IT was a beautiful morning, about harvest-time; the buckwheat was in flower, the sun shining in the heavens, and the morning breeze waving the golden corn, while the lark sang blithely in the clear blue sky, and the bees were buzzing about the flowers. The villagers seemed all alive; many of them were dressed in their best clothes, hastening to the fair.
It was a lovely day, and all nature seemed happy, even to a little hedgehog, who stood at his own door. He had his arms folded, and was singing as merrily as little hedgehogs can do on a pleasant morning. While he thus stood amusing himself, his little wife was washing and dressing the children, and he thought he might as well go and see how the field of turnips was getting on, for as he and his family fed upon them, they appeared like his own property. No sooner said than done. He shut the house door after him and started off.
He had not gone farther than the little hedge bordering the turnip field when he met a hare who was on his way to inspect the cabbages, which he also considered belonged to him. When the hedgehog saw the hare he wished him “good morning” very pleasantly.
But the hare, who was a grand gentleman in his way, and not very good-tempered, took no notice of the hedgehog’s greeting, but said, in a most impertinent manner, ‘How is it that you are running about the fields so early this morning?”
“I am taking a walk,” said the hedgehog.
191“Taking a walk!” cried the hare with a laugh. “I don’t think your legs are much suited for walking.”
This answer made the hedgehog very angry. He could bear anything but a reference to his bandy legs, so he said, “You consider your legs are better than mine, I suppose?”
“Well, I rather think they are,” replied the hare.
“I should like to prove it,” said the hedgehog. “I’ll wager anything that if we were to run a race I should win!”
“That is a capital joke!” cried the hare. “To think you could beat me, with your bandy legs! However, if you wish it, I have no objection to trying. What will you bet?”
“A golden guinea and a bottle of wine.”
“Agreed,” said the hare; “and we may as well begin at once.”
“No, no,” said the hedgehog; “not in such a hurry as that. I must go home first and get something to eat. In half an hour I will be here again.”
The hare agreed to wait, and away went the hedgehog, thinking to himself, “The hare trusts in his long legs, but I will conquer him. He thinks himself a very grand gentleman, but he is only a stupid fellow after all, and he will have to pay for his pride.”
On arriving at home, the hedgehog said to his wife, “Wife, dress yourself as quickly as possible; you must go to the field with me.”
“What for?” she asked.
“Well, I have made a bet with the hare of a guinea and a bottle of wine that I will beat him in a race which we are going to run.”
“Why, husband,” cried Mrs. Hedgehog with a scream, “what are you thinking of? Have you lost your senses?”
“Stop your noise, ma’am,” said the hedgehog, “and don’t 192 interfere with my affairs. What do you know about a man’s business? Get ready at once to go with me.”
What could Mrs. Hedgehog say after this? She could only obey and follow her husband, whether she liked it or not. As they walked along together he said to her, “Now, pay attention to what I say. You see that large field? Well, we are going to race across it. The hare will run in one furrow, and I in another. All you have to do is to hide yourself in the furrow at the opposite end of the field from which we start, and when the hare comes up to you, pop up your head and say, ‘Here I am!’ ”
As the talked, the hedgehog and his wife reached the place in the field where he wished her to stop, and then went back, and found the hare at the starting-place, ready to receive him.”
“Do you really mean it?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” replied the hedgehog; “I am quite ready.”
“Then let us start at once,” and each placed himself in his furrow as the hare spoke. The hare counted “One, two, three!” and started like a whirlwind across the field. The hedgehog, however, only ran a few steps, and then popped down in the furrow and remained still.
When the hare, after running at full speed, reached the end of the field, the hedgehog’s wife raised her head and cried out, “Here I am!”
The hare stood still in wonder, for the wife was so like her husband that he thought it must be he. “There is something wrong about this,” he thought. “However, we’ll have another try.” So he turned and flew across the field at such a pace that his ears floated behind him.
The hedgehog’s wife, however, did not move, and when 193 the hare reached the other end the husband was there, and cried, “Here I am!”
The hare was beside himself with vexation, and he cried, “One more try, one more!”
“I don’t mind,” said the hedgehog. “I will go on as long as you like.”
Upon this the hare set off running, and actually crossed the field seventy-three times; and at one end the husband said, “Here I am!” and at the other end the wife said the same. But at the seventy-fourth run the hare’s strength came to an end, and he fell to the ground, and owned himself beaten.
The hedgehog won the guinea and the bottle of wine, and after calling his wife out of the furrow they went home together in very good spirits, to enjoy themselves together. And if they are not dead, they are living still.
The lesson to be learned from his story is, first, that however grand a person may think himself, he should never laugh at others whom he considers inferior until he knows what they can do; and secondly, that when a man chooses a wife, he should take her from the class to which he himself belongs; and if he is a hedgehog, she should be one also.
THERE was once a cook named Grethel, who had shoes with red heels, and when she wore them out-of-doors she would draw herself up, and walk proudly, and say to herself, “I really am a handsome girl!” At home she would sometimes, in a frolic, drink a glass of wine, or, if she took 194 it into her head, she would eat up all the best things in the house till she was satisfied, and say to herself, “The cook ought to know the taste of everything.”
One day her master said to her, “Grethel, I have invited some friends to dinner to-day; cook me some of your best chickens.”
“That I will, master,” she replied.
So she went out, and killed two of the best fowls and prepared them for roasting.
In the afternoon she placed them on the spite before the fire, and they were all ready, and beautifully hot and brown by the proper time, but the visitors had not arrived. So she went to the master, and said, “The fowls will be quite spoiled if I keep them at the fire any longer. It will be a pity and a shame if they are not eaten soon!”
Then said her master, “I will go and fetch the visitors myself,” and away he went.
As soon as his back was turned Grethel put the spit with the birds on one side, and thought, “I have been standing by the fire so long that it has made me quite thirsty. Who knows when they will come? While I am waiting I may as well run into the cellar and have a little drop.” So she seized a jug, and said, “All right, Grethel, you shall have a good draft. Wine is so tempting!” she continued, “and it does not do to spoil your draft.” And she drank without stopping till the jug was empty.
After this she went into the kitchen, and placed the fowls again before the fire, basted them with butter, and rattled the spit round so furiously that they browned and frizzled with the heat. “They would never miss a little piece if they searched for it ever so carefully,” she said to herself. Then she dipped her finger in the dripping-pan to taste, and cried, 195 “Oh, how nice these fowls are! It is a sin and a shame that there is no one here to eat them!”
She ran to the window to see if her master and the guests were coming; but she could see no one. So she went and stood again by the fowls, and thought, “The wing of that fowl is a little burned. I had better eat it out of the way.” She cut if off as she thought this, and ate it up, and it tasted so nice that when she had finished it she thought, “I must have the other. Master will never notice that anything is missing.”
After the two wings were eaten, Grethel again went to look for her master, but there were no signs of his appearance.
“Who knows?” she said to herself; “perhaps the visitors are not coming at all, and they have kept my master to dinner, so he won’t be back. Hi, Grethel! there are lots of good things left for you; and that piece of fowl has made me thirsty. I must have another drink before I come back and eat up all these good things.”
So she went into the cellar, took a large draft of wine, and returning to the kitchen, sat down an ate the remainder of the fowl with great relish.
There was now only one fowl left, and as her master did not return, Grethel began to look at the other with longing eyes. At last she said, “Where one is, there the other must be; for the fowls belong to each other, and what is right for one is also fair and right for the other. I believe, too, I want some more to drink. It won’t hurt me.”
The last draft gave her courage. She came back to the kitchen and let the second fowl go after the first.
As she was enjoying the last morsel, home came her master.
19“Make haste, Grethel,” he cried. “The guests will be here in a few minutes.”
“Yes, master,” she replied. “It will soon be all ready.”
Meanwhile the master saw that the cloth was laid and everything in order. So he took up the carving-knife with which he intended to carve the fowl, and went out to sharpen it on the stones in the passage.
While he was doing so, the guests arrived and knocked gently and courteously at the house door. Grethel ran out to see who it was, and when she caught sight of one of the visitors she placed her finger on her lips, and whispered, “Hush! Hush! Go back again as quickly as you came! If my master should catch you it would be unfortunate. He did invite you to dinner this evening, but with no other intention than to cut off both the ears of each of you. Listen; you can hear him sharpening his knife.”
The guests heard the sound, and hastened as fast as they could down the steps, and were soon out of sight.
Grethel was not idle. She ran screaming to her master, and cried, “You have invited fine visitors, certainly!”
“Hi! Why, Grethel, what to you mean?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “they came here just now, and have taken my two beautiful fowls from the dish that I was going to bring up for dinner, and have run away with them.”
“What strange conduct!” said her mater, who was so sorry to lose his nice dinner that he rushed out to follow the thieves. “If they had only left me one, or at least enough for my own dinner!” he cried, running after them. But the more he cried to them to stop the faster they ran; and when they saw him with the knife in his hand, and heard him say, “Only one! only one!” — he meant, if they had left him “only one fowl,” but they thought he spoke of “only one 197 ear,” which he intended to cut off — they ran as if fire were burning around them, and were not satisfied till they found themselves safe at home with both ears untouched.
THERE were once a little mouse, a little bird, and a sausage, who formed a partnership.
They had set up housekeeping, and had lived for a long time in great harmony together. The duty of the little bird was to fly every day into the forest and bring home wood; the mouse had to draw water, to light the fire, and lay the table-cloth; and the sausage was cook.
How often, when we are comfortable, we begin to long for something new! So it happened one day that the little bird had met on his road another bird, to which he had boasted of their happiness and friendship at home.
The other bird replied scornfully, “What a poor little simpleton you are, to work in the way you do, while the other two are enjoying themselves at home! When the mouse has lighted the fire and drawn the water, she can go and rest in her little room till she is called to lay the cloth. The sausage can sit by the stove while he watches to see that the dinner is well cooked, and when dinner-time arrives he devours four times as much broth or vegetables as the others, till he quite shines with salt and fat.”
The bird, after listening to this, came home quite discontented, and, laying down his load, seated himself at the table, and ate so much, and filled his crop so full, that he slept till 198 the next morning without waking, and thought this was a happy life.
The next day the little bird objected to go and etch wood, saying that he had been their servant long enough, and that he had been a fool to work for them in this way. He intended at once to make a change, and to seek his living in another way.
After this, although the mouse and the sausage were both in a rage, the bird was master, and would have his own way. So he proposed that they should draw lots; and the lots fell so that the sausage was to fetch the wood, the mouse to be cook, and the bird to draw the water. Now, what was the consequence of all this? The sausage went out to get wood, the bird lighted the fire, and the mouse put on the saucepan, and sat down to watch it till the sausage returned home with the wood for the next day. But he stayed away so long that the bird, who wanted a breath of fresh air, went out to look for him. On his way he met a dog, who told him that, having met with the sausage, and considered him as his lawful prey, he had devoured him.
The bird complained greatly against the dog for his conduct, and called him a cruel robber, but it did no good.
“For,” said the dog, “the sausage had false papers with him, and therefore his life was forfeited to society.”
The little bird, full of sorrow, flew home, carrying the wood with him, and related to the mouse what he had seen and heard. They were both very grieved, but quickly agreed that the best thing for them to do was to remain together.
From that time the bird undertook to prepare the table, and the mouse to roast something for supper, and to put the vegetables into the saucepan, as she had seen the sausage do; 199 but before she had half finished her task the fire burned her so terribly that she fell down and died.
When the little bird came home, expecting to find something to eat, there was no cook to be seen, and the fire was nearly out. The bird, in alarm, threw the wood here an there, cried out, and searched everywhere, but no cook could be found.
Meanwhile, a spark from the fire fell on the wood and set it in a blaze, so that there was danger of the house being burned. The bird ran in haste to the well for water. Unfortunately, he let the pail fall into the well, and being dragged after it, he sank into the water and was drowned.
And all this happened because one little bird listened to another who was jealous of the happy little family at home, and from being discontented and changing their arrangements they all met with death.
ONCE upon a time there lived an old fox, who, strange to say, had nine tails, which did not, however, make him either wiser or better. He had a snug home near a wood, yet he was not happy, for he was jealous of his wife, and thought she was not true to him. At last he could bear it no longer, and he determined to find out by a cunning stratagem; and foxes, as we know, are very cunning.
So one day he lay down on a bench, stretched himself out at full length, held his breath, and kept as motionless as a dead mouse. When Mrs. Fox came into the room she thought he was dead, so she locked herself in a room with 200 her maid, a young cat, and was very unhappy for a little while. But presently Mrs. Fox began to feel hungry, so she sent her young maid, pussy, down-stairs, to cook something nice for supper.
The news of poor old fox’s death soon spread in the neighborhood, and even before the funeral several lovers came to sue for the hand of Widow Fox.
The young cat was busy frying sausages when she heard a knock at the door, so she went out to see who it could be, and there stood a young fox.
“Oh, it is you, Miss Kitty?” he said. “Are you asleep or awake, and what are you doing?”
“Oh,” she replied, “I’m wide awake, never fear; and do you want to know what I’m doing? Well, I’m getting supper ready, and warming some beer with a piece of butter in it for my mistress. Will you come in, sir, and have supper with me?”
“Thank you, my dear,” said the fox; “but what is Widow Fox doing?”
“Oh,” replied the cat, “she does nothing but sit in her room all day and cry her eyes out, because Mr. Fox is dead.”
“Then go and tell her that a young fox is here, who wishes to become her suitor.”
“Very good, young sir,” said the cat, as she turned away to go to her mistress.
She tripped up-stairs, and, opening the room door, exclaimed, “Are you there, dear Mother Fox?”
“Yes, little puss; what is the matter?”
“There is a suitor come already.”
“Nonsense, child! What is he like?”
“Oh, he is a handsome young fox, with a bushy tail, and such whiskers!”
201“Ah!” sighed the widow. “But has he nine beautiful tails, like my poor old husband had?”
“No,” answered the cat; “he has only one.”
“Then I won’t have him!” replied the widow.
The young cat went down and gave the message to the suitor, and sent him away. But soon after there came another knock at the door, and when the cat opened it there stood a fox who wished to court Widow Fox. He had two tails, but had no better success than the first.
And so they kept coming, one after the other, each with one tail more, till at last a fox made his appearance who had nine tails, like the widow’s dead husband. The cat ran upstairs to tell the widow, who asked, “Has the gentleman white stockings and a pointed nose?”
“No,” answered the cat.
“Ah, then he won’t do for me,” she said.
By and by came a wolf, a dog, a stag, a bear, and even a lion; but she would have nothing to do with any of them. By this time the old fox began to think that he had made a mistake about his wife; and, indeed, he was getting so hungry that he could hardly lie still and sham being dead any longer. He opened his eyes, and was just going to spring up and say, “Dear old wife, I’m not dead at all!” when in came the cat.
“Oh, Madam Fox,” she exclaimed, “there’s a young gentleman fox down-stairs, and he’s so handsome! He has nine tails, a scarlet tongue, white stockings, and a pointed nose, and he wants to become a suitor.”
That is just the husband for me, pussy,” said Widow Fox; “and we’ll have such a splendid wedding! But first, open all the doors and windows, and throw the old fox out and bury him.”
202At these words the old fox could stand it no longer. Up he started from his place under the bench, gave the whole party a good thrashing, turned the young cat and all the other servants and suitors out of the house, and Widow Fox after them. So he had the place all to himself, and made a firm resolve never to die again, if he could help it.