Part 5

But Small-wit only walked around the snare, examining it carefully. “It certainly will hold,” said he to himself.

To the Deer he said, “These strings are very strong, and this is a fast day for me, so I cannot bite them. To-morrow I will do what I can for you.” With this he went away.

Very soon the Crow, who had been looking for his friend, came along, and seeing his sorry plight, asked him how this all happened.

The Deer replied that this came through disregarding the advice of a friend.

“Where is that rascally Jackal?” asked the Crow.

“He is waiting somewhere to taste my flesh,” answered the Deer.

With a deep sigh the Crow exclaimed, “You smooth-tongued, traitor Jackal, what an ill deed you have done!”

The Crow stayed through the night with his poor friend, trying to think of some way to free him, and at last he hit upon a plan which proved to be successful.

Early in the morning the master of the field, carrying a club in his hand, came to see if the snare had caught the Deer. Sharp-sense, as soon as he saw him approaching, said to his friend, “Look as though you were dead; stiffen out your legs and lie very still. I will make believe that I am pecking your eyes out. When I utter a loud croak you jump up quickly and run away as fast as you can.”

The Deer did as he was told, and when the farmer reached the snare, with the Deer in it quite dead, as he thought, he pulled up the net, and so released the captive. Then the Crow uttered a loud croak; up sprang the Deer and made off.

The husbandman was in a great rage at thus being outwitted, and threw his club at the fleeing Deer with all his might. But instead of hitting the Deer, it struck Small-wit, the Jackal, who was hiding close by, and killed him.

PIGEON-KING AND MOUSE-KING

A fowler, seeking to snare some birds, set a trap with which he might catch them. He fixed a net, scattered grains of rice about, and then hid himself in a place where he could watch.

Very soon “Speckle-neck,” King of the Pigeons, accompanied by his followers, flew that way. Of course he saw the rice-grains, and thought it very unusual that they should be lying on the ground in so lonely a spot as this was. He did not like the look of it, and so decided to take counsel with his followers before permitting them to eat the rice.

They were all hungry, and the younger ones did not wish to wait while the older and wiser pigeons took counsel together, but this they had to do. At length one of them laughed at the others, and taunted them with being afraid without any reason, and dared them to at once eat the rice which they all wanted. At this they all settled on the ground, and soon were caught in the net.

They then began to abuse the pigeon who had dared them, saying that it was through him they were all caught. But King Speckle-neck said they were all to blame, and the thing to do now was to find some way of escape, and not to waste precious time by quarreling. He thought carefully for a few moments, and then said.

“Many small things added together make a large one. Let us all rise under the net at the same instant and between us we will fly off with it.”

They decided to try this means of escape, and it happened just as the King said. They rose together, and flew away with the net. The fowler, who had hidden himself at some distance, saw the pigeons flying away with his net and hastened to stop them, but was too late, and soon they were out of sight.

The pigeons, seeing that they were safely away from the fowler, asked the King what they should do next.

Speckle-neck said, “A friend of mine named ‘Golden-skin,’ King of the Mice, lives near by. We will go to him, and he will cut these bonds.” They accordingly directed their flight to the hole of Golden-skin.

They soon arrived at the home of the Mouse-king, and Speckle-neck called to his friend to come out. Golden-skin came to the entrance, and told his friend how pleased he was to see him. “But what does this mean?” he exclaimed, looking at the pigeons all tangled up in the net.

Speckle-neck told him what had happened to them, and without a word the Mouse-king began to gnaw at the strings which held his friend. But the worthy Pigeon-king bade him to release the others first, and leave him until the last.

To this Golden-skin objected, but King Speckle-neck said that he could not bear to see those who depended upon him in such distress. Such heroism made the Mouse-king’s fur bristle up for pure pleasure.

“Nobly spoken!” said he. “Such tenderness for those who are dependent upon you makes me proud to be your friend.” With this, he set himself to the great task of cutting all their bonds, and in time all were free.

The Mouse-king then entertained them as hospitably as he could. The Pigeon-king and his followers thanked him for his great kindness, and Golden-skin embraced them all, after which he returned to his hole and the pigeons departed.

You may be sure that the young pigeons decided that the older ones were wiser in counsel than they, and to be more careful when “daring” their fellows.

HE WISHED TO LIVE FOREVER

A long time ago there lived in Japan a man named Opulo who was quite rich. There was really nothing about which he need worry, but one day the thought came to him that he might fall sick and die. Probably the only reason for this was because he didn’t have to earn his living, and so had very little to occupy his time.

“It seems to me,” said he to himself, “that a man ought to live a much longer life than he does. I am very comfortable here, with all I want to eat and drink, and plenty of money to spend, so why should I not enjoy life for hundreds of years without sickness or worry?”

He had heard of men in times gone by who had lived as long as that, and recalled the story of a certain Princess who had reached the age of five hundred years. Then he thought of that powerful Chinese King, Shiko, who built the great wall of China and many wonderful palaces, but who, in spite of his greatness and the luxury in which he lived, was never happy because he knew that some time he must die and give it all up.

This great ruler had heard that in a country called Horazai, far away across the seas, there lived certain hermits who possessed the secret of the “Draught of Life,” and that whoever should drink of this wonderful elixir would never die. So he ordered Jofuku, a courtier in whom he placed great confidence, to set out for the land of Horazai, and to bring back with him a phial of this magic fluid.

The Emperor had his finest junk made ready for a long voyage, and loaded it with rich gifts for the hermits. The courtier sailed away, but was never heard of again. Mount Fuji was supposed to be Horazai, and ever since then Jofuku has been worshipped as their god.

The story of the Emperor Shiko made such an impression on Opulo that he made up his mind to seek the hermits who held the secret of this marvelous water of life, and if possible to become one of them; so he started out on his quest.

He traveled, and traveled, climbing to the peaks of the highest mountains, and wandering through unknown regions, but meeting with no success.

At last it seemed to him that he was wasting time, so he decided to go straight to the shrine of Jofuku, to whom he would pray for assistance in his search.

He went to the temple devoted to this deity, and every day for a month he knelt there, and made his entreaty.

At the end of this time, while kneeling before the shrine, he was suddenly enveloped in a cloud, and when this cleared away he saw Jofuku himself standing before him.

Opulo bowed his head to the ground, and Jofuku said to him, “Your request is selfish and therefore hard to grant. You imagine that you would like to become a hermit such as those you seek, and so partake of the Elixir of Life. A hermit’s life is a hard one and not suited to an idle man who is used to enjoy every possible comfort. To be a hermit one must obey strict rules; he must eat only fruit and berries, and cut himself off from the ways of the world, so that he may become pure and free from unworthy desire.

“You, Opulo, have always been a lazy man, and have been too fond of good living. Do you think you could go barefoot and wear only one thin dress during the cold of winter? No, the life of a hermit is not for you!

“But there is something else I will do for you, and that is to send you to the Island of Continual Life, where death is unknown.”

Then Jofuku gave Opulo a small bird made of paper, and told him to sit upon it.

This the wondering Opulo did, and the bird began to grow. Soon it was large enough for him to ride on comfortably. With wings outspread it rose high up in the air, and away it flew.

The flight through the air was swift; on and on they went for hundreds and hundreds of miles without a stop, until at last they came to an island, and there the bird alighted.

Opulo stepped to the ground and the bird grew smaller and smaller. At last it became the same size as when Jofuku gave it to him, so he folded it up and put it in his pocket.

He walked on until he came to a town, where he found a place to lodge. Everything, of course, was strange to him; the streets and buildings were different from what he had been used to, and all the people looked prosperous.

Opulo told the owner of the house in which he obtained lodgings that he intended to live there permanently, so the worthy man kindly promised to help him all he could. He found a suitable house for him, and servants to attend to his comfort, so Opulo took up his residence in the land of Continual Life.

It was a strange country indeed in which he now lived. No one ever died there, nor even became sick, so doctors were unknown. But the people were not happy and contented; they had heard of a place called Paradise, but it was only a legend to them. They knew that one could not reach this wonderful land without dying, and death was something they longed for, but which never came to them.

Ordinary people have a dread of death, but these were very different, for they looked upon it as something very much to be desired. How they wished it could come to them, so that they could enter the happy land of Paradise!

To Opulo everything seemed to be upside down. He had come here hoping to live forever, and found the inhabitants wishing more than anything else that they could die. They had tried everything they could think of to bring this about, but without success. No one could even make himself ill, try as hard as he might; he couldn’t even raise a corn on his toe.

But Opulo was happy, for he had found what he sought. He assured himself that he would never tire of living, and was the only contented man on the island.

He changed from his former mode of living, and instead of doing nothing, he set himself up in business. And now that he had something to do, time passed very quickly.

Strange to say, after having lived there for two hundred years life began to be somewhat dull and monotonous. He wanted a change, for it was the same thing day after day, and year after year. He began to think that perhaps the other people were not so foolish when they wanted to die!

It would be fine if he could see his own country again; things would never be any different where he was now, and how wearisome it was getting to be!

Now he wanted to die, but couldn’t, and it was no use trying to.

One day he happened to think that his prayers to Jofuku had resulted in bringing him to this country. He would pray to Jofuku to take him away from it. Why did he not think of this before?

So he prayed, and to his surprise the paper bird came into his hand. It grew and grew as it had done before in the temple of Jofuku, and soon it was large enough for him to mount. It spread its wings, and they went flying through the air.

On and on they flew, stopping neither for rest nor food, and at length they reached the Japan Sea. Then he suddenly thought of the valuable business he had left behind. Why hadn’t he sold it, and taken the proceeds with him?

As soon as this thought came to him a storm came on. It rained hard, and of course the paper bird became wet, and being paper, it crumpled up and fell into the sea.

Now he was in danger of being drowned, and he was afraid. Not long ago he would have welcomed death. He called aloud to Jofuku to save him, but there was no reply.

He swam and swam, doing his best to keep from sinking. Then right in front of him he saw a huge fish, its mouth wide open, ready to devour him.

In his fright he screamed so loudly for Jofuku to save him that he awakened himself. For, behold, he had fallen asleep during his long prayers before the shrine, and all of this had come to him in a dream.

Then he heard a voice, and before him stood a messenger, who said:

“As you have prayed, so has Jofuku permitted you in a dream to see the land of Continual Life. You were not contented there and wished to return to your own country that you might die. And even your desire for death was not real, for when the fish was there to swallow you, you called on Jofuku to save you. There is only one thing for you to do; return to your home and live an industrious life, be helpful to yourself and to others, and thus will you be happy and live to a good old age. And be sure that any selfish desire you may have, even if it be granted, will never bring you happiness.”

THE CRANE AND THE CRAB

There was a small lake in Malwa called Lily-Water, and on its bank one day stood a Crane who seemed to be lost in thought.

It was the dry season and the water was low in the pond, in which were a good many fish. Now the Crane was very fond of fish, and he was trying to figure out a plan whereby he could satisfy his appetite.

At last he went to the water’s edge, and there he sat down. He assumed a most dejected look, and appeared to be so miserable that a Crab, who had been watching him, asked him why he was so down-hearted.

“It is because I am thinking of all who live in this pond that I am so sad,” said the Crane.

“Why should that be the reason?” asked the Crab.

“I will tell you,” said the Crane. “This morning I heard the fishermen who live near here say that they meant to catch every fish that swims in this water. Now I love a dish of fish myself, and the few that I should take would make but little difference among so many. And although if the fish in this pond are all captured there would be none left for me to subsist upon, it breaks my heart to think of the fate that is in store for them. Therefore am I so sad.”

Now some of the fishes overheard what the Crane said to the Crab, and they at once called a general meeting. One of them said: “In this case the Crane’s interests are the same as ours, because, while we furnish the food which keeps him alive there are many of us left, but when the fishermen capture us we shall die. Let us therefore confer with the Crane.”

This they decided to do, and so they went to him in a body.

“Good Crane,” they said, “what course is there for safety?”

“The only thing to do is to go elsewhere,” said the Crane. “This can easily be done, for if you wish I will carry you one by one to another pool.”

This the trembling fishes begged him to do, that is, all but one of them, who said:

“It is most unusual that a crane should take any thought for fishes, and I think that you mean to eat us, one by one.”

“That I do not,” said the Crane. “If you do not believe what I say, send one of your number with me, and he shall come back and tell you that I am to be trusted.”

They thought this was all right, and so selected their sharpest fish, one whom they considered could not be outwitted, and handed him over to the Crane.

The Crane took him in his bill and let him go in the other pool, and he showed the fish all over it. Then he carried him back to the others who were entirely satisfied, and said they were ready to go with him.

Then the Crane took them, one after another, and having eaten them, returned to report that he had safely deposited each in the pond.

At last only the Crab was left, and he asked to be taken, too. Now the Crane coveted the tender flesh of the Crab, and perhaps the latter saw a greedy look in his eyes. At any rate, when the Crane went to take hold of him with his beak, he said: “You cannot carry me like that, for I should certainly fall.”

The Crane told him not to fear, that he would be perfectly safe. But the Crab thought to himself: “If he once got hold of a fish, I doubt very much if he would really let it go into the pond. He shall carry me, but in such a way that I shall be safe.” So he said:

“Friend Crane, you cannot hold me tight enough in your bill, so I will hold on to you with my claws, and you can carry me that way.”

The Crane thought that would be all right, and so the other held on to his neck with his claws, and off they went.

They soon reached the spot where the Crane had eaten the fish, and the Crab saw that it was covered with fishbones.

“This is not the pond,” said the Crab; “please take me to it at once.”

“You will never see another pond,” replied the Crane, who thought that it would be the easiest thing in the world to shake the Crab from his neck. “I am now going to eat you, just as I have eaten every one of the fish, whose bones you can see if you look.”

“Do you think I am as stupid as those fish?” asked the Crab. Then he gave the Crane’s neck such a squeeze with his claws that the Crane almost died.

“That is just to remind you of what will happen if you don’t take me to the pond at once,” said the Crab.

The Crane now trembled with fear, and flew at once to the edge of the pond, and there, before entering the water the Crab tightened his grip so that the Crane’s neck was cut clear through.

THE LION AND THE HARE

In a large forest there lived a Lion who was very fierce. Such terror did he inspire among the other animals of the jungle, and so many of them did he kill for his daily food, that they held a public meeting to see what could be done about it.

After much parleying they drew up a respectful petition to the Lion in these words:

“Your Majesty, why do you thus create havoc among us? If it please you, we will ourselves furnish you daily with a beast for your Majesty’s meal.”

This petition they duly presented to the Lion, who said: “If this arrangement is more agreeable to you, I will be satisfied.” So, from that time a beast was allotted to him each day, they casting lots among themselves to see who should be selected.

Thus it became the turn of a wily old Hare to supply the royal table, and as he walked slowly along to keep his appointment he said to himself, “If I have to die I will take my time, and will go to my death as leisurely as possible.”

Now that day the Lion was very hungry, and he became very angry at being kept waiting for his meal, so when he saw the Hare walking along as though he had all day to spare he roared at him, “How dare you so delay your coming?”

“Sire,” replied the Hare, “It is not my fault that I am late. On the way here I was detained by another lion, who made me promise to return to him when I shall have told your Majesty that he awaits you.”

Of course, such insolence on the part of another lion made this one more angry than before, as the old Hare had intended it should, and he exclaimed in a rage, “Show me instantly where this impertinent villain of a lion lives.”

Then the Hare led the way until he came to a deep well, when he stopped and said, “Now, my Lord, come here and see him.”

So the Lion approached, and saw his own reflection in the water. Thinking that he was looking at the other lion, he flung himself furiously upon his own image, and so was drowned. You may be sure the old Hare lost no time in spreading the news of their enemy’s end to his friends of the jungle.

THE STORY OF CALIPH STORK

I.

Caliph Chasid, of Bagdad, was resting comfortably on his divan one fine afternoon. He was smoking a long pipe, and from time to time he sipped a little coffee which a slave handed to him, and after each sip he stroked his long beard with an air of enjoyment. In short, anyone could see that the Caliph was in an excellent humor. This was, in fact, the best time of day in which to approach him, for just now he was pretty sure to be both affable and in good spirits, and for this reason the Grand Vizier Mansor always chose this hour in which to pay his daily visit.

He arrived as usual this afternoon, but, contrary to his usual custom, with an anxious face. The Caliph withdrew his pipe for a moment from his lips and asked, “Why do you look so anxious, Grand Vizier?”

The Grand Vizier crossed his arms on his breast and bent low before his master as he answered:

“Oh, my lord! Whether my countenance be anxious or not I know not, but down below in the court of the palace is a pedler with such beautiful things that I cannot help feeling annoyed at having so little money to spare.”

The Caliph, who had wished for some time past to give his Grand Vizier a present, ordered his black slave to bring the pedler before him at once. The slave soon returned, followed by the pedler, a short, stout man with a swarthy face, and dressed in very ragged clothes. He carried a box containing all manner of wares—strings of pearls, rings, richly mounted pistols, goblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected everything, and the Caliph chose some handsome pistols for himself and Mansor, and a jeweled comb for the Vizier’s wife. Just as the pedler was about to close his box, the Caliph noticed a small drawer, and asked if there was anything else in it for sale. The pedler opened the drawer and showed them a box containing a black powder, and a scroll written in strange characters, which neither the Caliph nor Mansor could read.

“I got these two articles from a merchant who had picked them up in the street at Mecca,” said the pedler. “I do not know what they may contain, but as they are of no use to me, you are welcome to have them for a trifle.”

The Caliph, who liked to have old manuscripts in his library, even though he could not read them, purchased the scroll and the box, and dismissed the pedler. Then, being anxious to know what might be the contents of the scroll, he asked the Vizier if he did not know of anyone who might be able to decipher it.

“Most gracious lord and master,” replied the Vizier, “near the great Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned, who knows every language under the sun. Send for him; it may be that he will be able to interpret those mysterious characters.”

The learned Selim was summoned immediately.

“Selim,” said the Caliph, “I hear you are a scholar. Look well at this scroll and see whether you can read it. If you can, I will give you a robe of honor; but if you fail, I will order you to receive twelve strokes on your cheeks, and five-and-twenty on the soles of your feet, because you have been falsely called Selim the learned.”

Selim prostrated himself and said, “Be it according to your will, oh master!” Then he gazed long at the scroll. Suddenly he exclaimed: “May I die, oh, my Lord, if this isn’t Latin!”

“Well,” said the Caliph, “if it is Latin, let us hear what it means.”