Part 4

“This is very strange,” said the Fox to himself, “but if I am tired, I know the Crab must be a great deal more so.” He started off again, and ran until he was almost out of breath. Feeling sure that the Crab was now far behind, he lay down on the ground, panting.

If he had been surprised to hear the Crab’s voice when he stopped before, how much more so was he now, when the Crab said: “Ha, ha! Mr. Braggart, you seem to be winded. Come, let us go on with the race.” He got upon his feet, and the Crab, who had released his grip from the Fox’s tail, crawled up in front of him, looking just as fresh as when they began the race.

The Fox looked at him, and then, without a word, slunk away, his head bowed in shame.

INGRATITUDE

Once upon a time a certain king had as his Chief Counsellor a man who was proud and oppressive to those under him.

Not far from the royal palace, in which this man dwelt, was a forest well stocked with game. By his order various pits were dug there, and covered with leaves, for the purpose of catching wild beasts.

One day, while riding in the forest, he was so overcome by the thought of his own greatness, that he exclaimed aloud: “There is no man in all this empire more powerful than I am.”

Scarcely had the braggart spoken than he fell into one of the pitfalls that he had ordered to be made and he immediately disappeared from view.

When his eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the hole, he was horrified to find that he had as fellow prisoners a lion, a monkey, and a serpent. He was stricken with terror, and cried out at the top of his voice.

Not far from the pit was lying asleep a poor man called Guido, who had come with his ass to the forest to gather firewood, by the sale of which he made a poor living. The noise made by the great man awakened him, and he hastened to give what aid he could to whoever might be in trouble.

The cries guided him to the mouth of the pit and there he was promised a great sum of money by the Prime Minister if he would rescue him from his perilous position.

Guido told him that his living depended upon the collecting of faggots, and if he neglected this for a single day, he would be thrown into great difficulties. The captive again promised him a large reward, so Guido went back to the city, and returned with a long cord, which he let down into the pit, telling the great man to bind it around his waist, and he would then pull him out.

But before he could do this, the lion leaped forward, and seizing upon the cord, was drawn up in his stead, and showing signs of the greatest pleasure, ran off into the wood.

Guido again let down the rope, and this time the monkey, who had noted the lion’s success, jumped over the man’s head and, shaking the cord, was in like manner set at liberty, and hastened to his own haunts.

A third time Guido lowered the rope, and this time the serpent, twining around it, was drawn up, and showing signs of gratitude to the peasant, escaped.

“Oh, my good friend,” exclaimed the Counsellor, “the beasts are gone, now draw me up quickly, I beseech you.” This Guido did, and afterwards succeeded in pulling up his horse, which had fallen into the pit with him. Then without another word, the man who had been saved mounted his horse, and rode back to the palace.

When Guido returned to his home his wife saw that he had come without wood, and inquired the cause. He told her all that had happened, and the great reward he was to receive, and then his wife’s countenance brightened.

Early the next morning Guido went to the palace, but to his surprise the Prime Minister not only denied all knowledge of him, but had him beaten for his presumption, and this so severely that the porter who carried out his orders left him half dead.

As soon as Guido’s wife heard of this she saddled their ass, and going to the palace, carefully placed her husband upon its back, and took him home, where he lay sick for a long time. This illness took all of their savings, but as soon as he was able he returned to his usual occupation in the forest.

One day, while thus employed, he saw afar off ten asses laden with packs, and a lion following close on them. They were coming towards him, and when close enough Guido noticed that the beast was the same which he had freed from the pit.

The lion signified with his foot that Guido should take the loaded asses, and go home. This he did, and the lion followed. Having reached his own door, the noble beast fawned upon him, and wagging his tail as if in triumph, ran back into the woods.

Guido was very honest, and even though he was poor he made no attempt to open the packages until he had caused notice to be given throughout the city that if any asses had been lost, the owners should come to him.

He waited for some time, but as no one came to demand them be undid the packs, and to his great joy found them to be full of money.

The next time Guido went to the forest he forgot to take the axe with which to chop the wood, but there appeared before him the monkey he had liberated, and the grateful animal, with his teeth and nails, cut the wood for him.

The following day he went to collect firewood as usual, and as the head of his axe had become loose, he sat down to tighten it. While thus engaged he saw the serpent, whose escape he had aided, gliding towards him, carrying in its mouth a stone of three colors, white, black, and red. It opened its mouth, dropped the stone into Guido’s lap, and departed.

Guido took the stone to a well-known dealer in jewels, who at once offered him a considerable sum of money for it, but this he refused. He kept the stone and through its magic qualities gained wealth and military command.

In time the fame of this wonderful stone reached the Emperor, who desired to see it. Guido accordingly took it to the palace, and his Majesty was so struck by its beauty that he wished to purchase it.

Guido had no desire to part with the stone, and the Emperor, noticing his unwillingness to sell it, threatened him with banishment from the kingdom if he refused.

Then Guido said: “My lord, I will sell the stone; but let me say one thing—if the price be not given, it shall be returned to me.” He then named a price so high that he hoped the Emperor would not give it. But the ruler was determined to have it at any cost, and so the stone changed hands.

Full of admiration, the Emperor exclaimed: “Tell me where you procured this beautiful stone.”

Then Guido narrated from the beginning the Prime Minister’s accident and later ingratitude. He told how severely he had been injured by his order, and the benefits he had received from the lion, the monkey, and the serpent.

The Emperor was greatly touched by the story, and sending for his Chief Counsellor, asked him if what Guido said was true.

The Prime Minister was unable to reply, and the Emperor said: “You wretched monster of ingratitude! Guido saved you from great danger, and in return you nearly destroyed him. Even the beasts of the forest rendered him good for the help he gave them, but you returned only evil for good. For this I will strip you of all your wealth and dignities, and bestow them upon your benefactor, and you shall be cast into prison.”

The Prime Minister was so hated by the people for his cruelty and oppression that there was general rejoicing in the land at this judgment of the Emperor.

* * * * *

This story was used by King Richard the Lion Hearted of England in reproving such nobles and princes as refused to engage in the Crusades, thus showing their ingratitude to God.

THE PAPER BAG

There were once two brothers, the elder of whom, named Musai, was honest and kind, but poor. He was just the opposite of his younger brother, called Chô, who was cruel, stingy, dishonest and rich.

Musai was in need of seed-rice and silkworms’ eggs. The past season had been an unfortunate one for him, and it was necessary for him to have these. Knowing that his brother had an abundance of good rice-seed and splendid eggs, he begged him to lend him some.

Now, Chô hated to lend anyone anything, but he didn’t see how he could very well refuse his brother’s request, so he picked out some musty rice-seed and dead eggs, and gave them to him, feeling sure that they were worthless.

Musai thanked him for his kindness, and took them home. He put plenty of mulberry leaves with the eggs, so that the silkworms should have plenty of food when they should arrive. And strange to say the worms came, and throve splendidly, much to Chô’s disappointment, because he was too mean to wish good-fortune to visit anyone but himself.

He took it as a personal insult that the dead eggs he had let his brother have should hatch so well, so one day, when Musai was out, he went to his home, and cut every silkworm in two.

When Musai returned, he was filled with dismay on seeing all of his silkworms killed, but he didn’t think of suspecting his own brother. He had placed a good supply of mulberry leaves for them only the day before, and each piece of worm came to life, and throve.

Now he had twice as many silkworms as before, and they spun double the amount of silk that he had expected; so his brother Chô had really done him a good turn when he tried to ruin him.

Musai began to prosper, much to the disgust of Chô, who proceeded to cut all of his own silkworms in half, thinking that of course the same good fortune would be his. But instead of coming to life again the worms died, which meant the loss of much money for him. This made him very jealous of his brother.

The musty rice-seed which he had given his brother, and which Musai had planted, also turned out well, for it flourished better than any of his own had done. This only added to his jealousy.

The time to cut and harvest the rice approached, when clouds of birds came and devoured it. Musai hastened to drive them away, and this he did again and again, but each time they returned.

Chasing them away was very tiring work, so he finally pursued them to a distant field, and then they disappeared. Here he lay down to rest, and soon fell asleep.

There came to him a dream in which he was surrounded by a band of merry children. They danced and sang and played games.

In the last of these the eldest of the children lifted up a stone which lay near Musai’s head and from beneath it drew a paper bag. With this in his hand he went to the center of the ring, and asked each child in turn, “What would you like to have out of the bag?”

One child answered, “A kite.” The bag was shaken, and out came a beautiful kite, string, tail and all. The next one said she would like a doll. The bag was again shaken and there was one, beautifully dressed, ready for her to hold in her arms.

Each child in turn was asked what he or she desired, and the bag granted every wish. At last they went home, but before leaving the field the boy who had taken the magic bag from beneath the stone carefully replaced it.

Soon Musai awoke, and so clear was the dream to him that he turned around to look for the stone, and there it was, close by his head. “How very strange,” he thought. Then, without really expecting to find anything, he raised the stone, and underneath it was the paper bag.

Holding this carefully in his hand, he returned to his home, and there he did as he had seen the children do in his dream. He called out “Gold,” or “Silver,” or whatever he thought of, shook the bag, and out came that which he had named.

Musai now became rich and prosperous. He told his brother how this good fortune had come to him in a dream, and this made Chô more jealous of him than before.

Chô made up his mind to get another such paper bag for himself, so he took some of Musai’s rice-seed, planted it, and waited impatiently for it to grow.

In due time it ripened, and now he waited for the birds to come and eat the rice. To his delight they came, and he lost no time in driving them away, pursuing them to the field where Musai had slept and dreamed.

He lay down, intending to follow his brother’s example, but found that he could not go to sleep, try as hard as he might. He had not been there long before a group of children came to the field and began to play and enjoy themselves. After a while they all sat down in a ring, and Chô, who pretended to be asleep, watched carefully out of one half-opened eye to see what they would do next.

He saw the eldest one come to the stone close to his head and lift it up, but there was no paper bag beneath it.

The boy was surprised, and said: “I believe this lazy old farmer has taken our bag,” and then he seized Chô’s nose, and gave it a good pull.

Chô then jumped up, and the boy repeated what he had said. The children wouldn’t believe him when he declared that he had touched neither the stone nor the bag, and they shouted and jeered at him.

But this was not the hardest thing that happened to him; for his nose, which the boy had pulled, began to grow. Larger and larger it became, until at last it reached the ground.

In his anger he struck right and left at the children, and ran from the field, holding his nose from the ground as well as he could.

He went to his brother’s house and told him what had occurred. Then a change came over him, and he felt ashamed of himself. He remembered how jealous he had been of Musai, and how he had tried to ruin him by killing his silkworms. He was humble, confessed everything, and asked his brother to forgive him.

Musai spoke kindly to him, and said that this punishment had come to him on account of his envy and jealousy, which bring happiness to no one.

Then he took the paper bag, and gently rubbed Chô’s nose with it. Gradually this became shorter and shorter, until at last it resumed its former shape.

This was a lesson that Chô was not allowed to forget, because whenever after this he attempted to do anything mean or dishonest, his nose would become sore, and in his terror lest it should grow again, he trained himself to live as a kindly, well-disposed man should do.

ROSAMOND, THE SWIFT OF FOOT

A certain king had an only daughter, who, while yet a child, was famed for her marvellous beauty and dignity of bearing. Her name was Rosamond, and in addition to her charm of face and figure, she excelled all others at athletic games. When only ten years of age so swift a runner was she that her equal at this sport could not be found.

When she became of marriageable age her father issued a proclamation that whoever could surpass her in speed should marry her, and become heir to the throne; but if he were to fail in the race, his life would be forfeit.

The penalty for lack of speed in the race was heavy, but many were those who made the attempt, hoping that they might succeed, only to perish as a result.

Now there was a poor man called Abibas, a wanderer with no place he could call home, who heard of the king’s proclamation, and he said to himself: “I am poor and have but little to lose; if I may overcome this princess and marry her I shall not only enrich myself, but will be able to assist my relatives and what friends I have.” So he resolved to accept the challenge.

But this man was wiser than the others, for he took the three following precautions: First, he framed a curious garland of roses, of which he discovered the princess was very fond. Then he procured a piece of the finest silk, knowing that this would attract the attention of most young women. And, lastly, he secured a silken bag in which he placed a gilded ball on which was written: “Whosoever plays with me shall never tire of play.” With these three things hidden within his blouse he went to the palace gate and declared his desire to enter the race for the hand of the princess.

It happened that the maiden herself was standing at a window close by and heard Abibas express his wish to run against her. Seeing that he was poor, with clothes threadbare and torn, she despised him, and said, “What poor wretch is this with whom I have to contend?” However, the king had to stand by the words of his proclamation, so preparations for the race were made.

Abibas soon saw that unless he should be able to take the attention of the princess away from the race he would be defeated. She was in the lead, so he took the garland of roses, which he had hidden, and skillfully threw it in front of her.

As he had foreseen, the maiden stopped to pick it up and put it on her head. The roses were indeed beautiful and gave forth a delightful perfume. She was charmed by their fragrance, and paused to admire them.

Abibas took advantage of this, and increasing his speed, rapidly passed her. This caused her to cry out in anger: “Never shall the daughter of a king be wed to such a clown as you.” She threw the garland from her and rushed onward like a whirlwind.

It was not long before she caught up with him, and extending her hand, she struck him upon the shoulder, saying: “Stop, foolish one, do you hope to marry a princess?”

As she was on the point of passing him Abibas drew forth the piece of silk, and threw it at her feet.

Rosamond was attracted by the beautiful color and texture of the material, and could not resist the temptation to stop and pick it up. Then she tied it round her waist, and by this time her adversary was considerably in advance of her.

She saw the consequence of her foolishness, and throwing away the piece of silk, flew on at such a pace that she soon overtook Abibas, whom she struck upon the arm, at the same time saying, “Fool, you shall _not_ marry me.”

They were not far from the goal, and in a few seconds the race would be over. The princess had almost won when Abibas threw at her feet the bag containing the gilded ball.

Rosamond could not help stopping to pick it up, and it was impossible for her not to open the bag to see what was inside. This she did, and then she read the inscription, “Who plays with me shall never tire of playing.”

The wise Abibas came first to the goal, and by the terms of the king’s proclamation he married the princess.

THE JACKAL, DEER, AND CROW

In a forest called Champak-Grove[1] lived two friends, a Deer and a Crow. The Deer was roaming among the trees one day, when he was observed by a Jackal.

[Footnote 1: The Champak is a bushy tree bearing a profusion of blossoms which resemble stars. It gives forth a delightful perfume.]

“Ho! Ho!” said the Jackal to himself, “If I can only win the confidence of this Deer, it may be that he will make a very fine meal for me.” So he approached the Deer, and wished him a very good morning.

“Who are you?” said the Deer.

“I’m Small-wit, the Jackal,” replied the other. “I live here all alone in the wood, and it is very lonely without anyone to talk to. It makes me very happy to know you, and I hope you will look upon me as your friend.”

“Very well,” said the Deer, so off they went together.

It was beginning to grow dark when the Crow, whose name was Sharp-sense, saw the two coming home together. He asked the Deer who his companion was.

“It is a Jackal who wishes to know us,” answered the Deer.

“You must be careful with whom you become friendly,” said Sharp-sense. “You know——

‘To folks by no one known house-room deny:— The Vulture housed the Cat, and thence did die.’”

“How was that?” asked the Deer and the Jackal.

“I will tell you,” replied the Crow.

“On the banks of the River Ganges is a cliff called Vulture-Crag, upon which was a large fig-tree. It was hollow, and inside it dwelt an old Vulture who had lost both eyes and talons, and who was kept alive with food given him by the friendly birds that roosted in the tree.

“One day, when the parent birds were away, a Cat came, thinking to make a meal of the young birds, of which there were several. The nestlings were so much afraid of the Cat that they made noise enough to arouse the Vulture.

“‘Who is there?’ croaked he.

“The Cat, seeing the Vulture, thought his end was surely come. He knew he couldn’t get away, so had to use his wits. Drawing nearer, he said:

“‘Honored sir, I wish you a very good morning.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked the Vulture.

“‘I am a Cat.’

“‘Go away at once, Cat, or I will kill you,’ said the Vulture.

“The Cat then begged the Vulture to listen to what he had to say, and afterward decide whether he should live or die.

“To this the Vulture consented, and so the Cat began:

“‘I live near the River Ganges, eating no flesh and doing many things by way of penance. The birds that often visit me have said so much in your praise that I have come here, hoping to learn wisdom from you. It is not possible that you, who must know the law of strangers, could think of slaying me. Without doubt you know what the book says about the householder:—

Bar not thy door to the stranger, be he friend or be he foe, For the tree will shade the woodman while his axe doth lay it low.

“Also:—

Greeting fair, and room to rest in; fire, and water from the well— Honor him for thine own honor—better is he than the best.

“Then there is the rebuke:—

Pity them that ask thy pity; who art thou to stint thy hoard, When the beauteous moon shines equal on the lowly and the lord!

“To all of which the Vulture said: ‘Your words have much weight, but cats are very fond of meat, and as there are young birds here I told you to go.’

“Then the Cat bowed his head to the ground, showing his humility. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I have overcome temptation, practised penance, and know the Scriptures. Always do I keep away from injuring others, for——

He who does and thinks no wrong— He who suffers, being strong— He whose harmlessness men know— Unto Heaven such doth go.’

“At length he won the old Vulture’s confidence, and went with him into the hollow tree and lived there. And day after day he stole some of the nestlings, and devoured them.

“The parent birds missed their young ones and sought everywhere for them, and the Cat soon saw that he would have to leave, so he slipped away from the hollow, and escaped.

“A little later the birds found the bones of the nestlings in the dwelling-place of the Vulture, and of course concluded that it was he whom they had helped who had so basely rewarded them. So they called a meeting of all the birds of the forest, told them what had happened, and the poor old Vulture was sentenced to death, and accordingly was executed.”

“Now you have my story,” said Sharp-sense, the Crow, “and this is why I warn you not to become friendly with people about whom you know nothing.”

Then said the Jackal, “When you first met the Deer neither of you knew anything about the other; how is it, then, that you are such friends now? I know I am only Small-wit, the Jackal, but the Deer is my friend, and I hope you will be also.”

“Don’t let us talk so much,” said the Deer, “let us all be friends and live happily together.”

“All right,” said Sharp-sense, “just as you say.”

In the morning each of them started early for his own feeding-ground, returning in the evening, as was their custom. One day the Jackal said to the Deer, “Come with me, and I will show you where there is a field full of sweet young wheat.”

The Deer went with him, and he certainly enjoyed the feast which he found ready. But the owner of the field saw him, set a snare, and the next day the Deer was caught in it.

Very soon Small-wit (who had been watching all the time) came along, and said to himself, “Oho! my scheme worked well. The Deer will furnish me with some very fine meals.”

Just then the Deer saw him and called out, “Friend, please gnaw the strings and set me free.”