The father, dying, gave his son three pieces of advice: “Don’t visit often, otherwise they will despise you; Don’t change horses at the market, otherwise you’ll have to walk all your life; Don’t look for a wife in a foreign land, otherwise you will grieve for the rest of your life.
The son listens to his father’s words and wags his lips. After his father’s death, he thought: “I need to try my father’s advice.” Okay, he went to visit. The first time they greeted him with pies, the second time it was also a sin to complain, and the third time - already with coldness, the fourth time - and even worse, the fifth time he left neither full nor hungry, and the sixth time they served him bread made from chaff and scabputra. He ate one slice of bread, and brought the other home and put it in his chest in the barn. And as he began to go to bed, he said to himself:
- The first advice of the fathers is correct, we need to try the second one.
OK. He began to ride around the bazaars and change horses. And even here nothing good came of it: in the end he exchanged such a nag that on the way she stretched her legs, and the son had to walk home. He skinned the nag and put it in his chest. And as he began to go to bed, he said to himself:
“Two of my father’s advice turned out to be correct; I need to try the third.”
OK. The next Sunday he went to the other side of the world to look after his bride. He searched and searched and found - a girl was walking, her feet didn’t seem to be touching the ground. Where could it be better? We agreed to take a look at the groom's farm the following Sunday. However, in the evening, walking home, the son thought: “I already have two of my father’s advice in my chest. And the third, before I put it in the chest, I need to take a good look at. Sunday is Sunday - you can’t make out anything, but weekdays are a completely different matter. I’ll do this: I’ll go back, quietly climb into the threshing floor, spend the night, and in the morning I’ll see what my betrothed to work."
In the morning, just before light, the old men hurry to the field to reap rye, but their daughter is nowhere to be seen. Wonderful! It’s already noon in the yard, but she’s still not there—I should look in the hut. He came in and saw: the apron that the bride was wearing yesterday was lying in the middle of the hut, as if it belonged there, and the girl behind the stove was snoring, only the walls were shaking. The son picked up his apron and headed home. He put the apron in his chest and began to calmly wait for the next Sunday.
Sunday came - the bride and her parents were right there. They looked at all the corners - everything was fine! They went into the barn, saw the treasured chest and asked:
- What’s there?
- I can’t show this, that’s what’s most expensive there!
- Show me, don’t refuse!
- Well, so be it!
He opened the chest - what is it?
- How is it, boy, that you got my apron?
- In this chest, girl, are my father’s advice. While people sleep, my chest collects useful advice for me. There are already three pieces of advice in my chest: a loaf of bread, a horse skin and your apron. The first one teaches: don’t visit often, otherwise they will despise you; the second teaches: don’t change horses at the market, otherwise you’ll walk your whole life; and the third, your apron, teaches: don’t look for a wife in a foreign land, otherwise you won’t end up in grief!
The girl was ashamed and went home.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru