THE FLYING CARPET 125

went to draw in his nets by the light of the moon. And what
do you think he found in them? It was neither a pike nor
a trout, but a small fish with eyes of diamonds, fins of rain-
bow colour, and golden scales that shone and flashed like
lightning.

When he had spread his nets on the beach the fish began
to talk to him in the language of men.

“Do not kill me, young fisherman,” it said, “but accept
in exchange for my life this golden ring. Every time you
put it on your finger repeat these words:

‘I conjure thee, O ring, who gold can give,
In the name of the little fishling of gold,
For the good of man, that man may live,
And the honour of heaven, send, new or old,
Little or much, as may be my need,

Coins of the realm, let them fall like seed.’

After uttering each of these words, a shower of gold pieces
will fall.”

The fisherman gladly accepted the ring, and freeing the
miraculous fish from the net he threw it back into the water.
As it fell, it shone in the air like a shooting star and then
disappeared beneath the waves.

On his way back he said to himself, “‘My mother and I
will go to bed hungry to-night, without our fried fish, but to-
morrow, when I have made the golden coins gleam in our
humble cottage, all sorts of good things will find their way
there, and we shall live like lords.”

But things turned out very differently, for the first thing
he saw on opening the door was the table covered with a