th money.

Now the king of this city was a cruel man, and he sent for the children
and told them that they must give up their money, their rice and all
to him and be poor again. "O dear king," said the oldest child, "will
you not leave us a little for our living?" "No," replied the king,
"I will give you as much boiled rice as you need, and you ought to
be glad that you get it."

So the king sent ten soldiers to move the rice and the money, but,
as soon as they got it to the king's house, it returned to the
children. The soldiers worked a whole week without getting a grain
of rice or a piece of money to stay in the king's house. Then because
they were about to die from fatigue, the king sent ten more, and these
too failed. Then the king went himself, but when he tried to move
the money he fell down dead. The children, relieved from persecution,
lived long and happy lives and were always rich and influential people.

CHAPTER 14

The Silent Lover.

A long time ago, when the world was young, there lived a very bashful
young man. Not far from his house there lived the most beautiful young
woman in the world. The young woman had many suitors but rejected all,
wishing only for the love of the bashful young man. He in his turn
was accustomed to follow her about, longing for courage to declare his
love, but bashfulness always sealed his lips. At last, despairing of
ever making his unruly tongue tell of his passion, he took a dagger
and, following her to the bathing place on the river bank, he cut
out his own heart, cast it at her feet, and fell down lifeless. The
girl fled, terrified, and a crow pounced upon the heart, and carried
it to a hollow dao-tree, when it fell from his beak into the hollow
and there remained. But the love for the girl was so strong in the
heart that it became reanimated and clothed again with humanity in the
form of a little child. A hunter, pursuing the wild boar with dogs,
found the child crying from hunger at the foot of the dao-tree and,
being childless, took it home, and he and his old wife cared for it
as their own. The young woman, knowing now the love of the young man,
lived for his memory's sake, a widow, rejecting all suitors.

But from the child was never absent the image of his loved one, and at
last his love so wrought on his weak frame that he sickened. Knowing
that his end was near, he begged of his foster mother that, after his
death, she should leave him, and not be surprised i