In a certain town lived a weaver. His name was Soft, and he spent his time making garments dyed in various patterns, fit for such people as princes. But for all his labors, he could not collect a bit of money beyond food and clothes. Yet he saw other weavers, who made coarse fabrics, rolling in wealth, and he said to his wife: “Look at these fellows, my dear. They make coarse stuff, but they earn heaps of money. This city does not offer me a decent living. I am going to move.”

“Oh, my dear,” said his wife, “it is a mistake to say that money comes to those who travel. There is a proverb:

What shall not be, will never be;

What shall be, follows painlessly;

The thing your fingers grasp, will flit,

If fate has predetermined it.

And again

A calf can find its mother cow

Among a thousand kine:

So good or evil done, returns

And whispers: ‘I am thine.’

And once again:

As shade and sunlight interbreed,

So twined are Doer and his Deed.

So stay here and mind your business.”

“You are mistaken, my dear,” said he. “No deed comes to fruition without effort. There is a proverb:

You cannot clap a single hand;

Nor, effortless, do what you planned.

And again:

Although, at meal-time, fate provide

A richly loaded plate,

No food will reach the mouth, unless

The hand co-operate.

And once again:

Through work, not wishes, every plan

Its full fruition reaps:

No deer walk down the lion’s throat

So long as lion sleeps.

And one last quotation:

Suppose he gave the best he had,

Yet no fruition came,

‘Twas fate that blocked his efforts, not

The man who was to blame.

I must go to another country.” So he went to Growing City, stayed three years, and started home with savings of three hundred gold-pieces.

In mid-journey, he found himself in a great forest when the blessed sun went to rest. So, forethoughtful for his safety, he climbed upon a stout branch of a banyan tree and dozed. In the middle of the night, as he slept, he saw two human figures whose eyes were bloodshot with fury, and heard them abusing each other.

The first of them was saying: “Come now, Doer! You know you have, in every possible way, prevented this fellow Soft from getting any capital beyond food and clothes. So you have no right ever to let him have any. Why did you give him three hundred gold pieces’?”

“Now, Deed!” said the other. “I am constrained to give the enterprising a reward in proportion to their enterprise. The final consequence is your affair. Take it from him yourself.” On hearing this, Soft awoke and looked for his bag of gold.

When he found it empty, he thought: “Oh, dear! It was so much trouble to earn the money, and it went in a flash. I have had my work for nothing. I haven’t a thing. How