THE PAPER BAG
There were once two brothers, the elder of whom, named Musai, was honest and kind, but poor. He was just the opposite of his younger brother, called Chô, who was cruel, stingy, dishonest and rich.
Musai was in need of seed-rice and silkworms' eggs. The past season had been an unfortunate one for him, and it was necessary for him to have these. Knowing that his brother had an abundance of good rice-seed and splendid eggs, he begged him to lend him some.
Now, Chô hated to lend anyone anything, but he didn't see how he could very well refuse his brother's request, so he picked out some musty rice-seed and dead eggs, and gave them to him, feeling sure that they were worthless.
Musai thanked him for his kindness, and took them home. He put plenty of mulberry leaves with the eggs, so that the silkworms should have plenty of food when they should arrive. And strange to say the worms came, and throve splendidly, much to Chô's disappointment, because he was too mean to wish good-fortune to visit anyone but himself.
He took it as a personal insult that the dead eggs he had let his brother have should hatch so well, so one day, when Musai was out, he went to his home, and cut every silkworm in two.
When Musai returned, he was filled with dismay on seeing all of his silkworms killed, but he didn't think of suspecting his own brother. He had placed a good supply of mulberry leaves for them only the day before, and each piece of worm came to life, and throve.
Now he had twice as many silkworms as before, and they spun double the amount of silk that he had expected; so his brother Chô had really done him a good turn when he tried to ruin him.
Musai began to prosper, much to the disgust of Chô, who proceeded to cut all of his own silkworms in half, thinking that of course the same good fortune would be his. But instead of coming to life again the worms died, which meant the loss of much money for him. This made him very jealous of his brother.
The musty rice-seed which he had given his brother, and which Musai had planted, also turned out well, for it flourished better than any of his own had done. This only added to his jealousy.
The time to cut and harvest the rice approached, when clouds of birds came and devoured it. Musai hastened to drive them away, and this he did again and again, but each time they returned.
Chasing them away was very tiring work, so he finally pursued them to a distant field, and then they disappeared. Here he lay down to rest, and soon fell asleep.
There came to him a dream in which he was surrounded by a band of merry children. They danced and sang and played games.
In the last of these the eldest of the children lifted up a stone which lay near Musai's head and from beneath it drew a paper bag. With this in his hand he went to the center of the ring, and asked each child in turn, "What would you like to have out of the bag?"
One child answered, "A kite." The bag was shaken, and out came a beautiful kite, string, tail and all. The next one said she would like a doll. The bag was again shaken and there was one, beautifully dressed, ready for her to hold in her arms.
Each child in turn was asked what he or she desired, and the bag granted every wish. At last they went home, but before leaving the field the boy who had taken the magic bag from beneath the stone carefully replaced it.
Soon Musai awoke, and so clear was the dream to him that he turned around to look for the stone, and there it was, close by his head. "How very strange," he thought. Then, without really expecting to find anything, he raised the stone, and underneath it was the paper bag.
Holding this carefully in his hand, he returned to his home, and there he did as he had seen the children do in his dream. He called out "Gold," or "Silver," or whatever he thought of, shook the bag, and out came that which he had named.
Musai now became rich and prosperous. He told his brother how this good fortune had come to him in a dream, and this made Chô more jealous of him than before.
Chô made up his mind to get another such paper bag for himself, so he took some of Musai's rice-seed, planted it, and waited impatiently for it to grow.
In due time it ripened, and now he waited for the birds to come and eat the rice. To his delight they came, and he lost no time in driving them away, pursuing them to the field where Musai had slept and dreamed.
He lay down, intending to follow his brother's example, but found that he could not go to sleep, try as hard as he might. He had not been there long before a group of children came to the field and began to play and enjoy themselves. After a while they all sat down in a ring, and Chô, who pretended to be asleep, watched carefully out of one half-opened eye to see what they would do next.
He saw the eldest one come to the stone close to his head and lift it up, but there was no paper bag beneath it.
The boy was surprised, and said: "I believe this lazy old farmer has taken our bag," and then he seized Chô's nose, and gave it a good pull.
Chô then jumped up, and the boy repeated what he had said. The children wouldn't believe him when he declared that he had touched neither the stone nor the bag, and they shouted and jeered at him.
But this was not the hardest thing that happened to him; for his nose, which the boy had pulled, began to grow. Larger and larger it became, until at last it reached the ground.
In his anger he struck right and left at the children, and ran from the field, holding his nose from the ground as well as he could.
He went to his brother's house and told him what had occurred. Then a change came over him, and he felt ashamed of himself. He remembered how jealous he had been of Musai, and how he had tried to ruin him by killing his silkworms. He was humble, confessed everything, and asked his brother to forgive him.
Musai spoke kindly to him, and said that this punishment had come to him on account of his envy and jealousy, which bring happiness to no one.
Then he took the paper bag, and gently rubbed Chô's nose with it. Gradually this became shorter and shorter, until at last it resumed its former shape.
This was a lesson that Chô was not allowed to forget, because whenever after this he attempted to do anything mean or dishonest, his nose would become sore, and in his terror lest it should grow again, he trained himself to live as a kindly, well-disposed man should do.