1 - About the little bus who was afraid of the dark
Donald Bisset 
A fairy tale about how mother bus taught her little bus not to be afraid of the dark... About the little bus who was afraid of the dark read Once upon a time there was a little bus in the world. He was bright red and lived with his dad and mom in the garage. Every morning …
2 - Three kittens
Suteev V.G. 
A short fairy tale for the little ones about three fidgety kittens and their funny adventures. Little children love short stories with pictures, which is why Suteev’s fairy tales are so popular and loved! Three kittens read Three kittens - black, gray and...
3 - Hedgehog in the fog
Kozlov S.G. 
A fairy tale about a Hedgehog, how he was walking at night and got lost in the fog. He fell into the river, but someone carried him to the shore. It was a magical night! Hedgehog in the fog read Thirty mosquitoes ran out into the clearing and began to play...
4 - Apple
Suteev V.G. 
A fairy tale about a hedgehog, a hare and a crow who could not divide the last apple among themselves. Everyone wanted to take it for themselves. But the fair bear judged their dispute, and each got a piece of the treat... Apple read It was late...
5 - Black Pool
Kozlov S.G. 
A fairy tale about a cowardly Hare who was afraid of everyone in the forest. And he was so tired of his fear that he decided to drown himself in the Black Pool. But he taught the Hare to live and not be afraid! Black Whirlpool read Once upon a time there was a Hare...
6 - About the Hippopotamus, who was afraid of vaccinations
Suteev V.G. 
A fairy tale about a cowardly hippopotamus who ran away from the clinic because he was afraid of vaccinations. And he fell ill with jaundice. Luckily, he was taken to the hospital and treated. And the hippopotamus became very ashamed of his behavior... About the Hippopotamus, who was afraid...
7 - In the sweet carrot forest
Kozlov S.G. 
A fairy tale about what forest animals love most. And one day everything happened as they dreamed. In the sweet carrot forest read The hare loved carrots most of all. He said: - I would like it in the forest...
8 - Baby and Carlson
Astrid Lindgren
A short story about the kid and the prankster Carlson, adapted by B. Larin for children. Kid and Carlson read This story actually happened. But, of course, it happened far from you and me - in Swedish...
I don’t remember exactly what year it was. For a whole month I hunted with enthusiasm, with wild joy, with that ardor that you bring to new passions.
I lived in Normandy, with a single relative, Jules de Banneville, in his family castle, alone with him, with his maid, footman and watchman. A dilapidated building surrounded by groaning fir trees in the center of long oak alleys along which the wind rushed; the castle seemed long abandoned. In the corridor, where the wind blew like in the alleys of a park, hung portraits of all those people who had once ceremoniously received noble neighbors in these rooms, now locked and filled with only antique furniture.
As for us, we simply ran into the kitchen, where there was only room for living, a huge kitchen, the dark corners of which were illuminated only when a new armful of wood was thrown into the huge fireplace. Every evening we dozed sweetly by the fireplace, in front of which our wet boots smoked, and the hunting dogs curled up at our feet barked in their sleep, seeing the hunt again; then we went upstairs to our room.
It was the only room, all the walls and ceiling of which were carefully plastered because of mice. But, whitewashed with lime, it remained bare, and only guns, arapniks and hunting horns hung on its walls; teeth chattering from the cold, we climbed into bed, standing on both sides of this Siberian dwelling.
At a distance of one league from the castle the sheer bank fell into the sea; from the powerful breath of the ocean, tall bent trees moaned day and night, roofs and weather vanes creaked as if with a cry, and the entire venerable building cracked, filling with the wind through thinning tiles, through fireplaces wide as an abyss, through windows that no longer closed.
It was bitterly cold that day. Evening came. We were going to sit down at the table in front of the high fireplace, where a hare's back and two partridges were roasting on a bright fire, emitting a delicious smell.
My cousin looked up.
“It won’t be hot to sleep today,” he said.
I replied indifferently:
- Yes, but tomorrow morning there will be ducks on the ponds.
The maid, who was setting the table for us at one end and for the servants at the other, asked:
- Do gentlemen know that today is Christmas Eve?
Of course, we didn’t know because we almost never looked at the calendar. My friend said:
“So there will be a night mass today.” So that's why they kept calling all day!
The maid answered:
- Yes and no, sir; They also called because Uncle Fournel had died.
Uncle Fournel, an old shepherd, was a local celebrity. He was ninety-six years old and had never been ill until a month ago when he caught a cold after falling into a swamp on a dark night. The next day he fell ill and since then has been on the verge of death.
My cousin turned to me:
“If you want, let’s go now and visit these poor people.”
He meant the old man's family - his fifty-eight-year-old grandson and his grandson's fifty-seven-year-old wife. The intermediate generation has long since died. They huddled in a miserable shack, at the entrance to the village, to the right.
I don’t know why, but the thought of Christmas in this wilderness put us in the mood to chat. We vied with each other to tell each other all sorts of stories about previous Christmas Eves, about our adventures on this crazy night, about past successes with women and about awakenings the next day - awakenings together, accompanied by surprise at this and risky surprises.
Thus, our lunch was delayed. Having finished with him, we smoked many pipes and, overwhelmed by the gaiety of hermits, the cheerful sociability that suddenly arises between two bosom friends, we continued to talk incessantly, going over in conversation the most intimate memories that are shared in hours of such closeness.
The maid, who had long since left us, appeared again:
“Sir, I’m leaving for mass.”
- Quarter past eleven.
- Shouldn't we go to church? – asked Jules. – Christmas mass is very interesting in the village.
I agreed, and we set off, wrapped in fur hunting jackets.
The severe frost stung my face and made my eyes water. The air was so cold that it took your breath away and your throat dried out. The deep, clear and stern sky was dotted with stars, they seemed to have turned pale from frost and flickered not like lights, but like sparkling pieces of ice, like shiny crystals. In the distance, on the ringing, dry and echoing earth, like copper, peasant clogs were ringing, and all around small village bells were ringing, sending their liquid and seemingly also chilly sounds into the freezing expanse of the night.
There was no sleep in the village. The roosters crowing, deceived by all these sounds, and passing by the barns, one could hear the animals moving, awakened by this roar of life.
Approaching the village, Jules remembered the Fournels.
“Here is their shack,” he said, “let’s go in!”
He knocked for a long time, but in vain. Finally, a neighbor saw us, leaving the house to go to church.
“They went to matins, gentlemen, to pray for the old man.”
“So we’ll see them when we leave the church,” Jules told me.
The setting moon stood out like a crescent on the edge of the horizon amid an endless scattering of sparkling grains thrown into space. And trembling lights moved across the black plain, heading from everywhere towards the incessantly ringing pointed bell tower. Across tree-lined farms, through dark valleys, these lights flashed everywhere, almost touching the ground. They were lanterns made from cow horns. Peasants walked with them ahead of their wives, dressed in white caps and wide black capes, accompanied by awakened children who held their hands.
A lighted pulpit could be seen through the open door of the church. A garland of cheap candles illuminated the middle of the church, and in its left aisle the plump wax baby Jesus, lying on real straw, among fir branches, flaunted his pink, cutesy nakedness.
The service has begun. The peasants bowed their heads and the women knelt and prayed. These simple people, rising into the cold night, looked movedly at the crudely painted image and folded their hands, looking with naive timidity at the wretched luxury of this childish performance.
The cold air shook the flames of the candles. Jules told me:
- Let's get out of here! It's still better outside.
Heading home along a deserted road, while the kneeling peasants shivered piously in the church, we again indulged in our memories and talked for so long that the service had already ended when we arrived back at the village.
A thin strip of light stretched from under the Fournels' door.
“They are watching over the dead,” said my cousin. “Let’s finally go see these poor people, it will make them happy.”
Several firebrands were burning in the hearth. The dark room, whose greasy walls were shiny, and whose worm-eaten beams were blackened with age, was full of the suffocating smell of fried blood sausage. On the large table, from under which a bread chest protruded like a huge belly, a candle was burning in a twisted iron candlestick; acrid smoke from the wick burned by the mushroom rose to the ceiling. The Fournels, husband and wife, broke their fast in private.
Gloomy, with a dejected look and dull peasant faces, they ate in concentration, without uttering a word. On the single plate standing between them lay a large piece of blood sausage, spreading a foul steam. From time to time, with the end of a knife, they cut a circle from it, put it on the bread and began to chew slowly.
When the husband's glass was empty, the wife took the jug and filled it with cider.
When we appeared, they stood up, sat us down, invited us to “follow their example,” and after our refusal they began to eat again.
A long time ago there lived a happy family: a father, a mother and their only daughter, whom her parents loved very much. They lived carefree and joyfully for many years.
Unfortunately, one autumn, when the girl was sixteen years old, her mother became seriously ill and died a week later. A deep sadness reigned in the house.
Two years have passed. The girl's father met a widow who had two daughters, and soon married her.
From day one, the stepmother hated her stepdaughter.
Tales of Gianni Rodari - The Adventures of Cipollino
Cipollino was the son of Cipollone. And he had seven brothers: Cipolletto, Cipollotto, Cipolloccia, Cipolluccia and so on - the most suitable names for an honest onion family. They were good people, I must say frankly, but they were just unlucky in life.
What can you do: where there are onions, there are tears.
Cipollone, his wife and sons lived in a wooden shack slightly larger than a garden seedling box. If rich people happened to find themselves in these places, they wrinkled their noses with displeasure and grumbled: “Ugh, he’s carrying onions!” - and ordered the coachman to go faster.
One day, the ruler of the country himself, Prince Lemon, was going to visit the poor outskirts. The courtiers were terribly worried whether the onion smell would hit His Highness's nose.
What will the prince say when he smells this poverty?
You can spray the poor with perfume! - suggested the Senior Chamberlain.
Fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm - Snow White
It was in winter. Snowflakes fell like fluff from the sky, and the queen sat by the window with a black frame and sewed. She looked at the snow and pricked her finger with a needle, and three drops of blood fell onto the snow. The red drops on the white snow looked so beautiful that the queen thought to herself: “If only I had a child, white as this snow and ruddy as blood, with hair as black as the wood on the window frame!”
And the queen soon gave birth to a daughter, and she was white as snow, red as blood, and her hair was like ebony. And they called her Snow White. And when the child was born, the queen died.
A year later the king took another wife. She was beautiful, but proud and arrogant, and could not stand it when anyone surpassed her in beauty. She had a magic mirror, she often stood in front of it and asked:
- Who is the cutest in the world?
All blush and whiter?
Ch. Perrault "Puss in Boots"
One miller, dying, left his three sons a mill, a donkey and a cat. The brothers divided the inheritance themselves and did not go to court: the greedy judges would take away the last.
The eldest received a mill, the middle one received a donkey, and the youngest received a cat.
For a long time, the younger brother could not console himself - he inherited a pitiful inheritance.
“Good for the brothers,” he said. “They will live together and earn an honest living.” And I? Well, I’ll eat the cat, well, I’ll sew mittens from its skin. What next? Die of hunger?
The Cat pretended as if he had not heard anything, and with an important look said to the owner:
- Stop grieving. It would be better if you gave me a bag and a pair of boots to walk in the bushes and swamps in, and then we’ll see if you’ve been deprived as much as you think.
The owner didn’t believe him at first, but remembered what tricks the Cat comes up with when he catches mice and rats: he hangs upside down on his paws and buries himself in flour. Maybe such a scoundrel will really help out the owner. So he gave the Cat everything he asked for.
The cat dashingly pulled on his boots, threw the bag over his shoulders and went into the bushes where the rabbits were. He put hare cabbage in a bag, pretended to be dead, lay there and wait. Not all rabbits know what tricks there are in the world. Someone will climb into the bag to eat.
No sooner had the Cat stretched out on the ground than his wish came true. The trusting little rabbit climbed into the bag, the Cat pulled the strings, and the trap slammed shut.
Proud of his prey, the Cat walked straight into the palace and asked to be taken to the king himself.
Entering the royal chambers, the Cat bowed low and said:
- Sovereign! The Marquis of Karabas (the Cat came up with this name for the owner) ordered me to present this rabbit to Your Majesty.
“Thank your master,” replied the king, “and tell me that his gift is to my taste.”
Another time, the Cat hid in a field of wheat, opened the bag, waited for two partridges to come in, pulled the strings and caught them. He again brought the booty to the palace. The king happily accepted the partridges and ordered wine to be poured for the Cat.
For two or three whole months, the Cat did nothing but bring gifts to the king from the Marquis of Carabas.
One day the Cat heard that the king was going for a walk along the river bank and was taking with him his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world.
“Well,” said the Cat to the owner, “if you want to be happy, listen to me.” Swim where I tell you. The rest is my concern.
The owner listened to the Cat, although he did not know what would come of it. He calmly climbed into the water, and the Cat waited until the king came closer and shouted:
- Save me! Help! Ah, Marquis Karabas! He'll drown now!
The king heard his cry, looked out of the carriage, recognized the very Cat who brought him tasty game, and ordered the servants to rush as fast as they could to help the Marquis of Karabas.
The poor marquis was still being pulled out of the water, and the Cat, having approached the carriage, had already managed to tell the king how thieves came and stole all his owner’s clothes while he was swimming, and how he, the Cat, screamed at them with all his might and called for help . (In fact, the clothes were not visible: the rascal hid them under a large stone.)
The king ordered his courtiers to take out the best royal outfits and present them with a bow to the Marquis of Karabas.
As soon as the miller's son put on beautiful clothes, the king's daughter immediately liked him. The young man liked her too. He never thought that there were such beautiful princesses in the world.
In short, the young people fell in love with each other at first sight.
To this day, no one knows whether the king noticed this or not, but he immediately invited the Marquis of Carabas to get into the carriage and ride together.
The cat was glad that everything was going as he wanted, overtook the carriage, saw the peasants mowing hay, and said:
- Hey, well done mowers! Either you tell the king that this meadow belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, or every last one of you will be cut into pieces and turned into cutlets!
The king actually asked whose meadow this was.
- Marquise of Karabas! - trembling with fear, the peasants answered.
“You have inherited a wonderful inheritance,” the king said to the marquis.
“As you can see, Your Majesty,” answered the Marquis of Karabas. “If only you knew how much hay is cut from this meadow every year.”
And the Cat kept running ahead. He met the reapers and said to them:
- Hey, well done reapers! Either you will say that these fields belong to the Marquis of Karabas, or every single one of you will be cut into pieces and turned into cutlets!
The king, passing by, wanted to know whose fields these were.
- Marquise of Karabas! — the reapers answered in unison.
And the king, together with the marquis, rejoiced at the rich harvest.
So the Cat ran ahead of the carriage and taught everyone he met how to answer the king. The king did nothing but marvel at the wealth of the Marquis of Carabas.
Meanwhile, the Cat ran to a beautiful castle where the Ogre lived, so rich that no one had ever seen. He was the real owner of the meadows and fields past which the king rode.
The cat has already managed to find out who this Ogre is and what he can do. He asked to be taken to the Ogre, bowed low to him and said that he could not pass by such a castle without meeting its famous owner.
The ogre received him with all the politeness that can be expected from an ogre, and invited the Cat to rest from the road.
“There are rumors,” said the Cat, “that you can turn into any animal, for example, a lion, an elephant...
- Gossip? - The Ogre grumbled. “I’ll take it and become a lion right before your eyes.”
The cat was so frightened when he saw the lion in front of him that he immediately found himself on the drainpipe, although climbing onto the roof in boots is not at all easy.
When the Ogre returned to his former form, the Cat came down from the roof and admitted how scared he was.
- Impossible? - the Ogre roared. - So look!
And at that very moment the Ogre seemed to fall through the ground, and a mouse ran across the floor. The cat himself didn’t notice how he grabbed it and ate it.
Meanwhile, the king arrived at the beautiful castle of the Ogre and wished to enter there.
The Cat heard a carriage thunder on the drawbridge, jumped out and said:
- You are welcome, Your Majesty, to the castle of the Marquis of Carabas!
“What, Mister Marquis,” exclaimed the king, “is the castle yours too?” What a yard, what buildings! There is probably no more beautiful castle in the world! Let's go there, please.
The Marquis gave his hand to the young princess, following the king they entered the huge hall and found a magnificent dinner on the table. The Ogre prepared it for his friends. But when they learned that the king was in the castle, they were afraid to come to the table.
The king admired the Marquis himself and his extraordinary wealth so much that after five, or maybe six glasses of excellent wine, he said:
- That's it, Mister Marquis. It depends only on you whether you marry my daughter or not.
The Marquis was delighted by these words even more than by the unexpected wealth, thanked the king for the great honor and, of course, agreed to marry the most beautiful princess in the world.
The wedding was celebrated on the same day.
After this, the Cat became a very important gentleman and catches mice only for fun.
Brothers Grimm "The Thrush King"
There was a king who had a daughter; she was extraordinarily beautiful, but at the same time so proud and arrogant that none of the suitors seemed good enough for her. She refused one after another and, moreover, laughed at each one.
One day the king ordered a big feast and called suitors from everywhere, from near and far, who would like to woo her. They placed them all in a row in order, according to rank and title; in front stood the kings, then the dukes, princes, counts and barons, and finally the nobles.
And they led the princess through the rows, but in each of the suitors she found some kind of flaw. One was too fat. “Yes, this one is like a wine barrel!” - she said. The other one was too long. “Long, too thin, and doesn’t have a stately gait!” - she said. The third one was too short. “Well, what luck is there in him if he’s small and fat to boot?” The fourth one was too pale. "This one looks like death." The fifth one was too rosy. “It’s just some kind of turkey!” The sixth one was too young. “This one is young and painfully green; like a damp tree, it will not catch fire.”
And so she found in everyone something to find fault with, but she especially laughed at one good king, who was taller than the others and whose chin was a little crooked.
“Wow,” she said and laughed, “he’s got a chin like a thrush’s beak!” - And from then on they called him Thrush.
When the old king saw that his daughter knew only one thing, that she mocked people and refused all the gathered suitors, he became angry and swore that she would have to take as her husband the first beggar she met that knocked on his door.
A few days later, a musician appeared and began to sing under the window to earn alms for himself. The king heard this and said:
- Let him go upstairs.
The musician entered in his dirty, tattered clothes and began to sing a song in front of the king and his daughter; and when he finished, he asked for alms.
The king said:
- I liked your singing so much that I will give you my daughter as a wife.
The princess was frightened, but the king said:
“I swore an oath to marry you to the first beggar I came across, and I must keep my oath.”
And no persuasion helped; they called the priest, and she had to immediately marry the musician. When this was done, the king said:
“Now, as a beggar’s wife, it is not appropriate for you to stay in my castle; you can go with your husband wherever you want.”
The beggar led her by the hand out of the castle, and she had to walk with him. They came to a dense forest, and she asked:
—Whose forests and meadows are these?
- This is all about King Thrush.
- Oh, what a pity that you can’t
I need to return Drozdovik!
They walked through the fields, and she asked again:
- Whose fields and river are these?
- This is all about King Thrush!
If I hadn’t driven him away, then everything would have been yours.
- Oh, what a pity that you can’t
I need to return Drozdovik!
They then walked through the big city, and she asked again:
- Whose beautiful city is this?
—- He has been the Thrush King for a long time.
If I hadn’t driven him away, everything would have been yours then.
- Oh, what a pity that you can’t
I need to return Drozdovik!
“I don’t like it at all,” said the musician, “that you keep wanting someone else to be your husband: aren’t I dear to you?”
They finally approached a small hut, and she said:
- My God, what a little house!
Why is he so bad?
And the musician replied:
- This is my house and yours, we will live here with you together.
And she had to bend down to enter the low door.
-Where are the servants? - asked the princess.
-What kind of servants are they? - answered the beggar. “You have to do everything yourself if you want anything done.” Come on, quickly light the stove and put on the water so I can cook dinner, I’m very tired.
But the princess did not know how to light a fire and cook, and the beggar had to get to work himself; and things worked out somehow. They ate something from hand to mouth and went to bed.
But as soon as it began to get light, he kicked her out of bed, and she had to do her homework. They lived like this for several days, neither bad nor good, and ate all their supplies. Then the husband says:
“Wife, we won’t succeed this way, we eat but don’t earn anything.” Let's start weaving baskets.
He went and cut willow twigs, brought them home, and she began to weave, but the hard twigs wounded her tender hands.
“I see this won’t work out for you,” said the husband, “you’d better grab the yarn, perhaps you can handle it.”
She sat down and tried to spin yarn; but the rough threads cut into her tender fingers, and blood flowed from them.
“You see,” said the husband, “you are not fit for any work, I will have a hard time with you.” I'll try to get into the pot and pottery trade. You will have to go to the market and sell goods.
“Oh,” she thought, “why, people from our kingdom will come to the market and see me sitting and selling pots, then they will laugh at me!”
But what was to be done? She had to obey, otherwise they would have to starve.
The first time things went well - people bought goods from her because she was beautiful, and paid her what she asked for; even many paid her money and left the pots for her. This is how they lived on it.
My husband again bought a lot of new clay pots. She sat down with the pots on the corner of the market, placed the goods around her and began to trade. But suddenly a drunken hussar galloped up, ran straight into the pots - and only shards remained of them. She began to cry and out of fear did not know what to do now.
- Oh, what will happen to me for this! - she exclaimed. - What will my husband tell me?
And she ran home and told him about her grief.
- Who sits on the corner of the market with pottery? - said the husband. - Stop crying; I see you are not fit for a decent job. Just now I was in our king’s castle and asked if a scullery maid would be needed there, and they promised to hire you; there they will feed you for it.
And the queen became a dishwasher, she had to help the cook and do the most menial work. She tied two bowls to her bag and brought home in them what she got from the scraps - that’s what they ate.
It happened that at that time the wedding of the eldest prince was to be celebrated, and so the poor woman went upstairs to the castle and stood at the door to the hall to take a look. So the candles were lit, and the guests entered, one more beautiful than the other, and everything was full of pomp and splendor. And she thought with sorrow in her heart about her evil lot and began to curse her pride and arrogance, which had humiliated her so much and plunged her into great poverty. She heard the smell of expensive dishes that the servants brought in and took out from the hall, and they sometimes threw some of the leftovers to her, she put them in her bowl, intending to take it all home later.
Suddenly the prince came in, he was dressed in velvet and silk, and he had gold chains around his neck. Seeing a beautiful woman at the door, he grabbed her hand and wanted to dance with her; but she got scared and began to refuse - she recognized him as King Thrush, who had wooed her and whom she mockingly refused. But no matter how she resisted, he still dragged her into the hall; and suddenly the ribbon on which her bag was hanging broke, and bowls fell out of it onto the floor and soup spilled.
When the guests saw this, they all began to laugh and make fun of her, and she was so ashamed that she was ready to sink into the ground. She rushed to the door and wanted to run away, but a man caught up with her on the stairs and brought her back. She looked at him, and it was King Thrush. He said to her affectionately:
“Don’t be afraid, because I and the musician with whom you lived in a poor hut are one and the same.” It was I, out of love for you, who pretended to be a musician; and the hussar who broke all your pots was me too. I did all this to break your pride and punish you for your arrogance when you laughed at me.
She cried bitterly and said:
“I was so unfair that I am unworthy to be your wife.”
But he told her:
- Calm down, the difficult days are over, and now we will celebrate our wedding.
And the royal maids appeared and dressed her in magnificent dresses; and her father came, and with him the whole courtyard; they wished her happiness in her marriage to King Thrush; and the real joy has only now begun.
And I would like you and I to visit there too.
H. K. Andersen “Flint”
A soldier was walking along the road: one-two! one-two! A satchel behind his back, a saber at his side. He was on his way home from the war. And suddenly he met a witch on the road. The witch was old and scary. Her lower lip hung down to her chest.
- Hello, serviceman! - said the witch. - What a nice saber and big backpack you have! What a brave soldier! And now you will have plenty of money.
“Thank you, old witch,” said the soldier.
- Do you see that big tree over there? - said the witch. - It's empty inside. Climb the tree, there's a hollow up there. Climb into this hollow and go down to the very bottom. And I will tie a rope around your waist and pull you back as soon as you scream.
- Why should I climb into this hollow? - asked the soldier.
“For money,” said the witch, “this is not a simple tree.” When you go down to the very bottom, you will see a long underground passage. It’s very light there—hundreds of lamps burn day and night. Walk, without turning, along the underground passage. And when you reach the end, there will be three doors right in front of you. There is a key in every door. Turn it and the door will open. In the first room there is a large chest. A dog is sitting on the chest. This dog's eyes are like two tea saucers. But don't be afraid. I'll give you my blue checkered apron, spread it on the floor and feel free to grab the dog. If you grab it, quickly put it on my apron. Well, then open the chest and take as much money from it as you want. Yes, only this chest contains only copper money. And if you want silver, go to the second room. And there is a chest there. And on that chest sits a dog. Her eyes are like your mill wheels. Just don’t be scared - grab her and put her on the apron, and then take the silver money for yourself. Well, if you want gold, go to the third room. In the middle of the third room there is a chest filled to the top with gold. This chest is guarded by the biggest dog. Each eye is the size of a tower. If you manage to put her on my apron, you will be lucky: the dog will not touch you. Then take as much gold as your heart desires!
“This is all very good,” said the soldier. - But what will you take from me for this, old witch? After all, you need something from me.
- I won’t take a penny from you! - said the witch. “Just bring me the old flint that my grandmother forgot down there the last time she climbed there.”
- Okay, tie a rope around me! - said the soldier.
- Ready! - said the witch. “Here’s my checkered apron for you.”
And the soldier climbed the tree. He found a hollow and went down it to the very bottom. As the witch said, this is how it all turned out: the soldier looks - there is an underground passage in front of him. And it’s as bright as day there—hundreds of lamps are burning. The soldier walked through this dungeon. He walked and walked and reached the very end. There is nowhere to go further. The soldier sees three doors in front of him. And the keys are sticking out in the doors.
The soldier opened the first door and entered the room. There is a chest in the middle of the room, and a dog is sitting on the chest. Her eyes are like two tea saucers. The dog looks at the soldier and turns his eyes in different directions.
- What a monster! - said the soldier, grabbed the dog and instantly put it on the witch’s apron.
Then the dog calmed down, and the soldier opened the chest and let’s take the money out of there. He filled his pockets full of copper money, closed the chest and again put the dog on it, and he went into another room.
The witch told the truth - and in this room there was a dog sitting on a chest. Her eyes were like mill wheels.
- Well, why are you staring at me? Don't let your eyes pop out! - said the soldier, grabbed the dog and put him on the witch’s apron, and he quickly went to the chest.
The chest is full of silver. The soldier threw the copper money out of his pockets and filled both pockets and his backpack with silver. Then the soldier entered the third room.
He walked in and his mouth dropped open. What miracles! In the middle of the room stood a golden chest, and on the chest sat a real monster. The eyes are like two towers. They spun like the wheels of the fastest carriage.
- I wish you good health! - said the soldier and lifted his visor. He had never seen such a dog before.
However, he didn’t look for long. He grabbed the dog, put it on the witch’s apron, and opened the chest. Fathers, how much gold there was here! With this gold one could buy the entire capital city, all the toys, all the tin soldiers, all the wooden horses and all the gingerbread cookies in the world. There would be enough for everything.
Here the soldier threw silver money out of his pockets and backpack and began to rake gold out of the chest with both hands. He filled his pockets with gold, his satchel, his hat, his boots. I collected so much gold that I could barely move from my spot!
Now he was rich!
He put the dog on the chest, slammed the door and shouted:
- Hey, take me upstairs, old witch!
-Did you take my flint? - asked the witch.
- Oh, damn it, you completely forgot about your flint! - said the soldier.
He went back, found the witch's flint and put it in his pocket.
- Well, take it! I found your flint! - he shouted to the witch.
The witch pulled the rope and pulled the soldier up. And the soldier found himself again on the high road.
“Well, give me the flint,” said the witch.
- What do you need this flint and steel for, witch? - asked the soldier.
- None of your business! - said the witch. - You got the money, right? Give me the flint!
- Oh no! - said the soldier. “Tell me now why you need the flint, otherwise I’ll pull out my saber and cut off your head.”
- I will not say! - answered the witch.
Then the soldier grabbed a saber and cut off the witch's head. The witch fell to the ground - and then she died. And the soldier tied all his money into a witch's checkered apron, put the bundle on his back and went straight to the city.
The city was large and rich. The soldier went to the largest hotel, hired himself the best rooms and ordered all his favorite dishes to be served - after all, he was now a rich man.
The servant who cleaned his boots was surprised that such a rich gentleman had such bad boots, since the soldier had not yet had time to buy new ones. But the next day he bought himself the most beautiful clothes, a hat with a feather and boots with spurs.
Now the soldier has become a real master. They told him about all the miracles that had happened in this city. They also told about a king who had a beautiful daughter, a princess.
- How can I see this princess? - asked the soldier.
“Well, it’s not that simple,” they told him. — The princess lives in a large copper castle, and around the castle there are high walls and stone towers. No one except the king himself dares to enter or leave there, because the king was predicted that his daughter was destined to become the wife of a common soldier. And the king, of course, doesn’t really want to become related to a simple soldier. So he keeps the princess locked up.
The soldier regretted that he could not look at the princess, but, however, he did not grieve for a long time. And he lived happily without the princess: he went to the theater, walked in the royal garden and distributed money to the poor. He himself experienced how bad it is to be penniless.
Well, since the soldier was rich, lived cheerfully and dressed beautifully, then he had a lot of friends. Everyone called him a nice fellow, a real gentleman, and he really liked that.
So the soldier spent and spent money and one day he sees that he only has two money left in his pocket. And the soldier had to move from good places to a cramped closet under the very roof. He remembered the old days: he began to clean his boots and sew up holes in them. None of his friends visited him anymore - it was too high to climb to him now.
One evening a soldier was sitting in his closet. It was already completely dark, and he didn’t even have money for a candle. Then he remembered the witch's flint. The soldier took out a flint and began to strike fire. As soon as he hit the flint, the door swung open and a dog with eyes like tea saucers ran in.
It was the same dog that the soldier saw in the first room of the dungeon.
- What do you order, soldier? - asked the dog.
- That's the thing! - said the soldier. - It turns out that flint is not simple. Will it help me out of trouble?.. Get me some money! - he ordered the dog.
And as soon as he said it, the dogs disappeared. But before the soldier had time to count to two, the dog was right there, and in its teeth was a large bag full of copper money.
The soldier now understood what a wonderful flint he had. If you hit the flint once, a dog with eyes like tea saucers would appear, and if a soldier hit it twice, a dog with eyes like mill wheels would run towards him. He strikes three times, and the dog, with each eye as large as a tower, stands in front of him and awaits orders. The first dog brings him copper money, the second - silver, and the third - pure gold.
And so the soldier became rich again, moved to the best rooms, and again began to flaunt himself in an elegant dress.
Then all his friends again got into the habit of visiting him and fell in love with him very much.
One day it occurred to the soldier:
“Why don’t I go see the princess? Everyone says she is so beautiful. What's the point if she spends her life in a copper castle, behind high walls and towers? Come on, where’s my flint?”
And he struck the flint once. At that same moment a dog with eyes like saucers appeared.
- That's it, my dear! - said the soldier. “Now, it’s true, it’s already night, but I want to look at the princess.” Bring her here for a minute. Well, let's march!
The dog immediately ran away, and before the soldier had time to come to his senses, she appeared again, and on her back lay the sleeping princess.
The princess was wonderfully beautiful. At first glance it was clear that this was a real princess. Our soldier could not resist kissing her - that’s why he was a soldier, a real gentleman, from head to toe. Then the dog carried the princess back the same way she brought her.
Over morning tea, the princess told the king and queen that she had had an amazing dream at night: that she was riding on a dog and some soldier kissed her.
- That's the story! - said the queen.
Apparently, she didn’t really like this dream.
The next night, an old lady-in-waiting was assigned to the princess’s bedside and ordered to find out whether it was really a dream or something else.
And the soldier was again dying to see the beautiful princess.
And then at night, just like yesterday, a dog appeared in the copper castle, grabbed the princess and ran off with her at full speed. Then the old lady-in-waiting put on her waterproof boots and set off in pursuit. Seeing that the dog had disappeared with the princess into one big house, the maid of honor thought: “Now we’ll find the young fellow!” And she drew a large cross with chalk on the gate of the house, and she calmly went home to sleep.
But in vain she calmed down: when the time came to carry the princess back, the dog saw a cross on the gate and immediately guessed what was going on. She took a piece of chalk and put crosses on all the gates of the city. This was cleverly thought out: now the maid of honor could not possibly find the right gate - after all, there were the same white crosses everywhere.
Early in the morning, the king and queen, the old lady-in-waiting and all the royal officers went to see where the princess rode her dog at night.
- That's where! - said the king, seeing the white cross on the first gate.
- No, that's where! - said the queen, seeing the cross on the other gate.
- And there is a cross there, and here! - said the officers.
And no matter which gate they looked at, there were white crosses everywhere. They didn't achieve any benefit.
But the queen was a smart woman, a jack of all trades, and not just riding around in carriages. She ordered the servants to bring her golden scissors and a piece of silk and sewed a beautiful little bag. She poured buckwheat into this bag and quietly tied it on the princess’s back. Then she poked a hole in the bag so that the cereal would gradually fall onto the road when the princess went to her soldier.
And then at night a dog appeared, put the princess on its back and carried it to the soldier. And the soldier had already fallen in love with the princess so much that he wanted to marry her with all his heart. And it would be nice to become a prince.
The dog ran quickly, and cereals fell out of the bag all along the road from the copper castle to the soldier’s house. But the dog didn't notice anything.
In the morning, the king and queen left the palace, looked at the road and immediately recognized where the princess had gone. The soldier was captured and put in prison.
The soldier sat behind bars for a long time. The prison was dark and boring. And then one day the guard said to the soldier:
- Tomorrow you will be hanged!
The soldier felt sad. He thought, thought about how to escape death, but could not come up with anything. After all, the soldier forgot his wonderful flint at home.
The next morning, the soldier went to the small window and began to look through the iron bars onto the street. Crowds of people flocked out of town to see how the soldier would be hanged. Drums beat and troops passed by. And then a boy, a shoemaker in a leather apron and shoes on his bare feet, ran past the prison itself. He was skipping along, and suddenly one shoe flew off his foot and hit right into the wall of the prison, near the lattice window where the soldier was standing.
- Hey, young man, don't rush! - the soldier shouted. “I’m still here, but things can’t get done there without me!” But if you run to my house and bring me flint, I will give you four silver coins. Well, it's alive!
The boy was not averse to receiving four silver coins and took off like an arrow for the flint, brought it instantly, gave it to the soldier and...
Listen to what came out of this.
A large gallows was built outside the city. There were troops and crowds of people around her. The king and queen sat on a magnificent throne. Opposite sat the judges and the entire State Council. And so the soldier was led onto the stairs, and the executioner was about to throw a noose around his neck. But then the soldier asked to wait a minute.
“I would really like,” he said, “to smoke a pipe of tobacco - after all, this will be the very last pipe in my life.”
And in this country there was such a custom: the last wish of a person sentenced to execution must be fulfilled. Of course, if it was a completely trivial desire.
Therefore, the king could not refuse the soldier. And the soldier put his pipe in his mouth, pulled out his flint and began to strike fire. He hit the flint once, hit it twice, hit it three times - and then three dogs appeared in front of him. One had eyes like tea saucers, another like mill wheels, and the third like towers.
- Come on, help me get rid of the noose! - the soldier told them.
Then all three dogs rushed at the judges and the State Council: they would grab this one by the legs, that one by the nose, and let’s throw them up so high that, falling to the ground, everyone was smashed to pieces.
- You don’t need me! I don't want! - the king shouted.
But the largest dog grabbed him and the queen and threw them both up. Then the army got scared, and the people began to shout:
- Long live the soldier! Be our king, soldier, and take a beautiful princess as your wife!
The soldier was put into the royal carriage and taken to the palace. Three dogs danced in front of the carriage and shouted “hurray.” The boys whistled and the troops saluted. The princess left the copper castle and became queen. Clearly, she was very pleased.
The wedding feast lasted a whole week. Three dogs were also sitting at the table, eating, drinking and rolling their huge eyes.
The folklore of the peoples of Europe, which over the course of many centuries developed in parallel with a rich literature that goes back to folk oral traditions and which, in one way or another, adopted the traditions of antiquity - ancient Greek and Roman culture, gave the world classic examples of folk tales. These are fairy tales about animals (famous, for example, “The Musicians of Bremen” adapted by the Brothers Grimm), fairy tales (among them the world-famous “Cinderella”), everyday tales and anecdotes.
Animals in the fairy tales of European peoples are often stable types, the embodiment of certain properties of human nature (the fox and fox are cunning and deceivers; the wolf is stupid, greedy and ferocious), it is easy to recognize in them representatives of certain classes: for example, in the one already mentioned It’s not difficult for a wolf to spot a feudal lord. “What an evil wolf you are! Why do you trample the weak underfoot? - ask the wasps who suffered from him in the French fairy tale “The Wolf, the Snail and the Wasps”, already with their rhetorical question characterizing the evil wolf, who also turns out to be a decent fool. The wolf is easily deceived by the owl that got caught in the teeth of the gray one in the funny Portuguese fairy tale “Ate the Owl!”
Obvious traces of the deification of the beast or the attitude towards these stories as magical for European fairy tales about animals is a long-past stage. These are, rather, allegories, allegories, fables, satirical narratives, often with moralizing overtones. There are also comic tales about animals, which serve primarily to make people laugh and entertain.
Magic fairy tales of the peoples of foreign Europe are characterized by a developed plot and dynamic action that captivates the reader and listener. Often these are detailed narratives, in them we find an ideal, from a popular point of view, hero, kind, spiritually generous, who, after adventures, achieves wealth and happiness - marriage to a princess or a rich girl.
Fairy tales about a persecuted stepdaughter (such as “Cinderella”), beloved by all peoples of the world, exist in the folklore of the peoples of foreign Europe in the form of bright, memorable, detailed narratives that make it possible to create an unusually sweet image of an ideal heroine - a patient worker. These tales about a persecuted stepdaughter are comparable only to tales on a similar topic that are recorded among the peoples of Asia.
In addition, it should be noted the original Slovak fairy tale about a poor stepdaughter - “Twelve Months”, which served as a good basis for the famous play of the same name by S. Marshak.
The world of wizards, sorcerers, and good fairies in European fairy tales has long been perceived as poetic fiction. Magic wands and magic rings, wonderful pipes and so on have turned into imagery; sometimes it is not easy to discern their mythological basis. Not only wonderful helpers - an extraordinary puppy and a cat, a clever little frog - enter the world of fairy tales of foreign European peoples easily and naturally, but also jokes, irony, disbelief in the miracles that are told in these fairy tales.
Everyday tales of European peoples are close to the atmosphere of real peasant or city life. This is a very common type of fairy tale in their folklore, close to an anecdote. Usually they are dominated by a comic atmosphere, the element of satire, and a savvy and dexterous hero of simple origin acts. He is always characterized in action; the features of a certain social type (craftsman, peasant, seasoned soldier) and national features clearly appear in him, by which we recognize the cheerful French joker-hunters (“Three Hunters”) and the desperately brave Croatian soldier (“How the soldier shaved the devil").
By the way, isn’t he one of those fearless soldiers who fought for the independence of their homeland against Ottoman rule in the 70s of the last century? After all, the sympathy of storytellers in some other countries, such as Vietnam and China, has never attracted the soldiers. On the contrary, there the soldier is a target for the storyteller’s ridicule, since the feudal armies of these countries were often an instrument of suppression of their own peoples. And the people paid the soldiers and guards in the same coin, portraying them as fools and klutzes, completely devoid of ingenuity.
Unfortunately, now the facts of the living existence of fairy tales among the peoples of foreign Europe have become rare, and we, perhaps, are unlikely to be able to hear from our grandfather-storyteller on a quiet summer evening that same Croatian fairy tale “How a Soldier Shaved the Devil” or the Polish fairy tale “The Shepherd Who Had a Thousand Hares.” pass". But you can be sure that the Croatian listeners perceived the soldier as a Croat, and the Polish listeners perceived the hare shepherd, who escaped from Tatar captivity in ancient times, as a Pole.
Existing for centuries next to literature, the European fairy tale nourished it, gave it its vital juices.
Another Homeric epic - the ancient Greek "Odyssey" (different scientists attribute Homer's life to different centuries in the period from the 12th to the 7th centuries BC) contained interesting fairy-tale material. Many works of medieval literature were built on the basis of fairy tales, their images, motifs and plots. In the novels of chivalry, for example by the famous 12th-century French novelist Chrétien de Troyes, fairy tale fiction plays an important role. They feature wizards and sorcerers, enchanted castles, a love potion and other wonders. One of the significant works of French literature of the 12th - 13th centuries is considered to be “The Romance of Renard”, based on fairy tales about animals. Folk themes and plots are also noticeable in European literature of the Renaissance - let us remember the short stories of the great Italian writer Giovanni Boccaccio (1313-1375), creator of the Decameron, as well as the collection Pleasant Nights (1550-1553) by Gian, written in imitation of him Francesca Straparola (1480 - about 1557), also Italian.
The study of the folklore basis of literary works, or, as scientists say, the folklorism of literature, has long become an important direction in science, and it gives us a lot of evidence of the connection of European literary monuments with the fairy-tale element.
Thus, on the basis of narrative folklore, at the end of the 16th century, a German folk book of anecdotal stories about Schildburgers, residents of the city of Schild, was created. These stories sounded like a challenge to respectable burghers and numerous ruling princes: subsequently, according to the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, which legally secured the division of Germany, it broke up into three hundred independent principalities. Anecdotes about Schildburgers, with the help of laughter, comedy, and buffoonery, asserted the human right to happiness and personal independence from princes, emperors and other feudal lords. It is known that Friedrich Engels highly valued German folk books and dedicated a special article to them, which was first published in 1839. “These old folk books, with their ancient speech, with their typos and bad engravings, have an extraordinary poetic charm for me. They take me away from our confusing modern "orders, disorders and sophisticated relationships" into a world that is much closer to nature."
German folk books, including stories about the Schildburgers, were extremely popular. They read them aloud to everyone around them and to themselves, and looked at the engravings, although their quality was far from the best. And the word “Schildburger” became a household word.
But nevertheless, the first collection of fairy tales in Europe, apparently, should be considered “The Tale of Tales” (1634-1636), or “Pentameron”, by Giambattista Basile (published in 1575-1632), the frame in this collection was a tale about the misadventures of a princess Dzoza and the enchanted prince Tadeo.
In 1697, French fairy tales were published, adapted by Charles Perrault (1628-1703), which formed the collection “Stories or Tales of Bygone Times with Instructions,” which had the subtitle “Tales of Mother Goose.” And the friendly Perrault family often gathered for fairy tale evenings, during which the adventures of Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, and Puss in Boots were retold.
The publication of Charles Perrault's book of fairy tales and the popularity it gained prepared the French and, indeed, the European reader in general for the perception of oriental fairy tales - the famous "One Thousand and One Nights", which, by the way, was not a simple recording of fairy tales, but a grandiose collection of works of folk literature. In 1703-1713, a French translation of this set in twelve volumes, made by A. Gallan, was published. This was not the first time that a European reader encountered a work of Eastern literature based on fairy tales: the Arabic version of the ancient Indian “Panchatantra” (III-IV centuries), known as “Kalila and Dimna,” was translated into Greek in 1081 and received the title “Stsfanit and Ikhnilat”. During the 13th-16th centuries, translations of the Arabic version appeared into Spanish, Latin, German and other European languages.
The nineteenth century was a century of great work in collecting fairy tales. First of all, it would be fair to mention the enormous merit of the famous German scientists the Brothers Grimm, who in the period from 1812 to 1822 published three volumes of German “Children's and Household Fairy Tales”. It was a collection that included two hundred fairy tales, not counting variations.
Let us note that one of the brothers, Jacob Grimm, subsequently highly appreciated the scientific work of the active collector of folklore of foreign Slavic peoples, Vuk Stefanovic Karadzic (1787-1864), a Serbian philologist, historian, and ethnographer. Karadzic was the first to collect tales of these peoples.
Of course, now in all European countries there are numerous editions of collections of fairy tales.
There are centers for their study, and an “Encyclopedia of Fairy Tales” and indexes of fairy tale plots and motifs have been published.
