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Written by Administrator
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Page 1 of 6 ONCE upon a time, a very old woodman lived with his very old wife in a tiny hut close to the orchard of a rich man,–so close that the boughs of a pear-tree hung right over the cottage yard. Now it was agreed between the rich man and the woodman, that if any of the fruit fell into the yard, the old couple were to be allowed to eat it; so you may imagine
with what hungry eyes they watched the pears ripening, and prayed for a storm of wind, or a flock of flying foxes, or anything which would cause the fruit to fall. But nothing came, and the old wife, who was a grumbling, scolding old thing, declared they would infallibly become beggars. So she took to giving her husband nothing but dry bread to eat, and insisted on his working harder than ever, till the poor old soul got quite thin; and all because the pears would not fall down! At last, the woodman turned round and declared he would not work any more unless his wife gave him khichrī to his dinner; so with a very bad grace the old woman took some rice and pulse, some butter and spices, and began to cook a savoury khichrī. What an appetising smell it had, to be sure! The woodman was for gobbling it up as soon as ever it was ready. -No, no,- cried the greedy old wife, -not till you have brought me in another load of wood; and mind it is a good one. You must work for your dinner.-
So the old man set off to the forest and began to hack and to hew with such a will that he soon had quite a large bundle, and with every faggot he cut he seemed to smell the savoury khichrī and think of the feast that was coming.
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