Part 21 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration]
The Monkey untied the mouth of the bag, and took out one sixpence, and, click! dropped it into the pond. The Milkman heard a tiny splash, but it did not trouble him, because he thought it was a nut or something that had fallen from the tree. Click! another sixpence. Click! went a third.
By this time the Milkman's hands were dry, and he looked round to pick up his bag, and get him gone. But no bag! Click! click! went the sixpences all this while; and now the Milkman began to look around him.
Before long he espied the Monkey sitting on a branch with his beloved bag, and--O horror! dropping sixpences, click! click! click! one after another into the pond.
”I say, you Monkey!” shouted he, ”that's my bag! What are you doing?
bring me back my bag!”
”Not yet,” said the Monkey, and went on dropping the sixpences, click!
click! click!
The Milkman wept, the Milkman tore handfuls of hair out of his head; but the Monkey might have been made of stone for all the notice he took of the Milkman.
At last the Monkey had dropt two hundred sixpences into the pond. Then he tied up the mouth of the money-bag, and threw it down to the Milkman.
”There, take your money,” said the Monkey.
”And where's the rest of my money?” asked the Milkman, fuming with rage.
”You have all the money that is yours,” said the Monkey. ”Half of the money was the price of water from this pond, so to the pond I gave it.”
The Milkman felt very much ashamed of himself, and went away, a sadder but a wiser man; and never again did he put water in his milk. And that is why I have not told you the name of the village where he lived; for now that he has turned over a new leaf, it would hardly be fair to rake up his old misdeeds against him.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
The Bull and the Bullfinch
UNDER a certain tree lived a wild Bull, and a Bullfinch had his nest in the branches. A Bull in a field is vicious enough, as I daresay you know; but a wild Bull is worse than anything. Wild Bulls are tremendously strong, and they can fight with almost any beast of the forest, even Lions and Tigers.
This wild Bull used to attack every creature that came near; and that, not for the sake of food, as Lions and Tigers do, but out of pure mischief. When the creature (were he man or beast) was killed, this wild Bull would leave the corpse lying, and begin to eat gra.s.s. But the little Bullfinch harmed n.o.body, unless it were a worm he would eat now and again for a treat. All day long he hopped about, picking up seeds, and singing away with all his throat. Many a time he saw the wild Bull gore some creature to death; and when he saw such things, tears would roll out of his eyes, because he could do nothing to help.
At last he thought to himself that he could at least warn the wild Bull of his wickedness, and clear his own conscience. So one morning, when the wild Bull was sitting under his tree, and looking around him, Bullfinch piped up, and said--
”Good brother Bull, I suppose we are akin somehow or other, because of our names.”
”Yes, I daresay it may be so, Cousin Bullfinch,” said the Bull.
”Well,” says the Bullfinch, ”allow me the right of a near kinsman to say something to you.”
”All right, go ahead,” said the Bull gruffly.
”Well,” said the Bullfinch, clearing his throat (for he was a little frightened), ”don't you know that murder is a very evil deed, and yet you do it every day of your life?”
”Impertinent speck!” said the Bull, getting up and walking away. He thought it cheeky that a bird so little should presume to rebuke a great big Bull. He did not remember, you see, that big bodies are often big fools, and precious goods are done up in small parcels. The warning of the little Finch was as the blowing of the wind; at least, so it seemed at the time, though afterwards (as you shall hear) the Bull did remember it.
So the Bull went on tossing and goring all that came within reach; and now he would have nothing to say to the poor little Bullfinch.