Prevod
Pred ne prav mnogo leti sta na kamniti, nerodovitni kmetiji v Novi Angliji živela mož in žena. Bila sta trezna, poštena človeka in sta od zgodnjega jutra do mraka trdo delala, da bi si na svoji borni zemlji prislužila skromno preživetje.
Njuna hiša, majhna pritlična stavba, je stala na pobočju strmega hriba, okoli nje pa je bilo toliko kamenja, da je iz zemlje komajda lahko pognalo kaj zelenega. Ob vznožju hriba, dobre četrt milje od hiše po vijugasti stezi, je tekel potoček in žena je morala hoditi tja po vodo ter jo nositi po hribu navzgor do hiše. To je bilo naporno opravilo in skupaj z drugim težaškim delom, ki ji je pripadlo, jo je naredilo koščeno, sključeno in shujšano.
Vendar se ni nikoli pritoževala, temveč je krotko in vestno opravljala svoje dolžnosti: skrbela je za hišo, nosila vodo in pomagala možu okopavati borni pridelek, ki je rasel na najboljšem delu njune zemlje.
Nekega dne, ko je šla po stezi navzdol proti potoku in z velikimi čevlji razmetavala kamenčke na vse strani, je opazila velikega hrošča, ki je ležal na hrbtu in si z nožicami na vso moč prizadeval obrniti se, da bi se spet postavil na noge. A nikakor mu ni uspelo; zato se je žena, ki je imela dobro srce, sklonila in ga s prstom nežno obrnila. Hrošč je nemudoma odhitel s steze, ona pa je nadaljevala pot do potoka.
Naslednji dan, ko je spet prišla po vodo, je presenečena zagledala hrošča, ki je znova ležal na hrbtu in se nemočno trudil obrniti. Žena se je še enkrat ustavila in ga postavila na noge; ko se je sklanjala nad drobnim bitjem, pa je zaslišala glasek:
»Oh, hvala! Najlepša hvala, ker ste me rešili!« Ko je slišala hrošča govoriti v svojem jeziku, se je precej prestrašila, odskočila in vzkliknila:
»Za božjo voljo! Saj vendar ne moreš govoriti kakor ljudje!« Potem se je pomirila in se spet sklonila nad hrošča, ta pa ji je odgovoril: »Zakaj ne bi govoril, če imam kaj povedati?
»Ker si žužek,« je odvrnila žena. »To je res; in rešili ste mi življenje — rešili ste me pred mojimi sovražniki, vrabci. Že drugič ste mi priskočili na pomoč, zato sem vam dolžan hvaležnost. Žužki cenimo svoje življenje prav toliko kakor ljudje, jaz pa sem pomembnejše bitje, kot si v svoji nevednosti morda predstavljate. Toda povejte mi, zakaj vsak dan prihajate k potoku?«
»Po vodo,« je odgovorila in topoumno strmela v govorečega hrošča. »Ali ni to težko delo?« je vprašalo bitje. »Je; ampak na hribu ni vode,« je rekla.
»Potem izkopljite vodnjak in vanj namestite črpalko,« je odvrnil hrošč. Odkimala je. »Moj mož je enkrat že poskusil, pa ni bilo vode,« je žalostno rekla.
»Poskusite še enkrat,« je ukazal hrošč, »in v zameno za vašo dobroto vam obljubim tole: če iz vodnjaka ne boste dobili vode, boste dobili nekaj, kar vam je še dragocenejše. Zdaj moram iti. Ne pozabite. Izkopljite vodnjak.«
Nato je, ne da bi se ustavil in poslovil, naglo odhitel in izginil med kamenjem. Žena se je vrnila v hišo, vsa zbegana zaradi hroščevih besed, in ko se je mož vrnil z dela, mu je povedala vso zgodbo.
Siromak je nekaj časa globoko premišljeval, nato pa izjavil: »Žena, v tem, kar ti je povedal žužek, utegne biti kaj resnice. Če lahko hrošč govori, mora biti na svetu še vedno čarovnija; in če čarovnija obstaja, bova morda iz vodnjaka dobila vodo. Črpalka, ki sem jo kupil za vodnjak, ki se je izkazal za suhega, zdaj leži v skednju, in če bova upoštevala nasvet govorečega žužka, naju ne bo stalo nič drugega kot trud, potreben za kopanje jame. Dela sem vajen; torej bom izkopal vodnjak.«
Naslednji dan se je lotil dela in kopal tako globoko v zemljo, da je komaj še dosegel rob jame in splezal iz nje; toda vode ni našel niti za kapljico.
»Morda nisi kopal dovolj globoko,« je rekla žena, ko ji je povedal, da ni uspel. Naslednji dan je zato izdelal dolgo lestev in jo postavil v jamo; potem pa je kopal in kopal in kopal, dokler vrh lestve ni komaj še segal do roba jame. A vode še vedno ni bilo.
Ko je žena naslednjič odšla z vedrom k potoku, je zagledala hrošča, ki je sedel na kamnu ob stezi. Ustavila se je in rekla: »Moj mož je izkopal vodnjak, a v njem ni vode.«
»Ali je v vodnjak namestil črpalko?« je vprašal hrošč. »Ne,« je odgovorila. »Potem storite, kakor sem vam naročil; namestite črpalko, in če ne boste dobili vode, vam obljubljam nekaj še dragocenejšega.«
Po teh besedah je hrošč hitro zdrsnil s kamna in izginil. Žena se je vrnila v hišo in možu povedala, kaj je rekel žužek.
»No,« je odvrnil preprosti mož, »če poskusiva, ne more škoditi.« Prinesel je črpalko iz skednja in jo namestil v vodnjak, nato pa prijel za ročico in začel črpati, medtem ko je žena stala ob njem in opazovala, kaj se bo zgodilo.
Vode ni bilo, toda čez nekaj trenutkov je iz dulca črpalke padel zlatnik, nato še eden in še eden, dokler ni na tleh ležal kupček z nekaj pestmi zlata.
Mož je tedaj nehal črpati in prihitel pomagat ženi pobirati zlatnike v predpasnik; a roke so se jima od vznemirjenja in veselja tako tresle, da sta komaj pobirala lesketajoče se kovance.
Naposled jih je žena stisnila k prsim in skupaj sta stekla v hišo, kjer sta dragoceno zlato stresla na mizo in preštela kovance.
Vsi so nosili pečat kovnice Združenih držav in vsak je bil vreden pet dolarjev. Nekateri so bili obrabljeni in od rabe nekoliko potemneli, drugi pa so bili videti svetli in novi, kakor da ne bi prav pogosto prehajali iz rok v roke. Ko sta seštela njihovo vrednost, sta ugotovila, da so vredni tristo dolarjev.
Nenadoma je žena spregovorila. »Mož, hrošč je govoril resnico, ko je rekel, da bova iz vodnjaka dobila nekaj dragocenejšega od vode. Toda brž steci in odstrani ročico s črpalke, da ne bi kdo prišel mimo in odkril najine skrivnosti.«
Mož je stekel k črpalki in odstranil ročico, jo odnesel v hišo in skril pod posteljo. Tisto noč skorajda nista zatisnila očesa, saj sta budna premišljevala o svoji sreči in o tem, kaj bosta storila z zalogo rumenega zlata. V vsem svojem dotedanjem življenju nikoli nista imela več kot nekaj dolarjev naenkrat, zdaj pa je bil razpokani čajnik skoraj poln zlatnikov.
Naslednji dan je bila nedelja. Zgodaj sta vstala in stekla pogledat, ali je njun zaklad na varnem. Tam je ležal, lepo nakopičen v čajniku, in tako rada sta si pasla oči na njem, da je minilo precej časa, preden se je mož lahko odtrgal od njega, da bi zakuril, žena pa, da bi pripravila zajtrk.
Medtem ko sta jedla svoj preprosti obrok, je žena rekla: »Danes bova šla v cerkev in se zahvalila za bogastvo, ki naju je tako nenadoma doletelo. In pastorju bom dala en zlatnik.«
»Prav je, da greva v cerkev,« je odgovoril mož, »in prav je tudi, da se zahvaliva. Toda ponoči sem se odločil, kako bova porabila ves denar; zato za pastorja ne bo nič ostalo.«
»Lahko ga načrpava še več,« je rekla žena. »Morda; morda pa tudi ne,« je previdno odgovoril. »Na to, kar imava, se lahko zaneseva, ali je v vodnjaku še kaj, pa ne morem reči.«
»Potem pa pojdi pogledat,« je odvrnila, »kajti rada bi nekaj dala pastorju, ki je reven človek in si to zasluži.« Mož je vzel ročico črpalke izpod postelje, odšel k črpalki in jo pritrdil. Nato je pod dulec postavil veliko leseno vedro in začel črpati. Na njuno veselje so zlatniki kmalu začeli padati vanj, in ko je žena videla, da bo polno do roba, je prinesla drugo vedro. Toda tedaj se je tok nenadoma ustavil in mož je veselo rekel:
»Za danes je dovolj, ljuba žena! Najin zaklad se je precej povečal in pastor bo dobil svoj zlatnik. Pravzaprav mislim, da bom tudi sam vrgel kovanec v pušico.«
Ker v čajniku ni bilo več prostora za zlato, je kmet vedro izpraznil v zaboj za drva in denar pokril s suhim listjem in vejicami, da nihče ne bi posumil, kaj leži spodaj.
Potem sta se oblekla v svoja najboljša oblačila in se odpravila v cerkev; vsak je iz čajnika vzel po en svetel zlatnik za dar pastorju.
Šla sta čez hrib in navzdol v dolino na drugi strani, tako vesela in lahkega srca, da se jima pot sploh ni zdela dolga. Naposled sta prispela do vaške cerkvice in vstopila ravno, ko se je začelo bogoslužje.
Ponosna na svoje bogastvo in na darova, ki sta ju prinesla pastorju, sta komaj čakala trenutek, ko bo diakon prišel mimo s pušico. Končno je napočil čas in kmet je dvignil roko visoko nad pušico ter spustil vanjo zlatnik, tako da je vsa zbrana občina lahko videla, kaj je daroval. Žena je storila enako, vsa pomembna in srečna, da je lahko dobremu pastorju dala toliko.
Pastor, ki je opazoval s prižnice, je videl zlato pasti v pušico in je komaj verjel svojim očem. Toda ko so pušico položili na njegovo mizo, sta bila v njej res dva zlatnika, in tako je bil presenečen, da je skoraj pozabil na pridigo.
Ko so ljudje ob koncu bogoslužja odhajali iz cerkve, je dobri mož ustavil kmeta in njegovo ženo ter ju vprašal: »Kje sta dobila toliko zlata?«
Žena mu je rada povedala, kako je rešila hrošča in kako sta bila v zameno nagrajena s čudežno črpalko. Pastor je resno poslušal in ko je končala zgodbo, je rekel:
»Po izročilu so se na tem svetu pred davnimi časi dogajale nenavadne stvari, zdaj pa vidim, da se lahko dogajajo tudi danes. Kajti po vajini pripovedi sta našla hrošča, ki zna govoriti in ima tudi moč, da vaju obdari z velikim bogastvom.« Nato si je skrbno ogledal zlatnika in nadaljeval: »Ta denar je bodisi pravljično zlato bodisi prava kovina, skovana v kovnici vlade Združenih držav. Če je pravljično zlato, bo v štiriindvajsetih urah izginilo in zato nikomur ne bo koristilo. Če pa je pravi denar, potem je vajin hrošč moral nekomu ukrasti zlato in ga spraviti v vajin vodnjak. Kajti ves denar nekomu pripada, in če ga nista pošteno zaslužila, temveč sta ga dobila na skrivnostni način, ki ga opisujeta, je bil gotovo odvzet lastnikom brez njihovega privoljenja. Od kod drugod pa bi lahko prišel pravi denar?«
Kmeta in njegovo ženo so te besede zmedle in krivo sta se spogledala, saj sta bila poštena človeka in nista želela nikomur storiti krivice.
»Torej mislite, da je hrošč denar ukradel?« je vprašala žena. »S svojimi čarobnimi močmi ga je najbrž vzel zakonitim lastnikom. Celo žužki, ki znajo govoriti, nimajo vesti in ne ločijo med dobrim in slabim. V želji, da bi vaju nagradil za vajino dobroto, je hrošč zakonitim lastnikom odvzel denar, ki sta ga načrpala iz vodnjaka.«
»Morda pa je res pravljično zlato,« je pripomnil mož. »Če je tako, morava v mesto in denar porabiti, preden izgine.« »To bi bilo narobe,« je odgovoril pastor, »kajti potem bi trgovci ostali brez denarja in brez blaga. Če bi jim dala pravljično zlato, bi jih oropala.«
»Kaj naj torej storiva?« je vprašala uboga žena in si od žalosti in razočaranja vila roke. »Pojdita domov in počakajta do jutri. Če bo zlato tedaj še pri vaju, je pravi denar in ne pravljično zlato. Če pa je pravi denar, ga morata poskusiti vrniti zakonitim lastnikom. Vzemita tudi ta kovanca, ki sta mi ju dala, kajti ne morem sprejeti zlata, ki ni bilo pošteno pridobljeno.«
Uboga človeka sta se žalostna vrnila domov, močno vznemirjena zaradi tega, kar sta slišala. Minila je še ena neprespana noč in v ponedeljek zjutraj sta vstala ob svitu ter stekla pogledat, ali je zlato še vedno tam.
»Navsezadnje je vendarle pravi denar!« je vzkliknil mož. »Niti en sam kovanec ni izginil.« Ko je žena tistega dne odšla k potoku, je poiskala hrošča in res je sedel na ploščatem kamnu.
»Ste zdaj srečni?« je vprašal hrošč, ko se je žena ustavila pred njim. »Zelo nesrečna sva,« je odgovorila, »kajti čeprav si nama dal veliko zlata, najin dobri pastor pravi, da gotovo pripada nekomu drugemu in da si ga ukradel, da bi naju nagradil.«
»Vaš pastor je morda dober človek,« je nekoliko ogorčeno odvrnil hrošč, »a prav posebno moder zagotovo ni. Kljub temu vam lahko zlato, če ga ne želite, vzamem prav tako zlahka, kakor sem vam ga dal.«
»Ampak hočeva ga!« je prestrašeno vzkliknila žena. »Se pravi,« je dodala, »če je pošteno pridobljeno.« »Ni ukradeno,« je užaljeno odvrnil hrošč, »in zdaj ne pripada nikomur razen vama. Ko ste mi rešili življenje, sem razmišljal, kako bi vas nagradil; in ker sem vedel, da ste revni, sem sklenil, da vas bo zlato osrečilo bolj kot karkoli drugega.
»Vedeti morate,« je nadaljeval, »da sem kljub svoji drobni in nepomembni zunanjosti v resnici kralj vseh žuželk in da moje ljudstvo uboga vsako mojo najmanjšo željo. Ker žuželke živijo tik ob tleh, pogosto naletijo na zlatnike in druge kovance, ki so jih ljudje izgubili in so padli v razpoke ali špranje, jih je zasula prst ali pa sta jih skrila trava in plevel. Kadar moje ljudstvo tako najde denar, mi to sporoči; toda doslej sem ga vedno pustil tam, kjer je bil, saj žuželki nikakor ne more koristiti.
»Ko pa sem se odločil, da vam podarim zlato, sem natanko vedel, kje ga lahko dobim, ne da bi oropal katerega od vaših soljudi. Takoj sem na vse strani poslal na tisoče žuželk, da bi na ta hrib prinesle izgubljene zlatnike. Kot si lahko predstavljate, je to moje ljudstvo stalo več dni trdega dela; toda ko je vaš mož dokončal vodnjak, je zlato že začelo prihajati iz vseh koncev dežele in ponoči so ga moji podaniki vsega stresli vanj. Zato ga lahko uporabljata s čisto vestjo, saj vesta, da nikomur ne delata krivice.«
Ta razlaga je ženo razveselila, in ko se je vrnila v hišo ter možu povedala, kaj je rekel hrošč, je bil tudi on presrečen.
Nemudoma sta torej vzela precej zlatnikov in odšla v mesto nakupovat živež, oblačila in mnoge druge stvari, ki sta jih že dolgo potrebovala; toda na svoje novo pridobljeno bogastvo sta bila tako ponosna, da se ga sploh nista trudila skrivati. Želela sta, da bi vsi vedeli, da imata denar, zato ni bilo nič čudnega, da so si nekateri malopridneži v vasi, ko so zagledali zlato, zaželeli, da bi ga imeli sami.
»Če tako razsipno zapravljata,« je eden zašepetal drugemu, »morata imeti doma veliko zalogo zlata.« »Res je,« se je glasil odgovor. »Pohitiva tja, še preden se vrneta, in preiščiva hišo.«
Zapustili so vas in odhiteli na kmetijo na hribu, kjer so razbili vrata in vse obrnili na glavo, dokler niso odkrili zlata v zaboju za drva in čajniku. Ni trajalo dolgo, da so ga povezali v svežnje, si jih oprtali na hrbte in odnesli; in najbrž se jim je zelo mudilo, saj se niso ustavili, da bi hišo spet spravili v red.
Kmalu zatem sta dobra žena in njen mož prišla iz vasi po hribu navzgor s polnimi naročji zavojev, za njima pa je šla gruča dečkov, ki sta jih najela, da bi pomagali nesti nakupljeno blago. Sledili so še drugi, mladeniči in vaški postopači, ki sta jih privabila bogastvo in razsipnost zakoncev in so iz gole radovednosti stopali za njima kakor rep kometa ter pomagali množico spremeniti v zmagoslavni sprevod. Prav zadnji je šel trgovec Guggins, ki je zelo pazljivo nosil novo svileno obleko; plačala naj bi jo, ko bi prispeli do hiše, saj sta ves denar, ki sta ga vzela s seboj v vas, razkošno zapravila.
Kmet, ki je bil prej skromen človek, je zdaj tako kipel od ponosa, da si je klobuk poveznil nad levo uho in kadil veliko cigaro, od katere mu je postajalo čedalje bolj slabo. Žena se je ob njem šopirila kakor pav in v polni meri uživala v poklonih in spoštovanju, ki ji ju je bogastvo prineslo pri ljudeh, ki se prej niso niti zmenili zanjo; od časa do časa se je ozrla na občudujoči sprevod za seboj.
Toda gorje njunemu novorojenemu ponosu! Ko sta prispela do kmečke hiše, sta našla razbita vrata, pohištvo razmetano na vse strani in svoj zaklad ukraden do zadnjega zlatnika.
Množica se je režala in zbadljivo govorila na njun račun, trgovec Guggins pa je glasno zahteval denar za svileno obleko, ki jo je prinesel.
Tedaj je žena zašepetala možu, naj steče načrpat še nekaj zlata, ona pa bo medtem mirila množico, in brž jo je ubogal. Toda čez nekaj trenutkov se je vrnil bled kot stena in ji povedal, da je črpalka suha in da iz dulca ni več mogoče izvabiti niti enega zlatnika.
Sprevod se je vrnil v vas ter se smejal in posmehoval kmetu in njegovi ženi, ki sta se pretvarjala, da sta tako bogata; nekateri dečki pa so bili celo tako poredni, da so z vrha hriba metali kamenje v hišo. Gospod Guggins je odnesel svojo obleko, potem ko je ženo pošteno oštel, ker ga je prevarala; in ko sta zakonca naposled ostala sama, se je njun ponos spremenil v ponižanje, njuno veselje pa v grenko žalost.
Tik pred sončnim zahodom si je žena obrisala oči, spet oblekla vsakdanja oblačila in odšla k potoku po vodo. Ko je prišla do ploščatega kamna, je na njem zagledala kralja hroščev.
»Vodnjak je suh!« je jezno vzkliknila. »Da,« je mirno odgovoril hrošč, »iz njega sta načrpala vse zlato, ki ga je moje ljudstvo lahko našlo.« »Ampak zdaj sva uničena,« je rekla žena, sedla na stezo in začela jokati, »kajti roparji so nama ukradli prav vsak novčič, ki sva ga imela.«
»Žal mi je,« je odvrnil hrošč, »toda sami ste si krivi. Če se ne bi tako bahali s svojim bogastvom, nihče ne bi posumil, da imate zaklad, ali pomislil, da bi vas oropal. Tako pa ste zgolj izgubili zlato, ki so ga drugi izgubili že pred vami. Najbrž bo izgubljeno še mnogokrat, preden bo konec sveta.«
»Kaj pa naj zdaj storiva?« je vprašala. »Kaj sta počela, preden sem vama dal denar?« »Delala sva od jutra do večera,« je rekla. »Potem vama delo še vedno ostaja,« je mirno pripomnil hrošč, »in tega vama nihče ne bo nikoli poskušal ukrasti, o tem ste lahko prepričani!« Nato je zdrsnil s kamna in še zadnjič izginil.
Ta zgodba naj nas nauči, da srečo sprejemamo s ponižnim srcem in jo uživamo zmerno. Kajti če bi se kmet in njegova žena uprla skušnjavi, da se razkazujeta s svojim bogastvom, bi ga nemara ohranila vse do današnjega dne.
Izvirnik
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.
