 21 The two brothers, a Slovak fairytale. This is the story of Yoska and Yanko, two brothers who were as unlike each other as night is unlike day. Each was tall and straight with handsome features and thick dark locks, but while Yoska was mean and selfish, Yanko had a kindly disposition and a generous heart, and never saw a fellow creature in distress without trying to help him. Their father was very poor, and as years went on, and he saw no prospect of his circumstances mending, he thought that the time had come for one of his sons to seek his fortune. As was only to be expected, he felt that Yoska could be the better spared, so, giving him his blessing, he bade him depart. Yoska was glad to leave home, for he hated work and was an idle fellow. Now at least he thought to himself, as he set off gaily, his pockets bulging with the cakes that were his mother's parting gift, I can please myself as to when I get up. There will be no rising early in the winter time to look after the cows or feed the chickens. I can do just as I please all day. Having walked a long distance and crossed a mountain, he came to a wide prairie, shaded here and there by luxuriant trees. Seating himself under one of these, he drew out some of his cakes and gobbled them down like a greedy child. Won't you spare us a morsel kind, sir? asked two little ants, running over his hand. He shook them off roughly with an angry snarl. Not a crumb, he said, putting out his foot as though to crush them. You are not very generous, Yoska, cried the tiny creatures as they hurried out of his reach. When you want our help, you will go without it. Wait till I ask for it, was his retort, and he munched his cakes more greedily than ever. Soon after, he resumed his walk and came to the banks of the river, where a little fish lay panting on the rough earth. Won't you help me? he cried. Put me back into the river, and I will bless you, for I must perish if I stay here. Yoska's only reply was to kick it aside. Nevertheless, with a great effort, the fish managed to jump back into the stream. Cruel youth, he cried. You will never prosper. No fish will help you in your hour of need. Yoska paid no more heed to the fish than he had done to the ants, but marched straight on. By and by he reached a spot where four roads crossed, and here a group of goblins were quarrelling angrily, striking each other with puny fists, and contorting their tiny faces into queer grimaces. Without attempting to pacify them, or even to find out what was the matter, Yoska pushed them aside. This made the little men so angry that they stopped their quarrel to reproach him for his callousness. You are a selfish fellow, they squeaked, and nothing that you do will prosper. This prediction was well fulfilled, for though Yoska travelled over many countries and met men and women of all sorts and kinds, he did not succeed in making his fortune, and returned to his home as poor as he had left it. His mother, good soul, said nothing, but his father upbraided him for his want of success, and grieved to think that now he must part with Yonko, since he could not find food for both. Never fear, dear father, said Yonko tenderly, as he thanked him for the file of magic fluid he had just received as a parting gift. If I do not make my own fortune, I will make yours, and you and my mother shall live in comfort for the rest of your days. He started in high spirits, whistling a merry tune as he swung along, and stopping now and then for a moment to admire the rich deep blue of the sky, or the cunning nest of some little bird. When he became weary, he seated himself on a cushion of moss by the roadside, and began to eat the loaf of bread, which was all that his mother could afford to give him when he bade her farewell. He was soon surrounded by a troop of ants. We are hungry also, they cried, will you not let us share your meal? Suddenly, he answered, scattering crumbs with a liberal hand. Good Yonko, they exclaimed, as they bore them away to the anthill. If you ever want help, you will know where to come for it. We are your friends from this time forward. Yonko felt inclined to smile at the idea of being helped by such tiny creatures, but he was far too kind to hurt their feelings, and thanked them gratefully for their promise. Towards the close of the afternoon he reached a still blue lake. A ray from the setting sun made a pathway of gold across it, and fell on a poor little fish that lay on the bank with quivering sides as it panted for breath. Without waiting to be asked, Yonko immediately picked it up and put it back into the water. Good fellow! It gasped, er, it disappeared beneath the shining stream. If you are ever in need of help, call on the fish, and some of us will come to your rescue. Yonko laughed to himself as he went his way, but he was glad that he had happened to pass the lake at the right moment. The birds were singing their vests for him, and the landscape was flooded in rose-colored light as he neared the four crossroads. The sound of squeaking, angry voices made him hasten his steps. What is wrong, little people, he asked, in his gentlest tones. When he came up with the same goblin crowd whom we have met before, you are surely not going to quarrel on such a lovely evening. Shake hands and make friends before I wish you good night. The goblin's frowns and grimaces changed into merry smiles as they padded each other on the back and declared they were only pretending. You are a very good fellow, dear Yonko, they said, just as the fish had done, and whenever you need our help you have only to call us and we will come. Yonko trudged on happily until he came to a town, where he was distressed to find the inhabitants in the deepest grief. The daughter of their good king, whom all adored, lay at the point of death. The court physicians had wrung their hands declaring they could not cure her, and signs of mourning were in every face. Yonko listened to all they had to say, with never a word in reply, and then entered the nearest inn. I would talk with your master, he said, to the buxom maid who came forward to ask his pleasure. When her master appeared, Yonko drew him on one side and begged him to make his way with all speed to the palace. Never a word to his majesty the king, he said, that a great physician awaits his summons. A great physician, echoed the landlord, looking curiously at the slim youth who stood before him. I am the greatest physician in the world, declared Yonko solemnly, and can cure the princess if his majesty will allow me. So saying he retired to the parlor of the inn, and the landlord hurried to the palace. The king received the news with joy and sent an escort at once for Yonko. Another doctor, he said, as he received him in the great audience chamber, whose walls were of pale green marble with a ceiling of pure gold. If you can cure my beloved daughter, you shall have her hand in marriage and any other reward that you may demand. Yonko was then ushered into the realm of the sick princess, and when he saw her exceeding loveliness he desired nothing better than to become her husband. Her hair spread over her pillows like a mantle of woven sunbeams, and her heavy lids veiled eyes of the purest violet. Her slender hands were as fair as lilies, and her dimpled chin looked fit for an angel's kiss. Lifting her head on his strong young arm, he parted her unconscious lips, that he might give her some of the precious fluid with which his father had entrusted him, for he knew that this was the water of life. The first drop revived her. At the second she stirred faintly, and at the third she opened her violet eyes. Seeing a stranger bending over her, and that stranger a young man, she drew back haughtily, and demanded of her attendance what he was doing in her room. He is the greatest physician in the world, they murmured, and will quickly cure your royal highness of your sad sickness. But the princess declared that she did not wish to be cured, and obstinately refused to swallow any more of the water of life. She was only at her father's tearful entreaty that she at last consented to do so, and when she heard on her recovery the reward that the king had promised, her maidenly indignation knew no bounds. If I break my word to this great physician, her father pleaded, my people will no longer have faith in me. I pray you, dear daughter, give way to me in this one thing. He is a comely youth, and will make you a good husband. The princess had ever been a loyal and devoted daughter, and seeing the justice of her father's plea, she at last consented to marry Yanko, provided that he carried out three conditions. Whatever you ask me that I will do, declared the enamored youth, and the princess did not look so very angry as she met his ardent gaze. Calling for a sack of cinders and a sack of grain, she mixed these thoroughly together, screwing them on the ground. If you can separate the cinders from the grain before the first sign of dawn, I will be your wife, she said, and left the room with her maidens. Yanko saw at once the difficulty of the task, but in spite of this he did not despair. In order that he might think in peace he repaired to a green field, where he threw himself down under a spreading oak tree and knit his brow in a puzzled frown. He was hardly seated when a number of ants ran over his foot. Do not look so perplexed, dear Yanko, remarked their leader. You were kind to us when we were hungry, and now we will serve you equally well. With this they trooped off to the palace, and by the time that Yanko returned, the grain and the cinders were neatly separated and replaced in their respective sacks. The princess did her best to appear disappointed, but in her heart she was not ill-pleased. You have fulfilled my first condition, she said, ungraciously, but the second and third are more difficult. Fetch me the largest pearl in existence. Yanko bowed and left the palace, feeling this time at his wits' end. Without thinking where he was going, he wandered on until he came to the lake. The little fish popped up its head and asked why his face was troubled. If it's a pearl you want, my friend, he said, when Yanko had told him of the second condition that the princess had made, I can bring you the finest that is to be found. He darted down to the bed of the lake, and a moment later returned to the surface of the water, holding in his mouth the largest and most lustrous pearl that Yanko had ever seen. Having thanked the little creature warmly, the youth returned to the palace, and now the princess permitted herself to smile. It is lovely indeed, she said, as she bound it in the gold of her hair. What shall I bring you next? asked Yanko tenderly, venturing to take her hand. She did not draw it away until he had raised it to his lips, when she told him in mischievous tones to bring her a rose from Hades. That night he walked for many miles under the starlit sky, for his heart was sick for love of the fair princess, and he could not think how he was to get that rose. If he had only known that she too was sleepless, it would have cheered him greatly, though he already guessed that she was not so indifferent to him as she would have it appear. While still musing on her loveliness he reached the spot where he had seen the goblins. To his surprise he found they were still there, and before he had time to speak they had swarmed around him. Tell us how we can help you, they cried in chorus. We know you are in trouble by the way you stare at the moon. When they heard of the wish of the fair princess for a rose from Hades they bade him not despair, but wait at the crossroads until the magic hour of sunrise. As the mist on the hills turned from gray to purple, and the first thrush raised her morning song, the eldest goblin reappeared, and laying a crimson rose at Yanko's feet told him that he had had some difficulty in finding it in Hades since it was the flower of hope. He had plucked it from the breast of an old, old man who had learnt to see that good might come out of evil, even as dawn from night. Yanko carried the rose to the palace, and when the princess saw it she very sweetly gave him her hand. Yanko had no need to press her to fulfill her promise, and at the marriage ceremony, which shortly after took place amidst general rejoicing, she was the most willing of brides. The bridegroom's parents and his brother Yosca were all three invited to the wedding, and when the latter heard how Yanko had won his beautiful bride, he realized that selfishness does not pay, and that even the smallest and meanest of creatures may sometimes be of service. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Of Folk Tales From Many Lands This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Kalinda. Folk Tales From Many Lands by Lillian Gask Chapter 22 The Three Lemons A Turkish Fairy Story A certain sultan had a son of whom he was justly proud, for the young man was handsome and gay of temper, and had never been known to do an unworthy action. In the circle of the court he was the brightest star, and very sweet were the glances thrown him by the high-born ladies who served the sultan. The prince was courteous to them all, but he favored no one, and as years went on and he showed no signs of taking to himself a wife, the sultan became disturbed. My son, he said, why do you not choose a bride? It is time you were married, for I should like to see you the father of children before I go to my rest. Surely it would be easy to find a mate amidst these fair women you see around you. I should experience no difficulty were I in your place. The young prince looked at him thoughtfully. I must have something more than any of them can give me, my father, he replied, and if you really wish me to take a wife, I will go on a long journey, perhaps even round the world, and seek a princess whom I can love. She must be fair as the morning, white as the snow, and as pure as an angel. Well said my son, replied the sultan, I wish you good fortune and a safe return. And without more ado the prince departed. The air was crisp with frost, and the glittering crystals of the snow threw back the radiance of the sunlight from bank to meadow. The waves that tossed and tumbled on the distant shore seemed to beckon him towards them, so he hastened to the coast where he found a splendid vessel resting at anchor. While he was yet wondering how it had come there, and whither it was bound, invisible hands drew him on board, and as his feet touched the deck, the anchor lifted, and the ship set sail. For three days and three nights it glided swiftly over the sea, steered by a shadowy pilot who spoke no word. On the morning of the fourth day it came to stop beside a little islet, and the prince was amazed to see his favourite horse issue from the hold, ready saddled and bridled. Concluding that he was expected to land, he led the horse on shore, and when he turned around to take another look at the ship, it had completely vanished. No sign of any habitation was to be seen, and the cold was so intense that he could scarcely hold the reins. In spite of this he rode on and on, till at last he reached a small white house that stood by itself on the top of a hill, unsheltered from the wind. He knocked at the door with eager haste, hoping for the glimpse of a fire and perhaps some food. His summons was answered by a venerable woman with scanty hair like wisps of snow, who stared at him inquiringly. I seek a wife, good mother, said the prince. She must be the most beautiful princess in the world and as good as she is beautiful. Can you tell me where to find her? The old woman half shut the door. You will not find her here, she said, for I am winter and this is my kingdom. My sister Autumn perhaps may help you, but I have no time for thoughts of love. You will find her if you go straight on. The prince thanked the old lady and remounted his horse, hoping that Autumn would at least give him rest and refreshment. After a while he found that the snow had disappeared and that luscious fruit now hung in clusters from the trees. The stubble of the corn tinted the fields with gold and the squirrels were busily engaged in storing nuts for the winter. A little further on he came to a small brown house beside a wood and again dismounting he knocked at the door. It was opened by a woman with abundant dark hair and eyes like slows. Her cheeks were ruddy and her look was kind. She did not, however, ask him in. What are you seeking, young man? She inquired in a gentle voice. I seek a wife, he answered briefly. Ah! she exclaimed. Then I cannot help you. My name is Autumn, and I am far too busy gathering fruit to have time to spare for such things as love and marriage. My sister Summer is full of dreams, and she may find you what you want. So, saying, she shut the door, and as there was nothing else for him to do, the prince resumed his journey. He noticed ere long that the grass by the roadside was very tall, and that the fields were heavy with corn ready for harvest. The air was so warm that it touched his cheek caressingly, and the sun shone down so hotly that he was feigned to unloose his coat. He was very glad when at last he saw a small yellow house shaded by a group of trees. As he knocked at the door he heard the sound of a distant waterfall, and the hope of quenching his thirst was more in his mind just then than the fairest wife in Summer's Kingdom. His summons was answered by a stately woman crowned with auburn tresses. I am sorry I cannot help you, she said, when he had told her the object of his journey, for I too am very busy. Hacing you to my sister's spring, she is the friend of lovers and will surely aid you. So the prince went on till he saw a little greenhouse in a bower of lilac. Hyacinths and violets, Johnquills, Narcissie, and fragrant lilies of the valley bloomed beneath the windows. And when he knocked at the door, a little lady with flaxen hair and eyes of soft, deep velvet appeared on the threshold. Won't you take pity on me? he asked her eagerly. Your sister sent me on to you. I seek a wife who must be fair as the morning, white as the snow, and pure as an angel from heaven. You ask a great deal, spring told him smilingly, but I will do my best for you. Come in and rest, you must be tired and hungry. And to his great delight, she ushered him into a long, low room filled with the scent of flowers. When he had feasted on bread and honey, and quenched his thirst with sweet new milk, she brought him three fine lemons on a crystal tray. Beside them was a handsome silver knife and a quaint gold cup of a rare design. These are magic gifts, she said, so guard them carefully. Return at once to your own home, and make your way to the great fountains in the palace gardens. Having made quite sure that you were alone, take your silver knife and cut open the first lemon. As you do so a lovely princess will instantly appear and will ask you to give her water. If you at once offer her some in this golden cup, she will stay with you and be your wife. But should you hesitate, even for the space of a second, she will vanish into thin air and you will never see her again. I am not likely to be so foolish, said the prince. But if I do, shall I have no wife at all? You must then cut open the second lemon, spring answered gravely, and exactly the same thing will occur. If you hesitate this time also and she too disappears, you will have one more chance with the third lemon. Should your wits fail you a third time, you will die without a mate. The prince would have thanked her for her kindness, but she waved him away with a smile and a sigh, telling him not to delay. Full of joyful anticipation, he rode once more through the kingdoms of summer, autumn, and winter, and when he arrived at the coast found the same stately vessel awaiting his pleasure. The wind was favourable on his homeward voyage, and in a very short time he had once more gained the precincts of his father's palace. Giving his horse into the care of a groom, he hurried into the great gardens, and when he had filled spring's gold cup with water from the splashing fountains, cut open the first lemon. He had no sooner done so than a most exquisite princess appeared before him, and with a timid glance asked him to give her water. I am thirsty, she murmured. Will you not let me drink from your golden cup? The prince was so lost in admiration that he could only gaze at her, and with a gesture of reproach the lovely maiden vanished. It was in vain that he lamented his stupidity. Do as he would he could not call her back again, and with many regrets he cut the rind of the second lemon. Once more the gleaming spray of the dancing fountains took the form of a beautiful girl. Fair as the morning and white as snow cried the prince in rapture, too delighted to heed her request for a cup of water. He did not regain his senses until she also had disappeared, when he again bewailed his neglect of spring's injunctions. With trembling fingers he inserted the silver knife into the third lemon, and as the pungent odor of the golden fruit escaped into the air, another princess appeared before him. Closing his eyes lest they might be dazzled by her exceeding beauty, he immediately offered the golden cup. The maiden raised it to her lips with a bewitching smile and drained it to its dregs. The prince laughed aloud for joy, now at last he had found the bride he sought. No summer morning was fairer than she, for the whiteness of snow gleamed on chin and brow, and her expression was pure and gentle as an angel's. Drawing her down beside him on to a flowery bank, he held her hand and looked into her eyes. Will you be my wife? he whispered, and to his delight she answered. Yes. When his first raptures were over he noticed with some disappointment the simplicity of his bride's gown. It was of some simple stuff the color of running water, and hung in long flowing folds round her listen form. No necklace broke the outline of her dainty throat, and she looked so different from the maidens of the court that the prince, who, after all, was only a man, and not perhaps a very wise one, felt that something was lacking to complete her beauty. Your robe is not worthy of you, dear love, he cried. If you wait for me here, I will fetch you one of rich white satin from my father's palace, and a rope of pearls to twine around your neck. But the princess knew she needed no ornaments to enhance her beauty, and she did not wish him to leave her. Her lover, however, was so insistent that she consented to stay by the fountains while he went home, and more in love with her than ever he hurried away. Now the princess was very timid, and as the prince tarried long she grew frightened of being alone. So she stretched out her arms to a tree above her and swung herself up that she might nestle amidst its branches. The foliage hid her slender limbs in their flowing draperies, but her exquisite face gleamed like a flower from a setting of glossy leaves, and was mirrored in the deep basin of the fountains. An ugly negris who came to fill her picture caught sight of its loveliness, and since she had never gazed into a mirror, believed it to be her own. Oh, how very handsome I am, she murmured. I am far too beautiful to do the bidding of any mistress. I will never draw water again. And flinging the picture from her she strutted home with the air of a peacock. Why have you come back empty-handed, Deborah, inquired her mistress? I have seen my face in the fountain, was the reply, and I am much too lovely to fetch and carry like a poor slave. Why, you are as ugly as sin, her mistress retorted sharply. Go back at once and do as you are told. Deborah fetched another picture and went back to the fountains, grumbling the while. Again she caught sight of the prince's face reflected in the water, and again her swarthy features became distorted with pride. It is true, she cried, I am lovely as a dream. I will marry a prince and live in a palace. With this she threw down the second picture, and flounced into her mistress's presence with such an assumption of dignity that that lady burst out laughing. If you only knew how ugly you are, she cried, when she could speak, you would never talk such ridiculous nonsense. And daring her to return again without the water, she handed the mortified woman a third picture and sent her back to the fountain. The flower-like face of the fair princess smiled back at the angry negress as she bent over the pool, and the poor creature grinned and ogled. But I am handsome, she cried triumphantly, as handsome as a queen. She spoke so loudly that the princess heard her, and her laugh rang out like a peel of bells. Looking hastily up, the negress saw her in the branches, and disappointed vanity rendered her almost speechless. Her mistress was right, then, after all, and the lovely vision she had seen in the water was not the reflection of herself. As she stared upward with dilated eyes, there came to her thoughts of revenge. I will make her suffer for this, she murmured, but breathing her wide lips in a false smile she bade the princess good-morrow. Why do you hide in a tree, lovely lady? she asked her gently. I am waiting for my prince, who has gone to fetch me a satin robe and a rope of pearls to twine round my neck, answered the princess shyly. Your golden hair has been tossed by the wind, remarked the negress. Let me come up beside you, and I will make it smooth. It will not do to look untidy when your prince arrives. How kind you are, said the princess, and as she bent her silken head toward the negress, the treacherous woman stabbed it with a long, sharp pin. The princess fell back, faint with pain, but before her body could touch the ground she turned into a snow-white pigeon and flew off uttering plaintive cries. The negress took her place in the tree, and when it last the prince appeared, bearing a satin robe and bridal veil, it was she whom he saw looking down on him. Where is my sweet princess, he asked? She is fair as the morning and white as snow. What have you done with her? Alas, dear prince, answered the negress sadly. While you were away, an enchantress came and changed me into my present form. When you have proved your love by making me your wife, I shall, in three days' time, once more become a fair and beautiful princess, but if you desert me I must remain forever hideous. Although the sight of her filled him with repulsion, the prince was a man of honour and would not break his word. Calling the ladies who were waiting in the carriage, which he had brought to convey his bride to the palace, he bade them array her in the satin gown, and, pretending not to see their astonishment and disgust, drove back with her to his father, introducing her as his promised wife. The sultan was naturally horrified at her appearance, but when the prince explained to him how matter stood, he agreed that he must marry her and hope for the best. While the father and son talked thus, the negress wandered over the palace, giving unnecessary orders to the servants and making herself hateful to all. She even ventured into the great kitchens, and commanded the chief cook to prepare rich vions for her wedding ceremonies. As she issued her orders in a loud, harsh voice, she passed by the window, and noticed a slim white pigeon sitting on the sill. Kill me that bird, she cried, and cook it for my supper. Not daring to disobey her, the chief cook killed it immediately, plunging a sharp knife into its snowy breast. Three drops of blood fell from the window-cell into the courtyard, and a tiny seedling sprang from each of these. As if a fairy had waved her hand, they grew into trees of fragrant blossom, and in an instant the blossom turned into golden lemons. Meanwhile the prince was seeking for his bride, for since he had set himself so distasteful a task, he wished to perform it well. She is in the kitchen near Royal Highness, he was informed by one of his shocked courtiers, and in going to meet her, the prince passed under the lemon trees. The sight of their fruit brought him a ray of hope, and gathering three of the finest that he could, he hastened with them to his own room, where, having filled the golden cup with water, he plunged the blade of the silver knife into the rind of the first lemon. As before, a beautiful girl appeared, and stretched out her fair hands for the golden cup. Ah, no, he cried, you were very charming, but you were not my princess. He cut the rind of a second lemon, and as he did so the second princess took form before him. He shook his head at her mute-and-treaty for a cup of water, and she too disappeared. Then he cut the rind of the third lemon, and lo, his princess was once more in his arms. Great was the joy and relief of the old sultan when he heard from the prince that this beautiful girl was his real bride, but he listened with a frown of anger as she told them all that had happened when her lover left her by the fountain. He ordered the negris to be immediately brought before him, and, regarding her very sternly, asked her what she would think a fitting punishment for an affront offered to the future wife of his dear son. Nothing less than death, declared the negris, and death by burning, let the offender be cast into your Majesty's oven and the great door shut. Madam, you have passed sentence on yourself, replied the sultan dryly, and shrieking with terror the negris was led away. But the sweet princess would not let her suffer. She is but a poor, ignorant woman, she said, and it must be sad to be so ugly. Set her free, I entreat you, and let her go. This is the boon I ask you for my wedding gift. The sultan could not refuse his new daughter's first request, and the prince regarded her fondly. I saw you were fair as the morning, and white as snow, he murmured, and now I know that you are sweet as an angel. And though the years to come brought him trouble and sorrow as well as joy, he was indeed blessed. Beloved of all, that his princess wielded a gentle sway, and he never saw the fruit of a lemon without sending a grateful thought to spring for the magic gifts by which he had fared so well. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of Folk Tales from Many Lands This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Red by Kalinda Folk Tales from Many Lands by Lillian Gask Chapter 23 The Bar of Gold Long years ago there lived a poor, laboring man who never knew what it was to sleep in peace. Whether the times were good or bad, he was haunted by fears for the morrow, and this constant worrying caused him to look so thin and worn that the neighboring farmers hesitated to give him work. He was steady and frugal and had never been known to waste his time in the village in or indulge in foolish pleasures. In fact, a worthier man could not be found, and his friends agreed in saying that he certainly deserved success, though this never came his way. One day, as he sat by the roadside with his head on his hands, a kindly and charitable doctor from the town close by stopped his carriage to ask him what was the matter. You seem in trouble, my good man, he said. Tell me what I can do to help you. Encouraged by the sympathy in his voice, weeping John, as he was called, poured out his woes, to which the doctor listened with much attention. If I should fall sick, the poor man finished by saying, what would happen to my little children and the wife whom I love more dearly than in life itself? They would surely starve, for even as it is they often go hungry to bed. Surely a more unfortunate man has never been born. I toil early and late, and this is my reward. And once more he buried his face in his hands, while bitter sob shook his ill-clad shoulders. Come, come! said the doctor riskly. Get up at once, man, and I will do my best for you. I can see that if you do not kill worry, worry will kill you. Helping the poor fellow into his carriage, he told the coachman to drive straight home, and when they arrived at his comfortable mansion, he led him into his surgery. See here, he cried, pointing to a shining gabbar in a glass case, that bar of gold was bequeathed to me by my father, who was once as poor as you are now. By means of the strictest economy and hard work, he managed to save sufficient money to purchase this safeguard against want. When it came to me, I too was poor, but by following his example and keeping a brave heart in cloud and storm as well as sunshine, I have now amassed a fortune that is more than sufficient for my needs. Therefore I will now hand over to you the bar of gold, since I no longer require it. Its possession will give you confidence for the future. Do not break into it if you can avoid it, and remember that sighing and weeping should be left to weak women and girls. The labourer thanked him with much fervour, and hiding the bar of gold beneath his coat sped joyfully homeward. As he and his wife sat over the fire, which they were now no longer afraid to replenish, he told her all that the good doctor had said, and they agreed that unless the worst came to the worst they would never touch that bar of gold. The knowledge that we have it safely hidden in the cellar, said his wife, will keep from us all anxiety. And now, John, you must do your best to make a fortune, so that we may be able to hand it on to our dear children. From that day, John was a changed man. He sang and whistled merrily as he went about his work, and bore himself like a prosperous citizen. His cheeks filled out, and his eye grew bright. No longer did he waste his leisure in lamentations, but dug and planted his little garden until it yielded him richly of the fruits of the earth, and the proceeds helped to swell the silver coins in his good wife's stocking. The farmer, who had before employed him when short of hands, was so impressed with his alter looks, that he took him permanently into his service, and with regular food and sufficient clothing, John's delicate children grew strong and hardy. That bar of gold has brought us luck, he would sometimes say, blithely to his wife, who held her tongue like a wise woman, although she was tempted to remind him that the luck had come since he had given up weeping and lamentations concerning the future. One summer's evening long afterwards, as they sat in the wide porch while their grandchildren played in the meadow beyond, and the lowing of the cows on their peaceful farm mingled with the little people's merry shouts, a stranger came up the pathway and begged for alms. Though torn and tattered and gaunt with hunger, he had an air of gentleness and refinement, and full of compassion the worthy couple invited him in to rest. They set before him the best they had, and when he tried to express his gratitude, John laid his hand on his shoulder. My friend, he said, Providence has been good to us, and blessed the labour of our hands. In times gone by, however, I was as wretched as you appeared to be when you crossed the road, and it is owing to a stranger's kindness that I am in my present position. He went on to tell him of the bar of gold, and after a long look at his wife, who nodded her head as if well pleased, he went and fetched it from the cellar where he had lain hidden all these years. There, he exclaimed, I am going to give it to you. I shall not want it now, and my children are all well settled. It is fitting that you should have it, since your need is very great. Now the stranger understood the science of metals, for he was a learned man who had fallen on evil times. As he took the gleaming bar in his hands, while murmuring his astonished thanks, he knew by its weight that it was not gold. You have made a mistake, my friends, he cried. This bar is not what you think it, though I own that most men would be deceived. Greatly surprised, the old woman took it from him, and polished it with her apron in order to show him how brightly it gleamed. As she did so, an inscription appeared, which neither she nor her husband had noticed before. Both listened with great interest as the stranger read it out for them. It is less a matter of actual want, it ran, than the fear of what the Mara will bring, which causes the unhappiness of the poor. Then tread the path of life with courage, for it is clear that at last you will reach the end of your journey. When the stranger paused there was a dead silence, for the old man and woman were thinking many things, and words do not come quickly when one is deeply moved. At last John offered the stranger a tremulous apology for the disappointment he must be suffering through their innocent mistake. On the contrary, he replied warmly, the lesson that Bar has taught me is worth far more than any money that you could give me. I shall make a new start in my life, and remembering that we fail through fear, will henceforth bear myself as a brave man should. So saying, he bade the Medea, and passed out into the fragrant twilight. End of chapter 23. End of Folk Tales from Many Lands