The Tongue-Cut Sparrow

Long, long ago in Japan there lived an old man and his wife. The old man was good-hearted, hard-working, and kind, but his wife was a regular cross-patch who spoiled the happiness of their home with her scolding tongue. She was always grumbling about something from morning to night. The old man had long ago stopped paying attention to her crossness. He was out most of the day working in the fields, and since they had no child, he kept a tame sparrow for company. He loved the little bird as if she were his own child.

When he came home at night after a hard day's work in the open air, his only pleasure was to pet the sparrow, talk to her, and teach her little tricks, which she learned very quickly. He would open her cage and let her fly about the room, and they would play together. At suppertime, he always saved some tasty bits from his meal to feed his little bird.

One day, the old man went out to chop wood in the forest, and the old woman stayed home to wash clothes. The day before, she had made some starch, and now when she went to get it, it was all gone; the bowl that had been full yesterday was empty.

While she was wondering who could have used or stolen the starch, down flew the pet sparrow, bowing her little feathered head—a trick her master had taught her—and the pretty bird chirped, "It was I who took the starch. I thought it was some food put out for me in that basin, and I ate it all. If I made a mistake, please forgive me! Tweet, tweet, tweet!"

The sparrow was truthful, and the old woman should have forgiven her at once, especially since the bird asked so politely. But not the old woman. She had never loved the sparrow and had often quarreled with her husband for keeping what she called a dirty bird in the house. Now she was delighted to have an excuse to complain. She scolded and cursed the poor little bird for its bad behavior, and not content with harsh words, in a fit of rage she seized the sparrow—who had spread out her wings and bowed her head to show her sorrow—and fetched her scissors and cut out the poor little bird's tongue.

"I suppose you took my starch with that tongue! Now you can see what it's like to go without it!" And with these dreadful words she drove the bird away, not caring what might happen to it and without an ounce of pity for its suffering.

After driving the sparrow away, the old woman made more rice paste, grumbling about the trouble, and after starching her clothes, she spread them on boards to dry in the sun, instead of ironing them as they do in some countries.

In the evening, the old man came home. As usual, on the way back he looked forward to seeing his pet come flying and chirping to meet him, ruffling her feathers with joy and settling on his shoulder. But that night, the old man was disappointed, for not even a trace of his dear sparrow was to be seen.

He quickened his steps, hastily drew off his straw sandals, and stepped onto the veranda. Still no sparrow. He feared his wife, in one of her cross moods, had shut the sparrow in its cage. So he called to her and asked anxiously, "Where is Suzume San (Miss Sparrow) today?"

The old woman pretended not to know at first, and replied, "Your sparrow? I'm sure I don't know. Now that I think of it, I haven't seen her all afternoon. I wouldn't be surprised if that ungrateful bird flew away and left you after all your petting!"

But the old man gave her no peace, asking again and again, insisting she must know what had happened to his pet. At last, she confessed all. She told him crossly how the sparrow had eaten the rice paste she had made for starching her clothes, how when the sparrow confessed, she had cut out its tongue in anger, and finally, how she had driven the bird away and forbidden it to return.

Then the old woman showed her husband the sparrow's tongue, saying, "Here is the tongue I cut off! Horrid little bird, why did it eat all my starch?"

"How could you be so cruel? Oh, how could you be so cruel?" was all the old man could say. He was too kind-hearted to punish his scolding wife, but he was terribly grieved for his poor little sparrow.

"What a dreadful misfortune for my poor Suzume San to lose her tongue!" he thought. "She won't be able to chirp anymore, and surely the pain of the cutting must have made her ill! Is there nothing I can do?"

The old man shed many tears after his cross wife had gone to sleep. As he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his cotton robe, a comforting thought came to him: he would go and look for the sparrow the next day. With that decision, he was finally able to sleep.

The next morning, he rose early, as soon as day broke, and after a hasty breakfast, he set out over the hills and through the woods, stopping at every bamboo grove to call, "Where, oh where, does my tongue-cut sparrow stay? Where, oh where, does my tongue-cut sparrow stay?"

He did not stop even for his noon meal, and it was late in the afternoon when he found himself near a large bamboo wood. Bamboo groves are the favorite haunts of sparrows, and there, at the edge of the wood, he saw his own dear sparrow waiting to welcome him. He could hardly believe his eyes for joy, and he ran forward to greet her. She bowed her little head and performed some of the tricks her master had taught her to show her pleasure at seeing him again, and, wonderful to relate, she could talk just as before. The old man told her how sorry he was for all that had happened and asked about her tongue, wondering how she could speak so well without it. The sparrow opened her beak and showed him that a new tongue had grown in its place, and she begged him not to worry anymore about the past, for she was quite well now. Then the old man knew that his sparrow was a fairy, not an ordinary bird. It is hard to describe the old man's joy.

He forgot all his troubles, even his tiredness, for he had found his lost sparrow, and instead of being sick and tongueless, she was well and happy, with a new tongue, and without any sign of the ill-treatment she had suffered from his wife. And above all, she was a fairy.

The sparrow asked him to follow her, and flying before him, she led him to a beautiful house in the heart of the bamboo grove. The old man was utterly astonished to find such a lovely place. It was built of the whitest wood, the soft cream-colored mats that served as carpets were the finest he had ever seen, and the cushions the sparrow brought out for him were made of the finest silk and crepe. Beautiful vases and lacquer boxes adorned the alcove of every room.

The sparrow led the old man to the place of honor and then, taking a humble position, thanked him with many polite bows for all the kindness he had shown her over the years.

Then the Lady Sparrow, as we shall now call her, introduced all her family to the old man. Afterwards, her daughters, dressed in dainty crepe gowns, brought in beautiful old-fashioned trays laden with all kinds of delicious food, until the old man thought he must be dreaming. In the middle of the dinner, some of the sparrow's daughters performed a wonderful dance, called the 'suzume-odori' or 'Sparrow's Dance,' to amuse him.

Never had the old man enjoyed himself so much. The hours flew by quickly in that lovely spot, with the fairy sparrows to serve him, feast him, and dance before him.

But night came, and darkness reminded him that he had a long way to go and must think about leaving. He thanked his kind hostess for the splendid entertainment and begged her, for his sake, to forget all she had suffered at the hands of his cross old wife. He told the Lady Sparrow that it was a great comfort to find her in such a beautiful home and to know she wanted for nothing. It was his worry about her that had made him come looking for her. Now that he knew all was well, he could go home with a light heart. If she ever needed anything, she had only to send for him, and he would come at once.

The Lady Sparrow begged him to stay and rest for several days, but the old man said he must return to his old wife—who would probably be cross at his lateness—and to his work. Much as he wished to stay, he could not accept her invitation. But now that he knew where she lived, he would come to visit whenever he had time.

When the Lady Sparrow saw that she could not persuade him to stay, she ordered her servants to bring in two boxes, one large and one small, and placed them before the old man. She asked him to choose whichever he liked as a parting gift.

The old man could not refuse, and he chose the smaller box, saying, "I am now too old and feeble to carry a large, heavy box. As you kindly let me choose, I'll take the small one, which will be easier to carry."

Then all the sparrows helped him put the box on his back and accompanied him to the gate, bidding him goodbye with many bows and entreating him to come again whenever he had time. Thus the old man and his pet sparrow parted happily, the sparrow showing no ill will for the unkindness she had suffered from the old wife. Indeed, she felt only sorrow for the old man who had to put up with such a wife all his life.

When the old man reached home, his wife was crosser than usual, for it was late and she had been waiting up for him for a long time.

"Where have you been all this time?" she demanded. "Why are you so late?"

The old man tried to calm her by showing her the box, and then he told her all that had happened and how wonderfully he had been entertained at the sparrow's house.

"Now let's see what's in the box," he said, not giving her time to grumble again. "Help me open it." And they both sat down and opened it.

To their utter astonishment, the box was filled to the brim with gold and silver coins and many other precious things. The mats of their little cottage glittered as they took the items out one by one and examined them. The old man was overjoyed at the sight of the riches now his, beyond his brightest expectations. He said, "Thanks to my good little sparrow! Thanks to my good little sparrow!" many times.

But the old woman, after the first moments of surprise and satisfaction, could not suppress the greed in her wicked nature. She began to scold the old man for not bringing home the big box, for he had told her how he had refused it, preferring the smaller one because it was light.

"You silly old man," she said, "why didn't you bring the large box? Think what we've lost. We could have had twice as much silver and gold!" She screamed, "You are certainly an old fool!" and went to bed as angry as she could be.

The old man wished he had said nothing about the big box, but it was too late. The greedy old woman, not content with the good luck she so little deserved, made up her mind to get more.

Early the next morning, she got up and made the old man describe the way to the sparrow's house. When he saw what she intended, he tried to stop her, but it was useless. She would not listen. It is strange that the old woman felt no shame about going to see the sparrow after cutting out her tongue in a rage. But her greed to get the big box made her forget everything else. It never occurred to her that the sparrows might be angry with her and punish her for what she had done.

Ever since the Lady Sparrow had returned home in the sad state they first found her—weeping and bleeding from the mouth—her family and relations had talked constantly of the old woman's cruelty. "How could she," they asked each other, "inflict such a heavy punishment for such a trifling offense as eating some rice paste by mistake?" They all loved the old man for his kindness, but they hated the old woman and were determined to punish her as she deserved. They did not have to wait long.

After walking for some hours, the old woman found the bamboo grove described by her husband, and she stood before it crying, "Where is the tongue-cut sparrow's house? Where is the tongue-cut sparrow's house?"

At last she saw the eaves of the house among the bamboo leaves. She hurried to the door and knocked loudly.

When the servants told the Lady Sparrow that her old mistress was at the door, she was surprised at the unexpected visit, after all that had happened, and she wondered at the old woman's boldness. However, being polite, the Lady Sparrow went out to greet her, remembering that she had once been her mistress.

The old woman wasted no time on words and went straight to the point, saying, "You need not trouble to entertain me as you did my husband. I have come to get the box he so stupidly left behind. Give me the big box—that's all I want!"

The Lady Sparrow at once consented and told her servants to bring out the big box. The old woman eagerly seized it, hoisted it on her back, and without even thanking the Lady Sparrow, hurried homeward.

The box was so heavy that she could not walk fast, much less run, though she was anxious to see what was inside. She often had to sit down to rest by the way.

While staggering under the heavy load, her desire to open the box became too strong to resist. She supposed it was full of gold and silver and precious jewels like the small one her husband had received.

At last, this greedy and selfish old woman put the box down by the wayside and opened it carefully, expecting to gloat over a mine of wealth. But what she saw terrified her so much that she nearly lost her senses. As soon as she lifted the lid, a number of horrible, frightful-looking demons bounced out and surrounded her, as if they intended to kill her. Even in nightmares she had never seen such creatures. A demon with one huge eye in the middle of its forehead glared at her, monsters with gaping mouths looked as if they would devour her, a huge snake coiled and hissed about her, and a big frog hopped and croaked toward her.

The old woman had never been so frightened in her life. She ran from the spot as fast as her trembling legs would carry her, glad to escape alive. When she reached home, she fell to the floor and tearfully told her husband what had happened, and how she had nearly been killed by the demons in the box.

Then she began to blame the sparrow, but the old man stopped her at once, saying, "Don't blame the sparrow. It is your own wickedness that has met with its reward. I hope this will be a lesson to you for the future."

The old woman said nothing more. From that day, she repented of her cross, unkind ways and gradually became a good old woman, so that her husband hardly recognized her. They spent their last days together happily, free from want or care, carefully using the treasure the old man had received from his pet, the tongue-cut sparrow.