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That night the spirit of the dog came in his dream and said, “Cut down the pine tree

over my grave, and build from it a mortar for your rice pastry and a mill for your bean
sauce.”

So the old man cut down the tree and took out of the middle of the trunk a part about
two feet long. With great labour, partly by fire, partly by the chisel, he made a hollow

place as big as a small bowl. He then made hammer of wood with a long handle, such
as is used for pounding rice. When New Year approached near, he wished to prepare

some rice pastry. When the rice was all boiled, it was stuffed into the mortar, the old
man lifted his hammer to beat the mass into dough, and the blows fell heavy and fast till

the pastry could be baked. Suddenly the whole mass turned into a heap of gold coins.
When the old woman took the hand-mill, and stuffing it with beans stared to grind, the

gold began to rain in the form of drops. Meanwhile the resentful neighbour peeped
in at the window when the boiled beans were being ground. “Goody me!” cried the

old hag, as she watched each dripping of sauce turning into yellow gold, within a few
minutes a shining mass of gold had filled the tube under the mill. So the old couple was

richer now. The following day the stingy and wicked neighbour came and borrowed the
mortar and magic mill. They filled one with boiled rice and the other with beans. Then

the old man started pounding and the woman grinding.
But at the first blow and turn, the pastry and sauce changed into a foul mass of worms.

This made them angry, they chopped the mill into pieces, to use as fuel.
PART II

Not much later that, the nice old man dreamed again, and the spirit of the dog spoke
to him, telling him how the wicked neighbour had burned the mill made from the pine

tree. “Bring the ashes of the mill, spray them on the withered trees, and they will
bloom again,” said the dog-spirit.

The old man awoke and went at once to his wicked neighbour’s house, the miserable old
pair was sitting at the edge of their square fireplace, in the middle of the floor, smoking

and spinning. From time to time they warmed their hands and feet with the blaze from
some bits of the mill, there was a pile of pieces lay behind them. The good old man

humbly demanded the ashes. Though the envious couple turned up their noses at him
and scolded him as if he is a thief, they allowed him to take the ashes.

On reaching home, the old man took his wife into the garden. It was winter so there
was no fruit on their favourite cherry tree. He sprinkled a pinch of ashes on it, and, lo!

it began to sprout blossoms until it became a cloud of pink blooms which filled the air

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