Children's stories, English; Fairy tales; Short stories, English
Terribly cold it certainly was. The little Squirrels, who lived inside
the tall fir-tree, kept rubbing each other’s noses to keep themselves
warm, and the Rabbits curled themselves up in their holes, and did not
venture even to look out of doors. The only people who seemed to enjoy
it were the great horned Owls. Their feathers were quite stiff with
rime, but they did not mind, and they rolled their large yellow eyes, and
called out to each other across the forest, ‘Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! Tu-whit!
Tu-whoo! what delightful weather we are having!’
On and on went the two Woodcutters, blowing lustily upon their fingers,
and stamping with their huge iron-shod boots upon the caked snow. Once
they sank into a deep drift, and came out as white as millers are, when
the stones are grinding; and once they slipped on the hard smooth ice
where the marsh-water was frozen, and their faggots fell out of their
bundles, and they had to pick them up and bind them together again; and
once they thought that they had lost their way, and a great terror seized
on them, for they knew that the Snow is cruel to those who sleep in her
arms. But they put their trust in the good Saint Martin, who watches
over all travellers, and retraced their steps, and went warily, and at
last they reached the outskirts of the forest, and saw, far down in the
valley beneath them, the lights of the village in which they dwelt.
So overjoyed were they at their deliverance that they laughed aloud, and
the Earth seemed to them like a flower of silver, and the Moon like a
flower of gold.
Yet, after that they had laughed they became sad, for they remembered
their poverty, and one of them said to the other, ‘Why did we make merry,
seeing that life is for the rich, and not for such as we are? Better
that we had died of cold in the forest, or that some wild beast had
fallen upon us and slain us.’
‘Truly,’ answered his companion, ‘much is given to some, and little is
given to others. Injustice has parcelled out the world, nor is there
equal division of aught save of sorrow.’
But as they were bewailing their misery to each other this strange thing
happened. There fell from heaven a very bright and beautiful star. It
slipped down the side of the sky, passing by the other stars in its
course, and, as they watched it wondering, it seemed to them to sink
behind a clump of willow-trees that stood hard by a little sheepfold no
more than a stone’s-throw away.
‘Why! there is a crook of gold for whoever finds it,’ they cried, and
they set to and ran, so eager were they for the gold.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account