“Mira Circa Nos” by Pope Gregory IX (translated into English)

  

1. How wondrously considerate of us is God’s pity! How priceless a love of charity which would sacrifice a Son to redeem a slave! God neither neglected the gifts of his mercy nor failed to protect uninterruptedly the vineyard planted by his hand. He sent laborers into it at the eleventh hour to cultivate it, and with their hoes and plowshares to uproot the thorns and thistles, as did Samgar when he killed 600 Philistines (Judges 3: 31). After the copious branches were pruned and the sucker roots with the briars were pulled out, this vineyard will produce a luscious, appetizing fruit, one capable of storage in the wine cellar of eternity, once purified in the wine-press of patience. Wickedness had indeed blazed like fire, and the human heart had grown cold, so as to destroy the wall surrounding this vineyard, just as the attacking Philistines were destroyed by the poison of worldly pleasures.

2. Behold how the Lord, when he destroyed the earth by water, saved the just man with a contemptible piece of wood (Wis. 10:4), did not allow the scepter of the ungodly to fall upon the lot of the just (Ps 124:3). Now, at the eleventh hour, he has called forth his servant, Blessed Francis, a man after his own heart (I Sam 13: 14). This man was a light, despised by the rich, nonetheless prepared for the appointed moment. Him the Lord sent into his vineyard to uproot the thorns and thistles. God cast down this lamp before the attacking Philistines, thus illumining his own land and with earnest exhortation warning it to be reconciled with God.

3. On hearing within his soul his friend’s voice of invitation Francis without hesitation arose, and as another Samson strengthened by God’s grace, shattered the fetters of a flattering world. Filled with the zeal of the Spirit and seizing the jawbone of an ass, he conquered not only a thousand, but many thousands of Philistines (Judges 15: 15-16) by his simple preaching, unadorned with the persuasive words of human wisdom (I Cor 1:17), and made forceful by the power of God, who chooses the weak of this world to confound the strong (I Cor 1:17). With the help of God he accomplished this: God who touches mountains and they smoke (Ps 103:32), so bringing to spiritual service those who were once slaves to the allurements of the flesh. For those who died to sin and live only for God and not for themselves (namely, whose worse part has died), there flowed from this jawbone an abundant stream of water: refreshing, cleansing, rendering fruitful the fallen, downtrodden and thirsty. This river of water reaching unto eternal life (Jn 7: 38), might be purchased without silver and without cost (Is 55:1), and like branches far and wide its rivulets watered the vineyard whose branches extended unto the sea and its boughs unto the river (Ps 79:12).

4. After the example of our father Abraham, this man forgot not only his country and acquaintances, but also his father’s house, to go to a land which the Lord had shown him by divine inspiration (Gen 12). Pushing aside any obstacle he pressed on to win the prize of his heavenly call (Phil. 3:14). Conforming himself to Him (Rom 8:29) who, though rich, for our sake became poor (II Cor 8:9), he unburdened himself of a heavy load of material possessions so as to pass easily through the narrow gate (Mt 7:13). He disbursed his wealth to the poor, so that his justice might endure forever (Ps 111:9).

Nearing the land of vision he offered his own body as a holocaust to the Lord upon one of the mountains indicated to him (Gen 22:2), the mountain which is the excellence of faith. His flesh, which now and then had tricked him, he sacrificed as Jephte his only daughter (Judges 11:34), lighting under it the fire of love, punishing it with hunger, thirst, cold, nakedness and with many fasts and vigils. When it had been crucified with its vices and concupiscences (Gal 5:24), he could say with the Apostle: “I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:20). For he really did not live for himself any longer, but rather for Christ, who died for our sins and rose for our justification (Rom 4:25), that we might no longer be slaves to sin (Rom 6:6).

Uprooting his vices and like Jacob arising at the Lord’s command (Gen 35:1-11) he renounced wife and farm and oxen and all which might distract those invited to the great feast (Lk 14:15-20), and took up the battle with the world, the flesh and the spiritual forces of wickedness on high. And as he had received the sevenfold grace of the Spirit and the help of the eight beatitudes of the Gospel, he journeyed to Bethel, the house of God, on a path which he had traced in the fifteen steps of the virtues mystically represented in the psalter (gradual psalms). After he had made of his heart an altar for the Lord, he offered upon it the incense of devout prayers to be taken up to the Lord at the hands of angels whose company he would soon join.

5. But that he might not be the only one to enjoy the blessings of the mountain, clinging exclusively to the embraces of Rachel, as it were to a life of contemplation lovely but sterile, he descended to the forbidden house of Leah to lead into the desert the flock fertile with twins (Cant 4:2) and seeking pastures of life Gen 29). There, where the manna of heavenly sweetness restores all who have been separated from the noisy world, he would be seated with the princes of his people and crowned with the crown of justice. Sowing his seed in tears, he would come back rejoicing carrying his sheaves to the storehouse of eternity (Ps 125:5-6).

Surely he sought not his own interests (Phil 2:21), but those of Christ, serving Him zealously like the proverbial bee. As the morning star in the midst of a cloud, and as the moon at the full (Eccles. 50,6), he took in his hands a lamp with which to draw the humble by the example of his glorious deeds, and a trumpet wherewith to recall the shameless with stern and fearsome warnings from their wicked abandon.

Thus strengthened by charity he courageously took possession of the Midianite camp (Judges 7:16-22), that is, the camp of those who contemptuously disregard the teaching of the Church, with the support of Him who encompassed the whole world by His authority, even while still cloistered in the Virgin’s womb. He captured the weapons on which the well-armed man trusted while guarding his house and parceling out his spoils (Lk 11:21-22), and he led captivity captive in submission to Jesus Christ (Eph 4:8).

6. After defeating the threefold earthly enemy, he did violence to the kingdom of heaven and seized it by force (Mt 11:12). After many glorious battles in this life he triumphed over the world, and he who was knowingly unlettered and wisely foolish, happily returned to the Lord to take the first place before many others more learned.

7. Plainly a life such as his, so holy, so passionate, so brilliant, was enough to win him a place in the Church Triumphant. Yet, because the Church Militant, which can only observe the outer appearances, does not presume to judge on its own authority those not sharing its actual state, it proposes for veneration as Saints only those whose lives on earth merited such, especially because an angel of Satan sometimes transforms himself into an angel of light (II Cor 11:14). In his generosity the omnipotent and merciful God has provided that the aforementioned Servant of Christ did come and serve Him worthily and commendably. Not permitting so great a light to remain hidden under a bushel, but wishing to put it on a lampstand to console those dwelling in the house of light (Mt 5:15), God declared through many brilliant miracles that his life has been acceptable to God and his memory should be honored by the Church Militant.

8. Therefore, since the wondrous events of his glorious life are quite well known to us because of the great familiarity he had with us while we still occupied a lower rank, and since we are fully convinced by reliable witnesses of the many brilliant miracles, we and the flock entrusted to us, by the mercy of God, are confident of being assisted at his intercession and of having in heaven a patron whose friendship we enjoyed on earth. With the consultation and approval of our Brothers, we have decreed that he be enrolled in the catalogue of saints worthy of veneration.

9. We decree that his birth be celebrated worthily and solemnly by the universal Church on the fourth of October, the day on which he entered the kingdom of heaven, freed from the prison of the flesh.

10. Hence, in the Lord we beg, admonish and exhort all of you, we command you by this apostolic letter, that on this day reserved to honor his memory, you dedicate yourselves more intensely to the divine praises, and humbly to implore his patronage, so that through his intercession and merits you might be found worthy of joining his company with the help of Him who is blessed forever. Amen.

 

Given at Perugia, on the fourteenth calends of August, in the second year of our pontificate.

Tuesday's Serial "The Magic Nuts" by Mrs. Molesworth (in English) - III

CHAPTER IV - ON THE WAY

Oh, what is that country,

And where can it be?—Rossetti.

 

If Fraulein heard what Leonore said, she did not seem surprised, for though she did not, of course, know about the little girl's curious dream, she knew that Hildegarde's coming had been freely talked about the evening before. But she was very astonished a moment later when Hildegarde, looking up quietly, said with a smile—

'I have come to meet you. I was sure I should.'

'My dear child!' exclaimed Fraulein. 'How could you know? The fairies must have told you!'

The little stranger smiled again.

'This is Leonore,' she said, taking the other child's hand. 'Grandmamma told me her name, but grandmamma did not know I should meet you'; and she shook her head with a funny little air of mystery.

'It is wonderful,' said Fraulein; 'it is even wonderful that you should know me again. It is five years—five years—since you saw me last—half your life.'

'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'but I can remember longer ago than that.'

She was still holding Leonore's hand, and though the little English girl felt rather shy, and had not yet spoken to her new friend, yet she liked the touch of the gentle fingers and pressed them in return, while she looked at Hildegarde's pretty fair face in admiration.

'I am coming soon to see Aunt Anna,' Hildegarde went on. 'Will you give her my love, Fraulein Elsa, and tell her so? May I come this afternoon?'

'Certainly, certainly,' said Fraulein; 'the sooner you and Leonore make friends, the better pleased we shall all be.'

At this Leonore took courage.

'Yes,' she said, looking earnestly at Hildegarde with her serious dark eyes. 'I want very much to be friends.'

'It will not take long,' said Hildegarde, and then, for the first time, Leonore noticed that the little girl's eyes were not like any she had ever seen before.[Pg 51] They were not blue, as one would have expected from her light, almost flaxen hair and fair complexion, but a kind of bright hazel-brown—with lovely flashes, almost, as it were, of sunshine, coming and going.

'They are golden eyes,' thought Leonore; and when she repeated this to Fraulein afterwards, her governess agreed with her that she was right.

'I remember noticing their colour when she was a very tiny child,' said Fraulein, thinking to herself that the two little girls made a pretty contrast, for Leonore's hair was dark, as well as her eyes.

Hildegarde held up her face for Fraulein to kiss, and then she ran off again, saying as she did so—

'Do not forget to tell Aunt Anna I am coming, and perhaps she will make some of those dear little round cakes I love so—she knows which they are. Leonore will like them too, I am sure.'

The day was getting on by this time; it was past noon.

'We will just stroll to the other end of the village,' said Fraulein; 'from there we shall have the side view of the Castle—there is a short cut down to the street at that end, by some steps, but they are rough and in need of repair, so we generally[Pg 52] prefer the longer way. The old Baron has spoken of shutting off the side entrance; he says it is only fit for goats to scramble up.'

Leonore thought, though she did not say so, that it would be very amusing for little girls all the same, and determined to ask Hildegarde about it. She thought the Castle even more interesting seen sideways than in front; it looked so very close to the thick dark trees behind, almost as if it touched them.

'I shall have lots of things to talk to Hildegarde about,' she said to herself. 'These woods are very fairy-looking. And I think I must tell her my strange dream about her and the nuts. I don't think she would laugh at it. I hope I have them quite safe.'

Yes, they lay snugly in her pocket, wrapped up in the piece of paper—a nice piece of pink paper that she had found among her things.

'I will leave them where they are,' she thought, 'and then I shall be sure to remember to tell Hildegarde my dream.'

It was nearly dinner-time when they got back to Aunt Anna's, for in that part of the world big people as well as little dine in the middle of the day.[Pg 53] Aunt Anna was most interested in hearing of Hildegarde's arrival, and quite as delighted as Fraulein had been.

'And was it not strange that she should have come to meet us?' said Fraulein. 'She must have had a presentiment about it.'

'What is a presentiment?' asked Leonore.

'A sort of knowing beforehand about something that is going to happen,' answered Fraulein. 'Many people have the feeling, but very often it does not come true, and then it is not a real presentiment. It is not everybody that has real presentiments.'

Aunt Anna smiled. Leonore was learning to love her smiles. They reminded her of some other smile—whose was it? Hildegarde's?—yes, a little, perhaps, but no, she had seen Hildegarde for the first time that morning, and this feeling about Aunt Anna's smile had come to her already yesterday. Whose smile could it be?

'Hildegarde is a dear child,' said Aunt Anna, 'and perhaps she is one of the few who know more than the everyday people. And she was born at the Castle and spent her babyhood there. How well I remember the day she was christened!'

'Oh, do tell me,' exclaimed Leonore impulsively. 'Did they have a grand feast, and did they invite any fairies? Perhaps she had a fairy godmother.'

'Leonore!' said Fraulein, beginning to laugh. 'You are getting too fanciful—you really——'

'Nay, Elsa,' interrupted Aunt Anna. 'Let the child say out what is in her mind, and remember, we are here in our dear country, close on the borders of Fairyland——'

'Yes, Fraulein,' Leonore interrupted in her turn. 'You said so yourself.'

'And assuredly,' Aunt Anna went on, 'if Hildegarde has a fairy godmother, she has given her none but good gifts.'

'You speak as if such things were possible, my dear aunt,' said Fraulein. 'We must not let Leonore grow too fanciful. I shall have you and her taking flight in an airy chariot drawn by white swans or something of that kind some fine day, if I don't take care.'

'Well, you and Hildegarde can come after us in another chariot if we do,' said Aunt Anna, laughing.

But Leonore remained serious.

'Please tell me, Aunt Anna,' she said, 'as you were at Hildegarde's christening, was there any one there who might have been a fairy?'

Aunt Anna hesitated.

'There was an odd story,' she replied, 'about a beautiful lady who was met coming away from the nursery, when the baby had been left alone in her cot for a moment or two. And when the nurse went back she found her smiling and crowing and chuckling to herself as if she were six months instead of only a few days old, and in her little hand she was tightly clasping——'

'What?' asked Leonore breathlessly.

'Three nuts,' replied Aunt Anna impressively. 'Three common little brown hazel-nuts. That part of the story is true, for Hildegarde has the nuts to this day, I believe—at least she had them the last time she was here.'

'She must have picked them up somehow,' said Fraulein.

Aunt Anna shook her head.

'A baby of a few days old cannot pick things up,' she said. 'No, it has never been explained. None of the servants had put them into her hand—indeed they would not have been so foolish, and they could scarcely have had the chance of doing so. And it was said by the one or two who declared they had met her, that the beautiful lady was carrying a basket on her arm filled with common hazel-nuts, and some days afterwards one of the foresters said that late that same evening a little old woman whom he had never seen before stopped him up in the high woods to ask the way to some strange place of which he had never heard, and she—the little old woman—was carrying a basket of nuts. She offered him some, but he thought she was a witch and would not have any.'

'Dear me, Aunt Anna,' exclaimed her niece, 'I did not know all these wonderful tales. Surely they grew out of finding the nuts in the baby's hands. I do remember hearing that, though I had forgotten it.'

'Perhaps that was the origin of it all,' said her aunt quietly. 'Still, Hildegarde is an uncommon child. It certainly seems as if she had received some fairy gifts, however they came to her.'

Leonore did not speak, but she listened intently. She would probably have not contented herself with listening but for knowing that she was so soon to see Hildegarde herself again.

'She will be the best person to ask,' thought Leonore. 'I will tell her about my nuts and the little old woman who gave me them, and about the pretty laugh I heard in the wood, and then, I feel sure, she will tell me all she knows.'

She could scarcely finish her dinner, so eager and excited did she feel. And she was more than delighted when, at the close of the meal, kind Fraulein proposed to her that, as Hildegarde had come to meet them that morning, Leonore should show her new little friend the same attention.

'You can scarcely miss her,' she said. 'She is sure to come the same way that I took you this morning. If you get ready now, and start in a quarter of an hour or so, you will be about right, I should say. They dine early at the Castle. But I should like you to change your dress in case you should be presented to the Baroness—Hildegarde's grandmamma.'

Leonore ran off to get ready. She was not long about it, but all the same her new little friend must have been even quicker, for Leonore met her a very few steps only from Aunt Anna's gate. Hildegarde's face lighted up with a smile when she caught sight of the other little girl.

'So you have come to meet me,' she said; 'that is very nice of you. I hope I have not come too soon. Shall I go in now to see Aunt Anna?'

Leonore looked a little disappointed, which Hildegarde seemed at once to understand.

'I don't mean to stay with Aunt Anna,' she added quickly; 'what I want is for you and me to go out somewhere together. It is a lovely day, and I have leave to stay out till dusk. My grandmamma is going to pay some visits, so she hopes to see you some other day—perhaps to-morrow. I think we shall get to know each other far the best by being alone by ourselves—don't you think so?'

'Yes, certainly,' said Leonore, her face clearing. 'I am so glad you understand. I have such a lot of things to talk to you about.'

Hildegarde nodded her head. It was a little habit of hers to do so without speaking sometimes.

'Then we must not lose any of our time,' she said, after a moment's pause. 'But first I will run in to give Aunt Anna a kiss, and then we can go off somewhere together.'

Aunt Anna's face was full of pleasure at the sight of her little friend—the two were evidently old acquaintances.

'How well you are looking, my child,' she said, 'and how much you have grown! Let me see, which is the taller, you or our little Leonore,' and she drew the two children together. 'There is not a quarter of an inch between you,' she exclaimed. 'If you were ponies you would be a perfect match—one dark and one fair,' she added musingly. 'Yes, my dears, you are evidently intended to be friends.'

'And that is just what we mean to be,' said Hildegarde. 'May we go now, Aunt Anna? You will not be anxious even if Leonore does not come home till dark?'

'Oh no,' said the old lady tranquilly, 'I know you are as safe as you can be—you are going to the woods, I suppose?'

'I think so,' Hildegarde replied.

As soon as they found themselves out of doors again, she took Leonore's hand.

'Let us run quickly through the village,' she said, 'and then when we get inside the Castle grounds we can go slowly and talk as we go. Or perhaps we can sit down—it is so mild, and there are lots of cosy places among the trees.'

Leonore was quite pleased to do as Hildegarde proposed; indeed she had a curious feeling that whatever her new little friend wished she would like. She did not speak much, for it seemed to her as if she were meant in the first place to listen.

The woods were very lovely that afternoon. Hildegarde led the way round the Castle without approaching it quite closely, till they stood in a little clearing, from which they looked upwards into the rows of pine-trees, through which here and there the afternoon sunshine made streaks of light and brightness.

'Isn't it pretty here?' said Hildegarde. 'Hush—there's a squirrel—there are lots about here; they are so tame they like to be near the house, I think. Shall we sit down? It is quite dry.'

Leonore was not troubled with any fears of catching cold—and indeed the day was as mild as summer.

'Yes,' she said, 'it is a very pretty place. I have never seen such big woods before.'

'They go on for miles and miles—up ever so far,' said Hildegarde, 'though here and there the ground is quite flat for a bit. And over there,' she pointed to the left, 'they are not pine woods, but all sorts of other trees. I don't know which I like best.'

'Pine woods I should say,' Leonore replied. 'Perhaps because I have never seen such beautiful high fir-trees before. And the way the sun peeps through them is so pretty.'

As she spoke, half unconsciously her hand strayed to her jacket pocket. There lay safely the little packet containing the three nuts.

'Hildegarde,' she said, 'I heard the story about you when you were a baby, and what they found in your hand. And—it is very odd—do you know—no, of course you couldn't—but just fancy, I have three nuts too!'

Hildegarde nodded her head.

'I did know,' she said, smiling. 'And—look here.'

From the front of her frock she drew out a little green silk bag drawn in at the top with tiny white ribbon. She opened it carefully, and took out something which she held towards Leonore—on her pretty pink palm lay three nuts, common little brown nuts, just like Leonore's. And Leonore unwrapped her own packet and in the same way held out its contents.

'Yes,' said Hildegarde, 'it is all right. I knew you had them.'

Leonore stared at her in astonishment.

'How could you know?' she exclaimed.

'I suppose people would say I dreamt it,' Hildegarde replied, 'but I don't call it dreaming. I have always known things like that since I was a baby. And I knew that some day I should have a friend like you, and that together we should have lovely adventures, and now it is going to come true.'

Leonore grew rosy red with excitement.

'Do you mean,' she began, 'Hildegarde, can you mean that perhaps we are going to find the way to Fairyland? I have been thinking about it ever since I can remember anything.'

Hildegarde nodded.

'Yes,' she said, 'I am sure you have. But I don't quite know about Fairyland itself. I am not sure if any one ever gets quite there—into the very insidest part, you know. I almost think we should have to be turned into fairies for that, and then we never could be little girls again, you see. But I am sure we are going to see some wonderful things—there are the outside parts of Fairyland, you know.'

'Fraulein says all this country is on the borders of Fairyland,' said Leonore.

'Well, so it is, I daresay, for fairies do come about here sometimes. You've heard the story of the one that came to my christening feast?'

'Yes,' said Leonore, 'and I am beginning to think that I have seen her too,' and she went on to tell Hildegarde about the little old dame in the market-place at Alt who had given her the nuts, and about the mischievous laugh she had heard in the wood on the way to Dorf, and all her own thoughts and fancies, including her dream of Hildegarde herself.

Hildegarde listened attentively.

'I feel sure you are right,' she said, 'and that the dame was my own fairy, as I call her. And I believe the laugh you heard in the wood was when you were hoping you hadn't lost the last three nuts. I don't believe you could have lost them; if you had thrown them away they would have come back to you. Just think how my three have always been kept safe, even though I was only a tiny baby when they were put into my hand.'

Both little girls sat silent for a moment or two, gazing at the six brown nuts.

'And what do you think we are meant to do now?' asked Leonore at last.

'To do,' repeated Hildegarde in some surprise; 'why, of course it's quite plain—to crack the nuts! Not all of them at once—one, or perhaps two—one of yours and one of mine, I daresay.'

'Oh,' exclaimed Leonore, 'do you really think we should? How I wonder what we shall find! Just supposing there is nothing but a kernel inside.'

'There's no good in supposing it,' said Hildegarde; 'we shall soon see. As I have had the nuts the longest perhaps it's meant for me to crack one first—so——'

She put the nut between her teeth. Of course if it had been a common nut this would not have been a sensible thing to do, as she would probably have broken her teeth and not cracked the nut, but Hildegarde knew what she was about. The nut gave way with a touch, and in another moment the little girl had broken off enough of the shell to see what was inside, Leonore bending over her in breathless eagerness.

Monday's Illustrated Word: " The Case of the Screaming Corpse" by unknown writer (in English)

art by Al Bryant - National Comics #28 - Quality, January 1943.

 

 

Good Reading: "The Journeyman" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

There once was a butcher's widow with an only son. He had already begun to learn his father's trade when the butcher died. His mother let him finish his apprenticeship and said, "Now you are fully educated in your father's craft, but not yet a master butcher: First you are to go on a three-year working trip. After your journeyman years you may be admitted to a guild as a master. So 'first an apprentice, then a journeyman, and at last a master' - that is how your father became a butcher. And now the time has come for you to go travelling! Good luck!"

The son was to travel for three years and see the world and maybe find someone to teach him more he could use. The mother fitted out her son as well as she could and gave him her best dog, Grip, to go with him.

On his way the journeyman came to a large and dense forest. Robbers lived there. They fell on him to rob and even kill him, but the young man defended himself vigorously, and his dog stood by him bravely and wounded many of the robbers with angry bites until one of the robbers got so angry that he shot the faithful dog.

The journeyman escaped from the robbers and ran deeper into the large forest. There he got lost and did not know where he was. At last he saw a small house ahead of him. He hurried to it, knocked on the door, and went in. An old, grey woman was sitting there. She did not move a bit when he came in. All the same the young man began to tell her all that had happened to him and asked her to show him the way out of this forest. He loudly bewailed the loss of his dog Grip too.

Then said the old grey woman, " I too have good dogs too. You may pick one and take it with you." She shouted, "Rend-and-tear!"

A big dog came into the house at her call. The old woman asked: "Do you like this dog?"

"The dog looks good," said the fellow, "but mine was better."

Then the old woman called again, "Break-all-ties!" A bigger and better dog came in, and the old woman asked, "How do you like this one?"

"I like him quite well," answered the journeyman, "but still I liked my own dog better."

Then the old woman called again, "Fast-and-swift!" and in jumped a very big, bold and shapely dog. The journeyman did not wait for the old woman to ask him how he liked the dog, but exclaimed straight away, "I like this one! My own dog looked so like it that unless it had been shot dead in front of me I could have said it was the same dog!"

"Well," said the old woman, "I will give you all the three dogs if you will remember me when things go well with you, and if you will not be ashamed of me in my poverty then."

The lad promised this, and the old woman took out a little whistle and gave it to him, saying, "When you blow this whistle you call the three dogs to your aid at any time, from wherever they happen to be at the time. That can be useful if you get into trouble."

With many thanks the journeyman took leave of the good old woman and walked merrily along a path she had told him of. The three dogs rushed and leaped about, now behind him and now ahead of him, playing with each other. The young man amused himself over them.

As the evening began to get dark, the traveller and his dogs came to a soliary inn in the same wide forest. Outside the house a young maid was scrubbing wooden dishes. When she saw him she looked frightened and waved him away as if to warn him against entering the inn. She opened her mouth to say something too, but just then the door opened and the landlord came out and invited the guest and his dogs inside. After some talk he told he was a butcher, he too.

The young man was reluctant, for he felt suspicious even though he could not say why. But hungry and thirsty as he was, with the night coming on, he sat down in the living-room with his three dogs around him, and ordered something to eat. He did not have to wait long for a large piece of meat in a rich broth, and good bread with it.

The journeyman had his meal while the landlord was sitting on an bench in front of the oven and ensured that the meal tasted his only guest well, for there were no one else in the house that the journeyman could see, and there was time for that.

The door opened, and the landlady came in with a plate with three pieces of bread soaked in fat. The landlady came up to the journeyman, and he thanked her politely for the food.

"Now show him his bedroom!" said the landlady to her husband, and gave her husband a light to carry in the hand. The host opened the door to a room next to the sitting-room and walked ahead of the others, carrying the light. The landlady came last. She was still carrying the three fat breads, and threw one bread to the dogs behind her. One of the dogs grabbed it, but while he ate it the woman slammed the door and the dog was locked in.

They came into a room that was full of weapons, rifles, pistols, carbines, broadswords, cutlasses, etc., besides also chains, ropes, handcuffs and such things hung over, thus making the people defenseless.

"There are many weapons," said the surprised guest.

"Yes, for one has to be on guard and prepared for much in this solitary spot in the forest. I have people who know how to use these weapons."

The host opened a second door while he talked, and walked into another room. Behind the guest the landlady threw another bread on the floor. Another dog started to eat it, but meanwhile the woman slammed the door behind her, and the dog was locked up in the armory.

The young guest did not notice what happened, for he was already in the the other room, and saw there were barrels of money there, and on the walls hang costly garments and in glass cabinets he glimpsed jewelry, gold, silver gemstones. "How can all these things be in a solitary forest inn?" the journeyman started to wonder.

The host now opened up a third room, and when he and the journeyman went in there, the landlady threw the third fat bread on the floor in the room they had left, and when the third dog at it, she hurried and locked the door. Thus the second dog was trapped in the treasury, and his master did not know it, for he was curious to see what the hosts had in the third room, but that room did not appeal very much to him.. The walls were stained with blood, and on the floor were dead, mangled people lying around.

The innkeeper said harshly. "Here is the workshop I run. Stay with me, or you will be slaughtered like the others here."

The journeyman took courage and said, "I would rather die than be such a butcher!"

"It's up to you!" said the landlord.

The fellow was troubled and scared, and looked around for his three dogs, but saw none of them. He was alone and helpless.

His host picked up a heavy axe.

The workman said, "Let me say a little prayer."

"All right!" said the host.

The journeyman started to pray, but while he did so, he happened to touch the whistle he had got, and whistled boldly for the three dogs.

The host and hostess were grealy astonished. "Is this a way to pray, lad?" cried the host angriy, but before he could strike with the axe the three dogs came running through the closed door and tore him to pieces.

"Well done!" said the journeyman to them.

The landlady fell on her knees and cried, "Praise God! Now I am saved!" "No, you are not," shouted the journeyman angrily. "You have been in on this!"

"O, mercy!" cried the landlady. "I was forced to do as the butcher wanted. He once caught me and has kept me here since. If you let me live I will give you a snuff box of gold."

"I do not take snuff!" said the journeyman.

"You do not have to either," said the landlady. "But if anyone takes snuff out of this box and you rotate the cover to the right, she or he cannot but stand, lie or sit without moving till you turn the cover to the left again. Let me live, for you are still not out of danger. I am the only one who know where my husband's cronies are. It is a whole gang of robbers and murderers."

"Well, tell me and I will let you live," said the youth.

The landlady and her servants thanked him for freeing them from the horrible butche and showed the journeyman the entrance to the secret hideout of the gang of murderers. The journeyman let his three dogs in, and after a while they came out again and there were no robbers left.

The young butcher now gave some of the treasures to the the formerly enslaved servants, especially the good-natured girl who tried to warn him when he first came to the inn. He also sent a man with a load of treasures to the old, grey woman who had given him her three dogs and the whistle; another load to his mother at home; and then he went on his way with the three dogs: Although he had riches enough now, he had promised his mother to walk about for three years, see the world, and maybe learn how to be a better butcher too.

One day the journeyman met a carriage that was all black, the coachman was in black and the horses too. The journeyman stopped, and suddenly the carriage stopped too, and a princess dressed in black came out of the carriage. She said, "My father has promised me to a devil. He has brought famine on the country, and will end it only if I marry him. My father was forced to agree to this. Since then, all my servants have deserted me. What is more, I fear the coachman is in leage with the devil."

The journeyman said, "If so, allow me to go with you as your servant! I hope to be able to save you from that devil."

The princess was glad that the youth would stay with her, and accepted his offer. The journeyman climbed into the carriage. After some time they came to a tree stump where an ugly fellow was sitting. It was the devil, and he had been waiting there a long time. It surprised him that the princess did not come alone. The young man went up to the devil and explained that he was the servant of the princess, and offered the devil a pinch of snuff from his golden box. The devil put his fingers into the box and took a large pinch.

"There," said the journeyman and pulled the lid of his golden snuff-box to the right and snapped his fingers. "You are now stuck fast as long as I like."

"You fool!" cried the devil and wanted to jump up. But he was powerless and had to sit there as if glued to the stub.

"How long is this going to last?" asked the devil and was furious.

The journeyman answered, "It will help you if you freely give me this princess, renounce any rights to her, to our souls, and vow never again to cause inconveniences, troubles and famines in this land. It must all be put in writing and signed by you. After that I will not see you again."

The devil groaned and screeched, sweated and writhed, but it did not help him at all. At last he agreeed to the deal and signed. The young man stepped back a bit, and then turned the lid of the snuff-box to the left. In a thrice the devil flew into the air and flew away like a roaring storm.

The princess and the journeyman got back into her carriage, and the princess was so grateful that she said, "I want to marry you for saving me!"

"Yes, yes," answered the young man, "but I want to wait a while, for I have to wander in the world and learn something useful first. I promised my mother to do it. But in a few years I will be back, if you want me to."

The princess reluctantly had to make do with that. Soon they were on their way back toward her father's castle.

When they came to a crossroads, the journeyman left the carriage, kissed her hand and said, "We are engaged to be married! Trust your bridegroom-to-be!"

The coachman had heard everything. He was a bad fellow and wanted to become the new king himself. After a little stopped the carriage and said to the princess, "I want to marry too! Marry you! So tell your father at home that I was the one who saved you, and marry me! If you do not say yes, I will not drive you home, but to the devil."

The princess sobbed and wept, but finally gave in. Then she was taken home. People rejoiced when she returned and thought the coachman had saved her and that she now would marry him out of gratitude. But the princess regularly postponed the marriage. One time she ruined her wedding dresses, another time she fell ill, a third times he had religious vows to fulfil, a fourth time she was waiting for jewelry to be sent her - and all the while she was hoping her true bridegroom would come.

The coachman, however, grew more and more impatient, and at long last a wedding-day was set. The princess sighed and wept much the night before the wedding-day, for she did not know that her true bridegroom at last had come with his three dogs. He stayed at an inn where the host at first would not welcome him, for he looked like a vagabond. But when the journeyman gave him a gold piece, he was - eh - good enough.

Soon a barber and a tailor were called for. The stranger shaved himself clean and was carefully groomed and dressed up in neat, warm, good clothes. He sat down and wrote a letter to the princess, sealed it and let his faithful dog Fast-and-swift take it to the princess. The dog speeded off and dropped the letter in the lap of the princess as she was sitting by the table, eating. The others in the room were scared of the large dog, but the princess recognised him, and so did the false bridegroom. He thought, "If that dog is here, the owner is near." Then he quietly left the castle, the city and the country, for he thought it was best for him.

The next morning a royal carriage stopped outside the inn. The princess had sent a servant to say she would be happy to meet her real bridegroom. The stranger was carried to the castle in the carriage, with his three dogs running beside it.

As soon as the princess told the king who had saved her, and who had threatened to take her to the devil again, he liked the real bridgegroom better than the false one. The wedding was stately, and the bride and bridegroom were happy.

Soon after the bridegroom sent a carriage filled with gold to the old woman in the forest, and sent for his old mother to come and live with him.

Friday's Sung word: "Quem Ri Melhor" by Noel Rosa (in Portuguese)

Pobre de quem já sofreu nesse mundo
A dor de um amor profundo
Eu vivo bem sem amar a ninguém
Ser infeliz é sofrer por alguém
Zombo de quem sofre assim
Quem me fez chorar
Hoje chora por mim
Quem ri melhor é quem ri no fim

Felicidade é o vil metal quem dá
Honestidade ninguém sabe aonde está
Acaba mal quem é ruim
Pois quem me fez chorar hoje chora por mim
Quem ri melhor é quem ri no fim

Sabendo disso eu não quero rir primeiro
Pois o feitiço vira contra o feiticeiro
Eu vivo bem pensando assim
Pois quem me fez chorar hoje chora por mim
Quem ri melhor é quem ri no fim

 

You can listen "Quem Ri Melhor" sung by Noel Rosa and Marília Batista with Os Reis do Ritmo band here.