Thereafter it was the same. Whenever the woodcutter, worn with toil, stooped to drink from the sparkling waterfall, or at night when he filled his gourd to bear to his father at home, the saké flowed free and clear and delicious. And ever the tinkling voice repeated, over and over to the music of waters falling,
“Saké to him who is kind.”
Footnotes
[29] A kind of dumpling.
THE BOY AND THE SPIRITS OF THINGS
There was once a little boy of the Ainu who was very wise. He seldom played with the other boys, for the spirits of things were his playmates. No one could see his playmates, but he talked to them and loved them better than all the children whom he knew.
“My friends tell me strange things,” he said; and his mother asked, “Who are your friends and what strange things do they tell you, my child?”
“My friends are the spirits of things,” the boy made answer. “I can not tell you what they say, but the spirit of the pine tree whispers to me the things the spirit of the north wind tells to him; the tall bamboo spirit bends down as the tree sways, and talks of the sun’s glowing rays; the birds and blossoms speak to me of the earth’s beauty. Even the common things have spirits and they tell me many things.”
The boy’s mother sighed, as she looked at him, for she thought he was too wise.
One day the boy fell ill. He was very sick, but no one knew what was the matter with him. He drooped from day to day and seemed not to care for anything. And it was the winter time.