MANY, many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain them; his only ambition was to be always well dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him; the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day; and as one would say of a king "He is in his cabinet," so one could say of him, "The emperor is in his dressing-room."

The great city where he resided was very gay; every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this city; they made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid.

"That must be wonderful cloth," thought the emperor. "If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay." And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms, and pretended to be very hard at work, but they did nothing whatever on the looms. They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold-cloth; all they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night.

"I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth," thought the emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he who was not fit for his office could not see it. Personally, he was of the opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbours were.

"I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers," thought the emperor. "He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he." The good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the empty looms. "Heaven preserve us!" he thought, and opened his eyes wide, "I cannot see anything at all," but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty looms. The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "Oh dear," he thought, "can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth."

"Now, have you got nothing to say?" said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving. "Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful," replied the old minister looking through his glasses. "What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much."
"We are pleased to hear that," said the two weavers, and described to him the colours and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened attentively, that he might relate to the emperor what they said; and so he did.

Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold-cloth, which they required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty looms. Soon afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked and looked but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be seen.

"Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked the two swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist. "I am not stupid," said the man. "It is therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it;" and he praised the cloth, which he did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours and the fine pattern. "It is very excellent," he said to the emperor.

Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, who now worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread. "Is it not magnificent?" said the two old statesmen who had been there before. "Your Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern." And then they pointed to the empty looms, for they imagined the others could see the cloth.
"What is this?" thought the emperor, "I do not see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me."

"Really," he said, turning to the weavers, "your cloth has our most gracious approval;" and nodding contentedly he looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing. All his attendants, who were with him, looked and looked, and although they could not see anything more than the others, they said, like the emperor, "It is very beautiful." And all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place. "It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent," one heard them say; everybody seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed the two swindlers "Imperial Court weavers."

The whole night previous to the day on which the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy to finish the emperor's new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread, and said at last: "The emperor's new suit is ready now."

The emperor and all his barons then came to the hall; the swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in their hands and said: "These are the trousers!" "This is the coat!" and "Here is the cloak!" and so on. "They are all as light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them."
"Indeed!" said all the courtiers; but they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen. "Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress," said the swindlers, "that we may assist your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?" The emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.

"How well they look! How well they fit!" said all. "What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent suit of clothes!" The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession, were ready.
"I am ready," said the emperor. "Does not my suit fit me marvellously?" Then he turned once more to the looking-glass, that people should think he admired his garments. The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like people to know that they could not see anything.

The emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the windows exclaimed: "Indeed, the emperor's new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!" Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never emperor's clothes were more admired.
"But he has nothing on at all," said a little child at last. "Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child," said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said. "But he has nothing on at all," cried at last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, "Now I must bear up to the end." And the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried the train which did not exist.

THE flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers as delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more so. The sun shone, and the showers watered it; and this was just as good for the flax as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother. They look much prettier for it, and so did the flax.

" People say that I look exceedingly well," said the flax, "and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am; it makes me so happy, it is such a pleasant thing to know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers me, and how sweet and refreshing is the rain; my happiness overpowers me, no one in the world can feel happier than I am."
"Ah, yes, no doubt," said the fern, "but you do not know the world yet as well as I do, for my sticks are knotty;" and then it sung quite mournfully-
"Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lurre:
The song is ended."
"No, it is not ended," said the flax. "Tomorrow the sun will shine, or the rain descend. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in full blossom. I am the happiest of all creatures."

Well, one day some people came, who took hold of the flax, and pulled it up by the roots; this was painful; then it was laid in water as if they intended to drown it; and, after that, placed near a fire as if it were to be roasted; all this was very shocking.
"We cannot expect to be happy always," said the flax; "by experiencing evil as well as good, we become wise." And certainly there was plenty of evil in store for the flax. It was steeped, and roasted, and broken, and combed; indeed, it scarcely knew what was done to it.

At last it was put on the spinning wheel.
"Whirr, whirr," went the wheel so quickly that the flax could not collect its thoughts. "Well, I have been very happy," he thought in the midst of his pain, "and must be contented with the past;" and contented he remained till he was put on the loom, and became a beautiful piece of white linen.
All the flax, even to the last stalk, was used in making this one piece. "Well, this is quite wonderful; I could not have believed that I should be so favored by fortune. The fern was not wrong with its song of
'Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lurre.'
But the song is not ended yet, I am sure; it is only just beginning. How wonderful it is, that after all I have suffered, I am made something of at last; I am the luckiest person in the world, so strong and fine; and how white, and what a length!

This is something different to being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention, nor any water unless it rained; now, I am watched and taken care of. Every morning the maid turns me over, and I have a shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, and the clergyman's wife noticed me, and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be happier than I am now."

After some time, the linen was taken into the house, placed under the scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, and then pricked with needles. This certainly was not pleasant; but at last it was made into twelve garments of that kind which people do not like to name, and yet everybody should wear one.
"See, now, then," said the flax; "I have become something of importance. This was my destiny; it is quite a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, as everyone ought to be; it is the only way to be happy. I am now divided into twelve pieces, and yet we are all one and the same in the whole dozen. It is most extraordinary good fortune."

Years passed away, and at last the linen was so worn it could scarcely hold together. "It must end very soon," said the pieces to each other; "we would gladly have held together a little longer, but it is useless to expect impossibilities." And at length they fell into rags and tatters, and thought it was all over with them, for they were torn to shreds, and steeped in water, and made into a pulp, and dried, and they knew not what besides, till all at once they found themselves beautiful white paper.

"Well, now, this is a surprise; a glorious surprise too," said the paper. "I am now finer than ever, and I shall be written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may have written upon me. This is wonderful luck!" And sure enough the most beautiful stories and poetry were written upon it, and only once was there a blot, which was very fortunate. Then people heard the stories and poetry read, and it made them wiser and better; for all that was written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great blessing was contained in the words on this paper.

"I never imagined anything like this," said the paper, "when I was only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to man? I cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do with my weak powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the song is ended; and then something higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that people may read me. It cannot be otherwise; indeed, it is more than probable; for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me, than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever."

But the paper did not go on its travels; it was sent to the printer, and all the words written upon it were set up in type, to make a book, or rather, many hundreds of books; for so many more persons could derive pleasure and profit from a printed book, than from the written paper; and if the paper had been sent around the world, it would have been worn out before it had got half through its journey.

"This is certainly the wisest plan," said the written paper; "I really did not think of that. I shall remain at home, and be held in honor, like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word flowed from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all."

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, and thrown into a tub that stood in the washhouse.
"After work, it is well to rest," said the paper, "and a very good opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now I am able, for the first time, to think of my real condition; and to know one's self is true progress. What will be done with me now, I wonder? No doubt I shall still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know quite well."

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken out, and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be sold at the shop, to wrap up butter and sugar, because it had been written upon.
The children in the house stood round the stove; for they wanted to see the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily, and afterwards, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen running one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind.
They called it seeing the children come out of school, and the last spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had come; and one would cry, "There goes the schoolmaster;" but the next moment another spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How they would like to know where the sparks all went to! Perhaps we shall find out some day, but we don't know now.

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, and was soon alight. "Ugh," cried the paper, as it burst into a bright flame; "ugh."
It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning; but when the whole was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the air, higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its little blue flower, and they glistened as the white linen never could have glistened. All the written letters became quite red in a moment, and all the words and thoughts turned to fire.

"Now I am mounting straight up to the sun," said a voice in the flames; and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words; and the flames darted up through the chimney, and went out at the top. Then a number of tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the flax had been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them. They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which they were born; and as the flames were extinguished, and nothing remained of the paper but black ashes, these little beings danced upon it; and whenever they touched it, bright red sparks appeared.

"The children are all out of school, and the schoolmaster was the last of all," said the children. It was good fun, and they sang over the dead ashes,-
"Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lure:
The song is ended."

But the little invisible beings said, "The song is never ended; the most beautiful is yet to come."
But the children could neither hear nor understand this, nor should they; for children must not know everything.

An old man, having fire wood to sell, was making his way along a mountain path. Unfortunately it was snowing at this time. On his way back home, the old man was saying to himself: "Today I was unable to sell even one stick of wood. My wife will be upset with me."

Just then, he heard the flapping of wings. He muttered to himself, "Eh, what's that?" Taking a look, he saw a big white crane beating the ground with its wings. The crane begged the old man for his help. The old man said "poor creature, so wretched and forlorn. It seems as if you have fallen into a trap. I shall try to help you." So saying, the old man set about freeing the crane from the trap. The old man said " Fly away, you are free to go anywhere you like!" Now free, the crane mounted into the air, circled once over the old man and disappeared into the sky.

On his return, he explained to his wife what happened; " I was on my way home and help free a crane." The old wife replied: " You have done a very good thing. Maybe the crane will find a way to thank you." They then talked about the crane, forgetting the fact that the firewood remained unsold.

Next evening the old man heard someone knock on the door and said; " Who's that at this time of night?" On opening the door he saw a beautiful young woman standing before him.
The beautiful young girl said to him: "On my way home I became lost. Might I stay here a night?" As it was very cold that night, she was shivering. The old man said: " Please come in and warm yourself by the fire." The old couple invited the young girl into their house.

At once the young girl went to the kitchen and began to work, saying "take a break, I will prepare food for you." The young girl made a delicious feast from the simple things she found in the kitchen From that night on the snow fell without pause. The road was completely blocked and the house was almost buried. They were unable to leave the house due to all the snow.

The young girl asked the old couple: "I am alone in this world and I would like to stay with you from now on." The old couple were very glad to hear this and said; "We are glad to hear this. If you could stay, it would make us very happy."
One morning, the old man left for town. Before he went the girl said "Please buy a skein of yarn for me." In town the old man sold all his wood and bought the skein of yarn for the young girl.

Having thanked the old man, he young girl said she would weave clothes for the old man but cautioned him not look in on her whilst she was at the loom. That evening she went into the rear room and worked until late at night. The next morning she emerged from the room, bearing a beautiful piece of material. "Please sell this at market, the next time you go to town" she said. The old man looked at the cloth with eyes wide with wonder and amazement for -the cloth was an "ayanshiki" - a very expensive and delicate cloth. The rumour of the existence of the "ayanshiki" eventually reached the ears of the king. The king demanded to see both the cloth and the old man. On seeing the cloth the king gave the old man a lot of money. From that day forth the girl weaved every day and the couple became very wealthy.

Die 49. Historie sagt, wie Eulenspiegel an einem Feiertag Wolle schlug,
weil der Tuchmacher ihm verboten hatte, am Montag zu feiern.

Als Eulenspiegel nach Stendal kam, gab er sich als Wollweber aus. Eines Sonntags sagte der Wollweber zu ihm: "Lieber Knecht, ihr Gesellen feiert gern am Montag. Wer das zu tun pflegt, den habe ich nicht gern in meinem Dienst; bei mir muß er die Woche durcharbeiten."

Eulenspiegel sprach: "Ja, Meister, das ist mir sehr lieb." Da stand er am Montagmorgen auf und schlug Wolle, desgleichen am Dienstag. Das gefiel dem Wollweber wohl.
Am Mittwoch war ein Aposteltag, so daß sie feiern mußten. Aber Eulenspiegel tat, als ob er von dem Feiertag nichts wüßte, stand des Morgens auf, spannte eine Schnur und schlug Wolle, daß man es über die ganze Straße hörte. Der Meister fuhr sogleich aus dem Bett und sagte zu ihm: "Hör auf! Hör auf! Es ist heute ein Feiertag, wir dürfen nicht arbeiten."

Eulenspiegel sprach: "Lieber Meister, Ihr kündigtet mir doch am Sonntag keinen Feiertag an, sondern Ihr sagtet, ich solle die ganze Woche durcharbeiten." Der Wollweber sprach: "Lieber Geselle, das meinte ich nicht so. Hör auf und schlag keine Wolle mehr! Was du den Tag verdienen könntest, will ich dir gleichwohl geben."
Eulenspiegel war damit zufrieden und arbeitete an diesem Tage nicht.

Am Abend unterhielt er sich mit seinem Meister. Da sagte der Wollweber zu ihm, daß ihm das Wolleschlagen wohl gelinge, aber er müsse die Wolle ein wenig höher schlagen. Eulenspiegel sagte ja, stand des Morgens früh auf, spannte den Bogen oben an die Latte und setzte eine Leiter daran. Er stieg hinauf und richtete es so ein, daß der Schlagstock bis oben auf die Darre hinaufreichte. Dann holte er unten von der Darre, die vom Fußboden bis zum Dachboden reichte, Wolle nach oben und schlug sie, daß sie über das Haus stob.
Der Wollweber lag im Bett und hörte schon am Schlag, daß Eulenspiegel es nicht richtig machte. Er stand auf und sah nach ihm. Eulenspiegel sprach: "Meister, was dünkt Euch, ist das hoch genug?" Der Meister sagte zu ihm: "Meiner Treu! Stündest du auf dem Dach, so wärst du noch höher. Wenn du so die Wolle schlagen willst, so kannst du sie ebenso gut auf dem Dach sitzend schlagen, als daß du hier auf der Leiter stehst." Damit ging er aus dem Haus in die Kirche.

Eulenspiegel merkte sich die Rede, nahm den Schlagstock, stieg auf das Dach und schlug die Wolle auf dem Dache. Dessen wurde der Meister draußen auf der Gasse gewahr, kam sogleich zurückgelaufen und sprach: "Was, zum Teufel, machst du? Hör auf! Pflegt man die Wolle auf dem Dach zu schlagen?" Eulenspiegel sagte: "Was sagt Ihr jetzt? Ihr spracht doch vorhin, es sei besser auf dem Dach als auf der Leiter, denn das sei noch höher als die Balken!"

Der Wollweber sprach: "Willst du Wolle schlagen, so schlage sie! Willst du Narretei treiben, so treibe sie! Steig von dem Dach und scheiß in die Darre." Damit ging der Wollweber in das Haus und in den Hof.
Eulenspiegel stieg eilig vom Dach, ging in das Haus in die Stube und schiß dort einen großen Haufen Dreck in die Darre. Der Wollweber kam aus dem Hof, sah, daß er in die Stube schiß, und sagte: "Daß dir nimmer Gutes geschehe! Du tust, wie alle Schälke zu tun pflegen."

Eulenspiegel sprach: "Meister, ich tue doch nichts anderes, als was Ihr mich geheißen habt. Ihr sagtet, ich solle vom Dach steigen und in die Darre scheißen. Warum zürnt Ihr darum? Ich tue, wie Ihr mich heißet."
Der Wollweber sagte: "Du schissest mir wohl auf den Kopf, auch ungeheißen. Nimm den Dreck und trag ihn an einen Ort, wo ihn niemand haben will!" Eulenspiegel sagte ja, nahm den Dreck auf ein Stück Holz und trug ihn in die Speisekammer.
Da sprach der Wollweber: "Laß ihn draußen, ich will ihn nicht darin haben!" Eulenspiegel sagte: "Daß weiß ich wohl, daß Ihr ihn da nicht haben wollt. Niemand will ihn da haben, aber ich tue, wie Ihr mich heißet."

Der Wollweber wurde zornig, lief zum Stall und wollte Eulenspiegel ein Scheit Holz an den Kopf werfen. Da ging Eulenspiegel aus der Türe zum Haus hinaus und sagte: "Kann ich denn nirgends Dank verdienen?" Der Wollweber wollte nun das Holz mit dem Dreck rasch ergreifen, aber er besudelte sich die Finger. Da ließ er den Dreck fallen, lief zum Brunnen und wusch sich die Hände. Inzwischen ging Eulenspiegel hinweg.

Autrefois, il y a si longtemps, l'araignée ne savait pas tisser ou fabriquer ce que l'on appelle aujourd'hui " toile d'araignée ". Elle habitait, en ce temps là, un petit trou sombre dans la terre.

Cachée près de l'ouverture, elle attendait que des insectes passent. Quand elle apercevait une proie qui rampait ou sautillait, elle allongeait ses pattes de devant au dehors pour l'attraper. Mais les victimes ne se laissaient pas facilement faire : elle griffaient, sautaient, se débattaient, mordaient.
Et comme l'araignée était assez faible et maladroite, souvent la proie lui échappait, lui laissant un œil au beurre noir, des pattes foulées et bien d'autres blessures.

La pauvre araignée était, de ce fait, réduite à souffrir continuellement de la faim. Son ventre restait flasque et ses pattes déjà maigres, devenaient transparentes. C'est comme ça que l'araignée vivait en ce temps-là.

A cette même période, l'araignée avait une amie mouche. Un jour que celle-ci lui rendait visite, après les salutations, l'araignée lui dit en se plaignant : " Mouche, je n'ai rien attrapé depuis plusieurs jours. J'ai terriblement faim ! Regarde mon ventre, il est tout plat et je me sens très faible."

La mouche répondit :
" C'est parce que tu restes toujours là à attendre seulement que les proies viennent à toi ! Viens avec moi ! Moi, je ne risque pas d'avoir faim !"
Elles partirent donc ensemble. Et les voilà en route. L'araignée avait du mal à avancer. Elle s'empêtrait dans ses huit longues pattes maigres. Elle n'arrivait pas à les mettre en ordre pour marcher.
La mouche, elle, avec ses six courtes pattes, était très agile. Elle courrait et dansait même sur la route, loin devant l'araignée. Et quand elle voyait quelque chose de bon à manger, elle s'envolait pour être sur d'arriver la première. Puis vite, vite, elle avalait gloutonnement ce qu'elle avait trouvé et ne laissait que des miettes, les pattes et les ailes, pour l'araignée. La mouche faisait toujours comme cela.

Alors, l'araignée, triste et affamée, lui dit : " Hé, mouche, ça ne va pas : tu courres, tu voles et tu prends tout pour toi ! Moi, je me fatigue à te suivre et tu ne me laisses que des rognures !"
La fine mouche répondit méchamment : " Tu te plains tout le temps ! Tu n'as qu'à te fabriquer des ailes, comme moi, et voler !"

L'araignée regarda tristement son amie. L'hypocrite lui dit : " Si tu veux, vas chez moi te chercher du fil. J'ai quelques écheveaux là-bas. Prends en un et essaie donc d'apprendre à tisser !" Et, avec un grand rire, elle s'envola.
L'araignée rebroussa chemin et alla directement chez la mouche. Sa maison était tout en désordre et l'araignée n'y trouva qu'un écheveau tout emmêlé. Elle le prit quand même et rentra chez elle. Elle commença alors à démêler l'écheveau, mais, plus elle s'acharnait, plus les fils se mélangeaient.

L'écheveau avait fini par remplir toute la maison de l'araignée. Enfin, elle finit pas dégager ses pattes, elle sortit et tira l'énorme écheveau dehors. Comme le soir tombait, elle abandonna tout le tas de fils et rentra pour dormir.

Le lendemain, très tôt, l'araignée se leva pour reprendre son travail. A peine sortie de son trou, elle eut la surprise de voir, ficelé dans les fils en désordre, un petit insecte recroquevillé.
Elle s'approcha, l'assomma, le sortit délicatement des fils enchevêtrés et le mangea. Elle venait juste de finir ce déjeuner quand elle entendit un grand éclat de rire. La mouche, perchée sur une brindille, contemplait l'enchevêtrement. L'araignée se retourna.

La mouche lui dit : " Alors, tes ailes sont-elles finies ? veux-tu venir avec moi aujourd'hui ? "
L'araignée, doucement, lui répondit : " Non ! Va-t-en toute seule. Moi, je reste là car je suis encore fatiguée." Dès que la mouche fut partie, l'araignée suspendit son ouvrage sur la brindille où la mouche s'était perchée. Elle se mit à tisser une toile mieux ordonnée.
Elle travailla toute la journée et, pour finir, entreprit de mettre de la glu sur la toile. Le soir, la mouche revint. Elle volait joyeusement, riant à l'avance des nouvelles plaintes de l'araignée. Elle en riait tellement qu'elle ne vit pas la toile transparente de l'araignée et s'y colla.

L'araignée, cachée entre deux branches, l'observait. La mouche s'agita, essaya de se décoller de la toile, fit vibrer ses ailes, remua ses pattes si agiles. Rien n'y fit. Elle s'épuisa en vain. A la fin, elle s'immobilisa, morte de fatigue.

Alors l'araignée, se déplaçant délicatement sur la toile gluante, la fit se balancer pour voir si la mouche réagissait encore. Elle était bien morte. L'araignée la décrocha délicatement et commença son repas, ne laissant que les pattes et les ailes qui tombèrent par terre. Puis elle s'essuya la bouche, repue et satisfaite.

C'est ainsi que finit l'amitié de la mouche et de l'araignée et c'est à partir de ce jour que l'araignée prit l'habitude de tisser des toiles gluantes pour attraper ses proies.

There was once a farmer's wife called Inary who lived on Tiree. She was a hardworking woman and after the chores of the day were done she would spin and weave long into the night. One night when she was up alone spinning her yarn for her next batch of cloth, she was overtaken by a great tiredness. 'I wish someone would come from land or sea, from far or near, to help me finish this cloth!' Inary exclaimed.

Just then there was a knock at the door and a voice called 'Let me in Inary I have come to help you.' Inary opened the door to find a tiny woman dressed in green, the newcomer came straight in and sat down at the spinning wheel and started to spin. Inary had hardly time to shut the door when another woman knocked upon it and asked to be let in. Inary opened the door and another small green clad lady entered and set her hands straight to the distaff.

Inary's visitors continued to arrive until she lost count of them all. Some sat down at the loom and started to weave. Some teazed and carded wool while others boiled fulling water over the fire for the finished cloth. The whole room was full of the women and yet their clattering failed to wake Inary's family in the next room.

She realised at last that they were faeries from Burg Hill and her sleeping family were under a spell. The faeries began to complain of hunger and Inary tried to feed them all, but the more they worked the hungrier they became. Inary was soon down to her last loaf and desperate she ran from the house and went straight to the cottage of the local wise man. Inary tumbled out her story and begged the old man to help her. The wise man was grave and told Inary that her foolish request had brought her into this trouble. Her husband was indeed in an enchanted sleep and she must get the faeries out of the house and sprinkle him with fulling water to wake him.

Furthermore she must cry 'Burg Hill is on fire!' three times to make the faeries leave and upset all the tools and implements with which they had been working. Inary thanked the old man and went back to her house where the faeries were still at work, with all her might she cried.... 'There is fire in Burg Hill!
Burg Hill is on fire! Burg Hill is in red flames of fire!'

The faeries cried out in alarm in fear that everything they valued in the faery hill would be destroyed, and they all ran out of Inary's door. Once they were all gone Inary took the band of the spinning wheel, turned the loom upside down, twisted the distaff backwards and took the fulling water off the fire.
The faeries soon realised that they had been tricked and were back hammering on the door asking Inary to let them back in. Inary refused, so they asked the spinning wheel to help them.
'How can I?' the spinning wheel replied, 'I am without a band.' The faery folk appealed to the distaff to let them in. 'I cannot.' replied the distaff, 'I am twisted contrary.' Then they asked the loom. 'I would happily let you in but I am set topsy-turvy.' it replied. The impatient faeries appealed to the fulling water. 'I cannot help you,' it replied, 'I am off the fire.' In desperation the faeries appealed to the last loaf sitting on Inary's hearth and it bounded across the room to open the door.

Inary remembered the old man's words and quickly sprinkled some of the fulling water on her sleeping husband. The farmer sat up and strode to the door, and when he flung it open the faeries had fled, and they never came back to trouble Inary again.

Source: Scottish Folk Tales and Legends Barbara Ker Wilson Oxford University Press, 1954.

Having received an order for twenty yards of silk from Princess Lioness, the Silkworm sat down at her loom and worked away with zeal. A Spider soon came around and asked to hire a web-room near by.
The Silkworm acceded, and the Spider commenced her task and worked so rapidly that in a short time the web was finished.
"Just look at it," she said, "and see how grand and delicate it is. You cannot but acknowledge that I'm a much better worker than you. See how quickly I perform my labors."

"Yes," answered the Silkworm, "but hush up, for you bother me. Your labors are designed only as base traps, and are destroyed whenever they are seen, and brushed away as useless dirt; while mine are stored away, as ornaments of Royalty."