Far away on the other side of the world there lived, long ago, a lion
and his younger brother, the wild cat, who were so fond of each other
that they shared the same hut. The lion was much the bigger and
stronger of the two—indeed, he was much bigger and stronger than any of
the beasts that dwelt in the forest; and, besides, he could jump father
and run faster than all the rest. If strength and swiftness could gain
him a dinner he was sure never to be without one, but when it came to
cunning, both the grizzly bear and the serpent could get the better of
him, and he was forced to call in the help of the wild cat.
Now the young wild cat had a lovely golden ball, so beautiful that you
could hardly look at it except through a piece of smoked glass, and he
kept it hidden in the thick fur muff that went round his neck. A very
large old animal, since dead, had given it to him when he was hardly
more than a baby, and had told him never to part with it, for as long
as he kept it no harm could ever come near him.
In general the wild cat did not need to use his ball, for the lion was
fond of hunting, and could kill all the food that they needed; but now
and then his life would have been in danger had it not been for the
golden ball.
One day the two brothers started to hunt at daybreak, but as the cat
could not run nearly as fast as the lion, he had quite a long start. At
least he THOUGHT it was a long one, but in a very few bounds and
springs the lion reached his side.
“There is a bear sitting on that tree,” he whispered softly. “He is
only waiting for us to pass, to drop down on my back.”
“Ah, you are so big that he does not see I am behind you,” answered the
wild cat. And, touching the ball, he just said: “Bear, die!” And the
bear tumbled dead out of the tree, and rolled over just in front of
them.
For some time they trotted on without any adventures, till just as they
were about to cross a strip of long grass on the edge of the forest,
the lion’s quick ears detected a faint rustling noise.
“That is a snake,” he cried, stopping short, for he was much more
afraid of snakes than of bears.
“Oh, it is all right,” answered the cat. “Snake, die!” And the snake
died, and the two brothers skinned it. They then folded the skin up
into a very small parcel, and the cat tucked it into his mane, for
snakes’ skins can do all sorts of wonderful things, if you are lucky
enough to have one of them.
All this time they had had no dinner, for the snake’s flesh was not
nice, and the lion did not like eating bear—perhaps because he never
felt sure that the bear was REALLY dead, and would not jump up alive
when his enemy went near him. Most people are afraid of SOME thing, and
bears and serpents were the only creatures that caused the lion’s heart
to tremble. So the two brothers set off again and soon reached the side
of a hill where some fine deer were grazing.
“Kill one of those deer for your own dinner,” said the boy-brother,
“but catch me another alive. I want him.”
The lion at once sprang towards them with a loud roar, but the deer
bounded away, and they were all three soon lost to sight. The cat
waited for a long while, but finding that the lion did not return, went
back to the house where they lived.
It was quite dark when the lion came home, where his brother was
sitting curled up in one corner.
“Did you catch the deer for me?” asked the boy-brother, springing up.
“Well, no,” replied the man-brother. “The fact is, that I did not get
up to them till we had run half way across the world and left the wind
far behind us. Think what a trouble it would have been to drag it here!
So—I just ate them both.”
The cat said nothing, but he did not feel that he loved his big
brother. He had thought a great deal about that deer, and had meant to
get on his back to ride him as a horse, and go to see all the wonderful
places the lion talked to him about when he was in a good temper. The
more he thought of it the more sulky he grew, and in the morning, when
the lion said that it was time for them to start to hunt, the cat told
him that he might kill the bear and snake by himself, as HE had a
headache, and would rather stay at home. The little fellow knew quite
well that the lion would not dare to go out without him and his ball
for fear of meeting a bear or a snake.
The quarrel went on, and for many days neither of the brothers spoke to
each other, and what made them still more cross was, that they could
get very little to eat, and we know that people are often cross when
they are hungry. At last it occurred to the lion that if he could only
steal the magic ball he could kill bears and snakes for himself, and
then the cat might be as sulky as he liked for anything that it would
matter. But how was the stealing to be done? The cat had the ball hung
round his neck day and night, and he was such a light sleeper that it
was useless to think of taking it while he slept. No! the only thing
was to get him to lend it of his own accord, and after some days the
lion (who was not at all clever) hit upon a plan that he thought would
do.
“Dear me, how dull it is here!” said the lion one afternoon, when the
rain was pouring down in such torrents that, however sharp your eyes or
your nose might be, you could not spy a single bird or beast among the
bushes. “Dear me, how dull, how dreadfully dull I am. Couldn’t we have
a game of catch with that golden ball of yours?”
“I don’t care about playing catch, it does not amuse me,” answered the
cat, who was as cross as ever; for no cat, even to this day, ever
forgets an injury done to him.
“Well, then, lend me the ball for a little, and I will play by myself,”
replied the lion, stretching out a paw as he spoke.
“You can’t play in the rain, and if you did, you would only lose it in
the bushes,” said the cat.
“Oh, no, I won’t; I will play in here. Don’t be so ill-natured.” And
with a very bad grace the cat untied the string and threw the golden
ball into the lion’s lap, and composed himself to sleep again.
For a long while the lion tossed it up and down gaily, feeling that,
however sound asleep the boy-brother might LOOK, he was sure to have
one eye open; but gradually he began to edge closer to the opening, and
at last gave such a toss that the ball went up high into the air, and
he could not see what became of it.
“Oh, how stupid of me!” he cried, as the cat sprang up angrily, “let us
go at once and search for it. It can’t really have fallen very far.”
But though they searched that day and the next, and the next after
that, they never found it, because it never came down.
After the loss of his ball the cat refused to live with the lion any
longer, but wandered away to the north, always hoping he might meet
with his ball again. But months passed, and years passed, and though he
travelled over hundreds of miles, he never saw any traces of it.
At length, when he was getting quite old, he came to a place unlike any
that he had ever seen before, where a big river rolled right to the
foot of some high mountains. The ground all about the river bank was
damp and marshy, and as no cat likes to wet its feet, this one climbed
a tree that rose high above the water, and thought sadly of his lost
ball, which would have helped him out of this horrible place. Suddenly
he saw a beautiful ball, for all the world like his own, dangling from
a branch of the tree he was on. He longed to get at it; but was the
branch strong enough to bear his weight? It was no use, after all he
had done, getting drowned in the water. However, it could do no harm,
if he was to go a little way; he could always manage to get back
somehow.
So he stretched himself at full length upon the branch, and wriggled
his body cautiously along. To his delight it seemed thick and stout.
Another movement, and, by stretching out his paw, he would be able to
draw the string towards him, when the branch gave a loud crack, and the
cat made haste to wriggle himself back the way he had come.
But when cats make up their minds to do anything they generally DO it;
and this cat began to look about to see if there was really no way of
getting at his ball. Yes! there was, and it was much surer than the
other, though rather more difficult. Above the bough where the ball was
hung was another bough much thicker, which he knew could not break with
his weight; and by holding on tight to this with all his four paws, he
could just manage to touch the ball with his tail. He would thus be
able to whisk the ball to and fro till, by-and-by, the string would
become quite loose, and it would fall to the ground. It might take some
time, but the lion’s little brother was patient, like most cats.
Well, it all happened just as the cat intended it should, and when the
ball dropped on the ground the cat ran down the tree like lightning,
and, picking it up, tucked it away in the snake’s skin round his neck.
Then he began jumping along the shore of the Big Water from one place
to another, trying to find a boat, or even a log of wood, that would
take him across. But there was nothing; only, on the other side, he saw
two girls cooking, and though he shouted to them at the top of his
voice, they were too far off to hear what he said. And, what was worse,
the ball suddenly fell out of its snake’s skin bag right into the
river.
Now, it is not at all an uncommon thing for balls to tumble into
rivers, but in that case they generally either fall to the bottom and
stay there, or else bob about on the top of the water close to where
they first touched it. But this ball, instead of doing either of these
things, went straight across to the other side, and there one of the
girls saw it when she stooped to dip some water into her pail.
“Oh! what a lovely ball!” cried she, and tried to catch it in her pail;
but the ball always kept bobbing just out of her reach.
“Come and help me!” she called to her sister, and after a long while
they had the ball safe inside the pail. They were delighted with their
new toy, and one or the other held it in her hand till bedtime came,
and then it was a long time before they could make up their minds where
it would be safest for the night. At last they locked it in a cupboard
in one corner of their room, and as there was no hole anywhere the ball
could not possibly get out. After that they went to sleep.
In the morning the first thing they both did was to run to the cupboard
and unlock it, but when the door opened they started back, for, instead
of the ball, there stood a handsome young man.
“Ladies,” he said, “how can I thank you for what you have done for me?
Long, long ago, I was enchanted by a wicked fairy, and condemned to
keep the shape of a ball till I should meet with two maidens, who would
take me to their own home. But where was I to meet them? For hundreds
of years I have lived in the depths of the forest, where nothing but
wild beasts ever came, and it was only when the lion threw me into the
sky that I was able to fall to earth near this river. Where there is a
river, sooner or later people will come; so, hanging myself on a tree,
I watched and waited. For a moment I lost heart when I fell once more
into the hands of my old master the wild cat, but my hopes rose again
as I saw he was making for the river bank opposite where you were
standing. That was my chance, and I took it. And now, ladies, I have
only to say that, if ever I can do anything to help you, go to the top
of that high mountain and knock three times at the iron door at the
north side, and I will come to you.”
So, with a low bow, he vanished from before them, leaving the maidens
weeping at having lost in one moment both the ball and the prince.
[Adapted from North American Indian Legends.]
Which was the Foolishest?
In a little village that stood on a wide plain, where you could see the
sun from the moment he rose to the moment he set, there lived two
couples side by side. The men, who worked under the same master, were
quite good friends, but the wives were always quarrelling, and the
subject they quarrelled most about was—which of the two had the
stupidest husband.
Unlike most women—who think that anything that belongs to them must be
better than what belongs to anyone else—each thought her husband the
more foolish of the two.
“You should just see what he does!” one said to her neighbour. “He puts
on the baby’s frock upside down, and, one day, I found him trying to
feed her with boiling soup, and her mouth was scalded for days after.
Then he picks up stones in the road and sows them instead of potatoes,
and one day he wanted to go into the garden from the top window,
because he declared it was a shorter way than through the door.”
“That is bad enough, of course,” answered the other; “but it is really
NOTHING to what I have to endure every day from MY husband. If, when I
am busy, I ask him to go and feed the poultry, he is certain to give
them some poisonous stuff instead of their proper food, and when I
visit the yard next I find them all dead. Once he even took my best
bonnet, when I had gone away to my sick mother, and when I came back I
found he had given it to the hen to lay her eggs in. And you know
yourself that, only last week, when I sent him to buy a cask of butter,
he returned driving a hundred and fifty ducks which someone had induced
him to take, and not one of them would lay.”
“Yes, I am afraid he IS trying,” replied the first; “but let us put
them to the proof, and see which of them is the most foolish.”
So, about the time that she expected her husband home from work, she
got out her spinning-wheel, and sat busily turning it, taking care not
even to look up from her work when the man came in. For some minutes he
stood with his mouth open watching her, and as she still remained
silent, he said at last:
“Have you gone mad, wife, that you sit spinning without anything on the
wheel?”
“YOU may think that there is nothing on it,” answered she, “but I can
assure you that there is a large skein of wool, so fine that nobody can
see it, which will be woven into a coat for you.”
“Dear me!” he replied, “what a clever wife I have got! If you had not
told me I should never have known that there was any wool on the wheel
at all. But now I really do seem to see something.”
The woman smiled and was silent, and after spinning busily for an hour
more, she got up from her stoop, and began to weave as fast as she
could. At last she got up, and said to her husband: “I am too tired to
finish it to-night, so I shall go to bed, and to-morrow I shall only
have the cutting and stitching to do.”
So the next morning she got up early, and after she had cleaned her
house, and fed her chickens, and put everything in its place again, she
bent over the kitchen table, and the sound of her big scissors might be
heard snip! snap! as far as the garden. Her husband could not see
anything to snip at; but then he was so stupid that was not surprising!
After the cutting came the sewing. The woman patted and pinned and
fixed and joined, and then, turning to the man, she said:
“Now it is ready for you to try on.” And she made him take off his
coat, and stand up in front of her, and once more she patted an pinned
and fixed and joined, and was very careful in smoothing out every
wrinkle.
“It does not feel very warm,” observed the man at last, when he had
borne all this patiently for a long time.
“That is because it is so fine,” answered she; “you do not want it to
be as thick as the rough clothes you wear every day.”
He DID, but was ashamed to say so, and only answered: “Well, I am sure
it must be beautiful since you say so, and I shall be smarter than
anyone in the whole village. ‘What a splendid coat!’ they will exclaim
when they see me. But it is not everybody who has a wife as clever as
mine.”
Meanwhile the other wife was not idle. As soon as her husband entered
she looked at him with such a look of terror that the poor man was
quite frightened.
“Why do you stare at me so? Is there anything the matter?” asked he.
“Oh! go to bed at once,” she cried; “you must be very ill indeed to
look like that!”
The man was rather surprised at first, as he felt particularly well
that evening; but the moment his wife spoke he became quite certain
that he had something dreadful the matter with him, and grew quite
pale.
“I dare say it would be the best place for me,” he answered, trembling;
and he suffered his wife to take him upstairs, and to help him off with
his clothes.
“If you sleep well during the might there MAY be a chance for you,”
said she, shaking her head, as she tucked him up warmly; “but if not—”
And of course the poor man never closed an eye till the sun rose.
“How do you feel this morning?” asked the woman, coming in on tip-toe
when her house-work was finished.
“Oh, bad; very bad indeed,” answered he; “I have not slept for a
moment. Can you think of nothing to make me better?”
“I will try everything that is possible,” said the wife, who did not in
the least wish her husband to die, but was determined to show that he
was more foolish that the other man. “I will get some dried herbs and
make you a drink, but I am very much afraid that it is too late. Why
did you not tell me before?”
“I thought perhaps the pain would go off in a day or two; and, besides,
I did not want to make you unhappy,” answered the man, who was by this
time quite sure he had been suffering tortures, and had borne them like
a hero. “Of course, if I had had any idea how ill I really was, I
should have spoken at once.”
“Well, well, I will see what can be done,” said the wife, “but talking
is not good for you. Lie still, and keep yourself warm.”
All that day the man lay in bed, and whenever his wife entered the room
and asked him, with a shake of the head, how he felt, he always replied
that he was getting worse. At last, in the evening, she burst into
tears, and when he inquired what was the matter, she sobbed out:
“Oh, my poor, poor husband, are you really dead? I must go to-morrow
and order your coffin.”
Now, when the man heard this, a cold shiver ran through his body, and
all at once he knew that he was as well as he had ever been in his
life.
“Oh, no, no!” he cried, “I feel quite recovered! Indeed, I think I
shall go out to work.”
“You will do no such thing,” replied his wife. “Just keep quite quiet,
for before the sun rises you will be a dead man.”
The man was very frightened at her words, and lay absolutely still
while the undertaker came and measured him for his coffin; and his wife
gave orders to the gravedigger about his grave. That evening the coffin
was sent home, and in the morning at nine o’clock the woman put him on
a long flannel garment, and called to the undertaker’s men to fasten
down the lid and carry him to the grave, where all their friends were
waiting them. Just as the body was being placed in the ground the other
woman’s husband came running up, dressed, as far as anyone could see,
in no clothes at all. Everybody burst into shouts of laughter at the
sight of him, and the men laid down the coffin and laughed too, till
their sides nearly split. The dead man was so astonished at this
behaviour, that he peeped out of a little window in the side of the
coffin, and cried out:
“I should laugh as loudly as any of you, if I were not a dead man.”
When they heard the voice coming from the coffin the other people
suddenly stopped laughing, and stood as if they had been turned into
stone. Then they rushed with one accord to the coffin, and lifted the
lid so that the man could step out amongst them.
“Were you really not dead after all?” asked they. “And if not, why did
you let yourself be buried?”
At this the wives both confessed that they had each wished to prove
that her husband was stupider than the other. But the villagers
declared that they could not decide which was the most foolish—the man
who allowed himself to be persuaded that he was wearing fine clothes
when he was dressed in nothing, or the man who let himself be buried
when he was alive and well.
So the women quarrelled just as much as they did before, and no one
ever knew whose husband was the most foolish.
[Adapted from the Neuislandische Volksmärchen.]