In China two boys lived near each other, but they were as different from each other as night is from day. Go Ne loved nature. Wen Shu loved only what money could buy.
One day Go Ne came upon a baby swallow that had fallen from its nest. The little bird's leg was broken. Go Ne carefully lifted up the creature into his hands and hurried home. There he bound the broken leg and nursed the swallow for days until its leg was healed and strong. Then Go Ne opened the window and said, "Fly away now, little swallow. You are free."
The bird perched on the window ledge for a moment and then flew away.
That afternoon the swallow returned, carrying in his beak a yellow seed. Go Ne thanked the bird and ran outside. There he planted it in his garden.
The next morning Go Ne looked outside and saw that a tall, thick, twisting vine had grown overnight. And on that vine was a ripe pumpkin. It was huge, almost as large as the full moon in the spring sky. The boy realized that this food was a gift from the swallow. He took his knife and sliced open the pumpkin. When he looked inside, he saw, in place of pumpkin meat, great stacks of silver and gold coins.
Word spread quickly of the wealth Go Ne had earned by his kindness. Nearly everyone was happy for the boy, because he was loved for his generosity. But Wen Shu, who stood among the crowd staring in wonder at the pumpkin, was not happy. "I want to be rich!" he thought enviously.
He set off at once and walked along until he spied a swallow sitting upon a rooftop. Wen Shu grabbed a long stick, reached up, and knocked the swallow to the ground.
The swallow cried out, for when it fell, it broke its leg. Wen Shu picked up the wounded bird. "Don't worry," he said, and carried the swallow home. There he tended to the broken bone, nursing the bird as closely as Go Ne had done. When the swallow was strong and healthy, he took it to the open window and set it free.
Before long the swallow returned, a seed in his beak.
Wen Shu was overjoyed. He planted the seed in the soil outside his house, and within a day a thick vine grew, and on that vine a giant pumpkin sprouted.
Wen Shu sliced open the pumpkin, but to his surprise, there was no gold or silver inside. Instead Wen Shu saw a little old man with a long, white beard. The old man pointed a thin finger at Wen Shu. "You are a bad child," he said. "Don't you know that jealousy is wrong? Don't you know that hurting a swallow so you can nurse it back to health is cruel?"
Wen Shu looked at the ground as the old man went on. "Well," he said, "I suppose you still wish to have your riches, do you?"
Wen Shu looked up and nodded.
"Then follow me," said the old man, and he began to climb the vine.
Wen Shu quickly followed him. They climbed for what seemed like hours, but at last they reached the top.
"Welcome to the Palace of the Boundless Cold," the old man said. "We are now on the moon."
Wen Shu could not believe his eyes. The palace was made of shimmering gold, and surrounding it were plants of jade, trees of silver, bushes thick with rubies and emeralds. Wen Shu wandered around, amazed and delighted. "I am rich!" he cried.
But there was no food in this world, and there was no water, and Wen Shu had no mat upon which to sleep. And it was cold, so cold the boy's toes began to feel as brittle as ice. After a while the brilliant jewels nearly blinded him, and the vine upon which he had climbed to the Palace of the Boundless Cold had withered.
"Sir," Wen Shu called for the old man, "I have learned my lesson. I am punished for my jealousy. Please let me go home."
"Very well," the old man said, and handed him a silver ax. "With this ax you must cut down the cinnamon tree. When you have finished cutting it, you may return to Earth."
Wen Shu ran to the cinnamon tree and set to work. This, of course, was a special cinnamon tree, with a trunk and branches made of solid gold, leaves of bright green jade and blossoms of shiny sapphires.
"Ah," sighed Wen Shu, "I shall take these jewels home, and then I will be the wealthiest man in China." He raised his ax, swung, and cut a deep gash in the trunk. He raised the ax again, but as he did, he felt a sudden and sharp pain between his shoulders.
He turned and saw, behind him, a giant white crow. "Get away," he cried. "Get away or I'll chop off your head."
The crow flew away, and Wen Shu turned back to the tree. But when he did, he saw that the cut he had made had disappeared. In its place was smooth, hard, golden bark.
He lifted the ax and swung again, but once again the crow attacked. Each time Wen Shu tried to cut that tree, the crow attacked him. And each time Wen Shu shooed the bird away, the cut he had made disappeared.
Ever since that day, Wen Shu has been trying to chop down the cinnamon tree on the moon. If you look up at the moon when it is full, you will see him with his ax, and also see the white crow, and you may remember Wen Shu's folly.
The second book collection of wonderful tales from "Tell Me a Story" is available for $14.95, plus $2 for postage and handling. Send your orders to "The Spectacular Gift," in care of Andrews McMeel Publishing, P.O. Box 419242, Kansas City, Mo. 64141; or call (800) 642-6480. Be sure to indicate your newspaper's name on your order. Allow three to four weeks for delivery.
One day Go Ne came upon a baby swallow that had fallen from its nest. The little bird's leg was broken. Go Ne carefully lifted up the creature into his hands and hurried home. There he bound the broken leg and nursed the swallow for days until its leg was healed and strong. Then Go Ne opened the window and said, "Fly away now, little swallow. You are free."
The bird perched on the window ledge for a moment and then flew away.
That afternoon the swallow returned, carrying in his beak a yellow seed. Go Ne thanked the bird and ran outside. There he planted it in his garden.
The next morning Go Ne looked outside and saw that a tall, thick, twisting vine had grown overnight. And on that vine was a ripe pumpkin. It was huge, almost as large as the full moon in the spring sky. The boy realized that this food was a gift from the swallow. He took his knife and sliced open the pumpkin. When he looked inside, he saw, in place of pumpkin meat, great stacks of silver and gold coins.
Word spread quickly of the wealth Go Ne had earned by his kindness. Nearly everyone was happy for the boy, because he was loved for his generosity. But Wen Shu, who stood among the crowd staring in wonder at the pumpkin, was not happy. "I want to be rich!" he thought enviously.
He set off at once and walked along until he spied a swallow sitting upon a rooftop. Wen Shu grabbed a long stick, reached up, and knocked the swallow to the ground.
The swallow cried out, for when it fell, it broke its leg. Wen Shu picked up the wounded bird. "Don't worry," he said, and carried the swallow home. There he tended to the broken bone, nursing the bird as closely as Go Ne had done. When the swallow was strong and healthy, he took it to the open window and set it free.
Before long the swallow returned, a seed in his beak.
Wen Shu was overjoyed. He planted the seed in the soil outside his house, and within a day a thick vine grew, and on that vine a giant pumpkin sprouted.
Wen Shu sliced open the pumpkin, but to his surprise, there was no gold or silver inside. Instead Wen Shu saw a little old man with a long, white beard. The old man pointed a thin finger at Wen Shu. "You are a bad child," he said. "Don't you know that jealousy is wrong? Don't you know that hurting a swallow so you can nurse it back to health is cruel?"
Wen Shu looked at the ground as the old man went on. "Well," he said, "I suppose you still wish to have your riches, do you?"
Wen Shu looked up and nodded.
"Then follow me," said the old man, and he began to climb the vine.
Wen Shu quickly followed him. They climbed for what seemed like hours, but at last they reached the top.
"Welcome to the Palace of the Boundless Cold," the old man said. "We are now on the moon."
Wen Shu could not believe his eyes. The palace was made of shimmering gold, and surrounding it were plants of jade, trees of silver, bushes thick with rubies and emeralds. Wen Shu wandered around, amazed and delighted. "I am rich!" he cried.
But there was no food in this world, and there was no water, and Wen Shu had no mat upon which to sleep. And it was cold, so cold the boy's toes began to feel as brittle as ice. After a while the brilliant jewels nearly blinded him, and the vine upon which he had climbed to the Palace of the Boundless Cold had withered.
"Sir," Wen Shu called for the old man, "I have learned my lesson. I am punished for my jealousy. Please let me go home."
"Very well," the old man said, and handed him a silver ax. "With this ax you must cut down the cinnamon tree. When you have finished cutting it, you may return to Earth."
Wen Shu ran to the cinnamon tree and set to work. This, of course, was a special cinnamon tree, with a trunk and branches made of solid gold, leaves of bright green jade and blossoms of shiny sapphires.
"Ah," sighed Wen Shu, "I shall take these jewels home, and then I will be the wealthiest man in China." He raised his ax, swung, and cut a deep gash in the trunk. He raised the ax again, but as he did, he felt a sudden and sharp pain between his shoulders.
He turned and saw, behind him, a giant white crow. "Get away," he cried. "Get away or I'll chop off your head."
The crow flew away, and Wen Shu turned back to the tree. But when he did, he saw that the cut he had made had disappeared. In its place was smooth, hard, golden bark.
He lifted the ax and swung again, but once again the crow attacked. Each time Wen Shu tried to cut that tree, the crow attacked him. And each time Wen Shu shooed the bird away, the cut he had made disappeared.
Ever since that day, Wen Shu has been trying to chop down the cinnamon tree on the moon. If you look up at the moon when it is full, you will see him with his ax, and also see the white crow, and you may remember Wen Shu's folly.
The second book collection of wonderful tales from "Tell Me a Story" is available for $14.95, plus $2 for postage and handling. Send your orders to "The Spectacular Gift," in care of Andrews McMeel Publishing, P.O. Box 419242, Kansas City, Mo. 64141; or call (800) 642-6480. Be sure to indicate your newspaper's name on your order. Allow three to four weeks for delivery.
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