There lived, once upon a time, a man who was as rich as he could be; but as no happiness in this world is ever quite complete, he had an only son who was such a simpleton that he could barely add two and two together. At last his father determined to put up with his stupidity no longer, and giving him a purse full of gold, he sent him off to seek his fortune in foreign lands, mindful of the adage:

How much a fool that’s sent to roam
Excels a fool that stays at home.

Moscione, for this was the youth’s name, mounted a horse, and set out for Venice, hoping to find a ship there that would take him to Cairo. After he had ridden for some time he saw a man standing at the foot of a poplar tree, and said to him: ‘What’s your name, my friend; where do you come from, and what can you do?’

The man replied, ‘My name is Quick-as-Thought, I come from Fleet-town, and I can run like lightning.’

‘I should like to see you,’ returned Moscione.

‘Just wait a minute, then,’ said Quick-as-Thought, ‘and I will soon show you that I am speaking the truth.’

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a young doe ran right across the field they were standing in.

Quick-as-Thought let her run on a short distance, in order to give her a start, and then pursued her so quickly and so lightly that you could not have tracked his footsteps if the field had been strewn with flour. In a very few springs he had overtaken the doe, and had so impressed Moscione with his fleetness of foot that he begged Quick-as-Thought to go with him, promising at the same time to reward him handsomely.

Quick-as-Thought agreed to his proposal, and they continued on their journey together. They had hardly gone a mile when they met a young man, and Moscione stopped and asked him: ‘What’s your name, my friend; where do you come from, and what can you do?’

The man thus addressed answered promptly, ‘I am called Hare’s-ear, I come from Curiosity Valley, and if I lay my ear on the ground, without moving from the spot, I can hear everything that goes on in the world, the plots and intrigues of court and cottage, and all the plans of mice and men.’

‘If that’s the case,’ replied Moscione, ‘just tell me what’s going on in my own home at present.’

The youth laid his ear to the ground and at once reported: ‘An old man is saying to his wife, “Heaven be praised that we have got rid of Moscione, for perhaps, when he has been out in the world a little, he may gain some common sense, and return home less of a fool than when he set out.”’

‘Enough, enough,’ cried Moscione. ‘You speak the truth, and I believe you. Come with us, and your fortune’s made.’

The young man consented; and after they had gone about ten miles, they met a third man, to whom Moscione said: ‘What’s your name, my brave fellow; where were you born, and what can you do?’

The man replied, ‘I am called Hit-the-Point, I come from the city of Perfect-aim, and I draw my bow so exactly that I can shoot a pea off a stone.’

‘I should like to see you do it, if you’ve no objection,’ said Moscione.

The man at once placed a pea on a stone, and, drawing his bow, he shot it in the middle with the greatest possible ease.

When Moscione saw that he had spoken the truth, he immediately asked Hit-the-Point to join his party.

After they had all travelled together for some days, they came upon a number of people who were digging a trench in the blazing sun.

Moscione felt so sorry for them, that he said: ‘My dear friends, how can you endure working so hard in heat that would cook an egg in a minute?’

But one of the workmen answered: ‘We are as fresh as daisies, for we have a young man among us who blows on our backs like the west wind.’

‘Let me see him,’ said Moscione.

The youth was called, and Moscione asked him: ‘What’s your name; where do you come from, and what can you do?’

He answered: ‘I am called Blow-Blast, I come from Wind-town, and with my mouth I can make any winds you please. If you wish a west wind I can raise it for you in a second, but if you prefer a north wind I can blow these houses down before your eyes.’

‘Seeing is believing,’ returned the cautious Moscione.

Blow-Blast at once began to convince him of the truth of his assertion. First he blew so softly that it seemed like the gentle breeze at evening, and then he turned round and raised such a mighty storm, that he blew down a whole row of oak trees.

When Moscione saw this he was delighted, and begged Blow-Blast to join his company. And as they went on their way they met another man, whom Moscione addressed as usual: ‘What’s your name: where do you come from, and what can you do?’

‘I am called Strong-Back; I come from Power-borough, and I possess such strength tha............