'HOW AN OLD MAN LOST HIS WEN' JAPNESE STORY

HOW AN OLD MAN LOST HIS WEN


Many, many years ago there lived a good old man who had a wen like a
tennis-ball growing out of his right cheek. This lump was a great
disfigurement to the old man, and so annoyed him that for many years
he spent all his time and money in trying to get rid of it. He tried
everything he could think of. He consulted many doctors far and
near, and took all kinds of medicines both internally and
externally. But it was all of no use. The lump only grew bigger and
bigger till it was nearly as big as his face, and in despair he gave
up all hopes of ever losing it, and resigned himself to the thought
of having to carry the lump on his face all his life.

One day the firewood gave out in his kitchen, so, as his wife wanted
some at once, the old man took his ax and set out for the woods up
among the hills not very far from his home. It was a fine day in the
early autumn, and the old man enjoyed the fresh air and was in no
hurry to get home. So the whole afternoon passed quickly while he
was chopping wood, and he had collected a goodly pile to take back
to his wife. When the day began to draw to a close, he turned his
face homewards.

The old man had not gone far on his way down the mountain pass when
the sky clouded and rain began to fall heavily. He looked about for
some shelter, but there was not even a charcoal-burner's hut near.
At last he espied a large hole in the hollow trunk of a tree. The
hole was near the ground, so he crept in easily, and sat down in
hopes that he had only been overtaken by a mountain shower, and that
the weather would soon clear.

But much to the old man's disappointment, instead of clearing the
rain fell more and more heavily, and finally a heavy thunderstorm
broke over the mountain. The thunder roared so terrifically, and the
heavens seemed to be so ablaze with lightning, that the old man
could hardly believe himself to be alive. He thought that he must
die of fright. At last, however, the sky cleared, and the whole
country was aglow in the rays of the setting sun. The old man's
spirits revived when he looked out at the beautiful twilight, and he
was about to step out from his strange hiding-place in the hollow
tree when the sound of what seemed like the approaching steps of
several people caught his ear. He at once thought that his friends
had come to look for him, and he was delighted at the idea of having
some jolly companions with whom to walk home. But on looking out
from the tree, what was his amazement to see, not his friends, but
hundreds of demons coming towards the spot. The more he looked, the
greater was his astonishment. Some of these demons were as large as
giants, others had great big eyes out of all proportion to the rest
of their bodies, others again had absurdly long noses, and some had
such big mouths that they seemed to open from ear to ear. All had
horns growing on their foreheads. The old man was so surprised at
what he saw that he lost his balance and fell out of the hollow
tree. Fortunately for him the demons did not see him, as the tree
was in the background. So he picked himself up and crept back into
the tree.

While he was sitting there and wondering impatiently when he would
be able to get home, he heard the sounds of gay music, and then some
of the demons began to sing.

"What are these creatures doing?" said the old man to himself. "I
will look out, it sounds very amusing."

On peeping out, the old man saw that the demon chief himself was
actually sitting with his back against the tree in which he had
taken refuge, and all the other demons were sitting round, some
drinking and some dancing. Food and wine was spread before them on
the ground, and the demons were evidently having a great
entertainment and enjoying themselves immensely.

It made the old man laugh to see their strange antics.

"How amusing this is!" laughed the old man to himself "I am now
quite old, but I have never seen anything so strange in all my
life."

He was so interested and excited in watching all that the demons
were doing, that he forgot himself and stepped out of the tree and
stood looking on.

The demon chief was just taking a big cup of SAKE and watching one
of the demons dancing. In a little while he said with a bored air:

"Your dance is rather monotonous. I am tired of watching it. Isn't
there any one amongst you all who can dance better than this
fellow?"

Now the old man had been fond of dancing all his life, and was quite
an expert in the art, and he knew that he could do much better than
the demon.

"Shall I go and dance before these demons and let them see what a
human being can do? It may be dangerous, for if I don't please them
they may kill me!" said the old fellow to himself.

His fears, however, were soon overcome by his love of dancing. In a
few minutes he could restrain himself no longer, and came out before
the whole party of demons and began to dance at once. The old man,
realizing that his life probably depended on whether he pleased
these strange creatures or not, exerted his skill and wit to the
utmost.

The demons were at first very surprised to see a man so fearlessly
taking part in their entertainment, and then their surprise soon
gave place to admiration.

"How strange!" exclaimed the horned chief. "I never saw such a
skillful dancer before! He dances admirably!"

When the old man had finished his dance, the big demon said:

"Thank you very much for your amusing dance. Now give us the
pleasure of drinking a cup of wine with us," and with these words he
handed him his largest wine-cup.

The old man thanked him very humbly:

"I did not expect such kindness from your lordship. I fear I have
only disturbed your pleasant party by my unskillful dancing."

"No, no," answered the big demon. "You must come often and dance for
us. Your skill has given us much pleasure."

The old man thanked him again and promised to do so.

"Then will you come again to-morrow, old man?" asked the demon.

"Certainly, I will," answered the old man.

"Then you must leave some pledge of your word with us," said the
demon.

"Whatever you like," said the old man.

"Now what is the best thing he can leave with us as a pledge?" asked
the demon, looking round.

Then said one of the demon's attendants kneeling behind the chief:

"The token he leaves with us must be the most important thing to him
in his possession. I see the old man has a wen on his right cheek.
Now mortal men consider such a wen very fortunate. Let my lord take
the lump from the old man's right cheek, and he will surely come to-
morrow, if only to get that back."

"You are very clever," said the demon chief, giving his horns an
approving nod. Then he stretched out a hairy arm and claw-like hand,
and took the great lump from the old man's right cheek. Strange to
say, it came off as easily as a ripe plum from the tree at the
demon's touch, and then the merry troop of demons suddenly vanished.

The old man was lost in bewilderment by all that had happened. He
hardly knew for some time where he was. When he came to understand
what had happened to him, he was delighted to find that the lump on
his face, which had for so many years disfigured him, had really
been taken away without any pain to himself. He put up his hand to
feel if any scar remained, but found that his right cheek was as
smooth as his left.

The sun had long set, and the young moon had risen like a silver
crescent in the sky. The old man suddenly realized how late it was
and began to hurry home. He patted his right cheek all the time, as
if to make sure of his good fortune in having lost the wen. He was
so happy that he found it impossible to walk quietly--he ran and
danced the whole way home.

He found his wife very anxious, wondering what had happened to make
him so late. He soon told her all that had passed since he left home
that afternoon. She was quite as happy as her husband when he showed
her that the ugly lump had disappeared from his face, for in her
youth she had prided herself on his good looks, and it had been a
daily grief to her to see the horrid growth.

Now next door to this good old couple there lived a wicked and
disagreeable old man. He, too, had for many years been troubled with
the growth of a wen on his left cheek, and he, too,

had tried all manner of things to get rid of it, but in vain.

He heard at once, through the servant, of his neighbor's good luck
in losing the lump on his face, so he called that very evening and
asked his friend to tell him everything that concerned the loss of
it. The good old man told his disagreeable neighbor all that had
happened to him. He described the place where he would find the
hollow tree in which to hide, and advised him to be on the spot in
the late afternoon towards the time of sunset.

The old neighbor started out the very next afternoon, and after
hunting about for some time, came to the hollow tree just as his
friend had described. Here he hid himself and waited for the
twilight.

Just as he had been told, the band of demons came at that hour and
held a feast with dance and song. When this had gone on for some
time the chief of the demons looked around and said:

"It is now time for the old man to come as he promised us. Why
doesn't he come?"

When the second old man heard these words he ran out of his hiding-
place in the tree and, kneeling down before the Oni, said:

"I have been waiting for a long time for you to speak!"

"Ah, you are the old man of yesterday," said the demon chief. "Thank
you for coming, you must dance for us soon."

The old man now stood up and opened his fan and began to dance. But
he had never learned to dance, and knew nothing about the necessary
gestures and different positions. He thought that anything would
please the demons, so he just hopped about, waving his arms and
stamping his feet, imitating as well as he could any dancing he had
ever seen.

The Oni were very dissatisfied at this exhibition, and said amongst
themselves:

"How badly he dances to-day!"

Then to the old man the demon chief said:

"Your performance to-day is quite different from the dance of
yesterday. We don't wish to see any more of such dancing. We will
give you back the pledge you left with us. You must go away at
once."

With these words he took out from a fold of his dress the lump which
he had taken from the face of the old man who had danced so well the
day before, and threw it at the right cheek of the old man who stood
before him. The lump immediately attached itself to his cheek as
firmly as if it had grown there always, and all attempts to pull it
off were useless. The wicked old man, instead of losing the lump on
his left cheek as he had hoped, found to his dismay that he had but
added another to his right cheek in his attempt to get rid of the
first.

He put up first one hand and then the other to each side of his face
to make sure if he were not dreaming a horrible nightmare. No, sure
enough there was now a great wen on the right side of his face as on
the left. The demons had all disappeared, and there was nothing for
him to do but to return home. He was a pitiful sight, for his face,
with the two large lumps, one on each side, looked just like a
Japanese gourd.

'THE OGRE OF RASHOMON' JAPNESE TALES FOR KIDS

THE OGRE OF RASHOMON


Long, long ago in Kyoto, the people of the city were terrified by
accounts of a dreadful ogre, who, it was said, haunted the Gate of
Rashomon at twilight and seized whoever passed by. The missing
victims were never seen again, so it was whispered that the ogre was
a horrible cannibal, who not only killed the unhappy victims but ate
them also. Now everybody in the town and neighborhood was in great
fear, and no one durst venture out after sunset near the Gate of
Rashomon.

Now at this time there lived in Kyoto a general named Raiko, who had
made himself famous for his brave deeds. Some time before this he
made the country ring with his name, for he had attacked Oeyama,
where a band of ogres lived with their chief, who instead of wine
drank the blood of human beings. He had routed them all and cut off
the head of the chief monster.

This brave warrior was always followed by a band of faithful
knights. In this band there were five knights of great valor. One
evening as the five knights sat at a feast quaffing SAKE in their
rice bowls and eating all kinds of fish, raw, and stewed, and
broiled, and toasting each other's healths and exploits, the first
knight, Hojo, said to the others:

"Have you all heard the rumor that every evening after sunset there
comes an ogre to the Gate of Rashomon, and that he seizes all who
pass by?"

The second knight, Watanabe, answered him, saying:

"Do not talk such nonsense! All the ogres were killed by our chief
Raiko at Oeyama! It cannot be true, because even if any ogres did
escape from that great killing they would not dare to show
themselves in this city, for they know that our brave master would
at once attack them if he knew that any of them were still alive!"

"Then do you disbelieve what I say, and think that I am telling you
a falsehood?"

"No, I do not think that you are telling a lie," said Watanabe; "but
you have heard some old woman's story which is not worth believing."

"Then the best plan is to prove what I say, by going there yourself
and finding out yourself whether it is true or not," said Hojo.

Watanabe, the second knight, could not bear the thought that his
companion should believe he was afraid, so he answered quickly:

"Of course, I will go at once and find out for myself!"

So Watanabe at once got ready to go--he buckled on his long sword
and put on a coat of armor, and tied on his large helmet. When he
was ready to start he said to the others:

"Give me something so that I can prove I have been there!"

Then one of the men got a roll of writing paper and his box of
Indian ink and brushes, and the four comrades wrote their names on a
piece of paper.

"I will take this," said Watanabe, "and put it on the Gate of
Rashomon, so to-morrow morning will you all go and look at it? I may
be able to catch an ogre or two by then!" and he mounted his horse
and rode off gallantly.

It was a very dark night, and there was neither moon nor star to
light Watanabe on his way. To make the darkness worse a storm came
on, the rain fell heavily and the wind howled like wolves in the
mountains. Any ordinary man would have trembled at the thought of
going out of doors, but Watanabe was a brave warrior and dauntless,
and his honor and word were at stake, so he sped on into the night,
while his companions listened to the sound of his horse's hoofs
dying away in the distance, then shut the sliding shutters close and
gathered round the charcoal fire and wondered what would happen--and
whether their comrade would encounter one of those horrible Oni.

At last Watanabe reached the Gate of Rashomon, but peer as he might
through the darkness he could see no sign of an ogre.

"It is just as I thought," said Watanabe to himself; "there are
certainly no ogres here; it is only an old woman's story. I will
stick this paper on the gate so that the others can see I have been
here when they come to-morrow, and then I will take my way home and
laugh at them all."

He fastened the piece of paper, signed by all his four companions,
on the gate, and then turned his horse's head towards home.

As he did so he became aware that some one was behind him, and at
the same time a voice called out to him to wait. Then his helmet was
seized from the back. "Who are you?" said Watanabe fearlessly. He
then put out his hand and groped around to find out who or what it
was that held him by the helmet. As he did so he touched something
that felt like an arm--it was covered with hair and as big round as
the trunk of a tree!

Watanabe knew at once that this was the arm of an ogre, so he drew
his sword and cut at it fiercely.

There was a loud yell of pain, and then the ogre dashed in front of
the warrior.

Watanabe's eyes grew large with wonder, for he saw that the ogre was
taller than the great gate, his eyes were flashing like mirrors in
the sunlight, and his huge mouth was wide open, and as the monster
breathed, flames of fire shot out of his mouth.

The ogre thought to terrify his foe, but Watanabe never flinched. He
attacked the ogre with all his strength, and thus they fought face
to face for a long time. At last the ogre, finding that he could
neither frighten nor beat Watanabe and that he might himself be
beaten, took to flight. But Watanabe, determined not to let the
monster escape, put spurs to his horse and gave chase.

But though the knight rode very fast the ogre ran faster, and to his
disappointment he found himself unable to overtake the monster, who
was gradually lost to sight.

Watanabe returned to the gate where the fierce fight had taken
place, and got down from his horse. As he did so he stumbled upon
something lying on the ground.

Stooping to pick it up he found that it was one of the ogre's huge
arms which he must have slashed off in the fight. His joy was great
at having secured such a prize, for this was the best of all proofs
of his adventure with the ogre. So he took it up carefully and
carried it home as a trophy of his victory.

When he got back, he showed the arm to his comrades, who one and all
called him the hero of their band and gave him a great feast. His
wonderful deed was soon noised abroad in Kyoto, and people from far
and near came to see the ogre's arm.

Watanabe now began to grow uneasy as to how he should keep the arm
in safety, for he knew that the ogre to whom it belonged was still
alive. He felt sure that one day or other, as soon as the ogre got
over his scare, he would come to try to get his arm back again.
Watanabe therefore had a box made of the strongest wood and banded
with iron. In this he placed the arm, and then he sealed down the
heavy lid, refusing to open it for anyone. He kept the box in his
own room and took charge of it himself, never allowing it out of his
sight.

Now one night he heard some one knocking at the porch, asking for
admittance.

When the servant went to the door to see who it was, there was only
an old woman, very respectable in appearance. On being asked who she
was and what was her business, the old woman replied with a smile
that she had been nurse to the master of the house when he was a
little baby. If the lord of the house were at home she begged to be
allowed to see him.

The servant left the old woman at the door and went to tell his
master that his old nurse had come to see him. Watanabe thought it
strange that she should come at that time of night, but at the
thought of his old nurse, who had been like a foster-mother to him
and whom he had not seen for a long time, a very tender feeling
sprang up for her in his heart. He ordered the servant to show her
in.

The old woman was ushered into the room, and after the customary
bows and greetings were over, she said:

"Master, the report of your brave fight with the ogre at the Gate of
Rashomon is so widely known that even your poor old nurse has heard
of it. Is it really true, what every one says, that you cut off one
of the ogre's arms? If you did, your deed is highly to be praised!"

"I was very disappointed," said Watanabe, "that I was not able take
the monster captive, which was what I wished to do, instead of only
cutting off an arm!"

"I am very proud to think," answered the old woman, "that my master
was so brave as to dare to cut off an ogre's arm. There is nothing
that can be compared to your courage. Before I die it is the great
wish of my life to see this arm," she added pleadingly.

"No," said Watanabe, "I am sorry, but I cannot grant your request."

"But why?" asked the old woman.

"Because," replied Watanabe, "ogres are very revengeful creatures,
and if I open the box there is no telling but that the ogre may
suddenly appear and carry off his arm. I have had a box made on
purpose with a very strong lid, and in this box I keep the ogre's
arm secure; and I never show it to any one, whatever happens."

"Your precaution is very reasonable," said the old woman. "But I am
your old nurse, so surely you will not refuse to show ME the arm. I
have only just heard of your brave act, and not being able to wait
till the morning I came at once to ask you to show it to me."

Watanabe was very troubled at the old woman's pleading, but he still
persisted in refusing. Then the old woman said:

"Do you suspect me of being a spy sent by the ogre?"

"No, of course I do not suspect you of being the ogre's spy, for you
are my old nurse," answered Watanabe.

"Then you cannot surely refuse to show me the arm any longer."
entreated the old woman; "for it is the great wish of my heart to
see for once in my life the arm of an ogre!"

Watanabe could not hold out in his refusal any longer, so he gave in
at last, saying:

"Then I will show you the ogre's arm, since you so earnestly wish to
see it. Come, follow me!" and he led the way to his own room, the
old woman following.

When they were both in the room Watanabe shut the door carefully,
and then going towards a big box which stood in a corner of the
room, he took off the heavy lid. He then called to the old woman to
come near and look in, for he never took the arm out of the box.

"What is it like? Let me have a good look at it," said the old
nurse, with a joyful face.

She came nearer and nearer, as if she were afraid, till she stood
right against the box. Suddenly she plunged her hand into the box
and seized the arm, crying with a fearful voice which made the room
shake:

"Oh, joy! I have got my arm back again!"

And from an old woman she was suddenly transformed into the towering
figure of the frightful ogre!

Watanabe sprang back and was unable to move for a moment, so great
was his astonishment; but recognizing the ogre who had attacked him
at the Gate of Rashomon, he determined with his usual courage to put
an end to him this time. He seized his sword, drew it out of its
sheath in a flash, and tried to cut the ogre down.

So quick was Watanabe that the creature had a narrow escape. But the
ogre sprang up to the ceiling, and bursting through the roof,
disappeared in the mist and clouds.

In this way the ogre escaped with his arm. The knight gnashed his
teeth with disappointment, but that was all he could do. He waited
in patience for another opportunity to dispatch the ogre. But the
latter was afraid of Watanabe's great strength and daring, and never
troubled Kyoto again. So once more the people of the city were able
to go out without fear even at night time, and the brave deeds of
Watanabe have never been forgotten!

'MOMOTARO, OR THE STORY OF THE SON OF A PEACH' JAPNESE STORY FOR CHILDREN

MOMOTARO, OR THE STORY OF THE SON OF A PEACH


Long, long ago there lived, an old man and. an old woman; they were
peasants, and had to work hard to earn their daily rice. The old man
used to go and cut grass for the farmers around, and while he was
gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and worked
in their own little rice field.

One day the old man went to the hills as usual to cut grass and the
old woman took some clothes to the river to wash.

It was nearly summer, and the country was very beautiful to see in
its fresh greenness as the two old people went on their way to work.
The grass on the banks of the river looked like emerald velvet, and
the pussy willows along the edge of the water were shaking out their
soft tassels.

The breezes blew and ruffled the smooth surface of the water into
wavelets, and passing on touched the cheeks of the old couple who,
for some reason they could not explain, felt very happy that
morning.

The old woman at last found a nice spot by the river bank and put
her basket down. Then she set to work to wash the clothes; she took
them one by one out of the basket and washed them in the river and
rubbed them on the stones. The water was as clear as crystal, and
she could see the tiny fish swimming to and fro, and the pebbles at
the bottom.

As she was busy washing her clothes a great peach came bumping down
the stream. The old woman looked up from her work and saw this large
peach. She was sixty years of age, yet in all her life she had never
seen such a big peach as this.

"How delicious that peach must be!" she said to herself. "I must
certainly get it and take it home to my old man."

She stretched out her arm to try and get it, but it was quite out of
her reach. She looked about for a stick, but there was not one to be
seen, and if she went to look for one she would lose the peach.

Stopping a moment to think what she would do, she remembered an old
charm-verse. Now she began to clap her hands to keep time to the
rolling of the peach down stream, and while she clapped she sang
this song:

"Distant water is bitter,
The near water is sweet;
Pass by the distant water
And come into the sweet."

Strange to say, as soon as she began to repeat this little song the
peach began to come nearer and nearer the bank where the old woman
was standing, till at last it stopped just in front of her so that
she was able to take it up in her hands. The old woman was
delighted. She could not go on with her work, so happy and excited
was she, so she put all the clothes back in her bamboo basket, and
with the basket on her back and the peach in her hand she hurried
homewards.

It seemed a very long time to her to wait till her husband returned.
The old man at last came back as the sun was setting, with a big
bundle of grass on his back--so big that he was almost hidden and
she could hardly see him. He seemed very tired and used the scythe
for a walking stick, leaning on it as he walked along.

As soon as the old woman saw him she called out:

"O Fii San! (old man) I have been waiting for you to come home for
such a long time to-day!"

"What is the matter? Why are you so impatient?" asked the old man,
wondering at her unusual eagerness. "Has anything happened while I
have been away?"

"Oh, no!" answered the old woman, "nothing has happened, only I have
found a nice present for you!"

"That is good," said the old man. He then washed his feet in a basin
of water and stepped up to the veranda.

The old woman now ran into the little room and brought out from the
cupboard the big peach. It felt even heavier than before. She held
it up to him, saying:

"Just look at this! Did you ever see such a large peach in all your
life?"

When the old man looked at the peach he was greatly astonished and
said:

"This is indeed the largest peach I have ever seen! Wherever did you
buy it?"

"I did not buy it," answered the old woman. "I found it in the river
where I was washing." And she told him the whole story.

"I am very glad that you have found it. Let us eat it now, for I am
hungry," said the O Fii San.

He brought out the kitchen knife, and, placing the peach on a board,
was about to cut it when, wonderful to tell, the peach split in two
of itself and a clear voice said:

"Wait a bit, old man!" and out stepped a beautiful little child.

The old man and his wife were both so astonished at what they saw
that they fell to the ground. The child spoke again:

"Don't be afraid. I am no demon or fairy. I will tell you the truth.
Heaven has had compassion on you. Every day and every night you have
lamented that you had no child. Your cry has been heard and I am
sent to be the son of your old age!"

On hearing this the old man and his wife were very happy. They had
cried night and day for sorrow at having no child to help them in
their lonely old age, and now that their prayer was answered they
were so lost with joy that they did not know where to put their
hands or their feet. First the old man took the child up in his
arms, and then the old woman did the same; and they named him
MOMOTARO, OR SON OF A PEACH, because he had come out of a peach.

The years passed quickly by and the child grew to be fifteen years
of age. He was taller and far stronger than any other boys of his
own age, he had a handsome face and a heart full of courage, and he
was very wise for his years. The old couple's pleasure was very
great when they looked at him, for he was just what they thought a
hero ought to be like.

One day Momotaro came to his foster-father and said solemnly:

"Father, by a strange chance we have become father and son. Your
goodness to me has been higher than the mountain grasses which it
was your daily work to cut, and deeper than the river where my
mother washes the clothes. I do not know how to thank you enough."

"Why," answered the old man, "it is a matter of course that a father
should bring up his son. When you are older it will be your turn to
take care of us, so after all there will be no profit or loss
between us--all will be equal. Indeed, I am rather surprised that
you should thank me in this way!" and the old man looked bothered.

"I hope you will be patient with me," said Momotaro; "but before I
begin to pay back your goodness to me I have a request to make which
I hope you will grant me above everything else."

"I will let you do whatever you wish, for you are quite different to
all other boys!"

"Then let me go away at once!"

"What do you say? Do you wish to leave your old father and mother
and go away from your old home?"

"I will surely come back again, if you let me go now!"

"Where are you going?"

"You must think it strange that I want to go away," said Momotaro,
"because I have not yet told you my reason. Far away from here to
the northeast of Japan there is an island in the sea. This island is
the stronghold of a band of devils. I have often heard how they
invade this land, kill and rob the people, and carry off all they
can find. They are not only very wicked but they are disloyal to our
Emperor and disobey his laws. They are also cannibals, for they kill
and eat some of the poor people who are so unfortunate as to fall
into their hands. These devils are very hateful beings. I must go
and conquer them and bring back all the plunder of which they have
robbed this land. It is for this reason that I want to go away for a
short time!"

The old man was much surprised at hearing all this from a mere boy
of fifteen. He thought it best to let the boy go. He was strong and
fearless, and besides all this, the old man knew he was no common
child, for he had been sent to them as a gift from Heaven, and he
felt quite sure that the devils would be powerless to harm him.

"All you say is very interesting, Momotaro," said the old man. "I
will not hinder you in your determination. You may go if you wish.
Go to the island as soon as ever you like and destroy the demons and
bring peace to the land."

"Thank you, for all your kindness," said Momotaro, who began to get
ready to go that very day. He was full of courage and did not know
what fear was.

The old man and woman at once set to work to pound rice in the
kitchen mortar to make cakes for Momotaro to take with him on his
journey.

At last the cakes were made and Momotaro was ready to start on his
long journey.

Parting is always sad. So it was now. The eyes of the two old people
were filled with tears and their voices trembled as they said:

"Go with all care and speed. We expect you back victorious!"

Momotaro was very sorry to leave his old parents (though he knew he
was coming back as soon as he could), for he thought of how lonely
they would be while he was away. But he said "Good-by!" quite
bravely.

"I am going now. Take good care of yourselves while I am away. Good-
by!" And he stepped quickly out of the house. In silence the eyes of
Momotaro and his parents met in farewell.

Momotaro now hurried on his way till it was midday. He began to feel
hungry, so he opened his bag and took out one of the rice-cakes and
sat down under a tree by the side of the road to eat it. While he
was thus having his lunch a dog almost as large as a colt came
running out from the high grass. He made straight for Momotaro, and
showing his teeth, said in a fierce way:

"You are a rude man to pass my field without asking permission
first. If you leave me all the cakes you have in your bag you may
go; otherwise I will bite you till I kill you!"

Momotaro only laughed scornfully:

"What is that you are saying? Do you know who I am? I am Momotaro,
and I am on my way to subdue the devils in their island stronghold
in the northeast of Japan. If you try to stop me on my way there I
will cut you in two from the head downwards!"

The dog's manner at once changed. His tail dropped between his legs,
and coming near he bowed so low that his forehead touched the
ground.

"What do I hear? The name of Momotaro? Are you indeed Momotaro? I
have often heard of your great strength. Not knowing who you were I
have behaved in a very stupid way. Will you please pardon my
rudeness? Are you indeed on your way to invade the Island of Devils?
If you will take such a rude fellow with you as one of your
followers, I shall be very grateful to you."

"I think I can take you with me if you wish to go," said Momotaro.

"Thank you!" said the dog. "By the way, I am very very hungry. Will
you give me one of the cakes you are carrying?"

"This is the best kind of cake there is in Japan," said Momotaro. "I
cannot spare you a whole one; I will give you half of one."

"Thank you very much," said the dog, taking the piece thrown to him.

Then Momotaro got up and the dog followed. For a long time they
walked over the hills and through the valleys. As they were going
along an animal came down from a tree a little ahead of them. The
creature soon came up to Momotaro and said:

"Good morning, Momotaro! You are welcome in this part of the
country. Will you allow me to go with you?"

The dog answered jealously:

"Momotaro already has a dog to accompany him. Of what use is a
monkey like you in battle? We are on our way to fight the devils!
Get away!"

The dog and the monkey began to quarrel and bite, for these two
animals always hate each other.

"Now, don't quarrel!" said Momotaro, putting himself between them.
"Wait a moment, dog!"

"It is not at all dignified for you to have such a creature as that
following you!" said the dog.

"What do you know about it?" asked Momotaro; and pushing aside the
dog, he spoke to the monkey:

"Who are you?"

"I am a monkey living in these hills," replied the monkey." I heard
of your expedition to the Island of Devils, and I have come to go
with you. Nothing will please me more than to follow you!"

"Do you really wish to go to the Island of Devils and fight with
me?"

"Yes, sir," replied the monkey.

"I admire your courage," said Momotaro. "Here is a piece of one of
my fine rice-cakes. Come along!"

So the monkey joined Momotaro. The dog and the monkey did not get on
well together. They were always snapping at each other as they went
along, and always wanting to have a fight. This made Momotaro very
cross, and at last he sent the dog on ahead with a flag and put the
monkey behind with a sword, and he placed himself between them with
a war-fan, which is made of iron.

By and by they came to a large field. Here a bird flew down and
alighted on the ground just in front of the little party. It was the
most beautiful bird Momotaro had ever seen. On its body were five
different robes of feathers and its head was covered with a scarlet
cap.

The dog at once ran at the bird and tried to seize and kill it. But
the bird struck out its spurs and flew at the dog's tail, and the
fight went hard with both.

Momotaro, as he looked on, could not help admiring the bird; it
showed so much spirit in the fight. It would certainly make a good
fighter.

Momotaro went up to the two combatants, and holding the dog back,
said to the bird:

"You rascal! you are hindering my journey. Surrender at once, and I
will take you with me. If you don't I will set this dog to bite your
head off!"

Then the bird surrendered at once, and begged to be taken into
Momotaro's company.

"I do not know what excuse to offer for quarreling with the dog,
your servant, but I did not see you. I am a miserable bird called a
pheasant. It is very generous of you to pardon my rudeness and to
take me with you. Please allow me to follow you behind the dog and
the monkey!"

"I congratulate you on surrendering so soon," said Momotaro,
smiling. "Come and join us in our raid on the devils."

"Are you going to take this bird with you also?" asked the dog,
interrupting.

"Why do you ask such an unnecessary question? Didn't you hear what I
said? I take the bird with me because I wish to!"

"Humph!" said the dog.

Then Momotaro stood and gave this order:

"Now all of you must listen to me. The first thing necessary in an
army is harmony. It is a wise saying which says that 'Advantage on
earth is better than advantage in Heaven!' Union amongst ourselves
is better than any earthly gain. When we are not at peace amongst
ourselves it is no easy thing to subdue an enemy. From now, you
three, the dog, the monkey and the pheasant, must be friends with
one mind. The one who first begins a quarrel will be discharged on
the spot!"

All the three promised not to quarrel. The pheasant was now made a
member of Momotaro's suite, and received half a cake.

Momotaro's influence was so great that the three became good
friends, and hurried onwards with him as their leader.

Hurrying on day after day they at last came out upon the shore of
the North-Eastern Sea. There was nothing to be seen as far as the
horizon--not a sign of any island. All that broke the stillness was
the rolling of the waves upon the shore.

Now, the dog and the monkey and the pheasant had come very bravely
all the way through the long valleys and over the hills, but they
had never seen the sea before, and for the first time since they set
out they were bewildered and gazed at each other in silence. How
were they to cross the water and get to the Island of Devils?

Momotaro soon saw that they were daunted by the sight of the sea,
and to try them he spoke loudly and roughly:

"Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid of the sea? Oh! what cowards
you are! It is impossible to take such weak creatures as you with me
to fight the demons. It will be far better for me to go alone. I
discharge you all at once!"

The three animals were taken aback at this sharp reproof, and clung
to Momotaro's sleeve, begging him not to send them away.

"Please, Momotaro!" said the dog.

"We have come thus far!" said the monkey.

"It is inhuman to leave us here!" said the pheasant.

"We are not at all afraid of the sea," said the monkey again.

"Please do take us with you," said the pheasant.

"Do please," said the dog.

They had now gained a little courage, so Momotaro said:

"Well, then, I will take you with me, but be careful!"

Momotaro now got a small ship, and they all got on board. The wind
and weather were fair, and the ship went like an arrow over the sea.
It was the first time they had ever been on the water, and so at
first the dog, the monkey and the pheasant were frightened at the
waves and the rolling of the vessel, but by degrees they grew
accustomed to the water and were quite happy again. Every day they
paced the deck of their little ship, eagerly looking out for the
demons' island.

When they grew tired of this, they told each other stories of all
their exploits of which they were proud, and then played games
together; and Momotaro found much to amuse him in listening to the
three animals and watching their antics, and in this way he forgot
that the way was long and that he was tired of the voyage and of
doing nothing. He longed to be at work killing the monsters who had
done so much harm in his country.

As the wind blew in their favor and they met no storms the ship made
a quick voyage, and one day when the sun was shining brightly a
sight of land rewarded the four watchers at the bow.

Momotaro knew at once that what they saw was the devils' stronghold.
On the top of the precipitous shore, looking out to sea, was a large
castle. Now that his enterprise was close at hand, he was deep in
thought with his head leaning on his hands, wondering how he should
begin the attack. His three followers watched him, waiting for
orders. At last he called to the pheasant:

"It is a great advantage for us to have you with us." said Momotaro
to the bird, "for you have good wings. Fly at once to the castle and
engage the demons to fight. We will follow you."

The pheasant at once obeyed. He flew off from the ship beating the
air gladly with his wings. The bird soon reached the island and took
up his position on the roof in the middle of the castle, calling out
loudly:

"All you devils listen to me! The great Japanese general Momotaro
has come to fight you and to take your stronghold from you. If you
wish to save your lives surrender at once, and in token of your
submission you must break off the horns that grow on your forehead.
If you do not surrender at once, but make up your mind to fight, we,
the pheasant, the dog and the monkey, will kill you all by biting
and tearing you to death!"

The horned demons looking up and only seeing a pheasant, laughed and
said:

"A wild pheasant, indeed! It is ridiculous to hear such words from a
mean thing like you. Wait till you get a blow from one of our iron
bars!"

Very angry, indeed, were the devils. They shook their horns and
their shocks of red hair fiercely, and rushed to put on tiger skin
trousers to make themselves look more terrible. They then brought
out great iron bars and ran to where the pheasant perched over their
heads, and tried to knock him down. The pheasant flew to one side to
escape the blow, and then attacked the head of first one and then
another demon. He flew round and round them, beating the air with
his wings so fiercely and ceaselessly, that the devils began to
wonder whether they had to fight one or many more birds.

In the meantime, Momotaro had brought his ship to land. As they had
approached, he saw that the shore was like a precipice, and that the
large castle was surrounded by high walls and large iron gates and
was strongly fortified.

Momotaro landed, and with the hope of finding some way of entrance,
walked up the path towards the top, followed by the monkey and the
dog. They soon came upon two beautiful damsels washing clothes in a
stream. Momotaro saw that the clothes were blood-stained, and that
as the two maidens washed, the tears were falling fast down their
cheeks. He stopped and spoke to them:

"Who are you, and why do you weep?"

"We are captives of the Demon King. We were carried away from our
homes to this island, and though we are the daughters of Daimios
(Lords), we are obliged to be his servants, and one day he will kill
us"--and the maidens held up the blood-stained clothes--"and eat us,
and there is no one to help us!"

And their tears burst out afresh at this horrible thought.

"I will rescue you," said Momotaro. "Do not weep any more, only show
me how I may get into the castle."

Then the two ladies led the way and showed Momotaro a little back
door in the lowest part of the castle wall--so small that Momotaro
could hardly crawl in.

The pheasant, who was all this time fighting hard, saw Momotaro and
his little band rush in at the back.

Momotaro's onslaught was so furious that the devils could not stand
against him. At first their foe had been a single bird, the
pheasant, but now that Momotaro and the dog and the monkey had
arrived they were bewildered, for the four enemies fought like a
hundred, so strong were they. Some of the devils fell off the
parapet of the castle and were dashed to pieces on the rocks
beneath; others fell into the sea and were drowned; many were beaten
to death by the three animals.

The chief of the devils at last was the only one left. He made up
his mind to surrender, for he knew that his enemy was stronger than
mortal man.

He came up humbly to Momotaro and threw down his iron bar, and
kneeling down at the victor's feet he broke off the horns on his
head in token of submission, for they were the sign of his strength
and power.

"I am afraid of you," he said meekly. "I cannot stand against you. I
will give you all the treasure hidden in this castle if you will
spare my life!"

Momotaro laughed.

"It is not like you, big devil, to beg for mercy, is it? I cannot
spare your wicked life, however much you beg, for you have killed
and tortured many people and robbed our country for many years."

Then Momotaro tied the devil chief up and gave him into the monkey's
charge. Having done this, he went into all the rooms of the castle
and set the prisoners free and gathered together all the treasure he
found.

The dog and the pheasant carried home the plunder, and thus Momotaro
returned triumphantly to his home, taking with him the devil chief
as a captive.

The two poor damsels, daughters of Daimios, and others whom the
wicked demon had carried off to be his slaves, were taken safely to
their own homes and delivered to their parents.

The whole country made a hero of Momotaro on his triumphant return,
and rejoiced that the country was now freed from the robber devils
who had been a terror of the land for a long time.

The old couple's joy was greater than ever, and the treasure
Momotaro had brought home with him enabled them to live in peace and
plenty to the end of their days.

'THE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES' JAPNESE FAIRY TALES FOR KIDS

THE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES


Long, long ago. when all the animals could talk, there lived in the
province of Inaba in Japan, a little white hare. His home was on the
island of Oki, and just across the sea was the mainland of Inaba.

Now the hare wanted very much to cross over to Inaba. Day after day
he would go out and sit on the shore and look longingly over the
water in the direction of Inaba. and day after day he hoped to find
some way of getting across.

One day as usual, the hare was standing on the beach, looking
towards the mainland across the water, when he saw a great crocodile
swimming near the island.

"This is very lucky!" thought the hare. "Now I shall be able to get
my wish. I will ask the crocodile to carry me across the sea!"

But he was doubtful whether the crocodile would consent to do what
wanted. So he thought instead of asking a favor he would try to get
what he wanted by a trick.

So with a loud voice he called to the crocodile, and said:

"Oh, Mr. Crocodile, isn't it a lovely day?"

The crocodile, who had come out all by itself that day to enjoy the
bright sunshine, was just beginning to feel a bit lonely when the
hare's cheerful greeting broke the silence. The crocodile swam
nearer the shore, very pleased to hear some one speak.

"I wonder who it was that spoke to me just now! Was it you, Mr.
Hare? You must be very lonely all by yourself!"

"Oh, no, I am not at all lonely," said the hare, "but as it was such
a fine day I came out here to enjoy myself. Won't you stop and play
with me a little while?"

The crocodile came out of the sea and sat on the shore, and the two
played together for some time. Then the hare said:

"Mr. Crocodile, you live in the sea and I live on this island, and
we do not often meet, so I know very little about you. Tell me, do
you think the number of your company is greater than mine?"

"Of course, there are more crocodiles than hares," answered the
crocodile. "Can you not see that for yourself? You live on this
small island, while I live in the sea, which spreads through all
parts of the world, so if I call together all the crocodiles who
dwell in the sea you hares will be as nothing compared to us!" The
crocodile was very conceited.

The hare, who meant to play a trick on the crocodile, said:

"Do you think it possible for you to call up enough crocodiles to
form a line from this island across the sea to Inaba?"

The crocodile thought for a moment and then answered:

"Of course, it is possible."

"Then do try," said the artful hare, "and I will count the number
from here!"

The crocodile, who was very simple-minded, and who hadn't the least
idea that the hare intended to play a trick on him, agreed to do
what the hare asked, and said:

"Wait a little while I go back into the sea and call my company
together!"

The crocodile plunged into the sea and was gone for some time. The
hare, meanwhile, waited patiently on the shore. At last the
crocodile appeared, bringing with him a large number of other
crocodiles.

"Look, Mr. Hare!" said the crocodile, "it is nothing for my friends
to form a line between here and Inaba. There are enough crocodiles
to stretch from here even as far as China or India. Did you ever see
so many crocodiles?"

Then the whole company of crocodiles arranged themselves in the
water so as to form a bridge between the Island of Oki and the
mainland of Inaba. When the hare saw the bridge of crocodiles, he
said:

"How splendid! I did not believe this was possible. Now let me count
you all! To do this, however, with your permission, I must walk over
on your backs to the other side, so please be so good as not to
move, or else I shall fall into the sea and be drowned!"

So the hare hopped off the island on to the strange bridge of
crocodiles, counting as he jumped from one crocodile's back to the
other:

"Please keep quite still, or I shall not be able to count. One, two,
three, four, five, six. seven, eight, nine--"

Thus the cunning hare walked right across to the mainland of Inaba.
Not content with getting his wish, he began to jeer at the
crocodiles instead of thanking them, and said, as he leapt off the
last one's back:

"Oh! you stupid crocodiles, now I have done with you!"

And he was just about to run away as fast as he could. But he did
not escape so easily, for so soon as the crocodiles understood that
this was a trick played upon them by the hare so as to enable him to
cross the sea, and that the hare was now laughing at them for their
stupidity, they became furiously angry and made up their minds to
take revenge. So some of them ran after the hare and caught him.
Then they all surrounded the poop little animal and pulled out all
his fur. He cried out loudly and entreated them to spare him, but
with each tuft of fur they pulled out they said:

"Serve you right!"

When the crocodiles had pulled out the last bit of fur, they threw
the poor hare on the beach, and all swam away laughing at what they
had done.

The hare was now in a pitiful plight, all his beautiful white fur
had been pulled out, and his bare little body was quivering with
pain and bleeding all over. He could hardly move, and all he could
do was to lie on the beach quite helpless and weep over the
misfortune that had befallen him. Notwithstanding that it was his
own fault that had brought all this misery and suffering upon the
white hare of Inaba, any one seeing the poor little creature could
not help feeling sorry for him in his sad condition, for the
crocodiles had been very cruel in their revenge.

Just at this time a number of men, who looked like King's sons,
happened to pass by, and seeing the hare lying on the beach crying,
stopped and asked what was the matter.

The hare lifted up his head from between his paws, and answered
them, saying:

"I had a fight with some crocodiles, but I was beaten, and they
pulled out all my fur and left me to suffer here--that is why I am
crying."

Now one of these young men had a bad and spiteful disposition. But
he feigned kindness, and said to the hare:

"I feel very sorry for you. If you will only try it, I know of a
remedy which will cure your sore body. Go and bathe yourself in the
sea, and then come and sit in the wind. This will make your fur grow
again, and you will be just as you were before."

Then all the young men passed on. The hare was very pleased,
thinking that he had found a cure. He went and bathed in the sea and
then came out and sat where the wind could blow upon him.

But as the wind blew and dried him, his skin became drawn and
hardened, and the salt increased the pain so much that he rolled on
the sand in his agony and cried aloud.

Just then another King's son passed by, carrying a great bag on his
back. He saw the hare, and stopped and asked why he was crying so
loudly.

But the poor hare, remembering that he had been deceived by one very
like the man who now spoke to him, did not answer, but continued to
cry.

But this man had a kind heart, and looked at the hare very
pityingly, and said:

"You poor thing! I see that your fur is all pulled out and that your
skin is quite bare. Who can have treated you so cruelly?"

When the hare heard these kind words he felt very grateful to the
man, and encouraged by his gentle manner the hare told him all that
had befallen him. The little animal hid nothing from his friend, but
told him frankly how he had played a trick on the crocodiles and how
he had come across the bridge they had made, thinking that he wished
to count their number: how he had jeered at them for their
stupidity, and then how the crocodiles had revenged themselves on
him. Then he went on to say how he had been deceived by a party of
men who looked very like his kind friend: and the hare ended his
long tale of woe by begging the man to give him some medicine that
would cure him and make his fur grow again.

When the hare had finished his story, the man was full of pity
towards him, and said:

"I am very sorry for all you have suffered, but remember, it was
only the consequence of the deceit you practiced on the crocodiles."

"I know," answered the sorrowful hare, "but I have repented and made
up my mind never to use deceit again, so I beg you to show me how I
may cure my sore body and make the fur grow again."

"Then I will tell you of a good remedy," said the man. "First go and
bathe well in that pond over there and try to wash all the salt from
your body. Then pick some of those kaba flowers that are growing
near the edge of the water, spread them on the ground and roll
yourself on them. If you do this the pollen will cause your fur to
grow again, and you will be quite well in a little while."

The hare was very glad to be told what to do, so kindly. He crawled
to the pond pointed out to him, bathed well in it, and then picked
the kaba flowers growing near the water, and rolled himself on them.

To his amazement, even while he was doing this, he saw his nice
white fur growing again, the pain ceased, and he felt just as he had
done before all his misfortunes.

The hare was overjoyed at his quick recovery, and went hopping
joyfully towards the young man who had so helped him, and kneeling
down at his feet, said:

"I cannot express my thanks for all you have done for me! It is my
earnest wish to do something for you in return. Please tell me who
you are?"

"I am no King's son as you think me. I am a fairy, and my name is
Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto," answered the man, "and those beings who
passed here before me are my brothers. They have heard of a
beautiful Princess called Yakami who lives in this province of
Inaba, and they are on their way to find her and to ask her to marry
one of them. But on this expedition I am only an attendant, so I am
walking behind them with this great big bag on my back."

The hare humbled himself before this great fairy Okuni-nushi-no-
Mikoto, whom many in that part of the land worshiped as a god.

"Oh, I did not know that you were Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto. How kind
you have been to me! It is impossible to believe that that unkind
fellow who sent me to bathe in the sea is one of your brothers. I am
quite sure that the Princess, whom your brothers have gone to seek,
will refuse to be the bride of any of them, and will prefer you for
your goodness of heart. I am quite sure that you will win her heart
without intending to do so, and she will ask to be your bride."

Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto took no notice of what the hare said, but
bidding the little animal goodby, went on his way quickly and soon
overtook his brothers. He found them just entering the Princess's
gate.

Just as the hare had said, the Princess could not be persuaded to
become the bride of any of the brothers, but when she looked at the
kind brother's face she went straight up to him and said:

"To you I give myself," and so they were married.

This is the end of the story. Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto is worshiped by
the people in some parts of Japan, as a god, and the hare has become
famous as "The White Hare of Inaba." But what became of the
crocodiles nobody knows.

'THE QUARREL OF TEE MONKEY AND THE CRAB' JAPNESE BED TIME STORIES

THE QUARREL OF TEE 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 uneatable 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 river-side. 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 any one 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 river bank, 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
at 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 persimmon-seed. The young crab knew that monkeys liked
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. Second 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 all that had happened. He besought the
mortar with tears to help him avenge his father's death. The mortar
was very sorry when he heard the woful 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 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 consequences 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 settlement and crept about
as slyly as possible near the crab's house and tried to hear the
neighbors' gossip round about. He wanted to find out what the crabs
were saving about their chief's death, for the old crab had been the
chief of the tribe. But he heard nothing and said to himself:

"They 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 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 secret the 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 honor, and bids you come to participate in
it as you were one of his best friends. My master hopes you will
honor 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 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 honor 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 wicked monkey laughed aloud at 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 honor 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 and welcome him. As soon as the bows 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 honor.

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 tearoom he left him and retired. Time passed 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 fire-place 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 all fell down on the 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 pitcher 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.

'THE JELLY FISH AND THE MONKEY' JAPNESE TALES FOR KIDS

THE JELLY FISH AND THE MONKEY


Long, long ago, in old Japan, the Kingdom of the Sea was governed by
a wonderful King. He was called Rin Jin, or the Dragon King of the
Sea. His power was immense, for he was the 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 Rin Jin 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 jadestone and chrysoprase, and
the floors were of the finest mother-of-pearl. But the Dragon King,
in spite of his wide-spreading 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 phosphorus shone with double brilliancy in
honor 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 nurses' 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 Rin Jin'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 Rin Jin.

"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!"

"Something must be done," said the King, and calling his chief
steward he consulted him on the matter.

The chief steward thought for some time, and then, as if struck by a
sudden thought, said joyfully:

"I know what we must do! There is the kurage (jelly fish). 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 jelly fish was then summoned to the King's presence, and was
told by His Majesty what was required of him.

The jelly fish, on being told of the unexpected mission which was to
be intrusted 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 jelly fish.

"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 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 jelly fish.

"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?" queried kurage 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 jelly fish, 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 jelly fish. "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 jelly fish slowly walked towards the pine-tree. In those
ancient days the jelly fish 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 kurage or jelly fish. 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 jelly fish.

"I am very glad to see you," said the monkey.

"By the bye," said the jelly fish, "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 surely 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 jelly fish.

"Is it so beautiful as all that?" asked the monkey in astonishment.

Then the jelly fish 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 tree step by step so
as not to lose a word of the wonderful story.

"I have got him at last!" thought the jelly fish, 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 splendid
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 jelly fish, and taking the monkey on his back he
stepped into the sea.

"Keep very still, Mr. monkey," said the jelly fish. "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 jelly fish skimming through the waves with
the monkey sitting on his back. When they were about half-way, the
jelly fish, 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 jelly fish wanted with a liver.

"That is the most important thing of all," said the stupid jelly
fish, "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 jelly fish.

The monkey grew more and more curious and suspicious, and urged the
jelly fish 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 jelly fish, 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 jelly fish.

The poor monkey was horrified when he learnt 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 it 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 and 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 jelly fish:

"What a pity it was, Mr. Jelly Fish, 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 jelly fish.

"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 jelly fish.

"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. To-day,
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 jelly fish was very disappointed when he heard this, for he
believed every word the monkey said. The monkey was of no good
without a liver. Finally the jelly fish 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 jelly fish 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. Thus persuaded, the
jelly fish turned his course towards the Monkey Island once more.

No sooner had the jelly fish reached the shore than the sly monkey
landed, and getting up into the pine-tree where the jelly fish had
first seen him, he cut several capers amongst the branches with joy
at being safe home again, and then looking down at the jelly fish
said:

"So many thanks for all the trouble you have taken! Please present
my compliments to the Dragon King on your return!"

The jelly fish 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 jelly fish, now very
discouraged.

"That promise was false, and anyhow it is now broken!" answered the
monkey. Then he began to jeer at the jelly fish 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 jelly fish 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 jelly fish 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 jelly
fish. 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 Monkey Island, and then they
asked him where the monkey was.

Now the day of reckoning had come for the jelly fish. 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 jelly fish 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 jelly fish, 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 jelly fish, 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 jelly fish
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 jelly fishes, his descendants have all been soft and boneless
just as you see them to-day thrown up by the waves high upon the
shores of Japan.

'THE STORY OF THE OLD MAN WHO MADE WITHERED TREES TO FLOWER' JAPNESE STORY FOR CHILDREN

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 tit-bit. 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 happened to look 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 a
large yenoki 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
yenoki tree, he said to the dog, threateningly:

"If there were 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 his tree as well as under his neighbor's, 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, he 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 be 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 woful surprise, but he was too
good and gentle to reproach his bad neighbor. Learning that Shiro
was buried under the yenoki 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, than 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
tasted 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 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 some one knocking at his
door, and going to the porch to see who it was he was surprised to
see a Knight standing there. This Knight 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 every
one in his service had tried all manner of means to revive it, none
took effect. The Knight 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 Knight, "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 Knight 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, every one 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 Hana-
Saka-Jijii, 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 fire-place 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 along:

"Here comes the wonderful man who can 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 Hana-Saka-Jijii passing. I have nothing to do to-
day. Let him try his art again; it will amuse me to look on."

So the retainers went out and brought in the impostor before their
Lord. The satisfaction of 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 Hana-Saka-Jijii?"

And the envious neighbor answered with a lie:

"Yes, my Lord!"

"That is strange!" said the Daimio. "I thought there was only one
Hana-Saka-Jijii in the world! Has he now some disciples?"

"I am the true Hana-Saka-Jijii. The one who came to you before was
only my disciple!" replied the old man again.

"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 Hana-Saka-Jijii at once and put him in
prison for an impostor. 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 the 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.