by Howard Pyle
“Turn the edge of the blade against the three giants.”
Thus said the book, and the lad did so, and there they lay all three of them as dead as stocks.
I know that this is true which I tell, because since then there have been no cruel giants to keep a body from getting a taste of the Fruit of Happiness now and then, if a body chooses to travel that far to find it. But that is neither here nor there, and what I have to tell is this:
The young prince rode away towards home with the White Bird sitting behind him, the Sword of Brightness hanging by his side, and the Fruit of Happiness in his pocket.
By and by he came to the place where the two houses stood, the one on the one side of the road, and the one on the other, and there he took out his Book of Knowledge to have a peep at it, and this was what it said:
“Buy no black sheep.”
“Prut!” says the prince, “what should I want with black sheep I should like to know?”
By and by he met a great crowd, and in the midst of all the rest were his two brothers with their hands tied behind them with stout ropes.
And what were they going to do with the two? That was what the prince would like to know.
“Why,” said those who held them, “they have spent all their money at the great house over yonder, and have run up a score for good things besides, and now they are packing off to prison because they cannot pay what they owe.”
“Come, come,” says the prince, “let them go and I will pay their reckoning;” and so he did, and that was what the Book of Wisdom meant by buying black sheep.
After that they all stepped homeward, right foot foremost; for since the young prince had brought the Fruit of Happiness along with him, there was no need of the other brothers going to look for it.
By and by they felt weary and sat down by the roadside to rest, and as they sat there the youngest prince fell asleep. While he slept the elder brothers stole away the Sword of Brightness and the Fruit of Happiness. Then they wakened him and made him strip off his fine clothes, and gave him a parcel of rags and tatters fit for no one but a beggar, and he had to put them on or go without.
As for the White Bird, they made her vow and swear that she would say nothing of this. Then off they marched with her and with the Sword of Brightness, and left the prince with never a stitch or a thread that was worth the having.
“See,” said they, as soon as they came home, “not only have we brought the Fruit of Happiness, but the Sword of Brightness and the White Bird into the bargain.”
As for the youngest brother, they told the king that he had stopped over at the tavern yonder, and had spent all his money in eating and drinking, just as they themselves had really done.
But the White Bird did nothing but weep and weep, and neither this brother nor that could draw the Sword of Brightness from its leathern scabbard. And when the king came to taste the Fruit of Happiness, it was as bitter as gall. So, after all the two gained nothing by what they had done.
But the young prince was not for giving up all that he had lost, without trying to get what he could back again. Off he marched in his rags and tatters until he came to the castle where the king, his father lived. Up he stepped to the door and knocked, but nobody would let him in because he looked like nothing but a beggar. So down he sat beside the gate of the castle garden, since he could not come into the house.
After a while the folks came out, one by one and two by two, to walk in the garden and take the air, and all the time the prince sat there and nobody knew him.
Last of all came the old king, and with him walked the White Bird. The king was for passing the lad by as all the rest had done. But as soon as the White Bird saw him, she knew who he was and ran to him and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Here is my own sweetheart,” said she, “and he has come back to me again.”
The prince told the king all that had happened from beginning to end, and how it really was he who had found the White Bird, the Sword of Brightness, and the Fruit of Happiness.
“Yes, yes,” says the king, “that is all very well, but it is just the tale that your brothers tell; now can you draw the Sword of Brightness from the leathern scabbard?”
“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I can do that easily enough.” So the sword was brought and — whisk — he whipped the blade out of the scabbard so that the light of it dazzled the eyes of everybody that looked upon it.
Then the king saw what had happened as plain as the nose on his face, and was for punishing the elder brothers as they deserved, but nobody could find them, for as soon as they heard that the youngest prince had come home again they packed off without waiting to learn more news.
And why do I call this the story of the White Bird? Listen: any Tom or Jake or Harry might have found the Sword of Brightness or the Fruit of Happiness; but you may depend upon it that nobody but a real prince could ever have found the White Bird.
How the Good Gifts Were Used by Two
THIS is the way that this story begins:
Once upon a time there was a rich brother and a poor brother, and the one lived across the street from the other.
The rich brother had all of the world’s gear that was good for him and more besides; as for the poor brother, why, he had hardly enough to keep soul and body together, yet he was contented with his lot, and contentment did not sit back of the stove in the rich brother’s house; wherefore in this the rich brother had less than the poor brother.
Now these things happened in the good old times when the saints used to be going hither and thither in the world upon this business and upon that. So one day, who should come travelling to the town where the rich brother and the poor brother lived, but Saint Nicholas himself.
Just beside the town gate stood the great house of the rich brother; thither went the saint and knocked at the door, and it was the rich brother himself who came and opened it to him.
Now, Saint Nicholas had had a long walk of it that day, so that he was quite covered with dust, and looked no better than he should. Therefore he seemed to be only a common beggar; and when the rich brother heard him ask for a night’s lodging at his fine, great house, he gaped like a toad in a rain-storm. What! Did the traveller think that he kept a free lodging house for beggars? If he did he was bringing his grist to the wrong mill; there was no place for the likes of him in the house, and that was the truth. But yonder was a poor man’s house across the street, if he went over there perhaps he could get a night’s lodging and a crust of bread. That was what the rich brother said, and after he had said it he banged to the door, and left Saint Nicholas standing on the outside under the blessed sky.
So now there was nothing for good Saint Nicholas to do but to go across the street to the poor brother’s house, as the other had told him to do. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the poor brother who came and opened it for him.
“Come in, come in!” says he, “come in and welcome!”
So in came Saint Nicholas, and sat himself down behind the stove where it was good and warm, while the poor man’s wife spread before him all that they had in the house — a loaf of brown bread and a crock of cold water from the town fountain.
“And is that all that you have to eat?” said Saint Nicholas.
Yes; that was all that they had.
“Then, maybe, I can help you to better,” said Saint Nicholas. “So bring me hither a bowl and a crock.”
You may guess that the poor man’s wife was not long in fetching what he wanted. When they were brought the saint blessed the one and passed his hand over the other.
Then he said, “Bowl be filled!” and straightway the bowl began to boil up with a good rich meat pottage until it was full to the brim. Then the saint said, “Bowl be stilled!” and it stopped making the broth, and there stood as good a feast as man could wish for.
Then Saint Nicholas said, “Crock be filled!” and the crock began to bubble up with the best of beer. Then he said, “Cr
ock be stilled!” and there stood as good drink as man ever poured down his throat.
Down they all sat, the saint and the poor man and the poor man’s wife, and ate and drank till they could eat and drink no more, and whenever the bowl and the crock grew empty, the one and the other became filled at the bidding.
The next morning the saint trudged off the way he was going, but he left behind him the bowl and the crock, so that there was no danger of hunger and thirst coming to that house.
Well, the world jogged along for a while, maybe a month or two, and life was as easy for the poor man and his wife as an old shoe. One day the rich brother said to his wife. “See now, Luck seems to be stroking our brother over yonder the right way; I’ll just go and see what it all means.”
So over the street he went, and found the poor man at home. Down he sat back of the stove and began to chatter and talk and talk and chatter, and the upshot of the matter was that, bit by bit, he dragged out the whole story from the poor man. Then nothing would do but he must see the bowl and the crock at work. So the bowl and the crock were brought and set to work and — Hui! — how the rich brother opened his eyes when he saw them making good broth and beer of themselves.
And now he must and would have that bowl and crock. At first the poor brother said “No,” but the other bargained and bargained until, at last, the poor man consented to let him have the two for a hundred dollars. So the rich brother paid down his hundred dollars, and off he marched with what he wanted.
When the next day had come, the rich brother said to his wife, “Never you mind about the dinner to-day. Go you into the harvest-field, and I will see to the dinner.” So off went the wife with the harvesters, and the husband stayed at home and smoked his pipe all the morning, for he knew that dinner would be ready at the bidding. So when noontide had come he took out the bowl and the crock, and, placing them on the table, said, “Bowl be filled! crock be filled!” and straightway they began making broth and beer as fast as they could.
In a little while the bowl and the crock were filled, and then they could hold no more, so that the broth and beer ran down all over the table and the floor. Then the rich brother was in a pretty pickle, for he did not know how to bid the bowl and the crock to stop from making what they were making. Out he ran and across the street to the poor man’s house, and meanwhile the broth and beer filled the whole room until it could hold no more, and then ran out into the gutters so that all the pigs and dogs in the town had a feast that day.
“Oh, dear brother!” cried the rich man to the poor man, “do tell me what to do or the whole town will soon be smothered in broth and beer.”
But, no; the poor brother was not to be stirred in such haste; they would have to strike a bit of a bargain first. So the upshot of the matter was that the rich brother had to pay the poor brother another hundred dollars to take the crock and the bowl back again.
See, now, what comes of being covetous!
As for the poor man, he was well off in the world, for he had all that he could eat and drink, and a stockingful of money back of the stove besides.
Well, time went along as time does, and now it was Saint Christopher who was thinking about taking a little journey below. “See, brother,” says Saint Nicholas to him, “if you chance to be jogging by yonder town, stop at the poor man’s house, for there you will have a warm welcome and plenty to eat.”
But when Saint Christopher came to the town, the rich man’s house seemed so much larger and finer than the poor man’s house, that he thought that he would ask for lodging there.
But it fared the same with him that it had with Saint Nicholas. Prut! Did he think that the rich man kept free lodgings for beggars? And — bang! — the door was slammed in his face, and off packed the saint with a flea in his ear.
Over he went to the poor man’s house, and there was a warm welcome for him, and good broth and beer from the bowl and the crock that Saint Nicholas had blessed. After he had supped he went to bed, where he slept as snug and warm as a mouse in the nest.
Then the good wife said to the husband, “See, now, the poor fellow’s shirt is none too good for him to be wearing. I’ll just make him another while he is sleeping, so that he’ll have a decent bit of linen to wear in the morning.”
So she brought her best roll of linen out of the closet, and set to work stitching and sewing, and never stopped till she had made the new shirt to the last button. The next morning, when the saint awoke, there lay the nice, new, clean shirt, and he put it on and gave thanks for it.
Before he left the house the poor man took him aside, and emptied the stockingful of silver money on the table, and bade the saint take what he wanted, “for,” says he, “a penny or two is never amiss in the great world.”
After that it was time for the traveller to be jogging; but before he went he said, “See, now, because you have been so kind and so good to a poor wayfarer, I will give you a blessing; whatever you begin doing this morning, you shall continue doing till sunset.” So saying, he took up his staff and went his way.
After Saint Christopher had gone the poor man and his wife began talking together as to what would be best for them to be doing all of the day, and one said one thing and the other said the other, but every plug was too small for the hole, as we say in our town, for nothing seemed to fit the case.
“Come, come,” said the good woman, “here we are losing time that can never be handled again. While we are talking the matter over I will be folding the linen that is left from making the shirt.”
“And I,” said the good man, “will be putting the money away that the holy man left behind him.”
So the wife began folding the linen into a bundle again, and the man began putting away the money that he had offered in charity. Thus they began doing, and thus they kept on doing; so that by the time that the evening had come the whole house was full of fine linen, and every tub and bucket and mug and jug about the place was brimming with silver money. As for the good couple, their fortune was made, and that is the heart of the whole matter in four words.
That night who should come over from across the street but the rich brother, with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. But when he saw how very rich the poor man had become all of a sudden, and what a store of fine linen and silver money he had, he was so wonder-struck that he did not know whither to look and what to think.
Dear heart’s sake alive! Where did all these fine things come from? That was what he should like to know.
Oh! there was nothing to hide in the matter, and the poor man told all about what had happened.
As for the rich brother, when he found how he had shut his door in the face of good-fortune, he rapped his head with his knuckles because he was so angry at his own foolishness. However, crying never mended a torn jacket, so he made the poor brother promise that if either of the saints came that way again, they should be sent over to his house for a night’s lodging, for it was only fair and just that he should have a share of the same cake his brother had eaten.
So the poor brother promised to do what the other wanted, and after that the rich brother went back home again.
Well, a year and a day passed, and then, sure enough, who should come along that way but both the saints together, arm in arm. Rap! tap! tap! they knocked at the poor man’s door, for they thought that where they had had good lodging before they could get it again. And so they could and welcome, only the poor brother told them that his rich brother across the street had asked that they should come and lodge at the fine house when they came that way again.
The saints were willing enough to go to the rich brother’s house, though they would rather have stayed with the other. So over they went, and when the rich brother saw them coming he ran out to meet them, and shook each of them by the hand, and bade them to come in and sit down back of the stove where it was warm.
But you should have seen the feast that was set for the two saints at the rich brother’s house! I can only say that
I never saw the like, and I only wish that I had been there with my legs under the table. After supper they were shown to a grand room, where each saint had a bed all to his very own self, and before they were fairly asleep the rich man’s wife came and took away their old shirts, and laid a shirt of fine cambric linen in the place of each. When the next morning came and the saints were about to take their leave, the rich brother brought out a great bag of golden money, and bade them to stuff what they would of it into their pockets.
Well, all this was as it should be, and before the two went on their way they said that they would give the same blessing to him and his wife that they had given to the other couple — that whatsoever they should begin doing that morning, that they should continue doing until sunset.
After that they put on their hats and took up their staffs, and off they plodded.
Now the rich brother was a very envious man, and was not contented to do only as well as his brother had done, no indeed! He would do something that would make him even richer than counting out money for himself all day. So down he sat back of the stove and began turning the matter over in his mind, and rubbing up his wits to make them the brighter.
In the meantime the wife said to herself, “See, now, I shall be folding fine cambric linen all day, and the pigs will have to go with nothing to eat. I have no time to waste in feeding them, but I’ll just run out and fill their troughs with water at any rate.”
So out she went with a bucketful of water which she began pouring into the troughs for the pigs. That was the first thing she did, and after that there was no leaving off, but pour water she must until sunset.
All this while the man sat back of the stove, warming his wits and saying to himself, “Shall I do this? shall I do that?” and answering “No” to himself every time. At last he began wondering what his wife was doing, so out he went to find her. Find her he did, for there she was pouring out water to the pigs. Then if anybody was angry it was the rich man. “What!” cried he, “and is this the way that you waste the gifts of the blessed saints?”