Chapter II: Part 2

In time Hannah grew up into a most lovely woman, whose hand and fortune were sought after by many suitors. One lover in particular had succeeded in gaining her favour by giving a few pence to a poor man whenever Hannah drew his attention to the one in distress. This charity, however, was not genuine, for if alone the lover would refuse to listen to the poor. Hannah consented to accept this suitor as her husband, and at last the wedding day was fixed. When the day arrived her home resounded with the song of joy and gladness. At the marriage feast happy laughter cheered the hearts of all the guests.

Next day all this happiness was suddenly changed into grief, for death had claimed the bridegroom as his victim. The lonely bride, weeping and lamenting, had laid aside her beautiful wedding robe and her bridal adornment and had put on the black dress of a mourner. All that had happened seemed as though it were a dream to the poor girl. Even her parents could hardly realize the terrible misfortune which had so suddenly befallen them. Yesterday saw the wedding and to-day was to see the funeral of the luckless husband.

In time their sorrow gradually became less intense and the tears of the widow dried off her beautiful face, for time cures every evil under the sun. Hannah’s beauty and wealth soon brought new lovers, and she accepted as a husband a man who was harsh and domineering by nature. He wooed Hannah for the sake of her fortune.

Again the bridal eve was followed by a night of death. Grief and tears again succeeded the joy and bliss of the marriage day. For a third time this cruel fate overtook the unfortunate bridegroom, who, like his predecessors, had only married for the sake of money. In the presence of all the friends of her dear parents Hannah cried,—

“Thrice have I been wedded and thrice have I lost my husband. Never again will I marry, for I will not again lead my beloved to death. God’s hand is stretched out against me for some unknown sin. Thrice was I married in order to increase the joy of my dear parents, but this joy has been changed three times into heartbreaking sorrow for all of us. Henceforth I will remain a widow. Daily will I weep and pray to God to forgive me the sin which has cost so dearly.”

The friends held their peace and left the sorrowing girl and her parents to comfort one another as best they could.

David had a brother named Samuel, who lived in a far-off country. For very many years they had not heard from one another. In their youth they had parted, each bent on seeking his fortune. As we have seen, David had become very wealthy. Samuel, however, although blessed with a worthy wife and ten children, had remained a poor man. He and his eldest son collected wood in the forest near their hut. Sometimes they were lucky and sold all the wood which they had gathered. One day they failed to find any customers, and when they returned home at night they were penniless. The result was that next day the entire family were without food.

Again that day Samuel and his eldest son, whose name was Joseph, went to the market-place to sell the wood, but without any success. They resolved to spend the night in the forest rather than see the misery of the starving children in their unhappy home.

Samuel and Joseph prayed to God for help. After a while Joseph turned to his father and suggested that the best thing to do would be to go to his rich uncle David and to ask his assistance. Samuel gladly consented to this proposal.

Early next morning they returned home and told their dear ones about the plan which they had adopted. Joseph took leave of his beloved parents, sisters and brothers and set out on his journey fortified by the prayers and blessings of all the family.

When he came to his uncle’s house he was received with a hearty welcome. His aunt and uncle inquired after the welfare of Joseph’s parents, and when they heard of the terrible poverty in Joseph’s home they immediately sent their trusty steward to help the family with food, money and clothing. Joseph wished to return home in company with the steward, but he was persuaded by his aunt to stay with his uncle for a short visit. His genial presence soon brought comfort and happiness to his sad cousin Hannah. Often did they sit together in the beautiful garden attached to David’s house and read the stirring stories of the Bible.

A few weeks of unclouded happiness soon passed by, and Joseph thought that the time had come when he ought to return home. He went to his uncle one morning and said to him,—

“Let me ask you, dear uncle, to do me a favour, which you can readily promise to do. You have given me so much already. I shall never forget all your love and kindness. One thing only is still wanting to complete my heart’s desire. Well do I know how generously you have assisted my beloved father and mother. You have fed and clothed my poor sisters and brothers. You have kept me here for many a happy day as your guest. If you do not promise to do this one favour which I am about to ask, I must at once leave you and return to my own home, for I fear I have already stayed here too long.”

“How can I refuse you your request, dear Joseph,” cried David. “I faithfully promise on my word of honour to do what you ask, for I know that you are a good and noble lad with an honest and kind heart. I am sure you would never ask for aught which is neither right nor just.”

“That is so,” said Joseph. “Now, dear uncle, since you have given me your promise, listen to my request. I know you do not really wish me to return home. I will agree to stay with you on one condition and make your home mine also.”

“What is the condition?” cried David impatiently.

“The condition,” continued Joseph, “is that you give me your consent to marry my dear cousin Hannah. When we are married, we will live with you and comfort you and dear aunt for the rest of your lives.”

David’s face became white and with tears in his eyes he shook his head.

“What you are asking,” he cried, “is impossible. Do you not know, dear Joseph, that Hannah has already been married three times and each time her husband died in the night following the wedding. You are really asking me for leave to die, and I dare not consent. Please do not try to persuade me to agree to your proposal. If you do, it will be to your own hurt.”

“But you have given me your word of honour to grant my request,” said Joseph, “and your word is your bond. Well do I know the sad story of dear Hannah’s weddings. I am fully aware that the three husbands who in turn married my dear cousin died in the first night of their marriage. The fault was not Hannah’s. She is so good and loving, so true and innocent. I trust in God with all my heart and soul, and I will gladly risk my life and happiness in marrying her. The love of God will shield me from all harm. Have no fear, give your consent and we shall all be happy.”

David with tremulous voice addressed his nephew, saying,—

“Joseph, I love you as though you were my son. Listen well to what I am about to say. If by marrying my daughter you think you will obtain her fortune, tell me if this be the case; be candid and I will satisfy you and redeem my pledge by giving you her dowry. Nay, I will double the amount if you agree not to wed my child. If this should not satisfy you, name the sum of money you desire, and if I possess it, it shall be yours. I will gladly give it with a good will, only do not risk your precious life by running into danger. You have been a source of real comfort and happiness to us all ever since you set foot in our house. Do not, I beseech you, plunge us all into unutterable misery by risking your life. To marry Hannah is to die.”

“Dear uncle!” Joseph cried, “do you really think for one moment that I wish to marry Hannah for the sake of money. Do not even think that I would take a penny piece if I am not allowed to marry her. I do not think of money or worldly things now, for I know that love is the best of all treasures. In Hannah have I found my ideal; she alone of all women on earth will be mine, even as I alone of all men will be hers, now and always. Providence is not against us, for I feel that we are destined to make one another happy. Moreover, in our happiness you and dear aunt will find your true peace and joy.”

Seeing the folly of prolonging the discussion, David consented to carry out his promise, and said that he would at once tell the news to Hannah and her mother. No sooner had he disclosed the proposal to his daughter than she began to weep and to pray to God for His support and counsel. Joyfully would she have suffered death sooner than see any harm befall Joseph, whom she loved with all her heart. She knew how noble was his character, and she realized that nothing would induce him to change his mind. She felt that she was helpless and that there was nothing to be done except to put her life and that of her beloved Joseph in the hands of God.

Later in the day Joseph came to her and placed the engagement ring on her finger, meanwhile saying,—

“With this ring art thou betrothed unto me according to the Law of Moses and of Israel.”

They sealed their engagement by a sweet kiss, exchanging promises of love and constancy. In spite of her happiness, tears welled up in her eyes, for she knew that their great joy and love were in the balance. Joseph tried to console her by telling her that all would be well.

The news of their engagement soon spread in the town where they lived, and the friends of Hannah’s parents came to wish the couple joy and good luck; thinking that their congratulations would gladden the hearts of Hannah and of her parents. Joseph’s usual good humour was intensified by the happy event. He sought out the poor, to whom he gave gifts of money, well remembering the poverty in which he had lived till he came to his uncle.

A few weeks later the ceremony of marriage was fixed to be celebrated. Once again Hannah put on her bridal attire, thinking the while of the terrible misfortunes she had experienced. At last the hour came when she stood with Joseph at her side beneath the wedding canopy.

Just as the marriage service was about to begin, an old man, unknown to all the assembled guests, approached Joseph and asked him to give him a moment’s attention, because he had to tell him something of vital importance. Joseph immediately turned aside with the stranger and asked him if he required any help. The stranger replied,—

“I come to help you, for I know that you have a good and kind heart. I ask you to remember that wealth will not avail in the hour of your need, charity alone will save you and deliver you from death. Be hospitable this day and invite to your wedding feast the poor who will bless you for your kindness. This is all I have to say, and now let me go, for I wish you well.”

The stranger was Elijah the prophet, the friend and comforter of all in trouble and distress.

The marriage service began, and at its conclusion the guests took their places at the banquet. At the head of the table sat the bridegroom, and at his side was his beautiful bride. The guests began to eat and to drink, when all of a sudden there was seen at the door of the room a beggar in rags and tatters, his skin yellow and unwashed, his hair unkempt and his stature bent. His eyes were flaming like fire, and at his presence profound silence obtained. Not a sound was heard within the room; all was hushed in strange suspense, till Joseph in a loud and fearless voice cried,—

“Come hither, good friend; you are most welcome at this, my marriage feast. At my side shall you sit, for here all are most heartily welcome, rich and poor alike.”

Joseph told the servants to go to the door of the house and to invite all the poor who passed by to join his guests.

The beggar went to the seat next to Joseph’s and sat down. Joseph waited on his unknown guest and gave him of the best. When the banquet was over the bride arose and retired to her apartment. Joseph arose likewise and was about to follow her when the beggar placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder and said in a whisper—

“I must have just one word with you in private, please. I cannot stay here much longer, but I have to tell you why I am with you to-day.”

Joseph led him to an empty room and requested him to be seated. After a moment or two had elapsed the stranger began to speak as follows:—

“My friend, I am truly sorry for your own and also for your dear wife’s sake, but I have come here on a very sad errand. I am sent to you against my will. It is God who has sent me here to take you to Him. Prepare now to leave the world and all its joys.”

Joseph looked at his guest without fear, and in a very calm voice he said,—

“If this be God’s will, so be it done in love and obedience. Nevertheless, I do beseech you grant me a respite—just one year in happiness with my wife, and then I promise to go with you.”

“No, my good friend, it cannot be,” cried the angel of death, who was in the beggar’s guise. “Not even a month,” said the angel, “not even the seven days of rejoicing appointed to be kept by bride and bridegroom, not even one day’s delay, but this very day must you die even as the former three husbands of your beloved wife.”

Joseph made haste to reply,—

“God’s word is true, and He is true. If you cannot accede to my petition to grant me a respite, give me leave to go to my wife and to bid her farewell.”

“This will I gladly allow,” exclaimed the angel, “in return for your kindness to me this day; you knew me not—yet have you treated me as a friend.”

The angel spoke so gently because his heart was full of sorrow. He knew that Joseph was a good and true man, and it grieved him to lead him through the valley of the shadow of death.

Joseph hastened to his wife’s apartment and entered. He found her rapt in prayer with tears in her eyes.

“Quick, my beloved,” he whispered, “my time is very short, I cannot stay here, I must hasten far away with the strange beggar. He has come to fetch me. Let me bless you for your unfailing sweetness and love; come, let me kiss you for the last time.”

“If,” she cried, “you hasten away I will go with you, for now we are one and nothing shall ever part us, not even cruel death itself.”

With a passionate grip she took his hand and told him to lead her to the beggar. When she saw him, she said,—

“Stranger! you are still our guest beneath our roof. If you would repay our hospitality this day just grant me one little favour. Take me with my husband to the Eternal Judge and I will ask Him whether His holy word in the Law is true. Is it not written therein: ‘And what man is there that hath betrothed a wife, and hath not taken her, let him go and return to his house, lest he die in the battle and another man take her’” (Deut. xx. 7)?

“Nay,” cried the angel, “I will go for you and I will bring you answer again.”

His sorrow for the unfortunate bride and bridegroom prompted him to do this service of love. The angel added,—

“I will join in the choir of angels who praise God morning and evening, and I will put your question before the Father of Mercy who dwells with the meek and the broken-hearted. I hope for the sake of both of you that Joseph’s life will be spared.”

In a moment the angel was gone and in another moment he returned. His face was shining with heavenly light and his voice was sweet and soft.

“Listen,” he said. “Good friends! I rejoice to tell you that your prayers have been heard. Live well and long together, enjoy your life. The other husbands died because they married, not for love, but for greed of gold. They were hard-hearted, scorning the poor and the weak. You shall live to help others to live and to prosper. Farewell!” and in a second the angel was seen no more.

The bride and bridegroom spent that night in giving praise to God for His love and mercy. The parents, however, were weeping throughout the long night, whilst their friends had prepared the grave for Joseph’s body. At dawn, Joseph went to his uncle and aunt to greet them. They were greatly overcome with joy and comforted one another by praying together to the Almighty. All then hastened to fill in the unused grave. In this plot they planted seeds of daffodils, so that in time to come they might look upon the beautiful flowers as an emblem of the Divine Mercy.

Joseph continued to be charitable and kind to all who needed his help. Whenever the people saw him they were wont to exclaim: “Truly charity delivers from death.”

Midrash Tanchuma, Ha’azinu, § viii.

THE CLEVER WIFE

Long, long ago, there lived in the old town of Sidon a happy couple named Abraham and Ada. Although they loved one another very much, still there was something wanting to complete their happiness. They had been married for nearly ten years, but they had not been blessed with a child. Ofttimes Ada would sit in her room and weep. She prayed every day to God to fulfil her desire by giving her a son or a daughter. Abraham did his best to comfort her by telling her that all would come right in time. Nevertheless, he felt very sad when he came home and thought of the future. He would have given anything to have had a little son who might be taught the holy religion which he loved so well. The neighbours in their street were none too kind and they slighted Ada. This made her grief more bitter.

Did not the people often say in Abraham’s hearing that children are a token of God’s blessing? Was it not true that the house which lacked the merry laughter of little innocent children was under a curse or spell? Did not the holy Law teach that it was a religious duty to marry and to have children? Would it not be better, he argued with himself, to divorce his wife, if, after being married for ten years, she had no child? She might marry another man and have children and so find her happiness. All these thoughts flashed again and again through his mind.

At last when the anniversary of their tenth marriage day arrived, Abraham said to his wife,—

“Let us visit to-day our true friend Rabbi Simeon, the son of Jochai.”

When they came before the famous master, Abraham, with tears in his eyes, said,—

“O good Rabbi! My dear wife has been faithful to me and loving during the past ten years. It has pleased our Heavenly Father to withhold from us the blessing of children. I fear this is on account of my many sins. It seems to me that our home henceforth will not be as happy as it should be; my wife grieves over her barrenness and I fret because she is unhappy. Is it not my duty to set her free?”

Whilst Abraham was speaking, his wife wept. She knew that if he sent her away from his heart and home, her life would be utterly miserable and unendurable. Her genuine sorrow touched the heart of her husband, who turned to her and exclaimed,—

“My dear and sweet wife! be calm and do not grieve, for we must ever submit to the will of Providence. Do not think that I am not ofttimes sad, because we have no child to cheer your long days. If I could only give you some substitute, I would most gladly do so. Listen, dearest! I now faithfully promise to allow you to choose whatever you like best in our home and you may take it with you to your father’s house as a keepsake when you leave me for good. This will always be a visible token of the deep affection and true love which united us during the past ten years.”

The Rabbi watched his guests with sympathetic eyes. He knew that Abraham had made up his mind to divorce his worthy wife. Nothing would make him waver. With a merry twinkle in his far-seeing eye, he began to address them, saying,—

“My dear children! I can only pity you, for I am deeply grieved to see how you are about to lose one another. Before you finally part, however, let me advise you to invite this day your good friends to a farewell banquet, even as they gathered around you ten years ago at your marriage feast. Love united you and in love prepare to separate, if it must be.”

The wise master was in hopes that all the old ties would be revived by the presence of the family circle of friends and that love would still hold them together. Abraham and Ada promised to follow the advice of the Rabbi and they returned home.

Ada at once sent to all their friends and provided a most liberal banquet. Her husband sat beside her as usual, and she took care that his wine-glass was constantly refilled. Good cheer made the company very happy, and Abraham determined to spend a jolly evening for the last time in the company of his wife, whom he really loved.

Ada had carefully prepared her plans. Her husband had toasted each of his guests, and soon the excellent wine which he drank sent him into a deep sleep. Without a moment’s delay, Ada beckoned to her servants to come to her. She told them to lift up the armchair in which her husband sat asleep and to carry it at once to her father’s house in a neighbouring street. The company looked on in surprise, and guessing the meaning of what they saw, they took their departure.

Meanwhile Abraham, fast asleep, had been carried to his new quarters. He was put in a beautiful room, with Ada at his side waiting for him to awaken. At dawn the effect of the wine began to wear off and he awoke. Looking around with great surprise, he exclaimed,—

“Where am I?”

Ada took his hand and stroking it gently, she said to him,—

“My beloved! you are in my father’s house.”

“What am I doing here?” he cries.

“You are just waking up,” she says; “you remember when we yesterday visited Rabbi Simeon, the son of Jochai, you faithfully promised me that I might choose anything I liked best in our home and take it with me when I left your roof. Last night I left your house and I took you with me as there was nothing in your home, or, for the matter of that, in all the world so precious to me as your dear self. You were the choicest possession in our old home, and you are mine now and for ever. You have, by your promise to me, given yourself over to me. Divorce or no divorce, you are my property, for I know very well you always keep your promise.”

Abraham saw the humour of the situation in which he found himself, and laughed again and again at the huge joke his clever wife had perpetrated at his expense.

“Well done,” he exclaimed, “we are now agreed that the question of divorce is solved. Once again are we united and this time for ever. Nothing shall part us as long as we live.”

Like all good people they lived a very happy life. In time a son was born and later on a daughter was given to them, and they all rejoiced in one another’s happiness.

Yalḳuṭ, Genesis § 16.

THE COINS OF ELIJAH

Once upon a time there was a really pious man who was ever ready to assist all who needed his help. Prosperity and happiness smiled upon him. Year in and year out all went well with him and his dear ones. All of a sudden a change took place. The business which he carried on proved to be gradually showing a loss instead of the former profit. Trade began to dwindle, the regular customers died or moved away. Bad debts increased and eventually the entire fortune of the good man was lost. In order to provide for the daily needs of his wife and children he worked in the fields as a labourer paid by the day. The day’s work was long and hard, but a good heart and a willing spirit enabled him to overcome all difficulties. He even spared a coin of his wages to help those in a worse plight than he found himself.

Now it happened one day whilst he was engaged in ploughing a field that a stranger approached and greeted him, saying,—

“Peace be to thee and to all thy house.”

He replied,—

“Peace be also to thee and thine.”

The stranger then continued,—

“Friend, I come to tell thee that thou art destined to regain thy fortune and to live in affluence for a period of six years during thy life here on earth. It is thine to choose when this period shall begin; shall it be now or later in life?”

Astonished at the strange words which he had heard, the labourer looked at his companion to see if he was dreaming.

“Good stranger,” he cried, “art thou a prophet or a magician that thou speakest in this wise? I fear thou art a poor man even as I am. Go thy way in peace, for I cannot help thee to-day, for I am penniless at the moment. I should be happy to give thee a fee for thy happy forecast, but I cannot give what I have not got. Go in peace and may Heaven send thee help.”

The stranger went away and the labourer resumed his work without thinking any more of the strange conversation which he had just had. After a short interval the stranger returned and repeated the offer, only to be refused. When, however, for the third time he urged the unwilling labourer to accept his gift by believing in the proffered promise, the poor toiler, weary of his hard daily struggle in the fields, at last consented to consult his wife before coming to a decision. A glimmer of hope in the possibility of the promise had arisen in his heart.

“Perhaps, after all,” he thought, “kind Providence has sent this messenger to help me in my dire distress and that now the poverty which has harassed me and my dear ones will be replaced by wealth and prosperity.”

He ran home as quickly as his legs would carry him and told his wife all that had transpired. He emphasized the insistence displayed by the stranger. He said to his wife,—

“Assuming that the stranger is speaking the truth and that I am to be rich for a period of six years, when do you advise me to choose our time of prosperity—now or later in life?”

After a moment’s consideration she cried,—

“Now, now.”

Her husband returned to the field without further delay and found the stranger awaiting his decision. When the labourer told him his wish to enjoy there and then the promised wealth and prosperity, the stranger opened his purse and took out two pieces of silver.

“Here, my friend,” he said, “take these two coins and return them to me six years hence when I shall call on thee. Do not forget I shall require my money to be restored to me when I come to demand it.”

After the labourer had taken the coins he thanked his benefactor and promised to return the gift as arranged. In a second the stranger had disappeared; no trace of the direction he had taken was discerned by the labourer, who also recalled the fact that the stranger had come upon him all of a sudden.

“Very strange,” he said; “there is some mystery about this stranger, he seems to come from nowhere and to return to the same place.”

No sooner had the labourer placed the silver coins in his pocket than he perceived a sudden change coming over him. He no longer felt the same man. His poverty and sorrow fled away from him and a new feeling of contentment and security arose in his heart. He bowed his head in gratitude and thanked God for His manifold mercies.

Meanwhile, wonderful events were occurring in his home. His eldest son was turning the soil in the garden at the back of their house, when he saw gold glittering in the sunlight. He dug deeper and deeper and continued to find the precious metal; in fact there was evidently a treasure which had been lying hidden there all the years of their poverty. The young man cried aloud in his joy. His mother and her other sons came to see what was amiss. As soon as she saw what was happening she sent her youngest son to his father. She said,—

“Do not fail to tell him that God has given us back our fortune.”

Before the door of their house, however, stood the father. In a moment he was with his wife and children, and uniting with them gave thanks to Him who giveth and taketh away.

The pious man and his virtuous wife resolved to make good use of their wealth as long as it was entrusted to their care. They were very happy because they were now in a position to help the poor who so sorely needed their assistance. The wife said to her good husband,—

“My dear, we must not forget that our prosperity will not last for ever. We are to be rich for six years only. Let us during this period feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and assist the needy. We shall always have the satisfaction of knowing that we made other people happy during the years of our good fortune. We shall be happy in realizing that we have made good use of our trust.”

“Verily,” he said, “the law of kindness is on thy tongue.”

Not a day passed without an occasion offering itself to these good people to bestow their wealth upon those less fortunate than themselves. They did not fail in seizing every opportunity of doing an act of charity and kindness. The youngest son was told by his mother to keep an account of their own expenses and also an account of the money given in alms.

The six years passed like a dream. One day the expected benefactor came to their house, and after receiving a warm welcome turned to his host and said,—

“The six years have passed and I have come to ask thee to return my money.”

The pious man exclaimed,—

“Dear friend! Thy demand is quite fair and just. Yet, stay! I accepted thy gift only after I had consulted my wife, and now before I repay my debt, I must again ask her advice.”

Whereupon he turned to his wife who was present and said to her,—

“Beloved wife! please advise me how am I to repay our debt to our generous benefactor here?”

“Let me,” she cried, “settle accounts with him.” Turning to him she said, “I will show thee how we have spent the fortune entrusted to our care through thy kindness. Behold the account books.”

The kind stranger looked with deep interest at the long lists recording the money spent in charity.

“You have, indeed,” he cried, “spent plenty of money.”

“But, good sir!” she added, “if thou dost believe for a moment that thy money might be entrusted to better guardians, take away then thy gift. If, on the other hand, thou art satisfied with the manner in which we have used the wealth placed in our care, then let us continue to hold our trust.”

Thereupon the stranger, who was Elijah the prophet, blessed the good couple and bade them enjoy the wealth they knew so well how to use. In a moment the prophet had departed and the happy couple kept his coins and bequeathed them to their eldest son as a family heirloom.

Yalḳuṭ, Ruth §§ 607, 601.

THE FOX AND THE RAVEN

One fine day a raven found a nice piece of fresh cheese, which he carried away to a favourite resting place on the leafy branch of a beautiful fig-tree. Believing himself to be out of harm’s way, he was about to eat and enjoy his booty, when he heard a well-known voice softly calling to him,—

“Good day, dear friend Raven.”

Whence did the voice come? Lo and behold, at the foot of the fig-tree stood Master Fox, eyeing with a greedy look the raven and the cheese. How to obtain the latter was the thought uppermost in the mind of the crafty fox.

Being unable to climb the tree, he resolved to trick the raven so as to make him drop the cheese. Again Master Fox cried,—

“Good day, dear friend Raven, thou art verily the most beautiful of birds. If all the winged creatures beneath the heavens were gathered around thee, thou wouldst easily excel them all by reason of thy lovely feathers. Moreover, if thou wouldst only sing then would thy song surpass the sweetest melody of any other of thy winged companions and thou wouldst become King of the birds.”

The sweet words sank deeply into the raven’s heart and he rejoiced at the prospect of attaining to such undreamt-of greatness. All that he had to do was merely to sing.

Excited with joy and pride he quickly opened his mouth and raising his voice, he tried to sing. Alas! he only croaked; meanwhile the cheese fell from his mouth to the ground. The greedy fox pounced upon the prey and with a joyful cry he said,—

“Dear friend Raven, never again will I listen to the voice of other sweet singers after hearing thy beautiful voice. Pray excuse me, if I hasten away to finish the cheese thou hast so generously given me as a reward for my flattery. Great indeed must be the power of pride since it overcomes the desires of thy appetite.”

(The XIIIth Fable in R. Berachyah’s Fox Fables.)