"Strange that the Nightingale should sing only when that beggar youth is near! And yet the Dervish says it will not sing unless he who found it comes to the mosque! What can he mean?"

Report of the beggar youth reached the ears of the Sultan and he went to the Dervish and questioned him.

"Why do you say that the Nightingale Gisar will not sing unless he who found him comes to the mosque? Lo, here are my two sons who found him and the bird remains silent, yet people tell me that when a certain beggar comes to the mosque he sings. Why does he not sing when I and my two sons come to pray?"

And always the Dervish made the same answer in the same sing-song voice:

"Let him who found the Nightingale come to the mosque and then the Nightingale will sing."

Soon a terrifying rumor spread through the land that a great Warrior Princess called Flower o' the World was coming with a mighty army to make war on the Sultan and to destroy his city. Her army far outnumbered the Sultan's and when she encamped in a broad valley over against the city the Sultan's people, seeing her mighty hosts, were filled with dread and besought their ruler to make peace with the Princess at any cost. So the Sultan called his heralds and sent them to her and through them he said:

"Demand of me what you will even to my life but spare my city."

The Warrior Princess returned this answer:

"I will spare you and your city provided you deliver me your son who stole from me the Nightingale Gisar. Him I shall have executed or let live as it pleases me."

Now the Sultan's two sons knew that the Flower o' the World was fated to marry the man who had stolen from her the Nightingale Gisar, so when they heard the Princess's demand they were overjoyed thinking that she would have to fall in love with one of them. So they disputed at great length as to which of them had done the actual deed of taking the bird, each insisting that it was he and not his brother. The Sultan himself had finally to decide between them.

"You have told me," he said, "that you captured the bird together. As that is the case and as I can't send you both to the Warrior Princess it is only right that the older should go."

So under a splendid escort the oldest son rode to the tent of the Warrior Princess. She bade him enter alone and when he appeared before her she looked at him long and steadily. Then she said:

"Nay, but you are never the man who stole from me the Nightingale Gisar! You would lack the courage to face the perils of the way!"

The oldest prince answered the Flower o' the World craftily:

"But how, Princess, if I did not steal from you the Nightingale Gisar was I then able to bring back that glorious bird and hang his cage beside the fountain in the mosque?"

But Flower o' the World was not to be deceived by such specious words.

"Tell me then," she said, "if it was you who stole my glorious Nightingale, where did you find him hanging in his golden cage?"

The oldest prince could not answer this, so he said at random:

"I found his golden cage hanging in the cypress tree that grows in the garden of your palace."

"Enough!" cried the Princess.

She clapped her hands and when her guards appeared she said to them:

"Have this man executed at once and let his head be sent to the Sultan with the message: This is the head of a liar and a coward! Send me at once your son who stole my glorious Nightingale Gisar or I will march against your city!"

The Sultan was greatly shocked to receive this message together with the head of his oldest son.

"Alas!" he cried, calling his second son, "would that I had listened to you when you insisted that it was you and not your brother who actually did the deed! Unhappily I listened to your brother! See now the awful result of this mistake! Go you now to this heartless Princess whom men call Flower o' the World or else our poor defenseless city will have to pay the penalty."

So the second prince was taken to the tent of the Warrior Maiden and she put to him the same questions and he fared even worse than his brother had fared. So his head, too, was sent to the Sultan with this message:

"Send me no more liars and cowards but the son who actually did steal from me my glorious Nightingale Gisar."

In despair the Sultan went to the mosque to pray. As he bowed his head he heard the Nightingale burst forth in song. Then when he looked up he saw a beggar youth standing near the fountain.

When his prayers were finished the Sultan went outside to the Dervish and said to him:

"The Warrior Princess, Flower o' the World, demands that I send her another son. I know not where my Third Son is. What shall I do?"

Without looking at the Sultan the Dervish answered in his sing-song voice:

"Send her the son for whom the Nightingale sings."

The Sultan turned away in disappointment, not understanding what the Dervish meant, but one of his attendants plucked his sleeve and whispered:

"The Nightingale sings for yonder beggar youth. Perhaps it is he the Dervish means. Why not ask him if he will go to Flower o' the World in place of your Youngest Son?"



The Sultan nodded, so the attendant called the beggar youth and the Sultan asked him would he go to the Warrior Princess as the Youngest Prince.

"Allah alone knows where my Youngest Son is," the Sultan said, "but he is just about your age and if you were washed and anointed and dressed in fitting garments you would not be unlike him."

The beggar youth said he would go but he insisted on going just as he was. The Sultan begged him to go dressed as a prince or the Flower o' the World might not receive him.

"No," said the youth, "I shall go as a beggar or not at all. It is for the Flower o' the World to know me whether or not I am the Sultan's Youngest Son and the man who stole from her the Nightingale Gisar."

So he went as he was to the tent of the Flower o' the World and her warriors when they saw him coming said to the Princess:

"This Sultan mocks you and sends you a beggar when you demand his Third Son."

But the Flower o' the World ordered them all out and bade the beggar enter alone. She looked at him long and steadily and she saw through his rags that he was indeed a noble youth with a body made strong and beautiful through exercise and toil and she thought to herself:

"It were not a hard fate to marry this youth!"

Then she questioned him:

"Are you the Sultan's Third Son?"

"I am."

"Then why are you dressed as a beggar?"

"Because I was set upon at the crossroads and beaten insensible and my clothes torn to rags. I was coming home with the Nightingale Gisar in my hands and I lay down at the roadside to rest while I awaited the coming of my brothers. When I awoke to consciousness the Nightingale and its golden cage were gone. I came home to my father's city as a beggar and there they told me that my brothers had come just before me bringing with them the Nightingale and boasting of the perils they had been through and the dangers they had faced. But the Nightingale, they told me, hanging in its golden cage beside the fountain, was silent. Yet when I went to the mosque it always sang."

The Warrior Princess looked deep into his eyes and knew that he was speaking truth. Her heart was touched with compassion at the wrong he had suffered from his brothers, but she hid her feelings and questioned him further.

"Then it was you," she said, "who really took from me my glorious Nightingale Gisar?"

"Yes, Princess, it was. I crept past the lion and the wolf and the tiger just after midnight while they slept. I blew out the four candles at the head of your bed and lighted those at the foot. The golden cage of the Nightingale was hanging from a golden chain. Before I unfastened it I looked at you once, as you lay sleeping, and dared not look a second time."

"Why not?" the Princess asked.

"Because, O Flower o' the World, you were so beautiful that I feared, were I to look again, I should forget the Nightingale Gisar and cry out in ecstacy."

Then the compassion in the Princess's heart changed to love and she knew for a certainty that this was the man she was fated to wed.

She clapped her hands and when the guards came in she said to them:

"Call my warriors together that I may show them the Sultan's Youngest Son and the man who stole from me my glorious Nightingale Gisar and whom I am fated to wed."

So the warriors came in until they crowded the tent to its utmost. Then the Princess stood up and took the Sultan's Youngest Son by the hand and presented him to the warriors and told them of his great bravery and courage and of all the perils he had endured in order to get the Nightingale Gisar for his father's mosque.

"He came to me now as a beggar," she said, "but I knew him at once for truth was in his mouth and courage in his eye. Behold, O warriors, your future lord!"

Then the warriors waved their swords and cried:

"Long live the Flower o' the World! Long live the Sultan's Youngest Son!"

All the Princess's army when they heard the news raised such a mighty shout that the people in the Sultan's city heard and were filled with dread not knowing what it meant. But soon they knew and then they, too, went mad with joy that what had threatened to be a war was turning to a wedding!

The Flower o' the World and her chief warriors and with them the Youngest Prince rode slowly to the city. The Prince was now dressed as befitted his rank and the Sultan when he saw him recognized him at once.

"Allah be praised!" he cried, "my Youngest Son lives!"

Then they told him all—how it was this Prince and not the older brothers who had found the Nightingale Gisar and how the older brothers had robbed him of his prize and beaten him insensible.

When the Sultan heard how wicked his older sons had been his grief for their death was assuaged.

"Allah be praised," he said, "that I have at least one son who is worthy!"

After the betrothal ceremony the Sultan and the Youngest Prince went to the mosque to pray. While they prayed the Nightingale sang so gloriously that it seemed to them they were no longer on earth but in Paradise.

When their prayers were finished and they were passing out, the Dervish raised his sing-song voice and said:

"Now indeed is the Sultan's Mosque the most beautiful Mosque in the World for the Nightingale Gisar sings beside the Fountain!"



THE GIRL IN THE CHEST



The Story of the Third Sister Who Was Brave and Good



THE GIRL IN THE CHEST

There was once a horrible Vampire who took the form of a handsome young man and went to the house of an old woman who had three daughters and pretended he wanted to marry the oldest.

"I live far from here," the Vampire said. "I own my own farm and am well-to-do and in marrying me your daughter would get a desirable husband. Indeed, I am so well off that I don't have to ask any dowry."

Now the old woman was so poor that she couldn't have given a penny of dowry. That was the only reason why all three of her daughters hadn't long ago been married to youths of their own village. So when the stranger said he would require no dowry, the old woman whispered to her oldest daughter:

"He seems to be all right. Perhaps you had better take him."

The poor girl accepted her mother's advice and that afternoon started off with the Vampire who said he would lead her home and marry her.

They walked a great distance and as evening came on they reached a wild ghostly spot which frightened the girl half to death.

"This way, my dear," the Vampire said, pushing her into an opening in the earth. "We take this underground passage and soon we'll be home."

The passage led to a sort of cave which really was the Vampire's home.

"What an awful place!" the poor girl cried in terror. "Let me out!"

"Let you out, indeed!" the Vampire sneered, taking his own horrible shape and laughing cruelly. "Here you are and here you stay and if you don't do everything I tell you, I'll soon finish you! Here now, drink this."

He offered the poor girl a pitcher and when she saw what was in it she nearly fainted with horror.

"No!" she cried. "I won't! I won't!"

"If you don't drink this," the Vampire said, darkly, "then I'll drink you!"

And with that he killed her with no more feeling than if she were a fly.

Then in a short time he went back to the old woman and said:

"Dear mother, my poor wife is ill and she begs that you send her your second daughter to nurse her. She asks for her sister night and day and I fear she will die unless she sees her."

When the poor old mother heard this, she begged the second daughter to go at once with the young man and nurse her sick sister.

Well, the same thing happened to the second sister and in no time at all the Vampire had killed her, too, to satisfy his awful thirst.

Then he returned again to the old mother and this time he pretended that both sisters were sick and were trying for the third sister to come and nurse them. So the poor old woman sent her Youngest Daughter away with the Vampire.

The Youngest Sister when she found out the truth about the horrid Vampire didn't sit down and weep helplessly as the others had done and wait for the Vampire to kill her, but she prayed God's help and then tried to find some way of escape.

There were doors in the cave which the Vampire told her were doors to closets she must not enter. When the Vampire was out she opened these doors and found that they all led into long underground passages.

"This is my one chance to get back to earth!" the girl thought and commending her undertaking to God she fled down one of the passages.

You may be sure the Vampire when he came back and found her gone fell into a great rage. He went running wildly up and down the various passages and lost so much time searching the wrong passages that the girl was able to make good her escape and reach the upper world in safety.

She came out in a wood with no sign of human habitation anywhere in sight.

"What shall I do now?" she thought. "If I stay here alone and unprotected some wild beast or evil creature may get me."

So she knelt down and prayed God to give her a chest that she could lock from the inside with one of her own golden hairs so securely that no one could force it open. God heard her prayer and presently behind some bushes she found just such a chest. When it grew dark and she was ready to go to bed, she crept into the chest, locked it with a hair, and slept peacefully knowing that nothing could harm her.

So she lived in the wood some time, eating berries and fruits, and sleeping safely in the chest.

Now it so happened that the King's son one morning went hunting in this very wood and caught a glimpse of the girl as she was gathering berries. He thought he had never seen such a beautiful creature and instantly he fell in love with her. But when he reached the clump of bushes where he had seen her, she was gone. He called his huntsmen together and told them to search everywhere. They hunted for hours and all they could find was a chest. They tried to open the chest to see what was in it but couldn't.

"Waste no more time over it," the Prince said at last. "Carry it home to the palace as it is and have it placed in my chamber."

The huntsmen did this and a few hours later when the girl peeped out of her chest she found herself alone in the Prince's chamber. His supper was standing on a table in readiness for his coming. The girl ate the supper and was safely back in her chest before he arrived. When he did come the Prince was amazed to see empty plates and called the servants to know who had eaten his supper. The servants were as much surprised as the Prince and declared that no one had entered the chamber.

The same thing happened the next day and the following day the Prince had one of his servants hide behind the curtains and watch to find out if possible how the food disappeared.

The story the servant had to tell of what he saw was so thrilling that the Prince could scarcely wait for the next day when he himself hid behind the curtains and watched.

The serving people put the food on the table and retired and presently the lid of the chest opened and the Prince saw the beautiful maiden of the wood step out. When she sat down at the table the Prince slipped up behind her and caught her in his arms.

"You lovely creature!" he said, "I'm not going to let you escape me again!"

At first the girl was greatly frightened but the Prince reassured her, telling her that he loved her dearly and only wanted to make her his wife.

He led her at once to the King, his father, and the girl was so modest and lovely that the King soon agreed to the marriage.



Everybody in court was delighted—everybody, that is, but the Chamberlain who had had hopes of marrying his own daughter to the Prince. His daughter was an ugly ill-tempered girl and the Prince had never even looked at her. The Chamberlain was sure, however, that with a little more time he could arrange the match to his liking. So the appearance of this beautiful girl who came from Heaven knows where threw him into a fearful rage and he decided to do away with her at any cost. Now he had in his employ a great burly Blackamoor. He called this fellow to him and he told him that he must kidnap the girl at once and kill her. The Blackamoor who was accustomed to do such deeds for the Chamberlain nodded and said he would.

So when the palace was quiet that night he stole to the bedchamber where the girl was lying asleep, threw a great robe over her head to stifle her cries, and carried her off. She fainted away from fright and the Blackamoor thinking her dead tossed her into a field of nettles in the outskirts of the town.

Now, as you can imagine, in the morning there was a great uproar in the palace when it was discovered that the Prince's beautiful bride-to-be had disappeared. The Prince was utterly grief-stricken and refused to eat. The King and all the ladies of the court tried their best to comfort him but he turned away from them declaring he would die if his bride were not restored to him.

The rascally Chamberlain put his handkerchief to his eyes and pretended to weep he was so affected by the sight of the Prince's grief.

"My dear boy," he said, "I would that I could find this maiden for you! It breaks my heart to see you sad and unhappy! But I'm sorry to tell you that I hear she was a Vila and not a human maiden at all. You know how mysteriously she came, and now she's gone just as mysteriously. So put the thought of her out of your mind and I'm sure you'll soon find a human maiden who is worthy of your love. Come here, my daughter, and tell the Prince how sorry you are that he is in grief."

But the sight of the Chamberlain's ugly daughter only made the Prince long the more for the beautiful girl who was gone.

She meantime had found refuge in the hut of an old woman who had heard her groan in the early dawn when she lay among the nettles and had taken compassion on her.

"You may stay with me until you're well," the old woman said.

The girl was young and healthy and in a day or two had recovered the ill treatment she had suffered at the hands of the Blackamoor.

"Won't you let me live with you awhile, granny?" she said to the old woman. "I'll cook and scrub and work and you won't have to regret the little I eat."

"Can you cook? Because if you can perhaps you know a dish that would tempt the appetite of our poor young Prince," the old woman said. "You know the poor boy has had a terrible disappointment in love and he refuses to eat. The heralds were out this morning proclaiming that the King would richly reward any one who could prepare a dish that would tempt the Prince's appetite."

"Granny!" the girl said, "I know a wonderful way to prepare beans! Let me cook a dish of beans and do you carry them to the palace."

So the girl cooked the beans and placed them prettily in a dish and on one side of the dish she put a tiny little ringlet of her own golden hair.

"If he sees the hair," she thought to herself, "he'll know the beans are from me."

And that's exactly what happened. To please his father the Prince had consented to look at every dish as it came. He had already looked at hundreds of them before the old woman arrived and turned away from them all. Then the old woman came. As she passed before the Prince, she lifted the cover of the dish, held it towards him, and curtsied. The Prince was just about to turn away when he saw the tiny ringlet of hair.

"Oh!" he said. "Wait a minute! Those beans look good!"

To the King's delight he took the dish out of the old woman's hand, examined it carefully, and when no one was looking slipped the ringlet into his pocket. Then he ate the beans—every last one of them!

The King gave the old woman some golden ducats and begged her to prepare another dish for the Prince on the morrow.

So the next day the girl again sent a tiny ringlet of her hair on the side of the plate and again the Prince after scorning all the other food offered him took the old woman's dish and ate it clean.

On the third day the Prince engaged the old woman in conversation.

"Where do you live, granny?"

"In a little tumble-down house beside the nettles," she told him.

"Do you live alone?"

"Just now," the old woman said, "I have a dear girl living with me. I found her one morning lying in the nettles where some ruffians had left her for dead. She's a good girl and she scrubs and bakes and cooks for me and lets me rest my poor old bones."

Now the Prince knew what he wanted to know.

"Granny," he said, "to-morrow's Sunday. Now I want you to stay home in the afternoon because I'm coming to see you."

In great excitement the old woman hurried home and told the girl that the Prince was coming to see them on Sunday afternoon.

"He mustn't see me!" the girl said. "I'll hide in the bread trough under a cloth and if he goes looking for me you tell him that I've gone out."

"Foolish child!" the old woman said. "Why should you hide from a handsome young man like the Prince?"

But the girl insisted and at last when Sunday afternoon came the old woman was forced to let her lie down in the bread trough and cover her with a cloth.

The Prince arrived and when he found the old woman there alone he was mightily disappointed.

"Where's that girl who lives with you?" he asked.

"She's gone out," the old woman said.

"Then I think I'll wait till she comes back."

This made the old woman feel nervous.

"But, my Prince, I don't know when she's coming back."

Just then the Prince thought he saw something move in the bread trough.

"What's that lumpy thing in the bread trough, granny?"

"That? Oh, that's just dough that's rising, my Prince. I'm baking to-day."

"Then make me a loaf, granny. I'll wait for it until it rises and until you bake it. Then I'll eat it hot out of the oven."

What was the old woman to say to that? She fussed and fidgeted and thought again what a foolish young girl that was to be hiding in the bread trough when there was a handsome young Prince in the room.

"I don't know why that dough doesn't rise," she remarked at last.

"Perhaps there's something the matter with it," the Prince said.

Before the old woman could stop him, he jumped up, tossed the cloth aside, and there was his lovely bride!

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asked as he lifted her up and kissed her tenderly.

"Because I knew if you really loved me you would find me," she said.

"Now that I have found you," the Prince declared, "I shall never let you leave me again."

Then the girl told the Prince about the wicked Chamberlain and the Blackamoor and it was all she and the old woman could do to keep the Prince from drawing his sword and rushing out instantly to kill both of them.

The old woman begged the Prince to take the girl secretly to the King and have the King hear her story, and then let him pass judgment on the Chamberlain according to the laws of the land. At last the Prince agreed to this.

So they covered the girl's head with a veil and took her to the King. When the King heard her story he called the court together at once and told them the outrage that had been committed against his son's promised bride. He commanded that the murderous Blackamoor be executed the next day and he decreed that the Chamberlain and his wicked daughter be stripped of their lands and riches and sent into exile.

Let us hope that exile taught them the evil of their ways and made them repent.

As for the girl, she married the Prince and they lived together in great happiness. And she deserved to be happy, too, for she was a brave girl and a good girl and God loves people who are brave and good and blesses them.



THE WONDERFUL HAIR



The Story of a Poor Man Who Dreamed of an Angel



THE WONDERFUL HAIR

There was once a poor man who had so many children that he was at his wit's end how to feed them all and clothe them.

"Unless something turns up soon," he thought to himself, "we shall all starve to death. Poor youngsters—I'm almost tempted to kill them with my own hands to save them from suffering the pangs of hunger!"

That night before he went to sleep he prayed God to give him help. God heard his prayer and sent an angel to him in a dream.

The angel said to him:

"To-morrow morning when you wake, put your hand under your pillow and you will find a mirror, a red handkerchief, and an embroidered scarf. Without saying a word to any one hide these things in your shirt and go out to the woods that lie beyond the third hill from the village. There you will find a brook. Follow it until you come to a beautiful maiden who is bathing in its waters. You will know her from the great masses of golden hair that fall down over her shoulders. She will speak to you but do you be careful not to answer. If you say a word to her she will be able to bewitch you. She will hold out a comb to you and ask you to comb her hair. Take the comb and do as she asks. Then part her back hair carefully and you will see one hair that is coarser than the others and as red as blood. Wrap this firmly around one of your fingers and jerk it out. Then flee as fast as you can. She will pursue you and each time as she is about to overtake you drop first the embroidered scarf, then the red handkerchief, and last the mirror. If you reach the hill nearest your own village you are safe for she can pursue you no farther. Take good care of the single hair for it great value and you can sell it for many golden ducats."

In the morning when the poor man awoke and put his hand under his pillow he found the mirror and the handkerchief and the scarf just as the angel had said he would. So he hid them carefully in his shirt and without telling any one where he was going he went to the woods beyond the third hill from the village. Here he found the brook and followed it until he came to a pool where he saw a lovely maiden bathing.

"Good day to you!" she said politely.

The poor man remembering the angel's warning made no answer.



The maiden held out a golden comb.

"Please comb my hair for me, won't you?"

The man nodded and took the comb. Then he parted the long tresses behind and searched here and there and everywhere until he found the one hair that was blood-red in color and coarser than the others. He twisted this firmly around his finger, jerked it quickly out, and fled.

"Oh!" cried the maiden. "What are you doing? Give me back my one red hair!"

She jumped to her feet and ran swiftly after him. As she came close to him, he dropped behind him the embroidered scarf. She stooped and picked it up and examined it awhile. Then she saw the man was escaping, so she tossed the scarf aside and again ran after him. This time he dropped the red handkerchief. Its bright color caught the maiden's eye and she picked it up and lost a few more minutes admiring it while the man raced on. Then the maiden remembered him, threw away the handkerchief, and started off again in pursuit.

This time the man dropped the mirror and the maiden who of course was a Vila and had never seen a mirror before picked it up and looked at it and when she saw the lovely reflection of herself she was so amazed that she kept on looking and looking. She was still looking in it and still admiring her own beauty when the man reached the third hill beyond which the maiden couldn't follow him.

So the poor man got home with the hair safely wound about his finger.

"It must be of great value," he thought to himself. "I'll take it to the city and offer it for sale there."

So the next day he went to the city and went about offering his wonderful hair to the merchants.

"What's so wonderful about it?" they asked him.

"I don't know, but I do know it's of great value," he told them.

"Well," said one of them, "I'll give you one golden ducat for it."

He was a shrewd buyer and the others hearing his bid of one golden ducat decided that he must know that the hair was of much greater value. So they began to outbid him until the price offered the poor man reached one hundred golden ducats. But the poor man insisted that this was not enough.

"One hundred golden ducats not enough for one red hair!" cried the merchants.

They pretended to be disgusted that any one would refuse such a price for one red hair, but in reality they were all firmly convinced by this time that it was a magic hair and probably worth any amount of money in the world.

The whole city became excited over the wonderful hair for which all the merchants were bidding and for a time nothing else was talked about. The matter was reported to the Tsar and at once he said that he himself would buy the hair for one thousand golden ducats.

One thousand golden ducats! After that there was no danger of the poor man's many children dying of starvation.

And what do you suppose the Tsar did with the hair? He had it split open very carefully and inside he found a scroll of great importance to mankind for on it were written many wonderful secrets of nature.



THE BEST WISH



The Story of Three Brothers and an Angel



THE BEST WISH

There were once three brothers whose only possession was a pear tree. They took turns guarding it. That is to say while two of them went to work the third stayed at home to see that no harm came to the pear tree.

Now it happened that an Angel from heaven was sent down to test the hearts of the three brothers. The Angel took the form of a beggar and approaching the pear tree on a day when the oldest brother was guarding it, he held out his hand and said:

"In heaven's name, brother, give me a ripe pear."

The oldest brother at once handed him a pear, saying:

"This one I can give you because it is mine, but none of the others because they belong to my brothers."

The Angel thanked him and departed.

The next day when the second brother was on guard he returned in the same guise and again begged the charity of a ripe pear.

"Take this one," the second brother said. "It is mine and I can give it away. I can't give away any of the others because they belong to my brothers."

The Angel thanked the second brother and departed.

The third day he had exactly the same experience with the youngest brother.

On the following day the Angel, in the guise of a monk, came to the brothers' house very early while they were still all at home.

"My sons," he said, "come with me and perhaps I can find you something better to do than guard a single pear tree."

The brothers agreed and they all started out together. After walking some time they came to the banks of a broad deep river.

"My son," the Angel said, addressing the oldest brother, "if I were to grant you one wish, what you ask?"

"I'd be happy," the oldest brother said, "if all this water was turned into wine and belonged to me."



The Angel lifted his staff and made the sign of the cross and lo! the water became wine from great wine-presses. At once numbers of casks appeared and men filling them and rolling them about. A huge industry sprang up with sheds and storehouses and wagons and men running hither and thither and addressing the oldest brother respectfully as "Master!"

"You have your wish," the Angel said. "See that you do not forget God's poor now that you are rich. Farewell."

So they left the oldest brother in the midst of his wine and went on farther until they came to a broad field where flocks of pigeons were feeding.

"If I were to grant you one wish," the Angel said to the second brother, "what would you ask?"

"I'd be happy, father, if all the pigeons in this field were turned to sheep and belonged to me."

The Angel lifted his staff, made the sign of the cross, and lo! the field was covered with sheep. Sheds appeared and houses and women, some of them milking the ewes and others skimming the milk and making cheeses. In one place men were busy preparing meat for the market and in another cleaning wool. And all of them as they came and went spoke respectfully to the second brother and called him, "Master!"

"You have your wish," the Angel said. "Stay here and enjoy prosperity and see that you do not forget God's poor!"

Then he and the youngest brother went on their way.

"Now, my son," the Angel said, "you, too, may make one wish."

"I want but one thing, father. I pray heaven to grant me a truly pious wife. That is my only wish."

"A truly pious wife!" the Angel cried. "My boy, you have asked the hardest thing of all! Why, there are only three truly pious women in all the world! Two of them are already married and the third is a princess who is being sought in marriage at this very moment by two kings! However, your brothers have received their wishes and you must have yours, too. Let us go at once to the father of this virtuous princess and present your suit."

So just as they were they trudged to the city where the princess lived and presented themselves at the palace looking shabby and travel-stained.

The king received them and when he heard their mission he looked at them in amazement.

"This makes three suitors for my daughter's hand! Two kings and now this young man all on the same day! How am I going to decide among them?"

"Let heaven decide!" the Angel said. "Cut three branches of grape-vine and let the princess mark each branch with the name of a different suitor. Then let her plant the three branches to-night in the garden and to-morrow do you give her in marriage to the man whose branch has blossomed during the night and by morning is covered with ripe clusters of grapes."

The king and the two other suitors agreed to this and the princess named and planted three branches of grape-vine. In the morning two of the branches were bare and dry, but the third, the one which was marked with the name of the youngest brother, was covered with green leaves and ripe clusters of grapes. The king accepted heaven's ruling and at once led his daughter to church where he had her married to the stranger and sent her off with his blessing.

The Angel led the young couple to a forest and left them there.

A year went by and the Angel was sent back to earth to see how the three brothers were faring. Assuming the form of an old beggar, he went to the oldest brother who was busy among his wine-presses and begged the charity of a cup of wine.

"Be off with you, you old vagabond!" the oldest brother shouted angrily. "If I gave a cup of wine to every beggar that comes along I'd soon be a beggar myself!"

The Angel lifted his staff, made the sign of the cross, and lo! the wine and all the wine-presses disappeared and in their place flowed a broad deep river.

"In your prosperity you have forgotten God's poor," the Angel said. "Go back to your pear tree."

Then the Angel went to the second brother who was busy in his dairy.

"Brother," the Angel said, "in heaven's name, I pray you, give me a morsel of cheese."

"A morsel of cheese, you lazy good-for-nothing!" the second brother cried. "Be off with you or I'll call the dogs!"

The Angel lifted his staff, made the sign of the cross, and lo! the sheep and the dairy and all the busy laborers disappeared and he and the second brother were standing there alone in a field where flocks of pigeons were feeding.

"In your prosperity you have forgotten God's poor," the Angel said. "Go back to your pear tree!"

Then the Angel made his way to the forest where he had left the youngest brother and his wife. He found them in great poverty living in a mean little hut.

"God be with you!" said the Angel still in the guise of an old beggar. "I pray you in heaven's name give me shelter for the night and a bite of supper."

"We are poor ourselves," the youngest brother said.

"But come in, you are welcome to share what we have."

They put the old beggar to rest at the most comfortable place beside the fire and the wife set three places for the evening meal. They were so poor that the loaf that was baking in the oven was not made of grain ground at the mill but of pounded bark gathered from the trees.

"Alas," the wife murmured to herself, "it shames me that we have no real bread to put before our guest."

Imagine then her surprise when she opened the oven and saw a browned loaf of wheaten bread.

"God be praised!" she cried.

She drew a pitcher of water at the spring but when she began pouring it into the cups she found to her joy that it was changed to wine.

"In your happiness," the Angel said, "you have not forgotten God's poor and God will reward you!"

He raised his staff, made the sign of the cross, and lo! the mean little hut disappeared and in its place arose a stately palace full of riches and beautiful things. Servants passed hither and thither and addressed the poor man respectfully as "My lord!" and his wife as "My lady!"

The old beggar arose and as he went he blessed them both, saying:

"God gives you these riches and they will be yours to enjoy so long as you share them with others."

They must have remembered the Angel's words for all their lives long they were happy and prosperous.



THE VILAS' SPRING



The Story of the Brother Who Knew That Good Was Stronger Than Evil



THE VILAS' SPRING

There was once a rich man who had two sons. The older son was overbearing, greedy, and covetous. He was dishonest, too, and thought nothing of taking things that belonged to others. The younger brother was gentle and kind. He was always ready to share what he had and he was never known to cheat or to steal.

"He's little better than a fool!" the older brother used to say of him scornfully.

When the brothers grew to manhood the old father died leaving directions that they divide his wealth between them, share and share alike.

"Nonsense!" the older brother said. "That fool would only squander his inheritance! To every poor beggar that comes along he'd give an alms until soon my poor father's savings would be all gone! No! I'll give him three golden ducats and a horse and tell him to get out and if he makes a fuss I won't give him that much!"

So he said to his younger brother:

"You're a fool and you oughtn't to have a penny from our father's estate. However, I'll give you three golden ducats and a horse on condition that you clear out and never come back."

"Brother," the younger one said quietly, "you are doing me a wrong."

"What if I am?" sneered the older. "Wrong is stronger than Right just as I am stronger than you. Be off with you now or I'll take from you even these three golden ducats and the horse!"

Without another word the younger brother mounted the horse and rode away.

Time went by and at last the brothers chanced to meet on the highway.

"God bless you, brother!" the younger one said.

"Don't you go God-blessing me, you fool!" the older one shouted. "It isn't God who is powerful in this world but the Devil!"

"No, brother," the other said, "you are wrong. God is stronger than the Devil just as Good is stronger than Evil."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes, brother, I'm sure."

"Well, then, let us make a wager. I'll wager you a golden ducat that Evil is stronger than Good and we'll let the first man we meet on this road decide which of us is right. Do you agree?"

"Yes, brother, I agree."

They rode a short distance and overtook a man who seemed to be a monk. He wasn't really a monk but the Devil himself disguised in the habit of a monk. The older brother put the case to him and the false monk at once answered:

"That's an easy question to decide. Of course Evil is stronger than Good in this world."

Without a word the younger brother took out one of his golden ducats and handed it over.

"Now," sneered the older one, "are you convinced?"

"No, brother, I am not. No matter what this monk says I know that Good is stronger than Evil."

"You do, do you? Then suppose we repeat the wager and ask the next man we meet to decide between us."

"Very well, brother, I'm willing."

The next man they overtook looked like an old farmer, but in reality he was the Devil again who had taken the guise of a farmer. They put the question to him and of course the Devil made the same answer:

"Evil is stronger than Good in this world."

So again the younger brother paid his wager but insisted that he still believed Good to be stronger than Evil.

"Then we'll make a third wager," the other said.

With the Devil's help the older brother won the third golden ducat which was all the money the younger one had. Then the older brother suggested that they wager their horses and the Devil, disguised in another form, again acted as umpire and the younger one of course lost his horse.

"Now I have nothing more to lose," he said, "but I am still so sure that Good is stronger than Evil that I am willing to wager the very eyes out of my head!"

"The more fool you!" the other one cried brutally.

Without another word he knocked his younger brother down and gouged out his eyes.

"Now let God take care of you if He can! As for me I put my trust in the Devil!"

"May God forgive you for speaking so!" the younger one said.

"I don't care whether He does or not! Nothing can harm me! I'm strong and I'm rich and I know how to take care of myself. As for you, you poor blind beggar, is there anything you would like me to do for you before I ride away?"



"All I ask of you, brother, is that you lead me to the spring that is under the fir tree not far from here. There I can bathe my wounds and sit in the shade."

"I'll do that much for you," the older one said, taking the blinded man by the hand. "For the rest, God will have to take care of you."

With that he led him over to the fir tree and left him. The blinded man groped his way to the spring and bathed his wounds, then sat down under the tree and prayed God for help and protection.

When night came he fell asleep and he slept until midnight when he was awakened by the sound of voices at the spring. A company of Vilas were bathing and playing as they bathed. He was blind, as you remember, so he couldn't see their beautiful forms but he knew that they must be Vilas from their voices which were as sweet as gurgling waters and murmuring treetops. Human voices are never half so lovely. Yes, they must be Vilas from the mountains and the woods.

"Ho, sisters!" cried one of them, "if only men knew that we bathed in this spring, they could come to-morrow and be healed in its water—the maimed and the halt and blind! To-morrow this water would heal even the king's daughter who is afflicted with leprosy!"

When they were gone the blind man crept down to the spring and bathed his face. At the first touch of the healing water his wounds closed and his sight was restored. With a heart full of gratitude he knelt down and thanked God for the miracle. Then when morning came he filled a vessel with the precious water and hurried to the king's palace.

"Tell the king," he said to the guards, "that I have come to heal his daughter."

The king admitted him at once to the princess's chamber and said to him:

"If you succeed in healing the princess you shall have her in marriage and in addition I shall make you heir to my kingdom."

The moment the princess was bathed in the healing water she, too, was restored to health and at once the proclamation was sent forth that the princess was recovered and was soon to marry the man who had cured her.

Now when the evil older brother heard who this fortunate man was, he could scarcely contain himself for rage and envy.

"How did that fool get back his sight?" he asked himself. "What magic secret did he discover that enabled him to heal the princess of leprosy? Whatever it was he got it under the fir tree for where else could he have got it? I've a good mind to go to the fir tree myself to-night and see what happens."

The more he thought about it the surer he became that if he went to the fir tree in exactly the same condition as his brother he, too, would have some wonderful good fortune. So when night came he seated himself under the tree, gouged out his eyes with a knife, and then waited to see what would happen. At midnight he heard the Vilas at the spring but their voices were not sweet but shrill and angry.

"Sisters," they cried to each other, "have you heard? The princess is healed of leprosy and it was with the water of this, our spring! Who has spied on us?"

"While we were talking last night," said one, "some man may have been hiding under the fir tree."

"Let us see if there is any one there to-night!" cried another.

With that they all rushed to the fir tree and took the man they found sitting there and in a fury tore him to pieces as though he were a bit of old cloth. So that was the end of the wicked older brother. And you will notice that in his hour of need his friend, the Devil, was not on hand to help him.

So after all it was the younger brother who finally inherited all his father's wealth. In addition he married the princess and was made heir to the kingdom. So you see Good is stronger than Evil in this world.



LORD AND MASTER



The Story of the Man Who Understood the Language of the Animals



LORD AND MASTER

There was once a young shepherd, an honest industrious fellow, who passed most of his time in the hills looking after his master's flocks. One afternoon he happened upon a bush which some gipsies had set a-fire. As he stopped to watch it he heard a strange hissing, whistling sound. He went as close as he could and in the center of the bush which the flames had not yet reached he saw a snake. It was writhing and trembling in fear.

"Help me, brother!" the snake said. "Help me and I will reward you richly! I swear I will!"

The shepherd put the end of his crook over the flames and the snake crawled up the crook, up the shepherd's arm, and wound itself about his neck.

It was now the shepherd's turn to be frightened.

"What! Will you kill me as a reward for my kindness?"

"Nay," the snake said. "Do not be afraid. I will not injure you. Do as I tell you and you will have nothing to regret. My father is the Tsar of the Snakes. Take me to him and he will reward you for rescuing me."

"But I can't leave my flocks," the shepherd said.

"Have no fear about your flocks. Nothing will happen to them in your absence."

"But I don't know where your father, the Tsar of the Snakes, lives," the shepherd protested.

"I'll show you," the snake said. "I'll point out the direction with my tail."

So in spite of his misgivings the shepherd at last agreed to the snake's suggestion and, leaving his sheep in God's care, started up the mountainside in the direction which the snake pointed out with his tail.

They reached finally a sort of pocket in the hills which was sandy and rocky and exposed to the full force of the sun. The snake directed the shepherd to the entrance of a cave which had a huge door composed entirely of living snakes closely wound together. The shepherd's snake said something in his breathy whistling voice and the door pulled itself apart and allowed the shepherd to enter the cave.

"Now," whispered the snake, "when my father asks you what you want, tell him you want the gift of understanding the language of the animals. He will try to give you something else but don't you accept anything else."

The Tsar of the Snakes was a huge creature clothed in a gorgeous skin of red and yellow and black. They found him reclining on a golden table with a crown of precious jewels on his head.

"My son!" he cried, when he saw the snake that was still wound about the shepherd's neck, "where have you been? We have been grieving for you thinking you had met some misfortune."

"But for this shepherd, my father," the snake said, "I should have been burned to death. He rescued me."

Then he told the Tsar of the Snakes the whole story. The Tsar of the Snakes listened carefully and when the Snake Prince was finished he turned to the shepherd and said:

"Sir, I am deeply indebted to you for saving my son's life. Ask of me anything I can grant and it is yours."

"Give me then," the shepherd said, "the gift of understanding the language of the animals."

"Not that!" the Tsar of the Snakes cried. "It is too dangerous a gift! If ever you confessed to some other human being that you had this gift and repeated what some animal said you would die that instant. Ask something else—anything else!"

"No," the shepherd insisted. "Give me that or nothing!"

When the Tsar of the Snakes saw that the shepherd was not to be dissuaded, he said:

"Very well, then. What must be, must be. Come now very close to me and put your mouth against my mouth. Do you breathe three times into my mouth and I shall breathe three times into your mouth. Then you will understand the language of the animals."

So the shepherd put his mouth close to the mouth of the Tsar of the Snakes and breathed into it three times. Then the Tsar of the Snakes breathed into the shepherd's mouth three times.

"Now you will understand the language of all animals," the Tsar of the Snakes said. "It is a dangerous gift but if you remember my warning it may bring you great prosperity. Farewell."

So the shepherd went back to his flocks and lay down under a fir tree to rest. Presently he wondered whether he hadn't been asleep and dreamed about the burning bush and the snake and the Tsar of the Snakes.

"It can't be real!" he said to himself. "How can I or any man understand the language of the animals!"



Just then two ravens alighted on the tree above his head.

"Caw! Caw!" said one of them. "Wouldn't that shepherd be surprised if he knew he was lying on some buried treasure!"

"Caw! Caw!" laughed the other. "He'll never know for he's only one of those poor stupid human beings who can't understand a word we say!"

The ravens flew off and the shepherd sat up and rubbed his eyes to make sure he was awake.

"Am I dreaming again?" he asked himself, "or did I really understand them? Well, I'll soon find out. To-morrow I'll bring a spade and then if there's any treasure buried under this tree I won't be long in digging it up."

He marked the spot where he had been lying when the ravens spoke and the next day came back and dug. Three feet below the surface his spade hit something that proved to be a big iron pot chock-full of golden ducats.

He carried the treasure to his master and his master was so pleased at his honesty that he gave him half of it.

So now the shepherd was able to set up in life for himself. He bought a farm and married and "settled down" as the saying is. The years went by and he grew prosperous and rich.

One Christmas Eve he said to his wife:

"I'm thinking, wife, of my youth when I was a shepherd and how lonely it was at times like this when other folk were at home seated about the fire and making merry. Let us give our shepherds out on the hills a surprise to-night. We can take them meats and wine and other food and then I'll go out and guard the sheep while you serve them a fine Christmas supper."

His wife agreed and they mounted their horses and rode out to the hills taking with them great hampers of food and wine. The wife entertained the shepherds in their hut with a big jolly supper and the master stayed outside all night with the dogs guarding the sheep.

At midnight some wolves came prowling around the flocks.

"See here," they said to the dogs, "if you let us in we'll kill the sheep and then we'll divide the carcasses with you."

The dogs for the most part were young and thoughtless and ready enough to fall in with the wolves' suggestion. But there was one old sheepdog that nothing could tempt.

"I've only a few teeth left!" he growled, "but those few are still sound and let any wolf come a step nearer and I'll tear him to pieces!"

All night long that one old sheepdog stood on guard faithful to duty.

In the morning the master ordered the shepherds to kill the young dogs and train in new ones.

The shepherds were surprised.

"The master's a clever one!" they told each other. "Just one night and he found out how worthless those young dogs were!"

As the farmer and his wife were riding home, the farmer's horse ran on ahead.

"Not so fast!" begged the mare that the wife was riding. "Have pity on me and go more slowly. You have only the master to carry while I'm all laden down with hampers and empty jugs and I don't know what and with a mistress that's twice as big as she was a few months ago!"

The farmer when he heard the mare's complaint burst out laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" his wife asked sharply.

"Nothing," the farmer said.

"You're laughing at me!" the wife declared, "I know you are, just because I'm so big that I'm awkward in the saddle!"

"No, my dear, I'm not laughing at you, truly I'm not."

"You are! I know you are and I don't think it's kind of you, either!" And the wife burst into tears.

"Now, my dear," the husband said, soothingly, "be sensible and believe me when I tell you I was not laughing at you."

"Then what were you laughing at?"

"I can't tell you because if I did tell you then I should die the next moment."

"Die the next moment!" the wife said. "Stuff and nonsense! It must be a strange thing indeed if a man can't tell his own wife for fear he'll die the next moment!"

The more she thought about it the more enraged she became and also the more curious.

"If you really loved me, you'd tell me!" she wept.

All the way home she kept on worrying her husband and nagging at him until at last in utter exhaustion he said:

"Peace, woman, peace, and I'll tell you! But first let me have my coffin made for as I've warned you I shall die the moment I've spoken."

So he had the village carpenter build him a coffin and when it was ready he stood it up on end against the house and got inside of it.

The news of what was about to happen spread among the animals and the faithful old sheepdog hurried down from the hills to be with his master at the end. He lay down at the foot of the coffin and howled.

"I've one faithful friend!" the farmer said. "Wife, give the poor dog some bread before I tell you my secret and die."

The woman threw the old dog a hunk of bread but the dog refused it and kept on howling.

The rooster from the barnyard came running up and began gobbling down the bread with great gusto.

"You shameless animal!" the dog said sternly. "Here's the poor master about to die on account of that foolish inquisitive wife of his and yet you have so little feeling that you're delighted at the chance to gorge yourself with food!"

The rooster clucked scornfully.

"See here, old dog, I can't waste any sympathy on that master of ours! Any man who allows his wife to bully him deserves whatever he gets! Look at me!" The rooster puffed out his chest and gave a loud: "Cock-a-doodle-do! I've got fifty wives but do they bully me? They do not! Whenever I find a nice fat worm or a grain of corn I set up an awful noise and gather them all around me. Then I eat it while they stand there and admire me! No, no, old dog, I have no patience with the master! He has only one wife and he doesn't know how to rule her!"

"The rooster's right!" thought the farmer.

With that he jumped out of the coffin, picked up a stick, and gave his wife a sound beating.

"So you'd kill your husband just to satisfy your curiosity, would you?" he shouted angrily. "Very well, then! Take this and this and this! And if your curiosity is still unsatisfied I'll give you some more!"

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" cried the wife. "Do you want to injure me!"

But the farmer did not stop until he had given her such a whipping that she never forgot it. When it was over she begged his pardon humbly and promised never again to ask him anything that he didn't want to tell her.

"You just mustn't let me be so foolish again!" she said.

"I won't!" the farmer declared.

Then he puffed out his chest and strutted about until you'd have laughed to see him—he looked so much like the rooster!



THE SILVER TRACKS



The Story of the Poor Man Who Befriended a Beggar



THE SILVER TRACKS

There were once three brothers who lived in the same village. One of them was very rich. He had houses and fields and barns. He had nothing to spend his money on for he had no children and his wife was as saving and hardworking as himself. The second brother was not so rich but he, too, was prosperous. He had one son and all his thought was to accumulate money and property in order to leave his son rich. He schemed and worked and slaved and made his wife do the same.

The third brother was industrious but very poor. He worked early and late and never took a holiday. He couldn't afford to for he had a wife and ten children and only by working every hour of the day and often far into the night could he earn enough to buy food for so large a family. He was a simple man and a good man and he taught his children that the most important thing for them to do in life was to love God and be kind to their fellowmen.

Now it happened that once, when our Lord Christ was on earth testing out the hearts of men, he came in the guise of a beggar to the village where the three brothers lived. He came in a brokendown cart driving a wheezy old horse. It was cold and raining and night was falling.

The Beggar knocked at the door of the richest brother and said:

"I pray you in God's name give shelter for the night to me and my horse."

"What!" cried the rich man, "do you suppose I have nothing better to do than give shelter to such as you! Be off with you or I'll call my men and have them give you the beating you deserve!"

The Beggar left without another word and went to the house of the next brother. He was civil at least to the Beggar and pretended that he was sorry to refuse him.

"I'd accommodate you if I could," he said, "but the truth is I can't. My house isn't as big as it looks and I have many people dependent on me. Just go on a little farther and I'm sure you'll find some one who will take you in."

The Beggar turned his horse's head and went to the tiny little house where the poor brother lived with his big family. He knocked on the door and begged for shelter.

"Come in, brother," said the Poor Man. "We're pretty crowded here but we'll find a place for you."

"And my horse," the Beggar said; "I'm afraid to leave him out in the rain and cold."

"We'll stable him with my donkey," the Poor Man said. "Do you come in here by the fire and dry off and I'll see to the horse."

The Poor Man pulled out his own cart until it was exposed to the rain in order to make a dry place in the shed for the Beggar's cart. Then he led the Beggar's gaunt horse into his tiny stable and fed him for the night out of his own slender store of oats and hay.

He and his family shared their evening meal with the Beggar and then made up for him a bed of straw near the fire where he was able to pass the night comfortably and warmly.

The next morning as he was leaving he said to the Poor Man:

"You must come sometime to my house and visit me and let me return the hospitality you have shown me."

"Where do you live?" the Poor Man asked.

"You can always find me," the Beggar said, "by following the tracks of my cart. You will know them because they are broader than the tracks of any other cart. You will come, won't you?"

"Yes," the Poor Man promised, "I will if ever I have time."

They bade each other good-by and the Beggar drove slowly off. Then the Poor Man went to the shed to get his own cart and the first thing he saw were two large silver bolts lying on the ground.

"They must have fallen from the Beggar's cart!" he thought to himself and he ran out to the road to see whether the Beggar were still in sight. But he and the cart had disappeared.

"I hope he has no accident on account of those bolts!" the Poor Man said.

When he went to the stable to get his donkey he found four golden horse-shoes where the Beggar's horse had been standing.

"Four golden horse-shoes!" he exclaimed. "I ought to return them and the silver bolts at once! But I can't to-day, I'm too busy. Well, I'll hide them safely away and some afternoon when I have a few hours to spare I'll follow the tracks of the cart to the Beggar's house."

That afternoon he met his two rich brothers and told them about the Beggar.

"Silver bolts!" cried one.

"Golden horse-shoes!" cried the other. "Take us home with you and let us see them!"

So they went home with the Poor Man and saw for themselves the silver bolts and the golden horse-shoes.

"Brothers," the Poor Man said, "if either of you have time I wish you'd take these things and return them to the Beggar."

They both said, no, no, they hadn't time, but they would like to know where the Beggar lived.

"He said I could always find him," the Poor Man said, "by following the tracks of his cart."

"The tracks of his cart!" echoed the other two. "Show us the tracks of his cart!"

They went to the shed where the cart had been and followed the tracks out to the road. Even on the road they were easy to see for besides being wider than any other cart tracks they shone white like glistening silver.

"H'm! H'm!" murmured the two rich brothers.

"You don't think either of you have time to follow them to the Beggar's house?" the Poor Man said.

"No! Of course not! Of course not!" they both answered.

But in his heart each had already decided to go at once and see for himself what kind of a Beggar this was who had silver bolts in his cart and golden shoes on his horse.

The oldest brother went the very next day driving a new wagon and a fine horse. The silver tracks led through woods and fields and over hills. They came at last to a river which was spanned by a wooden bridge. It was cunningly constructed of timbers beautifully hewn. The rich man had never seen such wood used on a bridge.

By the roadside beyond the bridge there was a pigsty with one trough full of corn and another full of water. There were two sows in the sty and they were fighting each other and tearing at each other and paying no attention whatever to all the good food in the trough.

A little farther on there was another river and over it another wonderful bridge, this one made entirely of stone.

Beyond it the rich man came to a meadow where there was a hayrick around which two angry bulls were chasing each other and goring each other until the blood spurted.

"I wonder some one doesn't stop them!" the rich man thought to himself.

The next river had an iron bridge, more beautiful than the rich man had ever supposed an iron bridge could be.

Beyond the iron bridge there was a field and a bush and two angry rams that were chasing each other around the bush and fighting. Their horns cracked as they met and their hides were torn and bleeding where they had gored each other.

"I never saw so many angry fighting animals!" the rich man thought to himself.

The next bridge glowed in the sun like the embers of a fire for it was built entirely of shining copper—copper rivets, copper plates, copper beams, nothing but copper.

The silver tracks led over the copper bridge into a broad valley. By the roadside there was a high crossbar from which depended heavy cuts of meat—lamb and pork and veal. Two large bitch dogs were jumping at the meat and then snarling and snapping at each other.

The next bridge was the loveliest of them all for it was built of white gleaming silver.

The rich man climbed down from his wagon and examined it closely.

"It would be worth a man's while to carry home a piece of this bridge!" he muttered to himself.

He tried the rivets, he shook the railing. At last he found four loose bolts which he was able to pull out. The four together were so heavy that he was scarcely able to lift them. He looked cautiously about and when he saw that no one was looking, he slipped them one by one into the bottom of his wagon and covered them with straw. Then he turned his horse's head and drove home as fast as he could. It was midnight when he got there and nobody about to spy on him as he hid the silver bolts in the hay.

The next day when he went out alone to gloat over his treasure he found instead of four heavy silver bolts four pieces of wood!

So that's what the rich brother got for following the silver tracks.

A day or two later without saying a word to any one, the second brother decided that he would follow the silver tracks and have a look at the strange Beggar whose cart had silver bolts and whose wheezy horse had golden shoes.

"Perhaps if I keep my wits about me I'll be able to pick up a few golden horse-shoes. Not many boys inherit golden horse-shoes from their fathers!"



Well, the second brother went over exactly the same route and saw exactly the same things. He crossed all those wonderful bridges that his brother had crossed—the wooden bridge, the stone bridge, the iron bridge, the copper bridge, the silver bridge, and he saw all those angry animals still trying to gore each other to death.

He didn't stop at the silver bridge for he thought to himself:

"Perhaps the next bridge will be golden and if it is I may be able to break off a piece of it!"

Beyond the silver bridge was another broad valley and the second brother saw many strange sights as he drove through. There was a man standing alone in a field and trying to beat off a flock of ravens that were swooping down and pecking at his eyes. Near him was an old man with snow-white hair who was making loud outcries to heaven praying to be delivered from the two oxen who were munching at his white hair as though it were so much hay. They ate great wisps of it and the more they ate the more grew out.

There was an apple-tree heavily laden with ripe fruit and a hungry man forever reaching up and plucking an apple. The apples were apples of Sodom and always as the hungry man raised each new one to his mouth it turned to ashes.

In another place a thirsty man was reaching with a dipper into a well and always, just as he was about to scoop up some water, the well moved away from under the dipper.

"What a strange country this is!" thought the second brother as he drove on.

At last he reached the next bridge and sure enough it was shining gold! Every part of it—bolts and beams and pillars, all were gold. In great excitement the second brother climbed down from his wagon and began pulling and wrenching at various parts of the bridge hoping to find some loose pieces which he could break off. At last he succeeded in pulling out four long bolts which were so heavy he could scarcely lift them. After looking about in all directions to make sure that no one saw him, he put them into his wagon and covered them up with straw. Then he drove homewards as fast as he could.

"Ha! Ha!" he chuckled as he hid the golden bolts in the barn. "My son will now be a richer man than my brother!"

He could scarcely sleep with thinking of his golden treasure and at the first light of morning he slipped out to the barn. Imagine his rage when he found in the straw four bolts of wood!

So that was all the second brother got for following the silver tracks.

Well, years went by and the Poor Man worked day after day and all day and often far into the night. Some of his children died and the rest grew up and went out into the world and married and made homes of their own. Then at last his good wife died and the time came when the Poor Man was old and all alone in the world.

One night as he sat on his doorstep thinking of his wife and of his children when they were little and of all the years he had worked for them to keep them fed and clothed, he happened to remember the Beggar and the promise he had made to visit him sometime.

"And to think of all the years I've kept his golden horse-shoes and his silver bolts! Well, he'll forgive me, I know," thought the Poor Man, "for he'll understand that I've always been too busy up to this time ever to follow the tracks of his cart. I wonder are they still there."

He went out to the roadside and peered down and how it happened I don't know, but to his dim eyes at least there were the silver tracks as clear as ever.

"Good!" cried the Poor Man. "To-morrow morning bright and early I'll hitch up the donkey and visit my old friend, the Beggar!"

So the next day he took out the silver bolts and the golden horse-shoes from the place where he had kept them hidden all these years and he put them in a bag. Then he hitched his old donkey to his old cart and started out to follow the silver tracks to the Beggar's home.

Well, he saw just exactly the same things that his brothers had seen those many years before: all those terrible fighting animals and all those unfortunate men.

"I'll have to remember and ask the Beggar what ails all these creatures," he thought to himself.

Like his brothers he passed over the wooden bridge and the stone bridge and the iron bridge and the copper bridge and the silver bridge and even the golden bridge. Beyond the golden bridge he came to a Garden that was surrounded by a high wall of diamonds and rubies and sapphires and all kinds of precious stones that blazed as brightly as the sun itself. The silver tracks turned in at the garden gate which was locked.

The poor man climbed down from his cart, unhitched the donkey, and set him out to graze on the tender grass that grew by the wayside.

Then he took the bag that held the golden horse-shoes and the silver bolts and he went to the garden gate. It was a very wonderful gate of beaten gold set with precious stones. For a moment the Poor Man wondered if he dare knock at so rich a gate, then he remembered that his friend the Beggar was inside and he knew that he would be made welcome.

It was the Beggar himself who opened the gate. When he saw the Poor Man he smiled and held out his hands and said:

"Welcome, dear friend! I have been waiting for you all these years! Come in and I will show you my Garden."

So the Poor Man went inside. And first of all he gave the Beggar his golden horse-shoes and his silver bolts.

"Forgive me," he said, "for keeping them so long, but I've never had time until now to return them."

The Beggar smiled.

"I knew, dear friend, that they were safe with you and that you would bring them some day."

Then the Beggar put his arm over the Poor Man's shoulder and led him through the Garden showing him the wonderful golden fruits and beautiful flowers. They sat them down beside a fountain of crystal water and while they listened to the songs of glorious birds they talked together and the Poor Man asked about the strange things he had seen along the road.

"All those animals," the Beggar said, "were once human beings who instead of fearing God and being kind to their fellowmen passed all their time fighting and cheating and cursing. The two sows were two sisters-in-law who hated each other bitterly. The two bulls and the two rams were neighbors who fought for years and years over the boundary lines of their farms and now they keep on fighting through eternity. The two bitches were two sisters who fought until they died over the inheritance left them by their father. The old man whose hair the oxen eat was a farmer who always pastured his cattle on his neighbors' fields. Now he has his reward. The man at whose eyes the ravens peck was an ungrateful son who mistreated his parents. The man with the awful thirst that can never be quenched was a drunkard, and the one at whose lips the apples turn to ashes was a glutton."

So they talked on together, the Poor Man and the Beggar, until it was late afternoon and the Beggar said:

"And now, dear friend, you will sup with me as I once supped with you."

"Thank you," the Poor Man said, "I will. But let me first go out and see how my donkey is."

"Very well," the Beggar said, "go. But be sure to come back for I shall be waiting for you."

So the Poor Man went out the garden gate and looked for his donkey. But the donkey was gone.

"He must have started home," the Poor Man thought. "I'll hurry and overtake him."

So he started back afoot the way he had come. He went on and on but saw no donkey. He crossed the golden bridge and the silver bridge and the copper bridge and the iron bridge and the stone bridge and last of all the wooden bridge, but still there was no donkey.

"He must have got all the way home," he thought.

When the Poor Man reached his native village things looked different. Houses that he remembered had disappeared and others had taken their places. He couldn't find his own little house at all. He asked the people he met and they knew nothing about it. And they knew nothing about him, either, not even his name. And nobody even knew about his sons. At last he did meet one old man who remembered the family name and who told him that many years before the last of the sons had gone to another village to live.

"There's no place here for me," the Poor Man thought. "I better go back to my friend the Beggar and stay with him. No one else wants me."

So once again he followed the silver tracks all that long way over all those bridges and when at last he reached the garden gate he was very tired, for he was old and feeble now. It was all he could do to give one faint little knock. But the Beggar heard him and came running to let him in. And when he saw him, how tired he was and how feeble, he put his arm around him and helped him into the Garden and he said:

"You shall stay with me now forever and we shall be very happy together."

And the Poor Man when he looked in the Beggar's face to thank him saw that he was not a beggar at all but the Blessed Christ Himself. And then he knew that he was in the Garden of Paradise.



THE END



STORIES TO TELL

IT'S PERFECTLY TRUE AND OTHER STORIES. By Hans Christian Andersen. Twenty-eight stories translated from the Danish by Paul Leyssac.

13 DANISH TALES. By Mary C. Hatch. A baker's dozen of robust, humorous folk tales.

MORE DANISH TALES. By Mary C. Hatch. Fifteen rollicking folk tales retold from Sven Grundtvig's Folkaeventyr.

A BAKER'S DOZEN. Selected by Mary Gould Davis. Thirteen stories which are especially successful in storytelling.

THE TREASURE OF LI-PO. By Alice Ritchie. Six original fairy tales set in China and told with beauty and distinction.

THE SHEPHERD'S NOSEGAY: Stories from Finland and Czechoslovakia. By Parker Fillmore. Children and storytellers alike will welcome these rich and robust folk tales, long unavailable.

ROOTABAGA STORIES. By Carl Sandburg. An omnibus volume including all the stories originally published in the two books Rootabaga Stories and Rootabaga Pigeons.

THE TIGER'S WHISKER: And Other Tales and Legends from Asia and the Pacific. By Harold Courlander. Thirty-one Far Eastern folk tales, full of sly humor, adventure, and virtue rewarded.

THE HAT-SHAKING DANCE and Other Tales from the Gold Coast. By Harold Courlander and Albert Kofi Prempeh. A handsome collection of twenty-one wise and humorous Ashanti folk tales.

HARCOURT, BRACE & WORLD, INC. 757 Third Avenue, New York 17, N. Y.



The Magic Listening Cap

More Folk Tales from Japan

BY YOSHIKO UCHIDA

Wisdom and humor abound in the fourteen folk tales of this second collection by the author of The Dancing Kettle. Once more Miss Uchida has dipped into the wealth of Japanese folklore to retell delightful stories that American children have seldom heard.

"The Wrestling Match of the Two Buddhas," "The Man Who Bought a Dream," "The Golden Axe," and others are a fascinating combination of the strange and the familiar. A different land, a different people, a different kind of magic all come to life in these colorful, imaginative tales. And yet running through them are such universal folk themes as the inevitable downfall of the greedy and the foolish. In all of these adventures there is a keen sense of the Japanese countryside with its mountains and sea, rice fields, deep green forests, and delicate gardens.

Retold with freshness and simplicity, these ancient tales are not only fun to read but also welcome new material for storytelling.

Illustrated by the author

Honor Book in the 1955 N. Y. Herald Tribune Children's Spring Book Festival

60-100

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

Please hover your mouse over the words with a thin dotted gray line underneath them for seeing what the original reads. The text in the solid black box is the text from the dust cover flaps.

LIST OF FIXED ISSUES

p. 023—removed a duplicate period after 'frozen over' p. 094—typo fixed: changed 'to to' into 'to' p. 096—inserted a missing 'is' between 'It' and 'like a fox's tail!' p. 131—typo fixed: changed 'hankerchief' into 'handkerchief' p. 214—typo fixed: changed 'tomorrrow's' into 'tomorrow's'. p. 225—removed a duplicate 'and' in front of 'searched here' p. 238—typo fixed: changed 'winepresses' into 'wine-presses' p. 281—typo fixed: changed 'horseshoes' into 'horse-shoes'

THE END