In olden times, when all the world believed in Christianity, there lived in India a pious Christian. This man resolved to lead a hermit’s life; and, as he was wandering up and down through India, he found a great cave, where he took up his abode, that he might lead a life wholly pleasing to God. Thus passed away many years while he dwelt in the solitude of the wilderness, far from any living soul.

One evening, when he had said his evening prayer and lain down upon his bed of moss, he thought in his heart, “O Thou my God! I have already tarried many years in this solitude, and it has never been vouchsafed to me to convert a single soul to Thy holy faith. For in the many years which I have spent here I have seen no human being nor any living creature.”

While thinking thus the Hermit stretched himself upon his bed and sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids. He awoke at daybreak, said his morning prayer, and then became aware of a little Mouse, which looked confidingly at him and glided toward him into the cave.

Then said the Hermit, “Praise and glory to Thee, O God, that I again look upon one of Thy creatures!”

Little by little there grew up between the Mouse and the Hermit such a warm friendship that the two were perfectly inseparable. The hoary Hermit derived the greatest joy from this friendship, and he constantly besought God to transform the little Mouse into a young girl, to be a daughter to him.

His prayer was answered; the little Mouse became a fair young girl, and the old man felt at last that his life would not have been spent in vain, since it was vouchsafed to him to instruct this creature of God in the good and right way.

So passed away the Hermit’s life in peace and piety until the young girl had attained the full bloom of maidenhood. Then thought the Hermit:

“I am already full of days; I have lived always to the glory of God, and the end of my life draws near. It would be a sin if this beautiful creature of God, who knows nothing of the world, should be left to grow old and wither away in this solitary vale. It would be better that she should marry.”

Impelled by this thought, he called the maiden to him and said, “My little daughter, you are now grown up and old enough to be married. You ought also to see the world, for this place where we live is not the whole world. The world is large, and there are in it many beautiful creatures of God whom you have never seen.”

The maiden answered, “I thank you, my father; may your will be done in each and every thing. Only let me make one request, that you will find me a husband to my liking, and, before all things, let him be that creature of God which is stronger than any other in the world.”

The Hermit consented and set off upon his quest. In the course of his journey he met the Moon, and greeted him with, “God be with thee, thou holy Moon, strongest of all God’s creatures! I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!”

The Moon answered, “What foolish talk is this? I the strongest of God’s creatures! I shine in the night, but as soon as the Sun overtakes me he robs me of my light. Address yourself to the Sun; he is stronger than I.”

The Hermit now betook himself to the Sun, and said, “God be with thee, O strong and shining Sun! Thou art the strongest of all God’s creatures. I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!”

And the Sun replied, “Thou errest in taking me for the strongest. The clouds are stronger and mightier than I, for when I shed abroad my rays then the clouds unroll themselves and veil my splendor. So they are stronger than I.”

Then the Hermit sought a Cloud, and greeted him with, “God be with thee!” and said, “Thou Cloud-man, strongest and mightiest of all God’s creatures, I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!”

And the Cloud-man answered, “That cannot be, for the Wind is stronger than I. When I spread myself over the bright expanse of heaven, then comes the Wind and tears me into countless fragments. Go to the Wind; he is stronger than I.”

The Hermit betook himself to the Wind, hailed him with, “God be with thee!” and said, “Thou mightiest of all God’s creatures, strongest of all in the world, take my daughter for thy wife!”

The Wind answered, “Oh, old man, how should I be the strongest? When I begin to blow, the Mountain stands in my way, so that the people on its farther side know nothing about me. Go to the Mountain; he is stronger than I.”

The old man went to the Mountain and said, “God be with thee, thou rocky Mountain, strongest thing in the world! I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!”

“Oho, old man!” answered the Mountain, “do you imagine that I am the strongest in the world? Don’t you see me riddled all over by mice, who burrow in me night and day? Search for a Mouse, for he is stronger than I.”

So the old man went to a Mouse, and said, “Thou strongest of all God’s creatures, I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!”

“I am not unwilling,” answered the Mouse, “but I have not yet seen the maiden. Bring her here first, that I may see her; then will I wed her.”

The old Hermit returned home and said, “Well, my little daughter, I have found a husband for you; follow me!”

They presented themselves before the Mouse, and the old Hermit said, “Here is thy wife.”

“Oho, what shall I do with her?” asked the Mouse. “She cannot even get into my little palace!”

But the maiden said to the old man, “This shall be my husband; only pray to God to transform me again into a Mouse, that I may go with him.”

The old Hermit, who saw no help for it, fell upon his knees and begged God to restore his daughter to her former state. That very moment the maiden was changed into a Mouse and went with her husband.

As for the old Hermit, he still lived on piously till the end of his days, convinced that every one must die with the same nature with which he was born.

“I should like to go to the sun, grandmother,” said the little boy.

“You would find it very hot,” said the grandmother.

“Did you ever go, little grandma?” asked the little boy.

“No one goes nowadays,” said the grandmother.

“They went in your great-grandmother’s time?” ventured the little boy.

“Before her time, even,” said the grandmother. “Things are greatly changed since then.”

The younger sisters had come in from swinging and were sitting on the other end of the bench. The eldest sister was walking with her betrothed in the lovely summer twilight.

“No one ever went to the sun,” said one of the sisters. “It is much too far off. I have learned it in school. And this world goes around it every day.”

“There were no schools in your great-grandmother’s time,” replied the grandmother, “and things were different then. The world did not move in those days; it rested on three great whales which were swimming in the ocean. My grandmother told me all about it.”

The little boy pondered this fact for a while. Presently he said:

“One more story, little grandmother?”

It was still light, for twilight is very long in Russia. The grandmother told the story of

An Emperor once had an only daughter of surpassing beauty. In his pride he caused it to be sounded abroad through all the world that the youth who should guess the position of a certain mole on the maiden’s person should have her for his wife, and the half of his empire besides. But those who did not guess right should be transformed into lambs.

This wonderful news spread over the whole world, so that wooers by thousands came from all lands to sue for the Princess’s hand. But all in vain. A countless number of them were changed into lambs.

The news came also to the ears of a youth who was as poor as a church mouse, but who was as sharp as a needle for all that. His desire to possess the beautiful maiden and half the empire grew so strong that he decided to try his fortune; not, however, by suing at once for the maiden’s hand, but by seeing her first and asking her something.

Arrived at the Emperor’s court, what wonders does he see! Lambs of all kinds pressed around him—God only knows how many there were.

They swarmed about him, a pitiful sight and a warning example that might well turn him from his project. He would have gone back, but at the gate was a monster of a man, wrapped in a blood-red mantle, with wings, and an eye in the middle of his forehead, who cried out in a commanding voice, “Halt! Where are you going? Go back, or you are lost!”

So he went back and caused himself to be announced to the Emperor’s daughter, who was already waiting for him. She said to him, “Did you come to get me for your wife?”

He answered, “No, Imperial Highness; but as I understood that you were thinking of marrying at the first favorable opportunity, I come to ask you if you need more bridal-clothes.”

“What kind of clothes have you to offer?” she asked.

He answered, “I have a skirt of marble, a bodice of dew, a head-dress of threads made from the sun’s rays, with a clasp of the moon and stars; then I have shoes of pure gold which were neither sewed nor made by a smith. So, tell me, do you wish to buy these things or not? You have but to command, and I will bring them to you, but only on one condition. When you try these things on, piece by piece, there shall be no one present but only us two. If they fit we shall soon come to terms; if not, I will never offer them to another soul, but will lay them aside and keep them for my own bride.”

The Princess agreed to this condition and gave him the order to bring the garments. And, really, he brought them to her. God only knows where he found them and how he came to possess them; it is enough for us to know that he kept his word.

They shut themselves up in a room, and first she tried on the skirt, while he watched narrowly to see if by chance he could discover the mole. To his joy he saw it under her right knee—a little golden star; but not the slightest change in his face betrayed his discovery. He only thought in his heart, “It is well for me to-day and for all time!”

Then the Princess tried on the bodice and all the other things, and they fitted her as if she had been poured into them. They agreed as to the price; she paid it on the spot; he packed up his gold and departed.

After a few days, having dressed himself in the finest suit that could be bought for money, he came back to sue for the hand of the Emperor’s daughter. When he appeared before the Emperor he said, “Worthy Emperor, I come to woo your daughter. Make no objections; give her to me!”

“Good!” answered the Emperor; “but do you know how my daughter’s hand is won? Take good care, for if you do not guess the mole you are lost; but if you do guess it she will be yours, and the half of my empire into the bargain.”

The youth bowed to the Emperor and said, “My greetings, O Emperor and father-in-law! If that is the case she is mine. She has a little star under the right knee.”

The Emperor was not a little surprised that he could know this, but there was nothing for it but to yield, and so the youth was married to the Princess.

When the Emperor proceeded to give him the half of his empire the new-made son-in-law said to him, “I willingly leave this half of your empire to you if you are ready to restore these poor souls to their former condition.”

The Emperor answered that this was no longer in his power, but lay in the hands of his daughter, “who now,” he added, “is your wife.”

So he turned to his wife with this request, and she answered:

“Cut the vein under the famous mole. Let every lamb touch the end of its tongue to the blood and moisten its underlip with it, and they will all be changed to men and live as before.”

He did as she directed, and when the lambs had all assumed the forms of men again they were invited as wedding-guests.

Thus the youth took the maiden home amid song and chime of bells, and there he treated everybody royally to meat and drink, until finally they took their homeward way. But he stayed there with his young wife, and God knows what fortunes they met with in life that are all forgotten now.

“I am sorry you have forgotten anything, grandmother,” said the little boy. “It is not dark yet, and I wanted a longer story.”

“It is not I who forgot,” answered the grandmother. “I remember every word as it was told to me.”

“It must have been your great-grandmother,” observed the little boy. “I wish she had had a better memory.”

“I will tell you a short story to make up,” said the grandmother. “It explains why there is so much knot-grass.”

“I should like to know that,” said one of the sisters. “My fingers are tired rooting it out.”

So the grandmother told about

Once upon a time an old hag got up early and went out among the mountains to gather all sorts of green herbs and practise her sorceries.

About midday she set out upon her return, and met some Knot-grass hastening to the mountains.

“Hi! whither away?” asked the witch. “What bad luck sends you on this rough road?”

“Upon my word, little mother, I can’t stand it down there any longer! Wherever the moujik digs or ploughs he does his best to root me out, tearing and clawing me with all his might. There is nothing left for me but to flee away and seek some quiet place where I can grow and spread in peace.”

“Go back to your home, little grass,” replied the old hag. “Mark my words, the more they dig and hoe about a plant the better it thrives and the more it spreads. What does the proverb say? ‘Woe to the thing that never is harvested!’”

The Knot-grass turned about, and ever since that day it has been found in meadow and field, in vineyard and garden—everywhere, indeed, where it is not wanted; and it is a hard matter to root it out.