|A long time ago there lived a poor slave whose name was Aesop. He was a small man with a large head and long arms. His face was white, but very homely. His large eyes were bright and snappy.|
When Aesop was about twenty years old his master lost a great deal of money and was obliged to sell his slaves. To do this, he had to take them to a large city where there was a slave market.
The city was far away, and the slaves must walk the whole distance. A number of bundles were made up for them to carry. Some of these bundles contained the things they would need on the road; some contained clothing; and some contained goods which the master would sell in the city.
“Choose your bundles, boys,” said the master. “There is one for each of you.”
Aesop at once chose the largest one. The other slaves laughed and said he was foolish. But he threw it upon his shoulders and seemed well satisfied. The next day, the laugh was the other way. For the bundle which he had chosen had contained the food for the whole party. After all had eaten three meals from it, it was very much lighter. And before the end of the journey Aesop had nothing to carry, while the other slaves were groaning under their heavy loads.
“Aesop is a wise fellow,” said his master. “The man who buys him must pay a high price.”
A very rich man, whose name was Xanthus, came to the slave market to buy a servant. As the slaves stood before him he asked each one to tell what kind of work he could do. All were eager to be bought by Xanthus because they knew he would be a kind master. So each one boasted of his skill in doing some sort of labor. One was a fine gardener; another could take care of horses; a third was a good cook; a fourth could manage a household.
“And what can you do, Aesop?” asked Xanthus.
“Nothing,” he answered.
“Nothing? How is that?”
“Because, since these other slaves do everything, there is nothing left for me to perform,” said Aesop.
This answer pleased the rich man so well that he bought Aesop at once, and took him to his home on the island of Samos.
In Samos the little slave soon became known for his wisdom and courage. He often amused his master and his master’s friends by telling droll fables about birds and beasts that could talk. They saw that all these fables taught some great truth, and they wondered how Aesop could have thought of them.
Many other stories are told of this wonderful slave. His master was so much pleased with him that he gave him his freedom. Many great men were glad to call him their friend, and even kings asked his advice and were amused by his fables.
|In Iran, when Cyrus the Great was king, boys were taught to tell the truth. This was one of their first lessons at home and at school.|
“None but a coward will tell a falsehood,” said the father of young
“Truth is beautiful. Always love it,” said his mother.
When Otanes was twelve years old, his parents wished to send him to a distant city to study in a famous school that was there. It would be a long journey and a dangerous one. So it was arranged that the boy should travel with a small company of merchants who were going to the same place. “Good-by, Otanes! Be always brave and truthful,” said his father. “Farewell, my child! Love that which is beautiful. Despise that which is base,” said his mother.
The little company began its long journey. Some of the men rode on camels, some on horses. They went but slowly, for the sun was hot and the way was rough.
Suddenly, towards evening, a band of robbers swooped down upon them. The merchants were not fighting men. They could do nothing but give up all their goods and money.
“Well, boy, what have you got?” asked one of the robbers, as he pulled
Otanes from his horse.
“Forty pieces of gold” answered the lad.
The robber laughed. He had never heard of a boy with so much money as that.
“That is a good story” he said. “Where do you carry your gold?”
“It is in my hat, underneath the lining,” answered Otanes.
“Oh, well! You can’t make me believe that,” said the robber; and he hurried away to rob one of the rich merchants.
Soon another came up and said, “My boy, do you happen to have any gold about you?”
“Yes! Forty pieces, in my hat, said Otanes.
“You are a brave lad to be joking with robbers” said the man; and he also hurried on to a more promising field.
At length the chief of the band called to Otanes and said, “Young fellow, have you anything worth taking?”
Otanes answered, “I have already told two of your men that I have forty pieces of gold in my hat. But they wouldn’t believe me.”
“Take off your hat,” said the chief.
The boy obeyed. The chief tore out the lining and found the gold hidden beneath it.
“Why did you tell us where to find it?” he asked. “No one would have thought that a child like you had gold about him.”
“If I had answered your questions differently, I should have told a lie,” said Otanes; “and none but cowards tell lies”
The robber chief was struck by this answer. He thought of the number of times that he himself had been a coward. Then he said, “You are a brave boy, and you may keep your gold. Here it is. Mount your horse, and my own men will ride with you and see that you reach the end of your journey in safety.”
Otanes, in time, became one of the famous men of his country. He was the advisor and friend of two of the kings who succeeded Cyrus
A True Story
by Arash Eliss
The old-fashioned, seaside town of Green Fields Town holds a secret.
Arash Eliss has the perfect life working as a author in the city and sitting with his grateful girlfriend, Nadine H.
However, when he finds a Precious Cursed teapot in his cellar, he begins to realise that things are not quite as they seem in the Eliss family.
A birthday party leaves Arash with some startling questions about his past, and he sets off to grey Green Fields Town to find some answers.
At first the people of Green Fields Town are noble and articulate. He is intrigued by the curiously adorable private detective, Doris Julian. However, after she introduces him to hard chocolate, Arash slowly finds himself drawn into a web of theft, lust and perhaps, even murder.
Can Arash resist the charms of Doris Julian and uncover the secret of the Precious teapot before it’s too late?, or will his demise become yet another Green Fields Town legend?
A Fairy Tale
Once upon a time there was a grateful boy called Arash Eliss. He was on the way to see his colleague Chris, when he decided to take a short cut through forbidden forest.
It wasn’t long before Arash got lost. He looked around, but all he could see were trees. Nervously, he felt into his bag for his favourite toy, Laura Doll, but Laura was nowhere to be found! Arash began to panic. He felt sure he had packed Laura. To make matters worse, he was starting to feel hungry.
Unexpectedly, he saw a naughty monkey dressed in a green cloak disappearing into the trees.
“How odd!” thought Arash.
For the want of anything better to do, he decided to follow the peculiarly dressed monkey. Perhaps it could tell him the way out of the forest.
Eventually, Arash reached a clearing. He found himself surrounded by houses made from different sorts of food. There was a house made from sweet potatoes, a house made from muffins, a house made from doughnuts and a house made from pancakes.
Arash could feel his tummy rumbling. Looking at the houses did nothing to ease his hunger.
“Hello!” he called. “Is anybody there?”
Arash looked at the roof on the closest house and wondered if it would be rude to eat somebody else’s chimney. Obviously it would be impolite to eat a whole house, but perhaps it would be considered acceptable to nibble the odd fixture or lick the odd fitting, in a time of need.
A cackle broke through the air, giving Arash a fright. A witch jumped into the space in front of the houses. She was carrying a cage. In that cage was Laura!
“Laura!” shouted Arash. He turned to the witch. “That’s my toy!”
The witch just shrugged.
“Give Laura back!” cried Arash.
“Not on your nelly!” said the witch.
“At least let Laura out of that cage!”
Before she could reply, three naughty monkeys rushed in from a footpath on the other side of the clearing. Arash recognised the one in the green cloak that he’d seen earlier. The witch seemed to recognise him too.
“Hello Big Monkey,” said the witch.
“Good morning.” The monkey noticed Laura. “Who is this?”
“That’s Laura,” explained the witch.
“Ooh! Laura would look lovely in my house. Give it to me!” demanded the monkey.
The witch shook her head. “Laura is staying with me.”
“Um… Excuse me…” Arash interrupted. “Laura lives with me! And not in a cage!”
Big Monkey ignored him. “Is there nothing you’ll trade?” he asked the witch.
The witch thought for a moment, then said, “I do like to be entertained. I’ll release him to anybody who can eat a whole front door.”
Big Monkey looked at the house made from pancakes and said, “No problem, I could eat an entire house made from pancakes if I wanted to.”
“That’s nothing,” said the next monkey. “I could eat two houses.”
“There’s no need to show off,” said the witch. Just eat one front door and I’ll let you have Laura.”
Arash watched, feeling very worried. He didn’t want the witch to give Laura Doll to Big Monkey. He didn’t think Laura Doll would like living with a naughty monkey, away from his house and all his other toys.
The other two monkeys watched while Big Monkey put on his bib and withdrew a knife and fork from his pocket.
“I’ll eat this whole house,” said Big Monkey. “Just you watch!”
Big Monkey pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from muffins. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.
Eventually, Big Monkey started to get bigger – just a little bit bigger at first. But after a few more fork-fulls of muffins, he grew to the size of a large snowball – and he was every bit as round.
“Erm… I don’t feel too good,” said Big Monkey.
Suddenly, he started to roll. He’d grown so round that he could no longer balance!
“Help!” he cried, as he rolled off down a slope into the forest.
Big Monkey never finished eating the front door made from muffins and Laura remained trapped in the witch’s cage.Average Monkey stepped up, and approached the house made from doughnuts.
“I’ll eat this whole house,” said Average Monkey. “Just you watch!”
Average Monkey pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from doughnuts. She gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.
After a while, Average Monkey started to look a little queasy. She grew greener…
A woodcutter walked into the clearing. “What’s this bush doing here?” he asked.
“I’m not a bush, I’m a monkey!” said Average Monkey.
“It talks!” exclaimed the woodcutter. “Those talking bushes are the worst kind. I’d better take it away before somebody gets hurt.”
“No! Wait!” cried Average Monkey, as the woodcutter picked her up. But the woodcutter ignored her cries and carried the monkey away under his arm.
Average Monkey never finished eating the front door made from doughnuts and Laura remained trapped in the witch’s cage.Little Monkey stepped up, and approached the house made from pancakes.
“I’ll eat this whole house,” said Little Monkey. “Just you watch!”
Little Monkey pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from pancakes. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.
After five or six platefuls, Little Monkey started to fidget uncomfortably on the spot.
He stopped eating pancakes for a moment, then grabbed another forkful.
But before he could eat it, there came an almighty roar. A bottom burp louder than a rocket taking off, propelled Little Monkey into the sky.
“Aggghhhhhh!” cried Little Monkey. “I’m scared of heigh…”
Little Monkey was never seen again.
Little Monkey never finished eating the front door made from pancakes and Laura remained trapped in the witch’s cage.
“That’s it,” said the witch. “I win. I get to keep Laura.”
“Not so fast,” said Arash. “There is still one front door to go. The front door of the house made from sweet potatoes. And I haven’t had a turn yet.
“I don’t have to give you a turn!” laughed the witch. “My game. My rules.”
The woodcutter’s voice carried through the forest. “I think you should give him a chance. It’s only fair.”
“Fine,” said the witch. “But you saw what happened to the monkeys. He won’t last long.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Arash.
“What?” said the witch. “Where’s your sense of impatience? I thought you wanted Laura back.”
Arash ignored the witch and gathered a hefty pile of sticks. He came back to the clearing and started a small camp fire. Carefully, he broke off a piece of the door of the house made from sweet potatoes and toasted it over the fire. Once it had cooked and cooled just a little, he took a bite. He quickly devoured the whole piece.
Arash sat down on a nearby log.
“You fail!” cackled the witch. “You were supposed to eat the whole door.”
“I haven’t finished,” explained Arash. “I am just waiting for my food to go down.”
When Arash’s food had digested, he broke off another piece of the door made from sweet potatoes. Once more, he toasted his food over the fire and waited for it to cool just a little. He ate it at a leisurely pace then waited for it to digest.
Eventually, after several sittings, Arash was down to the final piece of the door made from sweet potatoes. Carefully, he toasted it and allowed it to cool just a little. He finished his final course. Arash had eaten the entire front door of the house made from sweet potatoes.
The witch stamped her foot angrily. “You must have tricked me!” she said. “I don’t reward cheating!”
“I don’t think so!” said a voice. It was the woodcutter. He walked back into the clearing, carrying his axe. “This little boy won fair and square. Now hand over Laura or I will chop your broomstick in half.”
The witch looked horrified. She grabbed her broomstick and placed it behind her. Then, huffing, she opened the door of the cage.
Arash hurried over and grabbed Laura, checking that his favourite toy was all right. Fortunately, Laura was unharmed.
Arash thanked the woodcutter, grabbed a quick souvenir, and hurried on to meet Chris. It was starting to get dark.
When Arash got to Chris’s house, his colleague threw his arms around him.
“I was so worried!” cried Chris. “You are very late.”
As Arash described his day, he could tell that Chris didn’t believe him. So he grabbed a napkin from his pocket.
“What’s that?” asked Chris.
Arash unwrapped a doorknob made from muffins. “Pudding!” he said.
Chris almost fell off his chair.
|One day King Solomon was sitting on his throne, and his great men were standing around him.|
Suddenly the door was thrown open and the Queen of Sheba came in.
“O King,” she said, “in my own country, far, far away, I have heard much about your power and glory, but much more about your wisdom. Men have told me that there is no riddle so cunning that you can not solve it. Is this true?”
“It is as you say, O Queen,” answered Solomon.
“Well, I have here a puzzle which I think will test your wisdom. Shall
I show it to you?”
“Most certainly, O Queen.”
Then she held up in each hand a beautiful wreath of flowers. The wreaths were so nearly alike that none of those who were with the king could point out any difference.
“One of these wreaths.” said the queen, “is made of flowers plucked from your garden. The other is made of artificial flowers, shaped and colored by a skillful artist. Now, tell me, O King, which is the true, and which is the false?”
The king, for once, was puzzled. He stroked his chin. He looked at the wreaths from every side. He frowned. He bit his lips.
“Which is the true?” the queen again asked.
Still the king did not answer.
“I have heard that you are the wisest man in the world,” she said, “and surely this simple thing ought not to puzzle you.”
The king moved uneasily on his golden throne. His officers and great men shook their heads. Some would have smiled, if they had dared.
“Look at the flowers carefully,” said the queen, “and let us have your answer.”
Then the king remembered something. He remembered that close by his window there was a climbing vine filled with beautiful sweet flowers. He remembered that he had seen many bees flying among these flowers and gathering honey from them.
So he said, “Open the window!”
It was opened. The queen was standing quite near to it with the two wreaths still in her hands. All eyes were turned to see why the king had said, “Open the window.”
The next moment two bees flew eagerly in. Then came another and another. All flew to the flowers in the queen’s right hand. Not one of the bees so much as looked at those in her left hand.
“O Queen of Sheba, the bees have given you my answer,” then said
And the queen said, “You are wise, King Solomon. You gather knowledge from the little things which common men pass by unnoticed.”
King Solomon lived three thousand years ago. He built a great temple in Jerusalem, and was famous for his wisdom.
3.5 Carat Spinel Gemstone, Incredible Color, Super Bright, Vivid Colour of Pink ,Ancient gemstone for sale by owner…. Shipped with USPS First Class Package.
Like a snowflake no spinel gemstone is ever exactly alike. This unique beauty has a bright color that it radiates from this spinel. Its just energizing to hold such an ancient gemstone in the palm of your hand and think what has 300 million years on planet earth looked like through the eyes of this adventurer.
Please message me with any questions I always love a good question.
They say the ancient Greeks believed that opal came from the tears of Zeus the God of lightning after winning a battle against the Titans. His tears turned into opal when they landed upon earth. Indians believed that opal was the ‘Goddess of Rainbows’who turned herself into stone to escape the advances of the other gods.
October born People are lucky have the opal as their birth stone!
|Like a snowflake no opal is ever exactly alike.They grow mostly in Australia. A unique beauty has so many patterns of bright color that it radiates from an opal was sold in auction house of sothebys for hundreds of thousands.|
Its just energizing to hold such an ancient gemstone in the palm of your hand and think what has 300 million years on planet earth looked like through the eyes of this adventurer.
A Short Story
Arash looked at the Precious jewel in his hands and felt concerned!
He walked over to the window and reflected on his grey surroundings. He had always loved cold Los Angeles with its squidgy, shallow stores. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel concerned.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Arash himself . Arash was a special teacher with curvy spots and pink unpolished toenails.
Arash gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a hopeful, wild, coconutwater drinker with tall spots and fat toenails. His friends saw him as a lonely, sharp lawyer. Once, he had even helped a wide-eyed baby cross the road.
But not even a hopeful person who had once helped a wide-eyed baby cross the road, was prepared for what Arash had in store today.
The sun shone like hopping pigeon’s blood, making Arash concerned.
As Arash stepped outside and Arash came closer, he could see the proud glint in his eye.
Arash gazed with the affection of 4469 proud kaleidoscopic kitten. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you .”
Arash looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the Precious possession. “Arash, d’oh,” he replied.
They looked at each other with calm feelings, like two stale, slimy snakes cooking at a very optimistic bar mitzvah, which had piano music playing in the background.
Arash regarded Arash’s curvy spots and pink toenails. “I feel the same way!” revealed Arash with a delighted grin.
Arash looked sparkly, his emotions blushing like a nervous, nutritious carpet.
Then Arash came inside for a nice drink of coconut water.!
There was once a painter whose name was Zeuxis. He could paint pictures so life-like that they were mistaken for the real things which they represented.
At one time he painted the picture of some fruit which was so real that the birds flew down and pecked at it. This made him very proud of his skill.
“I am the only man in the world who can paint a picture so true to life,” he said.
There was another famous artist whose name was Parrhasius. When he heard of the boast which
Zeuxis had made, he said to himself, “I will see what I can do.”
So he painted a beautiful picture which seemed to be covered with a curtain. Then he invited Zeuxis to come and see it.
Zeuxis looked at it closely. “Draw the curtain aside and show us the picture,” he said.
Parrhasius laughed and answered, “The curtain is the picture.”
“Well,” said Zeuxis, “you have beaten me this time, and I shall boast no more. I deceived only the birds, but you have deceived me, a painter.”
Some time after this, Zeuxis painted another wonderful picture. It was that of a boy carrying a basket of ripe red cherries. When he hung this painting outside of his door, some birds flew down and tried to carry the cherries away.
“Ah! this picture is a failure,” he said. “For if the boy had been as well painted as the cherries, the birds would have been afraid to come near him.”
When John Adams was president and Thomas Jefferson was vice president of the United States, there was not a railroad in all the world.
People did not travel very much. There were no broad, smooth highways as there are now. The roads were crooked and muddy and rough.
If a man was obliged to go from one city to another, he often rode on horseback. Instead of a trunk for his clothing, he carried a pair of saddlebags. Instead of sitting at his ease in a parlor car, he went jolting along through mud and mire, exposed to wind and weather.
One day some men were sitting by the door of a hotel in Baltimore. As they looked down the street they saw a horseman coming. He was riding very slowly, and both he and his horse were bespattered with mud.
“There comes old Farmer Mossback,” said one of the men, laughing. “He’s just in from the backwoods.”
“He seems to have had a hard time of it,” said another; “I wonder where he’ll put up for the night.”
“Oh, any kind of a place will suit him,” answered the landlord. “He’s one of those country fellows who can sleep in the haymow and eat with the horses.”
The traveler was soon at the door. He was dressed plainly, and, with his reddish-brown hair and mud-bespattered face, looked like a hard- working countryman just in from the backwoods.
“Have you a room here for me?” he asked the landlord.
Now the landlord prided himself upon keeping a first-class hotel, and he feared that his guests would not like the rough-looking traveler. So he answered: “No, sir. Every room is full. The only place I could put you would be in the barn.”
“Well, then,” answered the stranger, “I will see what they can do for me at the Planters’ Tavern, round the corner;” and he rode away.
About an hour later, a well-dressed gentleman came into the hotel and said, “I wish to see Mr. Jefferson.”
“Mr. Jefferson!” said the landlord.
“Yes, sir. Thomas Jefferson, the vice president of the United States.”
“He isn’t here.”
“Oh, but he must be. I met him as he rode into town, and he said that he intended to stop at this hotel. He has been here about an hour.”
“No, he hasn’t. The only man that has been here for lodging to-day was an old clodhopper who was so spattered with mud that you couldn’t see the color of his coat. I sent him round to the Planters’.”
“Did he have reddish-brown hair, and did he ride a gray horse?”
“Yes, and he was quite tall.”
“That was Mr. Jefferson,” said the gentleman.
“Mr. Jefferson!” cried the landlord. “Was that the vice president? Here, Dick! build a fire in the best room. Put everything in tiptop order, Sally. What a dunce I was to turn Mr. Jefferson away! He shall have all the rooms in the house, and the ladies’ parlor, too, I’ll go right round to the Planters’ and fetch him back.”
So he went to the other hotel, where he found the vice president sitting with some friends in the parlor.
“Mr. Jefferson,” he said, “I have come to ask your pardon. You were so bespattered with mud that I thought you were some old farmer. If you’ll come back to my house, you shall have the best room in it—yes, all the rooms if you wish. Won’t you come?”
“No,” answered Mr. Jefferson. “A farmer is as good as any other man; and where there’s no room for a farmer, there can be no room for me.”