Ah, my lads! it was a fine, free life in Russia when there were neither landlords nor priests nor fat shopkeepers. But that didn’t last long, the old men say, for the devil saw that the peasant was getting the better of him; there was no stealing or lying on earth, because every one lived happily; and the devil began to think—how could he spoil the race of men. Seven years long he thought, never eating, drinking, or sleeping—then he invented the priest. Then he thought seven years more—and invented the barine.[45] Then he thought seven years more—and invented the merchant. Then the devil was pleased, and chuckled till all the leaves fell off the trees. So the devil sent priest, barine, and merchant to the peasant. But the silly peasant, instead of shaking them off, clothed and fed them and let them ride on his neck. So from that time on there were no more good days for the peasant; priests and barines and shopkeepers tore him in pieces. Not with knives or swords they wounded him, but with a copper kopeck. When the sun rose he thought: Where shall I get a kopeck? When the sun set he thought, Where shall I get a kopeck? Then the peasant prayed to his Mother Earth: “Oh, Mother Earth, tell me where to get a kopeck.” And the Earth answered, muttering: “In me is thy wealth.” The peasant took a spade and began to dig. He dug all the day long, and a second and a third day. He dug a deep, deep pit, but still there was no kopeck. He dug through the soil and came to sand, through the sand and came to mud. He dug and dug and baled out the water. At last he came to clay. His spade was all spoiled, and yet there was no kopeck. Then he began to dig with his hands, and dug and dug; then he came to stone and could dig no further. The peasant fell down on the breast of his Mother Earth, and asked her why she had jested with him so bitterly. Suddenly he saw; under a clod lay a copper kopeck. It was all green and spotted with damp, and as rough as the earth itself. The peasant seized it, kissed it, wrapped it up and put it in his breast. Then he crawled out to God’s daylight and went home with his kopeck. As he went the birch tree with her thick tresses greeted him and asked— “Peasant, peasant, why is thy clothing like a fishing-net?” “I have gained a kopeck,” he answered. “Thy kopeck costs thee dear,” said the birch tree, shaking her locks. He went on further and the forest bird asked him— “Peasant, peasant, why art thou all roughened and blistered like oak-bark?” “I have gained a kopeck.” The bird whistled and flew away, saying to herself, “I’m glad I’m not a peasant.” He walked on, and the river fish asked him— “Peasant, peasant, why art thou as thin as a herring?” “I have gained a kopeck.” The fish said nothing, she only whisked her tail and dived right down to the river-bed to get away from the world, for fear she should be made into a peasant too.