Country Tales

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THE COBBLER AND THE RICH MAN


A cobbler worked in his shop from morning until night, and as he
worked he sang. Tired people who heard him were rested, and sad
men and women were cheered as they came near the shop. Children
visited him and watched him at his work and heard him sing. They
called him "Jolly Gregory."

"How can he sing when he works so hard and makes so little?" many
asked; but still his singing went on.

Across the road from the cobbler lived a rich man. His home was
beautiful, his clothes fine, and his fare the best that money
could buy; but never in his life had he been known to give to
anyone who needed help. He was really poor, for he lacked one
thing which he very much wanted--sleep. Sometimes he could not get
to sleep until early morning; then his neighbor's song would waken
him. He wished that sleep could be bought for money.

One day he said to himself, "I believe I will help that cobbler
over the way. He has a hard time to make enough money to buy his
food and clothes." So he sent for the cobbler.

"Honest Gregory," he said "how much do you earn in a year?"

"How much a year?" replied the cobbler, scratching his head. "I
never reckon my money in that way. It goes as fast as it comes,
but I am glad to be able to earn it. I cobble on from day to day
and earn a living."

"Well then, Gregory, how much do you earn each day?" asked the
rich man.

"Why, sometimes more and sometimes less," answered the cobbler.
"On many days--the holidays--I earn nothing. I wish there were
fewer of these; but then we manage to live."

"You are a happy man now," said the rich man, "but I will make you
happier," and he handed the cobbler five hundred dollars. "Go
spend this money carefully. It will supply your needs for many
days," he said.

The cobbler had never dreamed of so much money before. He thought
it was enough to keep him in food and clothes all his life.

He took the money home and hid it, but he hid his joy with it. He
stopped singing and became sad. He could not sleep for fear of
robbers. He thought that everyone who came into his shop was
trying to find out his secret, or wished a gift. When a cat ran
over the floor, he thought a thief had slipped through the door.

At last, poor man, he could bear it no longer. He took the money,
hurried to the rich man, and cried, "Oh, give me back my songs and
my sweet sleep! Here is your money, every cent of it. I made a
poor trade."

The rich man looked at him and said, "I thought I had made you
happy. I have not missed your songs, for, strange as it may seem,
I have been sleeping soundly ever since I talked with you."



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