Daryl Lorette

How an Ungrateful Son Planned to Murder His Old Father

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, there was in a family of a certain village of Kasi an only son named Vasitthaka. This man supported his parents, and after his mother's death, he supported his father as has been described in the introduction. But there is this difference. When the woman [Vasitthaka's wife] said, "Look there! That is your father's doing! I am constantly begging him not to do this and that, and he only gets angry!" she went on, "My lord, your father is fierce and violent, forever picking quarrels. A decrepit old man like that, tormented with disease, is bound to die soon; and I can't live in the same house with him. He will die of himself before many days are out. Well, take him to a cemetery, and dig a pit, throw him in, and break his head with the spade; and when he is dead, shovel the earth upon him, and leave him there."

At last, by dint of this dinning in his ears, said he, "Wife, to kill a man is a serious matter. How can I do it?"

"I will tell you of a way," quoth she.

"Say on, then."

"Well, my lord, at break of day, go to the place where your father sleeps. Tell him very loud, that all may hear, that a debtor of his is in a certain village, that you went and he would not pay you, and that if he dies the man will never pay at all. And say that you will both drive there together in the morning. Then at the appointed time get up, and put the animals to the cart, and take him in it to the cemetery. When you get there, bury him in a pit, make a noise as if you had been robbed, wound and wash your head, and return."

"Yes, that plan will do," said Vasitthaka. He agreed to her proposal, and got the cart ready for the journey.

Now the man had a son, a lad of seven years, but wise and clever. The lad overheard what his mother said. "My mother," thought he, "is a wicked woman, and is trying to persuade father to murder his father. I will prevent my father from doing this murder." He ran quickly, and lay down beside his grandsire.

Vasitthaka, at the time suggested by the wife, prepared the cart. "Come, father, let us get that debt!" said he, and placed his father in the cart.

But the boy got in first of all. Vasitthaka could not prevent him, so he took him to the cemetery with them. Then, placing his father and his son together in a place apart, with the cart, he got down, took spade and basket, and in a spot where he was hidden from them began to dig a square hole. The boy got down and followed him, and as though ignorant what was afoot, opened a conversation by repeating the first stanza:

No bulbs are here, no herbs for cooking meat,
No cat-mint, nor no other plant to eat.
Than father, why this pit, if need be none,
Delve in Death's acre mid the woods alone?

This his father answered by repeating the second stanza:

Thy grandsire, son, is very weak and old,
Oppressed by pain from ailments manifold.
Him will I bury in a pit today.
In such a life I could not wish him stay.

Hearing this, the boy answered by repeating a half stanza:

Thou has done sinfully in wishing this,
And for the deed, a cruel deed it is.

With these words, he caught the spade from his father's hands, and at no great distance began to dig another pit. His father approaching asked why he dug that pit, to whom he made reply by finishing the third stanza:

I too, when thou art aged, father mine,
Will treat my father as thou treatest thine;
Following the custom of the family
Deep in a pit I too will bury thee.

To this the father replied by repeating the fourth stanza:

What a harsh saying for a boy to say,
And to upbraid a father in this way!
To think that my own son would rail at me,
And to his truest friend unkind should be!

When the father had thus spoken, the wise lad recited three stanzas, one by way of answer, and two as an holy hymn:

I am not harsh, my father, nor unkind,
Nay, I regard thee with a friendly mind.
But this thou dost, this act of sin, thy son
Will have no strength to undo again, once done.

Whoso, Vasittha, hurts with ill intent
His mother or his father, innocent,
He, when the body is dissolved, shall be
In hell for his next life undoubtedly.

Whoso with meat and drink, Vasittha, shall
His mother or his father feed withal,
He, when the body is dissolved, shall be
In heaven for his next life undoubtedly.

The father, after hearing his son thus discourse, repeated the eighth stanza:

Thou art no heartless ingrate, son, I see,
But kindly hearted, O my son to me.
'Twas in obedience to thy mother's word
I thought to do this horrid deed abhorred.

Said the lad, when he heard this, "Father, women, when a wrong is done and they are not rebuked, again and again commit sin. You must bend my mother, that she may never again do such a deed as this." And he repeated the ninth stanza:

That wife of yours, that ill-conditioned dame,
My mother, she that brought me forth, that same,
Let us from out our dwelling far expel,
Lest she work other woe on thee as well.

Hearing the words of his wise son, well pleased was Vasitthaka, and saying, "Let us go, my son!" he seated himself in the cart with son and father.

Now the woman too, this sinner, was happy at heart; for, thought she, this ill-luck is out of the house now. She plastered the place with wet cow dung, and cooked a mess of rice porridge. But as she sat watching the road by which they would return, she espied them coming, "There he is, back with old ill-luck again!" thought she, much in anger. "Fie, good-for-nothing! cried she. "What, bring back the ill-luck you took away with you!"

Vasitthaka said not a word, but unyoked the cart. Then said he, "Wretch, what is that you say?" He gave her a sound drubbing, and bundled her head over heels out of doors, bidding her never darken his door again. Then he bathed his father and his son, and took a bath himself, and the three of them ate the rice porridge. The sinful woman dwelt for a few days in another house.

Then the son said to his father, "Father, for all this, my mother does not understand. Now let us try to vex her. You give out that in such and such a village lives a niece of yours, who will attend upon your father and your son and you. So you will go and fetch her. Then take flowers and perfumes, and get into your cart, and ride about the country all day, returning in the evening."

And so he did. The women in the neighbor's family told his wife this. "Have you heard," said they, "that your husband has gone to get another wife in such a place?"

"Ah, then I am undone!" quoth she, "and there is no place for me left."

But she would inquire of her son. So quickly she came to him, and fell at his feet, crying, "Save thee, I have no other refuge! Henceforward I will tend your father and grandsire as I would tend a beauteous shrine! Give me entrance into this house once more!"

"Yes, mother," replied the lad, "if you do no more as you did, I will. Be of good cheer!" And at his father's coming he repeated the tenth stanza:

That wife of yours, that ill-conditioned dame,
My mother, she that brought me forth, that same,
Like a tamed elephant, in full control,
Let her return again, that sinful soul.

So said he to his father, and then went and summoned his mother. She, being reconciled to her husband and her husband's father, was thenceforward tamed, and endued with righteousness, and watched over her husband and his father and her son. And these two, steadfastly following their son's advice, gave alms and did good deeds, and became destined to join the hosts of heaven.

---

• The Jataka; or, Stories of the Buddha's Former Births, edited by E. B. Cowell, v. 4, translated by W. H. D. Rouse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1901), no. 446, pp. 27-31.

• The introduction and conclusion to this tale, not given here, make it clear that the wise boy featured in the story was the future Buddha in one of his many reincarnations.

• Aarne-Thompson type 980.

The Golden Mallard

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a Brahmin, and growing up was married to a bride of his own rank, who bore him three daughters named Nanda, Nanda-vati, and Sundari-nanda. The Bodhisatta dying, they were taken in by neighbors and friends, whilst he was born again into the world as a golden mallard endowed with consciousness of its former existences.

Growing up, the bird viewed its own magnificent size and golden plumage, and remembered that previously it had been a human being. Discovering that his wife and daughters were living on the charity of others, the mallard bethought him of his plumage like hammered and beaten gold and how by giving them a golden feather at a time he could enable his wife and daughters to live in comfort. So away he flew to where they dwelt and alighted on the top of the central beam of the roof. Seeing the Bodhisatta, the wife and girls asked where he had come from; and he told them that he was their father who had died and been born a golden mallard, and that he had come to visit them and put an end to their miserable necessity of working for hire.

"You shall have my feathers," said he, "one by one, and they will sell for enough to keep you all in ease and comfort."

So saying, he gave them one of his feathers and departed. And from time to time he returned to give them another feather, and with the proceeds of their sale these Brahmin women grew prosperous and quite well to do.

But one day the mother said to her daughters, "There's no trusting animals, my children. Who's to say your father might not go away one of these days and never come back again? Let us use our time and pluck him clean next time he comes, so as to make sure of all his feathers."

Thinking this would pain him, the daughters refused.

The mother in her greed called the golden mallard to her one day when he came, and then took him with both hands and plucked him.

Now the Bodhisatta's feathers had this property that if they were plucked out against his wish, they ceased to be golden and became like a crane's feathers. And now the poor bird, though he stretched his wings, could not fly, and the woman flung him into a barrel and gave him food there. As time went on his feathers grew again (though they were plain white ones now), and he flew away to his own abode and never came back again.

---

Source: The Jataka; or, Stories of the Buddha's Former Births, (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1895), no. 136, vol. 1, pp. 293-294. Translated from the Pali by Robert Chalmers.

Danzayémon, Chief of the Etas

At Asakusa, in Yedo, there lives a man called Danzayémon, the chief of the Etas. This man traces his pedigree back to Minamoto no Yoritomo, who founded the Shogunate in the year 1192 A.D. The whole of the Etas in Japan are under his jurisdiction; his subordinates are called Koyagashira, or "chiefs of the huts"; and they constitute the government of the Etas. In the "Legacy of Iyéyasu," the 36th Law provides as follows:

All wandering mendicants, such as male sorcerers, female diviners, hermits, blind people, beggars, and tanners (Etas), have had from of old their respective rulers. Be not disinclined, however, to punish any such who give rise to disputes, or who overstep the boundaries of their own classes and are disobedient to existing laws.

The occupation of the Etas is to kill and flay horses, oxen, and other beasts, to stretch drums and make shoes; and if they are very poor, they wander from house to house, working as cobblers, mending old shoes and leather, and so earn a scanty livelihood. Besides this, their daughters and young married women gain a trifle as wandering minstrels, called Torioi, playing on the shamisen, a sort of banjo, and singing ballads. They never marry out of their own fraternity, but remain apart, a despised and shunned race.

At execution by crucifixion it is the duty of the Etas to transfix the victims with spears; and, besides this, they have to perform all sorts of degrading offices about criminals, such as carrying sick prisoners from their cells to the hall of justice, and burying the bodies of those that have been executed. Thus their race is polluted and accursed, and they are hated accordingly.

Now this is how the Etas come to be under the jurisdiction of Danzayémon:

When Minamoto no Yoritomo was yet a child, his father, Minamoto no Yoshitomo, fought with Taira no Kiyomori, and was killed by treachery: so his family was ruined; and Yoshitomo's concubine, whose name was Tokiwa, took her children and fled from the house, to save her own and their lives. But Kiyomori, desiring to destroy the family of Yoshitomo root and branch, ordered his retainers to divide themselves into bands, and seek out the children. At last they were found; but Tokiwa was so exceedingly beautiful that Kiyomori was inflamed with love for her, and desired her to become his own concubine. Then Tokiwa told Kiyomori that if he would spare her little ones she would share his couch; but that if he killed her children she would destroy herself rather than yield to his desire. When he heard this, Kiyomori, bewildered by the beauty of Tokiwa, spared the lives of her children, but banished them from the capital.

So Yoritomo was sent to Hirugakojima, in the province of Idzu; and when he grew up and became a man, he married the daughter of a peasant. After a while Yoritomo left the province, and went to the wars, leaving his wife pregnant; and in due time she was delivered of a male child, to the delight of her parents, who rejoiced that their daughter should bear seed to a nobleman; but she soon fell sick and died, and the old people took charge of the babe. And when they also died, the care of the child fell to his mother's kinsmen, and he grew up to be a peasant.

Now Kiyomori, the enemy of Yoritomo, had been gathered to his fathers; and Yoritomo had avenged the death of his father by slaying Munémori, the son of Kiyomori; and there was peace throughout the land. And Yoritomo became the chief of all the noble houses in Japan, and first established the government of the country. When Yoritomo had thus raised himself to power, if the son that his peasant wife had born to him had proclaimed himself the sons of the mighty prince, he would have been made lord over a province; but he took no thought of this, and remained a tiller of the earth, forfeiting a glorious inheritance; and his descendants after him lived as peasants in the same village, increasing in prosperity and in good repute among their neighbors.

But the princely line of Yoritomo came to an end in three generations, and the house of Hojo was all-powerful in the land.

Now it happened that the head of the house of Hojo heard that a descendant of Yoritomo was living as a peasant in the land, so he summoned him and said: "It is a hard thing to see the son of an illustrious house live and die a peasant. I will promote you to the rank of Samurai."

Then the peasant answered: "My lord, if I become a Samurai, and the retainer of some noble, I shall not be so happy as when I was my own master. If I may not remain a husbandman, let me be a chief over men, however humble they may be."

But my lord Hojo was angry at this, and thinking to punish the peasant for his insolence, said: "Since you wish to become a chief over men, no matter how humble, there is no means of gratifying your strange wish but by making you chief over the Etas of the whole country. So now see that you rule them well."

When he heard this, the peasant was afraid; but because he had said that he wished to become a chief over men, however humble, he could not choose but become chief of the Etas, he and his children after him for ever; and Danzayémon, who rules the Etas at the present time, and lives at Asakusa, is his lineal descendant.

---

Source: A. B. Mitford, Tales of Old Japan (London: Macmillan, 1871), vol. 1, pp. 242-245.

The Jackal and the Farmer

North Africa (Kabyl)

A farmer plowed with two oxen from morning till eve. One evening a lion came and said, "Give me one of your two oxen or I'll kill you and both of them."

The farmer was terrified. He unspanned one of the oxen and gave it to the lion. The lion took it and carried it away. The farmer went home with the remaining ox and bought another one the same evening so that he would be able to plow again in the morning.

The next day the farmer plowed again from morning till eve, and when it was evening the lion came again and said, "Farmer, give me one of your two oxen or I'll kill both of them and you into the bargain."

Again the farmer gave him an ox. That evening he bought another ox so as to be able to plow again the next day. The next evening the lion came again and demanded still another ox. The farmer gave the lion an ox every evening. One evening the jackal came by as the farmer was driving his single ox home.

The jackal said, "Every morning I see you leave the farmyard with two oxen and every evening I see you coming back with only one. How does that happen?"

The farmer answered, "Every evening when I am finished with the day's work the lion comes and demands one of my oxen and threatens to kill me and both oxen if I do not comply with his wish."

The jackal said, "If you promise to give me a sheep I will free you from the lion."

The farmer answered, "If you can free me from the lion I will gladly promise you a sheep."

The jackal said, "Tomorrow I will call out in a disguised voice from up there on the hill and ask who is speaking with you. Then answer that it is only an Asko (a block of wood to be split). Have a hatchet ready. Have you understood me?"

The farmer said, "Certainly, I have understood you."

The next day the farmer took a hatchet with him to the field and plowed as usual with the two oxen from morning till eve.

When it was evening the lion came and said, "Farmer, give me an ox or I shall kill both oxen and you as well."

When the lion had said that a deep voice spoke from the hill and said, "Farmer, who speaks with you?"

The lion was afraid, ducked down, and said in a frightened voice, "That is god."

But the farmer replied loudly, "It is only an Asko."

The voice answered loudly, "Then take your hatchet and split the block of wood."

The lion said softly, "But give me only a gentle blow, farmer."

Thereat he bowed his head. The farmer gripped his hatchet and struck at the lion's lowered skull with all his force so that he split it and the lion died.

The jackal came down from the hill and said, "I have done what I promised. The lion is done away with. Tomorrow I will come again and get the sheep which you have promised me."

The farmer said, "You shall have it."

The farmer came home. He said to his wife, "The jackal has freed me from the lion. Now I will give him a ram. I will kill it. Then you pack it up so that I can take it with me to the field tomorrow."

The man killed the ram. As his wife was about to pack it up she said, "Why shouldn't we eat the good ram ourselves?" She put the ram into a leather sack. She laid the leather sack in a wicker basket. But she told the house dog to lie down in the basket beside the leather sack. She said to the farmer, "If, perchance, the jackal does not take the ram in the course of the day, then bring it home again. Otherwise the other animals which have not helped you will eat it during the night. Set down the basket in the field just as it is and then let happen what will."

The farmer went to the field. He put the basket down on the field and cried, "Jackal here is your ram."

Then he went to his work without bothering himself further about the basket, the ram, or the jackal. The jackal, however, came to the basket in order to take out the ram. As he stuck his nose into the basket, up sprang the dog. The jackal ran away from there as quickly as he could. The dog ran after him for a while but when he saw that the jackal was really too fast he gave up and went home. The jackal swore never to help men again.

In the evening the farmer came. He looked into the basket and found the ram still untouched. So he picked up the basket again with the ram in it, brought it home, and said, "The jackal has not called for his ram. Now we can eat it ourselves!"

---

• Source: Leo Frobenius and Douglas C. Fox, African Genesis: Folk Tales and Myths of Africa (New York: Dover, 1999), pp. 89-91. The Dover edition is an unaltered republication of the work originally published by Stackpole Sons, New York, in 1937, under the title African Genesis.

• The Kabyl people belong to the Berbers of North Africa. They are native to the Djurdjura Mountains of Algeria.

Ingratitude Is the World's Reward

Moravia

A peasant in his field once heard a voice calling, "Help me! Help me!" He looked around but saw no one. Finally he discovered that the voice was coming from below, from beneath a large stone. Rolling it onto its side he saw a hole where there was a large snake. It slithered out and was about to tear the peasant to pieces.

"What!" said the peasant. "My reward for having freed you from your prison is be torn to pieces?"

"Didn't you know," replied the snake, "that ingratitude is the world's reward?"

"I do not believe that," said the peasant. "Come, let us go together to a judge who will decide if you have the right to tear me to pieces."

So the went to seek a judge. After going a little way they came to a tree onto which was tied an old horse.

"What are you doing there?" the peasant asked the horse. "Who tied you here?"

"Oh," it said, "my master has gone to fetch a knacker who is to kill me, for I am too old and week to pull the plow and other loads. When I was young and strong, my master had only praise for me, but now he has no use for me, and thus I will have to die."

"You see, peasant," said the snake, "there you have proof that ingratitude is the world's reward. Now I am going to tear you to pieces."

"No," said the peasant. "Let us go to another judge."

So they went further. A dog came ran up to them and sought the peasant's protection against his master, who was about to shoot him. He had now grown unable to watch over the house, and he told the peasant that his master had held him dearly when he was young and could watch over the house and the yard, but now that he was old and weak, he had acquired another dog and wanted to shoot him.

"There you have the second proof that ingratitude is the world's reward," said the snake. "You must admit that I have the right to tear you apart."

But the peasant did not want to admit this, and while they were arguing about it, a fox came their way and asked why they were quarreling.

"Wait," thought the peasant. "The fox is very sly. He could be our judge."

He explained the case to him, who then took the peasant aside and said to him, "If you will promise me two roosters then I'll free you from the snake."

"They will be yours," said the peasant.

"Now," said the fox, "if I am to be your judge then I must see the hole where the snake was caught. I cannot make a judgment until I have seen it."

So they turned around and went back to the hole. Upon seeing it, the fox said, "What? Such a large snake was caught in this small hole? I do not believe it. It is entirely impossible! First you must convince me that there is room for you there. Snake, crawl inside and show me that you really were caught there."

The snake crawled inside, and he had scarcely done so when then fox quickly rolled the stone back in place, capturing him again, however much he cried out "Help me!"

The peasant was very happy and told the fox to come that evening to fetch the roosters. He would leave the back gate to his yard open so he could get in.

The fox came that evening when everyone was eating supper. He found the back gate open and crept inside. But when he neared the chicken coop, the chickens saw him and cried out. The peasant's wife heard the noise, went to see what was wrong, and discovered the fox.

"Wait," she said, "I'll light the way home for you." She ran into the kitchen, picked up a burning piece of wood, ran back to the chicken coop, and hit the fox so long with it until his pelt was all burned up. Crying out, he ran away. When he was halfway out he shouted "Ingratitude is still the world's reward."

---

• Source: Marie Kosch, Deutsche Volksmärchen aus Mähren (Kremsier: Heinrich Gusek, 1899), pp. 107-109.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 1999.

• Moravia is in today's Czech Republic.

The Jackal's Judgment

Sri Lanka

A crocodile made his burrow in the embankment of a tank near a village. Afterwards the mud dried and became hard, so the crocodile was unable to get out of the hole. He was going to die.

A man passed by on his was to fetch a midwife to attend to his wife. The crocodile heard him and said, "Save me by breaking up the earth, so that I may get out." The man broke up the earth and let him out.

As there was no water left in the tank, the man placed the crocodile on his shoulder and went to the edge of the river. He then placed the crocodile into the water, but no sooner had he done so than the crocodile seized him by the arm and was about to eat him.

"Why are you going to eat me?" he asked. "Do you not know how I helped you? And still you are going to eat me!"

The crocodile said, "It is true, indeed, that you helped me. But I am going to eat you, because I am hungry."

The man said, "It is good. You may eat me, but first let as ask two or three persons as witnesses." So they went to ask the witnesses about it.

They came to a kumbuk tree, and the man said to it, "This crocodile is going to eat me. I am asking your opinion of it."

"What is it all about?"

The man said, "This crocodile was going to die. I saved him. Now he is going to eat me. Is that right?"

The kumbuk tree said, "O crocodile, do not let that man go. There is no animal so wicked as that man. He stays near a tree in its shade, then he breaks off its bark and leaves and takes them away. In the end he cuts it down and takes the whole tree."

From there he went and asked a cow, "O cow, I saved this crocodile from death. He is now going to eat me. Do you think that is right?"

The cow said, "O crocodile, do not let that man go. That man is a wicked man. He takes our milk, and in the end he kills and eats us. Do not let him go."

After that he asked a jackal about it.

The jackal asked, "What is it all about?"

He said to the jackal, "O jackal, I saved this crocodile instead of letting him die. Now he is going to eat me."

The jackal said, "I cannot give you a decision without knowing the whole story. You must show me the whole affair from the beginning."

So the man placed the crocodile on his shoulder and carried him back to his home. He put it back in its burrow and packed the soil in around him.

The jackal said, "Don't be afraid. I am on your side."

Then the man said, "Jackal, hear this case."

The jackal said, "I am both the judge and the witness. Now take up a cudgel and beat him until he is dead. I saw your excellence and his wickedness."

---

• Source: H. Parker, Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon (London: Luzac and Company, 1910), v. 1, no. 63, pp. 339-340.

• Retold by D. L. Ashliman. Parker's translation follows his Sinhalese sources so closely that English syntax is violated in almost every sentence. I have cautiously attempted to bring his narrative closer to idiomatic English.

The Camel Driver and the Adder

Bidpai

A camel driver, crossing the plains, stopped to rest where a caravan had halted and built a fire the night before; in the morning they had moved on before it had died out. As the night wind arose, it fanned the sparks and soon set all the brushwood around on fire. In the midst of the brushwood lay coiled an adder, fast asleep. The flames, however, soon awoke him, but not until he was completely encircled by the fire. He was about to despair of his life, when he saw the camel driver and called upon him for aid. At first the camel driver hesitated, for he remembered the poisonous sting of the adder. Still, he could not bear to see any living creature suffer, so he promised to help the adder. He had a bag beneath his saddle. This he now drew forth and tied to the end of his spear. He then reached it over into the midst of the burning brush; the adder crawled inside, and the camel driver drew him safely out of the fire.

"Now go your way," said the camel driver, loosening the neck of the bag so that the adder could glide out. "Only remember the kindness which I have shown to you, and do you hereafter be kind to men in your turn."

"I confess," replied the adder, slipping out on the ground, "that you have been kind to me, and yet I shall not go away until I have stung both you and your camel. I only leave it to you to decide whether I shall sting you first or the camel."

"What a monster of ingratitude you are!" cried the camel driver. "Is it right to return evil for good?"

Such is the custom of men," said the adder.

"You are not only ungrateful, but untruthful as well," the camel driver made reply. "It would be hard indeed for you to prove these words of yours. There is no other creature in the world, I venture to say, who will agree with you. If you can find out one other, I will allow you to sting me."

"Very well," responded the adder; "let us put the question to yonder cow."

The cow stopped chewing her cud. "If you mean what is man's custom," she began, in answer to their question, "I must answer to my sorrow that he is wont to repay evil for good. For many years I have been the faithful servant of a farmer. Every day I have supplied him with milk to drink and rich cream for his butter. Now I am old and no longer able to serve him. So he has put me out in this pasture that I may grow fat, and only yesterday he brought the butcher to see me. Tomorrow I am to be sold for beef. Surely this is repaying my kindness with evil."

"You see," said the adder to the camel driver, "that what I said is true. Get ready for me to sting you. Shall it be you or the camel first?"

"Hold," replied the camel driver. "In court a decree is not passed without the testimony of two witnesses. Bring another witness, and if he agrees with the cow, you may do with me as you please."

The adder looked about him and saw that they were standing beneath a huge palm tree. "Let us put the question to the tree," he said.

When the palm had heard their question, he shook his great branches sadly. "Experience has taught me," he moaned, "that for every favor you do to men, you must expect some injury in return. I stand here in the desert, doing harm to none and good to many. Every traveler who comes by can rest beneath my shade. I bear dates for his refreshment, and gladly give my sap to quench his thirst. Yet when the traveler has eaten and slept beneath my shade, he looks up into my branches and says to himself, 'That branch would make me a good cane, or handle for my ax,' or 'What splendid wood there is in this tree! I must cut off a limb to make some new doors for my house.' And I must consent to this without a murmur. Thus is my kindness returned by men."

"The two witnesses have now testified," spoke the adder, "and agree. Which shall I bite first, you or the camel?"

But just at that moment a fox ran by, and the camel driver pleaded that they might hear one more testimony. The adder was so pleased with what the cow and the tree had said, that he readily agreed to listen to the fox.

When the camel driver had finished telling the whole tale to the fox, the fox laughed out loud. "You seem to be a clever fellow," he replied to the camel driver. "Why do you tell me such a falsehood?"

"Indeed, he is telling you nothing but the truth," the adder hastened to assure the fox.

Again the fox laughed outright. "Do you mean to tell me," he asked scornfully, "that such a large adder as you could possibly get into such a small bag?"

"If you do not believe it, I will crawl in again and show you," answered the adder.

"Well," responded the fox, thoughtfully, "if I see you in there with my own eyes, then I will consent to give my answer to your question."

The camel driver straightway held the bag open, and the adder crept in and coiled up in the bottom.

"Be quick now," cried the fox, "and draw the string. Any creature so lacking in gratitude as this adder deserves nothing but death."

---

• Source: The Tortoise and the Geese and other Fables of Bidpai, retold by Maude Barrows Dutton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1908), pp. 118-25. Dutton does not identify the text upon which she based her retelling.

• Bidpai, according to tradition, was the compiler of the Indian book of wisdom, the Panchatantra, also spelled Pañca-tantra. This collection of tales and fables was compiled between 100 BC and 500 AD.

The Fox, the Monkey, the Hare, and the Horse

China (a Han story)

The fox is the most wicked animal in the forest, and everyone hates him. He is forever cheating people and playing tricks on everyone. There is not a single animal in the whole neighborhood who has not been fooled by him, but for a long time no one could think of a way to get their revenge.

One day a monkey in the forest seated himself on a tree and thought and thought. He thought so hard that his forehead became a mass of wrinkles. Finally he thought of a plan. Bursting with it, he turned a somersault down to the ground to tell the hare, who lived in a grass-lined form under the tree. He told her his idea, but the hare only blinked in distrust.

"Come on," said the monkey, "I'll show you. I'll go to the fox, and you go to the rise over there and watch."

When the monkey found the fox, they got into a conversation. "Brother Fox!" he said. "Do you know what is the best food in the world?"

The fox pricked up his ears at the idea of food. "What is it?" he said eagerly. "The best food in the world! Now that is a very interesting question! Tell me!"

"I've only learned about it today," answered the monkey. "It is the flesh on the rump of a horse. The only difficulty is to get hold of it, and to do that you must fasten your tail tightly to the horse's tail."

"Why do you have to do that?" said the fox, rather worried.

"You have to, and you have to tie it very tight," answered the monkey. "Otherwise, when the horse starts to run, you can't keep up with him!" The monkey dropped his voice and came closer. "I can tell you, as I was coming along I saw the horse lying down, fast asleep. Now's your chance!"

The fox listened with great interest to what the monkey had to say but showed no emotion. "I'll think about it," he said quietly. "A thing like the best food in the world needs a lot of consideration. We must meet again later and have another chat. For the time being, you'd better not tell anybody about it, don't you think?"

He flourished his long tail and strolled off. The monkey also departed. The fox only went a little way, until he saw the monkey had disappeared, then he quietly returned to look for the horse which the monkey had mentioned.

He did not take long to find the horse, lying on his side fast asleep after his day's work, as the monkey had said. The fox crept over and stealthily tied his tail to the horse's tail. Then he took a good bite at the horse's rump. The horse woke up in a terrible fright. He jumped up, not knowing what was happening and galloped off, never looking round. Of course the fox's grip with his jaw was loosened, and he was dragged along on his back, with his tail still tightly fastened to the horse.

"Oh!" he yelled. "How painful this is!" He was very unhappy, and did not know which part he should try to protect first: his flesh, his skin, or his pretty tail.

The monkey had not gone far. He had just climbed up a tree to watch. He was so amused by the comic scene as the fox was being pulled along by the horse that he clapped his hands and jumped, missed his footing, and fell down smack on his bottom, making it all red. The hare, watching from the rise, laughed so much that she split her lip.

That is why, up to the present, the monkey's bottom is always red; the hare has a split upper lip; the horse is afraid to lie down to sleep and lies down only for a short time when he is very tired; and the fox's back is always marked with spots and blemishes.

---

Source: Folk Tales from China, second series (Peking: Foreign Languages Press, 1958), pp. 82-84. No copyright notice.

The Hedgehog, the Merchant, the King, and the Poor Man

Hungary

Where there was, where there was not, it is enough that there was once a merchant, there were also a king, and a poor man.

One day the merchant went out to hunt, and he traveled and journeyed till, oh! my lord's son, he found himself in such a thick forest that he saw neither the sky nor the earth; he just groped around like a blind man. Here, 'pon my soul! whether the merchant tried to free himself by turning to the left or the right, he only went into a thicker place.

When he was there five days, in hunger and thirst, stumbling about in the great wild wood without liberation, the merchant called out, "Oh, my God, if anyone would take me out of this great wild thicket to the right road, I would give him the best of my three daughters, and as a wedding gift three sacks of coin."

"I'll lead thee out right away," said someone before him.

The merchant looked to the right, to the left, but not a soul did he see.

"Don't look around," said the certain one again. "Look under thy feet."

The merchant then looked in front and saw that near his feet was a little hedgehog, and to him he directed then his word and speech.

"Well, if thou wilt lead me out, I will give thee my best daughter and three sacks of coin; the first will be gold, the second silver, and the third copper."

The hedgehog went on ahead, the merchant walked after. Soon they came out of the great wild wood. Then the hedgehog went back, and the merchant turned his wagon-tongue homeward.

Now the king went to hunt, went in the same way as the merchant; and he too was lost in the great wild wood. The king went to the right and the left, tried in every way to free himself; all he gained was that he came to a thicker and a darker place. He too stumbled around five days in the thick wood, without food or drink.

On the sixth morning the king cried out, "Oh, my God! If any one would free me from this dense wood, even if a worm, I would give him the most beautiful of my daughters, and as a wedding gift three coaches full of coin."

"I'll lead thee out right away," said someone near him. The king looked to the right, to the left, but saw not a soul.

"Why stare around? Look at thy feet; here I am."

The king then looked at his feet and saw a little hedgehog stretched out, and said to him, " Well, hedgehog, if thou wilt lead me forth, I'll give thee the fairest of my daughters and three coaches full of coin: the first gold, the second silver, the third copper."

The hedgehog went ahead, the king followed, and in this way they soon came out of the great wild wood. The hedgehog went back to his own place; the king reached home in safety.

Very well, a poor man went out for dry branches. He went like the merchant and king, and he got astray, so that he wandered dry and hungry for five days in the great wild wood; and whether he turned to the right or the left he gained only this, that he went deeper into the denseness.

"My God," cried the poor man at last, "send me a liberator! If he would lead me out of this place, as I have neither gold nor silver, I would take him as a son, and care for him as my own child."

"Well, my lord father, I'll lead thee out; only follow."

"Where art thou, dear son?"

"Here, under thy feet; only look this way, my lord father."

The poor man looked near his feet, and saw a little hedgehog stretched out.

"Well, my dear son, lead me out and I'll keep my promise."

The hedgehog went ahead, the poor man followed, and soon they came out of the great wild wood. The hedgehog then went back to his own place, and the poor man strolled home. Well, things remained thus till once after bedtime there was a knocking at the poor man's door.

"My lord father, rise up, open the door."

The poor man, who was lying on the stove, heard only that some one was knocking at the door.

"My lord father, rise up, open the door."

The poor man heard, and heard that some one was knocking and as he thought calling out, "My lord father, rise up, open the door." But in his world life he had never had a son. The third time he heard clearly, "My lord father, rise up, open the door."

The poor man did not take this as a joke. He rose up and opened the door. My lord's son, who came in to him? No one else than the little hedgehog.

"God give a good evening to my lord father and to my mother as well," said the hedgehog.

"God receive thee, my dear son. Hast thou come then?"

"I have indeed, as thou seest, my lord father; but I am very tired, therefore wake up my mother and let her make a bed for me in my chamber."

What was the poor man to do? He woke up his wife; she made a towering bed, and the hedgehog lay in it. In the morning the poor man and his wife sat down to breakfast. They did not wish to forget their adopted son, but gave him food on a wooden plate under a bench by the fire. The hedgehog did not touch it.

"Well, my son," asked the poor man, "why not eat?"

"I do not eat, my lord father, because it is not proper to treat an adopted son like some orphan or another; therefore it beseems me not to eat all alone from a wooden plate under a bench at the fire. Seat me nicely at the table by thy side, put a tin plate before me, and place my food on it."

What was the poor man to do? He seated the hedgehog at his side, put a tin plate before him, and measured out food on it; then the hedgehog ate with his father and mother.

When they had finished breakfast the hedgehog spoke thuswise, "Well, my lord father, hast thou a couple of thalers?"

"I have."

"I suppose thou art keeping them to buy salt and wood with?"

"Yes, my son."

"I speak not of that, I am speaking of this: lend me the money; I will return it a thousand-fold. Set not thy mind much on salt and wood now; but go, my lord father, to the market. In such and such a place an old woman has a black cock for sale; buy him of her. If she asks a small price, give her double; for that will be my steed. When thou hast bought the cock for two prices, in such and such a place is a saddler; go to him. In a corner of his shop is a castaway, thrown-away, ragged, torn saddle; buy that for me, but give him two prices also. If he asks little, give him double."

The poor man put on his coat, put the two thalers in his pocket, went to the market, bought the black cock and the cast-away, thrown-away saddle for two prices; each one for two small bits of money. The hedgehog then saddled the black cock with the cast-away, thrown-away saddle, sat upon him, and went to the court of the rich merchant whom he had led out of the great wild wood.

He knocked at the door and called, "Hei, father-in-law, open the gate, let me in!"

The rich merchant opened the gate in great wonder. Who was coming? No one other than our hedgehog, riding on a black cock.

"Hear me, rich merchant," began the hedgehog; "knowest thou thy promise? When I led thee out of the great wild wood, dost remember thy promise to give me the best of thy three daughters and three sacks of coin? Now I have come for the maid and the money."

What could the rich merchant do? He called his three daughters into the white chamber, and turned to the hedgehog, saying, "Well, choose among the three the one who pleases thy eye, thy mouth, and thy heart."

The hedgehog chose the second daughter, for she was the most beautiful of the three. The merchant then measured out three sacks of coin. In the first, as he had said, there was gold, in the second silver, in the third copper; then he put his daughter and the three sacks of coin in a coach, to which four horses were attached, and he sent on her way his most beautiful daughter, with the hedgehog. They traveled and journeyed till the hedgehog, who was riding at the side of the coach on his black cock, came up, looked in through the window, and saw that the bride was in tears.

"Why dost thou cry, why dost thou weep, my heart's beautiful love?" asked the hedgehog of the maiden.

"Why should I not cry, why should I not weep, when God has punished me with such a nasty thing as thee? For I know not whether thou art a man or a beast."

"If this is thy only trouble, my heart's beautiful love, we can easily cure it; I'll keep the three sacks of coin for myself, and thee I'll send back to thy father, for I see that of me thou art not worthy."

Thus was it settled; the hedgehog kept the three sacks of coin, but the merchant's daughter he sent back to her father. The hedgehog then took the coin to the poor man, who became so rich that I think another could not be found like him in seven villages.

Now the hedgehog plucked up courage, saddled his black cock, sat on him, and rode away to the king, stood before him, and spoke in this fashion, "Dost thou remember, king, that when I brought thee out of the great wild wood, thou didst promise that if I would show the right road thou wouldst give me the most beautiful of thy three daughters and fill for me three coaches, the first with gold, the second with silver, and the third with copper coin? I am here so that thou mayest keep thy word."

The king called his three daughters to the white chamber and said, "I made a promise, and this is it: to give one of my three daughters to this hedgehog as wife. I promised because the hedgehog led me out of a great wild wood, in which I wandered for five days without food or drink, and he saved me from certain death. Therefore say, my dear daughters, which of you will agree to marry the hedgehog."

The eldest daughter turned away, the second turned away also; but the youngest and fairest spoke thus, "If thou, my father the king, hast made such a promise, I will marry him. Let the will of God be done if he has appointed such a husband for me."

"Thou art my dearest and best daughter," said the king; and he kissed her again and again.

Then the king measured out three coaches of coin, seated the princess in a chariot of gold and glass and started her on her journey, amid bitter tear-shedding, with the hedgehog, who rode at the side of the chariot on his black cock. They traveled and journeyed across forty-nine kingdoms till the hedgehog rode up to the chariot, opened the window, looked in, and saw that the princess was not weeping, but was in the best cheerful humor.

"Oh, my heart's beautiful love," said the princess, "why art thou riding on that black cock? Better come here and sit at my side on the velvet cushion."

"Thou art not afraid of me?"

"I am not afraid."

"Thou art not disgusted with me? "

"No; if God has given thee to me, then thou shouldst be mine."

"Thou art my only and most beloved wife!" said the hedgehog; and with that he shook himself, and straightway turned into such a pearl-given, charming, twenty-four-years-old king's son that tongue could not tell: golden-haired, golden-mouthed, golden-toothed. And the black cock shook himself three times, and became such a golden-haired magic steed that his equal would have to be sought for; the castaway, thrown-away saddle became golden; everything on it was gold to the last buckle.

The king's son then picked out the most beautiful place in the kingdom; standing in the middle of this he thought once, and suddenly that instant there stood before him a copper-roofed marble palace, turning on a cock's foot, and in it every kind of the most varied and beautiful golden furniture. Everything and everything was of gold, beginning with the mirror frame and ending with the cooking spoon. The king's son conducted the beautiful golden bird -- the fair princess -- into the pearl-given palace, where, like birds in a nest, they lived in quiet harmony.

When the merchant's three daughters and the two elder princesses heard of the happiness of the youngest princess, -- how well she had married, -- in their sorrow one of them jumped into a well, another drowned herself in a hemp-pond, and a third was drawn dead out of the river Tisza (Theiss). In this way four of the maidens came to an evil end; but the second daughter of the merchant gritted her teeth venomously at the princess, and made a firm and merciless resolve that she would embitter her life's happiness.

She went therefore to the palace, and found service in the guise of an old woman. She, the devil-given, came at a critical time; for the Burkus [Prussian] king had declared war against the king's son, and the princess, while her husband was in the field, was left to the care of the merchant's daughter, disguised as an old woman. Milk might as well be confided to a cat as the princess to that cockroach of the underground kingdom.

While the king's son was gone, the Lord gave the princess two beautiful children. The old woman packed them into a basket, put them under a tree in the woods, then ran back to the princess, who, recovering from a faint into which she had fallen, asked the old woman to give her the children so that she might embrace and kiss them.

"High queen," answered the old woman, "what is the use in delay or denial? They were two untimely, hairy monsters, and to save thee from terror at sight of them, I threw both into the river."

The two children slept quietly under the tree till a white deer burst with great noise through the thicket, went straight as if sent, and taking the basket hung it on his antlers; then the white deer disappeared in the forest, went on till he came to the bank of a stream, where he called three times. The Forest Maiden appeared as if by magic, took the basket with great delight, and ran panting into her own palace. The two children were seven years with the Forest Maiden, who reared them as carefully as if they had been her own.

Here, 'pon my soul, what came of the affair, or what did not, the Forest Maiden once sent the little girl with a green jug for water, and enjoined on her rigorously to be careful not to break the jug. The little girl did not let this be said twice; she was obedient and attentive. She took the jug, and was at the well in a moment. When she came, she saw a little golden bird flying around the well. Being a child, she wanted to catch the golden bird, therefore ran around with the jug in her hand till at last she saw that only the handle was left. The little girl, terrified, burst into tears, sat at the edge of the well, and cried there.

The Forest Maiden waited and waited; but she could not wait longer, therefore she sent the little brother with a second jug, and told him sternly to be careful not to break the jug. The little brother went in the same way, for he also, like children of that age, barely saw the golden bird when he wanted to strike it with the jug, which he whirled around till only the handle remained in his hand; then he burst into tears, sat by his sister, and there the two were crying at the edge of the well.

Here, 'pon my soul, the golden bird pitied the children, and asked, "Why do ye cry? Why do ye weep, pretty children?"

"Oh, pretty bird," answered the boy, who had more sense than his sister, "why should we not cry? Why should we not weep? We shall be flogged for breaking the green jugs; our dear mother will whip us."

"Oh, my children, she is not your own mother! She is only your foster mother. Your father and mother live far from here, beyond those green mountains; so if ye will follow, I'll lead you home."

The two children wanted nothing else. They went back no more to their foster mother, for they would be flogged; but they followed the golden bird, which went always before them. And they traveled and journeyed till once in a forest they came upon a great heap of gold; near the gold was a number of dice, as if some one had been playing there. The little boy and girl each took a handful of gold, and went farther. They traveled and journeyed till they came to an inn; since they were wearied, and it was evening, they went in to ask lodging.

In the inn three lords were playing dice; the two children at first merely noticed that they were playing. At last the boy took from his pocket the handful of gold, and began to play in such fashion that he won all the money of the three lords; and then one of them spoke thuswise, "Well, my dear son, I see that thou hast good luck. I have in a certain place a charming flower garden; in the middle of the garden is a marble palace, and the palace has this peculiarity: if it is struck on the side three times with this golden rod, it will turn into a golden apple; and thou mayest put down the marble palace and the flower garden in any part of the world if thou wilt strike the golden apple with the small end of the golden rod. I will bet now this flower garden and this marble palace. If thou canst win, they'll be thine."

The little boy agreed; and he won fortunately the flower garden and the marble palace. The other then gave him the golden rod, and showed him where the garden and the palace were. Next morning the children sought out the garden and the palace, which the boy struck three times on the side, and it turned to a golden apple; he put the apple in his pocket, and strolled on homeward. The little golden bird flew always ahead of them.

They traveled and journeyed till one time the golden bird stopped and said, "Well, dear children, now we are at home; put down the golden apple on this spot and strike it three times with the rod, and ye will see what a beautiful marble palace and flowery garden there will be, speaking to the seven kingdoms. The report of the palace and garden will circulate immediately, and the king himself will come to look at them. Him ye must honor as your father, for thou my little boy art the king's son, and thou my little girl the king's daughter. Dear children, here in a golden frame is a picture which gives your arms and name. Hang in the palace this picture, in the best place; but lest it be seen, cover it with velvet, and show it to no man save your own father. When he asks what that picture is, draw the velvet from it, and the rest will follow."

So it happened; the two children hung up the picture in the best room of the marble palace, and covered it with velvet. Now, the report ran to distant parts of the kingdom that there was a charming and wonderful marble palace in such and such a place, and people hastened from the seventh province distant to look at it; so that the report came to the ears of the king himself.

The king decided straightway to look at the flowery garden and marble palace; but he had hardly conceived the idea when the old woman gave him a drug. The king fell ill, and could not see the flowery garden and marble palace; and then the old woman, without invitation, stood before the king and said, "High king, if thou art so curious to see this flowery garden and marble palace, then I will go and see if they are as beautiful as report says, and tell the story to thy Highness."

The king in one way or another agreed, and the old woman went, not to see the garden, but to bring the two children to evil destruction; the wicked creature tried but succeeded not, for her weapons broke. Not to confound one word with another, I will tell the whole tale in order and accuracy.

The old witch had barely reached the famous flower garden when the two children hurried before her and showed everything from root to top, and the old piece of leather began to talk thus, "It is true that the garden is beautiful, but it would be seven times more beautiful if ye would bring the world-sounding tree."

"What must be done to get that? " asked the little boy.

"Not other than this," answered the old skeleton, "In such and such a place, in an enchanted palace, is the world-sounding tree; but ye must go for it and bring it."

With that the old witch took farewell of the two children, and strolled home; but the boy had no peace from that hour. He wanted to go and bring the world-sounding tree; therefore taking farewell of his sister with bitter tear-shedding he set out for the tree. He was going and traveling across forty-nine kingdoms till he came to a dark castle; this was the first enchanted castle. A big, lame, hairy devil stood there on guard with a fearful whip, so that no man might enter.

The hairy devil shouted very angrily at our boy, "Stop! Who is there?"

"I," answered the little boy.

"Who is I? Art thou Yanoshka? " asked the devil.

"I am."

"What journey art thou on?"

"I am looking for the world-beautifully sounding tree. Hast thou not heard of it, my lord elder brother?"

"I have not heard of it; but in such and such a place my brother stands guard, and if he has not heard of it, then no one in the world has."

Yanoshka went forward on the right road in search of the world-sounding tree. He traveled and journeyed till he came to another enchanted dark castle; there a big, lame, hairy devil was standing on guard who shouted to our Yanoshka in great anger. Our Yanoshka was much braver now, for he knew he had nothing to fear.

"Who is it?" called out the devil.

"I."

"Art thou Yanoshka?"

"I am, at the service of my lord elder brother."

"Why art thou journeying here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?"

"I am looking for the world-beautifully sounding tree. Hast thou not heard of it, my lord elder brother?"

"What is the use in delay or denial? I have not heard; but in such and such a place my eldest brother is on guard, and if he knows nothing of it, then no one in the world knows."

With this Yanoshka moved on towards the third enchanted castle; when he came, there was a big, lame, hairy devil on guard, who called out in great anger to Yanoshka, "Who is that?"

"I."

"Thou art Yanoshka?"

"I am."

"Why art thou journeying here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?"

"I am looking for the world-beautifully sounding tree. Hast thou not heard of it, my lord elder brother?"

"Ho, ho, Yanoshka! of course I have; it is here in the garden of this enchanted palace. Thou mayest take it, but only if thou obey my words. If thou dost not value them or dost not observe them, thou wilt never see God's bright sky or the shining day again. I only want to say this: Here is a golden rod; strike the wall of the enchanted castle with it three times. Straightway a door will open before thee. In the very middle of the garden thou wilt find the world-beautifully sounding tree. Go around it three times and then hurry like a shot arrow, with the speed of a dog, or the stone wall will close, and thou wilt remain inside; and if thou art once shut in, God have mercy and pity on thee, for that instant thou wilt be turned to stone. This is my word and speech; if thou cling to it, thou wilt be lucky; if not, thou wilt be wretched forever."

The boy took the golden rod and struck the side of the enchanted castle with it. That instant the door opened before him. The king's son did not inquire much whether he might enter or not; in a moment he ran in through the door and straight to the garden. Every kind of singing and dancing maidens came to meet him, -- some with citharas and harps; some played on cymbals and begged him to play and dance with them; some offered rich food and drink of every kind agreeable to the taste.

But the king's son had no mind to eat or drink; he pushed aside the maidens and ran to the very center of the garden, where the world-beautifully sounding tree was; then he went around it three times, turning toward the point whence he had come. That done he rushed from the garden, and a thousand times lucky was he. It was not the same for him to be a few minutes later, for the door closed and bit off the heel of his boot; but he did not care much about the heel of his boot. He ran home on the same road over which he had come; and when he arrived, the world-beautifully sounding tree was in the middle of the flowery garden.

Hitherto the flowery garden had been in good fame, but now the fame was seven times greater, so that people came from seven worlds to look at the tree; and the report of it reached the king himself, who determined in his mind if he had not seen it yet he would now at least go to see it.

As soon as the old witch divined his thought she put a powder in his coffee so that he became sick, and was not able to leave the room; then she stood before him without invitation, and said, "High king, as thy Highness is sick, I will go to see if the world- sounding tree is as beautiful as reported, and will soon bring back word."

The king in one way or another agreed to the old witch's proposal, and let her go to see the world-beautifully sounding tree. She had barely put foot in the flowery garden when the two children ran out to her to hear what the old woman would say this time.

"Beautiful children," said she, "beautiful is the garden of itself, beautiful is the sounding tree, but still seven times more beautiful would it be if the world-sweetly speaking bird were to sing upon it."

"What must I do?" asked the little boy.

"Nothing else," answered the old witch, "than this: In such and such a place is an enchanted castle, and thence it would be necessary to bring the world-sweetly speaking bird."

Then she went back; and from that hour the king's son could not remain at home, but planned to go for the world-sweetly speaking bird. Therefore, parting with his sister amidst bitter tear-shedding, he started through the kingdom and the world to bring home the sweetly speaking bird; but he enjoined on his sister that if the third day he were not at home, she should set out to seek him over a certain road, -- and with that the king's son went his way.

He journeyed and traveled across forty-nine kingdoms to the first enchanted castle, where there stood on guard a big hairy devil, who had a terribly large whip in his hand, to kill, without pity or mercy, every man going up or down.

Now, the hairy devil attacked Yanoshka sharply and roughly, thus, "Who art thou?"

"I, my lord elder brother."

"Who art thou?" asked the devil again.

"I."

"Art thou Yanoshka?"

"I am."

"Why art thou here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?"

"I am going for the world-sweetly speaking bird. Hast thou heard of it, my lord elder brother?"

"What is the use in delay or denial? I have not indeed heard. But over there lives my elder brother; if he knows nothing of it, then no one in the world knows."

Now the king's son came to the second enchanted castle; the second devil sent him to his eldest brother, the big lame devil.

When Yanoshka came to the third castle, the devil asked, "Why art thou here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?"

"I am looking for the world-sweetly speaking bird. Hast thou not heard of it, lord elder brother, in thy world-beautiful life?"

"Of course I have; it is here in this enchanted castle. Thou mayest take it away if thou wilt listen to my word; if not, better thou hadst never been born. For if thou wilt not observe my words, thou wilt never see God's bright sun again. I only wish to say: Here is a golden rod; take it, and with it strike the wall of the enchanted castle three times. Straightway the door will open before thee; pass in, run to the end of the glass corridor and across eight chambers. In the ninth chamber is the world-sweetly speaking bird in a rusty cage. Thou wilt find there every kind of beautiful and more beautiful golden birds, but look not at them, listen not to them, take no one of them, but take the sweetly speaking bird sitting sadly in the rusty cage. Snatch the cage in an instant, and rush from the enchanted castle as if thou hadst been shot from a cannon."

The king's son took the golden rod and struck the wall of the enchanted castle with it three times, and in a twinkle the door opened before him. The king's son then asked few questions. Whether it was permitted or not he ran into the room in an instant. While he was running to the end of the glass corridor he was called by name, from the right to the left, to stop. It is true that he was frightened, but he paid no heed. He ran straight to the first chamber. Every kind of flowers, more and more beautiful, were in golden pots; but the king's son did not touch them. He ran to the second chamber. In that were all kinds of swords and guns, but he did not choose from them. He entered the third, fourth, fifth, and in this way till he came to the ninth chamber. The ninth chamber, as the devil had told him, was full of all kinds of golden and silver cages, and in them golden-feathered birds, more and more beautiful, were singing; but the world-sweetly speaking bird was drooping there sadly in a rusty cage, and was not singing.

As the world-sweetly speaking bird was not golden-feathered like the others, it did not please the king's son, and he did not take it, but chose from among the many golden-feathered birds the prettiest, and wished to take that; but as he reached towards it, suddenly, in the twinkle of an eye, he was turned to stone, and the door of the stone wall closed before him.

Now, the little princess every God-given day spread the table for her good brother, but he did not come. Every God-given evening she went out before the house and waited till nearly midnight; then she spread the bed for him, but he did not lie in it. So the first day passed, and the second, and the third, -- day after day, but still the dear brother came not; therefore the princess, crying and weeping, went out to look for her brother.

She journeyed and traveled upon his trail till she came to the first enchanted castle, and the second, and at last the third.

The devil there stood on guard, with a great whip like a chain, so as to strike on the head, without pity or mercy, everyone going up or down; and he shouted angrily at the little girl, " Who art thou? "

"I."

"Thou art Marishka?" For meanwhile, let it be said, this was the name of the king's son's sister.

"I am."

"Why art thou traveling in this strange land, where not even a bird goes?"

"I am looking for my brother. Hast thou not heard of him, lord elder brother?"

"Of course I have heard, -- of course! He is in this enchanted castle, turned into stone; he had to be, for he would not obey me. Thou wilt go that way, too, if thou wilt not hold to my word."

Now the little girl took the golden rod from the devil, who told her what to do with it, and struck the wall of the enchanted castle with it three times. The door opened before her in a twinkle, the princess ran in; but she looked neither to the right nor the left. She ran straight to the ninth chamber; there she took the rusty cage, struck her brother three times on the side with the rod, then ran as if shot from a cannon. And a thousand-fold was her luck that she did not delay an eye-twinkle longer, for the stone-wall door, as it was, cut the edge of her skirt off when it closed. The princess had barely come out of the enchanted castle when she heard behind her frightful thundering, hammering and blowing, swearing and cursing, with threats.

They shouted after her, "Wait, thou! This-and-that-kind-of-wretch, it will soon be bitter for thee!"

But she did not turn to them; she ran like a hunted deer till she reached home. Who was waiting for her there? No one else but her dear brother.

The brother and sister then put up the sweetly speaking bird on the world-beautifully sounding tree, and the sweetly speaking bird spoke, sang more sweetly than any cithara, so that whoever heard it became ten years younger.

If the flowery garden had been famous before, it now stood in seven times greater fame, so that from seven kingdoms the people came to look at it; and the king, hearing of the fair fame of the flowery garden, resolved in his mind that, though he had not gone yet, he would go to see it now. The old witch barely divined this intention of the king when she gave him powders in black coffee, from which the king became so sick that this time, too, his visit to the beautiful garden came to nothing.

And then the old woman, without invitation, stood before him, and said, "High king, thou hast such a great desire to see the flowery garden, I will go at once, and bring back word if its beauty is as great as its fame."

The king agreed, and the old woman went to see the flowery garden. She had barely put foot in it when the two children ran out to meet her, received her very cordially, and did not know where to seat her.

"Beautiful children," began the old sinner, "the marble palace is beautiful, the flowery garden is beautiful, the world-sweetly speaking bird is beautiful; but the flowery garden would be still more beautiful if the silver lake were flowing in it, and in the lake golden fish were playing."

"What must I do to get the lake?" asked the king's son.

"Only this," answered the old skeleton.

"In a certain place, in an enchanted castle, is the world-silver lake, and in it the world-golden fish; it is only necessary to go for the silver lake, for the golden fish will come in it. All that is needed is to bring the lake."

Then the old woman took leave of the pair pleasantly, and went home. But the king's son from that day had no rest, so he took leave of his dear sister, and went out into the world for the silver lake. He traveled and journeyed across forty-nine kingdoms, and the Operentsia Sea, till he came to the first enchanted castle.

A devil was guarding there, who sent him to his elder brother, and he to his eldest.

The king's son arrived at the third enchanted palace. A devil stood guard there, with an enormous knotty club, to hit every man going up or down, without mercy or pity.

"God give thee good evening, my lord elder brother."

"God receive thee, Yanoshka; whither art thou faring in this strange land, where not even a bird goes?"

"I am looking for the world-silver lake. Hast thou not heard of it, lord elder brother?"

"Of course I have heard, -- of course; it is here in this enchanted castle. But, my younger brother, thou wilt have to tie up thy drawers well if 't is thy wish to take that away; for if thou dost not obey my word, I tell thee, on my true soul, that thou wilt reach Pilate by supper-time. I wish to say this: Here is a golden rod; strike the side of the enchanted palace with it, and suddenly the door will open before thee, run in straight to the garden. Thou wilt hear thy name called, but listen not. Every kind of beautiful maiden will come before thee, offering meat and drink; but eat not, neither drink. Thou wilt find on the way every kind of rich thing, -- gold, silver, diamonds, -- but touch nothing. Then every kind of disgusting snake and toad will come out, but be not afraid; run straight to the silver lake, which flows in the garden, run around it three times towards home, and then run out as thou didst go in"

Well, the king's son took the golden rod, struck the side of the enchanted castle three times, and the door opened before him; scarcely had he put foot inside when maidens called him by name. "This way, this way, Yanoshka! Eat, drink, with relish, Yanoshka! This way, Yanoshka, my embracing two arms are open to thee, run no farther!"

The king's son, as if deaf, did not listen, but ran farther. Then maidens more and more beautiful came before him. Some sprang at him, dangled their golden hair in his face; the king's son did not stop, but struck at them rudely, rushing on. He had barely left the maidens when he fell on to piles of treasure thrown in his way: beaten gold was piled high, and milk-white silver coin, -- here every kind of diamond ring, there swords set in diamonds; but the king's son touched nothing, and ran on. Then every kind of crawling, creeping thing swarmed around him, -- here hissing snakes, there warty toads. Yanoshka looked not under his feet, but ran till he came to the silver lake, around which he rushed three times, and went out as he had come. A thousand-fold was his fortune, for had he been an instant later the stone wall would have closed before him; as it was it took the heel off his boot, but he cared nothing for that. He left his boots there and ran home barefoot; when he reached home the silver lake was already flowing through the flowery garden, and in it all kinds of precious golden fish were jumping.

Hitherto the marble palace and the flowery garden with the sounding tree and the sweetly speaking bird had been in fair fame, but now, when the silver lake was flowing through the garden, and golden fish playing in it, now I say their fame spoke to the seven worlds, and people came to look at them. When this reached the ears of the king he resolved that he would neither eat nor drink till he saw the marble palace with all its wonders. Though the old witch offered him black coffee repeatedly, the king did not take it; but sitting in the golden carriage with his wife, he drove to see the flowery garden.

Scarcely had the king and queen entered the flowery garden when the brother and sister ran out before them, panting, and kissed their hands.

"Oh, father, this little girl is like thee!" cried the queen; "She is thy carved second!"

"And the little boy looks like thee," answered the king.

Well, the king and the queen went around the garden in order, and they could not do justice to its beauty; when they saw the sounding tree and the sweetly speaking bird, they clapped their hands. The boy went up in a moment on the sounding tree, plucked from it a couple of golden apples, gave one to the king and the other to the queen, who could not praise sufficiently his kindness. Then the king and queen looked at the silver lake and the golden fish in it; they visited the marble palace, and went from chamber to chamber till they had gone through seven in order.

The king and queen were unable to praise sufficiently the beauty of the rooms; but when they came to the most beautiful of all, the king found this to say, speaking speech, " Well, my little servant, wilt thou not answer a question of mine?"

"And what is it?" asked the prince.

"I should like to know why that picture is covered with velvet, and what it depicts."

One word is not much, but the king's little son did not say that much; speechless he drew the velvet covering aside. The king and queen were amazed, and knew their own children, whom they had never seen before. One embraced one of them, and the other the other; they could not speak, but they wept and laughed, and then the world-sounding tree and the sweetly speaking bird were heard.

Great was the rejoicing of every kind, but sad grew the old sinner when the king seized her, made her fast to a tree, and piled up beneath her a fire of sulfur.

---

Source: Jeremiah Curtin, Myths and Folk-Tales of the Russians, Western Slavs, and Magyars (Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1903), pp. 517-545.

The Little Boy and the Wicked Stepmother

Romania

Once upon a time there was a poor man, who had a wife and two children, a boy and a girl. He was so poor that he possessed nothing in the world but the ashes on his hearth.

His wife died, and after a time he married another woman, who was cantankerous and bad natured, and from morning till evening, as long as the day lasted, she gave the poor man no peace, but snarled and shouted at him.

The woman said to him, "Do away with these children. You cannot even keep me. How then can you keep all these mouths?" for was she not a stepmother?

The poor man stood her nagging for a long time, but then, one night, she quarreled so much that he promised her that he would take the children into the forest and leave them there. The two children were sitting in the corner but held their peace and heard all that was going on.

The next day, the man, taking his ax upon his shoulder, called to the children and said to them, "Come with me into the forest. I am going to cut wood."

The little children went with him, but before they left, the little girl filled her pocket with ashes from the hearth, and as she walked along she dropped little bits of coal the way they went.

After a time they reached a very dense part of the forest, where they could not see their way any longer, and there the man said to the children, "Wait here for a while. I am only going to cut wood yonder. When I have done I will come back and fetch you home." And leaving the children there in the thicket, he went away, heavy hearted, and returned home.

The children waited for a while, and seeing that their father did not return, the girl knew what he had done. So they slept through the night in the forest, and the next morning, taking her brother by the hand, she followed the trace of the ashes which she had left on the road, and thus came home to their own house.

When the stepmother saw them, she did not know what to do with herself. She went almost out of her mind with fury. If she could, she would have swallowed them in a spoonful of water, so furious was she.

The husband, who was a weakling, tried to pacify her, and to endeavor to get the children away by one means or another, but did not succeed.

When the stepmother found that she could not do anything through her husband, she made up her mind that she herself would get rid of them. So one morning, when her husband had gone away, she took the little boy, and without saying anything to anybody, she killed him and gave him to his sister to cut him up, and prepare a meal for all of them. What was she to do? If she was not to be killed like her brother, she had to do what her stepmother told her.

And so she cut him up and cooked him ready for the meal But she took the heart, and hid it away in a hollow of a tree. When the stepmother asked her where the heart was, she said that a dog had come and taken it away.

In the evening, when the husband came home, she brought the broth with the meat for the husband to eat, and she sat down and ate of it, and so did the husband, not knowing that he was eating the flesh of his child. The little girl refused to eat it. She would not touch it. After they had finished, she gathered up all the little bones and hid them in the hollow of the tree where she had put the heart.

The next morning, out of that hollow of the tree there came a little bird with dark feathers, and sitting on the branch of a tree, began to sing, "Cuckoo! My sister has cooked me, and my father has eaten me, but I am now a cuckoo and safe from my stepmother."

When the stepmother, who happened to be near the tree, heard what that little bird was singing, in her fury and fright she took a heavy lump of salt which lay near at hand, and threw it at the cuckoo. But instead of hitting it, the lump fell down on her head and killed her on the spot.

And the little boy has remained a cuckoo to this very day.

---

• Source: "Why Does the Cuckoo Call 'Cuckoo'? The Story of the Little Boy and the Wicked Step-Mother," M. Gaster, Rumanian Bird and Beast Stories (London: Folk-Lore Society, 1915), no. 74, pp. 225-227.

• This story merges a tale of type 327A (Hansel and Gretel) with a tale of type 720 (The Juniper Tree).

• Link to an additional tale of type 720: The Juniper Tree by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm.