Page:The Folk-Lore Journal Volume 1 1883.djvu/156

148 tunity. This man she now introduced from time to time into my house. One day, when he was expected, she sought a quarrel with me to get me out of the way. 'Why don't you do something?' said she; 'you are always indoors. Get out, man, and cut some wood!' I abused her heartily for her speech, and went out. When I returned I saw the man sitting in my chamber, and said to myself, 'Aha, my friend is here!' When my wife saw me she told him to get into the mat which was lying rolled up against the wall, and he did so. Going to the cow-house, where I knew there was some rope handy, I returned, groping all the way with my stick. 'What do you want with that rope?' said my wife. Without answering, I felt my way to the mat, and tying it up first at one end and then at the other, I shouldered it, and said to my wife, 'This trouble which has fallen upon me is more than I can bear. I am now going as a pilgrim to Mecca, and this will serve me as a kneeling mat.'

"I then went out, but she followed me entreating me to alter my mind. 'Don't go—don't leave your poor wife alone!' said she. But the neighbours said: 'Let the poor man alone. What use is he to you now?' So I got away from her.

"After I had gone two or three miles, the man inside the mat begun to struggle and shake. 'Shake away,' said I, 'you will have reason to shake soon. You think I am blind, but I am not.'

"I now approached a village, and the first thing I observed was a woman baking some bread of fine flour. When the cake was ready she took it inside the granary, where her lover was hiding, and she gave it to him. Then she came out and began baking bread of coarse barley-meal. Pretending to be a fakir I went up to her and said, 'Mother, make me some wheaten bread with a little butter.' She answered, "Where am I to get wheaten flour? Do you not see how poor I am?' I replied, 'Nay, but bake me some.' As we were disputing her husband came up and said, 'Don't quarrel, woman, with fakirs.' She answered, 'I am not quarrelling, but this man asks me for fine bread and butter. Did you ever get such a luxury?' When the husband heard this he was angry with me, and said, 'If a barley-cake will suit you take it. But if not, begone!' Then said I, pointing to the granary, 'They who sit in granaries eat fine bread, but beggars mustn't be choosers.' 'What's this about granaries?' cried he. 'This must be looked into.' So he went to the granary and there he found his wife's lover eating fine bread and butter. 'You