This is a folk tale (edited slightly for punctuation) that was linked to on another forum. The responses there were varied, some religious, some secular. I was hoping to see what people on this forum thought of the tale and what it may, significantly, mean. What do you think it means?
Also, is its meaning obvious to you?
(Everyone is welcome to respond, even if you think you're wrong. *grin*)
The Seventh Father of the House
[SIZE=+3]T[/SIZE]here was once a man who [was] traveling. He came, at last, to a beautiful big farm. It had a manor house so fine that it could easily have been a small castle. "This will be a good place to rest," he said to himself as he went trough the gate. An old man, with gray hair and beard, was chopping wood nearby. "Good evening, father," said the traveler. "Can you put me up for the night?"
"I'm not the father of the house," said the old one. "Go into the kitchen and talk to my father." The traveler went into the kitchen. There he found a man who was even older, down on his knees in front of the hearth, blowing on the fire. "Good evening, father. Can you put me up for the night?" said the traveler.
"I'm not the father of the house," said the old fellow. "But go in and talk to my father. He's sitting by the table in the parlor." So the traveler went into the parlor and talked to the man who was sitting by the table. He was much older than both the others were, and he sat, shivering and shaking, his teeth chattering, reading from a big book almost like a little child. "Good evening, father. Will you put me up for the night?" said the man.
"I'm not the father of the house, but talk to my father, who's sitting on the settle," said the old man, who sat by the table, shivering and shaking, his teeth chattering. So the traveler went over to the one who was sitting on the settle, and he was busy trying to smoke a pipe of tobacco. But he was so huddled up, and his hands shook so that he could hardly hold onto the pipe. "Good evening, father," said the traveler again. "Can you put me up for the night?"
"I'm not the father of the house," replied the huddled up old fellow, "but talk to my father who is lying in the bed." The traveler went over to the bed; and there lay and old, old man in whom there were no sign of life but a pair of big eyes. "Good evening, father. Can you put me up for the night?" said the traveler.
"I'm not the father of the house, but talk to my father who's lying in the cradle," said the man with the big eyes. Well, the traveler went over to the cradle. There lay an ancient fellow, so shriveled up that he was no bigger than a baby was. And there was no way of telling there was life in him except for a rattle in his throat now and then. "Good evening, father. Can you put me up for the night?" asked the man.
It took a long time before he got an answer, and even longer before the fellow finished it. He said - he like all the others - that he was not the father of the house. "But talk to my father. He's hanging in the horn on the wall."
The traveler stared up along the walls, and at last he caught sign of the horn, too. [But] when he tried to see the one who was lying in it, there was nothing to see but a little ash-white form that had the likeness of a human face. Then he was so frightened that he cried aloud: "GOOD EVENING FATHER! WILL YOU PUT ME UP FOR THE NIGHT?"
There was a squeaking sound up in the horn like a tiny titmouse, and it was all he could do to make out that the sound meant: "Yes, my child" Then in came a table decked with the costliest dishes, and with ale and spirits, too. And when the traveler had eaten and drunk, in came a good bed covered with reindeer hides. And he was very glad that at last he had found the true father of the house.
Also, is its meaning obvious to you?
(Everyone is welcome to respond, even if you think you're wrong. *grin*)
The Seventh Father of the House
[SIZE=+3]T[/SIZE]here was once a man who [was] traveling. He came, at last, to a beautiful big farm. It had a manor house so fine that it could easily have been a small castle. "This will be a good place to rest," he said to himself as he went trough the gate. An old man, with gray hair and beard, was chopping wood nearby. "Good evening, father," said the traveler. "Can you put me up for the night?"
"I'm not the father of the house," said the old one. "Go into the kitchen and talk to my father." The traveler went into the kitchen. There he found a man who was even older, down on his knees in front of the hearth, blowing on the fire. "Good evening, father. Can you put me up for the night?" said the traveler.
"I'm not the father of the house," said the old fellow. "But go in and talk to my father. He's sitting by the table in the parlor." So the traveler went into the parlor and talked to the man who was sitting by the table. He was much older than both the others were, and he sat, shivering and shaking, his teeth chattering, reading from a big book almost like a little child. "Good evening, father. Will you put me up for the night?" said the man.
"I'm not the father of the house, but talk to my father, who's sitting on the settle," said the old man, who sat by the table, shivering and shaking, his teeth chattering. So the traveler went over to the one who was sitting on the settle, and he was busy trying to smoke a pipe of tobacco. But he was so huddled up, and his hands shook so that he could hardly hold onto the pipe. "Good evening, father," said the traveler again. "Can you put me up for the night?"
"I'm not the father of the house," replied the huddled up old fellow, "but talk to my father who is lying in the bed." The traveler went over to the bed; and there lay and old, old man in whom there were no sign of life but a pair of big eyes. "Good evening, father. Can you put me up for the night?" said the traveler.
"I'm not the father of the house, but talk to my father who's lying in the cradle," said the man with the big eyes. Well, the traveler went over to the cradle. There lay an ancient fellow, so shriveled up that he was no bigger than a baby was. And there was no way of telling there was life in him except for a rattle in his throat now and then. "Good evening, father. Can you put me up for the night?" asked the man.
It took a long time before he got an answer, and even longer before the fellow finished it. He said - he like all the others - that he was not the father of the house. "But talk to my father. He's hanging in the horn on the wall."
The traveler stared up along the walls, and at last he caught sign of the horn, too. [But] when he tried to see the one who was lying in it, there was nothing to see but a little ash-white form that had the likeness of a human face. Then he was so frightened that he cried aloud: "GOOD EVENING FATHER! WILL YOU PUT ME UP FOR THE NIGHT?"
There was a squeaking sound up in the horn like a tiny titmouse, and it was all he could do to make out that the sound meant: "Yes, my child" Then in came a table decked with the costliest dishes, and with ale and spirits, too. And when the traveler had eaten and drunk, in came a good bed covered with reindeer hides. And he was very glad that at last he had found the true father of the house.
