One cold winter's day a peasant set out on a journey which led him
through the depths of a forest into which he had not hitherto been. The
result was that he lost his way, and after wandering about for many
hours in the hope of finding it again, he found himself, just as dusk
was coming on, in a little clearing where he was overjoyed to see a
small house with a cheerful light in the window. "Here is a chance of
supper and a bed," thought the peasant, and he made haste to go up to
the cottage door.
Now this house in the clearing was not inhabited by men, but by some
strange forest folk who were called satyrs. If you want to know what
they were like, you must look at the pictures. Certainly the peasant
had never seen anything like them before, although he had often heard
of them, and when he nearly tumbled over the little satyr children
who were playing in the snow outside the house door, he was the most
surprised man in all those parts. It was too late to draw back however,
so he went boldly up to the door and gave a loud knock.
"Come in!" cried a gruff voice, and the peasant accordingly went in and
found himself facing the Father of all the Satyrs, who had a long beard
and a pair of horns jutting from his forehead. The poor fellow's knees
trembled underneath him for fright, especially when he saw all the
other satyrs, the mother and the uncles and the aunts, glowering at him.
"Please forgive me for my intrusion," said he, "but I have lost my way
in the woods, and I am half dead with hunger and cold. It would be an
act of great kindness if you would give me some food and allow me to
take shelter for the night." So saying, to give point to his remarks,
he set to work to blow upon his chilled fingers, which indeed were blue
with the cold.
"Why are you blowing your fingers?" asked the Father of all the Satyrs
curiously.
"Why, to warm them," answered the peasant, and he blew harder than
before.
"Well, sit down," said the Satyr. "As it happens we are just about to
have supper, and you are welcome to share it with us."
So the peasant sat down to supper, and all the Satyr family sat down
too, and watched him with big unblinking eyes, so that he felt very
uncomfortable. A big basin of soup was set before him, and finding it
very hot, he began to blow upon it.
At this all the Satyr family cried out in surprise, and the Father
Satyr said, "Why are you blowing your soup?"
"To cool it," answered the peasant. "It is too hot, and I am afraid it
may scald my mouth."
[Illustration: THE SATYRS' VILLAGE]
[Illustration: "THERE IS NO PLACE IN MY HOUSE FOR A MAN WHO CAN BLOW
HOT AND COLD"]
Another and a louder cry of surprise came from all the Satyrs, but the
Father cried out loudest of all, and seemed very indignant. "Come," he
said, advancing to the peasant and taking him by the collar. "Out you
go! There is no place in my house for a man who can blow hot and cold
with the same breath. That smells too much of sorcery or magic. Out you
go, I say, and practise your spells in the forest."
So the poor peasant had to go supperless and spend the night in the
woods, with no shelter but the trees, and the snow for coverlet.
And, if you wish to know when all this happened, all I can tell you is
that it was a very long time ago, in the days when fishes flew, and
cats had wings.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE TWO FRIENDS]