There was a rich man who lived on a hill, and a poor man who lived down
in the valley, and they were brothers, the one was older and the other
younger. The one lived in a grand house and the other in a little,
rickety, tumble-down hut, and the one was covetous and greedy and the
other was kind and merciful. All the same, it was a merry life that the
poor brother led of it, for each morning when he took a drink he said,
“Thank Heaven for clear water;” and when the day was bright he said,
“Thank Heaven for the warm sun that shines on us all;” and when it was
wet it was, “Thank Heaven for the gentle rain that makes the green grass
grow.”
One day the poor brother was riding in the forest, and there he met the
rich brother, and they jogged along the way together. The one rode upon
a poor, old, spavined, white horse, and the other rode upon a fine,
prancing steed.
By and by they met an old woman, and it was all that she could do to
hobble along the way she was going.
“Dear, good, kind gentlemen,” said she, “do help a poor old body with a
penny or two, for it is nothing I have in the world, and life sits heavy
on old shoulders.”
The rich brother was for passing along as though he heard never a word
of what she said, but the poor brother had a soft heart, and reined in
his horse.
“It is only three farthings that I have in the world,” said he; “but
such as they are you are welcome to them,” and he emptied his purse into
her hand.
“You shall not have the worst of the bargain,” said the old woman; “here
is something that is worth the having,” and she gave him a little black
stone about as big as a bean. Then off she went with what he had given
her.
“See, now,” said the rich brother, “that is why you are so poor as
hardly to be able to make both ends meet in the world.”
“That may be so, or may not be so,” said the poor brother; “all the
same, mercy is better than greed.”
How the elder did laugh at this, to be sure! “Why, look,” says he, “here
I am riding upon a grand horse with my pockets full of gold and silver
money, and there you are astride of a beast that can hardly hobble along
the road, and with never a copper bit in your pocket to jingle against
another.”
Yes; that was all true enough; nevertheless, the younger brother stuck
to it that mercy was better than greed, until, at last, the other flew
into a mighty huff.
“Very well,” says he, “I will wager my horse against yours that I am
right, and we will leave it to the first body we meet to settle the
point.”
Well, that suited the poor brother, and he was agreed to do as the other
said.
So by and by they met a grand lord riding along the road with six
servants behind him; and would he tell whether mercy or greed were the
best for a body in this world?
The rich lord laughed and laughed. “Why,” said he, “greed is the best,
for if it were otherwise, and I had only what belonged to me, I should
never be jogging along through the world with six servants behind me.”
So off he rode, and the poor brother had to give up his horse to the
other, who had no more use for it than I have for five more fingers.
“All the same,” says the poor brother, “mercy is better than greed.”
Goodness! what a rage the rich brother fell into, to be sure! “There is
no teaching a simpleton,” said he; “nevertheless, I will wager all the
money in my purse against your left eye that greed is better than mercy,
and we will leave it to the next body we meet, since you are not content
with the other.”
[Illustration: Having been thrice adjudged in the wrong, the poor man is
left by the rich man blind upon the highway.]
That suited the younger brother well enough, and on they jogged until
they met a rich merchant driving a donkey loaded with things to sell.
And would he judge between them whether mercy or greed were the best for
a body?
“Poof!” says the merchant, “what a question to ask! All the world knows
that greed is the best. If it were not for taking the cool end of the
bargain myself, and leaving the hot end for my neighbor to hold, it is
little or nothing that I should have in the world to call my own.” And
off he went whither he was going.
“There,” says the rich brother, “now perhaps you will be satisfied;” and
he put out the poor man’s left eye.
But no, the other still held that mercy was better than greed; and so
they made another wager of all the rich man had in the world against the
poor man’s right eye.
This time it was a poor ploughman whom they met, and would he tell
whether mercy or greed were the best?
“Prut!” said he, “any simpleton can tell that greed is the best, for all
the world rides on the poor man’s shoulders, and he is able to bear the
burden the least of all.”
Then the rich man put out the poor man’s right eye; “for,” says he, “a
body deserves to be blind who cannot see the truth when it is as plain
as a pikestaff.”
But still the poor man stuck to it that mercy was the best. So the rich
man rode away and left him in his blindness.
As all was darkness to his eyes, he sat down beside the road at the
first place he could find, and that was underneath the gallows where
three wicked robbers had been hung. While he sat there two ravens came
flying, and lit on the gallows above him. They began talking to one
another, and the younger brother heard what they said, for he could
understand the speech of the birds of the air and of the beasts of the
field, just as little children can, because he was innocent.
And the first raven said to the second raven, “Yonder, below, sits a
fellow in blindness, because he held that mercy was better than greed.”
And the second raven said to the first, “Yes, that is so, but he might
have his sight again if he only knew enough to spread his handkerchief
upon the grass, and bathe his eyes in the dew which falls upon it from
the gallows above.”
And the first raven said to the second, “That is as true as that one and
one make two; but there is more to tell yet, for in his pocket he
carries a little black stone with which he may open every door that he
touches. Back of the oak-tree yonder is a little door; if he would but
enter thereat he would find something below well worth the having.”
[Illustration: The poor man touches the door with y^e stone.]
That was what the two ravens said, and then they flapped their wings and
flew away.
As for the younger brother, you can guess how his heart danced at what
he heard. He spread his handkerchief on the grass, and by and by, when
night came, the dew fell upon it until it was as wet as clothes on the
line. He wiped his eyes with it, and when the dew touched the lids they
were cured, and he could see as well and better than ever.
By and by the day broke, and he lost no time in finding the door back of
the oak-tree. He touched the lock with the little black stone, and the
door opened as smoothly as though the hinges were greased. There he
found a flight of steps that led down into a pit as dark as a beer
vault. Down the steps he went, and on and on until, at last, he came to
a great room, the like of which his eyes had never seen before. In the
centre of the room was a statue as black as ink; in one hand it held a
crystal globe which shone with a clear white light, so that it dazzled
one’s eyes to look upon it; in the other hand it held a great diamond as
big as a hen’s egg. Upon the breast of the statue were written these
words in letters of gold:
“WHAT THOU DESERVEST
THAT THOU SHALT HAVE.”
On three sides of the room sat three statues, and at the feet of each
statue stood a heavy chest:
The first statue was of gold, and over its head were written these
words:
“WHO CHOOSES HERE TAKES THE BEST THAT THE EARTH HAS TO GIVE.”
The second statue was of silver, and over its head was written these
words:
“WHO CHOOSES HERE TAKES WHAT THE RICH MAN LOVES.”
The third statue was of dull lead, and over its head was written:
“WHO CHOOSES HERE TAKES WHAT HE SHOULD HAVE.”
The man touched the chest at the feet of the golden statue with the
little black stone. And—click! clack!—up flew the lid, and the chest was
full of all kinds of precious stones.
“Pugh!” says the younger brother; “and if this is the best that the
world has to give, it is poor enough.” And he shut down the lid again.
He touched the chest at the feet of the silver statue with his little
black stone, and it was full of gold and silver money.
“Pish!” says he; “and if this is what the rich man loves, why, so do not
I.” And he shut down the lid again.
Last of all he touched the chest at the feet of the leaden statue.
[Illustration: The poor man finds that which is the best. ¶]
In it was a book, and the letters on it said that whoever read within
would know all that was worth the knowing. Beside the book was a pair of
spectacles, and whoever set them astride of his nose might see the truth
without having to rub the glasses with his pocket-handkerchief. But the
best of all in the chest was an apple, and whoever ate of it would be
cured of sorrow and sickness.
“Hi!” said the younger brother, “but these are worth the having, for
sure and certain.” And he put the spectacles upon his nose and the apple
and the book in his pocket. Then off he went, and the spectacles showed
him the way, although it was as crooked as sin and as black as night.
So by and by he came out into the blessed sunlight again, and at the
same place where he had gone in.
Off he went to his own home as fast as his legs could carry him, and you
can guess how the rich brother stared when he saw the poor brother back
in that town again, with his eyesight as good as ever.
As for the poor brother, he just turned his hand to being a doctor; and
there has never been one like him since that day, for not only could he
cure all sickness with his apple, but he could cure all sorrow as well.
Money and fame poured in on him; and whenever trouble lit on his
shoulders he just put on his spectacles and looked into the business,
and then opened the book of wisdom and found how to cure it. So his life
was as happy as the day was long; and a body can ask for no more than
that in this world here below.
One day the rich brother came and knocked at the other’s door. “Well,
brother,” says he, “I am glad to see you getting along so well in the
world. Let us let bygones be bygones and live together as we should, for
I am sorry for what I did to you.”
Well, that suited the younger brother well enough; he bore no malice
against the other, for all that had been done had turned out for the
best. All the same, he was more sure than ever now that mercy was better
than greed.
The elder brother twisted up his face at this, as though the words were
sour; all the same, he did not argue the question, for what he had come
for was to find why the world had grown so easy with the other all of a
sudden. So in he came, and they lit their pipes and sat down by the
stove together.
He was a keen blade, was the elder brother, and it was not long before
he had screwed the whole story out of the other.
[Illustration: The rich man findeth that which he deserveth.]
“Dear, dear, dear!” said he, “I only wish I could find a black pebble
like that one of yours.”
“It would do you no good if you had it,” said the younger brother, “for
I have brought away all that is worth the having. All the same, if you
want my black pebble now you are welcome to it.”
Did the elder brother want it! Why, of course he wanted it, and he could
not find words enough to thank the younger.
Off he went, hot-foot, to find the door back of the oak-tree; “For,”
said he to himself, “I will bring something back better worth the having
than a musty book, an old pair of spectacles, and a red apple.”
He touched the door with the black stone, and it opened for him just as
it had for the younger brother.
Down the steps he went, and on and on and on, until by and by he came to
the room where the statues were. There was the black statue holding out
the crystal ball and the diamond as big as a hen’s egg, and there sat
the golden statue and the silver statue and the leaden statue, just as
they had sat when the younger brother had been there, only there was
nothing in the chest at the feet of the leaden statue.
The rich brother touched the lock of the chest in front of the silver
statue. Up flew the lid, and there lay all the gold and silver money.
“Yes,” says he, “that is what the rich man loves, sure enough.
Nevertheless, there may be something else that is better worth the
having.” So he let the money lay where it was.
He touched the chest in front of the golden statue. Up flew the lid, and
he had to blink and wink his eyes because the precious stones dazzled
them so.
“Yes,” says he, “this is the best the world has to give, and there is no
gainsaying that; all the same, there may be something better worth the
having than these.”
So he looked all about the room, until he saw the golden letters on the
breast of the black statue that stood in the middle. First he read the
words:
“WHAT THOU DESERVEST
THAT THOU SHALT HAVE.”
And then he saw the great diamond that the statue held in its left hand.
“Why,” said he, “it is as plain as daylight that I deserve this precious
stone, for not being so simple as my brother, and taking what I could
find without looking for anything better.”
So up he stepped and took the diamond out of the statue’s hand.
Crash!—and all was darkness, darker than the darkest midnight; for, as
quick as a wink, the black statue let the crystal globe of light fall
from its right hand upon the stone floor, where it broke into ten
thousand pieces.
And now the rich brother might wander up and wander down, but wander as
he chose he could never find his way out of that place again, for the
darkness shut him in like a blanket.
So, after all, mercy and temperance were better in the long run than
greed and covetousness, in spite of what the great lord and the rich
merchant and the poor ploughman had said.
Maybe I have got this story twisted awry in the telling; all the same,
Tommy Pfouce says that it is a true-enough story, if you put on your
spectacles and look at it from the right side.
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