Favorite Folktales From Around the World

“Dear, dear! What a dreadful thing it would be!” said the mother, and she sat down aside of the daughter, and started a-crying too.

  Then after a bit the father began to wonder that they didn’t come back, and he went down into the cellar to look after them himself, and there they two sat a-crying, and the beer running all over the floor. “What ever is the matter?” says he.

  “Why,” says the mother, “look at that horrid mallet. Just suppose, if our daughter and her sweetheart was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!”

  “Dear, dear, dear! so it would!” said the father, and he sat himself down aside of the other two, and started a-crying.

  Now the gentleman got tired of stopping up in the kitchen by himself, and at last he went down into the cellar too, to see what they were after; and there they three sat a-crying side by side, and the beer running all over the floor.

  And he ran straight and turned the tap. Then he said, “What ever are you three doing, sitting there crying, and letting the beer run all over the floor?”

  “Oh,” says the father, “look at that horrid mallet! Suppose you and our daughter was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him!” And then they all started a-crying worse than before.

  But the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and reached up and pulled out the mallet, and then he said, “I’ve traveled many miles, and I never met three such big sillies as you three before; and now I shall start out on my travels again, and when I can find three bigger sillies than you three, then I’ll come back and marry your daughter.” So he wished them goodbye, and started off on his travels, and left them all crying because the girl had lost her sweetheart.

  Well, he set out, and he traveled a long way, and at last he came to a woman’s cottage that had some grass growing on the roof. And the woman was trying to get her cow to go up a ladder to the grass, and the poor thing durst not go. So the gentleman asked the woman what she was doing.

  “Why, lookye,” she said, “look at all that beautiful grass. I’m going to get the cow onto the roof to eat it. She’ll be quite safe, for I shall tie a string round her neck and pass it down the chimney, and tie it to my wrist as I go about the house, so she can’t fall off without my knowing it.”

  “Oh, you poor silly!” said the gentleman, “you should cut the grass and throw it down to the cow!”

  But the woman thought it was easier to get the cow up the ladder than to get the grass down, so she pushed her and coaxed her and got her up, and tied a string round her neck, and passed it down the chimney, and fastened it to her own wrist. And the gentleman went on his way, but he hadn’t gone far when the cow tumbled off the roof, and hung by the string tied round her neck, and it strangled her. And the weight of the cow tied to her wrist pulled the woman up the chimney, and she stuck fast halfway, and was smothered in the soot.

  Well, that was one big silly.

  And the gentleman went on and on, and he went to an inn to stop the night, and they were so full at the inn that they had to put him in a double-bedded room, and another traveler was to sleep in the other bed. The other man was a very pleasant fellow, and they got very friendly together; but in the morning, when they were both getting up, the gentleman was surprised to see the other hang his trousers on the knobs of the chest of drawers and run across the room and try to jump into them, and he tried over and over again, and he couldn’t manage it; and the gentleman wondered what ever he was doing it for. At last he stopped and wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Oh dear,” he says, “I do think trousers are the most awkwardest kind of clothes that ever were. I can’t think who could have invented such things. It takes me the best part of an hour to get into mine every morning, and I get so hot! How do you manage yours?”

  So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and showed him how to put them on; and he was very much obliged to him, and said he should never have thought of doing it that way.

  So that was another big silly.

  Then the gentleman went on his travels again; and he came to a village, and outside the village there was a pond, and round the pond was a crowd of people: And they had got rakes, and brooms, and pitchforks, reaching into the pond; and the gentleman asked what was the matter.

  “Why,” they say, “matter enough! Moon’s tumbled into the pond, and we can’t rake her out anyhow!”

  So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and told them to look up into the sky, and that it was only the shadow in the water. But they wouldn’t listen to him, and abused him shamefully, and he got away as quick as he could.

  So there was a whole lot of sillies bigger than them three sillies at home.

  So the gentleman turned back home again, and married the farmer’s daughter, and if they don’t live happy forever after, that’s nothing to do with you or me.

  NASR-ED-DIN HODJA IN THE PULPIT

  Turkey

  Nasr-ed-Din Hodja one day addressed his congregation from the pulpit in the following words: “I beseech you to tell me truly, O brethren! O true believers! if what I am going to say to you is already known to you.”

  And the answer came, as in one voice, from his congregation, that they did not know, and that it was not possible for them to know, what the Hodja was going to say to them. “Then,” quoth the preacher, “of what use to you or to me is an unknown subject?” And he descended from the pulpit and left the mosque.

  On the following Friday his congregation, instead of having decreased, had greatly increased, and their anxiety to hear what he was going to say was felt in the very atmosphere.

  The Hodja ascended the pulpit and said, “O brethren! O true believers! I beseech you to tell me truly if what I am going to say to you is already known to you.”

  The answer that came to the Hodja was so spontaneous as to suggest prearrangement. They all shouted, “Yes, Hodja, we do know what you are going to say to us.”

  “That being the case,” quoth the Hodja, “there is no need either of you wasting your time or of me wasting my time.” And, descending from the pulpit, he left the mosque. His congregation, having prayed, also left gradually, one by one and in groups.

  On the following Friday Nasr-ed-Din Hodja again mounted the pulpit, and saw that his mosque was so crowded that not a nook or corner in it was empty. He addressed his congregation in exactly the same manner. “O brethren! O true believers!” said he, “I ask you to tell me truly if what I am going to say is already known to you?”

  And again the answer of his numerous congregation had evidently been prepared beforehand, for one half of them rose and said, “Yes, Hodja, we do know what you are going to say to us,” and the other half rose and said, “O Hodja effendi, how could we poor ignorant people know what you intend to say to us?”

  The Hodja answered, “It is well said; and now if the half that knows what I am going to say would explain to the other half what it is, I would be deeply grateful, for, of course, it will be unnecessary for me to say anything.”

  Whereupon he descended from the pulpit and left the mosque.

  LAZY JACK

  England

  Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived with his mother on a dreary common. They were very poor, and the old woman got her living by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do nothing but bask in the sun in the hot weather, and sit by the corner of the hearth in the wintertime. His mother could not persuade him to do anything for her, and was obliged at last to tell him that if he did not begin to work for his porridge, she would turn him out to get his living as he could.

  This threat at length roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself for the day to a neighboring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home, never having had any money in his possession before, he lost it in passing over a b
rook. “You stupid boy,” said his mother, “you should have put it in your pocket.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.

  The next day Jack went out again, and hired himself to a cow keeper, who gave him a jar of milk for his day’s work. Jack took the jar and put it into the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all, long before he got home. “Dear me!” said the old woman. “You should have carried it on your head.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.

  The following day Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed to give him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening, Jack took the cheese, and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home the cheese was completely spilled, part of it being lost, and part matted with his hair. “You stupid lout,” said his mother, “you should have carried it very carefully in your hands.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.

  The day after this Jack again went out, and hired himself to a baker who would give him nothing for his work but a large tomcat. Jack took the cat, and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in a short time pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go. When he got home, his mother said to him, “You silly fellow, you should have tied it with a string, and dragged it along after you.” “I’ll do so another time,” said Jack.

  The next day Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded his labors by the handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tied it to a string, and trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that by the time he had got home the meat was completely spoiled. His mother was this time quite out of patience with him, for the next day was Sunday, and she was obliged to content herself with cabbage for her dinner. “You ninnyhammer,” said she to her son, “you should have carried it on your shoulder.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.

  On the Monday Jack went once more, and hired himself to a cattle keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Although Jack was very strong, he found some difficulty in hoisting the donkey on his shoulders, but at last he accomplished it and began walking slowly home with his prize. Now it happened that in the course of his journey there lived a rich man with his only daughter, a beautiful girl, but unfortunately deaf and dumb; she had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said she would never recover till somebody made her laugh. Many tried without success, and at last the father, in despair, offered her in marriage to the first man who could make her laugh. This young lady happened to be looking out of the window, when Jack was passing with the donkey on his shoulders, the legs sticking up in the air; and the sight was so comical and strange, that she burst out into a great fit of laughter, and immediately recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed, and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Jack, who was thus made a rich gentleman. They lived in a large house, and Jack’s mother lived with them in great happiness until she died.

  CHELM JUSTICE

  Jewish

  A great calamity befell Chelm one day. The town cobbler murdered one of his customers. So he was brought before the judge, who sentenced him to die by hanging.

  When the verdict was read a townsman arose and cried out, “If Your Honor pleases—you have sentenced to death the town cobbler! He’s the only one we’ve got. If you hang him who will mend our shoes?”

  “Who? Who?” cried all the people of Chelm with one voice.

  The judge nodded in agreement and reconsidered his verdict.

  “Good people of Chelm,” he said, “What you say is true. Since we have only one cobbler it would be a great wrong against the community to let him die. As there are two roofers in the town, let one of them be hanged instead!”

  THOSE STUBBORN SOULS, THE BIELLESE

  Italy

  A farmer was on his way down to Biella one day. The weather was so stormy that it was next to impossible to get over the roads. But the farmer had important business and pushed onward in the face of the driving rain.

  He met an old man, who said to him, “A good day to you! Where are you going, my good man, in such haste?”

  “To Biella,” answered the farmer, without slowing down.

  “You might at least say, ‘God willing.’ ”

  The farmer stopped, looked the old man in the eye, and snapped, “God willing, I’m on my way to Biella. But even if God isn’t willing, I still have to go there all the same.”

  Now the old man happened to be the Lord. “In that case you’ll go to Biella in seven years,” he said. “In the meantime, jump into this swamp and stay there for seven years.”

  Suddenly the farmer changed into a frog and jumped into the swamp.

  Seven years went by. The farmer came out of the swamp, turned back into a man, clapped his hat on his hat, and continued on his way to market.

  After a short distance he met the old man again. “And where are you going, my good man?”

  “To Biella.”

  “You might say, ‘God willing.’ ”

  “If God wills it, fine. If not, I know the consequence and can now go into the swamp unassisted.”

  Nor for the life of him would he say one word more.

  THE DROVERS WHO LOST THEIR FEET

  Mexico

  This is how the people from Lagos are. There were five drovers traveling together. They were tired. They sat down against a tree, and all of them stretched out their legs. They said, “What are we going to do? We won’t be able to get up any more. We are no longer able to tell which of those feet belong to which. What are we going to do? We’ll just have to stay here.”

  Whoo! There they were, pretty hungry and thirsty there, and they couldn’t get up.

  A man passed by, and he says, “What are you doing there?”

  “Well, here we are. We can’t get up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we don’t know which feet belong to which.”

  “For goodness’ sake! How much will you give me if I tell you?”

  “Well, we’ll give you something, as long as you tell us which of those feet belong to which.”

  He took a big pack needle and began to stick them with it. He stuck one of them.

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s yours. Pull it in.”

  He stuck another one of them.

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s yours. That one. Pull it in.”

  And he stuck all of them the same way until he had the very last one on his feet.

  THE OLD MAN AND WOMAN WHO SWITCHED JOBS

  Sweden

  Once there was an old man, just like any other old man. This old man worked in the forest, chopping wood, and burning charcoal, while his old woman stayed at home spinning, cooking, and taking care of the house. In this way their days passed one after another. But the old man always complained that he had to labor and toil all day long to support both of them while the old woman merely sat at home cooking porridge, eating, and enjoying herself. Even though the old woman told him that there was plenty to do at home as well and that the old man would be badly fed and clothed if she did not look after the house, the old man turned a deaf ear; he was convinced that he alone was pulling their entire load.

  One day, after they’d bickered longer than usual, the old woman said, “Have it your way! Tomorrow we’ll switch jobs. I’ll go to the forest and cut wood for the fire, and you’ll stay home and do my chores.”

  This suited the old man just fine. “I’ll take good care of the house,” he said. “But how you’ll fare in the woods is another story.”

  Early the next morning the old woman said, “Don’t forget to bake the bread, churn the butter, watch the cow, and cook the greens for dinner.”

  These were all mere trifles, thought the old man, and so they parted. The old woman took the old man’s axe and went off to the forest while the old man began to build a fire under the oven and make the dough. When he thought it was ready, he began to bake it. But what sort of bread it was going to be was hard to say, for he forgot the yeast and put the loaves into th
e oven without first sweeping away the ashes.

  The old man thought he’d managed the baking very well, and the thought of fresh bread awakened his appetite.

  “Fresh bread is fine,” he said to himself, “but if you have some bacon to go along with it, it tastes even better!”

  So the next moment he went to the storehouse to fetch their last piece of bacon. But since the bacon was salty, he wanted something to drink with it. He put the bacon on the cellar steps and went downstairs.

  Just as he was taking the plug out of the beer barrel, a dog came by and grabbed the bacon. The old man certainly didn’t want to lose it, so he jumped up and ran off after the dog. But as he was running he discovered that he still had the plug in his hand, and he abandoned the bacon and ran back so that he could at least save the beer.

  But it was too late. The barrel was empty and all the good beer had run out. This made him very unhappy, but he comforted himself with the thought that the old woman probably wasn’t doing any better in the forest. Even if he had to do without bacon and beer, at least he still had the nice fresh-baked bread. With bread to eat, life is complete! as the saying goes.

  But his comfort was short-lived. When he got inside the hut he found the bread burned to a crisp. Not a single bite was left for him to taste. It was a terrible state of affairs.

  “This is no good at all,” he moaned. “If only I’d let mother stay at home! If I’m doing this badly, how might she be doing in the forest? By now she may have chopped off both arms and legs!”

  But there was no time for thinking. The sun was already high in the sky, and he had to cook greens for dinner. For greens one must have something green, the old man said to himself, and as he couldn’t find anything else green, he took the old woman’s new homespun jacket, chopped it into little bits, and put the pieces in the pot.