JOHN BIT-OF-A-MAN

A STORY OF THE DISTRICT OF METZ

ONCE there was a woman who had a little son who was extremely small; so very small that she named him John Bit-of-a-man. One day she called him to her and said,—

“Come, take this to your father who is working down there in the fields, and when you get to him, say: ‘See, father! here is your buttered roll!’”

“I will, mother,” said John Bit-of-a-man; and all along the way he repeated the words so as not to forget them: “See, father! here is your buttered roll; see, father! here is your buttered roll!”

When he reached his father, who was occupied in repairing the ditches, he took up his refrain: “See, father! here is your buttered roll.”

The good man, hearing some one speak, looked around him on every side, but saw no one; at last, however, he spied little John Bit-of-a-man in the grass at his feet.

“Ah!” said he, “it is you, is it? What do you want?”

“I have brought you a buttered roll,” said John Bit-of-a-man.

“You are very good, my child, to bring me this buttered roll;” and taking it in his hands he ate it all up, without offering John Bit-of-a-man a mite.

“The glutton! he did not give me any! The glutton! he did not give me any!” groaned John Bit-of-a-man.

Some time after that, a lord passed by. He called to the laborer. “You have a pretty little boy; will you sell him to me?”

“I will, gladly.”

“How much will you take?”

“A hundred crowns.”

“A hundred crowns you shall have.”

The bargain concluded, the lord put John Bit-of-a-man in his pocket and went on his way. At the end of an hour, the child put his head out of the pocket and begged his master to put him down on the ground for a moment as he felt faint. The lord was good enough to listen to him, and in a moment John Bit-of-a-man glided under a heap of leaves and his master could not find him. John Bit-of-a-man, being free once more, went back to his father.

A few days after that, the lord again passed by the laborer, who was still repairing the ditches. “You have a pretty little boy there,” said he; “will you sell him to me?”

“I will, gladly.”

“How much will you take?”

“A hundred crowns.”

“A hundred crowns you shall have.”

The bargain concluded, the lord clapped John Bit-of-a-man into his pocket. At the end of an hour the child put his head out of the pocket and begged his master to put him down on the ground awhile as he felt cramped.

“Well, stay in my pocket and be cramped!” said the lord, who remembered how he had been caught before.

When he reached his castle, he took John Bit-of-a-man out of his pocket and put him in a basket which he suspended from the kitchen ceiling, and told him to watch everything he saw going on, and tell him faithfully all that he saw.

John Bit-of-a-man agreed to do this, and each day he told his master all that he saw and heard.

One day our hero leaned his little head over the edge of the basket, so he could see around him, and a servant saw him and said to him,—

“So it is you who watch us, you little wretch! It is you who tell the master all that happens! Very well! you shall pay for it!”

Amid the applause of his companions, the servant took down the basket, seized the poor little fellow by the hair, and threw him into the horse-trough. That same day an ox went there to drink, and swallowed him whole.

At the end of a week, the lord had the ox killed for a great feast that he made; the entrails were thrown out into the road. An old woman passing by saw the entrails. “Oh! what splendid entrails! What a pity to throw them away!” and so saying, she clapped them into the basket which she carried on her back. She had not taken many steps, when she heard a noise that came from her basket saying,—

The old woman threw down her basket, and ran away frightened.

A hungry wolf came along who seized on the entrails with avidity, and John Bit-of-a-man was once more swallowed alive.

As the wolf was crossing the plain, he heard a voice which came from the inside of his body cry out,—

“Help! shepherd! help! here is the wolf that devours your sheep.”

“Be quiet! you cursed stomach; be quiet! cursed stomach!” said the wolf in desperation.

“I will not hold my tongue until you have put me down at my father’s door,” answered John Bit-of-a-man.

“Very well; I will go there,” said the wolf.

When they got there, John Bit-of-a-man got out of the wolf’s stomach, and ran quickly into the house, passing by the cat’s hole; at the same moment, seizing the wolf by the tail, he cried, “Come, father, come, I have got the wolf by the tail.” His father ran to him, killed the wolf with one stroke of his axe, and sold his skin.

Restored to his home again, John Bit-of-a-man lived ever after happy and peaceful.

Told by Madam Richet, aged 77, at Woippy, near Metz.

Nérée Quepat.