The Hare of Inaba
NOW, THERE were once eighty-one brothers, who were Princes in the land. They were all jealous of one another, each one wishing to be King, to rule over the others, and over the whole Kingdom. Besides this, each one wanted to marry the same Princess. She was the Princess of Yakami in Inaba.
At last they made up their minds that they would go together to Inaba, and each one try to persuade the Princess to marry him. Although eighty of these brothers were jealous of one another, yet they all agreed in hating, and being unkind to the eighty-first, who was good and gentle, and did not like their rough, quarrelsome ways. When they set out upon their journey, they made the poor eighty-first brother walk behind them, and carry the bag, just as if he had been their servant, although he was their own brother, and as much a Prince as any of them all.
By and by, the eighty Princes came to Cape Keta, and there they found a poor hare, with all his fur plucked out, lying down very sick and miserable. The eighty Princes said to the hare:
“We will tell you what you should do. Go and bathe in the sea water, and then lie down on the slope of a high mountain, and let the wind blow upon you. That will soon make your fur grow, we promise you.”
So the poor hare believed them, and went and bathed in the sea, and afterwards lay down in the sun and the wind to dry. But, as the salt water dried, the skin of his body all cracked and split with the sun and the wind, so that he was in terrible pain, and lay there crying, in a much worse state than he was before.
Now the eighty-first brother was a long way behind the others, because he had the luggage to carry, but at last he came up staggering under the weight of the heavy bag. When he saw the hare he asked:
When he saw the hare he asked: “Why are you lying there crying?”
“Why are you lying there crying?”
“Oh dear!” said the hare, “just stop a moment and I will tell you all my story. I was in the island of Oki, and I wanted to cross over to this land. I didn’t know how to get over, but at last I hit upon a plan. I said to the crocodiles:
“‘Let us count how many crocodiles there are in the sea, and how many hares there are in the land. And now to begin with the crocodiles. Come, every one of you, and lie down in a row, across from this island to Cape Keta, then I will step upon each one, and count you as I run across. When I have finished counting you, we can count the hares, and then we shall know whether there are most hares, or most crocodiles.’
“The crocodiles came and lay down in a row. Then I stepped on them and counted them as I ran across, and was just going to jump on shore, when I laughed and said, ‘You silly crocodiles, I don’t care how many of you there are. I only wanted a bridge to get across by.’ Oh! why did I boast until I was safe on dry land? For the last crocodile, the one which lay at the very end of the row, seized me, and plucked off all my fur.”
“And serve you right too, for being so tricky,” said the eighty-first brother. “However, go on with your story.”
“As I was lying here crying,” continued the hare, “the eighty Princes who went by before you, told me to bathe in salt water, and lie down in the wind. I did as they told me, but I am ten times worse than before, and my whole body is smarting and sore.”
Then the eighty-first brother said to the hare, “Go quickly now to the river, it is quite near. Wash yourself well with the fresh water, then take the pollen of the sedges growing on the river bank, spread it about on the ground, and roll among it; if you do this, your skin will heal, and your fur grow again.”
So the hare did as he was told; and this time he was quite cured, and his fur grew thicker than ever.
Then the hare said to the eighty-first brother, “As for those eighty Princes, your brothers, they shall not get the Princess of Inaba. Although you carry the bag, yet your Highness shall at last get both the princess and the country.”
Which things came to pass, for the Princess would have nothing to do with those eighty bad brothers, but chose the eighty-first who was kind and good. Then he was made King of the country, and lived happily all his life.
My Lord Bag-o’-Rice
ONCE UPON a time there was a brave warrior, called My Lord Bag-o’-Rice, who spent all his time in waging war against the King’s enemies.
One day, when he had sallied forth to seek adventures, he came to an immensely long bridge, spanning a river just at the place where it flowed out of a fine lake. When he set foot on this bridge, he saw that a Serpent twenty feet long was lying there basking in the sun, in such a way that he could not cross the bridge without treading on it.
Most men would have taken to their heels at so frightful a sight. But My Lord Bag-o’-Rice was not to be daunted. He simply walked right ahead,—squash, scrunch, over the Serpent’s body.
Instantly the Serpent turned into a tiny Dwarf, who, humbly bowing the knee, and knocking the planks of the bridge three times with his head in token of respect, said: “My Lord! you are a man, you are! For many a weary day have I lain here, waiting for one who should avenge me on my enemy. But all who saw me were cowards, and ran away. You will avenge me, will you not? I live at the bottom of this lake, and my enemy is a Centipede who dwells at the top of yonder mountain. Come along with me, I beseech you. If you help me not, I am undone.”
The Warrior was delighted at having found such an adventure as this. He willingly followed the Dwarf to his summer-house beneath the waters of the lake. It was all curiously built of coral and metal sprays in the shape of sea-weed and other water-plants, with freshwater crabs as big as men, and water-monkeys, and newts, and tadpoles as servants and bodyguards. When they had rested awhile, dinner was brought in on trays shaped like the leaves of water-lilies. The dishes were watercress leaves,—not real ones, but much more beautiful than real ones; for they were of water-green porcelain with a shimmer of gold; and the chop-sticks were of beautiful petrified wood like black ivory. As for the wine in the cups, it looked like water; but, as it tasted all right, what did its looks signify?
Well, there they were, feasting and singing; and the Dwarf had just pledged the Warrior in a goblet of hot steaming wine, when thud! thud! thud! like the tramp of an army, the fearful monster of whom the Dwarf had spoken was heard approaching. It sounded as if a continent were in motion; and on either side there seemed to be a row of a thousand men with lanterns. But the Warrior was able to make out, as the danger drew nearer, that all this fuss was made by a single creature, an enormous Centipede over a mile long; and that what had seemed like men with lanterns on either side of it, were in reality its own feet, of which it had exactly one thousand on each side of its body, all of them glistening and glinting with the sticky poison that oozed out of every pore.
There was no time to be lost. The Centipede was already half-way down the mountain. So the Warrior snatched up his bow, a bow so big and heavy that it would have taken five ordinary men to pull it,—fitted an arrow into the bow-notch, and let fly.
He was not one ever to miss his aim. The arrow struck right in the middle of the monster’s forehead. But alas! it rebounded as if that forehead had been made of brass.
A second time did the Warrior take his bow and shoot. A second time did the arrow strike and rebound; and now the dreadful creature was down to the water’s edge, and would soon pollute the lake with its filthy poison. Said the Warrior to himself: “Nothing kills Centipedes so surely as human spittle.” And with these words, he spat on to the tip of the only arrow that remained to him (for there had been but three in his quiver). This time again the arrow hit the Centipede right in the middle of its forehead. But instead of rebounding, it went right in and came out again at the back of the creature’s head, so that the Centipede fell down dead, shaking the whole country-side like an earthquake, and the poisonous light on its two thousand feet darkening to a dull glare like that of the twilight of a stormy day.
A second time did the Warrior take his bow and shoot.
Then the Warrior found himself wafted back to his own ca
stle; and round him stood a row of presents, on each of which were inscribed the words “From your grateful dwarf.” One of these presents was a large bronze bell, which the Warrior, who was a religious man as well as a brave one, hung up in the temple that contained the tombs of his ancestors. The second was a sword, which enabled him ever after to gain the victory over all his enemies. The third was a suit of armor which no arrow could penetrate. The fourth was a roll of silk, which never grew smaller, though he cut off large pieces from time to time to make himself a new court dress.
The fifth was a bag of rice, which, though he took from it day after day for meals for himself, his family, and his trusty retainers, never got exhausted as long as he lived.
And it was from this fifth and last present that he took his name and title of “My Lord Bag-o’-Rice”; for all the people thought that there was nothing stranger in the whole world than this wonderful bag, which made its owner such a rich and happy man.
The Wooden Bowl
ONCE UPON a time there lived an old couple who had seen better days. Formerly they had been well to do, but misfortune came upon them, through no fault of their own, and in their old age they had become so poor that they were only just able to earn their daily bread.
One joy, however, remained to them. This was their only child, a good and gentle maiden, of such wonderful beauty that in all that land she had no equal.
At length the father fell sick and died, and the mother and her daughter had to work harder than ever. Soon the mother felt her strength failing her, and great was her sorrow at the thought of leaving her child alone in the world.
The beauty of the maiden was so dazzling that it became the cause of much thought and anxiety to the dying mother. She knew that in one so poor and friendless as her child it would be likely to prove a misfortune instead of a blessing.
Feeling her end to be very near, the mother called the maiden to her bedside, and, with many words of love and warning, entreated her to continue pure and good and true, as she had ever been. She told her that her beauty was a perilous gift which might become her ruin, and commanded her to hide it, as much as possible, from the sight of all men.
That she might do this the better the mother placed on her daughter’s head a lacquered wooden bowl, which she warned her on no account to take off. The bowl overshadowed the maiden’s face, so that it was impossible to tell how much beauty was hidden beneath it.
After her mother’s death the poor child was, indeed, forlorn; but she had a brave heart, and at once set about earning her living by hard work in the fields.
As she was never seen without the wooden bowl, which, indeed, appeared a very funny head-dress, she soon began to be talked about, and was known in all the country round as the Maid with the Bowl on her Head.
She was known in all the country round
as the Maid with the Bowl on her Head.
Proud and bad people scorned and laughed at her, and the idle young men of the village made fun of her, trying to peep under the bowl, and even to pull it off her head. But it seemed firmly fixed, and none of them succeeded in taking it off, or in getting more than a glimpse of the beautiful face beneath.
The poor girl bore all this rude usage patiently, was always diligent at her work, and when evening came crept quietly to her lonely home. Now, one day, when she was at work in the harvest field of a rich farmer, who owned most of the land in that part, the master himself drew near. He was struck by the gentle and modest behavior of the young girl, and by her quickness and diligence at her work.
Having watched her all that day, he was so much pleased with her that he kept her in work until the end of the harvest. After that, winter having now come on, he took her into his own house to wait upon his wife, who had long been sick, and seldom left her bed.
Now the poor orphan had a happy home once more, for both the farmer and his wife were very kind to her. As they had no daughter of their own, she became more like the child of the house than a hired servant. And, indeed, no child could have made a gentler or more tender nurse to a sick mother than did this little maid to her mistress.
After some time the master’s eldest son came home on a visit to his father and mother. He had been living in Kyoto, the rich and gay city of the Mikado, where he had studied and learned much. Wearied with feasting and pleasure, he was glad to come back for a little while to the quiet home of his childhood. But week after week passed, and, to the surprise of his friends, he showed no desire to return to the more stirring life of the town.
The truth is, that no sooner had he set eyes on the Maid with the Bowl on her Head than he was filled with curiosity to know all about her. He asked who and what she was, and why she was always seen with such a curious and unbecoming head-dress.
He was touched by her sad story, but could not help laughing at her odd fancy of wearing the bowl on her head. But, as he saw day by day her goodness and gentle manners, he laughed no more. And one day, having managed to take a sly peep under the bowl, he saw enough of her beauty to make him fall deeply in love with her. From that moment he vowed that none other than the Maid with the Bowl should be his wife. His relations, however, would not hear of the match. “No doubt the girl was all very well in her way,” they said, “but after all she was only a servant, and no fit mate for the son of the house.” They had always said she was being made too much of, and would one day or another turn against her benefactors. Now their words were coming true, and besides, why did she persist in wearing that ridiculous thing on her head? Doubtless to get a reputation for beauty, which most likely she did not possess. Indeed, they were almost certain that she was quite plain-looking.
He fell deeply in love with her
and vowed to make the Maid with the Bowl his wife.
The two old maiden aunts of the young man were especially bitter, and never lost an opportunity of repeating the hard and unkind things which were said about the poor orphan. Her mistress even, who had been so good to her, now seemed to turn against her, and she had no friend left except her master, who would really have been pleased to welcome her as his daughter, but did not dare to say as much. The young man, however, remained firm to his purpose. As for all the stories which they brought him, he gave his aunts to understand that he considered them little better than a pack of ill-natured inventions.
At last, seeing him so steadfast in his determination, and that their opposition only made him the more obstinate, they were fain to give in, though with a bad grace.
A difficulty now arose where it was least to have been expected. The poor little Maid with the Bowl on her Head upset all their calculations by gratefully, but firmly, refusing the hand of her master’s son, and no persuasion on his part could induce her to change her mind.
Great was the astonishment and anger of the relations. That they should be made fools of in this way was beyond all bearing. What did the ungrateful young minx expect; that her master’s son wasn’t good enough for her? Little did they know her true and loyal heart. She loved him dearly, but she would not bring discord and strife into the home which had sheltered her in her poverty; for she had marked the cold looks of her mistress, and very well understood what they meant. Rather than bring trouble into that happy home she would leave it at once, and for ever. She told no one, and shed many bitter tears in secret, yet she remained true to her purpose. Then, that night when she had cried herself to sleep, her mother appeared to her in a dream, and told her that she might, without scruple, yield to the prayers of her lover and to the wishes of her own heart. She woke up full of joy, and when the young man once more entreated her she answered yes, with all her heart. “We told you so,” said the mother and the aunts, but the young man was too happy to mind them. So the wedding-day was fixed, and the grandest preparations were made for the feast. Some unpleasant remarks were doubtless to be heard about the beggar maid and her wooden bowl, but the young man took no notice of them, and only congratulated himself upon his good fortune. Now, when the wedding-day had at
last come, and all the company were assembled and ready to assist at the ceremony, it seemed high time that the bowl should be removed from the head of the bride. She tried to take it off, but found, to her dismay, that it stuck fast, nor could her utmost efforts even succeed in moving it; and, when some of the relations persisted in trying to pull off the bowl, it uttered loud cries and groans as of pain.
The bridegroom comforted and consoled the maiden, and insisted that they should go on with the ceremony without more ado.
And with the bowl fell a shower of precious stones: pearls, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, which had been hidden beneath it.
And now came the moment when the wine cups were brought in, and the bride and bridegroom must drink together the “three times three,” in token that they were now become man and wife. Hardly had the bride put her lips to the saké cup when the wooden bowl burst with a loud noise, and fell in a thousand pieces upon the floor. And with the bowl fell a shower of precious stones, pearls, and diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, which had been hidden beneath it, besides gold and silver in abundance, which now became the marriage portion of the maiden.
But what astonished the wedding guests more even than this vast treasure was the wonderful beauty of the bride, made fully known for the first time to her husband and to all the world. Never was there such a merry wedding, such a proud and happy bridegroom, or such a lovely bride.
The Tea-Kettle
LONG AGO, as I’ve heard tell, there dwelt at the temple of Morinji, in the Province of Kotsuke, a holy priest.
The Boy Who Drew Cats and Other Japanese Fairy Tales Page 3
