-gatherers; and if we
should be guilty of some offense, let thyself alone be our judge. And
do, we pray thee, pardon the seventh Simeon, our youngest brother. His
trade is surely bad, but he is not the first and not the last one to
have such a gift."

"Let it be as you wish," said the Tsar; and every desire was granted
to the seven Simeons, and each one of them received a big tumbler of
strong green wine out of the hands of the Tsar himself. Soon after
this the wedding was celebrated.

Now, honorable dames and gentlemen, do not judge this story of mine
too severely. If you like it, praise it; if not, let it be forgotten.
The story is told and a word is like a sparrow--once out it is out for
good.

[Illustration]

THE LANGUAGE OF THE BIRDS

[Illustration] Somewhere in a town in holy Russia, there lived a rich
merchant with his wife. He had an only son, a dear, bright, and brave
boy called Ivan. One lovely day Ivan sat at the dinner table with
his parents. Near the window in the same room hung a cage, and a
nightingale, a sweet-voiced, gray bird, was imprisoned within. The
sweet nightingale began to sing its wonderful song with trills and
high silvery tones. The merchant listened and listened to the song and
said:

"How I wish I could understand the meaning of the different songs of
all the birds! I would give half my wealth to the man, if only there
were such a man, who could make plain to me all the different songs of
the different birds."

Ivan took notice of these words and no matter where he went, no matter
where he was, no matter what he did, he always thought of how he could
learn the language of the birds.

[Illustration: _Ivan learns the language of the birds_]

Some time after this the merchant's son happened to be hunting in a
forest. The winds rose, the sky became clouded, the lightning flashed,
the thunder roared loudly, and the rain fell in torrents. Ivan soon
came near a large tree and saw a big nest in the branches. Four small
birds were in the nest; they were quite alone, and neither father nor
mother was there to protect them from the cold and wet. The good Ivan
pitied them, climbed the tree and covered the little ones with his
"kaftan," a long-skirted coat which the Russian peasants and merchants
usually wear. The thunderstorm passed by and a big bird came flying
and sat down on a branch near the nest and spoke very kindly to Ivan.

"Ivan, I thank thee; thou hast protected my lit