Daryl Lorette Cafe

The Rat's Wedding

Northern India

Once upon a time a fat sleek rat was caught in a shower of rain, and being far from shelter he set to work and soon dug a nice hole in the ground, in which he sat as dry as a bone while the raindrops splashed outside, making little puddles on the road.

Now in the course of his digging he came upon a fine bit of root, quite dry and fit for fuel, which he set aside carefully -- for the rat is an economical creature -- in order to take it home with him. So when the shower was over, he set off with the dry root in his mouth. As he went along, daintily picking his way through the puddles, he saw a poor man vainly trying to light a fire, while a little circle of children stood by, and cried piteously.

"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed the rat, who was both soft-hearted and curious, "what a dreadful noise to make! What is the matter?"

"The bairns [children] are hungry," answered the man; "they are crying for their breakfast, but the sticks are damp, the fire won't burn, and so I can't bake the cakes."

"If that is all your trouble, perhaps I can help you," said the good-natured rat; "you are welcome to this dry root, and I'll warrant it will soon make a fine blaze."

The poor man, with a thousand thanks, took the dry root, and in his turn presented the rat with a morsel of dough, as a reward for his kindness and generosity.

"What a remarkably lucky fellow I am!" thought the rat, as he trotted off gaily with his prize, "and clever too! Fancy making a bargain like that: food enough to last me five days in return for a rotten old stick! Wah! wah! wah! What it is to have brains!"

Going along, hugging his good fortune in this way, he came presently to a potter's yard, where the potter, leaving his wheel to spin round by itself, was trying to pacify his three little children, who were screaming and crying as if they would burst.

"My gracious!" cried the rat, stopping his ears, "what a noise! Do tell me what it is all about."

"I suppose they are hungry," replied the potter ruefully. "Their mother has gone to get flour in the bazaar, for there is none in the house. In the meantime I can neither work nor rest because of them."

"Is that all!" answered the officious rat. "Then I can help you. Take this dough, cook it quickly, and stop their mouths with food."

The potter overwhelmed the rat with thanks for his obliging kindness, and choosing out a nice well-burnt pipkin, [an earthen pot], insisted on his accepting it as a remembrance.

The rat was delighted at the exchange, and though the pipkin was just a trifle awkward for him to manage, he succeeded after infinite trouble in balancing it on his head, and went away gingerly, tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, down the road, with his tail over his arm for fear he should trip on it. And all the time he kept saying to himself, "What a lucky fellow I am! and clever too! Such a hand at a bargain!"

By and by he came to where some neatherds [herdsmen] were herding their cattle. One of them was milking a buffalo, and having no pail he used his shoes instead.

"Oh fie! oh fie!" cried the cleanly rat, quite shocked at the sight. "What a nasty dirty trick! Why don't you use a pail?"

"For the best of all reasons: We haven't got one!" growled the neatherd, who did not see why the rat should put his finger in the pie.

"If that is all," replied the dainty rat, "oblige me by using this pipkin, for I cannot bear dirt!"

The neatherd, nothing loath, took the pipkin, and milked away until it was brimming over. Then turning to the rat, who stood looking on, said, "Here, little fellow, you may have a drink, in payment."

But if the rat was good-natured he was also shrewd. "No, no, my friend," said he, "that will not do! As if I could drink the worth of my pipkin at a draught! My dear sir, I couldn't hold it! Besides, I never make a bad bargain, so I expect you at least to give me the buffalo that gave the milk."

"Nonsense!" cried the neatherd. "A buffalo for a pipkin! Who ever heard of such a price? And what on earth could you do with a buffalo when you got it? Why, the pipkin was about as much as you could manage."

At this the rat drew himself up with dignity, for he did not like allusions to his size.

"That is my affair, not yours," he retorted. "Your business is to hand over the buffalo."

So just for the fun of the thing, and to amuse themselves at the rat's expense, the neatherds loosed the buffalo's halter and began to tie it to the little animal's tail.

"No! no!" he called, in a great hurry. "If the beast pulled, the skin of my tail would come off, and then where should I be? Tie it round my neck, if you please."

So with much laughter the neatherds tied the halter round the rat's neck, and he, after a polite leave-taking, set off gaily towards home with his prize; that is to say, he set off with the rope, for no sooner did he come to the end of the tether than he was brought up with a round turn. The buffalo, nose down grazing away, would not budge until it had finished its tuft of grass, and then seeing another in a different direction marched off towards it, while the rat, to avoid being dragged, had to trot humbly behind, willy-nilly.

He was too proud to confess the truth, of course, and, nodding his head knowingly to the neatherds, said, "Ta-ta, good people! I am going home this way. It may be a little longer, but it's much shadier."

And when the neatherds roared with laughter he took no notice, but trotted on, looking as dignified as possible.

"After all," he reasoned to himself, "when one keeps a buffalo one has to look after its grazing. A beast must get a good bellyful of grass if it is to give any milk, and I have plenty of time at my disposal."

So all day long he trotted about after the buffalo, making believe. But by evening he was dead tired, and felt truly thankful when the great big beast, having eaten enough, lay down under a tree to chew the cud.

Just then a bridal party came by. The bridegroom and his friends had evidently gone on to the next village, leaving the bride's palanquin [litter] to follow; so the palanquin bearers, being lazy fellows and seeing a nice shady tree, put down their burden, and began to cook some food.

"What detestable meanness!" grumbled one. "A grand wedding, and nothing but plain rice pottage to eat! Not a scrap of meat in it, neither sweet nor salt! It would serve the skinflints right if we upset the bride into a ditch!"

"Dear me!" cried the rat at once, seeing a way out of his difficulty, "that is a shame! I sympathize with your feelings so entirely that if you will allow me I'll give you my buffalo. You can kill it, and cook it."

"Your buffalo!" returned the discontented bearers, "what rubbish! Whoever heard of a rat owning a buffalo?"

"Not often, I admit," replied the rat with conscious pride; "but look for yourselves. Can you not see that I am leading the beast by a string?"

"Oh, never mind the string!" cried a great big hungry bearer. "Master or no master, I mean to have meat to my dinner!"

Whereupon they killed the buffalo, and, cooking its flesh, ate their dinner with relish. Then, offering the remains to the rat, said carelessly, "Here, little Rat-Skin, that is for you!"

"Now look here!" cried the rat hotly; "I'll have none of your pottage, nor your sauce either. You don't suppose I am going to give my best buffalo, that gave quarts and quarts of milk -- the buffalo I have been feeding all day -- for a wee bit of rice? No! I got a loaf for a bit of stick. I got a pipkin for a little loaf. I got a buffalo for a pipkin. And now I'll have the bride for my buffalo -- the bride, and nothing else!"

By this time the servants, having satisfied their hunger, began to reflect on what they had done, and becoming alarmed at the consequences, arrived at the conclusion it would be wisest to make their escape whilst they could. So, leaving the bride in her palanquin, they took to their heels in various directions.

The rat, being as it were left in possession, advanced to the palanquin, and drawing aside the curtain, with the sweetest of voices and best of bows begged the bride to descend. She hardly knew whether to laugh or to cry, but as any company, even a rat's, was better than being quite alone in the wilderness, she did as she was bidden, and followed the lead of her guide, who set off as fast as he could for his hole.

As he trotted along beside the lovely young bride, who, by her rich dress and glittering jewels, seemed to be some king's daughter, he kept saying to himself, "How clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be sure!"

When they arrived at his hole, the rat stepped forward with the greatest politeness, and said, "Welcome, madam, to my humble abode! Pray step in, or if you will allow me, and as the passage is somewhat dark, I will show you the way."

Whereupon he ran in first, but after a time, finding the bride did not follow, he put his nose out again, saying testily, "Well, madam, why don't you follow? Don't you know it's rude to keep your husband waiting?"

"My good sir," laughed the handsome young bride, "I can't squeeze into that little hole!"

The rat coughed. Then after a moment's thought he replied, "There is some truth in your remark. You are overgrown, and I suppose I shall have to build you a thatch somewhere. For tonight you can rest under that wild plum-tree."

"But I am so hungry!" said the bride ruefully.

"Dear, dear! everybody seems hungry today!" returned the rat pettishly; "however, that's easily settled. I'll fetch you some supper in a trice."

So he ran into his hole, returning immediately with an ear of millet and a dry pea.

"There!" said he, triumphantly, "isn't that a fine meal?"

"I can't eat that!" whimpered the bride. "It isn't a mouthful; and I want rice pottage, and cakes; and sweet eggs, and sugar-drops. I shall die if I don't get them!"

"Oh dear me!" cried the rat in a rage, "what a nuisance a bride is, to be sure! Why don't you eat the wild plums?"

"I can't live on wild plums!" retorted the weeping bride. "Nobody could. Besides, they are only half ripe, and I can't reach them."

"Rubbish!" cried the rat. "Ripe or unripe, they must do you for tonight, and tomorrow you can gather a basketful, sell them in the city, and buy sugar-drops and sweet eggs to your heart's content!"

So the next morning the rat climbed up into the plum-tree, and nibbled away at the stalks till the fruit fell down into the bride's veil. Then, unripe as they were, she carried them into the city, calling out through the streets:

Green plums I sell! green plums I sell!
Princess am I, rat's bride as well!

As she passed by the palace, her mother the queen heard her voice, and, running out, recognized her daughter. Great were the rejoicings, for everyone thought the poor bride had been eaten by wild beasts.

In the midst of the feasting and merriment, the rat, who had followed the princess at a distance, and had become alarmed at her long absence, arrived at the door, against which he beat with a big knobby stick, calling out fiercely, "Give me my wife! give me my wife! She is mine by fair bargain. I gave a stick and I got a loaf. I gave a loaf and I got a pipkin. I gave a pipkin and I got a buffalo. I gave a buffalo and I got a bride. Give me my wife! Give me my wife!"

"La! son-in-law! what a fuss you do make!" said the wily old queen, through the door, "and all about nothing! Who wants to run away with your wife? On the contrary, we are proud to see you, and I only keep you waiting at the door till we can spread the carpets, and receive you in style."

Hearing this, the rat was mollified, and waited patiently outside whilst the cunning old queen prepared for his reception, which she did by cutting a hole in the very middle of a stool, putting a red-hot stone underneath, covering it over with a stew-pan lid, and then spreading a beautiful embroidered cloth over all.

Then she went to the door, and receiving the rat with the greatest respect, led him to the stool, praying him to be seated.

"Dear! dear! how clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be sure!" said he to himself as he climbed onto the stool. "Here I am, son-in-law to a real live queen! What will the neighbors say?"

At first he sat down on the edge of the stool, but even there it was warm, and after a while he began to fidget, saying, "Dear me, mother-in-law! how hot your house is! Everything I touch seems burning!"

"You are out of the wind there, my son," replied the cunning old queen; "sit more in the middle of the stool, and then you will feel the breeze and get cooler."

But he didn't! for the stew-pan lid by this time had become so hot, that the rat fairly frizzled when he sat down on it; and it was not until he had left all his tail, half his hair, and a large piece of his skin behind him, that he managed to escape, howling with pain, and vowing that never, never, never again would he make a bargain!

What the Old Man Does Is Always Right

Denmark, Hans Christian Andersen

I will tell you a story that was told me when I was a little boy. Every time I thought of this story, it seemed to me more and more charming; for it is with stories as it is with many people -- they become better as they grow older.

I have no doubt that you have been in the country, and seen a very old farmhouse, with a thatched roof, and moss and small plants growing wild upon it. There is a stork's nest on the ridge of the gable, for we cannot do without the stork. The walls of the house are sloping, and the windows are low, and only one of them is made to open. The baking oven sticks out of the wall like a great knob. An elder tree hangs over the fence; and beneath its branches, at the foot of the fence, is a pool of water with a few ducks. There is a watchdog too, who barks at everyone.

Just such a farmhouse as this stood in a country lane; and in it lived an old couple, a peasant and his wife. Small as their possessions were, they had one article they could not do without, and that was a horse, which contrived to live upon the grass that it found by the side of the highroad. The old peasant rode into the town upon this horse, and his neighbors often borrowed it from him, and paid for the loan of it by rendering some service to the old couple. After a time they thought it would be as well to sell the horse, or exchange it for something which might be more useful to them. But what might this something be?

"You'll know best, old man," said the wife. "It is market day today; so ride into town, and get rid of the horse for money, or make a good exchange; whichever you do will be right to me, so ride to the market."

And she fastened his neckerchief for him; for she could do that better than he could, and she could also tie it very prettily in a double bow. She also smoothed his hat round and round with the palm of her hand, and gave him a kiss. Then he rode away upon the horse that was to be sold or bartered for something else. Yes, the old man knew what he was about. The sun shone with great heat, and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. The road was very dusty; for a number of people, all going to market, were driving, riding, or walking upon it. There was no shelter anywhere from the hot sunshine. Among the rest a man came trudging along, and driving a cow to the fair. The cow was as beautiful a creature as any cow could be.

"She gives good milk, I am certain," said the peasant to himself. "That would be a very good exchange: the cow for the horse. Hallo there! you with the cow," he said. "I tell you what; I dare say a horse is of more value than a cow; but I don't care for that. A cow will be more useful to me; so, if you like, we'll exchange."

"To be sure I will," said the man.

Accordingly the exchange was made; and as the matter was settled, the peasant might have turned back; for he had done the business he came to do. But, having made up his mind to go to market, he determined to do so, if only to have a look at it; so on he went to the town with his cow. Leading the animal, he strode on sturdily, and, after a short time, overtook a man who was driving a sheep. It was a good fat sheep, with fine fleece on its back.

"I should like to have that fellow," said the peasant to himself. "There is plenty of grass for him by our fence, and in the winter we could keep him in the room with us. Perhaps it would be more profitable to have a sheep than a cow. Shall I exchange?"

The man with the sheep was quite ready, and the bargain was quickly made. And then our peasant continued his way on the highroad with his sheep. Soon after this, he overtook another man, who had come onto the road from a field, and was carrying a large goose under his arm.

"What a heavy creature you have there!" said the peasant; "it has plenty of feathers and plenty of fat, and would look well tied to a string, or paddling in the water at our place. That would be very useful to my old woman. She could make all sorts of profits out of it. How often she has said, 'If now we only had a goose!' Now here is an opportunity, and, if possible, I will get it for her. Shall we exchange? I will give you my sheep for your goose, and thanks into the bargain."

The other had not the least objection, and accordingly the exchange was made, and our peasant became possessor of the goose. By this time he had arrived very near the town. The crowd on the highroad had been gradually increasing, and there was quite a rush of men and cattle. The cattle walked on the path and by the fence, and at the turnpike gate they even walked into the gatekeeper's potato field, where a chicken was strutting about with a string tied to its leg, for fear it should take fright at the crowd, and run away and get lost. The chicken's tail feathers were very short, and it winked with both its eyes, and looked very cunning, as it said "cluck, cluck." What were the thoughts of the chicken as it said this I cannot tell you; but as soon as our good man saw it, he thought, "Why that's the finest chicken I ever saw in my life; it's finer than our parson's brood hen, upon my word. I should like to have that chicken. Chickens can always pick up a few grains that lie about, and almost keep themselves. I think it would be a good exchange if I could get it for my goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked the gatekeeper.

"Exchange," repeated the man; "well, it would not be a bad thing."

And so they made an exchange. The gatekeeper at the turnpike gate kept the goose, and the peasant carried off the chicken. Now he had really done a great deal of business on his way to market, and he was hot and tired. He wanted something to eat, and a glass of ale to refresh himself; so he turned his steps to an inn. He was just about to enter when the innkeeper came out, and they met at the door. The innkeeper was carrying a sack. "What have you in that sack?" asked the peasant.

"Rotten apples," answered the innkeeper; "a whole sackful of them. They will do to feed the pigs with."

"Why that will be terrible waste," he replied; "I should like to take them home to my old woman. Last year the old apple tree by the grass plot only bore one apple, and we kept it in the cupboard till it was quite withered and rotten. It was always property, my old woman said; and here she would see a great deal of property -- a whole sackful; I should like to show them to her."

"What will you give me for the sackful?" asked the innkeeper.

"What will I give? Well, I will give you my chicken in exchange."

So he gave up the chicken, and received the apples, which he carried into the inn parlor. He leaned the sack carefully against the stove, and then went to the table. But the stove was hot, and he had not thought of that. Many guests were present -- horse dealers, cattle drovers, and two Englishmen. The Englishmen were so rich that their pockets quite bulged out and seemed ready to burst; and they could bet too, as you shall hear. "Hiss-s-s, hiss-s-s." What could that be by the stove? The apples were beginning to roast. "What is that?" asked one.

"Why, do you know" -- said our peasant. And then he told them the whole story of the horse, which he had exchanged for a cow, and all the rest of it, down to the apples.

"Well, your old woman will give it you well when you get home," said one of the Englishmen. "Won't there be a noise?"

"What! Give me what?" said the peasant. "Why, she will kiss me, and say, 'what the old man does is always right.'"

"Let us lay a wager on it," said the Englishmen. "We'll wager you a ton of coined gold, a hundred pounds to the hundredweight."

"No; a bushel will be enough," replied the peasant. "I can only set a bushel of apples against it, and I'll throw myself and my old woman into the bargain; that will pile up the measure, I fancy."

"Done! taken!" and so the bet was made.

Then the landlord's coach came to the door, and the two Englishmen and the peasant got in, and away they drove, and soon arrived and stopped at the peasant's hut.

"Good evening, old woman."

"Good evening, old man."

"I've made the exchange."

"Ah, well, you understand what you're about," said the woman. Then she embraced him, and paid no attention to the strangers, nor did she notice the sack.

"I got a cow in exchange for the horse."

"Thank Heaven," said she. "Now we shall have plenty of milk, and butter, and cheese on the table. That was a capital exchange."

"Yes, but I changed the cow for a sheep."

"Ah, better still!" cried the wife. "You always think of everything; we have just enough pasture for a sheep. Ewe's milk and cheese, woolen jackets and stockings! The cow could not give all these, and her hair only falls off. How you think of everything!"

"But I changed away the sheep for a goose."

"Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old man, you are always thinking of something to please me. This is delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to her leg, so she will be fatter still before we roast her."

"But I gave away the goose for a chicken."

"A chicken! Well, that was a good exchange," replied the woman. "The chicken will lay eggs and hatch them, and we shall have chicks; we shall soon have a poultry yard. Oh, this is just what I was wishing for."

"Yes, but I exchanged the chicken for a sack of shriveled apples."

"What! I really must give you a kiss for that!" exclaimed the wife. "My dear, good husband, now I'll tell you something. Do you know, almost as soon as you left me this morning, I began to think of what I could give you nice for supper this evening, and then I thought of fried eggs and bacon, with sweet herbs. I had eggs and bacon, but I lacked the herbs, so I went over to the schoolmaster's. I knew they had plenty of herbs, but the schoolmistress is very mean, although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful of herbs. 'Lend!' she exclaimed, 'I have nothing to lend. Nothing at all grows in our garden, not even a shriveled apple. I could not even lend you a shriveled apple, my dear woman. But now I can lend her ten, or a whole sackful, which I'm very glad of. It makes me laugh to think about it." And then she gave him a hearty kiss.

"Well, I like all this," said both the Englishmen; "always going down the hill, and yet always merry; it's worth the money to see it." So they paid a hundredweight of gold to the peasant, who, whatever he did, was not scolded but kissed.

Yes, it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her husband knows best, and whatever he does is right.

That is a story which I heard when I was a child; and now you have heard it too, and know that "what the old man does is always right."

Old Nick and the Girl

Sweden

There was once a girl who was so mad about dancing that she nearly went out of her mind whenever she heard a fiddle strike up.

She was a very clever dancer, and a smarter girl to whirl round in a dance or kick her heels was not easily to be found, although she only had shoes made of birch bark, and knitted leggings on her feet. She swept past at such a rate that the air whistled round her like a humming top. She might have whirled round still more quickly and lightly, of course, if she had had leather shoes. But how was she to get them, when she had no money to pay for them? For she was very poor, this girl, and could ill afford them.

So one day, when the fair was being held at Amberg Heath, whom should she meet but Old Nick [the devil]! He was going to see the fun of the fair, as you may guess, for all sorts of tramps and vagabonds and watch dealers and rogues go there. And where such gentry are to be found, others of the same feather are sure to flock together.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Old Nick, who knew well enough how matters stood.

"I am wondering how I shall be able to get a pair of leather shoes to dance in," said the girl, "for I haven't any money to pay for them," she said.

"Is that all? We'll soon get over that," said Old Nick, and produced a pair of leather shoes, which he showed her. "Do you like these?" he asked.

The girl stood staring at the shoes. She could never have believed that there were such fine, splendid shoes, for they were not common ones sewn with pitched thread, but real German shoes with welted soles, and looked as French as one could wish.

"Is there a spring in them as well?" she asked.

"Yes, that you may be sure of," said Old Nick. "Do you want them?"

Yes, that she did. There could be no doubt about that. And so they began bargaining and higgling about the payment, till at last they came to terms. She was to have the shoes for a whole year for nothing, if only she would dance in his interest, and afterwards she should belong to him.

She did not exactly make a good bargain, but Old Nick is not a person one can bargain with. But there was to be such a spring in them that no human being would be able to swing round quicker in a dance or kick higher than she did. And if they did not satisfy her, he would take them back for nothing, and she should be free.

With this they parted.

And now the girl seemed to wake up thoroughly. She thought of nothing else but going to dances, wherever they might be, night after night. Well, she danced and danced, and before she knew it the year came to an end, and Old Nick came and asked for his due.

"They were a rubbishy pair of shoes you gave me," said the girl. "There was no spring at all in them," she said.

"Wasn't there any spring in the shoes? That's very strange," said Old Nick

"No, there wasn't!" said the girl. "Why, my bark shoes are far better, and I can get on much faster in them than in these wretched things."

"You twist about as if you were dancing," said Old Nick. "But now I think you will have to dance away with me after all."

"Well, if you don't believe my words, I suppose you'll believe your eyes," she said. "Put on these grand shoes of yours, and try them yourself," she said. "And I'll put on my bark shoes, and then we'll have a race, so that you can see what they are good for," she said.

Well, that was reasonable enough, he thought, and, no doubt, he felt there was very little danger in trying it. So they agreed to race to the end of Lake Fryken and back, on each side of the lake, which, as you know, is a very long one indeed. If she came in first she was to be free, but if she came in last she was to belong to him.

But the girl had to run home first of all, for she had a roll of cloth for the parson, which she must deliver before she tried her speed with Old Nick. Very well, that she might, for he went in fear of the parson. But the race should take place on the third day afterwards.

Now, as bad luck would have it for Old Nick, it so happened that the girl had a sister, who was so like her that it was impossible to know one from the other, for they were twins, the two girls.

But the sister was not mad about dancing, so Old Nick had not got scent of her. The girl now asked her sister to place herself at Frykstad, the south end of the lake, and she herself took up her position at Fryksend, the north end of it.

She had the bark shoes on, and Old Nick the leather ones. And so they set off, each on their side of the lake. The girl did not run very far, for she knew well enough how little running she need do. But Old Nick set off at full speed, much faster than one can ride on the railway.

But when he came to Frykstad he found the girl already there. And when he came back to Fryksend there she was too.

"Well, you see now?" said the girl.

"Of course I see," said Old Nick, but he was not the man to give in at once. "One time is no time, that you know," he said.

"Well, let's have another try," said the girl.

Yes, that he would, for the soles of his shoes were almost worn out, and then he knew what state the bark shoes would be in.

They set off for the second time, and Old Nick ran so fast that the air whistled round the corners of the houses in Sonne and Emtervik parishes. But when he came to Frykstad, the girl was already there, and when he got back to Fryksend, she was there before him this time also.

"Can you see now who comes in first?" she said.

"Yes, of course I can," said Old Nick, and began to dry the perspiration off his face, thinking all the time what a wonderful runner that girl must be. "But you know," he said, "twice is hardly half a time! It's the third time that counts."

"Let's have another try, then," said the girl.

Yes, that he would, for Old Nick is very sly, you know, for when the leather shoes were so torn to pieces that his feet were bleeding, he knew well enough what state the bark shoes would be in.

And so they set off again. Old Nick went at a terrible speed. It was just like a regular north-wester rushing past, for now he was furious. He rushed onwards, so that the roofs were swept away and the fences creaked and groaned all the way through Sonne and Emtervik parishes. But when he got to Frykstad the girl war there, and when he got back to Fryksend then she was there too.

His feet were now in such a plight that the flesh hung in pieces from them, and he was so out of breath, and groaned so hard, that the sound echoed in the mountains. The girl almost pitied the old creature, disgusting as he was.

"Do you see, now," she said, "that there's a better spring in my bark shoes than in your leather ones? There's nothing left of yours, while mine will hold out for another run, if you would like to try," she said.

No. Old Nick had now to acknowledge himself beaten, and so she was free.

"I've never seen the like of such a woman," he said, "but if you go on dancing and jumping about like that all your days we are sure to meet once more," he said.

"Oh, no!" said the girl. And since then she has never danced again, for it is not every time that you can succeed in getting away from Old Nick.

The Tiger and the Frog

Tibet

Once upon a time, in the days when the world was young and all animals understood each other's languages, an old, old tiger named Tsuden went out hunting for some food. As he was creeping quietly along the banks of a stream a frog saw him and was badly scared. He thought, "This tiger is coming to eat me up."

He climbed up on a little bunch of sod, and when the tiger came near, called out, "Hello, where are you going?"

The tiger answered, "I am going up into the forest to hunt something to eat. I haven't had any food for two or three days, and I am very weak and hungry. I guess I'll eat you up. You're awfully small, but I can't find anything else. Who are you, anyway?"

The frog replied, swelling up as big as he could, "I am the king of frogs. I can jump any distance and can do anything. Here's a river. Let's see who can jump across."

The tiger answered, "All right," and as he crouched ready to jump, the frog slipped up and got hold of the end of his tail with his mouth, and when the tiger jumped, he was thrown away up the bank across the river. After Tsuden got across, he turned around and looked and looked into the river for the frog. But as the tiger turned, the frog let loose of his tail and said, "What are you looking for, old tiger, down there?"

The tiger whirled quickly, very much surprised to see the frog away up the bank behind him.

Said the frog, "Now I beat you in that test, let's try another. Suppose we both vomit."

The tiger being empty could only throw up a little water, but the frog spit up some tiger hair.

The tiger, much astonished, asked, "How do you happen to be able to do that?"

The frog replied, "Oh, yesterday I killed a tiger and ate him, and these are just a few of the hairs that aren't yet digested."

The tiger began to think to himself, "He must be very strong. Yesterday he killed and ate a tiger, and now he has jumped farther than I did over the river. Guess I'd better slip away before he eats me." Then he sidled away a little piece, quickly turned, and began to run away as fast as he could, up the mountain.

He met a fox coming down who asked, "What's the matter? Why are you running away so fast?"

"Say," the old tiger said, "I met the king of all the frogs, who is very strong. Why, he has been eating tigers, and he jumped across the river and landed farther up the bank than I did."

The fox laughed at him and said, "What, are you running away from that little frog? He is nothing at all. I am only a little fox, but I could put my foot on him and kill him."

The tiger answered, "I know what this frog can do, but if you think you can kill him, I'll go back with you. I am afraid you will get frightened and run away, however, so we must tie our tails together."

So they tied their tails fast in a lot of knots and went down to see the frog, who still sat on his piece of sod, looking as important as he could. He saw them coming and called out to the fox, "You're a great fox. You haven't paid your toll to the king today, nor brought any meat either. Is that a dog you've got tied to your tail, and are you bringing him for my dinner?"

Then the tiger was frightened, for he thought the fox was taking him to the king to be eaten. So he turned and ran and ran as fast as he could go, dragging the poor fox with him, and if they are not dead, they are still running today.

An Unequal Match; Or, Why the Carabao's Hoof Is Split

Philippines (Tagalog)

Once a carabao and a turtle met on a road. They walked in the woods, and had a fine talk together. The turtle was a sort of humorist, and was constantly giving exhibitions of his dexterity in getting food by trickery. But he was especially anxious to win the friendship of the carabao; for he thought that, if they were friendly, this big fellow would help him whenever he got into trouble. So he said to the carabao, "Let us live together and hunt our food together! thus we shall break the monotony of our solitary lives."

But the carabao snorted when he heard this proposal; and he replied, "You slow thing! You ought to live with the drones, not with a swift and powerful person like me."

The turtle was very much offended, and to get even he challenged the carabao to a race. At first the carabao refused to accept the challenge, for he thought it would be a disgrace for him to run against a turtle. The turtle said to the carabao, "If you will not race with me, I will go to all the forests, woods, and mountains, and tell all your companions and all my friends and all the animal kingdom that you are a coward."

Now the carabao was persuaded; and he said, "All right, only give me three days to get ready for the race." The turtle was only too glad to have the contest put off for three days, for then he too would have a chance to prepare his plans. The agreement between the turtle and the carabao was that the race should extend over seven hills.

The turtle at once set out to visit seven of his friends; and, by telling them that if he could win this race it would be to the glory of the turtle kingdom, he got them to promise to help him. So the next day he stationed a turtle on the top of each hill, after giving them all instructions.

The third day came. Early the next morning the turtle and the carabao met at the appointed hill. At a given signal the race began, and soon the runners lost sight of each other. When the carabao reached the second hill, he was astonished to see the turtle ahead of him, shouting, "Here I am!" After giving this yell, the turtle at once disappeared. And at every hill the carabao found his enemy ahead of him.

When the carabao was convinced at the seventh hill that he had been defeated, he became so angry that he kicked the turtle. On account of the hardness of its shell, the turtle was uninjured; but the hoof of the carabao was split in two, because of the force of the blow. And even today, the carabaos still bear the mark which an unjust action on the part of their ancestor against one whom he knew was far inferior to him in strength produced on himself.

The Tortoise and the Stag

Brazil

One day, when the tortoise was basking in the sun, a stag passed by, and stopped for a little conversation.

"Would you care to see which of us can run fastest?" asked the tortoise, after some talk.

The stag thought the question so silly that he only shrugged his shoulders.

"Of course, the victor would have the right to kill the other," went on the tortoise.

"Oh, on that condition I agree," answered the deer, "but I am afraid that you are a dead man."

"It is no use trying to frighten me," replied the tortoise. "But I should like three days for training; then I shall be ready to start when the sun strikes on the big tree at the edge of the great clearing."

The first thing the tortoise did was to call his brothers and his cousins together, and he posted them carefully under ferns all along the line of the great clearing, making a sort of ladder which stretched for many miles. This done to his satisfaction, he went back to the starting place.

The stag was quite punctual, and as soon as the sun's rays struck the trunk of the tree the stag started off, and was soon far out of the sight of the tortoise. Every now and then he would turn his head as he ran, and call out, "How are you getting on?" and the tortoise who happened to be nearest at the moment would answer, "All right, I am close up to you."

Full of astonishment, the stag would redouble his efforts, but it was no use. Each time he asked, "Are you there?" the answer would come, "Yes, of course, where else should I be?" And the stag ran, and ran, and ran, till he could run no more, and dropped down dead on the grass.

And the tortoise, when he thinks about it, laughs still.

Mister Rabbit Finds His Match at Last

Joel Chandler Harris

One day when Brer Rabbit was going lippity-clippiting down the road, he meets up with old Brer Terrapin, and after they pass the time of day with one another, they keep on talking, they did, until by and by they got to disputing about which was the swiftest.

Brer Rabbit, he says he can outrun Brer Terrapin, and Brer Terrapin, he just vows that he can outrun Brer Rabbit. Up and down they had it, until first thing you know, Brer Terrapin says he has a fifty-dollar bill in the chink of his chimney at home, and that bill done told him that he could beat Brer Rabbit in a fair race.

Then Brer Rabbit says he has a fifty-dollar bill that says that he can leave Brer Terrapin so far behind that he could sow barley as he went along, and it would be ripe enough to cut by the time Brer Terrapin passed that way.

Anyhow, they make the bet and put up the money, and old Brer Turkey Buzzard, he was summoned to be the judge and the stakeholder. And it wasn't long before all the arrangements were made. The race was a five-mile heat, and the ground was measured off, and at the end of every mile a post was stuck up. Brer Rabbit was to run down the big road, and Brer Terrapin, he says he'd gallop through the woods. Folks told him he could get along faster in the road, but old Brer Terrapin, he knows what he's doing.

Miss Meadows and the gals and most all the neighbors got wind of the fun, and when the day was set, they were determined to be on hand.

Brer Rabbit, he trains himself every day, and he skips over the ground just as gaily as a June cricket.

Old Brer Terrapin, he lies low in the swamp. He had a wife and three children, old Brer Terrapin did, and they were all the very spitting image of the old man. Anybody who knew one from the other had to take a spyglass, and then they were liable to get fooled.

That's the way matters stand until the day of the race, and on that day old Brer Terrapin and his old woman and his three children, they got up before sun-up and went to the place. The old woman, she took her stand near the first milepost, she did, and the children near the others, up to the last, and there old Brer Terrapin, he took his stand.

By and by, here come the folks. Judge Buzzard, he comes, and Miss Meadows and the gals, they come, and then here comes Brer Rabbit with ribbons tied around his neck and streaming from his ears. The folks all went to the other end of the track to see how they would come out.

When the time comes, Judge Buzzard struts around and pulls out his watch and hollers out, "Gents, are you ready?"

Brer Rabbit, he says "yes," and old Miss Terrapin hollers "go" from the edge of the woods.

Brer Rabbit, he lit out on the race, and old Miss Terrapin, she put out for home. Judge Buzzard arose and skimmed along to see that the race was run fair.

When Brer Rabbit got to the first milepost, one of the terrapin children crawls out of the woods, he does, and makes for the place.

Brer Rabbit, he hollers out, "Where are you, Brer Terrapin?"

"Here I come a-bulging," says the terrapin.

Brer Rabbit is so glad he's ahead that he puts out harder than ever, and the Terrapin, he makes for home. When he comes to the next post, another terrapin crawls out of the woods.

"Where are you, Brer Terrapin?" says Brer Rabbit.

"Here I come a-boiling," says the terrapin.

Brer Rabbit, he lit out, he did, and comes to the next post, and there was the terrapin. Then he comes to the next, and there was the terrapin. Then he had one more mile to run, and he's wheezing and puffing. By and by old Brer Terrapin looks way off down the road, and he sees Judge Buzzard sailing along, and he knows it's time for him to be up. So he scrambles out of the wood and rolls across the ditch and shuffles through the crowd of folks and gets to the milepost and crawls behind it.

By and by, first thing you know, here comes Brer Rabbit. He looks around and he don't see Brer Terrapin, and he squalls out, "Give me the money, Brer Buzzard, give me the money!"

Then Miss Meadows and the gals, they holler and laugh fit to kill themselves, and old Brer Terrapin, he rises up from behind the post and says, "If you'll give me time to catch my breath, gents and ladies, one and all, I suspect I'll finger that money myself," he says, and sure enough, Brer Terrapin ties the purse around his neck and scaddles off home.