Not many years ago there lived on a stony, barren New England farm a man and
his wife. They were sober, honest people, working hard from early morning until
dark to enable them to secure a scanty living from their poor land.
Their house, a small, one-storied building, stood upon the side of a steep
hill, and the stones lay so thickly about it that scarce anything green could
grow from the ground. At the foot of the hill, a quarter of a mile from the
house by the winding path, was a small brook, and the woman was obliged to go
there for water and to carry it up the hill to the house. This was a tedious
task, and with the other hard work that fell to her share had made her gaunt
and bent and lean.
Yet she never complained, but meekly and faithfully performed her duties, doing
the housework, carrying the water and helping her husband hoe the scanty crop
that grew upon the best part of their land.
One day, as she walked down the path to the brook, her big shoes scattering the
pebbles right and left, she noticed a large beetle lying upon its back and
struggling hard with its little legs to turn over, that its feet might again
touch the ground. But this it could not accomplish; so the woman, who had a
kind heart, reached down and gently turned the beetle with her finger. At once
it scampered from the path and she went on to the brook.
The next day, as she came for water, she was surprised to see the beetle again
lying upon its back and struggling helplessly to turn. Once more the woman
stopped and set him upon his feet; and then, as she stooped over the tiny
creature, she heard a small voice say:
“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much for saving me!”
Half frightened at hearing a beetle speak in her own language, the woman
started back and exclaimed:
“La sakes! Surely you can’t talk like humans!” Then,
recovering from her alarm, she again bent over the beetle, who answered her:
“Why shouldn’t I talk, if I have anything to say?
“’Cause you’re a bug,” replied the woman.
“That is true; and you saved my life—saved me from my enemies, the
sparrows. And this is the second time you have come to my assistance, so I owe
you a debt of gratitude. Bugs value their lives as much as human beings, and I
am a more important creature than you, in your ignorance, may suppose. But,
tell me, why do you come each day to the brook?”
“For water,” she answered, staring stupidly down at the talking
beetle.
“Isn’t it hard work?” the creature inquired.
“Yes; but there’s no water on the hill,” said she.
“Then dig a well and put a pump in it,” replied the beetle.
She shook her head.
“My man tried it once; but there was no water,” she said, sadly.
“Try it again,” commanded the beetle; “and in return for your
kindness to me I will make this promise: if you do not get water from the well
you will get that which is more precious to you. I must go now. Do not forget.
Dig a well.”
And then, without pausing to say good-by, it ran swiftly away and was lost
among the stones.
The woman returned to the house much perplexed by what the beetle had said, and
when her husband came in from his work she told him the whole story.
The poor man thought deeply for a time, and then declared:
“Wife, there may be truth in what the bug told you. There must be magic
in the world yet, if a beetle can speak; and if there is such a thing as magic
we may get water from the well. The pump I bought to use in the well which
proved to be dry is now lying in the barn, and the only expense in following
the talking bug’s advice will be the labor of digging the hole. Labor I
am used to; so I will dig the well.”
Next day he set about it, and dug so far down in the ground that he could
hardly reach the top to climb out again; but not a drop of water was found.
“Perhaps you did not dig deep enough,” his wife said, when he told
her of his failure.
So the following day he made a long ladder, which he put into the hole; and
then he dug, and dug, and dug, until the top of the ladder barely reached the
top of the hole. But still there was no water.
When the woman next went to the brook with her pail she saw the beetle sitting
upon a stone beside her path. So she stopped and said:
“My husband has dug the well; but there is no water.”
“Did he put the pump in the well?” asked the beetle.
“No,” she answered.
“Then do as I commanded; put in the pump, and if you do not get water I
promise you something still more precious.”
Saying which, the beetle swiftly slid from the stone and disappeared. The woman
went back to the house and told her husband what the bug had said.
“Well,” replied the simple fellow, “there can be no harm in
trying.”
So he got the pump from the barn and placed it in the well, and then he took
hold of the handle and began to pump, while his wife stood by to watch what
would happen.
No water came, but after a few moments a gold piece dropped from the spout of
the pump, and then another, and another, until several handfuls of gold lay in
a little heap upon the ground.
The man stopped pumping then and ran to help his wife gather the gold pieces
into her apron; but their hands trembled so greatly through excitement and joy
that they could scarcely pick up the sparkling coins.
At last she gathered them close to her bosom and together they ran to the
house, where they emptied the precious gold upon the table and counted the
pieces.
All were stamped with the design of the United States mint and were worth five
dollars each. Some were worn and somewhat discolored from use, while others
seemed bright and new, as if they had not been much handled. When the value of
the pieces was added together they were found to be worth three hundred
dollars.
Suddenly the woman spoke.
“Husband, the beetle said truly when he declared we should get something
more precious than water from the well. But run at once and take away the
handle from the pump, lest anyone should pass this way and discover our
secret.”
So the man ran to the pump and removed the handle, which he carried to the
house and hid underneath the bed.
They hardly slept a wink that night, lying awake to think of their good fortune
and what they should do with their store of yellow gold. In all their former
lives they had never possessed more than a few dollars at a time, and now the
cracked teapot was nearly full of gold coins.
The following day was Sunday, and they arose early and ran to see if their
treasure was safe. There it lay, heaped snugly within the teapot, and they were
so willing to feast their eyes upon it that it was long before the man could
leave it to build the fire or the woman to cook the breakfast.
While they ate their simple meal the woman said:
“We will go to church to-day and return thanks for the riches that have
come to us so suddenly. And I will give the pastor one of the gold
pieces.”
“It is well enough to go to church,” replied her husband,
“and also to return thanks. But in the night I decided how we will spend
all our money; so there will be none left for the pastor.”
“We can pump more,” said the woman.
“Perhaps; and perhaps not,” he answered, cautiously. “What we
have we can depend upon, but whether or not there be more in the well I cannot
say.”
“Then go and find out,” she returned, “for I am anxious to
give something to the pastor, who is a poor man and deserving.”
So the man got the pump handle from beneath the bed, and, going to the pump,
fitted it in place. Then he set a large wooden bucket under the spout and began
to pump. To their joy the gold pieces soon began flowing into the pail, and,
seeing it about to run over the brim, the woman brought another pail. But now
the stream suddenly stopped, and the man said, cheerfully:
“That is enough for to-day, good wife! We have added greatly to our
treasure, and the parson shall have his gold piece. Indeed, I think I shall
also put a coin into the contribution box.”
Then, because the teapot would hold no more gold, the farmer emptied the pail
into the wood-box, covering the money with dried leaves and twigs, that no one
might suspect what lay underneath.
Afterward they dressed themselves in their best clothing and started for the
church, each taking a bright gold piece from the teapot as a gift to the
pastor.
Over the hill and down into the valley beyond they walked, feeling so gay and
light-hearted that they did not mind the distance at all. At last they came to
the little country church and entered just as the services began.
Being proud of their wealth and of the gifts they had brought for the pastor,
they could scarcely wait for the moment when the deacon passed the contribution
box. But at last the time came, and the farmer held his hand high over the box
and dropped the gold piece so that all the congregation could see what he had
given. The woman did likewise, feeling important and happy at being able to
give the good parson so much.
The parson, watching from the pulpit, saw the gold drop into the box, and could
hardly believe that his eyes did not deceive him. However, when the box was
laid upon his desk there were the two gold pieces, and he was so surprised that
he nearly forgot his sermon.
When the people were leaving the church at the close of the services the good
man stopped the farmer and his wife and asked:
“Where did you get so much gold?”
The woman gladly told him how she had rescued the beetle, and how, in return,
they had been rewarded with the wonderful pump. The pastor listened to it all
gravely, and when the story was finished he said:
“According to tradition strange things happened in this world ages ago,
and now I find that strange things may also happen to-day. For by your tale you
have found a beetle that can speak and also has power to bestow upon you great
wealth.” Then he looked carefully at the gold pieces and continued:
“Either this money is fairy gold or it is genuine metal, stamped at the
mint of the United States government. If it is fairy gold it will disappear
within 24 hours, and will therefore do no one any good. If it is real money,
then your beetle must have robbed some one of the gold and placed it in your
well. For all money belongs to some one, and if you have not earned it
honestly, but have come by it in the mysterious way you mention, it was surely
taken from the persons who owned it, without their consent. Where else could
real money come from?”
The farmer and his wife were confused by this statement and looked guiltily at
each other, for they were honest people and wished to wrong no one.
“Then you think the beetle stole the money?” asked the woman.
“By his magic powers he probably took it from its rightful owners. Even
bugs which can speak have no consciences and cannot tell the difference between
right and wrong. With a desire to reward you for your kindness the beetle took
from its lawful possessors the money you pumped from the well.”
“Perhaps it really is fairy gold,” suggested the man. “If so,
we must go to the town and spend the money before it disappears.”
“That would be wrong,” answered the pastor; “for then the
merchants would have neither money nor goods. To give them fairy gold would be
to rob them.”
“What, then, shall we do?” asked the poor woman, wringing her hands
with grief and disappointment.
“Go home and wait until to-morrow. If the gold is then in your possession
it is real money and not fairy gold. But if it is real money you must try to
restore it to its rightful owners. Take, also, these pieces which you have
given me, for I cannot accept gold that is not honestly come by.”
Sadly the poor people returned to their home, being greatly disturbed by what
they had heard. Another sleepless night was passed, and on Monday morning they
arose at daylight and ran to see if the gold was still visible.
“It is real money, after all!” cried the man; “for not a
single piece has disappeared.”
When the woman went to the brook that day she looked for the beetle, and, sure
enough, there he sat upon the flat stone.
“Are you happy now?” asked the beetle, as the woman paused before
him.
“We are very unhappy,” she answered; “for, although you have
given us much gold, our good parson says it surely belongs to some one else,
and was stolen by you to reward us.”
“Your parson may be a good man,” returned the beetle, with some
indignation, “but he certainly is not overwise. Nevertheless, if you do
not want the gold I can take it from you as easily as I gave it.”
“But we do want it!” cried the woman, fearfully. “That
is,” she added, “if it is honestly come by.”
“It is not stolen,” replied the beetle, sulkily, “and now
belongs to no one but yourselves. When you saved my life I thought how I might
reward you; and, knowing you to be poor, I decided gold would make you happier
than anything else.
“You must know,” he continued, “that although I appear so
small and insignificant, I am really king of all the insects, and my people
obey my slightest wish. Living, as they do, close to the ground, the insects
often come across gold and other pieces of money which have been lost by men
and have fallen into cracks or crevasses or become covered with earth or hidden
by grass or weeds. Whenever my people find money in this way they report the
fact to me; but I have always let it lie, because it could be of no possible
use to an insect.
“However, when I decided to give you gold I knew just where to obtain it
without robbing any of your fellow creatures. Thousands of insects were at once
sent by me in every direction to bring the pieces of lost gold to this hill. It
cost my people several days of hard labor, as you may suppose; but by the time
your husband had finished the well the gold began to arrive from all parts of
the country, and during the night my subjects dumped it all into the well. So
you may use it with a clear conscience, knowing that you wrong no one.”
This explanation delighted the woman, and when she returned to the house and
reported to her husband what the beetle had said he also was overjoyed.
So they at once took a number of the gold pieces and went to the town to
purchase provisions and clothing and many things of which they had long stood
in need; but so proud were they of their newly acquired wealth that they took
no pains to conceal it. They wanted everyone to know they had money, and so it
was no wonder that when some of the wicked men in the village saw the gold they
longed to possess it themselves.
“If they spend this money so freely,” whispered one to another,
“there must be a great store of gold at their home.”
“That is true,” was the answer. “Let us hasten there before
they return and ransack the house.”
So they left the village and hurried away to the farm on the hill, where they
broke down the door and turned everything topsy turvy until they had discovered
the gold in the wood-box and the teapot. It did not take them long to make this
into bundles, which they slung upon their backs and carried off, and it was
probably because they were in a great hurry that they did not stop to put the
house in order again.
Presently the good woman and her husband came up the hill from the village with
their arms full of bundles and followed by a crowd of small boys who had been
hired to help carry the purchases. Then followed others, youngsters and country
louts, attracted by the wealth and prodigality of the pair, who, from simple
curiosity, trailed along behind like the tail of a comet and helped swell the
concourse into a triumphal procession. Last of all came Guggins, the
shopkeeper, carrying with much tenderness a new silk dress which was to be paid
for when they reached the house, all the money they had taken to the village
having been lavishly expended.
The farmer, who had formerly been a modest man, was now so swelled with pride
that he tipped the rim of his hat over his left ear and smoked a big cigar that
was fast making him ill. His wife strutted along beside him like a peacock,
enjoying to the full the homage and respect her wealth had won from those who
formerly deigned not to notice her, and glancing from time to time at the
admiring procession in the rear.
But, alas for their new-born pride! when they reached the farmhouse they found
the door broken in, the furniture strewn in all directions and their treasure
stolen to the very last gold piece.
The crowd grinned and made slighting remarks of a personal nature, and Guggins,
the shopkeeper, demanded in a loud voice the money for the silk dress he had
brought.
Then the woman whispered to her husband to run and pump some more gold while
she kept the crowd quiet, and he obeyed quickly. But after a few moments he
returned with a white face to tell her the pump was dry, and not a gold piece
could now be coaxed from the spout.
The procession marched back to the village laughing and jeering at the farmer
and his wife, who had pretended to be so rich; and some of the boys were
naughty enough to throw stones at the house from the top of the hill. Mr.
Guggins carried away his dress after severely scolding the woman for deceiving
him, and when the couple at last found themselves alone their pride had turned
to humiliation and their joy to bitter grief.
Just before sundown the woman dried her eyes and, having resumed her ordinary
attire, went to the brook for water. When she came to the flat stone she saw
the King Beetle sitting upon it.
“The well is dry!” she cried out, angrily.
“Yes,” answered the beetle, calmly, “you have pumped from it
all the gold my people could find.”
“But we are now ruined,” said the woman, sitting down in the path
beginning to weep; “for robbers have stolen from us every penny we
possessed.”
“I’m sorry,” returned the beetle; “but it is your own
fault. Had you not made so great a show of your wealth no one would have
suspected you possessed a treasure, or thought to rob you. As it is, you have
merely lost the gold which others have lost before you. It will probably be
lost many times more before the world comes to an end.”
“But what are we to do now?” she asked.
“What did you do before I gave you the money?”
“We worked from morning ’til night,” said she.
“Then work still remains for you,” remarked the beetle, composedly;
“no one will ever try to rob you of that, you may be sure!” And he
slid from the stone and disappeared for the last time.
This story should teach us to accept good fortune with humble hearts and to use
it with moderation. For, had the farmer and his wife resisted the temptation to
display their wealth ostentatiously, they might have retained it to this very
day.
