Sincerity   A LION, a wolf and a fox went out hunting together. They killed an ass, a gazelle and a hare.    Seeing this catch, the lion said to the wolf:   "Kindly tell me, friend wolf, how we should divide this game."         "There is no need," replied the wolf, "to cut up the three animals. You take the ass, let the fox take the hare, and for my part I shall be content with the gazelle."         The lion's only answer was a roar of fury, and with a single blow, as reward for his advice, he crushed the wolf's head with his claw. Then the lion turned to the fox and said:         "And, my dear friend, what do you suggest?"         "Oh, Sire," the

Self-reliance   HATIM Tai had a great reputation among the Arabs of old for the lavishness of his gifts and alms.   "Have you ever met anyone more excellent than yourself?" his friends once asked him.   "Yes," replied Hatim Tai.    "Who was he?"         "One day I had forty camels sacrificed and I offered a feast to whoever would like to come and share in it. Then I set out with several chiefs to invite guests from far and wide. On the way we came across a woodcutter who had just cut a bundle of thorns. This was the way he earned his livelihood. Seeing that he was poor, I asked him why he did not go to the many feasts given by Hatim Tai. 'Those who earn th

Building and Destroying   CHILDREN, you all know what it is to build and to destroy.         Weapon in hand, the warrior goes forth to destroy.         The builder draws up plans, digs foundations, and the toiling hands of men build a farmhouse for the peasant or a palace for a prince.         It is better to build than to destroy, and yet destroying is sometimes necessary.         You, children, who have strong arms and hands, do you only build? Do you never destroy? And if you do, what do you destroy?         Listen to this account of an Indian legend:         A new-born baby lay in a grove. You might think that he was sure to die,

Courage   YOU fall  into water. You are not daunted by the great watery mass. You make good use of your arms and legs, grateful to the teacher who taught you how to swim. You grapple with the waves and you escape. You have been brave.   You are asleep. "Fire!" The cry of alarm has awakened you. You leap from your bed and see the red glare of the blaze. You are not stricken with mortal fear. You run through the smoke, the sparks, the flames, to safety. This is courage.    Some time ago I visited an infant school in England. The little school-children were between three and seven years old. There were both boys and girls, who were busy knitting, drawing, listening to stories, si

Modesty        WHO is this corning to the door of this Japanese house?         It is the flower-artist, the man who is skilled in arranging flowers.         The master of the house brings a tray with some flowers, a pair of scissors, a knife, a little saw, and a beautiful vase.         "Sir," he says, "I cannot make a bouquet beautiful enough for such a beautiful vase."         "I am sure you can," replies the master politely as he leaves the room.         Left alone, the artist sets to work, cutting, snipping, twisting and tying until a beautiful bunch of flowers fills the vase — a delight to the eyes.         The master and his friends enter the ro

Sympathy   WHEN is sorrow accompanied by sorrow? When one heart feels it and our heart feels it at the same time.         Duryodhana, the famous warrior, fell on the plain of Kurukshetra and his friends were so full of grief that when he lay on the ground and died, all Nature seemed in disorder. Headless creatures with many arms and legs danced dreadful dances over the earth; in lakes and wells the water was turned to blood; rivers flowed upstream instead of downstream; women looked like men, and men like women.         Here the poet teaches us that the suffering undergone by one being spreads through a wide, wide world. There was sympathy between the fallen king and thousands

 PUBLISHER'S NOTE   During her stay in Japan (1916-1920) the Mother translated and adapted some stories written by Mr. F. J. Gould, which had been published in his Youth's Noble Path in 1911. The Mother's versions, written in French, were first published as Belles Histories in 1946. An English translation, entitled Tales of All Times, was brought out in 1951. That translation was revised when the book was included in Words of Long Ago, Volume 2 of the Mother's Collected Works in 1978; at that time five additional chapters were translated and added as an appendix. The text of the present edition is the same as appeared in the Collected Works. The illustrations in this book, which first appea

The Family   A TRAVELLER in Morocco noticed that in the evening when the flocks of ewes and the flocks of lambs were brought together after having been separated all day, the good creatures ran eagerly here and there as if they were looking for something. In fact, each ewe was looking for its lamb, each lamb was looking for its mother.         A monkey had young ones and she loved them, but her love was like a fountain, giving drink not only to her own children, but pouring out on all. She found other little monkeys and was kind to them. Not only that, she took puppies and kittens with her as if she had adopted them. And when she had food to give, she shared it between her own lit

Prudence   "GOOD shot!" the cry rang out as the young Indian let fly his arrow and hit his mark.   "Yes," someone said, "but it is broad daylight. The archer can see his target. He is not so skilled as Dasaratha."   "And what does Dasaratha do?"   "He is Sabdabhedi."    "What is that?"         "He shoots by sound."    "What do you mean?"         "Well, he can shoot in the dark. At night he goes out into the jungle and listens, and when he has judged, from the sound of wings or footsteps, what kind of game he has encountered he lets fly his arrow and hits it as surely as if he had shot by day."         Thus the reputation of Dasaratha,

  APPENDIX             Stories not published in previous editions of   Tales of All Times Page-91