Читать книгу Fairy Tales Told in the Bush онлайн

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When Boy was fourteen years old, he knew so much about books that there was not a single book in the learned man’s library that he had not read. Oh, he was very clever and knowing, and he told his mother and father that he now knew enough to go and earn a good living. “In the morning,” said he, “I shall set out to make a fortune.”

Long before daybreak, the boy set out on his journey, carrying a bundle done up in a big red handkerchief. It contained a clean shirt, a pair of socks, a loaf of new bread, and a bottle of milk. His parents were very sad when he went away, but they knew he would never have any chance to become great and famous in the town where every one knew him as “the boy.”

Away trudged the boy, up hill and down dale, until at last, just before sunrise, he came to a hill where, as he imagined, cock had never crowed and man had never walked before. Tired and hungry, he sat down to eat his loaf and drink his milk, and, just as he had finished, a little old man dressed all in brown suddenly appeared before him. The boy rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming, for a minute before he had been alone; now, here was this funny little man looking at him. The little man wore knee-breeches and silk stockings, a cut-away coat, and a cocked hat, all of brown, and the funny thing was that the colour of his clothes matched the colour of his eyes and hair.