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Oscar-winner Roberto Benigni tackles a character dear to Italians: `Pinocchio'
Friday October 04, 2002
By FRANCES D'EMILIO
Associated Press Writer
ROME (AP) Roberto Benigni, whose ``Life is Beautiful'' won three Oscars, has now put his puckish, high-energy stamp on a figure dear to Italians Pinocchio causing many here to wonder how he'll make their beloved puppet come to life.
On Friday, Benigni gave the Italian media their first look at ``Pinocchio.''
While boldness has been his trademark the Holocaust story ``Life is Beautiful'' employed whimsy and comic touches Benigni apparently decided to play it safe with ``Pinocchio,'' according to those who saw the preview Friday.
``This Pinocchio doesn't seem to have any intention to astound but only to tell a story that everyone knows in the simplest and most entertaining ways possible,'' the Italian news agency ANSA said.
The film, which opens in Italy next week and in the United States at Christmas, is the costliest Italian production ever, at more than $40 million. It was shot in virtual secrecy at the former chemical-plant-turned-studio that Benigni used when making ``Life is Beautiful.''
For Italians, Carlo Collodi's 1880 book, ``The Adventures of Pinocchio,'' is more than just a classic tale for children. For generations, the story of how a naughty, headstrong puppet transforms itself into a responsible little boy has been a rite of passage, a kind of morality primer on how to grow up.
``It sounds terrible to say it's like the Gospel or the Bible,'' said Sister Lorenzina, a nun whose second-grade class last year put on a stage version of Collodi's work. ``But it has those values, and the children read it.''
As he did in ``Life is Beautiful,'' Benigni doubles as star and director in ``Pinocchio,'' and his wife Nicoletta Braschi returns here as his foil, as the blue-haired fairy.
With his irrepressible impishness, Benigni was expected to give a highly physical interpretation likely to make the audience forget they are watching an adult perform, and not a boy.
``I feel so much like Pinocchio that when I see a tree, I yell out, `Daddy,''' the actor said on state TV Friday.
State radio recently teased listeners with some playful snippets of the score, by Nicola Piovani, whose music snagged one of the 1999 Oscars for ``Life is Beautiful.'' (The movie also won best foreign film, and Benigni was named best actor.)
The 49-year-old Benigni told a news conference Friday that he and Federico Fellini, the Italian film maestro of fantasy who died in 1993, had discussed doing Pinocchio together. ``On his deathbed, he told me: `You will do Pinocchio,''' Benigni said.
Before photographers, Benigni pranced about, pretending to make his nose grow. In ``Pinocchio,'' special effects do the trick.
The Italian media have given the film a big buildup, with one newsweekly, Panorama, predicting that ``Pinocchio'' will ``launch a debate on our national character,'' which it said resembled the puppet's qualities:
``A puppet outside of the rules, clever, lying and highly reckless. But in the end, he squeaks by.''
Marketers have prepared toys and T-shirts for the Christmas shopping season using Benigni's version of Pinocchio, and also a slew of books, including at least one psychoanalytical interpretation of the children's tale.
Some are skeptical about the spinoffs. Gianfranco Falchi, whose family-run toy store in Rome carries classic-looking Pinocchio toys, said he didn't order any of the Benigni-style toys.
``They don't respond to the image children have of Pinocchio,'' he said. ``They have Benigni's face, not the classic one.''
While many Americans' image of Pinocchio and his story might come from Walt Disney's 1940 animated classic, Italians tend to have a different image, based on the books they had as children. Many have precise images of how Pinocchio should dress, such as just what kind of a print shirt he should wear.
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The Happy Prince
Oscar Wilde
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed.'He is as beautiful as a weather****,' remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic taste; 'only not quite so useful,' he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
'Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?' asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. 'The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.'
'I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy', muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
'He looks just like an angel,' said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.
'How do you know?' said the Mathematical Master, 'you have never seen one.'
'Ah! but we have, in our dreams,' answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
'Shall I love you said the Swallow', who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
'It is a ridiculous attachment,' twittered the other Swallows, 'she has no money, and far too many relations;' and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. 'She has no conversation,' he said, 'and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.' And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. I admit that she is domestic,' he continued, 'but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.'
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'Will you come away with me?' he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
'You have been trifling with me,' he cried, 'I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!' and he flew away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. 'Where shall I put up?' he said 'I hope the town has made preparations.'
Then he saw the statue on the tall column. 'I will put up there,' he cried; 'it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.' So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
'I have a golden bedroom,' he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing, a large drop of water fell on him.'What a curious thing!' he cried, 'there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.'
Then another drop fell.
'What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?' he said; 'I must look for a good chimney-pot,' and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
'Who are you?' he said.
'I am the Happy Prince.'
'Why are you weeping then?' asked the Swallow; 'you have quite drenched me.'
'When I was alive and had a human heart,' answered the statue, 'I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.'
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'What, is he not solid gold?' said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
'Far away,' continued the statue in a low musical voice,'far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-fowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.'
'I am waited for in Egypt,' said the Swallow. 'My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.'
'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince,'will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.
'I don't think I like boys,' answered the Swallow. 'Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.'
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. 'It is very cold here,' he said 'but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.'
'Thank you, little Swallow,' said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. 'How wonderful the stars are,' he said to her,'and how wonderful is the power of love!' 'I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,' she answered; 'I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.'
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He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. 'How cool I feel,' said the boy, 'I must be getting better;' and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. 'It is curious,' he remarked, 'but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.'
'That is because you have done a good action,' said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.
'What a remarkable phenomenon,' said the Professor of Omithology as he was passing over the bridge. 'A swallow in winter!' And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

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'To-night I go to Egypt,' said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, 'What a distinguished stranger!' so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. 'Have you any commissions for Egypt?' he cried; 'I am just starting.'
'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'will you not stay with me one night longer?'
'I am waited for in Egypt,' answered the Swallow. To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.'
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'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince,'far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.'
'I will wait with you one night longer,' said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. 'Shall I take him another ruby?'
'Alas! I have no ruby now,' said the Prince; 'my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.'
'Dear Prince,' said the Swallow,'I cannot do that;' and he began to weep.
'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'do as I command you.'
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
'I am beginning to be appreciated,' he cried; 'this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,' and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. 'Heave a-hoy!' they shouted as each chest came up. 'I am going to Egypt!' cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
'I am come to bid you good-bye,' he cried.
'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince,'will you not stay with me one night longer?'
'It is winter,' answered the Swallow, and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.
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'In the square below,' said the Happy Prince, 'there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.
'I will stay with you one night longer,' said the Swallow,'but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.'
'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'do as I command you.'
So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. 'What a lovely bit of glass,' cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. 'You are blind now,' he said, 'so I will stay with you always.'
'No, little Swallow,' said the poor Prince, 'you must go away to Egypt.'
'I will stay with you always,' said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
'Dear little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.'
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. 'How hungry we are' they said. 'You must not lie here,' shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
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Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
'I am covered with fine gold,' said the Prince, 'you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.'
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. 'We have bread nod' they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more.'Good-bye, dear Prince!' he murmured, 'will you let me kiss your hand?'
'I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.'
'It is not to Egypt that I am going,' said the Swallow. I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?'
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: 'Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!' he said.
'How shabby indeed!' cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
'The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,' said the Mayor; 'in fact, he is little better than a beggar!'
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'Little better than a beggar,' said the Town Councillors.
'And there is actually a dead bird at his feet,' continued the Mayor. 'We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.' And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. 'As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,' said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. 'We must have another statue, of course,' he said, 'and it shall be a statue of myself.'
'Of myself,' said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
'What a strange thing!' said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.'This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.' So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
'Bring me the two most precious things in the city,' said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
'You have rightly chosen,' said God,'for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.'

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A FRENCH TAR-BABY
BY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
The fable was one of the first tributaries to the stream of story-
telling. Primitive man with a kind of fine democracy claimed
kinship with the animals about him. So Hiawatha learned the
language and the secrets of birds and beasts,
"Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them Hiawatha's Brothers."
Out of this intimacy and understanding grew the fable, wherein
animals thought, acted, and talked in the terms of human life.
This kind of story is illustrated by the "Fables" of Aesop, the
animal stories of Ernest Thompson-Seton, the "Jungle Books" of
Rudyard Kipling and the "Uncle Remus" stories of Joel Chandler
Harris. The fable is a tale rather than a true short-story.
A FRENCH TAR-BABY
[Footnote: From "Evening Tales," by Joel Chandler Harris.
Copyright, 1893, by Charles Scribner's Sons.]
In the time when there were hobgoblins and fairies, Brother Goat
and Brother Rabbit lived in the same neighborhood, not far from
each other.
Proud of his long beard and sharp horns, Brother Goat looked on
Brother Rabbit with disdain. He would hardly speak to Brother
Rabbit when he met him, and his greatest pleasure was to make his
little neighbor the victim of his tricks and practical jokes. For
instance, he would say:
"Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Fox," and this would cause Brother
Rabbit to run away as hard as he could. Again he would say:
"Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Wolf," and poor Brother Rabbit would
shake and tremble with fear. Sometimes he would cry out:
"Brother Rabbit, here is Mr. Tiger," and then Brother Rabbit would
shudder and think that his last hour had come.
Tired of this miserable existence, Brother Rabbit tried to think
of some means by which he could change his powerful and terrible
neighbor into a friend. After a time he thought he had discovered
a way to make Brother Goat his friend, and so he invited him to
dinner.
Brother Goat was quick to accept the invitation. The dinner was a
fine affair, and there was an abundance of good eating. A great
many different dishes were served. Brother Goat licked his mouth
and shook his long beard with satisfaction. He had never before
been present at such a feast.
"Well, my friend," exclaimed Brother Rabbit, when the dessert was
brought in, "how do you like your dinner?"
"I could certainly wish for nothing better," replied Brother Goat,
rubbing the tips of his horns against the back of his chair; "but
my throat is very dry and a little water would hurt neither the
dinner nor me."
"Gracious!" said Brother Rabbit, "I have neither wine-cellar nor
water. I am not in the habit of drinking while I am eating."
"Neither have I any water, Brother Rabbit," said Brother Goat.
"But I have an idea! If you will go with me over yonder by the big
poplar, we will dig a well."
"No, Brother Goat," said Brother Rabbit, who hoped to revenge
himself--"no, I do not care to dig a well. At daybreak I drink the
dew from the cups of the flowers, and in the heat of the day I
milk the cows and drink the cream."
"Well and good," said Brother Goat. "Alone I will dig the well,
and alone I will drink out of it."
"Success to you, Brother Goat," said Brother Rabbit,
"Thank you kindly, Brother Rabbit."
Brother Goat then went to the foot of the big poplar and began to
dig his well. He dug with his forefeet and with his horns, and the
well got deeper and deeper. Soon the water began to bubble up and
the well was finished, and then Brother Goat made haste to quench
his thirst. He was in such a hurry that his beard got in the
water, but he drank and drank until he had his fill.
Brother Rabbit, who had followed him at a little distance, hid
himself behind a bush and laughed heartily. He said to himself:
"What an innocent creature you are!"
The next day, when Brother Goat, with his big beard and sharp
horns, returned to his well to get some water, he saw the tracks
of Brother Rabbit in the soft earth. This put him to thinking. He
sat down, pulled his beard, scratched his head, and tapped himself
on the forehead.
"My friend," he exclaimed after a while, "I will catch you yet."
Then he ran and got his tools (for Brother Goat was something of a
carpenter in those days) and made a large doll out of laurel wood.
When the doll was finished, he spread tar on it here and there, on
the right and on the left, and up and down. He smeared it all over
with the sticky stuff, until it was as black as a Guinea negro.
This finished, Brother Goat waited quietly until evening. At
sunset he placed the tarred doll near the well, and ran and hid
himself behind the trees and bushes. The moon had just risen, and
the heavens twinkled with millions of little star-torches.
Brother Rabbit, who was waiting in his house, believed that the
time had come for him to get some water, so he took his bucket and
went to Brother Goat's well. On the way he was very much afraid
that something would catch him. He trembled when the wind shook
the leaves of the trees. He would go a little distance and then
stop and listen; he hid here behind a stone, and there behind a
tuft of grass.
At last he arrived at the well, and there he saw the little negro.
He stopped and looked at it with astonishment. Then he drew back a
little way, advanced again, drew back, advanced a little, and
stopped once more.
"What can that be?" he said to himself. He listened, with his long
ears pointed forward, but the trees could not talk, and the bushes
were dumb. He winked his eyes and lowered his head:
"Hey, friend! Who are you?" he asked.
The tar-doll didn't move. Brother Rabbit went up a little closer,
and asked again:
"Who are you?"
The tar-doll said nothing. Brother Rabbit breathed more at ease.
Then he went to the brink of the well, but when he looked in the
water the tar-doll seemed to look in too. He could see her
reflection in the water. This made Brother Rabbit so mad that he
grew red in the face.
"See here!" he exclaimed, "If you look in this well I'll give you
a rap on the nose!"
Brother Rabbit leaned over the brink of the well, and saw the tar-
doll smiling at him in the water. He raised his right hand and hit
her--bam! His hand stuck.
"What's this?" exclaimed Brother Rabbit. "Turn me loose, imp of
Satan! If you do not, I will rap you on the eye with my other
hand."
Then he hit her--bim! The left hand stuck also. Then Brother
Rabbit raised his right foot, saying:
"Mark me well, little Congo! Do you see this foot? I will kick you
in the stomach if you do not turn me loose this instant."
No sooner said than done. Brother Rabbit let fly his right foot--
vip! The foot stuck, and he raised the other.
"Do you see this foot?" he exclaimed. "If I hit you with it, you
will think a thunderbolt has struck you."
Then he kicked her with the left foot, and it also stuck like the
other, and Brother Rabbit held fast his Guinea negro.
"Watch out, now!" he cried. "I've already butted a great many
people with my head. If I butt you in your ugly face I'll knock it
into a jelly. Turn me loose! Oho! You don't answer?" Bap!
"Guinea girl!" exclaimed Brother Rabbit, "Are you dead? Gracious
goodness! How my head does stick!"
When the sun rose, Brother Goat went to his well to find out
something about Brother Rabbit. The result was beyond his
expectations.
"Hey, little rogue, big rogue!" exclaimed Brother Goat. "Hey,
Brother Rabbit! What are you doing there? I thought you drank the
dew from the cups of the flowers, or milk from the cows. Aha,
Brother Rabbit! I will punish you for stealing my water."
"I am your friend," said Brother Rabbit; "don't kill me."
"Thief, thief!" cried Brother Goat, and then he ran quickly into
the woods, gathered up a pile of dry limbs, and made a great fire.
He took Brother Rabbit from the tar-doll, and prepared to burn him
alive. As he was passing a thicket of brambles with Brother Rabbit
on his shoulders, Brother Goat met his daughter Beledie, who was
walking about in the fields.
"Where are you going, Papa, muffled up with such a burden? Come
and eat the fresh grass with me, and throw wicked Brother Rabbit
in the brambles."
Cunning Brother Rabbit raised his long ears and pretended to be
very much frightened.
"Oh, no, Brother Goat!" he cried. "Don't throw me in the brambles.
They will tear my flesh, put out my eyes, and pierce my heart. Oh,
I pray you, rather throw me in the fire."
"Aha, little rogue, big rogue! Aha, Brother Rabbit!" exclaimed
Brother Goat, exultingly, "You don't like the brambles? Well,
then, go and laugh in them," and he threw Brother Rabbit in
without a feeling of pity.
Brother Rabbit fell in the brambles, leaped to his feet, and began
to laugh.
"Ha-ha-ha! Brother Goat, what a simpleton you are!--ha-ha-ha! A
better bed I never had! In these brambles I was born!"
Brother Goat was in despair, but he could not help himself.
Brother Rabbit was safe.
A long beard is not always a sign of intelligence.

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THE LADY OR THE TIGER
[Footnote: From "The Lady or the Tiger?" by Frank R. Stockton.
Copyright, 1886, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Copyright, 1914, by
Marie Louise and Frances A. Stookton.]
In the very olden time, there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose
ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the
progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large,
florid, and untrammelled, as became the half of him which was
barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an
authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied
fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and
when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When
every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly
in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but
whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of
their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing
pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight, and crush
down uneven places.
Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become
semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of
manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined
and cultured.
But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself.
The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an
opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to
enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict
between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far
better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the
people. This vast amphitheatre, with its encircling galleries, its
mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic
justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the
decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance.
When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to
interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed
day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king's
arena--a structure which well deserved its name; for, although its
form and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely
from the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew no
tra***ion to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy,
and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and
action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism.
When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king,
surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state
on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him
opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheatre.
Directly opposite him, on the other side of the enclosed space,
were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty
and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these
doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased.
He was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the
aforementioned impartial and incorruptible chance. If he opened
the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and
most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon
him, and tore him to pieces, as a punishment for his guilt. The
moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful
iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the hired
mourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast
audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly
their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair,
or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate.
But if the accused person opened the other door, there came forth
from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that
his Majesty could select among his fair subjects; and to this lady
he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It
mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or
that his affections might be engaged upon an object of his own
selection. The king allowed no such subordinate arrangements to
interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward. The
exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and
in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest,
followed by a band of choristers, and dancing maidens blowing
joyous airs on golden horns and treading an epithalamic measure,
advanced to where the pair stood side by side, and the wedding was
promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang
forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the
innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path,
led his bride to his home.
This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice.
Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out
of which door would come the lady. He opened either he pleased,
without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he
was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came
out of one door, and on some out of the other. The decisions of
this tribunal were not only fair--they were positively
determinate. The accused person was instantly punished if he found
himself guilty, and if innocent he was rewarded on the spot,
whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments
of the king's arena.
The institution was a very popular one. When the people gathered
together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether
they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding.
This element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which
it could not otherwise have attained. Thus the masses were
entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community
could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan; for did not
the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands?
This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most
florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his
own. As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and
was loved by him above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a
young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common
to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal maidens. This
royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was
handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom,
and she loved him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it
to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on
happily for many months, until, one day, the king happened to
discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to
his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into
prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena.
This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his
Majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the
workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a
case occurred--never before had a subject dared to love the
daughter of a king. In after years such things became commonplace
enough, but then they were, in no slight degree, novel and
startling.
The tiger cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage
and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be
selected for the arena, and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty
throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges,
in order that the young man might have a fitting bride in case
fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course,
everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged
had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor
any one else thought of denying the fact. But the king would not
think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the
workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delight and
satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would
be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in
watching the course of events which would determine whether or not
the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the
princess.

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The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered,
and thronged the great galleries of the arena, while crowds,
unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside
walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the
twin doors--those fateful portals, so terrible in their
similarity!
All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal
party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena.
Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum
of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so
grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved
him! What a terrible thing for him to be there!
As the youth advanced into the arena, he turned, as the custom
was, to bow to the king. But he did not think at all of that royal
personage; his eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the
right of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism
in her nature, it is probable that lady would not have been there.
But her intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent
on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the
moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide
his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or
day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with
it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character
than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case,
she had done what no other person had done--she had possessed
herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two
rooms behind those doors stood the cage of the tiger, with its
open front and in which waited the lady. Through these thick
doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was
impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to
the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them.
But gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret
to the princess.
Not only did she know in which room stood the lady, ready to
emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but
she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest
of the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of
the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of
aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess hated her.
Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair
creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her
lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived and
even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together. It
was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief
space. It may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could
she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her
eyes to the loved one of the princess, and, with all the intensity
of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of
wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and
trembled behind that silent door.
When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as
she sat there paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of
anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception
which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind
which door crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He
had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his
soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made
plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even
to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any
element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in
discovering this mystery, and the moment he looked upon her, he
saw she had succeeded.
Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question,
"Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he
stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked
in a flash; it must be answered in another.
Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised
her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No
one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man
in the arena.
He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the
empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held,
every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest
hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it.
Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of
that door, or did the lady?
The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to
answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us
through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to
find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of
the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded,
semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the
combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who
should have him?
How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started
in wild horror and covered her face with her hands as she thought
of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited
the cruel fangs of the tiger!
But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in
her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth and torn her hair
when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door
of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen
him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling
eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole
frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard
the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the
happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous
followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife
before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away
together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous
shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing
shriek was lost and drowned!
Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for
her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity?
And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood!
Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been
made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had
known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer,
and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to
the right.
The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered,
and it is not for me to presume to set up myself as the one person
able to answer it. So I leave it with all of you: Which came out
of the opened door--the lady or the tiger?

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The Story of Tam and Cam
Long, long ago there was a man who lost his wife and lived with his little girl named Tam. Then he married again a wicked woman. The little girl found this out on the first day after the wedding. There was a big banquet in the house, but Tam was shut up in a room all by herself instead of being allowed to welcome the guests and attend the feast.
Moreover, she had to go to bed without any supper.
Things grew worse when a new baby girl was born in the house. The step-mother adored Cam--for Cam was the name of the baby girl--and she told her husband so many lies about poor Tam that he would not have anything more to do with the latter.
"Go and stay away in the kitchen and take care of yourself, you naughty child," said the wicked woman to Tam.
And she gave the little girl a dirty wretched place in the kitchen, and it was there that Tam was to live and work. At night, she was given a torn mat and a ragged sheet as bed and coverlet. She had to rub the floors, cut the wood, feed the animals, do all the cooking, the washing up and many other things. Her poor little soft hands had large blisters, but she bore the pain without complaint. Her step-mother also sent her to deep forests to gather wood with the secret hope that the wild beasts might carry her off. She asked Tam to draw water from dangerously deep wells so that she might get drowned one day. The poor little Tam worked and worked all day till her skin became swarthy and her hair entangled. But Sometimes she went to the well to draw water, looked at herself in it, and was frightened to realize how dark and ugly she was. She then got some water in the hollow of her hand, washed her face and combed her long smooth hair with her fingers, and the soft white skin appeared again, and she looked very pretty indeed.
When the step-mother realized how pretty Tam could look, she hated her more than ever, and wished to do her more harm. One day, she asked Tam and her own daughter Cam to go fishing in the village pond.
"Try to get as many as you can," she said. "If you come back with only a few of them, you will get flogged and will be sent to bed without supper." Tam knew that these words were meant for her because the step-mother would never beat Cam, who was the apple of her eyes, while she always flogged Tam as hard as she could.
Tam tried to fish hard and by the end of the day, got a basket full of fish. In the meantime, Cam spent her time rolling herself in the tender grass, basking in the warm sunshine, picking up wild flowers, dancing and singing.
The sun set before Cam had even started her fishing. She looked at her empty basket and had a bright idea. "Sister, sister," she said to Tam, "your hair is full of mud. Why don't you step into the fresh water and get a good wash to get rid of it? Otherwise mother is going to scold you."
Tam listened to the advice, and had a good wash. But, in the meantime, Cam poured her sister's fish into her own basket and went home as quickly as she could. When Tam realized that her fish were stolen away, her heart sank and she began to cry bitterly. Certainly, her step-mother would punish her severely tonight!
Suddenly, a fresh and balmy wind blew, the sky looked purer and the clouds whiter and in front of her stood the smiling blue-robed Goddess of Mercy, carrying a lovely green willow branch with her. "What is the matter, dear child?" asked the Goddess in a sweet voice.
Tam gave her an account of her misfortune and added: "Most Noble Lady, what am I to do tonight when I go home? I am frightened to death, for my step-mother will not believe me, and will flog me very, very hard."
The Goddess of Mercy consoled her. "Your misfortune will be over soon. Have confidence in me and cheer up. Now, look at your basket to see whether there is anything left there."
Tam looked and saw a lovely small fish with red fins and golden eyes, and uttered a little cry of surprise. The Goddess told her to take the fish home, put it in the well at the back of the house, and feed it three times a day with what she could save from her own food.
Tam thanked the Goddess most gratefully and did exactly as she was told. Whenever she went to the well, the fish would appear on the surface to greet her. But should anyone else come, the fish would never show itself. Tam's strange behavior was noticed by her step-mother who spied on her, and went to the well to look for the fish which hid itself in the deep water. She decided to ask Tam to go to a far away spring to fetch some water, and taking advantage of the absence, she put on the latter's ragged clothes, went to call the fish, killed it and cooked it.
When Tam came back, she went to the well, called and called, but there was no fish to be seen except the surface of the water stained with blood. She leaned her head against the well and wept in the most miserable way. The Goddess of Mercy appeared again, with a face as sweet as a loving mother, and comforted her: "Do not cry, my child. Your step-mother has killed the fish, but you must try to find its bones and bury them in the ground under your mat. Whatever you may wish to possess, pray to them, and your wish will be granted."
Tam followed the advice and looked for the fish bones everywhere but could find none. "Cluck! cluck!" said a hen, "Give me some paddy and I will show you the bones.
Tam gave her a handful of paddy and the hen said, "Cluck! cluck! Follow me and I will take you to the place." When they came to the poultry yard, the hen scratched a heap of young leaves, uncovered the fish bones which Tam gladly gathered and buried accordingly. It was not long before she got gold and jewelry and dresses of such wonderful materials that they would have rejoiced the heart of any young girl.
When the Autumn Festival came, Tam was told to stay home and sort out the two big baskets of black and green beans that her wicked step-mother had mixed up.
"Try to get the work done," she was told, "before you can go to attend the Festival." Then the step-mother and Cam put on their most beautiful dresses and went out by themselves.
After they had gone a long way Tam lifted her tearful face and prayed: "O, benevolent Goddess of Mercy, please help me." At once, the soft-eyed Goddess appeared and with her magic green willow branch, turned little flies into sparrows which sorted the beans out for the young girl. In a short time, the work was done. Tam dried up her tears, arrayed herself in a glittering blue and silver dress. She now looked as beautiful as a princess, and went to the Festival.
Cam was very surprised to see her, and whispered to her mother: "Is that rich lady not strangely like my sister Tam?" When Tam realized that her step-mother and Cam were staring curiously at her, she ran away, but in such a hurry that she dropped one of her fine slippers which the soldiers picked up and took to the King.
The King examined it carefully and declared he had never seen such a work of art before. He made the ladies of the palace try it on, but the slipper was too small even for those who had the smallest feet. Then he ordered all the noblewomen of the kingdom to try it, but the slipper would fit none of them. In the end, word was sent that the woman who could wear the slipper would become Queen, that is, the King's First Wife.
Finally, Tam had a try and the slipper fitted her perfectly. She then wore both slippers, and appeared in her glittering blue and silver dress, looking extremely beautiful. She was then taken to Court with a big escort, became Queen and had an unbelievably brilliant and happy life. The step-mother and Cam could not bear to see her happy and would have killed her most willingly, but they were too afraid of the King to do so.
One day, at her father's anniversary, Tam went home to celebrate it with her family. At the time, it was the custom that, however great and important one might be, one was always expected by one's parents to behave exactly like a young and obedient child. The cunning step-mother had this in her mind and asked Tam to climb an areca tree to get some nuts for the guests. As Tam was now Queen, she could of course refuse, but she was a very pious and dutiful daughter, and was only glad to help. But while she was up on the tree, she felt that it was swaying to and fro in the strangest and most alarming manner.
"What are you doing?" She asked her step-mother.
"I am only trying to scare away the ants which might bite you, my dear child," was the reply. But in fact, the wicked step-mother was holding a sickle and cutting the tree which fell down in a crash, killing the poor Queen at once.
"Now we are rid of her," said the woman with a hateful and ugly laugh, "and she will never come back again. We shall report to the King that she has died in an accident and my beloved daughter Cam will become Queen in her stead!"
Things happened exactly the way she had planned, and Cam became now the King's first wife. But Tam's pure and innocent soul could not find any rest. It was turned into the shape of a nightingale which dwelt in the King's garden and sang sweet and melodious songs.
One day, one of the maids-of-honor in the Palace exposed the dragon-embroidered gown of the King to the sun, and the nightingale sang in her own gentle way: "0, sweet maid-of-honor, be careful with my Imperial Husband's gown and do not tear it by putting it on a thorny hedge." She then sang on so sadly that tears came into the King's eyes. The nightingale sang more sweetly still and moved the hearts of all who heard her.
At last, the King said: "Most delightful nightingale, if you were the soul of my beloved Queen, be pleased to settle in my wide sleeves."
Then the gentle bird went straight into the King's sleeves and rubbed her smooth head against the King's hand. The bird was now put in a golden cage near the King's bedroom. The King was so fond of her that he would stay all day long near the cage, listening to her melancholy and beautiful songs. As she sang her melodies to him, his eyes became wet with tears, and she sang more charmingly than ever.
Cam became jealous of the bird, and sought her mother's advice about it. One day, while the King was holding a council with his ministers, Cam killed the nightingale, cooked it and threw the feathers in the Imperial Garden.
"What is the meaning of this?" said the King when he came back to the Palace and saw the empty cage. There was great confusion and everybody looked for the nightingale but could not find it.
"Perhaps she was bored and has flown away to the woods," said Cam.
The King was very sad but there was nothing he could do about it, and resigned himself to his fate. But once more, Tam's restless soul was transformed into big, magnificent tree, which only bore a single fruit, but what a fruit! It was round, big and golden and had a very sweet smell.
An old woman passing by the tree and seeing the beautiful fruit, said: "Golden fruit, golden fruit, drop into the bag of this old woman. This one will keep you and enjoy your smell, but will never eat you." The fruit at once dropped into the old woman's bag. She brought it home, put it on the table to enjoy its sweet-scented smell. But the next day, to her great surprise, she found her house clean and tidy, and a delicious hot meal waiting for her when she came back from her errands as though some magic hand had done all this during her absence.
She then pretended to go out the following morning, but stealthily came back, hid herself behind the door and observed the house. She beheld a fair and slender lady coming out of the golden fruit and starting to tidy the house. She rushed in, tore the fruit peel up so that the fair lady could no longer hide herself in it. The young lady could not help but stay there and consider the old woman her own mother.
One day the King went on a hunting party and lost his way. The evening drew on, the clouds gathered and it was pitch dark when he saw the old woman's house and went in it for shelter. According to custom, the latter offered him some tea and betel. The King examined the delicate way the betel was prepared and asked: "Who is the person who made this betel, which looks exactly like the one prepared by my late beloved Queen?"
The old woman said in a trembling voice: "Son of Heaven, it is only my unworthy daughter."
The King then ordered the daughter to be brought to him and when she came and bowed to him, he realized, like in a dream, that it was Tam, his deeply regretted Queen Both of them wept after such a separation and so much unhappiness. The Queen was then taken back to the Imperial City, where she took her former rank, while Cam was completely neglected by the King.
Cam then thought: "If I were as beautiful as my sister, I would win the King's heart."
She asked the Queen: "Dearest Sister, how could I become as white as you?"
"It is very easy," answered the Queen. "You have only to jump into a big basin of boiling water to get beautifully white." Cam believed her and did as suggested. Naturally she died without being able to utter a word! When the step-mother heard about this she wept until she became blind. Soon, she died of a broken heart. The Queen survived both of them, and lived happily ever after, for she certainly deserved it

​

xin lỗi một chút, các mod để chủ đề này dính lên nhé, cái này dài ngoằng làm sao mà đọc 1 phát được
Thanks a lot.

THE PHOENIX AND THE CARAMBOLA TREE
A rich man died and left many houses and much silvery to his two sons, but the elder took it all except for a tiny thatched cottage and a small garden.
The younger son and his wife did not complain, for they did not want to cause a quarrel, and they continued to labor honestly in the fields.
In their small garden was a carambola tree that every year provided sweet tasting star fruit. By selling the fruit at the market they got some extra money to buy rice, and although their life was simple and hard they were very happy together. Because the fruit of the carambola was so sweet it attracted many birds. The birds were small and they did little damage, so the couple were content to share.
One day, a huge phoenix came. The couple were greatly disturbed, for this bird would surely eat up an important part of their livelihood very quickly.
They pleaded with the phoenix to spare their fruit. "That carambola tree is our most treasured possession. If you eat all that it bears how can we buy more rice?"
The phoenix answered:
"For each piece of fruit eaten,
A piece of gold will be returned.
Make a small bag to carry it,
I will return for you soon".
Three times that day the phoenix visited them and ate some fruit, and each time he sang the same song. Eventually the wife said to the husband, "Let us do as the phoenix says. I will make a small bag and we will wait and see what happens". The next day, the phoenix came to their garden and landed on the ground beside them.
"Do you have the small bag?" It asked.
The husband showed the bird the beautifully sewn small bag his wife had made and the phoenix said, "Bring the bag and climb onto my back".
The man was a little nervous, but he did as the phoenix bade and soon they were flying far from the shore. On and on they went until they came to a remote island. The phoenix glided gently to earth and told the man to fill his bag with what he wanted.
The younger brother looked in amazement, for the ground was littered with gold and precious stones. He filled his small bag, and soon he was carried back to his wife.
There was enough gold in the bag for the couple to build a small, comfortable home to replace the thatched cottage, and to buy some paddy fields. No longer were they hired laborers, but worked their own land and were very happy.
The elder brother had not visited them for a long time, so when he did he was astounded by his brother s good fortune. He listened in wonder to the tale about the phoenix.
They continued to chat about this and that for many hours until the elder brother said, "My dear brother and sister-in-law, for many years my wife and I have enjoyed my fathers inheritance. We have lived in a beautiful house with a large, fertile garden. Now we have decided it is your turn to enjoy those benefits.. We will move from the house and let live there. In return, all we ask is to be allowed to live in your small home".
The younger brother had fond memories of the place where he and his wife had shared hard times and good times and he did not want to leave. His brother insisted though, so at last he agreed and they exchanged homes.
The elder brother and his wife waited eagerly for the carambola tree to bear and one day, when the fruit was ripe and sweet, the phoenix returned. They sat under the tree and pretended to cry with anguish at the loss of their livelihood, rubbing their eyes with small pieces of chili. The phoenix looked at them and sang.
"For each piece of fruit eaten
A piece of gold will be returned.
Make a small bag to carry it,
I will return for you soon."
When the bird returned the next day the elder son was waiting with a large bag. Soon they were at the island, and the greedy eyes of the elder brother gleamed as he stuffed the bag to overflowing with the largest gems. Then he filled all his pockets and his hat with gold.
Such was the weight of the gold and jewels that on the return journey the phoenix began to tire. He shook his wings one, and the elder brother and the treasure fell into the sea, never to be seen again.

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WELL OF THE PEARLS
AFTER the reign of kings Hung, a brave leader became king with the name An Duong Vuong. The Golden Tortoise God helped him to build the new citadel. To ensure the everlasting protection of the people the god gave An Duong Vuong a precious gift.
"Take this claw from my foot", commanded the Golden Tortoise. "When your master-crafts-men have fashioned a crossbow of great strength use the claw for the trigger. With such a bow, even the poorest marksman in your army will be able to kill a thousand of the enemy with one arrow".
When the wonderful weapon made by the loyal craftsmen that the king kept it always in his bedchamber, its secret jealously guarded from all but his beloved daughter, My Chau.
At that time Trieu Da was the lord of the region which lay to the north. When he learned of the wondrous citadel of An Duong Vuong he wished to make it his own. He gathered a large army and invaded the land to the south.
He massed his army at the gates of the citadel, and demanded that it be surrendered to him. An Duong Vuong calmly took his magic bow, and with only five arrows slew five thousand of the enemy in the blink of an eye. "Take your soldiers back to your own land. I am too powerful for you", taunted the king. "Go, and never return with your armies or I will destroy them totally".
Trieu Da led his army in retreat across the border, but as he rode he devised a scheme to discover the secret of the bow.
Some months after his return he dispatched emissaries to the court of An Duong Vuong, asking that a peace treaty be drawn up between the two nations. As a guarantee of his good intentions, he offered to send his son Trong Thuy to the southern court as a diplomat.
An Duong Vuong accepted the offer, and so it was that Trong Thuy went to live as a diplomat at the court. He has instructions from his father to discover the secret power of the crossbow.
He had not been long at the court before My Chau became enchanted by his good manners, his kindness and his handsome face. She was a great beauty, skilled in all the arts, so it was not surprising that very soon he returned her feelings and they became sweethearts. It became obvious to King An Duong Vuong that they were deeply in love. Thinking that their marriage would unite the two kingdoms, he assented to their being wed.
Trong Thuy did not forget his father's instructions and one beautiful moonlit nigh, while the couple were sitting chatting happily on a flat rock, he asked his wife why the citadel could never be overcome by an enemy. "My love, what is the secret of the kingdom?"
"Oh, there is no secret!" replied My Chau, "Our citadel has high walls and deep moats".
"But what of the thousands of dead in my father's army?" he asked, gently stroking her hair. "Tell me my love, tell me how such a thing could happen".
Such were his winning words, and such was the love she had for him, that finally she relented. "My father has a bow made powerful by a claw from the Golden Tortoise God".
Trong Thuy continued with his pretence that he had never heard of such a weapon before and begged her to show it to him. She gladly ran to get it, and when she returned eagerly explained about the magic trigger. Trong Thuy examined it carefully, remembering every detail, then he told My Chau to return the bow to her father's bedchamber. He made an exact replica, and a night when every one was sleeping, he entered the king's bedchamber and exchanged the false trigger for the magic one. The next day Trong Thuy looked very anxious and My Chau asked him the reason.
"Oh my love, I have to leave. My father commanded me to return to my home early, for I have to go to the north, the far north".
In truth, his sadness was not feigned. His soul was in turmoil because he had to obey his father and betray his beloved.
My Chau was heartbroken but she said nothing.
Trong Thuy continued, "If it should happen that, during my absence, you are forced to leave the citadel because of a great catastrophe, how shall I find you?"
"I have a coat of goose feathers, "she replied. "If ever I have to leave I will drop feathers along the way. You can follow the trail until you find me". Then she began to sob bitterly.
Trong Thuy returned to his homeland and gave the claw of the Golden Tortoise God to his father. "These lands will soon be mine", shouted Trieu Da. "Gather my armies and let us march to the south".
When he heard of the approach of the enemy, An Duog Vuong made no preparations, trusting only in the power of the crossbow. When the enemy arrived at the gates he tired arrow after arrow at them, but to his dismay he killed none. Soon the army of Trieu Da had forced an entry into the citadel.
Mounting his swiftest horse, the king ordered his daughter to get up behind him. Quickly she ran to her room, snatched up the goose feather coat and returned to do his bidding. They left the citadel by a small, secret gate, and as they galloped along the road My Chau dropped feathers half-heartedly. For many days they followed a rough, mountainous road until it ended at a cliff overlooking the sea. The king wished to rest but he was fearful that the soldiers of Trieu Da were close behind.
He prayed to the Golden Tortoise God, who appeared suddenly in a rush of wind. "Your enemy is at your back", said the god, and was gone. On hearing this, the king took his sword and slew My Chau. Then he flung himself from the cliff into the sea.
The army of Trieu Da had set up camp in the citadel and it was Trong Thuy alone who followed the goose-feather trail. When he arrived at the cliff top Trong Thuy found the lifeless body of his beloved wife. Tearfully he carried her to the citadel for burial. After the ceremony, filled with remorse and grief, he threw himself into the well in front of the gates and died.
It is said that as she died, the blood of My Chau ran into the sea. Oysters drank of the blood and pearls were made. It is believed that the pearls become brighter if washed in water taken from the well that was once near the ancient citadel.

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