124 SLAV TALES

were ever in want of their daily bread. Every one called him
“the fisherman.”

One evening at dusk he went down to the lake to throw
in his nets, and standing on the shore with a new bucket in
his hand, waited to put into it whatever fish it might please
God to send him. In about a quarter of an hour or so he
drew in his nets and took out two bream. These he threw
into the bucket, and humming a merry song turned to go
home. At that moment a traveller, poorly clad, with hair
and beard white as the wings of a dove, spoke to him, saying,
“Have pity on a feeble old man, obliged to lean on his
stick, hungry and ragged. I beg you, in Heaven’s name, to
give me either money or bread. ‘The sun will soon set, and
I who have eaten nothing to-day shall have to pass the night
fasting, with the bare earth for a bed.”

“My good old friend, I am sorry I have nothing about
me to give you, but you see the black smoke curling up
in the distance? That is our cottage, where my old mother
is waiting for me to bring her some fish to cook for our
supper. Now take these two bream to her, meanwhile I will
return to the lake and throw in my nets again to see if I can
catch something more. Thus, with God’s help, we shall all
three have enough for supper to-night and breakfast to-morrow
morning.”

While speaking the fisherman handed the fish to the old
man, when, marvel of marvels! he melted into the rays of
the setting sun and vanished, both he and the fish.

The fisherman, much astonished, rubbed his eyes and
looked about on all sides. For a moment he felt afraid,
but when he had crossed himself all terror left him and he