On a certain Sunday in the month of May some of our mountain friends descended to the village to attend church, others to seek work of the municipal authorities, and a great number to visit the tavern — a sort of combination of general store and liquor shop. Here most of the wood-workers spent Sunday and the greater part of their hard-earned money in strong drink. Those that remained on the mountain-side slept a good part of the day or set out to look for strawberries. Seated in the sunshine at his doorway, old Pablo rested, when suddenly he heard footsteps and the barking of a dog. A hunter, perhaps, thought Pablo, but no, only a young fellow, apparently a new arrival, in the holiday dress of a laborer.
“Good-morning, sir,” said the stranger. “Do you live alone here?”
“Only my little grandson and I. Why did you wish to know?”
“I must work here for a few weeks, and thought perhaps you might give me accommodation.”
“Very good, but what is your work?”
“I’m a wood-turner by trade. May I come and leave my bundle here?”
“Yes, why not? And now you have to return to the village?”
“No, only to the forest keeper’s where my things are. Tomorrow I will come back.”
“Very well, sir, you’ve come at a good time. Sit down for a bit. Is the dog yours?”
“Yes — come here, Dunaj!” The dog, pure white, came to his master’s side in one bound. “I shut him up in the house, but he found a way out and here he is.”
“What is your name, sir?”
“Martin Lesina.”
More than content to have someone to talk to, Juriga asked the stranger an endless string of questions concerning the city from whence he came, how the people lived there, the state of cultivation, and so on. Lesina, for his part, was told of all that was going on in the forest life around the cottage in order that he might not be deceived by any one.
“I am very short of money,” said Lesina, “and that is the reason I have come to cut wood for myself, instead of ordering it, as I usually do. I am, therefore, grateful to you for your good counsel, and will see you tomorrow.”
“He has a fine figure,” remarked Pablo to himself, as he watched his new acquaintance disappear through the forest. “He’s as straight as a pine, and it’s easy to see he’s been a soldier, and mighty intelligent, too! Nevertheless, in spite of his youth, he has a sad look about him, as of one who has nothing to hope for in this life. But where is Palko? He will be happy to see the dog, especially such a beautiful one! What can have kept him so long?”
The little boy had gone out early that morning looking for mushrooms. He had wandered far away up the mountain seeking the best places, and soon had quite a load. When Palko was ready to return, it occurred to him that since it was Sunday there was no particular reason to hurry home. He was very anxious to discover what might be on the other side of that towering mass of rock at the top of the mountain. He had looked at it day after day, saying to himself many times: “I wonder what kind of world it is that is hidden away on the other side.”
In bygone days, when his little Mother Anna was living, she used to tell him such delightful stories. He made her tell him one story in particular over and over again. It was about a king who had disappeared, and whose son had wandered everywhere seeking his father. One day, on arriving at a certain range of mountains, he saw an immense rock in front of him, and a golden-winged bird flew near, whispering in his ear to climb the rock, and assuring him that on the other side he would find a wonderful land called the Sunshine Country, where the sun never, never went down; and that there also he should find his father, the king. The boy at once began to climb, but many great monsters came out to bar his path. One was a serpent, another a lion, and then a bear. But there came a most valiant knight in shining armor to help him, mounted on a fiery steed, who put to flight his enemies and carried the little boy on his horse to the royal palace in the Sunshine Country, where he found his long-lost father, the king.
In the village school Palko had asked the teacher where he could find the Sunshine Country, where the sun never went down, for he could not seem to find it on his map. His teacher replied, laughing, that he would find it in the Land of Stories, which did not appear anywhere in geography.
How many times since then had Palko desired to find that Land of Stories. Now, who knows? thought Palko. Perhaps it was there behind that great peak in front of him, with its head shrouded in a cloud like the hood over the head of some monk he had seen in the streets of the town. If it should be so, as in the fairy story of Cinecienta, he would cry ‘a cloud in front and a cloud behind,’ and immediately there would open to him, perhaps, his longed-for Sunshine Country.
“Today I have the time and I am going.” Leaving his load of mushrooms where he could easily find it on his return, Palko began to climb the steep path that led to the peak.
“Surely it must be there on the other side,” said Palko to himself, impatient to arrive at the top. “I’ve seen the sun disappear so many times behind that peak and I know it never sets in the Sunshine Country, so there’s no night there, and it must be warm always.” With the exertion of climbing he began to feel hot already.
Finally, on arrival at the top of that last and highest crag, he saw, at his feet on the other side, a beautiful valley completely enclosed by mountains on all sides, and flooded throughout with the sunshine of a May day. The great rock on which he stood slanted downwards in a series of steeply-graded terraces to the bottom of the valley, where, like a beautiful green carpet, there lay a huge green field full of violets. From the rock itself flowed a crystal spring that descended into the valley, like a silver-plated serpent, bordered with rosebushes and wild cherries.
In contrast with the somber forest he had left behind, silence did not reign here. The blackbirds called, the chaffinches and thrushes answered, and the squirrels hopped about everywhere. Such a stirring, such animation, and abundant life showed on all sides.
“Yes, indeed!” said Palko joyfully to himself. “This must be the Sunshine Country!”
To better study all these marvels spread out before his eyes, he placed his foot carefully on a stone a little below the ledge. Just then he saw an astonishing thing. Down where the little spring sprang from the mountain was what appeared to be a hole in the rock. He scrambled down to find that the opening was so small he could enter only on all fours. Happily, through a cleft above, a stray beam of sunshine allowed one to see the interior. The little cave apparently was, or had been at one time, a dwelling-place for someone, for in the middle of it was a table and a bench. From the walls hung cobwebs, and on the floor a quantity of dry moss had gathered, brought in by the wind.
“It’s a dwelling sure enough!” exclaimed Palko. “I wonder who lives here?”
He entered with a thrill and spied something on the table — a book!
Opening it, Palko began to read the words he found written on the first page:
“Whoever you are, you who takes this sacred volume in your hand — read it with perseverance and attention, line after line. It shall teach you the Way that leads from this vale of tears to the country where there is no night and where the sun never goes down, the land of light and happiness eternal!”
It was true! He had not been mistaken! This mysterious little black book would show him the road to the Sunshine Country! So it existed after all, really and truly, even though it couldn’t be found in the map at school. Palko seated himself and, with hands supporting his head, began to read. He had a great desire to skip the first page, for it contained nothing but a string of names of men and women; but the words written on the inside of the front cover said that the book should be read line after line.
The names were probably those of the country he was seeking, and such strange names they were; but, of course, no doubt quite common where they lived. After these came some well-known names, Joseph and Mary, and then a beautiful name, Emmanuel, which it seemed meant ‘God with us’.
Then the book said that a boy had been born, and they had given him the name of Jesus. What a beautiful name, even more so than Emmanuel. Palko had heard often the expression, ‘Jesus be praised’ as used by his neighbors, and also in moments of sudden fear, ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Could they be the same ones spoken of in the book? His grandfather would say in certain critical moments, ‘Lord God, help me!’ and so now did Palko, before continuing with his reading. What followed was not so difficult to understand. The book told how, at the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, there was a certain man named Herod, who appeared to be the king of the country. Some wise men came to the king, desirous of seeing this wonderful baby. What was this Star they had seen in the East, which seemed to have something to do with the boy they wanted to see? But since no one was able to show them, they just followed the star until it stopped over a house in Bethlehem, and there in that very house they found the boy Jesus. He must’ve been some enchanted prince, seeing that they fell on their knees before him, and, filled with great awe and respect, offered him gold, frankincense and myrrh (These last two gifts, would they be, perhaps, some kind of food?). After this they returned to their own land by an entirely different road, for God had ordered them so to do.
“O how beautiful it all is!” exclaimed Palko, clapping his hands with delight. “This man Herod was like a dragon that wanted to devour the boy Jesus, but he couldn’t, for an angel came by night and made them all go away, Mary, Joseph and the boy. What a kind gentleman Joseph was, but what a terrible thing happened then, when the terrible dragon man killed all the children, and the mothers cried as if they could never be comforted. How many things I have learned today about the Sunshine Country! But I must be content with this, otherwise grandfather will be worried about me. After all, it’s not so far away from home, and I can come back every day, every Sunday anyway. I do so want to know what happened to the enchanted prince, and also to discover for myself the road to the Sunshine Country.”