Generosity

There once lived a landlord who loved money as he loved his own life. In his eyes the smallest coin seemed as large as a millstone. He was always on the lookout for some new way of making money and was very mean to his peasant tenants. They all called him "Skinflint."

One year a long spell of drought devastated the area, ruining the entire crop. The peasants, who were used to living from year to year, and never had a reserve of grain to fall back on, were reduced to eating bark and roots to survive, and now even these were all consumed. Starvation drove them to ask for a loan of grain from Skinflint, whose granaries, big and small, were filled to overflowing. Although the grain was sprouting and the flour was swarming with maggots, he was such a miser that he wouldn't part with a single speck of either. His peasants went away seething with anger and resentment, and resolved to find some way to teach him a lesson.

They put their heads together and came up with rather a good plan. They collected together a few tiny silver ingots and also managed to procure a scraggy little horse. They stuffed the silver up the horse's behind and bunged it up with a wad of cotton floss. Then they selected one of their number, a peasant whose gift of gab had earned him the nickname "Bigmouth" and who was credited with the power of talking the dead out of their graves. They sent him to Skinflint with the horse. Seeing them enter, Skinflint flew into a rage. His whiskers bristled.

He glowered at Bigmouth, pointing at him angrily and shouting, "You damn fool! You have fouled my courtyard enough. Get out of my sight!"

"Please keep your voice down, Master," said Bigmouth with a cunning smile. "If you frighten my horse and make him bolt, you'd have to sell everything you've got to make good the damage."

"There you go, Bigmouth, bragging again!" said Skinflint. "What can this scraggy little horse of yours possibly be worth?"

To which Bigmouth replied, "Oh, nothing, except that when he moves his bowels silver and gold come out."

In an instant Skinflint's anger evaporated and he hastened to ask, "Where did you get hold of this beast?"

"I dreamt a dream the night before last," began Bigmouth. "I met a white-bearded old man who said to me, 'Bigmouth, the colt who used to carry gold and silver ingots for the God of Wealth has been demoted and sent down to Earth. Go to the northeast and catch him. When he moves his bowels, silver and gold come out. If you catch him, you'll make a fortune.' Then the old man gave me a push and I woke up. I didn't take it seriously, thinking it to be nothing but a dream. I turned over and fell asleep again. However, as soon as I closed my eyes, the old man reappeared and urged me to hurry up. 'The horse will fall into another's hands if you delay!' he said, and gave me another push which woke me up again. I put on my clothes and ran out. In the northeast I saw a ball of fire. When I ran over, sure enough, there was the colt, grazing contentedly. So I led him home. The following day, I set up an incense burner and as soon as I lit the incense, the colt began to produce silver ingots from its behind."

"Did it really?" asked Skinflint eagerly.

Bigmouth replied, "There's an old proverb which says, 'The proof of the pudding is in the eating.' If you don't believe me, allow me to arrange a demonstration."

He asked Skinflint to set up a burner and light some incense. Meanwhile, he himself held a plate below the horse's behind. He secretly pulled out the wad of cotton and the tiny silver ingots fell jingling onto the plate. On seeing the horse perform like this, Skinflint asked avidly, "How much does he produce a day?"

"Three or four taels a day for us less lucky folk," replied Bigmouth. "But the old man in my dream said that if he meets a really lucky person he produces thirty or forty."

Skinflint thought to himself, "I must be one of those. Supposing I get the horse, he is bound to produce at least twenty taels a day. That means six hundred taels a month and seven thousand two hundred taels a year."

The longer his sums became, the fonder he grew of the horse. He decided that he must buy him, and talked it over with Bigmouth.

At first Bigmouth pretended to be unwilling. Skinflint tried again and again to persuade him and promised to pay any price he asked. In the end Bigmouth sighed and said, "Oh well, so be it. My luck is evidently worse than yours. I'll sell. But I don't want silver or gold, just give me thirty bushels of grain."

Skinflint considered the price very cheap and readily agreed. They made the exchange then and there.

Bigmouth hurried back with the grain and distributed it among his fellow peasants. They were all very happy to have it. Skinflint, for his part, felt even happier to have the horse, and just couldn't stop chuckling to himself. He was afraid of losing the horse, however, and tried to tie him up in a great many places, but none of them seemed safe enough. Finally, he tied him up in his own living room. He laid a red carpet on the floor and set up an incense burner. The whole family watched the colt in eager anticipation, expecting him any minute to start producing silver and gold.

They waited till midnight. Suddenly the horse opened his hind legs. Skinflint sensed that he was about to "produce." He quickly brought over a lacquered tray and held it right below the horse's behind. He waited for ages, but nothing happened. Skinflint was so anxious by now that he lifted the horse's tail, bent down and peered upwards to keep an eye on further developments. There was a sudden "splash," and before Skinflint could do anything about it, the horse had splattered him all over his face. The "liquid gold" ran down the back of his head and down his neck, covering his whole body. The stench was so vile that Skinflint started jumping and shouting and then felt nauseous and began to vomit again and again. Next the horse urinated in great quantity, ruining the lovely red carpet. The whole room stunk to high heaven. Skinflint realized that he had been cheated, and in a fit of rage, he killed the horse.

The following morning, first thing, he sent some of his hired thugs to track down Bigmouth. But the peasants had already hidden him away. Skinflint's men searched for him high and low but always came back empty handed, to his fury and exasperation. There was nothing he could do except send out spies and wait.

In the twinkling of an eye, it was winter. One day Bigmouth failed to hide properly and was caught by one of Skinflint's henchmen. When he came face to face with his foe, Skinflint gnashed his teeth with rage and without saying a word, had Bigmouth locked up in his mill. He had him stripped of all his padded clothes and left him with nothing but a cotton shirt, hoping to freeze him to death. It was the very coldest season of the year. Outside, snow was falling and a bitter wind was blowing. Bigmouth sat huddled up in a corner, trembling with cold. As the cold was becoming unbearable, an idea suddenly occurred to him. He stood up at once, heaved a millstone up off the ground and began walking back and forth with it in his arms. He soon warmed up and started sweating. He passed the entire night in this way, walking around with the millstone and occasionally stopping for a rest.

Early next morning Skinflint thought Bigmouth must surely be dead. But when he unlocked the mill door, to his great surprise, he found Bigmouth squatting there in a halo of steam, his whole body in a muck of sweat. Bigmouth stood up at once and begged him, "Master, take pity on me! Quick, lend me a fan! Or I shall die of heat!"

"How come you are so hot?" asked the dumbfounded Skinflint.

"This shirt of mine is a priceless heirloom," Bigmouth explained. "It's called the Fire Dragon Shirt. The colder the weather, the greater the heat it gives off."

"When did you get hold of it?"

"Originally it was the pelt cast off by the Lord Fire Dragon. Then the Queen of the Western Heaven wove it into a shirt. Later on it somehow fell into the possession of my ancestors and became a family heirloom. It has been passed down from generation to generation until finally it came into my hands."

Seeing how unbearably hot he was, Skinflint swallowed the whole story. He was now set on getting hold of this Fire Dragon Shirt and had completely forgotten the episode of the gold colt. He insisted on bartering his fox-fur gown for the shirt. Bigmouth absolutely refused at first, but when Skinflint added fifty taels of silver to the price, he said with a sigh, "Alas, what a worthless son am I, to have thus lost my family's treasured heirloom!"

Having said this, he took off his shirt and put on Skinflint's fox-fur gown. Then he pocketed the fifty taels of silver and strode away.

Skinflint's joy knew no bounds. Several days later his father-in-law's birthday came round. In order to show off his new acquisition, he went to convey his birthday greetings wearing nothing but the Fire Dragon Shirt. In the middle of the journey, a fierce wind came up and it began to snow. Skinflint felt unbearably cold. The place was far from village or inn, and there was no shelter of any sort to be found. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a tree by the roadside, half of which had burnt away in a fire. It was hollow in the middle and the space was wide enough for a person to stand up in. Skinflint hurried over and hid inside. Shortly afterwards his whole body became numb with cold, and soon he died.

Several days later the family found his body. They knew that he had been cheated again by Bigmouth, and sent men to seize him.

"My precious shirt burns whenever it comes into contact with kindling, grass or timber," explained Bigmouth. "The master must have been burned to death in this way. I am not to blame. I never told him to hide inside a tree. If you look, you will see that half of the tree has been burnt away."

When the family examined the tree and saw that it was indeed as Bigmouth had described, they had no choice but to set him free.

Source: Favourite Folktales of China, translated by John Minford (Beijing: New World Press, 1983), pp. 39-48. No copyright notice.

The adventures described in this trickster tale resemble those typically contained in European tales of Aarne-Thompson type 1539.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much is an ice cream sundae?”

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. “How much is a dish of plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. “Thirty-five cents,” she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

Long ago the kangaroo was grooming her joey on the bank of a brook. They liked to listen to the water burble as the mama combed her baby’s fur. On this day, an old wombat staggered toward them.

“Oh dear,” the kangaroo whispered to her baby. “This wombat is old and sick. He must have great-great-grandchildren already.”

The mother kangaroo thought she heard the sound of weeping. As the wombat veered closer, she heard him say, “Useless and worthless, worthless and useless.”

“What’s the trouble, friend wombat?” she asked.

“Huh?” he said, startled. “Who said that?”

“I did,” said the kangaroo. “A kangaroo and her joey.”

“I’m blind,” the wombat replied. “Nobody wants me around. Nobody thinks about me. I’m no good any more. They’ve abandoned me, all of them.”

The kangaroo, who had a tender heart, said, “It’s not as bad as all that. I’ll be your friend. My joey and I will show you where the tastiest grass grows.” She let the wombat hold her tail. Then, slowly, she led him over to the juiciest grass and cleanest water. The old wombat sighed with pleasure. It made the kangaroo happy to see him feeling better.

Suddenly she remembered her joey! She had told him to stay close, but he had wandered off again. She raced back to look for him. So many times this had happened. She’d look for food, and when she looked up, he had wandered off. It scared her terribly.

She found her joey asleep under a gum tree. Not wanting to wake him from his nap, she decided to go back and check on the old wombat. Something was moving in the bush. An Aboriginal hunter, silently stalking the wombat! Already his boomerang was raised above his head, its smooth edges ready to slice the air. The kangaroo froze. She couldn’t even breathe. She wanted to run, but the wombat was like her joey—she had to protect him!

The kangaroo began to stomp on the branches and twigs under her feet. Thump, thump, crack, crack, she pounded the earth. The hunter turned toward her. “Run,” she screamed to the wombat, “Run, there’s a hunter.” The wombat took off crazily, not knowing where he was going. The hunter didn’t care. Now all he wanted was the kangaroo!

She hopped as hard and fast as she could into the bush, away, away from where she had left her joey asleep. Her heart thumped wildly in her throat as she ran for her life. At last she came to a cave. She was too tired to go farther, and collapsed on the dirt floor inside. At least he would have to kill her in the cool dark, not out in the open where other animals would be forced to watch.

The hunter ran past the mouth of the cave! The kangaroo stayed inside, listening for his return. She was afraid to go out. Finally, she saw him walk past the mouth of the cave again, his boomerang hanging from his hand. She waited until it was safe, then ran as fast as she could back to the gum tree. There was her joey, awake and ready to play. Together they went to look for the wombat, but he had gone.

What the kangaroo mother didn’t know was that the wombat wasn’t a wombat. He was actually the great god Byamee who had put on a disguise. Byamee had descended from the sky world to find out which of his creatures had the kindest heart. Now he had an answer that pleased him greatly: the kangaroo. Byamee wanted to give her the gift that would help her most of all. So he called the sky spirits together and said, “Go down below to where the eucalyptus grow tall. Peel the long strips of bark and make a dilly bag apron. Give it to the kangaroo mother and explain that she must tie it around her waist.”

And so they did. At the very moment the kangaroo mother tied the apron around her waist, Byamee transformed it into soft kangaroo fur. It grew into her own flesh. Now she had a pouch in which to carry her baby joey. He could even sleep in there as she went about her daily tasks.

The kangaroo mother was very happy with her gift. But because she was the kindest creature of all, she didn’t want to keep it only for herself. She thought about the other kangaroo mothers and about the wallaby mothers and the kangaroo rats and all the other marsupials.

Byamee loved the kangaroo’s generous heart. So he decided to make pouches for all the other marsupial mothers. Ever since then, their babies almost never get lost.

And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. <o:p></o:p>

 42And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. <o:p></o:p>

 43And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury:

 44For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living.<o:p></o:p>

A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream.

The next day she met another traveler who was hungry,
and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food.

The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation.

The traveler left rejoicing in his good fortune.
He knew the stone was worth enough to give him
security for a lifetime. But, a few days later,
he came back to return the stone to the wise woman.

"I've been thinking," he said. "I know how valuable this stone is,
but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something
even more precious. Give me what you have within you that
enabled you to give me this stone.

" Sometimes it's not the wealth you have
but what's inside you that others need.

By Irina Y. Starovoytova

A Russian Tsar wanted to learn what life was like for other people in his country. So nobody could guess who he was, he put on some shabby clothes and then set off on a walking tour around the country.

He was hungry and cold when he came to a small old hut in a small village at the bank of the river near the forest. There was so much snow that it took him a long time to find the hut's door. He could hardly speak when he finally knocked. A peasant opened the door and saw a stranger who was cold and tired. So he invited the man into the house and sat him down in the warmest part of the only room, just near the stove. The peasant had many children and too little food. But when the family saw that their guest had a cough, they cooked soup from the only chicken they had.

It seemed to the Tsar that he had never tasted such a delicious dish! He was impressed by their generosity.

"I want to do something equal for you, but I am afraid I can't," said the Tsar. "You gave me the last chicken you had."

"Oh, never mind! It's too bad to catch a cold while traveling here in winter. And the hot chicken soup will help you to feel much better," answered the peasant.

"Thank you, kind man," said the Tsar. He counted all the tiny drops of fat in his chicken soup and handed the peasant a gold coin for each one. The astonished family couldn't believe that the guest in their home was the Tsar!

The Tsar continued his travel around the country.
A rich neighbor heard the story about the Tsar's visit and the money he gave the peasant's family for a bowl of chicken soup. So he decided to get some money, too.

When he saw the Tsar, he rushed into the street and invited the Tsar into his nice big house. His housekeeper cooked a delicious chicken soup, and the man treated the Tsar with it, pretending that he didn't know who the guest was. "Try our simple dish, my dear friend! You are tired and hungry after a long travel," said the rich man, smiling.

"Thank you, kind man," answered the Tsar. "You deserve something for your kindness and hospitality. I'll pay you as many gold coins as there are fat drops in my chicken soup bowl."

But the chicken soup had only one big, thick layer of fat, because it was cooked from the biggest and fattest chicken the rich man had.

So the Tsar left the house, and a small gold coin was left on the table.

Note:  Related curriculum materials are available at Tolerance.org.