In the beautiful green hills of the Basque Country, three brothers lived together on a little farm. The farm might be small, but it was fertile and well-kept, with fields and an orchard clustered around a trim little house, painted red and white in the Basque style.
Every week, one of the brothers would take it in turn to go to market and sell their produce. Depending on the season, it might be tomatoes or apples or peppers or cherries or cheese or grapes or eggs or many other things.
One fine market morning, the eldest brother, Eneko, set off with a sack full of fine grapes. Along the road, he met an old lady, who asked him, “So where are you going with your sack?”
“To market,” Eneko replied.
“And what will you sell there?” the lady asked nosily. “
Horns,” he replied, annoyed by her question. “May you sell many horns then,” she said quietly, and went on her way. When he arrived at the marketplace,
Eneko undid his sack. What was his shock and horror when he saw that, instead of fine grapes, the sack was full of dirty, smelly old cow horns! Quickly, he tied up the sack again, for he didn’t want to be a laughingstock, and went off home without a word. And he didn’t tell his brothers what had happened but buried the sack in the field.
The next week, along went Iban, the middle brother, to market, with a sack full of juicy apples. On the road, who should he meet but an old lady who asked him, “Where are you going with your sack?’
“To market,” he replied.
“And what will you sell there?” she asked curiously.
“Toads,” he replied, thinking it a fine joke.
“May you sell many toads then,” she said gently, and went on her way.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة October 2019 من Cricket Magazine for Kids.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة October 2019 من Cricket Magazine for Kids.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
The Tale Of Paddy Ahern
THERE ONCE WAS a lad named Paddy Ahern who trod the green hills of Limerick, Ireland, offering to help farmers with their chores in return for food and lodging.
The Pedestrians
EACH TIME HELGA Estby looked over her shoulder, the big cat was there. Crossing Wyoming’s Red Desert on foot, in the dust and heat of August 1896, was tough.
The Magic Gifts
A Basque Folk Tale
The Dragon's Scales
“THREE YEARS I'VE been waiting, when Torquil promised he’d return them in three days. I’m not waiting three more days to get back what’s mine!” The dragon punctuated his remarks with a smoky snort and a lashing tail.
The Water Bucketre
A Chinese Folk Tale.
Between The Pages
One rainy night, while alone in the castle library with her talking gargoyle, Marcus, Princess Audrey finds a book with the odd title Finding Angel. Meanwhile, in modern times, a girl named Angel is celebrating her thirteenth birthday.
Swim Buddies
I LEAN OVER the side of the catamaran and peer into the crystal blue water. This is my last chance, I think.
The Bushwhackers
I CAN’T ABIDE living one more day in this pigpen!” I groaned and rolled out of bed to pull on my dress.
As American as Appleless Pie!
NOTHING IS MORE American than the humble apple pie. There’s even an old saying to prove it: “as American as apple pie.” So it may come as a surprise that many early settlers who forged the trails of our expanding nation were often without apples to make this most American of desserts. As pioneers headed west in pursuit of territory and gold, they had to leave many things behind, including apples. Not only did life on the trail make fresh fruit like apples hard to carry and keep, apple trees were native only to the east coast, which made finding apples in the West nearly impossible.
The Man Who Built A Better Leg
THE CIVIL WAR was only a few weeks old when seven hundred and fifty Confederate recruits gathered in the fields around Philippi, Virginia. It was early June 1861, and as yet there had been no real battles. The men had eagerly volunteered, but most had no training as soldiers. Their only weapons were the ones they brought from home— old-fashioned flintlock muskets, cap and ball pistols, and a few shotguns.