“Oh, Mother Earth! teach me, for I know not, what I shall do, that I may have not only sorrow and misery—that even in my life there may be bright days!”
And the peasant fell asleep.
Sunrise is wiser than nightfall. Next morning the peasant awoke, and, after pondering deeply, he broke off a strong bough, cut it with a stone and made a spade; with this he raised an earthen hut. And he covered it with brushwood, and filled the chinks with moss, and roofed it over. Then he closed the entrance with a stone and took up his dwelling there.
Time passed on, and a household grew up about the peasant, with fields and pastures and all things needful. There he dwelt and passed his days in peace and joy, praising God.
What then, my lads? If the good folk were but a bit wiser and would stand up for themselves and their own, maybe every man might live in peace and plenty, and never need to slip away and hide his head in the forest. Think of that!
THE DOG’S PASSPORT.
(TOLD BY A PEASANT.)[[50]]
Well, you see, once there was a man with an old dog; and he took the old dog and turned him out of doors, he did. So the dog up and says: “Give me a passport that I lived with you.” So the man wrote him a passport, and let him go his way—to the four winds. Well, the dog went his way, and at last he came to another man as hadn’t got a dog; and he just hung on and begged him to let him bide. So the man took him, and he bided there one day, and two days,—and all at once he saw the cat. And it was a fine cat. And all their lives they two had never cast eyes one on the other. So the dog says—“Who are you?” and the cat says—“I am the cat, and I live here, and I look after the master.... And who are you?” she says. “I am the dog,” says he; “and I’ve got a passport; I live in the back-yard, and look after the master.” “And where’s the passport?” “Here it is, under my paw.” “Give it to me; I’ll hide it away safe, or you will be getting it all sopping wet when the rain comes.” “Well,” says the dog, “take it, but give it me back when I tell you.” So those two were right good mates together. Only one night the cat ran after a wee mousie, and she dropped the passport in the old straw, and the gammer took it and burnt it up in the fire, she did. Well, then the gaffer took the dog and turned him out of doors, because he hadn’t got his passport; and the dog called the cat. “Give back my passport!” “It’s gone,” says she; “I lost it!” And that dog, it just flew at the cat, and tore it into little wee bits.... There now! If the cat hadn’t happened to have burnt the passport, those two would have been mates like, and the dog would have bided at home. Only think of that!
