 CHAPTER XI. The Goblin of Arachigahara Long, long ago there was a large plain called Arachigahara in the province of Mutsu in Japan. This place was said to be haunted by a cannibal goblin who took the form of an old woman. From time to time many travelers disappeared and were never heard of more, and the old women ran the charcoal braziers in the evenings, and the girls washing the household rice at the wells in the mornings, whispered dreadful stories of how the missing folk had been lured to the goblin's cottage and devoured, for the goblin lived only on human flesh. No one dared to venture near the haunted spot after sunset, and all those who could avoided it in the daytime, and travelers were warned of the dreaded place. One day as the sun was setting a priest came to the plain. He was a belated traveler, and his robe showed that he was a Buddhist pilgrim walking from shrine to shrine to pray for some blessing or to crave for forgiveness of sins. He had apparently lost his way, and as it was late he met no one who could show him the road or warn him of the haunted spot. He had walked the whole day and was now tired and hungry, and the evenings were chilly for it was late autumn, and he began to be very anxious to find some house where he could obtain a night's lodging. He found himself lost in the midst of the large plain, and looked about in vain for some sign of human habitation. At last, after wandering about for some hours, he saw a clump of trees in the distance, and through the trees he caught sight of the glimmer of a single ray of light. He exclaimed with joy, Oh, surely that is some cottage where I can get a night's lodging. Keeping the light before his eyes he dragged his weary aching feet as quickly as he could towards the spot, and soon came to a miserable looking little cottage. As he drew near he saw that it was in a tumbledown condition. The bamboo fence was broken, and weeds and grass pushed their way through the gaps. The paper screens which serve as windows and doors in Japan were full of holes, and the posts of the house were bent with age and seemed scarcely able to support the old thatched roof. The hut was open, and by the light of an old lantern an old woman sat industriously spinning. The pilgrim called to her across the bamboo fence and said, Oh, Ba-san, old woman, good evening, I am a traveller, please excuse me, but I have lost my way and do not know what to do, for I have nowhere to rest tonight. I beg you to be good enough to let me spend the night under your roof. The old woman, as soon as she heard herself spoken to, stopped spinning, rose from her seat and approached the intruder. I am very sorry for you. You must indeed be distressed to have lost your way in such a lonely spot so late at night. Unfortunately, I cannot put you up, for I have no bed to offer you, and no accommodation whatsoever for a guest in this poor place. Oh, that does not matter, said the priest. All I want is a shelter under some roof for the night, and if you will be good enough just to let me lie on the kitchen floor I shall be grateful. I am too tired to walk further to-night, so I hope you will not refuse me, otherwise I shall have to sleep out on the cold plain. And in this way he pressed the old woman to let him stay. She seemed very reluctant, but at last she said, Very well, I will let you stay here. I can offer you a very poor welcome only, but come in now, and I will make a fire for the night is cold. The pilgrim was only too glad to do as he was told. He took off his sandals and entered the hut. The old woman then brought some sticks of wood and lit the fire, and bade her guest draw near and warm himself. You must be very hungry after your long tramp, said the old woman. I will go and cook some supper for you." She then went to the kitchen to cook some rice. After the priest had finished his supper the old woman sat down by the fireplace, and they talked together for a long time. The pilgrim thought to himself that he had been very lucky to come across such a kind, hospitable old woman. At last the wood gave out, and as the fire died slowly down he began to shiver with cold, just as he had done when he arrived. I see you are cold, said the old woman. I will go out and gather some wood, for we have used it all. You must stay and take care of the house while I am gone. No, no, said the pilgrim. Let me go instead. For you are old, and I cannot think of letting you go out to get wood for me this cold night. The old woman shook her head and said, You must stay quietly here, for you are my guest. Then she left him and went out. In a minute she came back and said, You must sit where you are and not move, and whatever happens don't go near or look into the inner room. Now mind what I tell you. If you tell me not to go near the back room, of course I won't, said the priest, rather bewildered. The old woman then went out again, and the priest was left alone. The fire had died out, and the only light in the hut was that of a dim lantern. For the first time that night he began to feel that he was in a weird place, and the old woman's words, Whatever you do, don't peep into the back room, aroused his curiosity and his fear. That hidden thing could be in that room that she did not wish him to see. For some time the remembrance of his promise to the old woman kept him still, but at last he could no longer resist his curiosity to peep into the forbidden place. He got up and began to move slowly towards the back room. Then the thought that the old woman would be very angry with him if he disobeyed her made him come back to his place by the fireside. As the minutes went slowly by and the old woman did not return, he began to feel more and more frightened, and to wonder what dreadful secret was in the room behind him he must find out. She will not know that I have looked unless I tell her, I will just have a peep before she comes back, said the man to himself. With these words he got up on his feet, for he had been sitting all this time in Japanese fashion with his feet under him, and stealthily crept towards the forbidden spot. With trembling hands he pushed back the sliding door and looked in. What he saw froze the blood in his veins. The room was full of dead men's bones, and the walls were splashed and the floor was covered with human blood. In one corner skull upon skull rose to the ceiling. In another was a heap of arm bones. In another a heap of leg bones. The sickening smell made him faint. He fell backwards with horror, and for some time lay an heap with fright on the floor, a pitiful sight. He trembled all over and his teeth shattered, and he could hardly crawl away from the dreadful spot. How horrible! he cried out. What awful den have I come to in my travels! May Buddha help me, or I am lost! Is it possible that that kind old woman is really the cannibal goblin? When she comes back she will show herself in her true character, and eat me up at one mouthful. With these words his strength came back to him, and snatching up his hat and staff he rushed out of the house as fast as his legs could carry him. Out into the night he ran, his one thought to get as far as he could from the goblin's haunt. He had not gone far when he heard steps behind him, and a voice crying, Stop! Stop! He ran on, redoubling his speed, pretending not to hear. As he ran he heard the steps behind him come nearer and nearer, and at last he recognized the old woman's voice which grew louder and louder as she came nearer. Stop! Stop, you wicked man! Why did you look into the forbidden room? The priest quite forgot how tired he was, and his feet flew over the ground faster than ever. Fear gave him strength, for he knew that if the goblin caught him he would soon be one of her victims. With all his heart he repeated the prayer to Buddha. Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu. And after him rushed the dreadful old hag, her hair flying in the wind, and her face changing with rage into the demon that she was. In her hand she carried a large blood-stained knife, and she still shrieked after him. Stop! Stop! At last when the priest felt he could run no more the dawn broke, and with the darkness of night the goblin vanished and he was safe. The priest now knew that he had met the goblin of Arachigahara, the story of whom he had often heard but never believed to be true. He felt that he owed his wonderful escape to the protection of Buddha, to whom he had prayed for help. So he took out his rosary, and bowing his head as the sun rose, he set his prayers and made his thanksgiving earnestly. He then set forward for another part of the country, only too glad to leave the haunted plain behind him. End of CHAPTER XI THE GOBLIN OF ARACHIGAHARA CHAPTER XII THE SEGACIOUS MONKEY AND THE BALL Long, long ago, there lived in the province of Shinshin, in Japan, a travelling monkey-man, who earned his living by taking round a monkey and showing off the animal's tricks. One evening the man came home in a very bad temper, and told his wife to send for the butcher the next morning. The wife was very bewildered, and asked her husband, Why do you wish me to send for the butcher? It's no use taking that monkey round any longer, he's too old and forgets his tricks. I beat him with my stick, all I know how, but he won't dance properly. I must now sell him to the butcher, and make what money out of him I can. There is nothing else to be done. The woman felt very sorry for the poor little animal, and pleaded with her husband to spare the monkey. But her pleading was all in vain. The man was determined to sell him to the butcher. Now the monkey was in the next room, and overheard every word of the conversation. He soon understood that he was to be killed, and he said to himself, Barbarus indeed is my master. Here I have served him faithfully for years, and instead of allowing me to end my days comfortably and in peace, he is going to let me be cut up by the butcher, and my poor body is to be roasted and stewed and eaten? Woe is me! What am I to do? Ah! A bright sort has struck me. There is, I know, a wild boar living in the forest nearby. I have often heard tell of his wisdom. Perhaps if I go to him, and tell him the straight I am in, he will give me his counsel. I will go then to try. There was no time to lose. The monkey slipped out of the house, and ran as quickly as he could to the forest to find the boar. The boar was at home, and the monkey began his tale of woe at once. Good Mr. Boar, I have heard of your excellent wisdom. I am in great trouble. You alone can help me. I have grown old in the service of my master, and because I cannot dance properly now, he intends to sell me to the butcher. What do you advise me to do? I know how clever you are. The boar was pleased at the flattery, and determined to help the monkey. He thought for a little while, and then said, Hasn't your master a baby? Oh, yes, said the monkey. He has one infant's son. Doesn't it lie by the door in the morning when your mistress begins the work of the day? Well, I will come round early, and when I see my opportunity I will seize the child and run off with it. What, then? said the monkey. Why, the mother will be in a tremendous scare, and before your master and mistress know what to do, you must run after me and rescue the child, and take it home safely to its parents, and you will see that when the butcher comes they won't have the heart to sell you. The monkey sank the boar many times and then went home. He did not sleep much that night, as you may imagine, for thinking of the morrow. His life depended on whether the boar's plan succeeded or not. He was the first up, waiting anxiously for what was to happen. It seemed to him a very long time before his master's wife began to move about and open the shutters to let in the light of day. Then all happened as the boar had planned. The mother placed her child near the porch as usual, while she tidied up the house and got her breakfast ready. The child was crooning happily in the morning sunlight, dabbing on the mats at the play of light and shadow. Suddenly there was a noise in the porch and a loud cry from the child. The mother ran out from the kitchen to the spot, only just in time to see the boar disappearings for the gate, with her child in its clutch. She flung out her hands with a loud cry of despair and rushed into the inner room where her husband was still sleeping soundly. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes and crossly demanded what his wife was making all that noise about. By the time that the man was alive to what had happened, and they both got outside the gate, the boar had got well away, but they saw the monkey running after the thief as hard as his legs would carry him. Because the man and wife were moved to admiration at the plucky conduct of this gaseous monkey, and their gratitude knew no bounds when the faithful monkey brought the child safely back to their arms. "'There,' said the wife, "'this is the animal you want to kill. If the monkey hadn't been here, we should have lost our child forever.' "'You are right, wife, for once,' said the man as he carried the child into the house. You may send the butcher back when he comes, and now give us all a good breakfast and the monkey, too.' When the butcher arrived he was sent away with an order for some boar's meat for the evening dinner, and the monkey was petted and lived the rest of his days in peace, nor did his master ever strike him again. End of Chapter 12 The Gaseous Monkey and the Boar Died by Gazeena in May 2007. CHAPTER 13 THE HAPPY HUNTER AND THE SKILLFUL FISHER Long, long ago, Japan was governed by Hoho Demi, the Fourth Mikoto, or Augustanus, in descent from the illustrious Amatarrasu, the Sun Goddess. He was not only as handsome as his ancestors was beautiful, but he was also very strong and brave, and was famous for being the greatest hunter in the land. Because of his matchless skill as a hunter, he was called Yamasachi Hiko, or the happy hunter of the mountains. His elder brother was a very skillful fisher, and as he far surpassed all rivals in fishing, he was named Unisacho Hiko, or the skillful fisher of the sea. The brothers thus led happy lives, thoroughly enjoying their respective occupations, and the days passed quickly and pleasantly while each pursued his own way, the one hunting and the other fishing. One day the happy hunter came to his brother, the skillful fisher, and said, Well, my brother, I see you go to the sea every day with your fishing rod in your hand, and when you return you come laden with fish. And as for me it is my pleasure to take my bow and arrow and to hunt the wild animals up the mountains and down in the valleys. For a long time we have each followed our favorite occupation, so that now we must both be tired, you of your fishing, and I of my hunting. Would it not be wise for us to make a change? Will you try hunting in the mountains, and I will go and fish in the sea? The skillful fisher listened in silence to his brother, and for a moment was thoughtful, but at last he answered. Oh, yes, why not? Your idea is not a bad one at all. Give me your bow and arrow, and I will set out at once for the mountains and hunt for game. So the matter was settled by this talk, and the two brothers each started out to try the other's occupation, little dreaming of all that would happen. It was very unwise of them, for the happy hunter knew nothing of fishing, and the skillful fisher, who was bad tempered, knew as much about hunting. The happy hunter took his brother's much prized fishing-hook and rod, and went down to the seashore and sat down on the rocks. He baited his hook, and then threw it into the sea clumsily. He sat and gazed at the little float bobbing up and down in the water, and longed for a good fish to come and be caught. Every time the buoy moved a little he pulled up his rod, but there was never a fish at the end of it, only the hook and the bait. If he had known how to fish properly, he would have been able to catch plenty of fish, but although he was the greatest hunter in the land, he could not help being the most bungling fisher. The whole day passed in this way while he sat on the rocks, holding the fishing rod and waiting in vain for his luck to turn. At last the day began to darken, and the evening came. Until he had caught not a single fish, drawing up his line for the last time before going home, he found that he had lost his hook without even knowing when he had dropped it. He now began to feel extremely anxious, for he knew that his brother would be angry at his having lost his hook, for it being his only one, he valued it above all other things. The happy hunter now set to work to look among the rocks and on the sand for the lost hook, and while he was searching to and fro, his brother, the skillful fisher, arrived on the scene. He had failed to find any game while hunting that day, and was not only in a bad temper, but looked fearfully cross. When he saw the happy hunter searching about on the shore, he knew that something must have gone wrong, so he said it once, What are you doing, my brother? The happy hunter went forward timidly, for he feared his brother's anger and said, Oh, my brother, I have indeed done badly. What is the matter? What have you done? As the elder brother impatiently, I have lost your precious fishing-hook. While he was still speaking, his brother stopped him and cried out fiercely, Lost my hook? It is just what I expected. For this reason, when you first proposed your plan of changing over our occupations, I was really against it, but you seemed to wish it so much that I gave in and allowed you to do as you wished. The mistake of our trying unfamiliar tasks is soon seen, and you have done badly. I will not return you your bow and arrow till you have found my hook. Look to it that you find it and return it to me quickly. The happy hunter felt that he was to blame for all that had come to pass and bore his brother's scornful scolding with humility and patience. He hunted everywhere for the hook most diligently, but it was nowhere to be found. He was at last obliged to give up all hope of finding it. He then went home, and in desperation broke his beloved sword into pieces and made five hundred hooks out of it. He took these to his angry brother and offered them to him, asking his forgiveness and begging him to accept them in the place of the one he had lost for him. It was useless. His brother would not listen to him. Much less grant his request. The happy hunter then made another five hundred hooks, and again took them to his brother, beseeching him to pardon him. Though you make a million hooks, said the skillful fisher shaking his head, they are of no use to me. I cannot forgive you unless you bring me back my own hook. Nothing would appease the anger of the skillful fisher, for he had a bad disposition and had always hated his brother because of his virtues, and now with the excuse of the lost fishing hook he planned to kill him and to usurp his place as ruler of Japan. The happy hunter knew all this full well, but he could say nothing, for being the younger he owed his elder brother obedience, so he returned to the seashore and once more began to look for the missing hook. He was much cast down, for he had lost all hope of ever finding his brother's hook now. While he stood on the beach, lost in perplexity and wondering what he had best do next, an old man suddenly appeared carrying a stick in his hand. The happy hunter afterwards remembered that he did not see from once the old man came. Neither did he know how he was there. He happened to look up and saw the old man coming towards him. You are Hohodemi, the Augustaness. Sometimes called the happy hunter, are you not? said the old man. What are you doing alone in such a place? Yes, I am he, answered the unhappy young man. Only while fishing I lost my brother's precious fishing-hook. I have hunted this shore all over, but alas, I cannot find it, and I am very troubled, for my brother won't forgive me till I restore it to him. But who are you? My name is Shiwo Zuchino Okina, and I live nearby on this shore. I am sorry to hear what misfortune has befallen you. You must indeed be anxious. But if I tell you what I think, the hook is nowhere here. It is either at the bottom of the sea or in the body of some fish who has swallowed it. And for this reason, though you spend your whole life in looking for it here, you will never find it. Then what can I do? asked the distressed man. You had better go down to Rin-gu and tell Rin-jin, the dragon-king of the sea, what your trouble is, and ask him to find the hook for you. I think that would be the best way. Your idea is a splendid one, said the happy-hunter. But I fear I cannot get to the sea-king's realm, for I have always heard that it is situated at the bottom of the sea. Oh, there will be no difficulty about your getting there, said the old man. I can soon make something for you to ride on through the sea. Thank you, said the happy-hunter. I shall be very grateful to you if you will be so kind. The old man at once set to work, and soon made a basket and offered it to the happy-hunter. He received it with joy, and taking it to the water, mounted it and prepared to start. He bade good-bye to the kind old man who had helped him so much, and told him that he would certainly reward him, as soon as he had found his hook, and could return to Japan without fear of his brother's anger. The old man pointed out the direction he must take, and told him how to reach the realm of Ringu, and watched him ride out to sea on the basket, which resembled a small boat. The happy-hunter made all the haste he could, riding on the basket which had been given him by his friend. His queer boats seemed to go through the water of its own accord, and the distance was much shorter than he expected. For in a few hours he caught sight of the gate and the roof of the Sea King's Palace, and what a large place it was, with its numberless sloping roofs and gables, its huge gateways, and its gray stone walls. He soon landed, and leaving his basket on the beach, he walked up to the large gateway. The pillars of the gate were made of beautiful red coral, and the gate itself was adorned with glittering gems of all kinds. Large katsura trees overshadowed it. Our hero had often heard of the wonders of the Sea King's Palace beneath the sea, but all the stories he had ever heard fell short of the reality which he now saw for the first time. The happy-hunter would have liked to enter the gate there and then, but he saw that it was fast closed, and also that there was no one about whom he could ask to open it for him, so he stopped to think what he should do. In the shade of the trees before the gate he noticed a well full of fresh spring water. Surely someone would come out to draw water from the well some time, he thought. Then he climbed into the tree, overhanging the well, and seated himself to rest on one of the branches, and waited for what might happen. There long he saw the huge gate swing open, and two beautiful women came out. Now the Mikoto, Augustus, had always heard that Ringu was the realm of the Dragon King under the sea, and had naturally supposed that the palace was inhabited by dragons and similar terrible creatures, so that when he saw these two lovely princesses, whose beauty would be rare even in the world from which he had just come, he was exceedingly surprised and wondered what it could mean. He said not a word, however, but silently gazed at them through the foliage of the trees, waiting to see what they would do. He saw that in their hands they carried golden buckets, slowly and gracefully in their trailing garments they approached the well, standing in the shade of the katsura trees, and were about to draw water, all unknowing of the stranger who was watching them, for the heavy hunter was quite hidden among the branches of the tree where he had posted himself. As the two ladies leaned over the side of the well to let down their golden buckets, which they did every day in the year, they saw reflected in the deep still water the face of a handsome youth gazing at them from amidst the branches of the tree in whose shade they stood. Never before had they seen the face of mortal man, they were frightened and drew back quickly with their golden buckets in their hands. Their curiosity, however, soon gave them courage, and they glanced timidly upwards to see the cause of the unusual reflection, and then they beheld the happy hunter, sitting in the tree looking down at them with surprise and admiration. They gazed at him face to face, but their tongues were still with wonder, and could not find a word to say to him. When the Mikoto saw that he was discovered, he sprang down lightly from the tree and said, I am a traveller, and as I was very thirsty I came to the well in the hopes of quenching my thirst, but I could find no bucket with which to draw the water, so I climbed into the tree much vexed, and waited for someone to come. But at that moment, while I was thirstily and impatiently waiting, you noble ladies appeared, as if in answer to my great need. Therefore I pray you of your mercy give me some water to drink, for I am a thirsty traveller in a strange land. His dignity and graciousness overruled their timidity, and bowing in silence, they both once more approached the well, and letting down their golden buckets drew up some water and poured it into a drooled cup and offered it to the stranger. He received it from them with both hands raising it to the height of his forehead in token of high respect and pleasure, and then drank the water quickly, for his thirst was great. When he had finished his long draft, he set the cup down on the edge of the well, and drawing his short sword, he cut off one of the strange curved drools, magatama, a necklace of which hung round his neck and fell over his breast. He placed the drool in the cup, and returned it to them, and said, bowing deeply, This is a token of my thanks. The two ladies took the cup, and looking into it to see what he had put inside, for they did not yet know what it was. They gave a start of surprise, for there lay a beautiful gem at the bottom of the cup. No ordinary mortal would give away a jewel so freely. Will you not honor us by telling us who you are? said the elder damsel. Certainly, said the happy hunter, I am Hoho Temi, the fourth Mikoto, also called in Japan the happy hunter. Are you indeed Hoho Temi, the grandson of Amaterasu, the sun goddess? As the damsel who had spoken first. I am the eldest daughter of Rinjin. The king of the sea, and my name is Princess Tayotama. And, said the younger maiden, who at last found her tongue, I am her sister, the princess Tamayori. Are you indeed the daughters of Rinjin, the king of the sea? I cannot tell you how glad I am to meet you, said the happy hunter, and without waiting for them to reply, he went on. The other day I went fishing with my brother's hook and dropped it. How? I am sure I can't tell. As my brother prizes his fishing hook above all his other possessions, this is certainly the greatest calamity that could have befallen me. Unless I find it again, I can never hope to win my brother's forgiveness, for he is very angry at what I have done. I have searched for it many, many times, but I cannot find it. Therefore I am much troubled. While I was hunting for the hook in great distress, I met a wise old man, and he told me that the best thing I could do was to come to Rin-gu and to Rin-jin, the dragon king of the sea, and ask him to help me. This kind old man also showed me how to come. Now you know how it is I am here and why. I want to ask Rin-jin if he knows where the lost hook is. Will you be so kind as to take me to your father? And do you think he will see me? asked the happy hunter, anxiously. Princess Tayotama listened to this long story and then said, Not only is it easy for you to see my father, but he will be much pleased to meet you. I am sure he will say that good fortune has befallen him. That so great and noble a man as you, the grandson of Amaterasu, should come down to the bottom of the sea. And then, turning to her younger sister, she said, Do you not think so, Tamayori? Yes, indeed, answered the Princess Tamayori in her sweet voice. As you say, we can know no greater honour than to welcome the Mikoto to our home. Then I ask you to be so kind as to lead the way, said the happy hunter. Come descend to enter Mikoto, Augustus, said both the sisters, and bowing low they led him through the gate. The younger Princess left her sister to take charge of the happy hunter, and going faster than they, she reached the Sea King's palace first, and running quickly to her father's room, she told him of all that had happened to them at the gate, and that her sister was even now bringing the Augustus to him. The dragon king of the sea was much surprised at the news, for it was but seldom, perhaps only once in several hundred years, that the Sea King's palace was visited by mortals. Rinjin at once clapped his hands and summoned all his courtiers and the servants of the palace, and the chief fish of the sea together, and solemnly told them that the grandson of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu, was coming to the palace, and that they must be very ceremonious and polite in serving the Augustus visitor. He then ordered them all to the entrance of the palace to welcome the happy hunter. Rinjin then dressed himself in his robes of ceremony, and went out to welcome him. In a few moments the Princess, Toyotama, and the happy hunter reached the entrance, and the Sea King and his wife bowed to the ground, and thanked him for the honor he did them in coming to see them. The Sea King then led the happy hunter to the guest room, and placing him in the uppermost seat, he bowed respectfully before him and said, I am Rinjin, the dragon king of the sea, and this is my wife. Condescend to remember us forever. Are you indeed Rinjin, the king of the sea, of whom I have so often heard? answered the happy hunter, saluting his host most ceremoniously. I must apologize for all the trouble I am giving you by my unexpected visit, and he bowed again and thanked the Sea King. You need not thank me, said Rinjin. It is I who must thank you for coming. Although the sea palace is a poor place as you see, I shall be highly honored if you will make us a long visit. There was much gladness between the Sea King and the happy hunter, and they sat and talked for a long time. At last the Sea King clapped his hands, and then a huge retinue of fishes appeared, all robed in ceremonial garments, and burying in their fins various trays, on which all kinds of sea delicacies were served. A great feast was now spread before the king and his royal guest. All the fishes and waiting were chosen from amongst the finest fish in the sea, so you can imagine what a wonderful array of sea creatures it was that waited upon the happy hunter that day. All in the palace tried to do their best to please him, and to show him that he was a much honored guest. During the long repast which lasted for hours, Rinjin commanded his daughters to play some music, and the two princesses came in and performed on the koto, the Japanese harp, and sang and danced in turns. The time passed so pleasantly that the happy hunter seemed to forget his trouble in why he had come at all to the Sea King's realm, and he gave himself up to the enjoyment of this wonderful place, the land of fairy fishes. Who has ever heard of such a marvelous place? But the Mikoto soon remembered what had brought him to Ringu, and said to his host, Perhaps your daughters have told you, King Rinjin, that I have come here to try and recover my brother's fishing-hook, which I lost while fishing the other day. May I ask you to be so kind as to inquire of all your subjects, if any of them have seen a fishing-hook lost in the sea? Certainly, said the obliging Sea King, I will immediately summon them all here and ask them. As soon as he had issued his command, the octopus, the cuttlefish, the bonito, the oxtail fish, the eel, the jellyfish, the shrimp, and the place, and many other fishes of all kinds, came in and sat down before Rinjin, their king, and arranged themselves and their fins in order. Then the Sea King said solemnly, Our visitor, who is sitting before you all, is the august grandson of Amaterasu. His name is Hoho Demi, the fourth augustness, and he is also called the happy hunter of the mountains. While he was fishing the other day upon the shore of Japan, someone robbed him of his brother's fishing-hook. He has come all this way down to the bottom of the sea to our kingdom, because he thought that one of you fishes may have taken the hook from him in mischievous play. If any of you have done so, you must immediately return it, or if any of you know who the thief is, you must at once tell us his name and where he is now. All the fishes were taken by surprise when they heard these words, and could say nothing for some time. They sat looking at each other and at the dragon king. At last the cuttlefish came forward and said, I think the tie, the red bream must be the thief who has stolen the hook. Where is your proof? asked the king. Since yesterday evening the tie has not been able to eat anything, and he seems to be suffering from a bad throat. For this reason I think the hook may be in his throat. You had better send for him at once. All the fish agreed to this and said, It is certainly strange that the tie is the only fish who has not obeyed your summons. Will you send for him an inquire into the matter? Then our innocence will be proved. Yes, said the sea king, it is strange that the tie has not come. For he ought to be the first to be here. Send for him at once. Without waiting for the king's order the cuttlefish had already started for the tie's dwelling, and he now returned, bringing the tie with him. He led him before the king. The tie sat there looking frightened and ill. He certainly was in pain, for his usually red face was pale, and his eyes were nearly closed, and looked but half their usual size. Answer, oh tie! cried the sea king. Why did you not come and answer to my summons today? I have been ill since yesterday! answered the tie. That is why I could not come. Don't say another word, cried out ring in angrily. Your illness is the punishment of the gods for stealing the Mikoto's hook. It is only too true, said the tie. The hook is still in my throat, and all my efforts to get it out have been useless. I can't eat, and I can scarcely breathe, and each moment I feel that it will choke me, and sometimes it gives me great pain. I had no intention of stealing the Mikoto's hook. I heedlessly snapped at the bait, which I saw in the water, and the hook came off, and stuck in my throat. So I hope you will pardon me. The cuttlefish now came forward and said to the king, What I said was right. You see, the hook still sticks in that tie's throat. I hope to be able to pull it out in the pretense of the Mikoto, and then we can return it to him safely. Oh, please, make haste and pull it out! cried the tie pitifully, for he felt the pains in his throat coming on again. I do so want to return the hook to the Mikoto. All right, Taisan, said his friend the cuttlefish, and then opening the tie's mouth as wide as he could, and putting one of his feelers down the tie's throat, he quickly and easily drew the hook out of the sufferer's large mouth. He then washed it and brought it to the king. Rinjin took the hook from his subject, and then respectfully returned it to the happy hunter, the Mikoto, or Augustus, the fishes called him, who was overjoyed at getting back his hook. He thanked Rinjin many times, his face beaming with gratitude, and said that he owed the happy ending of his quest to the sea king's wise authority and kindness. Rinjin now desired to punish the tie, but the happy hunter begged him not to do so, since his lost hook was thus happily recovered. He did not wish to make more trouble for the poor tie. It was indeed the tie who had taken the hook, but he had already suffered enough for his fault, if fault it could be called. What had been done was done in heedlessness and not by intention. The happy hunter said he blamed himself. If he understood how to fish properly, he would never have lost his hook, and therefore all this trouble had been caused in the first place by his trying to do something which he did not know how to do. So he begged the sea king to forgive his subject. Who could resist the pleading of so wise and compassionate a judge? Rinjin forgave his subject at once at the request of his August guest. The tie was so glad that he shook his fins for joy, and he and all the other fish went out from the pretense of their king, praising the virtues of the happy hunter. Now that the hook was found, the happy hunter had nothing to keep him in Ringu, and he was anxious to get back to his own kingdom and to make peace with his angry brother the skillful fisher. But the sea king, who had learned to love him, and would feign have kept him as a son, begged him not to go so soon, but to make the sea palace his home as long as ever he liked. While the happy hunter was still hesitating, the two lovely princesses, Tayotama and Tamayori, came, and with the sweetest of bows and voices, joined with their father in pressing him to stay, so that without seeming ungracious, he could not say them nay, and was obliged to stay on for some time. Between the sea realm and the earth there was no difference in the night of time, and the happy hunter found that three years went fleeting quickly by in this delightful land. The years passed swiftly when anyone is truly happy, but though the wonders of that enchanted land seemed to be new every day, and though the sea king's kindness seemed rather to increase, than to grow less with time, the happy hunter grew more and more homesick as the days passed, and he could not repress a great anxiety to know what had happened to his home, and his country, and his brother while he had been away. So at last he went to the sea king and said, My stay with you here has been most happy, and I am grateful to you for all your kindness to me, but I govern Japan, and, delightful as this place is, I cannot absent myself forever from my country. I must also return the fishing-hook to my brother, and ask his forgiveness for having deprived him of it for so long. I am indeed very sorry to part from you, but this time it cannot be helped. With your gracious permission I will take my leave to-day. I hope to make you another visit some day. Please give up the idea of my stay longer now. King Rinjin was overcome with sorrow with the thought that he must lose his friend, who had made a great diversion in the palace of the sea, and his tears fell fast as he answered. We are indeed very sorry to part with you, Mikoto, for we have enjoyed your stay with us very much. You have been a noble and honoured guest, and we have heartily made you welcome. I quite understand that as you govern Japan you ought to be there and not here, and that it is vain for us to try and keep you longer with us, much as we would like to have you stay. I hope you will not forget us. Strange circumstances have brought us together, and I trust the friendship thus begun between the land and the sea will last and grow stronger than it has ever been before. When the sea king had finished speaking, he turned to his two daughters, and bade them bring him the two tide jewels of the sea. The two princesses bowed low, rose and glided out of the hall. In a few minutes they returned, each one carrying in her hands a flashing gem which filled the room with light. As the happy hunter looked at them, he wondered what they could be. The sea king took them from his daughters and said to his guest, These two valuable talismans we have inherited from our ancestors from time immemorial. We now give them to you as a parting gift in token of our great affection for you. These two gems are called the Nanjiu and the Kanjiu. The happy hunter bowed low to the ground and said, I can never thank you enough for all your kindness to me, and will you add one more favor to the rest and tell me what these jewels are and what I am to do with them? The Nanjiu, answered the sea king, is also called the jewel of the flood tide, and whoever holds it in his possession can command the sea to roll in and flood the land at any time that he wills. The Kanjiu is also called the jewel of the ebbing tide, and this gem controls the sea and the waves thereof, and will cause even a tidal wave to recede. Then Rinjin showed his friend how to use the talismans one by one and handed them to him. The happy hunter was very glad to have these two wonderful gems, the jewel of the flood tide, and the jewel of the ebbing tide, to take back with him, for he felt that they would preserve him in case of danger from enemies at any time. After thanking his host again and again he prepared to depart. The sea king and the two princesses, Tayotama and Tamayori, and all the inmates of the palace came out to say goodbye, and before the sound of the last farewell had died away, the happy hunter passed out from under the gateway, passed the well of happy memory, standing in the shade of the great katsura trees on his way to the beach. Here he found, instead of the queer basket on which he had come to the realm of Ringu, a large crocodile waited for him. Never had he seen such a huge creature. It measured eight fathoms in length, from the tip of its tail to the end of its long mouth. The sea king had ordered the monster to carry the happy hunter back to Japan. Like the wonderful basket which Ciro Zuchino Okina had made, it could travel faster than any steamboat, and in this strange way, riding on the back of a crocodile, the happy hunter returned to his own land. As soon as the crocodile landed him, the happy hunter hastened to tell the skillful fisher of his safe return. He then gave him back the fishing hook, which had been found in the mouth of the Tai, and which had been the cause of so much trouble between them. He earnestly begged his brother's forgiveness, telling him all that had happened to him in the sea king's palace, and what wonderful adventures had led to the finding of the hook. Now the skillful fisher had used the lost hook as an excuse for driving his brother out of the country. When his brother had left him that day three years ago, and had not returned, he had been very glad in his evil heart, and had at once usurped his brother's place as a ruler of the land, and had become powerful and rich. Now in the midst of enjoying what did not belong to him, and hoping that his brother might never return to claim his rights, quite unexpectedly there stood the happy hunter before him. The skillful fisher feigned forgiveness, for he could make no more excuses for sending his brother away again. But in his heart he was very angry and hated his brother more and more, till at last he could no longer bear the sight of him day after day, and planned and watched for an opportunity to kill him. One day when the happy hunter was walking in the rice fields, his brother followed him with a dagger. The happy hunter knew that his brother was following him to kill him, and he felt that now, in this hour of great danger, was the time to use the jewels of the flow and ebb of the tide, and prove whether what the sea king had told him was true or not. So he took out the jewel of the flood tide from the bosom of his dress, and raised it to his forehead. Instantly over the fields and over the farms the sea came rolling in wave upon wave till it reached the spot where his brother was standing. The skillful fisher stood amazed and terrified to see what was happening. In another minute he was struggling in the water and calling on his brother to save him from drowning. The happy hunter had a kind heart and could not bear the sight of his brother's distress. He had once put back the jewel of the flood tide, and took out the jewel of the ebb tide. No sooner did he hold it up as high as his forehead, than the sea ran back and back, and ere long the tossing rolling floods had vanished, and the farms and fields and dry land appeared as before. The skillful fisher was very frightened at the peril of death in which he had stood, and was greatly impressed by the wonderful things he had seen his brother do. He learned now that he was making a fatal mistake to set himself against his brother, younger than he thought he was. For he now had become so powerful that the sea would flow in in the tide ebb at his word of command. So he humbled himself before the happy hunter, and asked him to forgive him all the wrong he had done him. The skillful fisher promised to restore his brother to his rights, and also swore that though the happy hunter was the younger brother, and owed him allegiance by right of birth, that he, the skillful fisher, would exalt him as his superior and bow before him as Lord of all Japan. Then the happy hunter said that he would forgive his brother if he would throw into the receding tide all his evil ways. The skillful fisher promised, and there was peace between the two brothers. From this time he kept his word and became a good man and a kind brother. The happy hunter now ruled his kingdom without being disturbed by family strife, and there was peace in Japan for a long, long time. Above all the treasures in his house, he prized the wonderful jewels of the flow and ebb of the tide, which had been given him by Rinjin, the dragon king of the sea. This is the congratulatory ending of the happy hunter and the skillful fisher. End of Chapter 13. The happy hunter and the skillful fisher. Recording by Scott Robbins. Chapter 14 of Japanese Fairy Tales This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Carol Good. Japanese Fairy Tales by Ye Theodora Ozaki. Chapter 14. The Story of the Old Man Who Made Withered Trees to Flower Long, long ago there lived an old man and his wife who supported themselves by cultivating a small plot of land. Their life had been a very happy and peaceful one, save for one great sorrow, and this was they had no child. Their only pet was a dog named Shiro, and on him they lavished all the affection of their old age. Indeed they loved him so much that whenever they had anything nice to eat, they denied themselves to give it to Shiro. Now Shiro means white, and he was so called because of his color. He was a real Japanese dog, and very like a small wolf in appearance. The happiest hour of the day, both for the old man and his dog, was when the man returned from his work in the field, and having finished his frugal supper of rice and vegetables, would take what he had saved from the meal out to the little veranda that ran round the cottage. Sure enough, Shiro was waiting for his master and the evening tidbit. Then the old man said, Chin, Chin, and Shiro sat up and begged, and his master gave him the food. Next door to this good old couple there lived another old man and his wife, who were both wicked and cruel, and who hated their good neighbors and the dog Shiro with all their might. Whenever Shiro looked into their kitchen, they at once kicked him or threw something at him, sometimes even wounding him. One day Shiro was heard barking for a long time in the field at the back of his master's house. The old man, thinking that perhaps some birds were attacking the corn, hurried out to see what was the matter. As soon as Shiro saw his master, he ran to meet him, wagging his tail, and, seizing the end of his kimono, dragged him under the large Yanoke tree. Here he began to dig very industriously with his paws, yelping with joy all the time. The old man, unable to understand what it all meant, stood looking on in bewilderment. But Shiro went on barking and digging with all his might. The thought that something might be hidden beneath the tree, and that the dog had scented it, at last struck the old man. He ran back to the house, fetched his spade, and began to dig the ground at that spot. What was his astonishment when, after digging for some time, he came upon a heap of old and valuable coins, and the deeper he dug, the more gold coins did he find. So intent was the old man on his work that he never saw the cross face of his neighbor peering at him through the bamboo hedge. At last all the gold coins lay shining on the ground. Shiro sat by, erect with pride and looking fondly at his master, as if to say, You see, though only a dog, I can make some return for all the kindness you show me. The old man ran in to call his wife, and together they carried home the treasure. Thus in one day the poor old man became rich. His gratitude to the faithful dog knew no bounds, and he loved and petted him more than ever, if that were possible. The cross old neighbor attracted by Shiro's barking had been an unseen and envious witness of the finding of the treasure. He began to think that he too would like to find a fortune. So a few days later he called at the old man's house and very ceremoniously asked permission to borrow Shiro for a short time. Shiro's master thought this a strange request, because he knew quite well that not only did his neighbor not love his pet dog, but that he never lost an opportunity of striking and tormenting him whenever the dog crossed his path. But the good old man was too kind-hearted to refuse his neighbor, so he consented to lend the dog, on condition that he should be taken great care of. The wicked old man returned to his home with an evil smile on his face and told his wife how he had succeeded in his crafty intentions. He then took his spade and hastened to his own field, forcing the unwilling Shiro to follow him. As soon as he reached a yinoki tree he said to the dog threateningly, If there are gold coins under your master's tree there must also be gold coins under my tree. You must find them for me. Where are they? Where? Where? And catching hold of Shiro's neck he held the dog's head to the ground so that Shiro began to scratch and dig in order to free himself from the horrid old man's grasp. The old man was very pleased when he saw the dog begin to scratch and dig, for he at once supposed that some gold coins lay buried under this tree as well as under his neighbors, and that the dog had scented them as before. So pushing Shiro away he began to dig himself, but there was nothing to be found. As he went on digging a foul smell was noticeable, and he at last came upon a refuse heap. The old man's disgust can be imagined. This soon gave way to anger. He had seen his neighbor's good fortune and hoping for the same luck himself had borrowed the dog Shiro, and now just as he seemed on the point of finding what he sought only a horrid smelling refuse heap had rewarded him for a morning's digging. Instead of blaming his own greed for his disappointment he blamed the poor dog. He seized his spade and with all his strength struck Shiro and killed him on the spot. He then threw the dog's body into the hole which he had dug in the hope of finding a treasure of gold coins and covered it over with the earth. Then he returned to the house telling no one, not even his wife, what he had done. After waiting several days as the dog Shiro did not return his master began to grow anxious. Day after day went by and the good old man waited in vain. Then he went to his neighbor and asked him to give him back his dog. Without any shame or hesitation the wicked neighbor answered that he had killed Shiro because of his bad behavior. At this dreadful news Shiro's master wept many sad and bitter tears. Great indeed was his woeful surprise but he was too good and gentle to reproach his bad neighbor. Learning that Shiro was buried under the Yanoke tree in the field he asked the old man to give him the tree in remembrance of his poor dog Shiro. Even the cross old neighbor could not refuse such a simple request so he consented to give the old man the tree under which Shiro lay buried. Shiro's master then cut the tree down and carried it home. Out of the trunk he made a mortar. In this his wife put some rice and he began to pound it with the intention of making a festival to the memory of his dog Shiro. A strange thing happened. His wife put the rice into the mortar and no sooner had he begun to pound it to make the cakes then it began to increase in quantity gradually till it was about five times the original amount and the cakes were turned out of the mortar as if an invisible hand were at work. When the old man and his wife saw this they understood that it was a reward to them from Shiro for their faithful love to him. They tested the cakes and found them nicer than any other food. So from this time they never troubled about food for they lived upon the cakes with which the mortar never ceased to supply them. The greedy neighbor hearing of this new piece of good luck was filled with envy as before and called on the old man and asked leave to borrow the wonderful mortar for a short time pretending that he too sorrowed for the death of Shiro and wished to make cakes for a festival to the dog's memory. The old man did not in the least wish to lend it to his cruel neighbor but he was too kind to refuse so the envious man carried home the mortar but he never brought it back. Several days passed and Shiro's master waited in vain for the mortar so he went to call on the borrower and asked him to be good enough to return the mortar if he had finished with it. He found him sitting by a big fire made of pieces of wood. On the ground lay what looked very much like pieces of a broken mortar. In answer to the old man's inquiry the wicked neighbor answered haughtily have you come to ask me for your mortar? I broke it to pieces and now I am making a fire of the wood for when I tried to pound cakes in it only some horrid smelling stuff came out. The good old man said I am very sorry for that. It is a great pity that you did not ask me for the cakes if you wanted them. I would have given you as many as ever you wanted. Now please give me the ashes of the mortar as I wish to keep them in remembrance of my dog. The neighbor consented at once and the old man carried home a basket full of ashes. Not long after this the old man accidentally scattered some of the ashes made by the burning of the mortar on the trees of his garden. A wonderful thing happened. It was late in autumn and all the trees had shed their leaves but no sooner did the ashes touch their branches than the cherry trees, the plum trees and all other blossoming shrubs burst into bloom so that the old man's garden was suddenly transformed into a beautiful picture of spring. The old man's delight knew no bounds and he carefully preserved the remaining ashes. The story of the old man's garden spread far and wide and people from far and near came to see the wonderful sight. One day soon after this the old man heard someone knocking at his door and going to the porch to see who it was he was surprised to see a night standing there. This night told him that he was a retainer of a great daimio, Earl, that one of the favorite cherry trees in this nobleman's garden had withered and that though everyone in his service had tried all manners of means to revive it, none took effect. The night was sore perplexed when he saw what great displeasure the loss of his favorite cherry tree caused the daimio. At this point fortunately they had heard that there was a wonderful old man who could make withered trees to blossom and that his lord had sent him to ask the old man to come to him. And, added the night, I shall be very much obliged if you will come at once. The good old man was greatly surprised at what he heard but respectfully followed the night to the nobleman's palace. The daimio, who had been impatiently awaiting the old man's coming as soon as he saw him, asked him at once, are you the old man who can make withered trees flower even out of season? The old man made an obeisance and replied, I am that old man. Then the daimio said, you must make that dead cherry tree in my garden blossom again by means of your famous ashes. I shall look on. Then they all went into the garden, the daimio and his retainers and the ladies in waiting who carried the daimio's sword. The old man now tucked up his kimono and made ready to climb the tree saying, excuse me, he took the pot of ashes which he had brought with him and began to climb the tree, everyone watching his movements with great interest. At last he climbed to the spot where the tree divided into two great branches and taking up his position here the old man sat down and scattered the ashes right and left all over the branches and twigs. Wonderful indeed was the result. The withered tree at once burst into full bloom. The daimio was so transported with joy that he looked as if he would go mad. He rose to his feet and spread out his fan calling the old man down from the tree. He himself gave the old man a wine cup filled with the best sake and rewarded him with much silver and gold and many other precious things. The daimio ordered that henceforth the old man should call himself by the name of Hanasaka-jiji or the old man who makes the trees to blossom and that henceforth all were to recognize him by this name and he sent him home with great honor. The wicked neighbor as before heard of the good old man's fortune and of all that had so auspiciously befallen him and he could not suppress all the envy and jealousy that filled his heart. He called to mind how he had failed in his attempt to find the gold coins and then in making the magic cakes. This time surely he must succeed if he imitated the old man who made withered trees to flower simply by sprinkling ashes on them. This would be the simplest task of all. So he set to work and gathered together all the ashes which remained in the fireplace from the burning of the wonderful mortar. Then he set out in the hope of finding some great man to employ him calling out loudly as he went. Here comes the wonderful man who could make withered trees blossom. Here comes the old man who can make dead trees blossom. The daimio in his palace heard this cry and said, That must be the Hanasaka-jiji passing. I have nothing to do today. Let him try his art again. It will amuse me to look on. So the retainers went out and brought in the imposter before their lord. The satisfaction of the false old man can now be imagined. But the daimio, looking at him, thought it strange that he was not at all like the old man he had seen before. So he asked him, Are you the man whom I named Hanasaka-jiji? And the envious neighbor answered with a lie. Yes, my lord. That is strange, said the daimio. I thought there was only one Hanasaka-jiji in the world. Has he now some disciples? I am the true Hanasaka-jiji. The one who came to you before was only my disciple, replied the old man. Then you must be more skillful than the other. Try what you can do and let me see. The envious neighbor, with the daimio and his court following, then went into the garden, and approaching a dead tree, took out a handful of the ashes which he carried with him, and scattered them over the tree. But not only did the tree not burst into flower, but not even a bud came forth. Thinking that he had not used enough ashes, the old man took handfuls and again sprinkled them over the withered tree. But all to no effect. After trying several times the ashes were blown into the daimio's eyes. This made him very angry, and he ordered his retainers to arrest the false Hanasaka-jiji at once, and put him in prison for an imposter. From this imprisonment the wicked old man was never freed. Thus did he meet with punishment at last for all his evil doings. The good old man, however, with the treasure of gold coins which Shiro had found for him, and with all the gold and silver which the daimio had showered on him, became a rich and prosperous man in his old age, and lived a long and happy life, beloved and respected by all. Chapter 15 The Jellyfish and the Monkey Long, long ago in old Japan the kingdom of the sea was governed by a wonderful king. He was called Rinjin, or the Dragon King of the sea. His power was immense, for he was ruler of all sea creatures both great and small, and in his keeping were the jewels of the ebb and flow of the tide. The jewel of the ebbing tide, when thrown into the ocean, caused the sea to recede from the land, and the jewel of the flowing tide made the waves to rise mountains high and to flow in upon the shore like a tidal wave. The palace of Rinjin was at the bottom of the sea, and was so beautiful that no one has ever seen anything like it, even in dreams. The walls were of coral, the roof of jade stone, and chrysopraise, and the floors were of the finest mother of pearl. But the Dragon King, in spite of his widespreading kingdom, his beautiful palace, and all its wonders, and his power which none disputed throughout the whole sea, was not at all happy, for he reigned alone. At last he thought that if he married, he would not only be happier, but also more powerful. So he decided to take a wife. Calling all his fish retainers together, he chose several of them as ambassadors to go through the sea, and seek for a young Dragon Princess, who would be his bride. At last they returned to the palace, bringing with them a lovely young dragon. Her scales were of glittering green like the wings of summer beetles. Her eyes threw out glances of fire, and she was dressed in gorgeous robes. All the jewels of the sea worked in with embroidery adorned them. The King fell in love with her at once, and the wedding ceremony was celebrated with great splendor. Every living thing in the sea, from the great whales down to the little shrimps, came in shoals to offer their congratulations to the bride and bridegroom, and to wish them a long and prosperous life. Never had there been such an assemblage or such gay festivities in the fish world before. The train of bearers who carried the bride's possessions to her new home seemed to reach across the waves from one end of the sea to the other. Each fish carried a phosphorescent lantern, and was dressed in ceremonial robes, gleaming blue and pink and silver. And the waves, as they rose and fell and broke that night, seemed to be rolling masses of white and green fire, for the phosphorous shone with double brilliancy in honour of the event. Now for a time the Dragon King and his bride lived very happily. They loved each other dearly, and the bridegroom day after day took delight in showing his bride all the wonders and treasures of his coral palace. And she was never tired of wandering with him through its vast halls and gardens. Life seemed to them both like a long summer's day. Two months passed in this happy way, and then the Dragon Queen fell ill and was obliged to stay in bed. The King was sorely troubled when he saw his precious bride so ill, and at once sent for the fish-doctor to come, and give her some medicine. He gave special orders to the servants to nurse her carefully, and to wait upon her with diligence. But in spite of all the nurse's assiduous care, and the medicine that the doctor prescribed, the young Queen showed no signs of recovery, but grew daily worse. Then the Dragon King interviewed the doctor and blamed him for not curing the Queen. The doctor was alarmed at Ringen's evident displeasure, and excused his want of skill by saying that although he knew the right kind of medicine to give the invalid, it was impossible to find it in the sea. Do you mean to tell me that you can't get the medicine here? asked the Dragon King. It is just as you say, said the doctor. Tell me what it is you want for the Queen, demanded Ringen. I want the liver of a live monkey, answered the doctor. The liver of a live monkey. Of course that will be most difficult to get, said the King. If we could only get that for the Queen, her majesty would soon recover, said the doctor. Very well, that decides it. We must get it somehow or other. But where are we most likely to find a monkey, asked the King. Then the doctor told the Dragon King that some distance to the south there was a monkey island where a great many monkeys lived. If only you could capture one of these monkeys, said the doctor. How can any of my people capture a monkey, said the Dragon King, greatly puzzled? The monkeys live on dry land, while we live in the water. And out of our element we are quite powerless. I don't see what we can do. That has been my difficulty, too, said the doctor. But amongst your innumerable servants you surely can find one who can go on shore for that express purpose. Nothing must be done, said the King, and calling his chief steward, he consulted him on the matter. The chief steward's thought for some time, and then, as if struck by his son thought, said joyfully, I know what we must do. There is the kuragi, jellyfish. He is certainly ugly to look at, but he is proud of being able to walk on land with his four legs like a tortoise. Let us send him to the island of monkeys to catch one. The jellyfish was then summoned to the King's presence, and was told by his majesty what was required of him. The jellyfish, unbeen told of the unexpected mission, which was to be entrusted to him, looked very troubled, and said that he had never been to the island in question. And as he had never had any experience in catching monkeys, he was afraid that he would not be able to get one. Well, said the chief steward, if you depend on your strength or dexterity, you will never catch a monkey. The only way is to play a trick on one. How can I play a trick on a monkey? I don't know how to do it, said the perplexed jellyfish. This is what you must do, said the wily chief steward. When you approach the island of monkeys and meet some of them, you must try to get very friendly with one. Tell him that you are a servant of the dragon king, and invite him to come and visit you and see the dragon king's palace. Try and describe it to him as vividly as you can, the grandeur of the palace and the wonders of the sea so as to arouse his curiosity and make him long to see it all. But how am I to get the monkey here? You know monkeys don't swim, said the reluctant jellyfish. You must carry him on your back. What is the use of your shell if you can't do that? said the chief steward. Won't he be very heavy? queered Karage again. You mustn't mind that, for you are working for the dragon king, replied the chief steward. I will do my best then, said the jellyfish, and he swam away from the palace and started off towards the monkey island. Swimming swiftly he reached his destination in a few hours and landed by a convenient wave upon the shore. On looking round he saw not far away a big pine tree with drooping branches, and on one of those branches was just what he was looking for, a live monkey. I'm in luck, thought the jellyfish. Now I must flatter the creature and try to entice him to come back with me to the palace, and my part will be done. So the jellyfish slowly walked towards the pine tree. In those ancient days the jellyfish had four legs and a hard shell like a tortoise. When he got to the pine tree he raised his voice and said, How do you do, Mr. Monkey? Isn't it a lovely day? A very fine day, answered the monkey from the tree. I have never seen you in this part of the world before. Where have you come from and what is your name? My name is Gurage, or jellyfish. I am one of the servants of the dragon king. I have heard so much of your beautiful island that I have come on purpose to see it, answered the jellyfish. I am very glad to see you, said the monkey. By the by, said the jellyfish, have you ever seen the palace of the dragon king of the sea where I live? I have often heard of it, but I have never seen it, answered the monkey. Then you ought most sure late to come. It is a great pity for you to go through life without seeing it. The beauty of the palace is beyond all description. It is certainly, to my mind, the most lovely place in the world, said the jellyfish. Is it so beautiful as all that? asked the monkey in astonishment. Then the jellyfish saw his chance, and went on describing to the best of his ability the beauty and grandeur of the sea king's palace, and the wonders of the garden with its curious trees of white, pink, and red coral, and the still more curious fruits like great jewels hanging on the branches. The monkey grew more and more interested, and as he listened he came down the trees step by step, so as not to lose a word of the wonderful story. I have got him at last, thought the jellyfish, but aloud he said, Mr. Monkey, I must now go back, as you have never seen the palace of the dragon king. Won't you avail yourself of this landed opportunity by coming with me? I shall then be able to act as guide and show you all the sights of the sea, which will be even more wonderful to you, a land-lubber. I should love to go, said the monkey, but how am I to cross the water? I can't swim as you surely know. There is no difficulty about that. I can carry you on my back. That will be troubling you too much, said the monkey. I can do it quite easily. I am stronger than I look, so you needn't hesitate, said the jellyfish, and taking the monkey on his back he stepped into the sea. Keep very still, Mr. Monkey, said the jellyfish. You mustn't fall into the sea. I am responsible for your safe arrival at the king's palace. Please don't go so fast, or I am sure I shall fall off, said the monkey. Thus they went along, the jellyfish skimming through the waves with the monkeys sitting on his back. When they were about halfway, the jellyfish, who knew very little of anatomy, began to wonder if the monkey had his liver with him or not. Mr. Monkey, tell me, have you such a thing as a liver with you? The monkey was very much surprised at this queer question and asked what the jellyfish wanted with a liver. That is the most important thing of all, said the stupid jellyfish, so as soon as I recollected it I asked you if you had yours with you. Why is my liver so important to you? asked the monkey. Oh, you will learn the reason later, said the jellyfish. The monkey grew more and more curious and suspicious and urged the jellyfish to tell him for what his liver was wanted and ended up by appealing to his hearer's feelings by saying that he was very troubled at what he had been told. Then the jellyfish, seeing how anxious the monkey looked, was sorry for him and told him everything, how the dragon queen had fallen ill and how the doctor had said that only the liver of a live monkey would cure her and how the dragon king had sent him to find one. Now I have done as I was told and as soon as we arrive at the palace the doctor will want your liver, so I feel sorry for you, said the silly jellyfish. The poor monkey was horrified when he learned all this and very angry at the trick played upon him. He trembled with fear at the thought of what was in store for him. But the monkey was a clever animal, and he thought at the wisest plan not to show any sign of the fear he felt, so he tried to calm himself and to think of some way by which he might escape. The doctor means to cut me open, then take my liver out, why I shall die, thought the monkey. At last a bright thought struck him, so he said quite cheerfully to the jellyfish. What a pity it was, Mr. Jellyfish, that you did not speak of this before we left the island. If I had told why I wanted you to accompany me you would certainly have refused to come, answered the jellyfish. You are quite mistaken, said the monkey. Monkeys can very well spare a liver or two, especially when it is wanted for the dragon queen of the sea. If I had only guessed of what you were in need I should have presented you with one without waiting to be asked. I have several livers, but the greatest pity is that as you did not speak in time I have left all my livers hanging on the pine tree. Have you left your liver behind you? asked the jellyfish. Yes, said the cunning monkey. During the daytime I usually leave my liver hanging up on the branch of a tree, as it is very much in the way when I am climbing about from tree to tree. Today listening to your interesting conversation I quite forgot it and left it behind when I came off with you. If only you had spoken in time I should have remembered it and should have brought it along with me. The jellyfish was very disappointed when I heard this, for he believed every word the monkey said. The monkey was of no good without a liver. Finally the jellyfish stopped and told the monkey so. Well, said the monkey, that is soon remedied. I am really sorry to think of all your trouble, but if you will only take me back to the place where you found me I shall soon be able to get my liver. The jellyfish did not at all like the idea of going all the way back to the island again, but the monkey assured him that if he would be so kind as to take him back he would get his very best liver and bring it with him the next time. As persuaded the jellyfish turned his course towards the monkey island once more. No sooner had the jellyfish reached the shore than the sly monkey landed and getting up into the nearest pine tree where the jellyfish had first seen him he cut several capers amongst the branches with joy at being safe home again. And then looking down at the jellyfish said, So many thanks for all the trouble you have taken. Please present my compliments to the dragon king on your return. The jellyfish wondered at this speech and the mocking tone in which it was uttered. Then he asked the monkey if it wasn't his intention to come with him at once after getting his liver. The monkey replied laughingly that he couldn't afford to lose his liver it was too precious. But remember your promise pleaded the jellyfish now very discouraged. That promise was false and anyhow it is now broken, answered the monkey. Then he began to jeer at the jellyfish and told him that he had been deceiving him the whole time, that he had no wish to lose his life which he certainly would have done had he gone on to the sea king's palace to the old doctor waiting for him instead of persuading the jellyfish to return under false pretenses. Of course I won't give you my liver but come and get it if you can, added the monkey mockingly from the tree. There was nothing for the jellyfish to do now but to repent of his stupidity and to return to the dragon king of the sea and to confess his failure. So he started sadly and slowly to swim back. The last thing he heard as he glided away leaving the island behind him was the monkey laughing at him. Meanwhile the dragon king, the doctor, the chief steward and all the servants were waiting impatiently for the return of the jellyfish. When they caught sight of him approaching the palace they hailed him with delight. They began to thank him profusely for all the trouble he had taken in going to the monkey island and then they asked him where the monkey was. Now the day of reckoning had come for the jellyfish. He quaked all over as he told his story, how he had brought the monkey halfway over the sea and then had stupidly let out the secret of his commission, how the monkey had deceived him by making him believe that he had left his liver behind him. The dragon king's wrath was great and he at once gave orders that the jellyfish was to be severely punished. The punishment was a horrible one. All the bones were to be drawn out from his living body and he was to be beaten with sticks. The poor jellyfish humiliated and horrified beyond all words, cried out for pardon, but the dragon king's order had to be obeyed. The servants of the palace, forthwith, each brought out a stick and surrounded the jellyfish, and after pulling out his bones they beat him to a flat pulp and then took him out beyond the palace gates and threw him into the water. Here he was left to suffer and repent his foolish chattering and to grow accustomed to his new state of bonelessness. From this story it is evident that in former times the jellyfish once had a shell and bones something like a tortoise, but ever since the dragon king's sentence was carried out on the ancestor of the jellyfishes, his descendants have all been soft and boneless, just as you see them today thrown up by the waves high upon the shores of Japan. CHAPTER XVI. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. JAPANESE FAIRYTAILS by Ye Theodora Ozaki. CHAPTER XVI. The Quarrel of the Monkey and the Crab. Long, long ago, one bright autumn day in Japan, it happened that a pink-faced monkey and a yellow crab were playing together along the bank of a river. As they were running about, the crab found a rice-dumpling and the monkey a persimmon seed. The crab picked up the rice-dumpling and showed it to the monkey, saying, Look what a nice thing I have found! Then the monkey held up his persimmon seed and said, I also have found something good. Look! Now though the monkey is always very fond of persimmon fruit, he had no use for the seed he had just found. The persimmon seed is as hard and unedible as a stone. He, therefore, in his greedy nature, felt very envious of the crab's nice-dumpling, and he proposed an exchange. The crab naturally did not see why he should give up his prize for a hard stone-like seed and would not consent to the monkey's proposition. Then the cunning monkey began to persuade the crab, saying, How unwise you are not to think of the future. Your rice-dumpling can be eaten now, and is certainly much bigger than my seed. But if you sow this seed in the ground, it will soon grow and become a great tree in a few years and bear an abundance of fine ripe persimmons year after year. If only I could show it to you, then, with the yellow fruit hanging on its branches. Of course, if you don't believe me, I shall sow it myself, though I am sure later on you will be very sorry that you did not take my advice. The simple-minded crab could not resist the monkey's clever persuasion. He at last gave in and consented to the monkey's proposal, and the exchange was made. The greedy monkey soon gobbled up the dumpling, and with great reluctance gave up the persimmon seed to the crab. He would have liked to keep that, too, but he was afraid of making the crab angry and of being pinched by his sharp scissor-like claws. They then separated, the monkey going home to his forest trees and the crab to his stones along the riverside. As soon as the crab reached home, he put the persimmon seed in the ground as the monkey had told him. In the following spring, the crab was delighted to see the shoot of a young tree push its way up through the ground. Each year it grew bigger, till at last it blossomed one spring, and in the following autumn bore some fine, large persimmons. Among the broad, smooth green leaves the fruit hung like golden balls, and as they ripened they mellowed to a deep orange. It was the little crab's pleasure to go out day by day and sit in the sun and put out his long eyes in the same way as a snail puts out its horn and watch the persimmons ripening to perfection. How delicious they will be to eat! he said to himself. At last one day he knew the persimmons must be quite ripe, and he wanted very much to taste one. He made several attempts to climb the tree in the vain hope of reaching one of the beautiful persimmons hanging above him, but he failed each time, for a crab's legs are not made for climbing trees, but only for running along the ground and over stones, both of which he can do most cleverly. In his dilemma he thought of his old playmate, the monkey, who he knew could climb trees better than anyone else in the world. He determined to ask the monkey to help him and set out to find him. Running crab fashion up the Stony Riverbank over the pathways into the shadowy forest, the crab at last found the monkey taking an afternoon nap in his favorite pine tree, with his tail curled tight around a branch to prevent him from falling off in his dreams. He was soon wide awake, however, when he heard himself called, and eagerly listening, to what the crab told him. When he heard that the seed which he had long ago exchanged for a rice-dumpling had grown into a tree and was now bearing good fruit, he was delighted, for he had once devised a cunning plan which would give him all the persimmons for himself. He consented to go with the crab to pick the fruit for him. When they both reached the spot, the monkey was astonished to see what a fine tree had sprung from the seed, and with what a number of ripe persimmons the branches were loaded. He quickly climbed the tree and began to pluck and eat as fast as he could one persimmon after another. Each time he chose the best and ripest he could find and went on eating till he could eat no more. Not one would he give to the poor hungry crab waiting below, and when he had finished there was little but the hard unripe fruit left. You can imagine the feelings of the poor crab after waiting patiently, for so long as he had done, for the tree to grow and the fruit to ripen, when he saw the monkey devouring all the good persimmons. He was so disappointed that he ran round and round the tree, calling to the monkey to remember his promise. The monkey at first took no notice of the crab's complaints, but at last he picked out the hardest greenest persimmon he could find and aimed it at the crab's head. The persimmon is as hard as stone when it is unripe. The monkey's missile struck home and the crab was sorely hurt by the blow. Again and again, as fast as he could pick them, the monkey pulled off the hard persimmons and threw them at the defenseless crab till he dropped dead, covered with wounds all over his body. There he lay a pitiful sight at the foot of the tree he had himself planted. When the wicked monkey saw that he had killed the crab, he ran away from the spot as fast as he could, in fear and trembling like a coward as he was. Now the crab had a son who had been playing with a friend not far from the spot, where this sad work had taken place. On the way home he came across his father dead in a most dreadful condition. His head was smashed and his shell broken in several places, and around his body lay the unripe persimmons which had done their deadly work. At this dreadful sight the poor young crab sat down and wept. But when he had wept for some time, he told himself that this crying would do no good. It was his duty to avenge his father's murder, and this he determined to do. He looked about for some clue which would lead him to discover the murderer. Looking up at the tree, he noticed that the best fruit had gone, and that all around lay bits of peel and numerous seeds strewn on the ground as well as the unripe persimmons which had evidently been thrown at his father. Then he understood that the monkey was the murderer, for he now remembered that his father had once told him the story of the rice dumpling and the persimmons seed. The young crab knew that monkeys like persimmons above all other fruit, and he felt sure that his greed for the coveted fruit had been the cause of the old crab's death. Alas! He at first thought of going to attack the monkey at once, for he burned with rage. Some thoughts, however, told him that this was useless, for the monkey was an old and cunning animal and would be hard to overcome. He must meet cunning with cunning and ask some of his friends to help him, for he knew it would be quite out of his power to kill him alone. The young crab set out at once to call on the mortar, his father's old friend, and told him of old that it happened. He besought the mortar with tears to help him avenge his father's death. The mortar was very sorry when he heard the woeful tale, and promised at once to help the young crab punish the monkey to death. He warned him that he must be very careful in what he did, for the monkey was a strong and cunning enemy. The mortar now sent to fetch the bee and the chestnut, also the crab's old friends, to consult them about the matter. In a short time the bee and the chestnut arrived. When they were told all the details of the old crab's death, and of the monkey's wickedness and greed, they both gladly consented to help the young crab in his revenge. After talking for a long time as to the ways and means of carrying out their plans, they separated, and Mr. Mortar went home with the young crab to help him bury his poor father. While all this was taking place, the monkey was congratulating himself, as the wicked often do before their punishment comes upon them, on all that he had done so neatly. He thought it quite a fine thing that he had robbed his friend of all his ripe persimmons, and then that he had killed him. Still, smile as hard as he might, he could not banish altogether the fear of the consequence should his evil deeds be discovered. If he were found out, and he told himself that this could not be for he had escaped unseen, the crab's family would be sure to bear him hatred, and seek to take revenge on him. So he would not go out, and kept himself at home for several days. He found this kind of life, however, extremely dull, accustomed as he was to the free life of the woods, and at last he said, No one knows that it was I who killed the crab. I am sure that the old thing breathed his last before I left him. Dead crabs have no mouths. Who is there to tell that I am the murderer? Since no one knows what is the use of shutting myself up and brooding over the matter, what is done cannot be undone. With this he wandered out into the crab's settlement, and crept about as slyly as possible near the crab's house, and tried to hear the neighbor's gossip round about. He wanted to find out what the crabs were saying about their chief's death, for the old crab had been the chief of the tribe. But he heard nothing, and said to himself, There are all such fools that they don't know and don't care who murdered their chief. Little did he know in his so-called Monkey's Wisdom that this seeming unconcern was part of the young crab's plan. He purposely pretended not to know who had killed his father, and also to believe that he had met his death through his own fault. By this means he could the better keep the secret revenge on the Monkey, which he was meditating. So the Monkey returned home from his walk quite content. He told himself he had nothing now to fear. One fine day when the Monkey was sitting at home he was surprised by the appearance of a messenger from the young crab. While he was wondering what this might mean, the messenger bowed before him and said, I have been sent by my master to inform you that his father died the other day in falling from a persimmon tree while trying to climb the tree after fruit. This being the seventh day is the first anniversary after his death, and my master has prepared a little festival in his father's honour and bids you come to participate in it as you are one of his best friends. My master hopes you will honour his house with your kind visit. When the Monkey heard these words he rejoiced in his inmost heart, for all his fears of being suspected were now at rest. He could not guess that a plot had just been set in motion against him. He pretended to be very surprised at the news of the crab's death and said, I am indeed very sorry to hear of your chief's death. We were great friends as you know. I remember that we once exchanged a rice dumpling for a persimmon seed. It grieves me much to think that seed was in the end the cause of his death. I accept your kind invitation with many thanks. I shall be delighted to do honour to my poor old friend. And he screwed some false tears from his eyes. The messenger laughed inwardly and thought, The wicked Monkey is now dropping false tears, but within a short time he shall shed real ones. But aloud he thanked the Monkey politely and went home. When he had gone the Monkey laughed aloud what he thought was the young crab's innocence, and without the least feeling began to look forward to the feast to be held that day in honour of the dead crab, to which he had been invited. He changed his dress and set out solemnly to visit the young crab. He found all the members of the crab's family and his relatives waiting to receive him and welcome him. As soon as the boughs of meeting were over they led him to a hall. Here the young chief mourner came to receive him. Expressions of condolence and thanks were exchanged between them, and then they all sat down to a luxurious feast and entertained the Monkey as the guest of honour. The feast over he was next invited to the tea ceremony room to drink a cup of tea. When the young crab had conducted the Monkey to the tea room he left him and retired. He came past and still he did not return. At last the Monkey became impatient. He said to himself, This tea ceremony is always a very slow affair. I am tired of waiting so long. I am very thirsty after drinking so much sake at the dinner. He then approached the charcoal fireplace and began to pour out some hot water from the kettle boiling there when something burst out from the ashes with a great pop and hit the Monkey right in the neck. It was the Chestnut, one of the crab's friends, who had hidden himself in the fireplace. The Monkey, taken by surprise, jumped backward and then started to run out of the room. The bee, who was hiding outside the screens, now flew out and stung him on the cheek. The Monkey was in great pain, his neck was burned by the Chestnut and his face badly stung by the bee, but he ran on screaming and chattering with rage. Now the stone mortar had hidden himself with several other stones on the top of the crab's gate, and as the Monkey ran underneath the mortar and hole fell down on top of the Monkey's head. Was it possible for the Monkey to bear the weight of the mortar falling on him from the top of the gate? He lay crushed and in great pain, quite unable to get up. As he lay there helpless, the young crab came up and, holding his great claw-scissors over the Monkey, he said, Do you now remember that you murdered my father? Then you are my enemy, gasped the Monkey brokenly. Of course, said the young crab. It was your father's fault, not mine, gasped the unrepentant Monkey. Can you still lie? I will soon put an end to your breath, and with that he cut off the Monkey's head with his pincher claws. Thus the wicked Monkey met his well-merited punishment, and the young crab avenged his father's death. This is the end of the story of the Monkey, the Crab, and the Persimmon Seed. End of Chapter 16 The Quarrel of the Monkey and the Crab. Recording by Scott Robbins.