another rooster
There were once a Rooster and a Hen who were very good friends. They always went about together like brother and sister.
The Rooster was headstrong and thoughtless and often did foolish things. The little Hen was very sensible and always looked after the Rooster as well as she could.
Whenever he began doing something foolish, she always said:
"Oh, my dear, you mustn't do that!"
If the Rooster had always obeyed the little Hen he would be alive to this day. But, as I have told you, he was careless and headstrong and often he refused to take the little Hen's advice.
One day in the spring he ran into the garden and just gorged and gorged on green gooseberries.
"Oh, my dear!" the little Hen cried. "You mustn't eat green gooseberries! Don't you know they'll give you a pain in your stomach!"
But the Rooster wouldn't listen. He just kept on eating gooseberry after gooseberry until at last hegot a terrible pain in his stomach and then he had to stop.
"Little Hen," he cried, "help me! Oh, my stomach! Oh! Oh!"
He was so sick that the little Hen had to give him some hot peppermint and put a mustard plaster on his stomach.
After that shouldn't you suppose he would do what she told him? But he didn't. As soon as he was well he was just as careless and disobedient as before.
One day he went out to the meadow and he just ran and ran and ran until he got all overheated and perspired. Then he went down to the brook and began drinking cold water.
"Oh, my dear," the little Hen cried, "you mustn't drink cold water while you're overheated! Wait and cool off!"
But would the Rooster wait and cool off? No! He just drank that cold water and drank it until he could drink no more.
Then he got a chill and the poor little Hen had to drag him home and put him to bed and run for the Doctor.
The Doctor gave him bitter medicine and he didn'tget well for a long time. In fact it was winter before he got out of the house again.
Now shouldn't you suppose that after all this the Rooster would never again disobey the little Hen? If only he had he would be alive to this day. Listen, now, to what happened:
One morning when he got up, he saw that ice was beginning to form on the river.
"Goody! Goody!" he cried. "Now I can go sliding on the ice!"
"Oh, my dear," the little Hen said, "you mustn't go sliding on the ice yet! It's dangerous! Wait a few days until it's frozen harder and then go sliding."
But would the Rooster listen to the little Hen? No! He just insisted on running out that very moment and sliding on the thin ice.
And do you know what happened?
The ice broke and he fell in the river and, before the little Hen could get help, he was drowned!
And it was all his own fault, too, for the little Hen had begged him to wait until the ice was safer.
an ugly frog
There was once a young housewife named Lidushka. One day while she was washing clothes in the river a great frog, all bloated and ugly, swam up to her. Lidushka jumped back in fright. The frog spread itself out on the water, just where Lidushka had been rinsing her clothes, and sat there working its jaws as if it wanted to say something.
"Shoo!" Lidushka cried, but the frog stayed where it was and kept on working its jaws.
"You ugly old bloated thing! What do you want and why do you sit there gaping at me?"
Lidushka struck at the frog with a piece of linen to drive it off so that she could go on with her work. The frog dived, came up at another place, and at once swam back to Lidushka.
Lidushka tried again and again to drive it away. Each time she struck at it, the frog dived, came up at another place, and then swam back. At last Lidushka lost all patience.
"Go away, you old fat thing!" she screamed. "I have to finish my wash! Go away, I tell you, andwhen your babies come I'll be their godmother! Do you hear?"
As if it accepted this as a promise, the frog croaked: "All right! All right! All right!" and swam off.
Some time after this, when Lidushka was again doing her washing at the river, the same old frog appeared not looking now so fat and bloated.
"Come! Come, my dear!" it croaked. "You remember your promise! You said you'd be godmother to my babies. You must come with me now for we're having the christening today."
Lidushka, of course, had spoken jokingly, but even so a promise is a promise and must not be broken.
"But, you foolish frog," she said, "how can I be godmother to your babies? I can't go down in the water."
"Yes, you can!" the old frog croaked. "Come on! Come on! Come with me!"
It began swimming upstream and Lidushka followed, walking along the shore and feeling every moment more frightened.
The old frog swam on until it reached the mill-dam. Then it said to Lidushka:
"Now, my dear, don't be afraid! Don't be afraid! Just lift that stone in front of you. Under it you'llfind a flight of stairs that lead straight down to my house. I'll go on ahead. Do as I say and you can't miss the way."
The frog disappeared in the water and Lidushka lifted the stone. Sure enough there was a flight of stairs going down under the mill-dam. And what kind of stairs do you suppose they were? They were not made of wood or stone but of great solid blocks of water, laid one on another, transparent and clear as crystal.
Lidushka timidly went down one step, then another, and another, until halfway down she was met by the old frog who welcomed her with many noisy croaks.
"This way, dear godmother! This way! Don't be afraid! Don't be afraid!"
Lidushka picked up courage and took the remaining stairs more bravely. The frog then led her to its house which, like the stairs, was built of beautiful crystal water, sparkling and transparent.
Inside everything was in readiness for the christening. Lidushka at once took the baby frogs in her arms and held them during the ceremony.
After the christening came a mighty feast to which many frogs from near and far had been invited. The old frog presented them all to Lidushka and theymade much ado over her, hopping about her and croaking out noisy compliments.
Fish course after fish course was served—nothing but fish, prepared in every possible manner: boiled and broiled and fried and pickled. And there was every possible kind of fish: the finest carp and pike and mullet and trout and whiting and perch and many more of which Lidushka didn't even know the names.
When she had eaten all she could, Lidushka slipped away from the other guests and wandered off alone through the house.
She opened by chance a door that led into a sort of pantry. It was lined with long shelves and on the shelves were rows and rows of little earthenware pots all turned upside down. It seemed strange to Lidushka that they should all be upside down and she wondered why.
She lifted one pot up and under it she found a lovely white dove. The dove, happy at being released, shook out its plumage, spread its wings, and flew away.
Lidushka lifted a second pot and under it there was another lovely dove which at once spread its fluttering wings and flew off as happy as its fellow.
Lidushka lifted up a third pot and there was a third dove.
"There must be doves under all these pots!" she told herself. "What cruel creature has imprisoned them, I wonder? As the dear God has given man a soul to live forever, so He has given the birds wings to fly, and He never intended them to be imprisoned under dark pots. Wait, dear doves, and I'll set you all free!"
So Lidushka lifted pot after pot and from under every one of them an imprisoned dove escaped and flew joyously away.
Just as she had lifted the last pot, the old frog came hopping in to her in great excitement.
"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she croaked. "What have you done setting free all those souls! Quick and get you a lump of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread or my husband will catch you and take your soul! Here he comes now!"
Lidushka looked up through the crystal walls of the house but could see no one coming. Then in the distance she saw some beautiful bright red streamers floating towards her on the top of the water. They came nearer and nearer.
"Oh!" she thought to herself in sudden fright. "Those must be the red streamers of a nickerman!"
Instantly she remembered the stories her grandmotherused to tell her when she was a child, how the wicked nickerman lured people to their death with bright red streamers. Many an innocent maid, haying along the river, has seen the lovely streamers in the water and reached after them with her rake. That is what the nickerman wants her to do for then he can catch her and drag her down, down, down, under the water where he drowns her and takes her soul. The nickerman is so powerful that, if once he gets you, he can drown you in a teaspoon of water! But if you clutch in your hand a clod of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread, then he is powerless to harm you.
"Oh!" Lidushka cried. "Now I understand! Those white doves were the souls of poor innocents whom this wicked nickerman has drowned! God help me to escape him!"
"Hurry, my dear, hurry!" the old frog croaked. "Run up the crystal stairs and replace the stone!"
Lidushka flew up the stairs and as she reached the top she clutched a handful of dry earth. Then she replaced the stone and the water flowed over the stairs.
The nickerman spread out his red streamers close to the shore and tried to catch her, but she was not to be tempted.
"I know who you are!" she cried, holding tight herhandful of dry earth. "You'll never get my soul! And you'll never again imprison under your black pots all the poor innocent souls I liberated!"
Years afterwards when Lidushka had children of her own, she used to tell them this story and say to them:
"And now, my dears, you know why it is dangerous to reach out in the water for a red streamer or a pretty water lily. The wicked nickerman may be there just waiting to catch you."
a dragon
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who was called Batcha. During the summer he pastured his flocks high up on the mountain where he had a little hut and a sheepfold.
One day in autumn while he was lying on the ground, idly blowing his pipes, he chanced to look down the mountain slope. There he saw a most amazing sight. A great army of snakes, hundreds and hundreds in number, was slowly crawling to a rocky cliff not far from where he was lying.
When they reached the cliff, every serpent bit off a leaf from a plant that was growing there. They then touched the cliff with the leaves and the rock opened. One by one they crawled inside. When the last one had disappeared, the rock closed.
Batcha blinked his eyes in bewilderment.
"What can this mean?" he asked himself. "Where are they gone? I think I'll have to climb up there myself and see what that plant is. I wonder will the rock open for me?"
He whistled to Dunay, his dog, and left him incharge of the sheep. Then he made his way over to the cliff and examined the mysterious plant. It was something he had never seen before.
He picked a leaf and touched the cliff in the same place where the serpents had touched it. Instantly the rock opened.
Batcha stepped inside. He found himself in a huge cavern the walls of which glittered with gold and silver and precious stones. A golden table stood in the center and upon it a monster serpent, a very king of serpents, lay coiled up fast asleep. The other serpents, hundreds and hundreds of them, lay on the ground around the table. They also were fast asleep. As Batcha walked about, not one of them stirred.
Batcha sauntered here and there examining the walls and the golden table and the sleeping serpents. When he had seen everything he thought to himself:
"It's very strange and interesting and all that, but now it's time for me to get back to my sheep."
It's easy to say: "Now I'm going," but when Batcha tried to go he found he couldn't, for the rock had closed. So there he was locked in with the serpents.
He was a philosophical fellow and so, after puzzling a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and said:
"Well, if I can't get out I suppose I'll have to stay here for the night."
With that he drew his cape about him, lay down, and was soon fast asleep.
He was awakened by a rustling murmur. Thinking that he was in his own hut, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Then he saw the glittering walls of the cavern and remembered his adventure.
The old king serpent still lay on the golden table but no longer asleep. A movement like a slow wave was rippling his great coils. All the other serpents on the ground were facing the golden table and with darting tongues were hissing:
"Is it time? Is it time?"
The old king serpent slowly lifted his head and with a deep murmurous hiss said:
"Yes, it is time."
He stretched out his long body, slipped off the golden table, and glided away to the wall of the cavern. All the smaller serpents wriggled after him.
Batcha followed them, thinking to himself:
"I'll go out the way they go."
The old king serpent touched the wall with his tongue and the rock opened. Then he glided aside and the serpents crawled out, one by one. When thelast one was out, Batcha tried to follow, but the rock swung shut in his face, again locking him in.
The old king serpent hissed at him in a deep breathy voice:
"Hah, you miserable man creature, you can't get out! You're here and here you stay!"
"But I can't stay here," Batcha said. "What can I do in here? I can't sleep forever! You must let me out! I have sheep at pasture and a scolding wife at home in the valley. She'll have a thing or two to say if I'm late in getting back!"
Batcha pleaded and argued until at last the old serpent said:
"Very well, I'll let you out, but not until you have made me a triple oath that you won't tell any one how you came in."
Batcha agreed to this. Three times he swore a mighty oath not to tell any one how he had entered the cavern.
"I warn you," the old serpent said, as he opened the wall, "if you break this oath a terrible fate will overtake you!"
Without another word Batcha hurried through the opening.
Once outside he looked about him in surprise.Everything seemed changed. It was autumn when he had followed the serpents into the cavern. Now it was spring!
"What has happened?" he cried in fright. "Oh, what an unfortunate fellow I am! Have I slept through the winter? Where are my sheep? And my wife—what will she say?"
With trembling knees he made his way to his hut. His wife was busy inside. He could see her through the open door. He didn't know what to say to her at first, so he slipped into the sheepfold and hid himself while he tried to think out some likely story.
While he was crouching there, he saw a finely dressed gentleman come to the door of the hut and ask his wife where her husband was.
The woman burst into tears and explained to the stranger that one day in the previous autumn her husband had taken out his sheep as usual and had never come back.
"Dunay, the dog," she said, "drove home the sheep and from that day to this nothing has ever been heard of my poor husband. I suppose a wolf devoured him, or the witches caught him and tore him to pieces and scattered him over the mountain. And here I amleft, a poor forsaken widow! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!"
Her grief was so great that Batcha leaped out of the sheepfold to comfort her.
"There, there, dear wife, don't cry! Here I am, alive and well! No wolf ate me, no witches caught me. I've been asleep in the sheepfold—that's all. I must have slept all winter long!"
At sight and sound of her husband, the woman stopped crying. Her grief changed to surprise, then to fury.
"You wretch!" she cried. "You lazy, good-for-nothing loafer! A nice kind of shepherd you are to desert your sheep and yourself to idle away the winter sleeping like a serpent! That's a fine story, isn't it, and I suppose you think me fool enough to believe it! Oh, you—you sheep's tick, where have you been and what have you been doing?"
She flew at Batcha with both hands and there's no telling what she would have done to him if the stranger hadn't interfered.
"There, there," he said, "no use getting excited! Of course he hasn't been sleeping here in the sheepfold all winter. The question is, where has he been? Here is some money for you. Take it and go along hometo your cottage in the valley. Leave Batcha to me and I promise you I'll get the truth out of him."
The woman abused her husband some more and then, pocketing the money, went off.
As soon as she was gone, the stranger changed into a horrible looking creature with a third eye in the middle of his forehead.
"Good heavens!" Batcha gasped in fright. "He's the wizard of the mountain! Now what's going to happen to me!"
Batcha had often heard terrifying stories of the wizard, how he could himself take any form he wished and how he could turn a man into a ram.
"Aha!" the wizard laughed. "I see you know me! Now then, no more lies! Tell me: where have you been all winter long?"
At first Batcha remembered his triple oath to the old king serpent and he feared to break it. But when the wizard thundered out the same question a second time and a third time, and grew bigger and more horrible looking each time he spoke, Batcha forgot his oath and confessed everything.
"Now come with me," the wizard said. "Show me the cliff. Show me the magic plant."
What could Batcha do but obey? He led thewizard to the cliff and picked a leaf of the magic plant.
"Open the rock," the wizard commanded.
Batcha laid the leaf against the cliff and instantly the rock opened.
"Go inside!" the wizard ordered.
But Batcha's trembling legs refused to move.
The wizard took out a book and began mumbling an incantation. Suddenly the earth trembled, the sky thundered, and with a great hissing whistling sound a monster dragon flew out of the cavern. It was the old king serpent whose seven years were up and who was now become a flying dragon. From his huge mouth he breathed out fire and smoke. With his long tail he swished right and left among the forest trees and these snapped and broke like little twigs.
The wizard, still mumbling from his book, handed Batcha a bridle.
"Throw this around his neck!" he commanded.
Batcha took the bridle but was too terrified to act. The wizard spoke again and Batcha made one uncertain step in the dragon's direction. He lifted his arm to throw the bridle over the dragon's head, when the dragon suddenly turned on him, swooped under him, and before Batcha knew what was happening he found himself on the dragon's back and he felt himself being lifted up, up, up, above the tops of the forest trees, above the very mountains themselves.
On, on, they went, whizzing through the stars of heavenOn, on, they went, whizzing through the stars of heaven
For a moment the sky was so dark that only the fire, spurting from the dragon's eyes and mouth, lighted them on their way.
The dragon lashed this way and that in fury, he belched forth great floods of boiling water, he hissed, he roared, until Batcha, clinging to his back, was half dead with fright.
Then gradually his anger cooled. He ceased belching forth boiling water, he stopped breathing fire, his hisses grew less terrifying.
"Thank God!" Batcha gasped. "Perhaps now he'll sink to earth and let me go."
But the dragon was not yet finished with punishing Batcha for breaking his oath. He rose still higher until the mountains of the earth looked like tiny ant-hills, still up until even these had disappeared. On, on they went, whizzing through the stars of heaven.
At last the dragon stopped flying and hung motionless in the firmament. To Batcha this was even more terrifying than moving.
"What shall I do? What shall I do?" he wept in agony. "If I jump down to earth I'll kill myselfand I can't fly on up to heaven! Oh, dragon, have mercy on me! Fly back to earth and let me go and I swear before God that never again until death will I offend you!"
Batcha's pleading would have moved a stone to pity but the dragon, with an angry shake of his tail, only hardened his heart.
Suddenly Batcha heard the sweet voice of the skylark that was mounting to heaven.
"Skylark!" he called. "Dear skylark, bird that God loves, help me, for I am in great trouble! Fly up to heaven and tell God Almighty that Batcha, the shepherd, is hung in midair on a dragon's back. Tell Him that Batcha praises Him forever and begs Him to deliver him."
The skylark carried this message to heaven and God Almighty, pitying the poor shepherd, took some birch leaves and wrote on them in letters of gold. He put them in the skylark's bill and told the skylark to drop them on the dragon's head.
So the skylark returned from heaven and, hovering over Batcha, dropped the birch leaves on the dragon's head.
The dragon instantly sank to earth, so fast that Batcha lost consciousness.
When he came to himself he was sitting before his own hut. He looked about him. The dragon's cliff had disappeared. Otherwise everything was the same.
It was late afternoon and Dunay, the dog, was driving home the sheep. There was a woman coming up the mountain path.
Batcha heaved a great sigh.
"Thank God I'm back!" he said to himself. "How fine it is to hear Dunay's bark! And here comes my wife, God bless her! She'll scold me, I know, but even if she does, how glad I am to see her!"
a house
There was once a rich farmer who was as grasping and unscrupulous as he was rich. He was always driving a hard bargain and always getting the better of his poor neighbors. One of these neighbors was a humble shepherd who in return for service was to receive from the farmer a heifer. When the time of payment came the farmer refused to give the shepherd the heifer and the shepherd was forced to lay the matter before the burgomaster.
The burgomaster, who was a young man and as yet not very experienced, listened to both sides and when he had deliberated he said:
"Instead of deciding this case, I will put a riddle to you both and the man who makes the best answer shall have the heifer. Are you agreed?"
The farmer and the shepherd accepted this proposal and the burgomaster said:
"Well then, here is my riddle: What is the swiftest thing in the world? What is the sweetest thing? What is the richest? Think out your answers and bring them to me at this same hour tomorrow."
The farmer went home in a temper.
"What kind of a burgomaster is this young fellow!" he growled. "If he had let me keep the heifer I'd have sent him a bushel of pears. But now I'm in a fair way of losing the heifer for I can't think of any answer to his foolish riddle."
"What is the matter, husband?" his wife asked.
"It's that new burgomaster. The old one would have given me the heifer without any argument, but this young man thinks to decide the case by asking us riddles."
When he told his wife what the riddle was, she cheered him greatly by telling him that she knew the answers at once.
"Why, husband," said she, "our gray mare must be the swiftest thing in the world. You know yourself nothing ever passes us on the road. As for the sweetest, did you ever taste honey any sweeter than ours? And I'm sure there's nothing richer than our chest of golden ducats that we've been laying by these forty years."
The farmer was delighted.
"You're right, wife, you're right! That heifer remains ours!"
The shepherd when he got home was downcast andsad. He had a daughter, a clever girl named Manka, who met him at the door of his cottage and asked:
"What is it, father? What did the burgomaster say?"
The shepherd sighed.
"I'm afraid I've lost the heifer. The burgomaster set us a riddle and I know I shall never guess it."
"Perhaps I can help you," Manka said. "What is it?"
So the shepherd gave her the riddle and the next day as he was setting out for the burgomaster's, Manka told him what answers to make.
When he reached the burgomaster's house, the farmer was already there rubbing his hands and beaming with self-importance.
The burgomaster again propounded the riddle and then asked the farmer his answers.
The farmer cleared his throat and with a pompous air began:
"The swiftest thing in the world? Why, my dear sir, that's my gray mare, of course, for no other horse ever passes us on the road. The sweetest? Honey from my beehives, to be sure. The richest? What can be richer than my chest of golden ducats!"
And the farmer squared his shoulders and smiled triumphantly.
"H'm," said the young burgomaster, dryly. Then he asked:
"What answers does the shepherd make?"
The shepherd bowed politely and said:
"The swiftest thing in the world is thought for thought can run any distance in the twinkling of an eye. The sweetest thing of all is sleep for when a man is tired and sad what can be sweeter? The richest thing is the earth for out of the earth come all the riches of the world."
"Good!" the burgomaster cried. "Good! The heifer goes to the shepherd!"
Later the burgomaster said to the shepherd:
"Tell me, now, who gave you those answers? I'm sure they never came out of your own head."
At first the shepherd tried not to tell, but when the burgomaster pressed him he confessed that they came from his daughter, Manka. The burgomaster, who thought he would like to make another test of Manka's cleverness, sent for ten eggs. He gave them to the shepherd and said:
"Take these eggs to Manka and tell her to havethem hatched out by tomorrow and to bring me the chicks."
When the shepherd reached home and gave Manka the burgomaster's message, Manka laughed and said: "Take a handful of millet and go right back to the burgomaster. Say to him: 'My daughter sends you this millet. She says that if you plant it, grow it, and have it harvested by tomorrow, she'll bring you the ten chicks and you can feed them the ripe grain.'"
When the burgomaster heard this, he laughed heartily.
"That's a clever girl of yours," he told the shepherd. "If she's as comely as she is clever, I think I'd like to marry her. Tell her to come to see me, but she must come neither by day nor by night, neither riding nor walking, neither dressed nor undressed."
When Manka received this message she waited until the next dawn when night was gone and day not yet arrived. Then she wrapped herself in a fishnet and, throwing one leg over a goat's back and keeping one foot on the ground, she went to the burgomaster's house.
Now I ask you: did she go dressed? No, she wasn't dressed. A fishnet isn't clothing. Did she go undressed? Of course not, for wasn't she coveredwith a fishnet? Did she walk to the burgomaster's? No, she didn't walk for she went with one leg thrown over a goat. Then did she ride? Of course she didn't ride for wasn't she walking on one foot?
When she reached the burgomaster's house she called out:
"Here I am, Mr. Burgomaster, and I've come neither by day nor by night, neither riding nor walking, neither dressed nor undressed."
The young burgomaster was so delighted with Manka's cleverness and so pleased with her comely looks that he proposed to her at once and in a short time married her.
"But understand, my dear Manka," he said, "you are not to use that cleverness of yours at my expense. I won't have you interfering in any of my cases. In fact if ever you give advice to any one who comes to me for judgment, I'll turn you out of my house at once and send you home to your father."
All went well for a time. Manka busied herself in her house-keeping and was careful not to interfere in any of the burgomaster's cases.
Then one day two farmers came to the burgomaster to have a dispute settled. One of the farmers owned a mare which had foaled in the marketplace. Thecolt had run under the wagon of the other farmer and thereupon the owner of the wagon claimed the colt as his property.
The burgomaster, who was thinking of something else while the case was being presented, said carelessly:
"The man who found the colt under his wagon is, of course, the owner of the colt."
As the owner of the mare was leaving the burgomaster's house, he met Manka and stopped to tell her about the case. Manka was ashamed of her husband for making so foolish a decision and she said to the farmer:
"Come back this afternoon with a fishing net and stretch it across the dusty road. When the burgomaster sees you he will come out and ask you what you are doing. Say to him that you're catching fish. When he asks you how you can expect to catch fish in a dusty road, tell him it's just as easy for you to catch fish in a dusty road as it is for a wagon to foal. Then he'll see the injustice of his decision and have the colt returned to you. But remember one thing: you mustn't let him find out that it was I who told you to do this."
That afternoon when the burgomaster chanced to look out the window he saw a man stretching a fishnetacross the dusty road. He went out to him and asked:
"What are you doing?"
"Fishing."
"Fishing in a dusty road? Are you daft?"
"Well," the man said, "it's just as easy for me to catch fish in a dusty road as it is for a wagon to foal."
Then the burgomaster recognized the man as the owner of the mare and he had to confess that what he said was true.
"Of course the colt belongs to your mare and must be returned to you. But tell me," he said, "who put you up to this? You didn't think of it yourself."
The farmer tried not to tell but the burgomaster questioned him until he found out that Manka was at the bottom of it. This made him very angry. He went into the house and called his wife.
"Manka," he said, "do you forget what I told you would happen if you went interfering in any of my cases? Home you go this very day. I don't care to hear any excuses. The matter is settled. You may take with you the one thing you like best in my house for I won't have people saying that I treated you shabbily."
Manka made no outcry.
"Very well, my dear husband, I shall do as you say: I shall go home to my father's cottage and take with me the one thing I like best in your house. But don't make me go until after supper. We have been very happy together and I should like to eat one last meal with you. Let us have no more words but be kind to each other as we've always been and then part as friends."
The burgomaster agreed to this and Manka prepared a fine supper of all the dishes of which her husband was particularly fond. The burgomaster opened his choicest wine and pledged Manka's health. Then he set to, and the supper was so good that he ate and ate and ate. And the more he ate, the more he drank until at last he grew drowsy and fell sound asleep in his chair. Then without awakening him Manka had him carried out to the wagon that was waiting to take her home to her father.
The next morning when the burgomaster opened his eyes, he found himself lying in the shepherd's cottage.
"What does this mean?" he roared out.
"Nothing, dear husband, nothing!" Manka said. "You know you told me I might take with me the onething I liked best in your house, so of course I took you! That's all."
For a moment the burgomaster rubbed his eyes in amazement. Then he laughed loud and heartily to think how Manka had outwitted him.
"Manka," he said, "you're too clever for me. Come on, my dear, let's go home."
So they climbed back into the wagon and drove home.
The burgomaster never again scolded his wife but thereafter whenever a very difficult case came up he always said:
"I think we had better consult my wife. You know she's a very clever woman."
birds eating seeds
A long time ago when Lord Jesus and the blessed St. Peter walked about together on earth, it happened one evening that they stopped at a blacksmith's cottage and asked for a night's lodging.
"You are welcome," the blacksmith said. "I am a poor man but whatever I have I will gladly share with you."
He threw down his hammer and led his guests into the kitchen. There he entertained them with a good supper and after they had eaten he said to them:
"I see that you are tired from your day's journey. There is my bed. Lie down on it and sleep until morning."
"And where will you sleep?" St. Peter asked.
"I? Don't think of me," the blacksmith said. "I'll go out to the barn and sleep on the straw."
The next morning he gave his guests a fine breakfast, and then sent them on their way with good wishes for their journey.
As they were leaving, St. Peter plucked Lord Jesus by the sleeve and whispered:
"Master, aren't you going to reward this man? He is poor but yet has treated us most hospitably."
Lord Jesus answered Peter:
"The reward of this world is an empty reward. I was thinking to prepare him a place in heaven. However, I will grant him something now."
Then he turned to the blacksmith and said:
"Ask what you will. Make three wishes and they will be fulfilled."
The blacksmith was overjoyed. For his first wish he said:
"I should like to live for a hundred years and always be as strong and healthy as I am this moment."
Lord Jesus said:
"Very well, that will be granted you. What is your second wish?"
The blacksmith thought for a moment. Then he said:
"I wish that I may prosper in this world and always have as much as I need. May work in my shop always be as plentiful as it is today."
"This, too, will be granted you," Lord Jesus said. "Now for your third wish."
Our blacksmith thought and thought, unable at first to decide on a third wish. At last he said:
"Grant that whoever sits on the stool where you sat last night at supper may be unable to get up until I release him."
St. Peter laughed at this, but Lord Jesus nodded and said:
"This wish, too, will be fulfilled."
So they parted, Lord Jesus and blessed St. Peter going on their way, and the blacksmith returning home to his forge.
Things came to pass as Lord Jesus had promised they should. Work in plenty flowed into the blacksmith's shop. The years went by but they made no impression on the blacksmith. He was as young as ever and as vigorous. His friends grew old and one by one died. His children grew up, married, and had children of their own. These in turn grew up. The years brought youth and maturity and old age to them all. The blacksmith alone remained unchanged.
A hundred years is a long time but at last even it runs out.
One night as the blacksmith was putting away his tools, there came a knock at the door. The blacksmith stopped his singing to call out:
"Who's there?"
"It is I, Death," a voice answered. "Open the door, blacksmith. Your time has come."
The blacksmith threw open the door.
"Welcome," he said to the woman standing there. "I'll be ready in a moment when I put away my tools." He smiled a little to himself. "Won't you sit down on this stool, dear lady, and rest you for a moment? You must be weary going to and fro over the earth."
Death, suspecting nothing, seated herself on the stool.
The blacksmith burst into a loud laugh.
"Now I have you, my lady! Stay where you are until I release you!"
Death tried to stand up but could not. She squirmed this way and that. She rattled her hollow bones. She gnashed her teeth. But do what she would she could not arise from the stool.
Chuckling and singing, the blacksmith left her there and went about his business.
But soon he found that chaining up Death had unexpected results. To begin with, he wanted at once to celebrate his escape with a feast. He had a hog which had been fattening for some time. He would slaughter this hog and chop it up into fine spicy sausageswhich his neighbors and friends would help him eat. The hams he would hang in the chimney to smoke.
But when he tried to slaughter the animal, the blow of his axe had no effect. He struck the hog on the head and, to be sure, it rolled over on the ground. But when he stopped to cut the throat, the creature jumped up and with a grunt went scampering off. Before the blacksmith could recover from his surprise, the hog had disappeared.
Next he tried to kill a goose. He had a fat one which he had been stuffing for the village fair.
"Since those sausages have escaped me," he said. "I'll have to be satisfied with roast goose."
But when he tried to cut the goose's throat, the knife drew no blood. In his surprise he loosened his hold and the goose slipped from his hands and went cackling off after the hog.
"What's come over things today?" the blacksmith asked himself. "It seems I'm not to have sausage or roast goose. I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with a pair of pigeons."
He went out to the pigeon-house and caught two pigeons. He put them on the chopping-block and with one mighty blow of his ax cut off both their heads.
"There!" he cried in triumph. "I've got you!"
But even as he spoke the little severed heads returned to their bodies, the heads and bodies grew together as if nothing had happened, and cooing happily the two pigeons flew away.
Then at last the truth flashed upon the blacksmith's mind. So long as he kept Death fastened to that stool, nothing could die! Of course not! So no more spicy sausages, no more smoked hams, no more roast goose—not even a broiled pigeon! The prospect was not a pleasing one, for the blacksmith loved good things to eat. But what could he do? Release Death? Never that! He would be her first victim! Well then, if he could have no fresh meat, he would have to be content to live on peas and porridge and wheaten cakes.
This actually was what he had to do and what every one else had to do when their old provisions were exhausted.
Summer passed and winter followed. Then spring came bringing new and unforeseen miseries. With the first breath of warm weather all the pests and insects of the summer before revived, for not one of them had been killed by the winter cold. And the eggs they had laid all hatched out until the earth and the air and the water swarmed with living creatures. Birds and ratsand grasshoppers, insects and bugs and vermin of every kind, covered the fields and ate up every green thing. The meadows looked as if a fire had swept them clean. The orchards were stripped bare of every leaf and blossom.
Suchhordesof fish and frogs and water creatures filled the lakes and the rivers that the water was polluted and it was impossible for man to drink it.
Water and land alike were swarming with living creatures not one of which could be killed. Even the air was thick with clouds of mosquitoes and gnats and flies.
Men and women walked about looking like tormented ghosts. They had no desire to live on but they had to live on for they could not die.
The blacksmith came at last to a realization of all the misery which his foolish wish was bringing upon the world.
"I see now," he said, "that God Almighty did well when He sent Death to the world. She has her work to do and I am wrong to hold her prisoner."
So he released Death from the stool and made no outcry when she put her bony fingers to his throat.