Not many years ago there lived on a stony, barren New England farm a
man and his wife. They were sober, honest people, working hard from
early morning until dark to enable them to secure a scanty living from
their poor land.
Their house, a small, one-storied building, stood upon the side of a
steep hill, and the stones lay so thickly about it that scarce anything
green could grow from the ground. At the foot of the hill, a quarter of
a mile from the house by the winding path, was a small brook, and the
woman was obliged to go there for water and to carry it up the hill to
the house. This was a tedious task, and with the other hard work that
fell to her share had made her gaunt and bent and lean.
Yet she never complained, but meekly and faithfully performed her
duties, doing the housework, carrying the water and helping her husband
hoe the scanty crop that grew upon the best part of their land.
One day, as she walked down the path to the brook, her big shoes
scattering the pebbles right and left, she noticed a large beetle lying
upon its back and struggling hard with its little legs to turn over,
that its feet might again touch the ground. But this it could not
accomplish; so the woman, who had a kind heart, reached down and gently
turned the beetle with her finger. At once it scampered from the path
and she went on to the brook.
The next day, as she came for water, she was surprised to see the
beetle again lying upon its back and struggling helplessly to turn.
Once more the woman stopped and set him upon his feet; and then, as she
stooped over the tiny creature, she heard a small voice say:
“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much for saving me!”
Half frightened at hearing a beetle speak in her own language, the
woman started back and exclaimed:
“La sakes! Surely you can’t talk like humans!” Then, recovering from
her alarm, she again bent over the beetle, who answered her:
“Why shouldn’t I talk, if I have anything to say?
“’Cause you’re a bug,” replied the woman.
“That is true; and you saved my life—saved me from my enemies, the
sparrows. And this is the second time you have come to my assistance,
so I owe you a debt of gratitude. Bugs value their lives as much as
human beings, and I am a more important creature than you, in your
ignorance, may suppose. But, tell me, why do you come each day to the
brook?”
“For water,” she answered, staring stupidly down at the talking beetle.
“Isn’t it hard work?” the creature inquired.
“Yes; but there’s no water on the hill,” said she.
“Then dig a well and put a pump in it,” replied the beetle.
She shook her head.
“My man tried it once; but there was no water,” she said, sadly.
“Try it again,” commanded the beetle; “and in return for your kindness
to me I will make this promise: if you do not get water from the well
you will get that which is more precious to you. I must go now. Do not
forget. Dig a well.”
And then, without pausing to say good-by, it ran swiftly away and was
lost among the stones.
The woman returned to the house much perplexed by what the beetle had
said, and when her husband came in from his work she told him the whole
story.
The poor man thought deeply for a time, and then declared:
“Wife, there may be truth in what the bug told you. There must be magic
in the world yet, if a beetle can speak; and if there is such a thing
as magic we may get water from the well. The pump I bought to use in
the well which proved to be dry is now lying in the barn, and the only
expense in following the talking bug’s advice will be the labor of
digging the hole. Labor I am used to; so I will dig the well.”
Next day he set about it, and dug so far down in the ground that he
could hardly reach the top to climb out again; but not a drop of water
was found.
“Perhaps you did not dig deep enough,” his wife said, when he told her
of his failure.
So the following day he made a long ladder, which he put into the hole;
and then he dug, and dug, and dug, until the top of the ladder barely
reached the top of the hole. But still there was no water.
When the woman next went to the brook with her pail she saw the beetle
sitting upon a stone beside her path. So she stopped and said:
“My husband has dug the well; but there is no water.”
“Did he put the pump in the well?” asked the beetle.
“No,” she answered.
“Then do as I commanded; put in the pump, and if you do not get water I
promise you something still more precious.”
Saying which, the beetle swiftly slid from the stone and disappeared.
The woman went back to the house and told her husband what the bug had
said.
“Well,” replied the simple fellow, “there can be no harm in trying.”
So he got the pump from the barn and placed it in the well, and then he
took hold of the handle and began to pump, while his wife stood by to
watch what would happen.
No water came, but after a few moments a gold piece dropped from the
spout of the pump, and then another, and another, until several
handfuls of gold lay in a little heap upon the ground.
The man stopped pumping then and ran to help his wife gather the gold
pieces into her apron; but their hands trembled so greatly through
excitement and joy that they could scarcely pick up the sparkling
coins.
At last she gathered them close to her bosom and together they ran to
the house, where they emptied the precious gold upon the table and
counted the pieces.
All were stamped with the design of the United States mint and were
worth five dollars each. Some were worn and somewhat discolored from
use, while others seemed bright and new, as if they had not been much
handled. When the value of the pieces was added together they were
found to be worth three hundred dollars.
Suddenly the woman spoke.
“Husband, the beetle said truly when he declared we should get
something more precious than water from the well. But run at once and
take away the handle from the pump, lest anyone should pass this way
and discover our secret.”
So the man ran to the pump and removed the handle, which he carried to
the house and hid underneath the bed.
They hardly slept a wink that night, lying awake to think of their good
fortune and what they should do with their store of yellow gold. In all
their former lives they had never possessed more than a few dollars at
a time, and now the cracked teapot was nearly full of gold coins.
The following day was Sunday, and they arose early and ran to see if
their treasure was safe. There it lay, heaped snugly within the teapot,
and they were so willing to feast their eyes upon it that it was long
before the man could leave it to build the fire or the woman to cook
the breakfast.
While they ate their simple meal the woman said:
“We will go to church to-day and return thanks for the riches that have
come to us so suddenly. And I will give the pastor one of the gold
pieces.”
“It is well enough to go to church,” replied her husband, “and also to
return thanks. But in the night I decided how we will spend all our
money; so there will be none left for the pastor.”
“We can pump more,” said the woman.
“Perhaps; and perhaps not,” he answered, cautiously. “What we have we
can depend upon, but whether or not there be more in the well I cannot
say.”
“Then go and find out,” she returned, “for I am anxious to give
something to the pastor, who is a poor man and deserving.”
So the man got the pump handle from beneath the bed, and, going to the
pump, fitted it in place. Then he set a large wooden bucket under the
spout and began to pump. To their joy the gold pieces soon began
flowing into the pail, and, seeing it about to run over the brim, the
woman brought another pail. But now the stream suddenly stopped, and
the man said, cheerfully:
“That is enough for to-day, good wife! We have added greatly to our
treasure, and the parson shall have his gold piece. Indeed, I think I
shall also put a coin into the contribution box.”
Then, because the teapot would hold no more gold, the farmer emptied
the pail into the wood-box, covering the money with dried leaves and
twigs, that no one might suspect what lay underneath.
Afterward they dressed themselves in their best clothing and started
for the church, each taking a bright gold piece from the teapot as a
gift to the pastor.
Over the hill and down into the valley beyond they walked, feeling so
gay and light-hearted that they did not mind the distance at all. At
last they came to the little country church and entered just as the
services began.
Being proud of their wealth and of the gifts they had brought for the
pastor, they could scarcely wait for the moment when the deacon passed
the contribution box. But at last the time came, and the farmer held
his hand high over the box and dropped the gold piece so that all the
congregation could see what he had given. The woman did likewise,
feeling important and happy at being able to give the good parson so
much.
The parson, watching from the pulpit, saw the gold drop into the box,
and could hardly believe that his eyes did not deceive him. However,
when the box was laid upon his desk there were the two gold pieces, and
he was so surprised that he nearly forgot his sermon.
When the people were leaving the church at the close of the services
the good man stopped the farmer and his wife and asked:
“Where did you get so much gold?”
The woman gladly told him how she had rescued the beetle, and how, in
return, they had been rewarded with the wonderful pump. The pastor
listened to it all gravely, and when the story was finished he said:
“According to tradition strange things happened in this world ages ago,
and now I find that strange things may also happen to-day. For by your
tale you have found a beetle that can speak and also has power to
bestow upon you great wealth.” Then he looked carefully at the gold
pieces and continued: “Either this money is fairy gold or it is genuine
metal, stamped at the mint of the United States government. If it is
fairy gold it will disappear within 24 hours, and will therefore do no
one any good. If it is real money, then your beetle must have robbed
some one of the gold and placed it in your well. For all money belongs
to some one, and if you have not earned it honestly, but have come by
it in the mysterious way you mention, it was surely taken from the
persons who owned it, without their consent. Where else could real
money come from?”
The farmer and his wife were confused by this statement and looked
guiltily at each other, for they were honest people and wished to wrong
no one.
“Then you think the beetle stole the money?” asked the woman.
“By his magic powers he probably took it from its rightful owners. Even
bugs which can speak have no consciences and cannot tell the difference
between right and wrong. With a desire to reward you for your kindness
the beetle took from its lawful possessors the money you pumped from
the well.”
“Perhaps it really is fairy gold,” suggested the man. “If so, we must
go to the town and spend the money before it disappears.”
“That would be wrong,” answered the pastor; “for then the merchants
would have neither money nor goods. To give them fairy gold would be to
rob them.”
“What, then, shall we do?” asked the poor woman, wringing her hands
with grief and disappointment.
“Go home and wait until to-morrow. If the gold is then in your
possession it is real money and not fairy gold. But if it is real money
you must try to restore it to its rightful owners. Take, also, these
pieces which you have given me, for I cannot accept gold that is not
honestly come by.”
Sadly the poor people returned to their home, being greatly disturbed
by what they had heard. Another sleepless night was passed, and on
Monday morning they arose at daylight and ran to see if the gold was
still visible.
“It is real money, after all!” cried the man; “for not a single piece
has disappeared.”
When the woman went to the brook that day she looked for the beetle,
and, sure enough, there he sat upon the flat stone.
“Are you happy now?” asked the beetle, as the woman paused before him.
“We are very unhappy,” she answered; “for, although you have given us
much gold, our good parson says it surely belongs to some one else, and
was stolen by you to reward us.”
“Your parson may be a good man,” returned the beetle, with some
indignation, “but he certainly is not overwise. Nevertheless, if you do
not want the gold I can take it from you as easily as I gave it.”
“But we do want it!” cried the woman, fearfully. “That is,” she added,
“if it is honestly come by.”
“It is not stolen,” replied the beetle, sulkily, “and now belongs to no
one but yourselves. When you saved my life I thought how I might reward
you; and, knowing you to be poor, I decided gold would make you happier
than anything else.
“You must know,” he continued, “that although I appear so small and
insignificant, I am really king of all the insects, and my people obey
my slightest wish. Living, as they do, close to the ground, the insects
often come across gold and other pieces of money which have been lost
by men and have fallen into cracks or crevasses or become covered with
earth or hidden by grass or weeds. Whenever my people find money in
this way they report the fact to me; but I have always let it lie,
because it could be of no possible use to an insect.
“However, when I decided to give you gold I knew just where to obtain
it without robbing any of your fellow creatures. Thousands of insects
were at once sent by me in every direction to bring the pieces of lost
gold to this hill. It cost my people several days of hard labor, as you
may suppose; but by the time your husband had finished the well the
gold began to arrive from all parts of the country, and during the
night my subjects dumped it all into the well. So you may use it with a
clear conscience, knowing that you wrong no one.”
This explanation delighted the woman, and when she returned to the
house and reported to her husband what the beetle had said he also was
overjoyed.
So they at once took a number of the gold pieces and went to the town
to purchase provisions and clothing and many things of which they had
long stood in need; but so proud were they of their newly acquired
wealth that they took no pains to conceal it. They wanted everyone to
know they had money, and so it was no wonder that when some of the
wicked men in the village saw the gold they longed to possess it
themselves.
“If they spend this money so freely,” whispered one to another, “there
must be a great store of gold at their home.”
“That is true,” was the answer. “Let us hasten there before they return
and ransack the house.”
So they left the village and hurried away to the farm on the hill,
where they broke down the door and turned everything topsy turvy until
they had discovered the gold in the wood-box and the teapot. It did not
take them long to make this into bundles, which they slung upon their
backs and carried off, and it was probably because they were in a great
hurry that they did not stop to put the house in order again.
Presently the good woman and her husband came up the hill from the
village with their arms full of bundles and followed by a crowd of
small boys who had been hired to help carry the purchases. Then
followed others, youngsters and country louts, attracted by the wealth
and prodigality of the pair, who, from simple curiosity, trailed along
behind like the tail of a comet and helped swell the concourse into a
triumphal procession. Last of all came Guggins, the shopkeeper,
carrying with much tenderness a new silk dress which was to be paid for
when they reached the house, all the money they had taken to the
village having been lavishly expended.
The farmer, who had formerly been a modest man, was now so swelled with
pride that he tipped the rim of his hat over his left ear and smoked a
big cigar that was fast making him ill. His wife strutted along beside
him like a peacock, enjoying to the full the homage and respect her
wealth had won from those who formerly deigned not to notice her, and
glancing from time to time at the admiring procession in the rear.
But, alas for their new-born pride! when they reached the farmhouse
they found the door broken in, the furniture strewn in all directions
and their treasure stolen to the very last gold piece.
The crowd grinned and made slighting remarks of a personal nature, and
Guggins, the shopkeeper, demanded in a loud voice the money for the
silk dress he had brought.
Then the woman whispered to her husband to run and pump some more gold
while she kept the crowd quiet, and he obeyed quickly. But after a few
moments he returned with a white face to tell her the pump was dry, and
not a gold piece could now be coaxed from the spout.
The procession marched back to the village laughing and jeering at the
farmer and his wife, who had pretended to be so rich; and some of the
boys were naughty enough to throw stones at the house from the top of
the hill. Mr. Guggins carried away his dress after severely scolding
the woman for deceiving him, and when the couple at last found
themselves alone their pride had turned to humiliation and their joy to
bitter grief.
Just before sundown the woman dried her eyes and, having resumed her
ordinary attire, went to the brook for water. When she came to the flat
stone she saw the King Beetle sitting upon it.
“The well is dry!” she cried out, angrily.
“Yes,” answered the beetle, calmly, “you have pumped from it all the
gold my people could find.”
“But we are now ruined,” said the woman, sitting down in the path
beginning to weep; “for robbers have stolen from us every penny we
possessed.”
“I’m sorry,” returned the beetle; “but it is your own fault. Had you
not made so great a show of your wealth no one would have suspected you
possessed a treasure, or thought to rob you. As it is, you have merely
lost the gold which others have lost before you. It will probably be
lost many times more before the world comes to an end.”
“But what are we to do now?” she asked.
“What did you do before I gave you the money?”
“We worked from morning ’til night,” said she.
“Then work still remains for you,” remarked the beetle, composedly; “no
one will ever try to rob you of that, you may be sure!” And he slid
from the stone and disappeared for the last time.
This story should teach us to accept good fortune with humble hearts
and to use it with moderation. For, had the farmer and his wife
resisted the temptation to display their wealth ostentatiously, they
might have retained it to this very day.