I have said that Russian fairy tales and folk stories are full of the same spirit of matter-of-factness. And so essential do I consider this factor to be, so indispensable do I consider the comprehension of it by the would-be student of Russian literature, that I will quote a short folk-story at length, which reveals this quality in its essence. The reader will only have to compare the following tale in his mind with a French, English, or German fairy tale to see what I mean. THE FOOL Once upon a time in a certain kingdom there lived an old man, and he had three sons. Two of them were clever, the third was a fool. The father died, and the sons drew lots for his property: the clever sons won every kind of useful thing; the fool only received an old ox, and that was a lean and bony one. The time of the fair came, and the clever brothers made themselves ready to go and do a deal. The fool saw them doing this, and said: “I also, brothers, shall take my ox to the market.” And he led his ox by a rope tied to its horn, towards the town. On the way to the town he went through a wood, and in the wood there stood an old dried-up birch tree. The wind blew and the birch tree groaned. “Why does the birch tree groan?” thought the fool. “Does it perhaps wish to bargain for my ox? Now tell me, birch tree, if you wish to buy. If that is so, buy. The price of the ox is twenty roubles: I cannot take less. Show your money.” But the birch tree answered nothing at all, and only groaned, and the fool was astonished that the birch tree wished to receive the ox on credit. “If that is so, I will wait till to-morrow,” said the fool. He tied the ox to the birch tree, said good-bye to it, and went home. The clever brothers came to him and began to question him. “Well, fool,” they said, “have you sold your ox?” “I have sold it.” “Did you sell it dear?” “I sold it for twenty roubles.” “And where is the money?” “I have not yet got the money. I have been told I shall receive it to-morrow.” “Oh, you simpleton!” said the clever brothers. On the next day, early in the morning, the fool got up, made himself ready, and went to the birch tree for his money. He arrived at the wood; the birch tree was there, swaying in the wind, but the ox was not there any more,--the wolves had eaten him in the night. “Now, countryman,” said the fool to the birch tree, “pay me the money. You promised you would pay it to-day.” The wind blew, the birch tree groaned, and the fool said: “Well, you are an untrustworthy fellow! Yesterday you said, ‘I will pay the money to-morrow,’ and to-day you are trying to get out of it. If this is so I will wait yet another day, but after that I shall wait no longer, for I shall need the money myself.” The fool went home, and his clever brothers again asked him: “Well, have you received your money?” “No, brothers,” he answered, “I shall have to wait still another little day.” “Whom did you sell it to?” “A dried old birch tree in the wood.”