{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36696/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36696","id":"gutenberg_36696","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36696","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- India","Folklore -- India"],"text":"\n\n\n\nProduced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n OLD\n DECCAN DAYS\n\n OR\n\n HINDOO FAIRY LEGENDS\n\n _CURRENT IN SOUTHERN INDIA._\n\n\n COLLECTED FROM ORAL TRADITION,\n BY M. FRERE.\n\n WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES,\n BY SIR BARTLE FRERE.\n\n\n [Decoration]\n\n\n PHILADELPHIA\n J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.\n 1870.\n\n\n Lippincott's Press, Philadelphia.\n\n\n\n\n [Illustration: VICRAM MAHARAJAH--p. 133.]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n PAGE\n INTRODUCTION 5\n\n THE COLLECTOR'S APOLOGY 12\n\n THE NARRATOR'S NARRATIVE 15\n\n 1. PUNCHKIN 27\n\n 2. A FUNNY STORY 44\n\n 3. BRAVE SEVENTEE BAI 51\n\n 4. TRUTH'S TRIUMPH 81\n\n 5. RAMA AND LUXMAN; OR, THE LEARNED OWL 98\n\n 6. LITTLE SURYA BAI 113\n\n 7. THE WANDERINGS OF VICRAM MAHARAJAH 129\n\n 8. LESS INEQUALITY THAN MEN DEEM 161\n\n 9. PANCH-PHUL RANEE 164\n\n 10. HOW THE SUN, THE MOON AND THE WIND WENT OUT\n TO DINNER 194\n\n 11. SINGH RAJAH AND THE CUNNING LITTLE JACKALS 196\n\n 12. THE JACKAL, THE BARBER AND THE BRAHMIN WHO HAD\n SEVEN DAUGHTERS 199\n\n 13. TIT FOR TAT 218\n\n 14. THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER AND THE SIX JUDGES 220\n\n 15. THE SELFISH SPARROW AND THE HOUSELESS CROWS 225\n\n 16. THE VALIANT CHATTEE-MAKER 227\n\n 17. THE RAKSHAS' PALACE 236\n\n 18. THE BLIND MAN, THE DEAF MAN AND THE DONKEY 248\n\n 19. MUCHIE LAL 258\n\n 20. CHUNDUN RAJAH 268\n\n 21. SODEWA BAI 280\n\n 22. CHANDRA'S VENGEANCE 291\n\n 23. HOW THE THREE CLEVER MEN OUTWITTED THE DEMONS 314\n\n 24. THE ALLIGATOR AND THE JACKAL 326\n\n NOTES 333\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nA few words seem necessary regarding the origin of these stories, in\naddition to what the Narrator says for herself in her Narrative, and\nwhat is stated in the Collector's \"Apology.\"\n\nWith the exception of two or three, which will be recognized as\nsubstantially identical with stories of Pilpay or other well-known\nHindoo fabulists, I never before heard any of these tales among the\nMahrattas, in that part of the Deccan where the Narrator and her\nfamily have lived for the last two generations; and it is probable\nthat most of the stories were brought from among the Lingaets of\nSouthern India, the tribe, or rather sect, to which Anna de Souza\ntells us her family belonged before their conversion to Christianity.\n\nThe Lingaets form one of the most strongly marked divisions of the\nHindoo races south of the river Kistna. They are generally a\nwell-favored, well-to-do people, noticeable for their superior\nfrugality, intelligence and industry, and for the way in which they\ncombine and act together as a separate body apart from other Hindoos.\nThey have many peculiarities of costume, of social ceremony and of\nreligion, which strike even a casual observer; and though clearly not\naboriginal, they seem to have much ground for their claim to belong to\na more ancient race and an earlier wave of immigration than most of\nthe Hindoo nations with which they are now intermingled.\n\nThe country they inhabit is tolerably familiar to most English readers\non Indian subjects, for it is the theatre of many of the events\ndescribed in the great Duke's earlier despatches, and in the writings\nof Munro, of Wilkes, and of Buchanan. The extraordinary beauty of some\nof the natural features of the coast scenery, and the abundance of\nthe architectural and other remains of powerful and highly civilized\nHindoo dynasties, have attracted the attention of tourists and\nantiquaries, though not to the extent their intrinsic merit deserves.\nSome knowledge of the land tenures and agriculture of the country is\naccessible to readers of Indian blue-books.\n\nBut of all that relates to the ancient history and politics of the\nformer Hindoo sovereigns of these regions very little is known to the\ngeneral reader, though from their power, and riches and long-sustained\ncivilization, as proved by the monuments these rulers have left behind\nthem there are few parts of India better worth the attention of the\nhistorian and antiquary.\n\nOf the inner life of the people, past or present, of their social\npeculiarities and popular beliefs, even less is known or procurable in\nany published form. With the exception of a few graphic and\ncharacteristic notices of shrewd observers like Munro, little\nregarding them is to be found in the writings of any author likely to\ncome in the way of ordinary readers.\n\nBut this is not from want of materials: a good deal has been published\nin India, though, with the common fate of Indian publications, the\nbooks containing the information are often rare in English\ncollections, and difficult to meet with in England, except in a few\npublic libraries. Of unpublished material there must be a vast amount,\ncollected not only by the government servants, but by missionaries,\nand others residing in the country, who have peculiar opportunities\nfor observation, and for collecting information not readily to be\nobtained by a stranger or an official. Collections of this kind are\nspecially desirable as regards the popular non-Brahminical\nsuperstitions of the lower orders.\n\nFew, even of those who have lived many years in India and made some\ninquiry regarding the external religion of its inhabitants, are aware\nhow little the popular belief of the lower classes has in common with\nthe Hindooism of the Brahmins, and how much it differs in different\nprovinces, and in different races and classes in the same province.\n\nIn the immediate vicinity of Poona, where Brahminism seems so\northodox and powerful, a very little observation will satisfy the\ninquirer that the favorite objects of popular worship do not always\nbelong to the regular Hindoo Pantheon. No orthodox Hindoo deity is so\npopular in the Poona Deccan as the deified sage Vithoba and his\nearlier expounders, both sage and followers being purely local\ndivinities. Wherever a few of the pastoral tribes are settled, there\nByroba, the god of the herdsmen, or Kundoba, the deified hero of the\nshepherds, supersedes all other popular idols. Byroba the Terrible,\nand other remnants of Fetish or of Snake-worship, everywhere divide\nthe homage of the lower castes with the recognized Hindoo divinities,\nwhile outside almost every village the circle of large stones sacred\nto Vetal, the demon-god of the outcast helot races, which reminds the\ntraveler of the Druid circles of the northern nations, has for ages\nheld, and still holds, its ground against all Brahminical innovations.\n\nSome of these local or tribal divinities, when their worshipers are\nvery numerous or powerful, have been adopted into the Hindoo Olympus\nas incarnations or manifestations of this or that orthodox divinity,\nand one or two have been provided with elaborate written legends\nconnecting them with some known Puranic character or event; but, in\ngeneral, the true history of the local deity, if it survives at all,\nis to be found only in popular tradition; and it thus becomes a matter\nof some ethnological and historical importance to secure all such\nfleeting remnants of ancient superstition before they are forgotten as\ncivilization advances.\n\nSome information of this kind is to be gleaned even from the present\nseries of legends, though the object of the collector being simply\namusement, and not antiquarian research, any light which is thrown on\nthe popular superstitions of the country is only incidental.\n\nOf the superhuman personages who appear in them, the \"Rakshas\" is the\nmost prominent. This being has many features in common with the\ndemoniacal Ogre of other lands. The giant bulk and terrible teeth of\nhis usual form are the universal attributes of his congener. His habit\nof feasting on dead bodies will remind the reader of the Arabian\nGhoul, while the simplicity and stupidity which qualify the\nsupernatural powers of the Rakshas, and usually enable the\nquick-witted mortal to gain the victory over him, will recall many\nhumorous passages in which giants figure in our own Norse and Teutonic\nlegends.\n\nThe English reader must bear in mind that in India beings of this or\nof very similar nature are not mere traditions of the past, but that\nthey form an important part of the existing practical belief of the\nlower orders. Grown men will sometimes refuse every inducement to pass\nat night near the supposed haunt of a Rakshas, and I have heard the\ncries of a belated traveler calling for help attributed to a Rakshas\nluring his prey.\n\nNor is darkness always an element in this superstition: I have known a\nbold and experienced tracker of game gravely assert that some figures\nwhich he had been for some time keenly scanning on the bare summit of\na distant hill were beings of this order, and he was very indignant at\nthe laugh which his observation provoked from his less-experienced\nEuropean disciple. \"If your telescope could see as far as my old\neyes,\" the veteran said, \"or if you knew the movements of all the\nanimals of this hunting-ground as well as I do, you would see that\nthose must be demons and nothing else. No men nor animals at this time\nof day would collect on an open space and move about in that way.\nBesides, that large rock close by them is a noted place for demons;\nevery child in the village knows that.\"\n\nI have heard another man of the same class, when asked why he looked\nso intently at a human footstep in the forest pathway, gravely\nobserved that the footmark looked as if the foot which made it had\nbeen walking heel-foremost, and must therefore have been made by a\nRakshas, \"for they always walked so when in human form.\"\n\nAnother expressed particular dread of a human face, the eyes of which\nwere placed at an exaggerated angle to each other, like those of a\nChinese or Malay, \"because that position of the eyes was the only way\nin which you could recognize a Rakshas in human shape.\"\n\nIn the more advanced and populous parts of the country the Rakshas\nseems giving way to the \"Bhoot,\" which more nearly resembles the mere\nghost of modern European superstition; but even in this diluted form\nsuch beings have an influence over Indian imaginations to which it is\ndifficult in these days to find any parallel in Europe.\n\nI found, quite lately, a traditionary order in existence at Government\nHouse, Dapoorie, near Poona, which directed the native sentry on guard\n\"to present arms if a cat or dog, jackal or goat, entered or left the\nhouse or crossed near his beat\" during certain hours of the night,\n\"because it was the ghost\" of a former governor, who was still\nremembered as one of the best and kindest of men.\n\nHow or when the custom originated I could not learn, but the order had\nbeen verbally handed on from one native sergeant of the guard to\nanother for many years, without any doubts as to its propriety or\nauthority, till it was accidentally overheard by an European officer\nof the governor's staff.\n\nIn the hills and deserts of Sind the belief in beings of this order,\nas might be expected in a wild and desolate country, is found strong\nand universal; there, however, the Rakshas has changed his name to\nthat of our old friend the \"Gin\" of the Arabian Nights, and he has\nsomewhat approximated in character to the Pwcca or Puck of our own\ncountry. The Gin of the Beelooch hills is wayward and often morose,\nbut not necessarily malignant. His usual form is that of a dwarfish\nhuman being, with large eyes and covered with long hair, and apt to\nbreathe with a heavy snoring kind of noise. From the circumstantial\naccounts I have heard of such \"Gins\" being seen seated on rocks at the\nside of lonely passes, I suspect that the great horned eagle-owl,\nwhich is not uncommon in the hill-country of Sind, has to answer for\nmany well-vouched cases of Gin apparition.\n\nThe Gin does not, however, always retain his own shape; he frequently\nchanges to the form of a camel, goat or other animal. If a Gin be\naccidentally met, it is recommended that the traveler should show no\nsign of fear, and, above all, keep a civil tongue in his head, for the\ndemon has a special aversion to bad language. Every Beelooch has heard\nof instances in which such chance acquaintanceships with Gins have not\nonly led to no mischief, but been the source of much benefit to the\nfortunate mortal who had the courage and prudence to turn them to\naccount; for a Gin once attached to a man will work hard and\nfaithfully for him, and sometimes show him the entrance to those great\nsubterranean caverns under the hills, where there is perpetual spring,\nand trees laden with fruits of gold and precious stones; but the\nmortal once admitted to such a paradise is never allowed to leave it.\nThere are few neighborhoods in the Beelooch hills which cannot show\nhuge stones, apparently intended for building, which have been, \"as\nall the country-side knows,\" moved by such agency, and the entrance to\nthe magic cavern is never very far off, though the boldest Beelooch is\nseldom very willing to show or to seek for the exact spot.\n\nSuperstitions nearly identical were still current within the last\nforty years, when I was a boy, on the borders of Wales. In Cwm Pwcca\n(the Fairies' Glen), in the valley of the Clydach, between Abergavenny\nand Merthyr, the cave used to be shown into which a belated miner was\ndecoyed by the Pwccas, and kept dancing for ten years; and a\nfarm-house on the banks of the Usk, not far off, was, in the last\ngeneration, the abode of a farmer who had a friendly Pwcca in his\nservice. The goblin was called Pwcca Trwyn, as I was assured from his\noccasionally being visible as a huge human nose. He would help the\nmortal by carrying loads and mending hedges, but usually worked only\nwhile the farmer slept at noon, and always expected as his guerdon a\nportion of the toast and ale which his friend had for dinner in the\nfield. If none was left for him, he would cease to work; and he once\nroused the farmer from his noontide slumbers by thrashing him soundly\nwith his own hedging-stake.\n\nThe Peris or Fairies of these stories have nothing distinctive about\nthem. Like the fairies of other lands, they often fall in love with\nmortal men, and are visible to the pure eyes of childhood when hidden\nfrom the grosser vision of maturer years.\n\nNext to the Rakshas, the Cobra, or deadly hooded snake, plays the most\nimportant part in these legends as a supernatural personage. This is\none only of the many traces still extant of that serpent-worship\nformerly so general in Western India. I have no doubt that Mr.\nFerguson, in his forthcoming work on Bhuddhist antiquities, will throw\nmuch light on this curious subject. I will, therefore, only now\nobserve that this serpent-worship as it still exists is something more\nactive than a mere popular superstition. The Cobra, unless disturbed,\nrarely goes far from home, and is supposed to watch jealously over a\nhidden treasure. He is always, in the estimation of the lower classes,\ninvested with supernatural powers, and according to the treatment he\nreceives he builds up or destroys the fortunes of the house to which\nhe belongs. No native will willingly kill him if he can get rid of him\nin any other way; and the poorer classes always, after he is killed,\ngive him all the honors of a regular cremation, assuring him, with\nmany protestations, as the pile burns, \"that they are guiltless of his\nblood; that they slew him by order of their master,\" or \"that they had\nno other way to prevent his biting the children or the chickens.\"\n\nA very interesting discussion on the subject of the Snake Race of\nAncient India, between Mr. Bayley and Baboo Rajendralal Mitr, will be\nfound in the _Proceedings of the Asiatic Society of Bengal_, for\nFebruary, 1867.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COLLECTOR'S APOLOGY.\n\n\nThe collection of these legends was commenced with the object of\namusing a favorite young friend of mine. It was continued, as they\nappeared in themselves curious illustrations of Indian popular\ntradition, and in the hope that something might thus be done to rescue\nthem from the danger of oral transmission.\n\nThough varied in their imagery, the changes between the different\nlegends are rung upon very few themes, as if purposely confined to\nwhat was most familiar to the people. The similarity between the\nincidents in some of these and in favorite European stories,\nparticularly modern German ones, is curious; and the leading\ncharacteristics peculiar to all orthodox fairy tales are here\npreserved intact. Step-mothers are always cruel, and step-sisters,\ntheir willing instruments; giants and ogres always stupid; youngest\ndaughters more clever than their elder sisters; and the Jackal (like\nhis European cousin the Fox) usually overcomes every difficulty, and\nproves a bright moral example of the success of wit against brute\nforce--the triumph of mind over matter.\n\nIt is remarkable that in the romances of a country where women are\ngenerally supposed by us to be regarded as mere slaves or intriguers,\ntheir influence (albeit most frequently put to proof behind the\nscenes) should be made to appear so great, and, as a rule, exerted\nwholly for good; and that, in a land where despotism has such a firm\nhold on the hearts of the people, the liberties of the subject should\nbe so boldly asserted as by the old Milkwoman to the Rajah in \"Little\nSurya Bai,\" or the old Malee[1] to the Rajah in \"Truth's Triumph;\"\nand few, probably would have expected to find the Hindoos owning such\na romance as \"Brave Seventee Bai;\"[2] or to meet with such stories as\n\"The Valiant Chattee-maker,\" and \"The Blind Man, the Deaf Man and the\nDonkey,\" among a nation which, it has been constantly asserted,\npossesses no humor, no sense of the ridiculous, and cannot understand\na joke.\n\n [1] Gardener.\n\n [2] Was this narrative of feminine sagacity invented by some old\n woman, who felt aggrieved at the general contempt entertained for\n her sex?\n\nIn \"The Narrator's Narrative\" Anna Liberata de Souza's own story is\nrelated, as much as possible, in her own words of expressive but\nbroken English. She did not, however, tell it in one continuous\nnarrative: it is the sum of many conversations I had with her during\nthe eighteen months that she was with us.\n\nThe legends themselves are altered as little as possible: half their\ncharm, however, consisted in the Narrator's eager, flexible voice and\ngraphic gestures.\n\nI often asked her if there were no stories of elephants having done\nwonderful deeds (as from their strength and sagacity one would have\nimagined them to possess all the qualifications requisite to heroes of\nromance); but, strange to say, she knew of none in which elephants\nplayed any part whatsoever.\n\nAs regards the Oriental names, they have generally been written as\nAnna pronounced them. It was frequently not possible to give the true\northography, and the correctly spelt name does not always give a clue\nto the popular pronunciation. So with the interpretations and\ngeography. Where it is possible to identify what is described, an\nattempt has been made to do so; but for other explanations Anna's is\nthe sole authority: she was quite sure that \"Seventee Bai\" meant the\n\"Daisy Lady,\" though no botanist would acknowledge the plant under\nthat name; and she was satisfied that all gentlemen who have traveled\nknow where \"Agra Brum\" is, though she had never been there, and no\nsuch province appears in any ordinary Gazeteer or description of the\ncity of Akbar.\n\nThese few legends, told by one old woman to her grandchildren, can\nonly be considered as representatives of a class. \"That world,\" to\nuse her own words, \"is gone;\" and those who can tell us about it in\nthis critical and unimaginative age are fast disappearing too before\nthe onward march of civilization; yet there must be in the country\nmany a rich gold mine unexplored. Will no one go to the diggings?\n\n M. F.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NARRATOR'S NARRATIVE.\n\n\nMy grandfather's family were of the Lingaet caste, and lived in\nCalicut; but they went and settled near Goa at the time the English\nwere there. It was there my grandfather became a Christian. He and his\nwife, and all the family, became Christians at once, and when his\nfather heard it he was very angry, and turned them all out of the\nhouse. There were very few Christians in those days. Now you see\nChristians everywhere, but then we were very proud to see one\nanywhere. My grandfather was Havildar[3] in the English army, and when\nthe English fought against Tippo Sahib, my grandmother followed him\nall through the war. She was a very tall, fine, handsome woman, and\nvery strong; wherever the regiment marched she went, on, on, on, on\n(great deal hard work that old woman done). Plenty stories my granny\nused to tell about Tippo and how Tippo was killed, and about Wellesley\nSahib, and Monro Sahib, and Malcolm Sahib, and Elphinstone Sahib.[4]\nPlenty things had that old woman heard and seen. Ah, he was a good\nman, Elphinstone Sahib! My granny used often to tell us how he would\ngo down and say to the soldiers, \"Baba,[5] Baba, fight well. Win the\nbattles, and each man shall have his cap full of money; and after the\nwar is over I'll send every one of you to his own home.\" (And he did\ndo it.) Then we children plenty proud, when we heard what Elphinstone\nSahib had said. In those days the soldiers were not low-caste people\nlike they are now. Many, very high-caste men, and come from very far,\nfrom Goa, and Calicut, and Malabar to join the English.\n\n [3] Sergeant of native troops.\n\n [4] The Duke of Wellington, Sir Thomas Monro, Sir John Malcolm and\n Mr. Mountstuart Elphinstone.\n\n [5] My children.\n\nMy father was a tent lascar,[6] and when the war was over my\ngrandfather had won five medals for all the good he had done, and my\nfather had three; and my father was given charge of the Kirkee\nstores.[7] My grandmother and mother, and all the family, were in\nthose woods behind Poona at time of the battle at Kirkee.[8] I've\noften heard my father say how full the river was after the\nbattle--baggage and bundles floating down, and men trying to swim\nacross--and horses and all such a bustle. Many people got good things\non that day. My father got a large chattee,[9] and two good ponies\nthat were in the river, and he took them home to camp; but when he got\nthere the guard took them away. So all his trouble did him no good.\n\n [6] Tent-pitcher.\n\n [7] The Field Arsenal at Kirkee (near Poona).\n\n [8] The battle which decided the fate of the Deccan, and led to the\n downfall of Bajee Row Peishwa, and extinction of Mahratta rule.\n Fought 13th November, 1817. See Note A.\n\n [9] A Jar.\n\nWe were poor people, but living was cheap, and we had plenty comfort.\n\nIn those days house rent did not cost more than half a rupee[10] a\nmonth, and you could build a very comfortable house for a hundred\nrupees. Not such good houses as people now live in, but well enough\nfor people like us. Then a whole family could live as comfortably on\nsix or seven rupees a month as they can now on thirty. Grain, now a\nrupee a pound, was then two annas a pound. Common sugar, then one anna\na pound, is now worth four annas a pound. Oil which then sold for six\npice a bottle, now costs four annas. Four annas' worth of salt,\nchillies, tamarinds, onions and garlic, would then last a family a\nwhole month; now the same money would not buy a week's supply. Such\ndungeree[11] as you now pay half rupee a yard for, you could then buy\nfrom twenty to forty yards of, for the rupee. You could not get such\ngood calico then as now, but the dungeree did very well. Beef then\nwas a pice a pound, and the vegetables cost a pie a day. For half a\nrupee you could fill the house with wood. Water also was much cheaper.\nYou could then get a man to bring you two large skins full, morning\nand evening, for a pie; now he would not do it under half a rupee or\nmore. If the children came crying for fruit, a pie would get them as\nmany guavas as they liked in the bazaar. Now you'd have to pay that\nfor each guava. This shows how much more money people need now than\nthey did then.[12]\n\n [10] The following shows the Narrator's calculation of currency:\n\n 1 Pie = 1/4 of a cent.\n 3 Pie = 1 Pice.\n 4 Pice = 1 Anna.\n 16 Annas = 1 Rupee = about 50 cents.\n\n [11] A coarse cotton cloth.\n\n [12] See Note B.\n\nThe English fixed the rupee to the value of sixteen annas, in those\ndays there were some big annas, and some little ones, and you could\nsometimes get twenty-two annas for a rupee.\n\nI had seven brothers and one sister. Things were very different in\nthose days to what they are now. There were no schools then to send\nthe children to; it was only the great people who could read and\nwrite. If a man was known to be able to write he was plenty proud, and\nhundreds and hundreds of people would come to him to write their\nletters. Now you find a pen and ink in every house! I don't know what\ngood all this reading and writing does. My grandfather couldn't write,\nand my father couldn't write, and they did very well; but all's\nchanged now.\n\nMy father used to be out all day at his work, and my mother often went\nto do coolie-work,[13] and she had to take my father his dinner (my\nmother did plenty work in the world); and when my granny was strong\nenough she used sometimes to go into the bazaar, if we wanted money,\nand grind rice for the shop-keepers, and they gave her half a rupee\nfor her day's work, and used to let her have the bran and chaff\nbesides. But afterward she got too old to do that, and besides there\nwere so many of us children. So she used to stay at home and look\nafter us while my mother was at work. Plenty bother 'tis to look after\na lot of children. No sooner my granny's back turned than we all run\nout in the sun, and play with the dust and stones on the road.\n\n [13] Such work as is done by the Coolie caste, chiefly fetching and\n carrying heavy loads.\n\nThen my granny would call out to us, \"Come here, children, out of the\nsun, and I'll tell you a story. Come in; you'll all get headaches.\"\nSo she used to get us together (there were nine of us, and great\nlittle fidgets, like all children), into the house; and there she'd\nsit on the floor, and tell us one of the stories I tell you. But then\nshe used to make them last much longer, the different people telling\ntheir own stories from the beginning as often as possible; so that by\nthe time she'd got to the end, she had told the beginning over five or\nsix times. And so she went on, talk, talk, talk, Mera Bap reh![14]\nSuch a long time she'd go on for, till all the children got quite\ntired and fell asleep. Now there are plenty schools to which to send\nthe children, but there were no schools when I was a young girl; and\nthe old women, who could do nothing else, used to tell them stories to\nkeep them out of mischief.\n\n [14] Oh, my Father!\n\nWe used sometimes to ask my grandmother, \"Are those stories you tell\nus really true? Were there ever such people in the world?\" She\ngenerally answered, \"I don't know, but maybe there are somewhere.\" I\ndon't believe there are any of those people living; I dare say,\nhowever, they did once live; but my granny believed more in those\nthings than we do now. She was a Christian, she worshiped God and\nbelieved in our Saviour, but still she would always respect the Hindoo\ntemples. If she saw a red stone, or an image of Gunputti[15] or any of\nthe other Hindoo gods, she would kneel down and say her prayers there,\nfor she used to say, \"Maybe there's something in it.\"\n\n [15] The Hindoo God of Wisdom.\n\nAbout all things she would tell us pretty stories--about men, and\nanimals, and trees, and flowers, and stars. There was nothing she did\nnot know some tale about. On the bright cold-weather nights, when you\ncan see more stars than at any other time of the year, we used to like\nto watch the sky, and she would show us the Hen and Chickens,[16] and\nthe Key,[17] and the Scorpion, and the Snake, and the Three Thieves\nclimbing up to rob the Ranee's silver bedstead, with their mother\n(that twinkling star far away) watching for her sons' return.\nPit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, you can see how her heart beats, for she is\nalways frightened, thinking, \"Perhaps they will be caught and hanged!\"\n\n [16] The Pleiades.\n\n [17] The Great Bear.\n\nThen she would show us the Cross,[18] that reminds us of our\nSaviour's, and the great pathway of light[19] on which He went up to\nheaven. It is what you call the Milky Way. My granny usen't to call it\nthat: she used to say that when our Lord returned up to heaven that\nwas the way He went, and that ever since it has shone in memory of His\nascension, so beautiful and bright.\n\n [18] The Southern Cross.\n\n [19] The Milky Way. This is an ancient Christian legend.\n\nShe always said a star with a smoky tail (comet) meant war, and she\nnever saw a falling star without saying, \"There's a great man died;\"\nbut the fixed stars she used to think were all really good people,\nburning like bright lamps before God.\n\nAs to the moon, my granny used to say she's most useful to debtors who\ncan't pay their debts. Thus: A man who borrows money he knows he\ncannot pay, takes the full moon for witness and surety. Then, if any\nman so silly as to lend him money and go and ask him for it, he can\nsay, \"The moon's my surety; go catch hold of the moon!\" Now, you see,\nno man can do that; and what's more, when the moon's once full, it\ngrows every night less and less, and at last goes out altogether.\n\nAll the Cobras in my grandmother's stories were seven-headed. This\npuzzled us children, and we would say to her, \"Granny, are there any\nseven-headed Cobras now? For all the Cobras we see that the conjurors\nbring round have only one head each.\" To which she used to answer,\n\"No, of course there are no seven-headed Cobras now. That world is\ngone, but you see each Cobra has a hood of skin; that is the remains\nof another head.\" Then we would say, \"Although none of those old\nseven-headed Cobras are alive now, maybe there are some of their\nchildren living somewhere.\" But at this my granny used to get vexed,\nand say, \"Nonsense! you are silly little chatter-boxes; get along with\nyou!\" And, though we often looked for the seven-headed Cobras, we\nnever could find any of them.\n\nMy old granny lived till she was nearly a hundred; when she got very\nold she rather lost her memory, and often made mistakes in the stories\nshe told us, telling a bit of one story and then joining on to it a\nbit of some other; for we children bothered her too much about them,\nand sometimes she used to get very tired of talking, and when we asked\nher for a story, would answer, \"You must ask your mother about it; she\ncan tell you.\"\n\nAh! those were happy days, and we had plenty ways to amuse ourselves.\nI was very fond of pets; I had a little dog that followed me\neverywhere, and played all sorts of pretty tricks, and I and my\nyoungest brother used to take the little sparrows out of their nests\non the roof of our house and tame them. These little birds got so fond\nof me they would always fly after me; as I was sweeping the floor one\nwould perch on my head, and two or three on my shoulders, and the rest\ncome fluttering after. But my poor father and mother used to shake\ntheir heads at me when they saw this, and say, \"Ah, naughty girl, to\ntake the little birds out of their nests: that stealing will bring you\nno good.\" All my family were very fond of music. You know that Rosie\n(my daughter) sings very nicely and plays upon the guitar, and my\nson-in-law plays on the pianoforte and the fiddle (we've got two\nfiddles in our house now), but Mera Bap reh! how well my grandfather\nsang! Sometimes of an evening he would drink a little toddy,[20] and\nbe quite cheerful, and sing away; and all we children liked to hear\nhim. I was very fond of singing. I had a good voice when I was young,\nand my father used to be so fond of making me sing, and I often sang\nto him that Calicut song about the ships sailing on the sea[21] and\nthe little wife watching for her husband to come back, and plenty more\nthat I forget now; and my father and brothers would be so pleased at\nmy singing, and laugh and say, \"That girl can do anything.\" But now my\nvoice is gone, and I didn't care to sing any more since my son died,\nand my heart been so sad.\n\n [20] An intoxicating drink made from the juice of the palm tree.\n\n [21] See Note C.\n\nIn those days there were much fewer houses in Poona than there are\nnow, and many more wandering gipsies, and such like. They were very\ntroublesome, doing nothing but begging and stealing, but people gave\nthem all they wanted, as it was believed that to incur their ill-will\nwas very dangerous. It was not safe even to speak harshly of them. I\nremember one day, when I was quite a little girl, running along by my\nmother's side, when she was on her way to the bazaar: we happened to\npass the huts of some of these people, and I said to her \"See, mother,\nwhat nasty, dirty people those are; they live in such ugly little\nhouses, and they look as if they never combed their hair nor washed.\"\nWhen I said this, my mother turned round quite sharply and boxed my\nears, saying, \"Because God has given you a comfortable home and good\nparents, is that any reason for you to laugh at others who are poorer\nand less happy?\" \"I meant no harm,\" I said; and when we got home I\ntold my father what my mother had done, and he said to her, \"Why did\nyou slap the child?\" She answered, \"If you want to know, ask your\ndaughter why I punished her. You will then be able to judge whether I\nwas right or not.\" So I told my father what I had said about the\ngipsies, and when I told him, instead of pitying me, he also boxed my\nears very hard. So that was all I got for telling tales against my\nmother!\n\nBut they both did it, fearing if I spoke evil of the gipsies and were\nnot instantly punished, some dreadful evil would befall me.\n\nIt was after my granny that I was named \"Anna Liberata.\" She died\nafter my father, and when I was eleven years old. Her eyes were quite\nbright, her hair black, and her teeth good to the last. If I'd been\nolder then, I should have been able to remember more of her stories.\nSuch a number as she used to tell! I'm afraid my sister would not be\nable to remember any of them. She has had much trouble; that puts\nthose sort of things out of people's heads; besides, she is a goose.\nShe is younger than I am, although you would think her so much older,\nfor her hair turned gray when she was very young, while mine is quite\nblack still. She is almost bald too, now, as she pulled out her hair\nbecause it was gray. I always said to her, \"Don't do so; for you can't\nmake yourself any younger, and it is better, when you are getting old,\nto look old. Then people will do whatever you ask them! But however\nold you may be, if you look young, they'll say to you, 'You are young\nenough and strong enough to do your own work yourself.'\"\n\nMy mother used to tell us stories too; but not so many as my granny.\nA few years ago there might be found several old people who knew those\nsorts of stories; but now children go to school, and nobody thinks of\nremembering or telling them--they'll soon be all forgotten. It is true\nthere are books with some stories something like these, but they\nalways put them down wrong. Sometimes when I cannot remember a bit of\na story, I ask some one about it; then they say, \"There is a story of\nthat name in my book. I don't know it, but I'll read.\" Then they read\nit to me, but it is all wrong, so that I get quite cross, and make\nthem shut up the book. For in the books they cut the stories quite\nshort, and leave out the prettiest part, and they jumble up the\nbeginning of one story with the end of another--so that it is\naltogether wrong.\n\nWhen I was young, old people used to be very fond of telling these\nstories; but instead of that, it seems to me that now the old people\nare fond of nothing but making money.\n\nThen I was married. I was twelve years old then. Our native people\nhave a very happy life till we marry. The girls live with their father\nand mother and brothers and sisters, and have got nothing to do but\namuse themselves, and got father and mother to take care of them; but\nafter they're married they go to live at their husband's house, and\nthe husband's mother and sisters are often very unkind to them.\n\nYou English people can't understand that sort of thing. When an\nEnglishman marries, he goes to a new house, and his wife is the\nmistress of it; but our native people are very different. If the\nfather is dead, the mother and unmarried sisters live in the son's\nhouse, and rule it; his wife is nothing in the house. And the mother\nand sisters say to the son's wife, \"This is not your house--you've not\nalways lived in it; you cannot be mistress here.\" And if the wife\ncomplains to her husband, and he speaks about it, they say, \"Very\nwell, if you are such an unnatural son, you'd better turn your mother\nand sisters out of doors; but while we live here, we'll rule the\nhouse.\" So there is always plenty fighting. It's not unkind of the\nmother and sisters--it's custom.\n\nMy husband was a servant in Government House--that was when Lord Clare\nwas governor here. When I was twenty years old, my husband died of a\nbad fever, and left me with two children--the boy and the girl, Rosie.\n\nI had no money to keep them with, so I said, \"I'll go to service,\" and\nmy mother-in-law said, \"How can you go with two children, and so young,\nand knowing nothing?\" But I said, \"I can learn, and I'll go;\" and a\nkind lady took me into her service. When I went to my first place, I\nhardly knew a word of English (though I knew our Calicut language, and\nPortuguese, and Hindostani, and Mahratti well enough), and I could not\nhold a needle. I was so stupid, like a Coolie-woman;[22] but my\nmistress was very kind to me, and I soon learnt; she did not mind the\ntrouble of teaching me. I often think, \"Where find such good Christian\npeople in these days?\" To take a poor, stupid woman and her two\nchildren into the house--for I had them both with me, Rosie and the\nboy. I was a sharp girl in those days; I did my mistress' work and I\nlooked after the children too. I never left them to any one else. If\nshe wanted me for a long time, I used to bring the children into the\nroom and set them down on the floor, so as to have them under my own\neye whilst I did her work. My mistress was very fond of Rosie, and used\nto teach her to work and read. After some time my mistress went home,\nand since then I have been in eight places.\n\n [22] A low caste--hewers of wood and drawers of water.\n\nMy brother-in-law was valet at that time to Napier Sahib, up in Sind.\nAll the people and servants were very fond of that Sahib. My\nbrother-in-law was with him for ten years; and he wanted me to go up\nthere to get place as ayah, and said, \"You quick, sharp girl, and know\nEnglish very well; you easily get good place and make plenty money.\"\nBut I such a foolish woman I would not go. I write and tell him, \"No,\nI can't come, for Sind such a long way off, and I cannot leave the\nchildren.\" I plenty proud then. I give up all for the children. But\nnow what good? I know your language. What use? To blow the fire? I\nonly a miserable woman, fit to go to cook-room and cook the dinner. So\ngo down in the world, a poor woman (not much good to have plenty in\nhead and empty pocket!) but if I'd been a man I might now be a\nFouzdar.[23]\n\n [23] Chief Constable.\n\nI was at Kolapore[24] at the time of the mutiny, and we had to run\naway in the middle of the night; but I've told you before all about\nthat. Then seven years ago my mother died (she was ninety when she\ndied), and we came back to live at Poona, and my daughter was married,\nand I was so happy and pleased.\n\n [24] Capital of the Kolapore State, in the Southern Mahratta country.\n\nI gave a feast then to three hundred people, and we had music and\ndancing, and my son, he so proud he dancing from morning to night, and\nrunning here and there arranging everything; and on that day I said,\n\"Throw the doors open, and any beggar, any poor person come here, give\nthem what they like to eat, for whoever comes shall have enough, since\nthere's no more work for me in the world.\" So, thinking I should be\nable to leave service, and give up work, I spent all the money I had\nleft. That was not very much, for in sending my son to school I'd\nspent a great deal. He was such a beauty boy--tall, straight,\nhandsome--and so clever. They used to say he looked more like my\nbrother than my son, and he said to me, \"Mammy, you've worked for us\nall your life; now I'm grown up, I'll get a clerk's place and work for\nyou. You shall work no more, but live in my house.\" But last year he\nwas drowned in the river. That was my great sad. Since then I couldn't\nlift up my head. I can't remember things now as I used to do, and all\nis muddled in my head, six and seven. It makes me sad sometimes to\nhear you laughing and talking so happy with your father and mother and\nall your family, when I think of my father, and mother, and brothers,\nand husband, and son, all dead and gone! No more happy home like that\nfor me. What should I care to live for? I would come to England with\nyou, for I know you would be good to me and bury me when I die, but I\ncannot go so far from Rosie. My one eye put out, my other eye left. I\ncould not lose it too. If it were not for Rosie and her children I\nshould like to travel about and see the world. There are four places I\nhave always wished to see--Calcutta, Madras, England and Jerusalem (my\npoor mother always wished to see Jerusalem, too--that her great hope);\nbut I shall not see them now. Many ladies wanted to take me to England\nwith them, and if I had gone I should have saved plenty money, but now\nit is too late to think of that. Besides, it would not be much use.\nWhat's the good of my saving money? Can I take it away with me when I\ndie? My father and grandfather did not do so, and they had enough to\nlive on till they died. I have enough for what I want, and I've plenty\npoor relations. They all come to me, asking for money, and I give it\nthem. I thank our Saviour there are enough good Christians here to\ngive me a slice of bread and cup of water when I can't work for it. I\ndo not fear to come to want.\n\n Government House,\n Parell, Bombay, 1866.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nOLD DECCAN DAYS.\n\nI.\n\n_PUNCHKIN._\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Rajah[25] who had seven beautiful\ndaughters. They were all good girls; but the youngest, named\nBalna,[26] was more clever than the rest. The Rajah's wife died when\nthey were quite little children, so these seven poor Princesses were\nleft with no mother to take care of them.\n\n [25] King.\n\n [26] The Little One.\n\nThe Rajah's daughters took it by turns to cook their father's dinner\nevery day,[27] whilst he was absent deliberating with his ministers on\nthe affairs of the nation.\n\n [27] See Notes at the end.\n\nAbout this time the Purdan[28] died, leaving a widow and one daughter;\nand every day, every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing\ntheir father's dinner, the Purdan's widow and daughter would come and\nbeg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her\nsisters, \"Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire\nat her own house. What does she want with ours? If we allow her to\ncome here, we shall suffer for it some day.\" But the other sisters\nwould answer, \"Be quiet, Balna; why must you always be quarreling with\nthis poor woman? Let her take some fire if she likes.\" Then the\nPurdan's widow used to go to the hearth and take a few sticks from it;\nand, whilst no one was looking, she would quickly throw some mud into\nthe midst of the dishes which were being prepared for the Rajah's\ndinner.\n\n [28] Or, more correctly, _Prudhan_, Prime Minister.\n\nNow the Rajah was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their\nmother's death they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in\norder to avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So,\nwhen he found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must\narise from their carelessness, as it appeared improbable that any one\nshould have put mud there on purpose; but being very kind, he did not\nlike to reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the currie was\nrepeated many successive days.\n\nAt last, one day, he determined to hide and watch his daughters\ncooking, and see how it all happened; so he went into the next room,\nand watched them through a hole in the wall.\n\nThere he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and\npreparing the currie, and as each dish was completed, they put it by\nthe fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Purdan's widow come\nto the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her dinner\nwith. Balna turned to her, angrily, and said, \"Why don't you keep fuel\nin your own house, and not come here every day and take ours?\nSisters, don't give this woman any more; let her buy it for herself.\"\n\nThen the eldest sister answered, \"Balna, let the poor woman take the\nwood and the fire; she does us no harm.\" But Balna replied, \"If you\nlet her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make\nus sorry for it, some day.\"\n\nThe Rajah then saw the Purdan's widow go to the place where all his\ndinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a\nlittle mud into each of the dishes.\n\nAt this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and\nbrought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had\nplayed this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him; and\nshe spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words,\nthat instead of punishing her, the Rajah married her, and made her his\nRanee,[29] and she and her daughter came to live in the palace.\n\n [29] Queen.\n\nThe new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get them,\nif possible, out of the way, in order that her daughter might have all\ntheir riches and live in the palace as Princess in their place; and\ninstead of being grateful to them for their kindness to her, she did\nall she could to make them miserable. She gave them nothing but bread\nto eat, and very little of that, and very little water to drink; so\nthese seven poor little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have\neverything comfortable about them, and good food and good clothes all\ntheir lives long, were very miserable and unhappy; and they used to go\nout every day and sit by their dead mother's tomb and cry; and used to\nsay,\n\n\"Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we\nare, and how we are starved by our cruel step-mother?\"\n\nOne day, whilst they were sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a\nbeautiful pomelo tree[30] grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh\nripe pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some\nof the fruit; and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the\nnasty dinner their step-mother provided for them, they used to go out\nto their mother's grave and eat the pomeloes which grew there on the\nbeautiful tree.\n\n [30] _Citrus decumana_--the Shaddock of the West Indies.\n\nThen the Ranee said to her daughter, \"I cannot tell how it is: every\nday those seven girls say they don't want any dinner, and won't eat\nany; and yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than\nyou do. I cannot tell how it is;\" and she bade her watch the seven\nPrincesses and see if any one gave them anything to eat.\n\nSo next day, when the Princesses went to their mother's grave, and\nwere eating the beautiful pomeloes, the Purdan's daughter followed\nthem and saw them gathering the fruit.\n\nThen Balna said to her sisters, \"Do you see that girl watching us? Let\nus drive her away or hide the pomeloes, else she will go and tell her\nmother all about it, and that will be very bad for us.\"\n\nBut the other sisters said, \"Oh no, do not be unkind, Balna. The girl\nwould never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us rather invite\nher to come and have some of the fruit;\" and calling her to them, they\ngave her one of the pomeloes.\n\nNo sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Purdan's daughter went\nhome and said to her mother, \"I do not wonder the seven Princesses\nwill not eat the nasty dinner you prepare for them, for by their\nmother's grave there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go there\nevery day and eat the pomeloes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I\nhave ever tasted.\"\n\nThe cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she\nstayed in her room, and told the Rajah that she had a very bad\nheadache. The Rajah at hearing this was deeply grieved, and said to\nhis wife, \"What can I do for you?\" She answered, \"There is only one\nthing that will make my headache well. By your dead wife's tomb there\ngrows a fine pomelo tree; you must bring that here, and boil it, root\nand branch, and put a little of the water in which it has been boiled\non my forehead, and that will cure my headache.\" So the Rajah sent his\nservants, and had the beautiful pomelo tree pulled up by the roots,\nand did as the Ranee desired; and when some of the water in which it\nhad been boiled was put on her forehead, she said her headache was\ngone and she felt quite well.\n\nNext day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of\ntheir mother, the pomelo tree had disappeared. Then they all began to\ncry very bitterly.\n\nNow there was by the Ranee's tomb a small tank,[31] and as they were\ncrying they saw that the tank was filled with a rich cream-like\nsubstance, which quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing\nthis all the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake,\nand liked it; and next day the same thing happened, and so it went on\nfor many days. Every morning the Princesses went to their mother's\ngrave, and found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like\ncake. Then the cruel step-mother said to her daughter: \"I cannot tell\nhow it is: I have had the pomelo tree which used to grow by the\nRanee's grave destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner nor\nlook more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot\ntell how it is!\"\n\n [31] Reservoir for water.\n\nAnd her daughter said, \"I will watch.\"\n\nNext day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should\ncome by but their step-mother's daughter? Balna saw her first, and\nsaid, \"See, sisters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the\nedge of the tank, and not allow her to see it; for if we give her some\nof our cake, she will go and tell her mother, and that will be very\nunfortunate for us.\"\n\nThe other sisters, however, thought Balna unnecessarily suspicious,\nand instead of following her advice, they gave the Purdan's daughter\nsome of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all about it.\n\nThe Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly\nangry, and sent her servants to pull down the dead Ranee's tomb and\nfill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she\nnext day pretended to be very, very ill--in fact, at the point of\ndeath; and when the Rajah was much grieved, and asked her whether it\nwas in his power to procure her any remedy, she said to him: \"Only one\nthing can save my life, but I know you will not do it.\" He replied,\n\"Yes, whatever it is, I will do it.\" She then said, \"To save my life,\nyou must kill the seven daughters of your first wife, and put some of\ntheir blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their\ndeath will be my life.\" At these words the Rajah was very sorrowful;\nbut because he feared to break his word, he went out with a heavy\nheart to find his daughters.\n\nHe found them crying by the ruins of their mother's grave.\n\nThen, feeling he could not kill them, the Rajah spoke kindly to them,\nand told them to come out into the jungle with him; and there he made\na fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the\nafternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep,\nand when he saw they were fast asleep, the Rajah, their father, stole\naway and left them (for he feared his wife), saying to himself: \"It is\nbetter my poor daughters should die here than be killed by their\nstep-mother.\"\n\nHe then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of the blood on the\nforehead and hands of the Ranee, and she thought then that he had\nreally killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well.\n\nMeantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves\nall alone in the thick jungle they were much frightened, and began to\ncall out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their father hear;\nbut he was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear\nthem, even had their voices been as loud as thunder.\n\nIt so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a\nneighboring Rajah chanced to be hunting in that same jungle, and as\nthey were returning home after the day's sport was over, the youngest\nPrince said to his brothers: \"Stop, I think I hear some one crying and\ncalling out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go in the direction of\nthe sound, and try and find out what it is.\"\n\nSo the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the\nplace where the seven Princesses sat crying and wringing their hands.\nAt the sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and\nstill more so on learning their story; and they settled that each\nshould take one of these poor forlorn ladies home with him and marry\nher.\n\nSo the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him,\nand married her.\n\nAnd the second took the second;\n\nAnd the third took the third;\n\nAnd the fourth took the fourth;\n\nAnd the fifth took the fifth;\n\nAnd the sixth took the sixth;\n\nAnd the seventh, and handsomest of all, took the beautiful Balna.\n\nAnd when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing\nthroughout the kingdom at the marriage of the seven young Princes to\nseven such beautiful Princesses.\n\nAbout a year after this Balna had a little son, and his uncles and\naunts were all so fond of the boy that it was as if he had seven\nfathers and seven mothers. None of the other Princes or Princesses had\nany children, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was\nacknowledged their heir by all the rest.\n\nThey had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the\nseventh Prince (Balna's husband) said he would go out hunting, and\naway he went; and they waited long for him, but he never came back.\n\nThen his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of\nhim; and they went away, but they also did not return.\n\nAnd the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they felt sure their\nkind husbands must have been killed.\n\nOne day, not long after this had happened, as Balna was rocking her\nbaby's cradle, and whilst her sisters were working in the room below,\nthere came to the palace door a man in a long black dress, who said\nthat he was a Fakeer,[32] and came to beg. The servants said to him,\n\"You cannot go into the palace--the Rajah's sons have all gone away;\nwe think they must be dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by\nyour begging.\" But he said, \"I am a holy man; you must let me in.\"\nThen the stupid servants let him walk through the palace, but they did\nnot know that this man was no Fakeer, but a wicked Magician named\nPunchkin.\n\n [32] Holy beggar.\n\nPunchkin Fakeer wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful\nthings there, till at last he reached the room where Balna sat singing\nbeside her little boy's cradle. The Magician thought her more\nbeautiful than all the other beautiful things he had seen, insomuch\nthat he asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said,\n\"My husband, I fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young;\nI will stay here and teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is\ngrown up he shall go out into the world, and try and learn tidings of\nhis father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him or marry you.\"\nAt these words the Magician was very angry, and turned her into a\nlittle black dog, and led her away, saying, \"Since you will not come\nwith me of your own free will, I will make you.\" So the poor Princess\nwas dragged away, without any power of effecting an escape, or of\nletting her sisters know what had become of her. As Punchkin passed\nthrough the palace gate the servants said to him, \"Where did you get\nthat pretty little dog?\" And he answered, \"One of the Princesses gave\nit to me as a present.\" At hearing which they let him go without\nfurther questioning.\n\nSoon after this the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their\nnephew, begin to cry, and when they went up stairs they were much\nsurprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. Then\nthey questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakeer and\nthe little black dog, they guessed what had happened, and sent in\nevery direction seeking them, but neither the Fakeer nor the dog were\nto be found. What could six poor women do? They had to give up all\nhopes of ever seeing their kind husbands, and their sister and her\nhusband again, and they devoted themselves thenceforward to teaching\nand taking care of their little nephew.\n\nThus time went on, till Balna's son was fourteen years old. Then one\nday his aunts told him the history of the family; and no sooner did he\nhear it than he was seized with a great desire to go in search of his\nfather and mother and uncles, and bring them home again if he could\nfind them alive. His aunts, on learning his determination, were much\nalarmed and tried to dissuade him, saying, \"We have lost our husbands,\nand our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole hope; if you\ngo away, what shall we do?\" But he replied, \"I pray you not to be\ndiscouraged; I will return soon, and, if it is possible, bring my\nfather and mother and uncles with me.\" So he sat out on his travels,\nbut for some months he could learn nothing to help him in his search.\n\nAt last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary miles, and\nbecome almost hopeless of ever being able to hear anything further of\nhis parents, he one day came to a country which seemed full of stones\nand rocks and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high\ntower; hard by which was a Malee's[33] little house.\n\n [33] Gardener's.\n\nAs he was looking about, the Malee's wife saw him, and ran out of the\nhouse and said, \"My dear boy, who are you that dare venture to this\ndangerous place?\" And he answered, \"I am a Rajah's son, and I come in\nsearch of my father and my uncles, and my mother whom a wicked\nenchanter bewitched.\" Then the Malee's wife said, \"This country and\nthis palace belong to a great Enchanter; he is all-powerful, and if\nany one displeases him, he can turn them into stones and trees. All\nthe rocks and trees you see here were living people once, and the\nMagician turned them to what they now are. Some time ago a Rajah's son\ncame here, and shortly afterward came his six brothers, and they were\nall turned into stones and trees; and these are not the only\nunfortunate ones, for up in that tower lives a beautiful Princess,\nwhom the Magician has kept prisoner there for twelve years, because\nshe hates him and will not marry him.\"\n\nThen the little Prince thought, \"These must be my parents and my\nuncles. I have found what I seek at last.\" So he told his story to the\nMalee's wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place a\nwhile, and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she\nmentioned; and she promised to befriend him, and advised his\ndisguising himself, lest the Magician should see him, and turn him\nlikewise into stone. To this the Prince agreed. So the Malee's wife\ndressed him up in a saree,[34] and pretended that he was her daughter.\n\n [34] A woman's dress.\n\nOne day, not long after this, as the Magician was walking in his\ngarden, he saw the little girl (as he thought) playing about, and\nasked her who she was. She told him she was the Malee's daughter, and\nthe Magician said, \"You are a pretty little girl, and to-morrow you\nshall take a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who\nlives in the tower.\"\n\nThe young Prince was much delighted at hearing this, and after some\nconsultation with the Malee's wife, he settled that it would be more\nsafe for him to retain his disguise, and trust to the chance of a\nfavorable opportunity for establishing some communication with his\nmother, if it were indeed she.\n\nNow it happened that at Balna's marriage her husband had given her a\nsmall gold ring, on which her name was engraved, and she put it on her\nlittle son's finger when he was a baby, and afterward, when he was\nolder, his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still\nable to wear it. The Malee's wife advised him to fasten the well-known\ntreasure to one of the bouquets he presented to his mother, and trust\nto her recognizing it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as\nsuch a strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear of her\never establishing communication with her friends) that though the\nsupposed Malee's daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day,\nthe Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time.\nAt last one day, however, opportunity favored him, and when no one was\nlooking the boy tied the ring to a nosegay and threw it at Balna's\nfeet. The ring fell with a clang on the floor, and Balna, looking to\nsee what made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the\nflowers. On recognizing it, she at once believed the story her son\ntold her of his long search, and begged him to advise her as to what\nshe had better do; at the same time entreating him on no account to\nendanger his life by trying to rescue her. She told him that for\ntwelve long years the Magician had kept her shut up in the tower\nbecause she refused to marry him, and she was so closely guarded that\nshe saw no hope of release.\n\nNow Balna's son was a bright, clever boy; so he said, \"Do not fear,\ndear mother; the first thing to do is to discover how far the\nMagician's power extends, in order that we may be able to liberate my\nfather and uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of rocks and\ntrees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve long years; do you\nnow rather speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of again\nseeing the husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing\nto marry him. Then endeavor to find out what his power consists in,\nand whether he is immortal or can be put to death.\"\n\nBalna determined to take her son's advice; and the next day sent for\nPunchkin and spoke to him as had been suggested.\n\nThe Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to allow the wedding to\ntake place as soon as possible.\n\nBut she told him that before she married him he must allow her a\nlittle more time, in which she might make his acquaintance, and, that,\nafter being enemies so long, their friendship could but strengthen by\ndegrees. \"And do tell me,\" she said, \"are you quite immortal? Can\ndeath never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel\nhuman suffering?\"\n\n\"Why do you ask?\" said he.\n\n\"Because,\" she replied, \"if I am to be your wife, I would fain know\nall about you, in order, if any calamity threatens you, to overcome,\nor, if possible, to avert it.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" he said, \"that I am not as others. Far, far away,\nhundreds of thousands of miles from this, there lies a desolate\ncountry covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a\ncircle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six\nchattees full of water, piled one above another; below the sixth\nchattee is a small cage which contains a little green parrot: on the\nlife of the parrot depends my life, and if the parrot is killed I must\ndie. It is, however,\" he added, \"impossible that the parrot should\nsustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility of the\ncountry, and because, by my appointment, many thousand evil genii\nsurround the palm trees, and kill all who approach the place.\"\n\nBalna told her son what Punchkin had said, but, at the same time,\nimplored him to give up all idea of getting the parrot.\n\nThe prince, however, replied, \"Mother, unless I can get hold of that\nparrot, you and my father and uncles cannot be liberated: be not\nafraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in\ngood humor--still putting off your marriage with him on various\npretexts; and before he finds out the cause of delay I will return.\"\nSo saying, he went away.\n\nMany, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick\njungle, and being very tired, sat down under a tree and fell asleep.\nHe was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a\nlarge serpent which was making its way to an eagle's nest built in the\ntree under which he lay, and in the nest were two young eagles. The\nPrince, seeing the danger of the young birds, drew his sword and\nkilled the serpent; at the same moment a rushing sound was heard in\nthe air, and the two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for\ntheir young ones, returned. They quickly saw the dead serpent and the\nyoung Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him,\n\"Dear boy, for many years all our young have been devoured by that\ncruel serpent: you have now saved the lives of our children; whenever\nyou are in need, therefore, send to us and we will help you; and as\nfor these little eagles, take them, and let them be your servants.\"\n\nAt this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their\nwings, on which he mounted; and they carried him far, far away over\nthe thick jungles, until he came to the place where grew the circle of\npalm trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full of\nwater. It was the middle of the day. All round the trees were the\ngenii fast asleep: nevertheless, there were such countless thousands\nof them that it would have been quite impossible for any one to walk\nthrough their ranks to the place. Down swooped the strong-winged\neaglets--down jumped the prince: in an instant he had overthrown the\nsix chattees full of water, and seized the little green parrot, which\nhe rolled up in his cloak; while, as he mounted again into the air,\nall the genii below awoke, and, finding their treasure gone, set up a\nwild and melancholy howl.\n\nAway, away flew the little eagles till they came to their home in the\ngreat tree; then the Prince said to the old eagles, \"Take back your\nlittle ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I stand in\nneed of help, I will not fail to come to you.\" He then continued his\njourney on foot till he arrived once more at the Magician's palace,\nwhere he sat down at the door and began playing with the parrot. The\nMagician saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, \"My boy, where\ndid you get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray you.\" But the Prince\nanswered, \"Oh no, I cannot give away my parrot; it is a great pet of\nmine; I have had it many years.\" Then the Magician said, \"If it is an\nold favorite, I can understand your not caring to give it away; but\ncome, what will you sell it for?\" \"Sir,\" replied the Prince, \"I will\nnot sell my parrot.\"\n\nThen the Magician got frightened, and said, \"Anything, anything; name\nwhat price you will, and it shall be yours.\" \"Then,\" the Prince\nanswered, \"I will that you liberate the Rajah's seven sons who you\nturned into rocks and trees.\" \"It is done as you desire,\" said the\nMagician, \"only give me my parrot.\" (And with that, by a stroke of his\nwand, Balna's husband and his brothers resumed their natural shapes.)\n\"Now give me my parrot,\" repeated Punchkin. \"Not so fast, my master,\"\nrejoined the Prince; \"I must first beg that you will restore to life\nall whom you have thus imprisoned.\"\n\nThe Magician immediately waved his wand again; and whilst he cried in\nan imploring voice, \"Give me my parrot!\" the whole garden became\nsuddenly alive: where rock and stones and trees had been before, stood\nRajahs and Punts[35] and Sirdars,[36] and mighty men on prancing\nhorses, and jeweled pages and troops of armed attendants.\n\n [35] Principal ministers.\n\n [36] Nobles or chiefs.\n\n\"Give me my parrot!\" cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the\nparrot, and tore off one of his wings; and as he did so the Magician's\nright arm fell off.\n\nPunchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, \"Give me my parrot!\"\nThe Prince pulled off the parrot's second wing, and the Magician's\nleft arm tumbled off.\n\n\"Give me my parrot!\" cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince\npulled off the parrot's right leg--the Magician's right leg fell off:\nthe Prince pulled off the parrot's left leg--down fell the Magician's\nleft.\n\nNothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still\nhe rolled his eyes, and cried, \"Give me my parrot!\" \"Take your parrot,\nthen,\" cried the boy, and with that he wrung the bird's neck and threw\nit at the Magician; and as he did so, Punchkin's head twisted round,\nand with a fearful groan he died!\n\nThen they let Balna out of the tower; and she, her son and the seven\nPrinces went to their own country, and lived very happily ever\nafterward. And as to the rest of the world, every one went to his own\nhouse.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nII.\n\n_A FUNNY STORY._\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were a Rajah and Ranee who were much grieved\nbecause they had no children, and the little dog in the palace had\nalso no little puppies. At last the Rajah and Ranee had some children,\nand it also happened that the pet dog in the palace had some little\npuppies; but, unfortunately, the Ranee's two children were two little\npuppies! and the dog's two little puppies were two pretty little\ngirls! This vexed her majesty very much; and sometimes when the dog\nhad gone away to its dinner, the Ranee used to put the two little\npuppies (her children) into the kennel, and carry away the dog's two\nlittle girls to the palace. Then the poor dog grew very unhappy, and\nsaid, \"They never will leave my two little children alone. I must take\nthem away into the jungle, or their lives will be worried out.\" So one\nnight she took the little girls in her mouth and ran with them to the\njungle, and there made them a home in a pretty cave in the rock,\nbeside a clear stream; and every day she would go into the towns and\ncarry away some nice currie and rice to give her little daughters; and\nif she found any pretty clothes or jewels that she could bring away in\nher mouth, she used to take them also for the children.\n\nNow it happened some time after this, one day, when the dog had gone\nto fetch her daughters' dinner, two young Princes (a Rajah and his\nbrother) came to hunt in the jungle, and they hunted all day and found\nnothing. It had been very hot, and they were thirsty; so they went to\na tree which grew on a little piece of high ground, and sent their\nattendants to search all round for water; but no one could find any.\nAt last one of the hunting dogs came to the foot of the tree quite\nmuddy, and the Rajah said, \"Look, the dog is muddy: he must have found\nwater: follow him, and see where he goes.\" The attendants followed the\ndog, and saw him go to the stream at the mouth of the cave where the\ntwo children were; and the two children also saw them, and were very\nmuch frightened and ran inside the cave. Then the attendants returned\nto the two Princes, and said, \"We have found clear, sparkling water\nflowing past a cave, and, what is more, within the cave are two of the\nmost lovely young ladies that eye ever beheld, clothed in fine dresses\nand covered with jewels; but when they saw us they were frightened and\nran away.\" On hearing this the Princes bade their servants lead them\nto the place; and when they saw the two young girls, they were quite\ncharmed with them, and asked them to go to their kingdom and become\ntheir wives. The maidens were frightened; but at last the Rajah and\nhis brother persuaded them, and they went, and the Rajah married the\neldest sister, and his brother married the youngest.\n\nWhen the dog returned, she was grieved to find her children gone, and\nfor twelve long years the poor thing ran many, many miles to find\nthem, but in vain. At last one day she came to the place where the\ntwo Princesses lived. Now it chanced that the eldest, the wife of the\nRajah, was looking out of the window, and seeing the dog run down the\nstreet, she said, \"That must be my dear long-lost mother.\" So she ran\ninto the street as fast as possible, and took the tired dog in her\narms, and brought her into her own room, and made her a nice\ncomfortable bed on the floor, and bathed her feet, and was very kind\nto her. Then the dog said to her, \"My daughter, you are good and kind,\nand it is a great joy to me to see you again; but I must not stay; I\nwill first go and see your younger sister, and then return.\" The Ranee\nanswered, \"Do not do so, dear mother; rest here to-day; to-morrow I\nwill send and let my sister know, and she, too, will come and see\nyou.\" But the poor, silly dog would not stay, but ran to the house of\nher second daughter. Now the second daughter was looking out of the\nwindow when the unfortunate creature came to the door, and seeing the\ndog she said to herself, \"That must be my mother. What will my husband\nthink if he learns that this wretched, ugly, miserable-looking dog is\nmy mother?\" So she ordered her servants to go and throw stones at it,\nand drive it away, and they did so; and one large stone hit the dog's\nhead, and she ran back, very much hurt, to her eldest daughter's\nhouse. The Ranee saw her coming, and ran out into the street and\nbrought her in in her arms, and did all she could to make her well,\nsaying, \"Ah, mother, mother! why did you ever leave my house?\" But all\nher care was in vain: the poor dog died. Then the Ranee thought her\nhusband might be vexed if he found a dead dog (an unclean animal) in\nthe palace; so she put the body in a small room into which the Rajah\nhardly ever went, intending to have it reverently buried; and over it\nshe placed a basket turned topsy-turvy.\n\nIt so happened, however, that when the Rajah came to visit his wife,\nas chance would have it, he went through this very room: and tripping\nover the upturned basket, called for a light to see what it was. Then,\nlo and behold! there lay the statue of a dog, life size, composed\nentirely of diamonds, emeralds, and other precious stones, set in\ngold! So he called out to his wife, and said, \"Where did you get this\nbeautiful dog?\" And when the Ranee saw the golden dog, she was very\nmuch frightened, and, I'm sorry to say, instead of telling her husband\nthe truth, she told a story, and said, \"Oh, it is only a present my\nparents sent me.\"\n\nNow see what trouble she got into for not telling the truth.\n\n\"_Only!_\" said the Rajah; \"why this is valuable enough to buy the\nwhole of my kingdom. Your parents must be very rich people to be able\nto send you such presents as this. How is it you never told me of\nthem? Where do they live?\" (Now she had to tell another story to cover\nthe first.) She said, \"In the jungle.\" He replied, \"I will go and see\nthem; you must take me and show where they live.\" Then the Ranee\nthought, \"What will the Rajah say when he finds I have been telling\nhim such stories? He will order my head to be cut off.\" So she said,\n\"You must first give me a palanquin, and I will go into the jungle and\ntell them you are coming;\" but really she determined to kill herself,\nand so get out of her difficulties. Away she went; and when she had\ngone some distance in her palanquin, she saw a large white ants'\nnest, over which hung a cobra, with its mouth wide open; then the\nRanee thought, \"I will go to that cobra and put my finger in his\nmouth, that he may bite me, and so I shall die.\" So she ordered the\npalkee-bearers to wait, and said she would be back in a while, and got\nout, and ran to the ants' nest, and put her finger in the cobra's\nmouth. Now a large thorn had run, a short time before, into the\ncobra's throat, and hurt him very much; and the Ranee, by putting her\nfinger into his mouth, pushed out this thorn; then the cobra, feeling\nmuch better, turned to her, and said, \"My dear daughter, you have done\nme a great kindness; what return can I make you?\" The Ranee told him\nall her story, and begged him to bite her, that she might die. But the\ncobra said, \"You did certainly very wrong to tell the Rajah that\nstory; nevertheless, you have been very kind to me. I will help you in\nyour difficulty. Send your husband here. I will provide you with a\nfather and mother of whom you need not be ashamed.\" So the Ranee\nreturned joyfully to the palace, and invited her husband to come and\nsee her parents.\n\nWhen they reached the spot near where the cobra was, what a wonderful\nsight awaited them! There, in the place which had before been thick\njungle, stood a splendid palace, twenty-four miles long and\ntwenty-four miles broad, with gardens and trees and fountains all\nround; and the light shining from it was to be seen a hundred miles\noff. The walls were made of gold and precious stones, and the carpets\ncloth of gold. Hundreds of servants, in rich dresses, stood waiting in\nthe long, lofty rooms; and in the last room of all, upon golden\nthrones, sat a magnificent old Rajah and Ranee, who introduced\nthemselves to the young Rajah as his papa and mamma-in-law. The Rajah\nand Ranee stayed at the palace six months, and were entertained the\nwhole of that time with feasting and music; and they left for their\nown home loaded with presents. Before they started, however, the Ranee\nwent to her friend, the cobra, and said, \"You have conjured up all\nthese beautiful things to get me out of my difficulties, but my\nhusband, the Rajah, has enjoyed his visit so much that he will\ncertainly want to come here again. Then, if he returns and finds\nnothing at all, he will be very angry with me.\" The friendly cobra\nanswered, \"Do not fear. When you have gone twenty-four miles on your\njourney, look back, and see what you will see.\" So they started; and\non looking back at the end of twenty-four miles, saw the whole of the\nsplendid palace in flames, the fire reaching up to heaven. The Rajah\nreturned to see if he could help anybody to escape, or invite them in\ntheir distress to his court; but he found that all was burnt down--not\na stone nor a living creature remained!\n\nThen he grieved much over the sad fate of his parents-in-law.\n\nWhen the party returned home, the Rajah's brother said to him, \"Where\ndid you get these magnificent presents?\" He replied, \"They are gifts\nfrom my father and mother-in-law.\" At this news the Rajah's brother\nwent home to his wife very discontented, and asked her why she had\nnever told him of her parents, and taken him to see them, whereby he\nmight have received rich gifts as well as his brother. His wife then\nwent to her sister, and asked how she had managed to get all the\nthings. But the Ranee said, \"Go away, you wicked woman. I will not\nspeak to you. You killed the poor dog, our mother.\"\n\nBut afterward she told her all about it.\n\nThe sister then said, \"I shall go and see the cobra, and get presents\ntoo.\" The Ranee then answered,--\"You can go if you like.\"\n\nSo the sister ordered her palanquin, and told her husband she was\ngoing to see her parents, and prepare them for a visit from him. When\nshe reached the ants' nest, she saw the cobra there, and she went and\nput her finger in his mouth, and the cobra bit her, and she died.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nIII.\n\n_BRAVE SEVENTEE BAI._\n\n\nSiu Rajah,[37] who reigned long years ago in the country of Agrabrum,\nhad an only son, to whom he was passionately attached. The Prince,\nwhose name was Logedas, was young and handsome, and had married the\nbeautiful Princess, Parbuttee Bai.\n\n [37] Or Singh Rajah, the Lion King.\n\nNow it came to pass that Siu Rajah's Wuzeer[38] had a daughter called\nSeventee Bai (the Daisy Lady), who was as fair as the morning, and\nbeloved by all for her gentleness and goodness; and when Logedas Rajah\nsaw her, he fell in love with her, and determined to marry her. But\nwhen Siu Rajah heard of this he was very angry, and sent for his son,\nand said: \"Of all that is rich and costly in my kingdom I have\nwithheld nothing from you, and in Parbuttee Bai you have a wife as\nfair as heart could wish; nevertheless, if you are desirous of having\na second wife, I freely give you leave to do so; there are daughters\nof many neighboring kings who would be proud to become your Queen, but\nit is beneath your dignity to marry a Wuzeer's daughter; and, if you\ndo, my love for you shall not prevent my expelling you from the\nkingdom.\" Logedas did not heed his father's threat, and he married\nSeventee Bai; which the Rajah learning, ordered him immediately to\nquit the country; but yet, because he loved him much, he gave Logedas\nmany elephants, camels, horses, palanquins and attendants, that he\nmight not need help on the journey, and that his rank might be\napparent to all.\n\n [38] Or Vizier.\n\nSo Logedas Rajah and his two young wives set forth on their travels.\nBefore, however, they had gone very far, the Prince dismissed the\nwhole of his retinue, except the elephant on which he himself rode,\nand the palanquin, carried by two men, in which his wives traveled.\nThus, almost alone, he started through the jungle in search of a new\nhome; but, being wholly ignorant of that part of the country, before\nthey had gone very far they lost their way. The poor Princesses were\nreduced to a state of great misery; day after day they wandered on,\nliving on roots or wild berries and the leaves of trees pounded down;\nand by night they were terrified by the cries of wild beasts in search\nof prey. Logedas Rajah became more melancholy and desponding every\nday; until, one night, maddened by the thought of his wives' sad\ncondition, and unable longer to bear the sight of their distress, he\ngot up, and casting aside his royal robes, twisted a coarse\nhandkerchief about his head, after the manner of a fakeer's (holy\nbeggar's) turban, and throwing a woolen cloak around him, ran away in\ndisguise into the jungle.\n\nA little while after he had gone, the Wuzeer's daughter awoke and\nfound Parbuttee Bai crying bitterly. \"Sister dear,\" said she, \"what is\nthe matter?\" \"Ah, sister,\" answered Parbuttee Bai, \"I am crying\nbecause in my dreams I thought our husband had dressed himself like a\nfakeer and run away into the jungle; and I awoke, and found it was all\ntrue: he has gone, and left us here alone. It would have been better\nwe had died than that such a misfortune should have befallen us.\" \"Do\nnot cry,\" said Seventee Bai: \"if we cry we are lost, for the\npalkee-bearers[39] will think we are only two weak women, and will run\naway, and leave us in the jungle, out of which we can never get by\nourselves. Keep a cheerful mind, and all will be well; who knows but\nwe may yet find our husband? Meanwhile, I will dress myself in his\nclothes, and take the name of Seventee Rajah, and you shall be my\nwife; and the palkee-bearers will think it is only I that have been\nlost; and it will not seem very wonderful to them that in such a place\nas this a wild beast should have devoured me.\"\n\n [39] _I.e._, palanquin-bearers.\n\nThen Parbuttee Bai smiled and said, \"Sister, you speak well; you have\na brave heart. I will be your little wife.\"\n\nSo Seventee Bai dressed herself in her husband's clothes, and next day\nshe mounted the elephant as he had done, and ordered the bearers to\ntake up the palkee in which Parbuttee Bai was, and again attempt to\nfind their way out of the jungle. The palkee-bearers wondered much to\nthemselves what had become of Seventee Bai, and they said to one\nanother, \"How selfish and how fickle are the rich! See now our young\nRajah, who married the Wuzeer's daughter and brought all this trouble\non himself thereby (and in truth 'tis said she was a beautiful lady),\nhe seemed to love her as his own soul; but now that she has been\ndevoured by some cruel animal in this wild jungle, he appears scarcely\nto mourn her death.\"\n\nAfter journeying for some days under the wise direction of the\nWuzeer's daughter, the party found themselves getting out of the\njungle, and at last they came to an open plain, in the middle of which\nwas a large city. When the citizens saw the elephant coming they ran\nout to see who was on it, and returning, told their Rajah that a very\nhandsome Rajah, richly dressed, was riding toward the city, and that\nhe brought with him his wife--a most lovely Princess. Whereupon the\nRajah of that country sent to Seventee Bai, and asked her who she was,\nand why she had come? Seventee Bai replied, \"My name is Seventee\nRajah. My father was angry with me, and drove me from his kingdom; and\nI and my wife have been wandering for many days in the jungle, where\nwe lost our way.\"\n\nThe Rajah and all his court thought they had never seen so brave and\nroyal-looking a Prince; and the Rajah said that if Seventee Rajah\nwould take service under him, he would give him as much money as he\nliked. To whom the Wuzeer's daughter replied: \"I am not accustomed to\ntake service under anybody; but you are good to us in receiving us\ncourteously and offering us your protection; therefore, give me\nwhatever post you please, and I will be your faithful servant.\" So the\nRajah gave Seventee Bai a salary of L24,000 a-year and a beautiful\nhouse, and treated her with the greatest confidence, consulting her in\nall matters of importance, and entrusting her with many state affairs;\nand from her gentleness and kindness, none felt envious at her good\nfortune, but she was beloved and honored by all; and thus these two\nPrincesses lived for twelve years in that city. No one suspected that\nSeventee Bai was not the Rajah she pretended to be, and she most\nstrictly forbade Parbuttee Bai's making a great friend of anybody, or\nadmitting any one to her confidence; for, she said, \"Who knows, then,\nbut some day you may, unawares, reveal that I am only Seventee Bai;\nand, though I love you as my very sister, if that were told by you, I\nwould kill you with my own hands.\"\n\nNow the King's palace was on the side of the city nearest to the\njungle, and one night the Ranee was awakened by loud and piercing\nshrieks coming from that direction; so she woke her husband, and said,\n\"I am so frightened by that terrible noise that I cannot sleep. Send\nsome one to see what is the matter.\" And the Rajah called all his\nattendants, and said, \"Go down toward the jungle and see what that\nnoise is about.\" But they were all afraid, for the night was very\ndark, and the noise very dreadful, and they said to him: \"We are\nafraid to go. We dare not do so by ourselves. Send for this young\nRajah who is such a favorite of yours, and tell him to go. He is\nbrave. You pay him more than you do us all. What is the good of your\npaying him so much, unless he can be of use when he is wanted?\" So\nthey all went to Seventee Bai's house, and when she heard what was the\nmatter, she jumped up, and said she would go down to the jungle and\nsee what the noise was.\n\nThis noise had been made by a Rakshas,[40] who was standing under a\ngallows on which a thief had been hanged the day before. He had been\ntrying to reach the corpse with his cruel claws; but it was just too\nhigh for him, and he was howling with rage and disappointment. When,\nhowever, the Wuzeer's daughter reached the place, no Rakshas was to be\nseen; but in his stead a very old woman, in a wonderful glittering\nsaree, sitting wringing her withered hands under the gallows tree, and\nabove, the corpse, swaying about in the night wind. \"Old woman,\" said\nSeventee Bai, \"what is the matter?\" \"Alas!\" said the Rakshas (for it\nwas he), \"my son hangs above on that gallows. He is dead, he is dead!\nand I am too bent with age to be able to reach the rope and cut his\nbody down.\" \"Poor old woman!\" said Seventee Bai; \"get upon my\nshoulders, and you will then be tall enough to reach your son.\" So the\nRakshas mounted on Seventee Bai's shoulders, who held him steady by\nhis glittering saree. Now, as she stood there, Seventee Bai began to\nthink the old woman was a very long time cutting the rope round the\ndead man's neck; and just at that moment the moon shone out from\nbehind a cloud, and Seventee Bai, looking up, saw that instead of a\nfeeble old woman, she was supporting on her shoulders a Rakshas, who\nwas tearing down portions of the flesh and devouring it.\nHorror-stricken, she sprang back, and with a shrill scream the Rakshas\nfled away, leaving in her hands the shining saree.\n\n [40] Gigantic demoniacal ogres, who can at will assume any shape.\n Their chief terrestrial delight is said to be digging dead bodies\n out of their graves and devouring them.\n\nSeventee Bai did not choose to say anything about this adventure to\nthe Ranee, not wishing to alarm her; so she merely returned to the\npalace, and said that the noise was made by an old woman whom she had\nfound crying under the gallows. She then returned home, and gave the\nbright saree to Parbuttee Bai.\n\nOne fine day, some time after this, two of the Rajah's little\ndaughters thought they would go and see Parbuttee Bai; and as it\nhappened, Parbuttee Bai had on the Rakshas' saree, and was standing\nby the half-closed window shutters looking out, when the Princesses\narrived at her house. The little Princesses were quite dazzled by the\ngolden saree, and running home said to their mother, \"That young\nRajah's wife has the most beautiful saree we ever saw. It shines like\nthe sun, and dazzles one's eyes. We have no sarees half so beautiful,\nand although you are Ranee, you have none so rich as that. Why do you\nnot get one too?\"\n\nWhen the Ranee heard about Parbuttee Bai's saree she was very eager to\nhave one like it; and she said to the Rajah, \"Your servant's wife is\ndressed more richly than your Ranee. I hear Parbuttee Bai has a saree\nmore costly than any of mine. Now, therefore, I beg you to get me one\nlike hers; for I cannot rest until I have one equally costly.\"\n\nThen the Rajah sent for Seventee Bai, and said, \"Tell me where your\nwife got her beautiful golden saree; for the Ranee desires to have one\nlike it.\" Seventee Bai answered, \"Noble master, that saree came from a\nvery far country--even the country of the Rakshas. It is impossible to\nget one like it here; but if you give me leave I will go and search\nfor their country, and, if I succeed in finding it, bring you home\nsarees of the same kind.\" And the Rajah was very much pleased, and\nordered Seventee Bai to go. So she returned to her house and bade\ngood-bye to Parbuttee Bai, and warned her to be discreet and cautious;\nand then, mounting her horse, rode away in search of the Rakshas'\ncountry.\n\nSeventee Bai traveled for many days through the jungle, going one\nhundred miles every day, and staying to rest every now and then at\nlittle villages on her road. At last one day, after having gone\nseveral hundred miles, she came to a fine city situated on the banks\nof a beautiful river, and on the city walls a proclamation was painted\nin large letters. Seventee Bai inquired of the people what it meant,\nwho told her that it was to say the Rajah's daughter would marry any\nman who could tame a certain pony belonging to her father, which was\nvery vicious.\n\n\"Has no one been able to manage it?\" asked Seventee Bai. \"No one,\"\nthey said. \"Many have tried, but failed miserably. The pony was born\non the same day as the Princess. It is so fierce that no one can\napproach it; but when the Princess heard how wild it was, she vowed\nshe would marry no one who could not tame it. Every one who likes is\nfree to try.\" Then Seventee Bai said, \"Show me the pony to-morrow. I\nthink I shall be able to tame it.\" They answered, \"You can try if you\nlike, but it is very dangerous, and you are but a youth.\" She replied,\n\"God gives his strength to the weak. I do not fear.\" So she went to\nsleep, and early next morning they beat a drum all round the town to\nlet every one know that another man was going to try and tame the\nRajah's pony, and all the people flocked out of their houses to see\nthe sight. The pony was in a field near the river, and Seventee Bai\nran up to it, as it came running toward her intending to trample her\nto death, and seized it firmly by the mane, so that it could neither\nstrike her with its fore legs nor kick her. The pony tried to shake\nher off, but Seventee Bai clung firmly on, and finally jumped on its\nback; and when the pony found that it was mastered, it became quite\ngentle and tame. Then Seventee Bai, to show how completely she had\nconquered, put spurs to the pony to make it jump the river, and the\npony immediately sprang up in the air and right across the river\n(which was a jump of three miles), and this it did three times (for it\nwas strong and agile, and had never been ridden before); and when all\nthe people saw this they shouted for joy, and ran down to the river\nbank and brought Seventee Bai, riding in triumph on the pony, to see\nthe Rajah. And the Rajah said, \"Oh, best of men, and worthy of all\nhonor, you have won my daughter.\" So he took Seventee Bai to the\npalace and paid her great honor, and gave her jewels and rich clothes,\nand horses and camels innumerable. The Princess also came to greet the\nwinner of her hand. Then they said, \"To-morrow shall be the wedding\nday.\" But Seventee Bai replied, \"Great Rajah and beautiful Princess, I\nam going on an important errand of my own Rajah's; let me, I pray you,\nfirst accomplish the duty on which I am bound, and on my way home I\nwill come through this city and claim my bride.\" At this they were\nboth pleased, and the Rajah said, \"It is well spoken. Do not let us\nhinder your keeping faith with your own Rajah. Go your way. We shall\neagerly await your return, when you shall claim the Princess and all\nyour possessions, and we will have such a gay wedding as was not since\nthe world began.\" And they went out with her to the borders of their\nland, and showed her on her way.\n\nSo the Wuzeer's daughter traveled on in search of the Rakshas'\ncountry, until at last one day she came in sight of another fine large\ntown. Here she rested in the house for travelers for some days. Now\nthe Rajah of this country had a very beautiful daughter, who was his\nonly child, and for her he had built a splendid bath. It was like a\nlittle sea, and had high marble walls all around, with a hedge of\nspikes at the top of the walls, so high that at a distance it looked\nlike a great castle. The young Princess was very fond of it, and she\nvowed she would only marry a man who could jump across her bath on\nhorseback. This had happened some years before, but no one had been\nable to do it, which grieved the Rajah and Ranee very much; for they\nwished to see their daughter happily married. And they said to her,\n\"We shall both be dead before you get a husband. What folly is this,\nto expect that any one should be able to jump over those high marble\nwalls, with the spikes at the top!\" The Princess only answered, \"Then\nI will never marry. It matters not; I will never have a husband who\nhas not jumped those walls.\"\n\nSo the Rajah caused it to be proclaimed throughout the land that he\nwould give his daughter in marriage, and great riches, to whoever\ncould jump, on horseback, over the Princess' bath.\n\nAll this Seventee Bai learnt as soon as she arrived in the town, and\nshe said, \"To-morrow I will try and jump over the Princess' bath.\" The\ncountry people said to her, \"You speak foolishly: it is quite\nimpossible.\" She replied, \"Heaven, in which I trust, will help me.\" So\nnext day she rose up, and saddled her horse, and led him in front of\nthe palace, and there she sprang on his back, and going at full\ngallop, leapt over the marble walls, over the spikes high up in the\nair, and down on to the ground on the other side of the bath; and this\nshe did three times, which, when the the Rajah saw, he was filled with\njoy, and sent for Seventee Bai, and said, \"Tell me your name, brave\nPrince; for you are the only man in the world--you have won my\ndaughter.\" Then the Wuzeer's daughter replied, \"My name is Seventee\nRajah. I come from a far country on a mission from my Rajah to the\ncountry of the Rakshas; let me therefore, I pray you, first do my\nappointed work, and if I live to return, I will come through this\ncountry and claim my bride.\" To which the Rajah consented, for he did\nnot wish the Princess, his daughter, to undertake so long and tiresome\na journey. It was therefore agreed that the Princess should await\nSeventee Bai's return at her father's court, and that Seventee Bai\nherself should immediately proceed on her journey.\n\nFrom this place she went on for many, many days without adventure, and\ntraversed a dense jungle, for her brave heart carried her through all\ndifficulties. At last she arrived at another large city, beautifully\nsituated by a lake, with blue hills rising behind it, and sheltering\nit from the cutting winds; little gardens filled with pomegranates,\njasmine and other fragrant and lovely flowers reached down from the\ncity to the water's edge.\n\nSeventee Bai, tired with her long journey, rode up to one of the\nMalees' houses, where the hospitable inmates, seeing she was a\nstranger and weary, offered her food and shelter for the night, which\nshe thankfully accepted.\n\nAs they all sat round the fire cooking their evening meal, Seventee\nBai asked the Malee's wife about the place and the people, and what\nwas going on in the town. \"Much excitement,\" she replied, \"has of late\nbeen caused by our Rajah's dream, which no one can interpret.\" \"What\ndid he dream?\" asked Seventee Bai. \"Ever since he was ten years old,\"\nshe replied, \"he has dreamed of a fair tree growing in a large garden.\nThe stem of the tree is made of silver, the leaves are pure gold, and\nthe fruit is bunches of pearls. The Rajah has inquired of all his wise\nmen and seers where such a tree is to be found; but they all replied,\n'There is no such tree in the world;' wherefore he is dissatisfied and\nmelancholy. Moreover, the Princess, his daughter, hearing of her\nfather's dream, has determined to marry no man save the finder of this\nmarvelous tree.\" \"It is very odd,\" said Seventee Bai; and, their\nsupper being over, she dragged her mattress outside the little house\n(as a man would have done), and, placing it in a sheltered nook near\nthe lake, knelt down, as her custom was, to say her prayers before\ngoing to sleep.\n\nAs she knelt there, with her eyes fixed on the dark water, she saw, on\na sudden, a glorious shining light coming slowly toward her, and\ndiscovered, in a minute or two more, that a very large cobra was\ncrawling up the steps from the water's edge, having in his mouth an\nenormous diamond, the size and shape of an egg, that sparkled and\nshone like a little sun, or as if one of the stars had suddenly\ndropped out of heaven. The cobra laid the diamond down at the top of\nthe steps, and crawled away in search of food. Presently returning\nwhen the night was far spent, he picked up the diamond again, and slid\ndown the steps with it into the lake. Seventee Bai knew not what to\nmake of this, but she resolved to return to the same place next night\nand watch for the cobra.\n\nAgain she saw him bring the diamond in his mouth, and take it away\nwith him after his evening meal; and again, a third night, the same\nthing. Then Seventee Bai determined to kill the cobra, and if possible\nsecure the diamond. So early next morning she went into the bazaar,\nand ordered a blacksmith to make her a very strong iron trap, which\nshould catch hold of anything it was let down upon so firmly as to\nrequire the strength of twelve men to get out of it. The blacksmith\ndid as he was ordered, and made a very strong trap; the lower part of\nit was like knives, and when it caught hold of anything it required\nthe strength of twelve men to break through it and escape.\n\nSeventee Bai had this trap hung up by a rope to a tree close to the\nlake, and all around she scattered flowers and sweet scents, such as\ncobras love; and at nightfall she herself got into the tree just above\nthe trap, and waited for the cobra to come as he was wont.\n\nAbout twelve o'clock the cobra came up the steps from the lake in\nsearch of food. He had the diamond in his mouth, and, attracted by the\nsweet scents and flowers, instead of going into the jungle, he\nproceeded toward the tree in which Seventee Bai was.\n\nWhen Seventee Bai saw him, she untied the rope and let down the trap\nupon him; but for fear he might not be quite dead, she waited till\nmorning before going to get the diamond.\n\nAs soon as the sun was up, she went to look at her prey. There he lay\ncold and dead, with the diamond, which shone like a mountain of light,\nin his mouth. Seventee Bai took it, and, tired by her night of\nwatching, thought she would bathe in the lake before returning to the\nMalee's cottage. So she ran and knelt down by the brink, to dip her\nhands and face in the cool water; but no sooner did she touch its\nsurface with the diamond, than it rolled back in a wall on either\nhand, and she saw a pathway leading down below the lake, on each side\nof which were beautiful houses and gardens full of flowers, red, and\nwhite, and blue. Seventee Bai resolved to see whither this might lead,\nso she walked down the path until she came opposite a large door. She\nopened it, and found herself in a more lovely garden than she had ever\nseen on earth; tall trees laden with rich fruit grew in it, and on the\nboughs were bright birds singing melodiously, while the ground was\ncovered with flowers, among which flew many gaudy butterflies.\n\nIn the centre of the garden grew one tree more beautiful than all the\nrest: _the stem was of silver, the leaves were golden, and the fruit\nwas clusters of pearls_. Swinging amid the branches sat a young girl,\nmore fair than any earthly lady; she had a face like the angels which\nmen only see in dreams; her eyes were like two stars, her golden hair\nfell in ripples to her feet; she was singing to herself. When she saw\nthe stranger, she gave a little cry, and said, \"Ah, my lord, why do\nyou come here?\" Seventee Bai answered, \"May I not come to see you,\nbeautiful lady?\" Then the lady said, \"Oh, sir, you are welcome; but if\nmy father sees you here, he will kill you. I am the great Cobra's\ndaughter, and he made this garden for me to play in, and here I have\nplayed these many, many years all alone, for he lets me see no one,\nnot even of our own subjects. I never saw any one before you. Speak,\nbeautiful Prince--tell me how you came here, and who you are?\"\nSeventee Bai answered, \"I am Seventee Rajah: have no fear--the stern\nCobra is no more.\" Then the lady was joyful, when she heard that the\nCobra who had tyrannized over her was dead, and she said her name was\nHera Bai (the Diamond Lady), and that she was possessor of all the\ntreasures under the lake; and she said to Seventee Bai, \"Stay with me\nhere; you shall be king of all this country, and I will be your wife.\"\n\"That cannot be,\" answered Seventee Bai, \"for I have been sent on a\nmission by my Rajah, and I must continue my journey until I have\naccomplished it; but if you love me as I love you, come rather with me\nto my own land, and you shall be my wife.\" Hera Bai shook her head.\n\"Not so, dearest,\" she said, \"for if I go with you, all the people\nwill see how fair I am, and they will kill you, and sell me for a\nslave; and so I shall bring evil upon you, and not good. But take this\nflute, dear husband (and saying this, she gave Seventee Bai a little\ngolden flute); whenever you wish to see me, or are in need of my aid,\ngo into the jungle and play upon it, and before the sound ceases I\nwill be there; but do not play it in the towns, nor yet amid a crowd.\"\nThen Seventee Bai put the flute in the folds of her dress, and she\nbade farewell to Hera Bai and went away.\n\nWhen she came back to the Malee's cottage, the Malee's wife said to\nher, \"We became alarmed about you, sir; for two days we have seen\nnothing of you; and we thought you must have gone away. Where have you\nbeen so long?\" Seventee Bai answered, \"I had business of my own in the\nbazaar\" (for she did not choose to tell the Malee's wife that she had\nbeen under the lake); \"now go and inquire what time your Rajah's\nWuzeer can give a stranger audience, for I must see him before I leave\nthis city.\" So the Malee's wife went; whilst she was gone, Seventee\nBai went down again to the edge of the lake, and there reverently\nburnt the cobra's body, both for the sake of Hera Bai, and because the\ncobra is a sacred animal. Next day (the Malee's wife having brought a\nfavorable answer from the palace) Seventee Bai went to see the Wuzeer.\nNow the Wuzeer wondered much why she came to see him, and he said,\n\"Who are you, and what is your errand?\" Whereupon she answered, \"I am\nSeventee Rajah. I am going a long journey on my own Rajah's account,\nand happening to be passing through this city, I came to pay you a\nfriendly visit.\" Then the Wuzeer became quite cordial, and talked with\nSeventee Bai about the country and the city, and the Rajah and his\nwonderful dream. And Seventee Bai said, \"What do you suppose your\nRajah would give to any one who could show him the tree of which he\nhas so often dreamed?\" The Wuzeer replied, \"He would certainly give\nhim his daughter in marriage and the half of his kingdom.\" \"Very\nwell,\" said Seventee Bai, \"tell your master that, upon these\nconditions, if he likes to send for me, I will show him the tree; he\nmay look at it for one night, but he cannot have it for his own.\"\n\nThe Wuzeer took the message to the Rajah, and next day the Wuzeer, the\nSirdars, and all the great men of the court, went in state by the\nRajah's order to the Malee's hut, to say that he was willing to grant\nall Seventee Rajah's demands, and would like to see the tree that very\nnight. Seventee Bai thereupon promised the Wuzeer that if the Rajah\nwould come with his court, he should see the reality of his dream.\nThen she went into the jungle and played on her little flute, and Hera\nBai immediately appeared as she had seen her before, swinging in the\nsilver tree; and when she heard what Seventee Bai wanted, she bade her\nbring the Rajah, who should see it without fail.\n\nWhen the Rajah came, he and all his court were overcome with\nastonishment; for there, in the midst of the desolate jungle, was a\nbeautiful palace; fountains played in every court, the rooms were\nrichly decorated with thousands and thousands of shining jewels; a\nlight as clear as day filled all the place, soft music was played\naround by unseen hands, sweet odors filled the air, and in the midst\nof the palace garden there grew _a silver tree, with golden leaves and\nfruit of pearls_.\n\nThe next morning all had disappeared; but the Rajah, enchanted with\nwhat he had seen, remained true to his promise, and agreed to give\nSeventee Bai the half of his kingdom and his daughter in marriage;\nfor, said he to himself, \"A man who can convert the jungle into a\nparadise in one night must surely be rich enough and clever enough to\nbe my son-in-law.\" But Seventee Bai said, \"I am now employed on an\nerrand of my Rajah's; let me, I beg, first accomplish it, and on my\nhomeward journey I will remain a while in this town, and will marry\nthe Princess.\" So they gave him leave to go, and the Rajah and all the\ngreat men of his kingdom accompanied Seventee Bai to the borders of\ntheir land. Thence the Wuzeer's daughter went on journeying many days\nuntil she had left that country far behind; but as yet she had gained\nno clue as to the way to the Rakshas' land. In this difficulty she\nbethought her of Hera Bai, and played upon the little golden flute.\nHera Bai immediately appeared, saying, \"Husband, what can I do for\nyou?\" Seventee Bai answered, \"Kind Hera, I have now been wandering in\nthis jungle for many days, endeavoring in vain to discover the\nRakshas' country, whither my Rajah has ordered me to go. Can you help\nme to get there?\" She answered, \"You cannot go there by yourself. For\na six months' journey round their land there is placed a Rakshas'\nguard, and not a sparrow could find his way into the country without\ntheir knowledge and permission. No men are admitted there, and there\nare more Rakshas employed in keeping guard than there are trees on the\nface of the earth. They are invisible, but they would see you, and\ninstantly tear you to pieces. Be, however, guided by me, and I will\ncontrive a way by which you may gain what you seek. Take this ring\n(and so saying, she placed a glorious ring on Seventee Bai's finger);\nit was given me by my dearest friend, the Rajah of the Rakshas'\ndaughter, and will render you invisible. Look at that mountain, whose\nblue head you can just see against the sky; you must climb to the top\nof that, for it stands on the borders of the Rakshas' territory. When\nthere, turn the stone on the ring I have given you toward the palm of\nyour hand, and you will instantly fall through the earth into the\nspace below the mountain where the Rakshas' Rajah holds his court, and\nfind yourself in his daughter's presence. Tell her you are my husband;\nshe will love and help you for my sake.\" Hera Bai so saying\ndisappeared, and Seventee Bai continued her journey until she reached\nthe mountain top, where she turned the ring round as she had been\nbidden, and immediately found herself falling through the earth, down,\ndown, down, deeper and deeper, until at last she arrived in a\nbeautiful room, richly furnished, and hung round with cloth of gold.\nIn every direction, as far as the eye could reach, were thousands and\nthousands of Rakshas, and in the centre of the room was a gold and\nivory throne, on which sat the most beautiful Princess that it is\npossible to imagine. She was tall and of a commanding aspect; her\nblack hair was bound by long strings of pearl; her dress was of fine\nspun gold, and round her waist was clasped a zone of restless,\nthrobbing, light-giving diamonds; her neck and her arms were covered\nwith a profusion of costly jewels; but brighter than all shone her\nbright eyes, which looked full of gentle majesty. She could see\nSeventee Bai, although her attendants could not, because of the magic\nring; and as soon as she saw her she started and cried, \"Who are you?\nHow came you here?\" Seventee Bai answered, \"I am Seventee Rajah, the\nhusband of the Lady Hera, and I have come here by the power of the\nmagic ring you gave her.\" The Rakshas' Princess then said, \"You are\nwelcome: but you must know that your coming is attended with much\ndanger; for, did the guard placed around me by my father know of your\npresence, they would instantly put you to death, and I should be\npowerless to save you. Tell me why did you come?\" Seventee Bai\nanswered, \"I came to see you, beautiful lady; tell me your name, and\nhow it is you are here all alone.\" She replied, \"I am the Rakshas'\nRajah's only daughter, and my name is Tara Bai (the Star Lady), and\nbecause my father loves me very much he has built this palace for me,\nand placed this great guard of Rakshas all round for many thousand\nmiles, to prevent any one coming in or out without his permission.\n\n\"So great is the state they keep that I seldom see my father and\nmother; indeed, I have not seen them for several years. Nevertheless,\nI will go now in person to implore their protection for you; for\nthough I never saw king nor prince before, I love you very much.\"\n\nSo saying, she arose to go to her father's court, bidding Seventee Bai\nawait her return.\n\nWhen the Rajah and Ranee of the Rakshas heard that their daughter was\ncoming to see them, they were very much surprised, and said, \"What can\nbe the matter with our daughter? Can she be ill? or can our Tara Bai\nbe unhappy in the beautiful house we have given her?\" And they said to\nher, \"Daughter, why do you come? what is the matter?\" She answered,\n\"Oh, my father! I come to tell you I should like to be married. Cannot\nyou find some beautiful Prince to be my husband?\" Then the Rajah\nlaughed, and said, \"You are but a child still, my daughter;\nnevertheless, if you wish for a husband, certainly, if any Prince\ncomes here, and asks you in marriage, we will let you wed him.\" She\nsaid, \"If some brave and beautiful Prince were to come here, and get\nthrough the great guard you have placed around the palace, would you\nindeed protect him for my sake, and not allow them to tear him in\npieces?\" The Rajah answered, \"If such a one come, he shall be safe.\"\nThen Tara Bai was very joyful, and ran and fetched Seventee Bai, and\nsaid to her father and mother, \"See here is Seventee Rajah, the young\nPrince of whom I spoke.\" And when the Rajah and Ranee saw Seventee Bai\nthey were greatly astonished, and could not think how she had managed\nto reach their land, and they thought she must be very brave and wise\nto have done so. And because also Seventee Bai looked a very noble\nPrince, they were the more willing that she should marry Tara Bai,\nand said, \"Seventee Rajah, we are willing you should be our\nson-in-law, for you look good and true, and you must be brave, to have\ncome so long and dangerous a journey for your wife; now, therefore,\nyou shall be married; the whole land is open to you, and all that we\nhave is yours; only take good care of our dear daughter, and if ever\nshe or you are unhappy, return here and you shall find a home with\nus.\" So the wedding took place amidst great rejoicings. The wedding\nfestivities lasted twelve days, and to it came hundreds and hundreds\nof thousands of Rakshas from every country under heaven; from the\nnorth and the south and the east and the west, from the depths of the\nearth and the uttermost parts of the sea. Troop after troop they came\nflocking in, an ever-increasing crowd, from all parts of this wide\nworld, to be present at the marriage of their master's daughter.\n\nIt would be impossible to count all the rich and costly presents that\nthe Rakshas' Rajah and Ranee gave Tara Bai. There were jewels enough\nto fill the seas; diamonds and emeralds, rubies, sapphires and pearls;\ngold and silver, costly hangings, carved ebony and ivory, more than a\nman could count in a hundred years; for the Rajah gave his daughter a\nguard of 100,000,000,000,000 Rakshas, and each Rakshas carried a\nbundle of riches, and each bundle was as big as a house! and so they\ntook leave of the Rakshas' Rajah and Ranee, and left the Rakshas'\ncountry.\n\nWhen they got to the country of the Rajah who had dreamed about the\nsilver tree, with leaves of gold and fruit of pearl (because the\nnumber of their retinue was so great that if they had come into a\ncountry they would have devoured all that was in it like a swarm of\nlocusts), Seventee Bai and Tara Bai determined that Tara Bai should\nstay with the guard of Rakshas in the jungle, on the borders of the\nRajah's dominions, and that Seventee Bai should go to the city, as she\nhad promised, to marry the Rajah's daughter. And there they stayed a\nweek, and the Rajah's daughter was married with great pomp and\nceremony to Seventee Bai; and when they left the city the Rajah gave\nSeventee Bai and the bride, his daughter, horses and camels and\nelephants, and rich robes and jewels innumerable; and he and all his\ncourt accompanied them to the borders of the land.\n\nThence they went to the country where lived the Princess whose great\nmarble bath Seventee Bai had jumped over; and there Seventee Bai was\nmarried to her, amid great rejoicings, and the wedding was one of\nsurpassing splendor, and the wedding festivities lasted for three\nwhole days.\n\nAnd leaving that city, they traveled on until they reached the city\nwhere Seventee Bai had tamed the Rajah's wild pony, and there they\nspent two days in great honor and splendor, and Seventee Bai married\nthat Princess also; so with her five wives--that is to say, Hera Bai\nthe Rajah of the Cobras' daughter, Tara Bai the Rajah of the Rakshas'\ndaughter, and the three other Princesses--and a great tribe of\nattendants and elephants and camels and horses, she returned to the\ncity where she had left Parbuttee Bai.\n\nNow when news was brought to Seventee Bai's master (the friendly\nRajah), of the great cavalcade that was approaching his city, he\nbecame very much alarmed, taking Seventee Bai for some strange Rajah\nwho had come to make war upon him. When Seventee Bai heard how\nalarmed he was, she sent a messenger to him, on a swift horse, to say,\n\"Be not alarmed; it is only thy servant, Seventee Rajah, returning\nfrom the errand on which thou didst send him.\" Then the Rajah's heart\nwas light, and he ordered a royal salute to be fired, and went out\nwith all his court to meet Seventee Bai, and they all went together in\na state procession into the city. And Seventee Bai said to the Rajah,\n\"You sent your servant to the Rakshas' country to fetch a golden saree\nfor the Ranee. Behold, I have done as you wish.\" And so saying, she\ngave to the Rajah five Rakshas' bundles of rich hangings and garments\ncovered with jewels (that is to say, five housefuls of costly things;\nfor each Rakshas carried as much in the bundle on his shoulders as a\nhouse would hold); and to the Wuzeer she gave two bundles.\n\nAfter this, Seventee Bai discharged almost all her immense train of\nattendants (for fear they should create a famine in the land), sending\nthem to their own houses with many valuable presents; and she took the\nthree Princesses, her wives, to live with her and Parbuttee Bai; but\nHera Bai and Tara Bai, on account of their high rank and their\nsurpassing beauty, had a splendid palace of their own in the jungle,\nof which no one knew but Seventee Bai.\n\nNow when she again saw Seventee Bai, the Rajah's little daughter said\nto her father, \"Father, I do not think there is such a brave and\nbeautiful Prince in all the world as this Seventee Rajah. I would\nrather have him for my husband than any one else.\" And the Rajah said,\n\"Daughter, I am very willing you should marry him.\" So it was settled\nSeventee Bai should marry the little Princess; but she said to the\nRajah, \"I am willing to marry your daughter, but we must have a very\ngrand wedding; give me time, therefore, to send into all the countries\nround, and invite all their Rajahs to be present at the ceremony.\" And\nto this the Rajah agreed.\n\nNow, about this time, Seventee Bai one day found Parbuttee Bai crying,\nand said to her, \"Little sister, why are you unhappy?\" And Parbuttee\nBai answered, \"Oh sister, you have brought us out of all our\ndifficulties, and won us honor and great riches, but yet I do not feel\nmerry; for I cannot help thinking of our poor husband, who is now,\nmaybe, wandering about a wretched beggar, and I long with my whole\nheart to see him again.\" Then Seventee Bai said, \"Well, cheer up, do\nnot cry; mind those women do not find out I am not Seventee Rajah.\nKeep a good heart, and I will try and find your husband for you.\" So\nSeventee Bai went into the jungle palace to see Hera Bai, and said to\nher, \"I have a friend whom I have not seen since he became mad twelve\nyears ago, and ran away into the jungle disguised as a Fakeer. I\nshould like very much to find out if he is still alive. How can I\nlearn?\" Now Hera Bai was a very wise Princess, and she answered, \"Your\nbest plan will be to provide a great feast for the poor, and cause it\nto be proclaimed in all lands, far and near, that you are about to\ngive it as a thank-offering for all the blessings God has bestowed on\nyou. The poor will flock from all countries to come to it, and perhaps\namong the rest you may find your friend.\"\n\nSeventee Bai did as Hera Bai had advised, causing two long tables to\nbe spread in the jungle, whereat hundreds of poor from all parts of\nthe world were daily entertained; and every day, for six months,\nSeventee Bai and Parbuttee Bai walked down the long rows of people,\napparently to see how they were all getting on, but in reality to look\nfor Logedas Rajah; but they found him not.\n\nAt last one day, as Seventee Bai was going her accustomed round, she\nsaw a wretched wild-looking man, black as pitch, with tangled hair, a\nthin wrinkled face, and in his hand a wooden bowl, such as Fakeers\ncarry about to collect broken meat and scraps of bread in, and\ntouching Parbuttee Bai, she said to her, \"See, Parbuttee, there is\nyour husband.\" When Parbuttee Bai saw this pitiful sight (for it was,\nindeed, Logedas, but so changed and altered that even his wives hardly\nrecognized him), she began to cry. Then Seventee Bai said, \"Do not\ncry; go home quickly. I will take care of him.\" And when Parbuttee Bai\nwas gone, she called one of the guard and said to him, \"Catch hold of\nthat man and put him in prison.\" Then Logedas Rajah said, \"Why do you\nseize me? I have done no harm to any one.\" But Seventee Bai ordered\nthe guard not to heed his remonstrances, but to take him to prison\ninstantly, for she did not wish the people around to discover how\ninterested she was in him. So the guard took Logedas Rajah away to\nlock him up. Poor Logedas Rajah said to them, \"Why has this wicked\nRajah had me taken prisoner? I have harmed no one. I have not fought,\nnor robbed; but for twelve years I have been a wretched beggar, living\non the bread of charity.\" For he did not tell them he was a Rajah's\nson, for he knew they would only laugh at him. They replied. \"You must\nnot call our Rajah wicked; it is you that are wicked, and not he, and\ndoubtless he will have your head cut off.\"\n\nWhen they put him in prison he begged them again to say what was to be\ndone to him. \"Oh!\" said they, \"you will certainly be hanged to-morrow\nmorning, or perhaps, if you like it better, beheaded, in front of the\npalace.\"\n\nNow as soon as Seventee Bai got home, she sent for her head servants,\nand said to them, \"Go at once to the prison, and order the guard to\ngive you up the Fakeer I gave into their charge, and bring him here in\na palanquin, but see that he does not escape.\" Then Seventee Bai\nordered them to lock up Logedas in a distant part of the palace, and\ncommanded that he should be washed, and dressed in new clothes, and\ngiven food, and that a barber should be sent for, to cut his hair and\ntrim his beard. Then Logedas said to his keepers, \"See how good the\nRajah is to me! He will not surely hang me after this.\" \"Oh, never\nfear,\" they answered; \"when you are dressed up and made very smart, it\nwill be a much finer sight to see you hanged than before.\" Thus they\ntried to frighten the poor man. After this Seventee Bai sent for all\nthe greatest doctors in the kingdom, and said to them, \"If a Rajah\nwanders about for twelve years in the jungle, until all trace of his\nprincely beauty is lost, how long will it take you to restore him to\nhis original likeness?\" They answered, \"With care and attention it may\nbe done in six months.\" \"Very well,\" said Seventee Bai, \"there is a\nfriend of mine now in my palace of whom this is the case. Take him and\ntreat him well, and at the end of six months I shall expect to see him\nrestored to his original health and strength.\"\n\nSo Logedas was placed under the doctors' care; but all this time he\nhad no idea who Seventee Bai was, nor why he was thus treated. Every\nday Seventee Bai came to see him and talk to him. Then he said to his\nkeepers, \"See, good people, how kind this great Rajah is, coming to\nsee me every day; he can intend for me nothing but good.\" To which\nthey would answer, \"Don't you be in a hurry; none can fathom the\nhearts of kings. Most probably, for all this delay, he will in the end\nhave you taken and hanged.\" Thus they amused themselves by alarming\nhim.\n\nThen, some day, when Seventee Bai had been more than usually kind,\nLogedas Rajah would say again, \"I do not fear the Rajah's intentions\ntoward me. Did you not notice how very kind he was to-day!\" And to\nthis his keepers would reply--\n\n\"Doubtless it is amusing for him, but hardly, we should think, for\nyou. He will play with you probably for some time (as a cat does with\na mouse); but in three months is the Rajah's birthday; most likely he\nis keeping you to kill you then.\" And so the time wore on.\n\nSeventee Bai's birthday was fixed for the day also of her wedding with\nthe Rajah's daughter. For this great event immense preparations were\nmade all over the plain outside the city walls. Tents made of cloth of\ngold were pitched in a great square, twelve miles long and twelve\nmiles broad, for the accommodation of the neighboring Rajahs, and in\nthe centre was a larger tent than all the rest, covered with jewels\nand shining like a great golden temple, in which they were to\nassemble.\n\nThen Seventee Bai said to Parbuttee Bai, \"On my birthday I will\nrestore you to your husband.\" But Parbuttee Bai was vexed and said, \"I\ncannot bear the thought of him; it is such a terrible thing to think\nof our once handsome husband as none other than that miserable\nFakeer.\"\n\nSeventee Bai smiled. \"In truth,\" she said, \"I think you will find him\nagain altered, and for the better. You cannot think what a change rest\nand care have made in him; but he does not know who we are, and as you\nvalue my happiness, tell no one now that I am not the Rajah.\" \"Indeed\nI will not, dearest sister,\" answered Parbuttee Bai. \"I should in\ntruth be loath to vex you, after all you have done for me; for owing\nto you here have we lived happily for twelve years like sisters, and I\ndo not think as clever a woman as you was ever before born in this\nworld.\"\n\nAmong other guests invited to the wedding were Siu Rajah and his wife,\nand the Wuzeer, Seventee Bai's father, and her mother. Seventee Bai\narranged thrones for them all, made of gold and emeralds, and\ndiamonds, and rubies, and ivory. And she ordered that in the seat of\nhonor on her left-hand side should be placed the Wuzeer, her father,\nand next to him her mother, and next to them Siu Rajah and his wife,\nand after them all the other Rajahs and Ranees, according to their\nrank; and all the Rajahs and Ranees wondered much that the place of\nhonor should have been given to the stranger Wuzeer. Then Seventee Bai\ntook her most costly Rajah dress, and ordered that Logedas Rajah\nshould be clothed in it, and escorted to the tent; and she took off\nthe man's clothes which she had worn, and dressed herself in a saree.\nWhen she was dressed in it she looked a more lovely woman than she\nhad before looked a handsome man. And she went to the tent leading\nParbuttee Bai, while with her came Hera Bai and Tara Bai of more than\nmortal beauty, and the three other Princesses clothed in the most\ncostly robes. Then before all the Rajahs and Ranees, Seventee Bai\nknelt down at Logedas Rajah's feet, and said to him, \"I am your true\nwife. O husband, have you forgotten her whom you left in the jungle\nwith Parbuttee Bai twelve years ago? See here she also is; and behold\nthese rich jewels, these tents of gold, these hangings of priceless\nworth, these elephants, camels, horses, attendants and all this\nwealth. It is all yours, as I am yours; for I have collected all for\nyou.\"\n\nThen Logedas Rajah wept for joy, and Siu Rajah arose and kissed\nSeventee Bai, and said to her, \"My noble daughter, you have rescued my\nson from misery, and done more wisely and well than woman ever did\nbefore. May all honor and blessing attend you henceforth and for\never.\"\n\nAnd the assembled Rajahs and Ranees were surprised beyond measure,\nsaying, \"Did any one ever hear of a woman doing so much?\" But more\nthan any was the good Rajah astonished, whom Seventee Bai had served\nso well for twelve years, and whose daughter she was to have married\nthat day, when he learnt that she was a woman! It was then agreed by\nall that Logedas Rajah should on that day be newly married to his two\nwives, Parbuttee Bai and Seventee Bai; and should also marry the six\nother beautiful Princesses--the Princess Hera Bai, the Princess Tara\nBai, the Rajah's little daughter, and the three other Princesses; and\nthat he should return with his father to his own kingdom. And the\nweddings took place amid great splendor and rejoicings unheard of;\nand of all the fine things that were seen and done on that day it is\nimpossible to tell. And afterward Logedas Rajah and his eight wives,\nand his father and mother, and the Wuzeer and his wife, and all their\nattendants, returned to their own land, where they all lived very\nhappily ever after. And so may all who read this story live happily\ntoo.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nIV.\n\n_TRUTH'S TRIUMPH._\n\n\nSeveral hundred years ago there was a certain Rajah who had twelve\nwives, but no children, and though he caused many prayers to be said,\nand presents made in temples far and near, never a son nor a daughter\nhad he. Now this Rajah had a Wuzeer who was a very, very wise old man,\nand it came to pass that one day, when he was traveling in a distant\npart of his kingdom, accompanied by this Wuzeer and the rest of his\ncourt, he came upon a large garden, in walking round which he was\nparticularly struck by a little tree which grew there. It was a\nbringal[41] tree, not above two feet in height. It had no leaves, but\non it grew a hundred and one bringals. The Rajah stopped to count\nthem, and then turning to the Wuzeer in great astonishment, said, \"It\nis to me a most unaccountable thing, that this little tree should have\nno leaves, but a hundred and one bringals growing on it. You are a\nwise man--can you guess what this means?\" The Wuzeer replied, \"I can\ninterpret this marvel to you, but if I do, you will most likely not\nbelieve me; promise therefore that if I tell you, you will not cause\nme to be killed as having told (as you imagine) a lie.\" The Rajah\npromised, and the Wuzeer continued: \"The meaning of this little\nbringal tree, with the hundred and one bringals growing on it, is\nthis. Whoever marries the daughter of the Malee in charge of this\ngarden will have a hundred and one children--a hundred sons and one\ndaughter.\" The Rajah said, \"Where is the maiden to be seen?\" The\nWuzeer answered, \"When a number of great people like you and all your\ncourt come into a little village like this, the poor people, and\nespecially the children, are frightened and run away and hide\nthemselves; therefore, as long as you stay here as Rajah you cannot\nhope to see her. Your only means will be to send away your suite, and\ncause it be announced that you have left the place. Then, if you walk\ndaily in this garden, you may some morning meet the pretty Guzra\nBai,[42] of whom I speak.\"\n\n [41] _Solanum molengena_--the egg-shaped fruit of which is a\n favorite vegetable all over India.\n\n [42] Flower Girl.\n\nUpon this advice the Rajah acted; and one day whilst walking in the\ngarden he saw the Malee's young daughter, a girl of twelve years old,\nbusy gathering flowers. He went forward to accost her, but she, seeing\nthat he was not one of the villagers, but a stranger, was shy, and ran\nhome to her father's house.\n\nThe Rajah followed, for he was very much struck with her grace and\nbeauty; in fact, he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her, and\nthought he had never seen a king's daughter half so charming.\n\nWhen he got to the Malee's house the door was shut; so he called out,\n\"Let me in, good Malee; I am the Rajah, and I wish to marry your\ndaughter.\" The Malee only laughed, and answered, \"A pretty tale to\ntell a simple man, indeed! You a Rajah! why the Rajah is miles away.\nYou had better go home, my good fellow, for there's no welcome for you\nhere!\" But the Rajah continued calling till the Malee opened the door;\nwho then was indeed surprised, seeing it was truly no other than the\nRajah, and he asked what he could do for him.\n\nThe Rajah said, \"I wish to marry your beautiful daughter, Guzra Bai.\"\n\"No, no,\" said the Malee, \"this joke won't do. None of your Princes in\ndisguise for me. You may think you are a great Rajah and I only a poor\nMalee, but I tell you that makes no difference at all to me. Though\nyou were king of all the earth, I would not permit you to come here\nand amuse yourself chattering to my girl, only to fill her head with\nnonsense, and to break her heart.\"\n\n\"In truth, good man, you do me wrong,\" answered the Rajah, humbly: \"I\nmean what I say; I wish to marry your daughter.\"\n\n\"Do not think,\" retorted the Malee, \"that I'll make a fool of myself\nbecause I'm only a Malee, and believe what you've got to say, because\nyou're a great Rajah. Rajah or no Rajah is all one to me. If you mean\nwhat you say, if you care for my daughter and wish to be married to\nher, come and be married; but I'll have none of your new-fangled forms\nand court ceremonies hard to be understood; let the girl be married by\nher father's hearth and under her father's roof, and let us invite to\nthe wedding our old friends and acquaintance whom we've known all our\nlives, and before we ever thought of you.\"\n\nThe Rajah was not angry, but amused, and rather pleased than otherwise\nat the old man's frankness, and he consented to all that was desired.\n\nThe village beauty, Guzra Bai, was therefore married with as much\npomp as they could muster, but in village fashion, to the great Rajah,\nwho took her home with him, followed by the tears and blessings of her\nparents and playmates.\n\nThe twelve kings' daughters were by no means pleased at this addition\nto the number of the Ranees; and they agreed amongst themselves that\nit would be highly derogatory to their dignity to permit Guzra Bai to\nassociate with them, and that the Rajah, their husband, had offered\nthem an unpardonable insult in marrying a Malee's daughter, which was\nto be revenged upon her the very first opportunity.\n\nHaving made this league, they tormented poor Guzra Bai so much that to\nsave her from their persecutions, the Rajah built her a little house\nof her own, where she lived very, very happily for a short time.\n\nAt last one day he had occasion to go and visit a distant part of his\ndominions, but fearing his high-born wives might ill-use Guzra Bai in\nhis absence, at parting he gave her a little golden bell,[43] saying,\n\"If while I am away you are in any trouble, or any one should be\nunkind to you, ring this little bell, and wherever I am I shall\ninstantly hear it, and will return to your aid.\"\n\n [43] \"It must have been a kind of telegraph to go so quick,\" my\n Narrator said.\n\nNo sooner had the Rajah gone, than Guzra Bai thought she would try the\npower of the bell. So she rang it. The Rajah instantly appeared. \"What\ndo you want?\" he said. \"Oh, nothing,\" she replied. \"I was foolish. I\ncould hardly believe what you told me could be true, and thought I\nwould try.\" \"Now you will believe, I hope,\" he said, and went away. A\nsecond time she rang the bell. Again the Rajah returned. \"Oh, pardon\nme, husband,\" she said; \"it was wrong of me not to trust you, but I\nhardly thought you could return again from so far.\" \"Never mind,\" he\nsaid, \"only do not try the experiment again.\" And again he went away.\nA third time she rang the golden bell. \"Why do you ring again, Guzra\nBai?\" asked the Rajah sternly, as for a third time he returned. \"I\ndon't know, indeed; indeed I beg your pardon,\" she said; \"but I know\nnot why, I felt so frightened.\" \"Have any of the Ranees been unkind to\nyou?\" he asked. \"No, none,\" she answered; \"in fact, I have seen none\nof them.\" \"You are a silly child,\" said he, stroking her hair.\n\"Affairs of the state call me away. You must try and keep a good heart\ntill my return;\" and for the fourth time he disappeared.\n\nA little while after this, wonderful to relate, Guzra Bai had a\nhundred and one children!--a hundred boys and one girl. When the\nRanees heard this, they said to each other, \"Guzra Bai, the Malee's\ndaughter, will rank higher than us; she will have great power and\ninfluence as mother to the heir to the Raj;[44] let us kill these\nchildren, and tell our husband that she is a sorceress; then will he\nlove her no longer, and his old affection for us will return.\" So\nthese twelve wicked Ranees all went over to Guzra Bai's house. When\nGuzra Bai saw them coming, she feared they meant to do her some harm,\nso she seized her little golden bell, and rang, and rang, and\nrang--but no Rajah came. She had called him back so often that he did\nnot believe she really needed his help. And thus the poor woman was\nleft to the mercy of her implacable enemies.\n\n [44] Kingdom.\n\nNow the nurse who had charge of the hundred and one babies was an old\nservant of the twelve Ranees, and moreover a very wicked woman, able\nand willing to do whatever her twelve wicked old mistresses ordered.\nSo when they said to her, \"Can you kill these children?\" she answered,\n\"Nothing is easier; I will throw them out upon the dust-heap behind\nthe palace, where the rats and hawks and vultures will have left none\nof them remaining by to-morrow morning.\" \"So be it,\" said the Ranees.\nThen the nurse took the hundred and one little innocent children--the\nhundred little boys and the one little girl--and threw them behind the\npalace on the dust-heap, close to some large rat-holes; and after\nthat, she and the twelve Ranees placed a very large stone in each of\nthe babies' cradles, and said to Guzra Bai, \"Oh, you evil witch in\ndisguise, do not hope any longer to impose by your arts on the Rajah's\ncredulity. See, your children have all turned into stones. See these,\nyour pretty babies!\"--and with that they tumbled the hundred and one\nstones down in a great heap on the floor. Then Guzra Bai began to cry,\nfor she knew it was not true; but what could one poor woman do against\nthirteen? At the Rajah's return the twelve Ranees accused Guzra Bai of\nbeing a witch, and the nurse testified that the hundred and one\nchildren she had charge of had turned into stones, and the Rajah\nbelieved them rather than Guzra Bai, and he ordered her to be\nimprisoned for life.\n\nMeanwhile a Bandicote[45] had heard the pitiful cries of the\nchildren, and taking pity on them, dragged them all, one by one, into\nher hole, out of the way of kites and vultures. She then assembled all\nthe Bandicotes from far and near, and told them what she had done,\nbegging them to assist in finding food for the children. Then every\nday a hundred and one Bandicotes would come, each bringing a little\nbit of food in his mouth, and give it to one of the children; and so\nday by day they grew stronger and stronger, until they were able to\nrun about, and then they used to play of a morning at the mouth of the\nBandicote's hole, running in there to sleep every night. But one fine\nday who should come by but the wicked old nurse! Fortunately, all the\nboys were in the hole, and the little girl, who was playing outside,\non seeing her ran in there too, but not before the nurse had seen her.\nShe immediately went to the twelve Ranees and related this, saying, \"I\ncannot help thinking some of the children may still be living in those\nrat-holes. You had better send and have them dug out and killed.\" \"We\ndare not do that,\" answered they, \"for fear of causing suspicion; but\nwe will order some laborers to dig up that ground and make it into a\nfield, and that will effectually smother any of the children who may\nstill be alive.\" This plan was approved and forthwith carried into\nexecution; but the good Bandicote, who happened that day to be out on\na foraging expedition in the palace, heard all about it there, and\nimmediately running home, took all the children from her hole to a\nlarge well some distance off, where she hid them in the hollows behind\nthe steps leading down to the well, laying one child under each step.\n\n [45] A species of large rat.\n\nHere they would have been quite safe, had not the Dhobee[46] happened\nto go down to the well that day to wash some clothes, taking with him\nhis little girl. While her father was drawing up water, the child\namused herself running up and down the steps of the well. Now each\ntime her weight pressed down a step it gave the child hidden\nunderneath a little squeeze. All the hundred boys bore this without\nuttering a sound; but when the Dhobee's child trod on the step under\nwhich the little girl was hidden, she cried out, \"How can you be so\ncruel to me, trampling on me in this way? Have pity on me, for I am a\nlittle girl as well as you.\"\n\n [46] Washerman.\n\nWhen the child heard these words proceeding from the stone, she ran in\ngreat alarm to her father, saying, \"Father, I don't know what's the\nmatter, but something alive is certainly under those stones. I heard\nit speak; but whether it is a Rakshas or an angel or a human being I\ncannot tell.\" Then the Dhobee went to the twelve Ranees to tell them\nthe wonderful news about the voice in the well; and they said to each\nother, \"Maybe it's some of Guzra Bai's children; let us send and have\nthis inquired into.\" So they sent some people to pull down the well\nand see if some evil spirits were not there.\n\nThen laborers went to pull down the well. Now close to the well was a\nlittle temple dedicated to Gunputti, containing a small shrine and a\nlittle clay image of the god. When the children felt the well being\npulled down they called out for help and protection to Gunputti, who\ntook pity on them and changed them into trees growing by his temple--a\nhundred little mango trees all round in a circle (which were the\nhundred little boys), and a little rose bush in the middle, covered\nwith red and white roses, which was the little girl.\n\nThe laborers pulled down the well, but they found nothing there but a\npoor old Bandicote, which they killed. Then, by order of the twelve\nwicked Ranees, they sacrilegiously destroyed the little temple. But\nthey found no children there either. However, the Dhobee's mischievous\nlittle daughter had gone with her father to witness the work of\ndestruction, and as they were looking on, she said, \"Father, do look\nat all those funny little trees; I never remember noticing them here\nbefore.\" And being very inquisitive, she started off to have a nearer\nlook at them. There in a circle grew the hundred little mango trees,\nand in the centre of all the little rose bush, bearing the red and\nwhite roses.\n\nThe girl rushed by the mango trees, who uttered no words, and running\nup to the rose bush, began gathering some of the flowers. At this the\nrose bush trembled very much, and sighed and said, \"I am a little girl\nas well as you; how can you be so cruel? You are breaking all my\nribs.\" Then the child ran back to her father and said, \"Come and\nlisten to what the rose bush says.\" And the father repeated the news\nto the twelve Ranees, who ordered that a great fire should be made,\nand the hundred and one little trees be burnt in it, root and branch,\ntill not a stick remained.\n\nThe fire was made, and the hundred and one little trees were dug up\nand just going to be put into it, when Gunputti, taking pity on them,\ncaused a tremendous storm to come on, which put out the fire and\nflooded the country and swept the hundred and one trees into the\nriver, where they were carried down a long, long way by the torrent,\nuntil at last the children were landed, restored to their own shapes,\non the river bank, in the midst of a wild jungle, very far from any\nhuman habitation.\n\nHere these children lived for ten years, happy in their mutual love\nand affection. Generally every day fifty of the boys would go out to\ncollect roots and berries for their food, leaving fifty at home to\ntake care of their little sister: but sometimes they put her in some\nsafe place, and all would go out together for the day; nor were they\never molested in their excursions by bear, panther, snake, scorpion,\nor other noxious creature. One day all the brothers put their little\nsister safely up in a fine shady tree, and went out together to hunt.\nAfter rambling on for some time, they came to the hut of a savage\nRakshas, who in the disguise of an old woman had lived for many years\nin the jungle. The Rakshas, angry at this invasion of her domain, no\nsooner saw them than she changed them all into crows. Night came on,\nand their little sister was anxiously awaiting her brothers' return,\nwhen on a sudden she heard a loud whirring sound in the air, and round\nthe tree flocked a hundred black crows, cawing and offering her\nberries and roots which they had dug up with their sharp bills. Then\nthe little sister guessed too truly what must have happened--that some\nmalignant spirit had metamorphosed her brothers into this hideous\nshape; and at the sad sight she began to cry.\n\nTime wore on; every morning the crows flew away to collect food for\nher and for themselves, and every evening they returned to roost in\nthe branches of the high tree where she sat the livelong day, crying\nas if her heart would break.\n\nAt last so many bitter tears had she shed that they made a little\nstream which flowed from the foot of the tree right down through the\njungle.\n\nSome months after this, one fine day, a young Rajah from a neighboring\ncountry happened to be hunting in this very jungle; but he had not\nbeen very successful. Toward the close of the day he found himself\nfaint and weary, having missed his way and lost his comrades, with no\ncompanion save his dogs, who, being thirsty, ran hurriedly hither and\nthither in search of water. After some time, they saw in the distance\nwhat looked like a clear stream: the dogs rushed there and the tired\nprince, following them, flung himself down on the grass by the water's\nbrink, thinking to sleep there for the night; and, with his hands\nunder his head, stared up into the leafy branches of the tree above\nhim. Great was his astonishment to see high up in the air an immense\nnumber of crows, and above them all a most lovely young girl, who was\nfeeding them with berries and wild fruits. Quick as thought, he\nclimbed the tree, and bringing her carefully and gently down, seated\nher on the grass beside him, saying, \"Tell me, pretty lady, who you\nare, and how you come to be living in this dreary palace?\" So she told\nhim all her adventures, except that she did not say the hundred crows\nwere her hundred brothers. Then the Rajah said, \"Do not cry any more,\nfair Princess; you shall come home with me and be my Ranee, and my\nfather and mother shall be yours.\" At this she smiled and dried her\neyes, but quickly added, \"You will let me take these crows with me,\nwill you not? for I love them dearly, and I cannot go away unless they\nmay come too.\" \"To be sure,\" he answered. \"You may bring all the\nanimals in the jungle with you, if you like, so you will only come.\"\n\nSo he took her home to his father's house, and the old Rajah and Ranee\nwondered much at this jungle Lady, when they saw her rare beauty, her\nmodest gentle ways and her queenly grace. Then the young Rajah told\nthem how she was a persecuted Princess, and asked their leave to marry\nher; and because her loving goodness had won all hearts, they gave\ntheir consent as joyfully as if she had been daughter of the greatest\nof Rajahs, and brought with her a splendid dower; and they called her\nDraupadi Bai.[47]\n\n [47] Doubtless after the beautiful Princess Draupadi, daughter of\n the Rajah of Panchala, and a famous character in the great Hindoo\n epic, the \"Maha Bharata.\"\n\nDraupadi had some beautiful trees planted in front of her palace, in\nwhich the crows, her brothers, used to live, and she daily with her\nown hands boiled a quantity of rice, which she would scatter for them\nto eat as they flocked around her. Now some time after this, Draupadi\nBai had a son, who was called Ramchundra. He was a very good boy, and\nhis mother Draupadi Bai used to take him to school every morning, and\ngo and fetch him home in the evening. But one day, when Ramchundra was\nabout fourteen years old, it happened that Draupadi Bai did not go to\nfetch him home from school as she was wont; and on his return he found\nher sitting under the trees in front of her palace, stroking the\nglossy black crows that flocked around her, and weeping.\n\nThen Ramchundra threw down his bundle of books, and said to his\nmother, putting his elbows on her knees, and looking up in her face,\n\"Mammy, dear, tell me why you are now crying, and what it is that\nmakes you so often sad.\" \"Oh, nothing, nothing,\" she answered. \"Yes,\ndear mother,\" said he, \"do tell me. Can I help you? If I can, I will.\"\nDraupadi Bai shook her head. \"Alas, no, my son,\" she said; \"you are\ntoo young to help me; and as for my grief, I have never told it to any\none. I cannot tell it to you now.\" But Ramchundra continued begging\nand praying her to tell him, until at last she did; relating to him\nall her own and his uncles' sad history; and lastly, how they had been\nchanged by a Rakshas into the black crows he saw around him. Then the\nboy sprang up and said, \"Which way did your brothers take when they\nmet the Rakshas?\" \"How can I tell?\" she asked. \"Why,\" he answered, \"I\nthought perhaps you might remember on which side they returned that\nfirst night to you, after being bewitched?\" \"Oh,\" she said, \"they came\ntoward the tree from that part of the jungle which lies in a straight\nline behind the palace.\" \"Very well,\" cried Ramchundra, joyfully, \"I\nalso will go there, and find out this wicked old Rakshas, and learn by\nwhat means they may be disenchanted.\" \"No, no, my son,\" she answered,\n\"I cannot let you go: see, I have lost father and mother, and these my\nhundred brothers; and now, if you fall into the Rakshas' clutches as\nwell as they, and are lost to me, what will life have worth living\nfor?\" To this he replied, \"Do not fear for me, mother; I will be wary\nand discreet.\" And going to his father, he said, \"Father, it is time I\nshould see something of the world. I beg you to permit me to travel\nand see other lands.\" The Rajah answered, \"You shall go. Tell me what\nattendants you would like to accompany you?\" \"Give me,\" said\nRamchundra, \"a horse to ride, and a groom to take care of it.\" The\nRajah consented, and Ramchundra set off riding toward the jungle; but\nas soon as he got there, he sent his horse back by the groom with a\nmessage to his parents, and proceeded alone, on foot.\n\nAfter wandering about for some time he came upon a small hut, in which\nlay an ugly old woman fast asleep. She had long claws instead of\nhands, and her hair hung down all around her in a thick black tangle.\nRamchundra knew, by the whole appearance of the place, that he must\nhave reached the Rakshas' abode of which he was in search; so,\nstealing softly in, he sat down and began shampooing her head. At last\nthe Rakshas woke up. \"You dear little boy,\" she said, \"do not be\nafraid; I am only a poor old woman, and will not hurt you. Stay with\nme, and you shall be my servant.\" This she said not from any feeling\nof kindness or pity for Ramchundra, but merely because she thought he\nmight be helpful to her. So the young Rajah remained in her service,\ndetermining to stay there till he should have learnt from her all that\nhe wished to know.\n\nThus one day he said to her, \"Good mother, what is the use of all\nthose little jars of water you have arranged round your house?\" She\nanswered, \"That water possesses certain magical attributes: if any of\nit is sprinkled on people enchanted by me, they instantly resume their\nformer shape.\" \"And what,\" he continued, \"is the use of your wand?\"\n\"That,\" she replied, \"has many supernatural powers: for instance, by\nsimply uttering your wish and waving it in the air, you can conjure up\na mountain, a river or a forest in a moment of time.\"\n\nAnother day Ramchundra said to her, \"Your hair, good mother, is\ndreadfully tangled; pray let me comb it.\" \"No,\" she said, \"you must\nnot touch my hair; it would be dangerous; for every hair has power to\nset the jungle on fire.\" \"How is that?\" he asked. She replied, \"The\nleast fragment of my hair thrown in the direction of the jungle would\ninstantly set it in a blaze.\" Having learnt all this, one day when it\nwas very hot, and the old Rakshas was drowsy, Ramchundra begged leave\nto shampoo her head, which speedily sent her to sleep; then, gently\npulling out two or three of her hairs, he got up, and taking in one\nhand her wand, and in the other two jars of the magic water, he\nstealthily left the hut; but he had not gone far before she woke up,\nand instantly divining what he had done, pursued him with great\nrapidity. Ramchundra, looking back and perceiving that she was gaining\nupon him, waved the enchanted wand and created a great river, which\nsuddenly rolled its tumultuous waves between them; but, quick as\nthought, the Rakshas swam the river.\n\nThen he turned, and waving the wand again, caused a high mountain to\nrise between them; but the Rakshas climbed the mountain. Nearer she\ncame, and yet nearer; each time he turned to use the wand and put\nobstacles in her way, the delay gave her a few minutes' advantage, so\nthat he lost almost as much as he gained. Then, as a last resource, he\nscattered the hairs he had stolen to the winds, and instantly the\njungle on the hill side, through which the Rakshas was coming, was set\nin a blaze; the fire rose higher and higher, the wicked old Rakshas\nwas consumed by the flames, and Ramchundra pursued his journey in\nsafety until he reached his father's palace. Draupadi Bai was\noverjoyed to see her son again, and he led her out into the garden,\nand scattered the magic water on the hundred black crows, which\ninstantly recovered their human forms, and stood up one hundred fine,\nhandsome young men.\n\nThen were there rejoicings throughout the country, because the Ranee's\nbrothers had been disenchanted; and the Rajah sent out into all\nneighboring lands to invite their Rajahs and Ranees to a great feast\nin honor of his brothers-in-law.\n\nAmong others who came to the feast was the Rajah Draupadi Bai's\nfather, and the twelve wicked Ranees his wives.\n\nWhen they were all assembled, Draupadi arose, and said to him, \"Noble\nsir, we had looked to see your wife Guzra Bai with you. Pray you tell\nus wherefore she has not accompanied you.\" The Rajah was much\nsurprised to learn that Draupadi Bai knew anything about Guzra Bai,\nand he said, \"Speak not of her: she is a wicked woman; it is fit that\nshe should end her days in prison.\" But Draupadi Bai and her husband,\nand her hundred brothers, rose and said, \"We require, O Rajah, that\nyou send home instantly and fetch hither that much injured lady,\nwhich, if you refuse to do, your wives shall be imprisoned, and you\nignominiously expelled this kingdom.\"\n\nThe Rajah could not guess what the meaning of this was, and thought\nthey merely wished to pick a quarrel with him: but not much caring\nwhether Guzra Bai came or not, he sent for her as was desired. When\nshe arrived, her daughter Draupadi Bai, and her hundred sons, with\nDraupadi Bai's husband and the young Ramchundra, went out to the gate\nto meet her, and conducted her into the palace with all honor. Then,\nstanding around her, they turned to the Rajah her husband, and related\nto him the story of their lives; how that they were his children, and\nGuzra Bai their mother; how she had been cruelly calumniated by the\ntwelve wicked Ranees, and they in constant peril of their lives; but\nhaving miraculously escaped many terrible dangers, still lived to pay\nhim duteous service and to cheer and support his old age.\n\nAt this news the whole company was very much astonished. The Rajah,\noverjoyed, embraced his wife Guzra Bai, and it was agreed that she and\ntheir hundred sons should return with him to his own land, which\naccordingly was done. Ramchundra lived very happily with his father\nand mother to the day of their death, when he ascended the throne, and\nbecame a very popular Rajah; and the twelve wicked old Ranees, who had\nconspired against Guzra Bai and her children, were, by order of the\nRajah, burnt to death. Thus truth triumphed in the end; but so\nunequally is human justice meted out that the old nurse, who worked\ntheir evil will, and was in fact the most guilty wretch of all, is\nsaid to have lived unpunished, to have died in the bosom of her\nfamily, and to have had as big a funeral pile as any virtuous Hindoo.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nV.\n\n_RAMA AND LUXMAN; OR, THE LEARNED OWL._\n\n \"With a lengthened loud halloo,\n Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo.\"\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Rajah whose name was Chandra Rajah,[48]\nand he had a learned Wuzeer or Minister, named Butti. Their mutual\nlove was so great that they were more like brothers than master and\nservant. Neither the Rajah nor the Wuzeer had any children, and both\nwere equally anxious to have a son. At last, in one day and one hour,\nthe wife of the Rajah and the wife of the Wuzeer had each a little\nbaby boy. They named the Rajah's son Rama, and the son of the Wuzeer\nwas called Luxman, and there were great rejoicings at the birth of\nboth. The boys grew up and loved each other tenderly: they were never\nhappy unless together; together they went to daily school, together\nbathed and played, and they would not eat except from off one plate.\nOne day, when Rama Rajah was fifteen years old, his mother, the Ranee,\nsaid to Chandra Rajah: \"Husband, our son associates too much with low\npeople; for instance, he is always at play with the Wuzeer's son,\nLuxman, which is not befitting his rank. I wish you would endeavor to\nput an end to their friendship, and find him better playmates.\"\n\n [48] Moon-King.\n\nChandra Rajah replied, \"I cannot do it: Luxman's father is my very\ngood friend and Wuzeer, as his father's father was to my father; let\nthe sons be the same.\" This answer annoyed the Ranee, but she said no\nmore to her husband; she sent, however, for all the wise people, and\nseers, and conjurors in the land, and inquired of them whether there\nexisted no means of dissolving the children's affection for each\nother; they answered they knew of none. At last one old Nautch[49]\nwoman came to the Ranee and said, \"I can do this thing you wish, but\nfor it you must give me a great reward.\" Then the Ranee gave the old\nwoman an enormous bag full of gold mohurs,[50] and said, \"This I give\nyou now, and if you succeed in the undertaking I will give you as much\nagain.\" So this wicked old woman disguised herself in a very rich\ndress, and went to a garden-house which Chandra Rajah had built for\nhis son, and where Rama Rajah and Luxman, the young Wuzeer, used to\nspend the greater part of their playtime. Outside the house was a\nlarge well and a fine garden. When the old woman arrived, the two boys\nwere playing cards together in the garden close to the well. She drew\nnear, and began drawing water from it. Rama Rajah looking up, saw her,\nand said to Luxman, \"Go, see who that richly-dressed woman is, and\nbring me word.\" The Wuzeer's son did as he was bidden, and asked the\nwoman what she wanted. She answered, \"Nothing, oh nothing,\" and\nnodding her head went away; then, returning to the Ranee, she said,\n\"I have done as you wished; give me the promised reward,\" and the\nRanee gave her the second bag of gold. On Luxman's return, the young\nRajah said to him, \"What did the woman want?\" Luxman answered, \"She\ntold me she wanted nothing.\" \"It is not true,\" replied the other,\nangrily; \"I feel certain she must have told you something. Why should\nshe come here for no purpose? It is some secret which you are\nconcealing from me; I insist on knowing it.\" Luxman vainly protesting\nhis innocence, they quarreled and then fought, and the young Rajah ran\nhome very angry to his father. \"What is the matter, my son?\" said he.\n\"Father,\" he answered, \"I am angry with the Wuzeer's son. I hate that\nboy; kill him, and let his eyes be brought to me in proof of his\ndeath, or I will not eat my dinner.\" Chandra Rajah was very much\ngrieved at this, but the young Rajah would eat no dinner, and at last\nhis father said to the Wuzeer, \"Take your son away and hide him, for\nthe boys have had a quarrel.\" Then he went out and shot a deer, and\nshowing its eyes to Rama, said to him, \"See, my son, the good Wuzeer's\nson has by your order been deprived of life,\" and Rama Rajah was\nmerry, and ate his dinner. But a while after he began to miss his kind\nplaymate; there was nobody he cared for to tell him stories and amuse\nhim. Then for four nights running he dreamed of a beautiful Glass\nPalace, in which dwelt a Princess white as marble, and he sent for all\nthe wise people in the kingdom to interpret his dream, but none could\ndo it; and, thinking upon this fair princess and his lost friend, he\ngot more and more sad, and said to himself: \"There is nobody to help\nme in this matter. Ah! if my Wuzeer's son were here now, how quickly\nwould he interpret the dream! Oh, my friend, my friend, my dear lost\nfriend!\" and when Chandra Rajah, his father, came in, he said to him:\n\"Show me the grave of Luxman, son of the Wuzeer, that I also may die\nthere.\" His father replied, \"What a foolish boy you are! You first\nbegged that the Wuzeer's son might be killed, and now you want to die\non his grave. What is all this about?\" Rama Rajah replied, \"Oh, why\ndid you give the order for him to be put to death? In him I have lost\nmy friend and all my joy in life; show me now his grave, for thereon,\nI swear, will I kill myself.\" When the Rajah saw that his son really\ngrieved for the loss of Luxman, he said to him, \"You have to thank me\nfor not regarding your foolish wishes; your old playmate is living,\ntherefore be friends again, for what you thought were his eyes were\nbut the eyes of a deer.\" So the friendship of Rama and Luxman was\nresumed on its former footing. Then Rama said to Luxman, \"Four nights\nago I dreamed a strange dream. I thought that for miles and miles I\nwandered through a dense jungle, after which I came upon a grove of\nCocoa-nut trees, passing through which I reached one compound entirely\nof Guava trees, then one of Soparee[51] trees, and lastly one of Copal\ntrees: beyond this lay a garden of flowers, of which the Malee's wife\ngave me a bunch; round the garden ran a large river, and on the other\nside of this I saw a fair palace composed of transparent glass, and in\nthe centre of it sat the most lovely Princess I ever saw, white as\nmarble and covered with rich jewels; at the sight of her beauty I\nfainted--and so awoke. This has happened now four times, and as yet I\nhave found no one capable of throwing any light on the vision.\"\nLuxman answered, \"I can tell you. There exists a Princess exactly like\nher you saw in your dreams, and, if you like, you can go and marry\nher.\" \"How can I?\" said Rama; \"and what is your interpretation of the\ndream?\" The Wuzeer's son replied, \"Listen to me, and I will tell you.\nIn a country very far away from this, in the centre of a great Rajah's\nkingdom, there dwells his daughter, a most fair Princess; she lives in\na glass palace. Round this palace runs a large river, and round the\nriver is a garden of flowers. Round the garden are four thick groves\nof trees--one of Copal trees, one of Soparee trees, one of Guava\ntrees, and one of Cocoa-nut trees. The Princess is twenty-four years\nold, but she is not married, for she has determined only to marry\nwhoever can jump this river and greet her in her crystal palace, and\nthough many thousand kings have essayed to do so, they have all\nperished miserably in the attempt, having either been drowned in the\nriver, or broken their necks by falling; thus all that you dreamed of\nis perfectly true.\" \"Can we go to this country?\" asked the young\nRajah. \"Oh, yes,\" his friend replied. \"This is what you must do. Go\ntell your father you wish to see the world. Ask him for neither\nelephants nor attendants, but beg him to lend you for the journey his\nold war-horse.\"\n\n [49] The caste to which conjurors belong.\n\n [50] Gold pieces, worth about $7.50.\n\n [51] _Areca catechu_--the betel-nut palm.\n\nUpon this Rama went to his father, and said, \"Father, I pray you give\nme leave to go and travel with the Wuzeer's son. I desire to see the\nworld.\" \"What would you have for the journey, my son?\" said Chandra\nRajah; \"will you have elephants and how many?--attendants, how many?\"\n\"Neither, father,\" he answered, \"give me rather, I pray you, your old\nwar-horse, that I may ride him during the journey.\" \"So be it, my\nson,\" he answered, and with that Rama Rajah and Luxman set forth on\ntheir travels. After going many, many thousands of miles, to their joy\none day they came upon a dense grove of Cocoa-nut trees, and beyond\nthat to a grove of Guava trees, then to one of Soparee trees, and\nlastly to one of Copal trees; after which they entered a beautiful\ngarden, where the Malee's wife presented them with a large bunch of\nflowers. Then they knew that they had nearly reached the place where\nthe fair Princess dwelt. Now it happened that, because many kings and\ngreat people had been drowned in trying to jump over the river that\nran round the Glass Palace where the Princess lived, the Rajah, her\nfather, had made a law that, in future, no aspirants to her hand were\nto attempt the jump, except at stated times and with his knowledge and\npermission, and that any Rajahs or Princes found wandering there,\ncontrary to this law, were to be imprisoned. Of this the young Rajah\nand the Wuzeer's son knew nothing, and having reached the centre of\nthe garden they found themselves on the banks of a large river,\nexactly opposite the wondrous Glass Palace, and were just debating\nwhat further steps to take, when they were seized by the Rajah's\nguard, and hurried off to prison.\n\n\"This is a hard fate,\" said Luxman. \"Yes,\" sighed Rama Rajah; \"a\ndismal end, in truth, to all our fine schemes. Would it be possible,\nthink you, to escape?\" \"I think so,\" answered Luxman; \"at all events,\nI will try.\" With that he turned to the sentry who was guarding them,\nand said, \"We are shut in here and can't get out: here is money for\nyou if you will only have the goodness to call out that the Malee's\nCow has strayed away.\" The sentry thought this a very easy way of\nmaking a fortune; so he called out as he was bidden, and took the\nmoney. The result answered Luxman's anticipations. The Malee's wife,\nhearing the sentry calling out, thought to herself, \"What, sentries\nround the guard-room again! then there must be prisoners; doubtless\nthey are those two young Rajahs I met in the garden this morning; at\nleast, I will endeavor to release them.\" So she asked two old beggars\nto accompany her, and taking with her offerings of flowers and\nsweetmeats, started as if to go to a little temple which was built\nwithin the quadrangle where the prisoners were kept. The sentries,\nthinking she was only going with two old friends to visit the temple,\nallowed her to pass without opposition. As soon as she got within the\nquadrangle she unfastened the prison door, and told the two young men\n(Rama Rajah and Luxman) to change clothes with the two old beggars,\nwhich they instantly did. Then, leaving the beggars in the cell, she\nconducted Rama and Luxman safely to her house. When they had reached\nit she said to them, \"Young Princes, you must know that you did very\nwrong in going down to the river before having made a salaam to our\nRajah, and gained his consent; and so strict is the law on the subject\nthat had I not assisted your escape, you might have remained a long\ntime in prison; though, as I felt certain you only erred through\nignorance, I was the more willing to help you; but to-morrow morning\nearly you must go and pay your respects at court.\"\n\nNext day the guards brought their two prisoners to the Rajah, saying,\n\"See, O King, here are two young Rajahs whom we caught last night\nwandering near the river contrary to your law and commandment.\" But\nwhen they came to look at the prisoners, lo and behold! they were only\ntwo old beggars whom everybody knew and had often seen at the palace\ngate.\n\nThen the Rajah laughed and said, \"You stupid fellows, you have been\nover vigilant for once; see here your fine young Rajahs. Don't you yet\nknow the looks of these old beggars?\" Whereupon the guards went away\nmuch ashamed of themselves.\n\nHaving learnt discretion from the advice of the Malee's wife, Rama and\nLuxman went betimes that morning to call at the Rajah's palace. The\nRajah received them very graciously, but when he heard the object of\nthe journey he shook his head, and said, \"My pretty fellows, far be it\nfrom me to thwart your intentions, if you are really determined to\nstrive to win my daughter, the Princess Bargaruttee;[52] but as a\nfriend I would counsel you to desist from the attempt. You can find a\nhundred Princesses elsewhere willing to marry you; why, therefore,\ncome here, where already a thousand Princes as fair as you have lost\nthere lives? Cease to think of my daughter--she is a headstrong girl.\"\nBut Rama Rajah still declared himself anxious to try and jump the\ndangerous river, whereupon the Rajah unwillingly consented to his\nattempting to do so, and caused it to be solemnly proclaimed around\nthe town that another Prince was going to risk his life, begging all\ngood men and true to pray for his success. Then Rama, having dressed\ngorgeously, and mounted his father's stout war-horse, put spurs to it\nand galloped to the river. Up, up in the air, like a bird, jumped the\ngood war-horse, right across the river and into the very centre\ncourtyard of the Glass Palace of the Princess Bargaruttee; and, as if\nashamed of so poor an exploit, this feat he accomplished three times.\nAt this the heart of the Rajah was glad, and he ran and patted the\nbrave horse, and kissed Rama Rajah, and said, \"Welcome, my\nson-in-law.\" The wedding took place amid great rejoicings, with\nfeasts, illuminations and much giving of presents, and there Rama\nRajah and his wife, the Ranee Bargaruttee, lived happily for some\ntime. At last, one day Rama Rajah said to his father-in-law, \"Sire, I\nhave been very happy here, but I have a great desire to see my father\nand my mother, and my own land again.\" To which the Rajah replied, \"My\nson, you are free to go; but I have no son but you, nor daughter but\nyour wife: therefore, as it grieves me to lose sight of you, come back\nnow and then to see me and rejoice my heart. My doors are ever open to\nyou; you will be always welcome.\"\n\n [52] A name of the Ganges.\n\nRama Rajah promised to return occasionally; and then, being given many\nrich gifts by the old Rajah, and supplied with all things needful for\nthe journey, he, with his beautiful wife Bargaruttee, his friend the\nyoung Wuzeer, and a great retinue, set out to return home. Before\ngoing, Rama Rajah and Luxman richly rewarded the kind Malee's wife,\nwho had helped them so ably. On the first evening of their march the\ntravelers reached the borders of the Cocoa-nut grove, on the outskirts\nof the jungle; here they determined to halt and rest for the night.\nRama Rajah and the Ranee Bargaruttee went to their tent; but Luxman\n(whose tender love for them was so great that he usually watched all\nnight through at their door), was sitting under a large tree close by,\nwhen two little owls flew over his head, and perching on one of the\nhighest branches, began chattering to each other.[53] The Wuzeer's\nson, who was in many ways wiser than most men, could understand their\nlanguage. To his surprise he heard the little lady owl say to her\nhusband, \"I wish you would tell me a story, my dear, it is such a long\ntime since I have heard one.\" To which her husband, the other little\nowl, answered, \"A story! what story can I tell you? Do you see these\npeople encamped under our tree? Would you like to hear their story?\"\nShe assented; and he began: \"See first this poor Wuzeer; he is a good\nand faithful man, and has done much for this young Rajah, but neither\nhas that been to his advantage heretofore, nor will it be hereafter.\"\nAt this Luxman listened more attentively, and taking out his writing\ntablets determined to note down all he heard. The little owl commenced\nwith the story of the birth of Rama and Luxman, of their friendship,\ntheir quarrel, the young Rajah's dream, and their reconciliation, and\nthen told of their subsequent adventures in search of the Princess\nBargaruttee, down to that very day on which they were journeying home.\n\"And what more has Fate in store for this poor Wuzeer?\" asked the lady\nowl. \"From this place,\" replied her husband, \"he will journey on with\nthe young Rajah and Ranee, until they get very near Chandra Rajah's\ndominions; there, as the whole cavalcade is about to pass under a\nlarge Banyan tree, this Wuzeer Luxman will notice some of the topmost\nbranches swaying about in a dangerous manner; he will hurry the Rajah\nand Ranee away from it, and the tree (which would otherwise have\ninevitably killed them,) will fall to the ground with a tremendous\ncrash; but even his having thus saved the Rajah's life shall not\navert his fate.\" (All this the Wuzeer noted down.) \"And what next?\"\nsaid the wife, \"what next?\" \"Next,\" continued the wise little\nstory-teller, \"next, just as the Rajah Rama and the Ranee Bargaruttee\nand all their suite are passing under the palace door-way, the Wuzeer\nwill notice that the arch is insecure, and by dragging them quickly\nthrough, prevent their being crushed in its fall.\" \"And what will he\ndo after that, dear husband?\" she asked. \"After that,\" he went on,\n\"when the Rajah and Ranee are asleep, and the Wuzeer Luxman keeping\nguard over them, he will perceive a large cobra slowly crawling down\nthe wall and drawing nearer and nearer to the Ranee. He will kill it\nwith his sword, but a drop of the cobra's blood shall fall on the\nRanee's white forehead. The Wuzeer will not dare to wipe the blood off\nher forehead with his hand, but shall instead cover his face with a\ncloth that he may lick it off with his tongue; but for this the Rajah\nwill be angry with him, and his reproaches will turn this poor Wuzeer\ninto stone.\"\n\n [53] See Notes at the end.\n\n\"Will he always remain stone?\" asked the lady owl. \"Not for ever,\"\nanswered the husband, \"but for eight long years he will remain so.\"\n\"And what then?\" demanded she. \"Then,\" answered the other, \"when the\nyoung Rajah and Ranee have a baby, it shall come to pass that one day\nthe child shall be playing on the floor, and to help itself along\nshall clasp hold of the stony figure, and at that baby's touch the\nWuzeer will come to life again. But I have told you enough for one\nnight; come, let's catch mice--tuwhit, tuwhoo, tuwhoo,\" and away flew\nthe owls. Luxman had written down all he heard, and it made him\nheavy-hearted, but he thought, \"Perhaps, after all, this may not be\ntrue.\" So he said nothing about it to any living soul. Next day they\ncontinued their journey, and as the owl had prophesied, so events fell\nout. For, as the whole party were passing under a large Banyan tree,\nthe Wuzeer noticed that it looked unsafe. \"The owl spake truly,\" he\nthought to himself, and, seizing the Rajah and Ranee, he hurried them\nfrom under it, just as a huge limb of the tree fell prone with a\nfearful crash.\n\nA little while after, having reached Chandra Rajah's dominions, they\nwere just going under the great arch of the palace courtyard, when the\nWuzeer noticed some of the stones tottering. \"The owl was a true\nprophet,\" thought he again, and catching hold of the hands of Rama\nRajah and Bargaruttee Ranee, he pulled them rapidly through, just in\ntime to save their lives. \"Pardon me,\" he said to the Rajah, \"that\nunbidden I dared thus to touch your hand and that of the Ranee, but I\nsaw the danger imminent.\" So they reached home, where they were\njoyfully welcomed by Chandra Rajah, the Ranee, the Wuzeer (Luxman's\nfather), and all the court.\n\nA few nights afterward, when the Rajah and Ranee were asleep, and the\nyoung Wuzeer keeping guard over them as he was wont, he saw a large\nblack cobra stealthily creeping down the wall just above the Ranee's\nhead. \"Alas!\" he thought, \"then such is my fate, and so it must be;\nnevertheless, I will do my duty,\" and, taking from the folds of his\ndress the history of his and the young Rajah's life, from their\nboyhood down to that very time (as he had written it from the owl's\nnarrative), he laid it beside the sleeping Rama, and drawing his\nsword, killed the cobra. A few drops of the serpent's blood fell on\nthe Ranee's forehead: the Wuzeer did not dare to touch it with his\nhand, but, that her sacred brow might not be defiled with the vile\ncobra's blood, he reverently covered his face and mouth with a cloth\nto lick the drops of blood away. At this moment the Rajah started up,\nand seeing him, said: \"O Wuzeer, Wuzeer, is this well done of you? O\nLuxman, who have been to me as a brother, who have saved me from so\nmany difficulties, why do you treat me thus, to kiss her holy\nforehead? If indeed you loved her (as who could help it?), could you\nnot have told me when we first saw her in that Glass Palace, and I\nwould have exiled myself that she might be your wife? O my brother, my\nbrother, why did you mock me thus?\" The Rajah had buried his face in\nhis hands; he looked up, he turned to the Wuzeer, but from him came\nneither answer nor reply. He had become a senseless stone. Then Rama\nfor the first time perceived the roll of paper which Luxman had laid\nbeside him, and when he read in it of what Luxman had been to him from\nboyhood, and of the end, his bitter grief broke through all bounds;\nand, falling at the feet of the statue, he clasped its stony knees and\nwept aloud. When daylight dawned, Chandra Rajah and the Ranee found\nRama still weeping and hugging the stone, asking its forgiveness with\npenitent cries and tears. Then they said to him, \"What is this you\nhave done?\" When he told them, the Rajah his father was very angry,\nand said: \"Was it not enough that you should have once before unjustly\ndesired the death of this good man, but that now by your rash\nreproaches you should have turned him into stone? Go to; you do but\ncontinually what is evil.\"\n\nNow eight long years rolled by without the Wuzeer returning to his\noriginal form, although every day Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee\nwould watch beside him, kissing his cold hands, and adjuring him by\nall endearing names to forgive them and return to them again. When\neight years had expired, Rama and Bargaruttee had a child; and from\nthe time it was nine months old and first began to try and crawl\nabout, the father and mother would sit and watch beside it, placing it\nnear the Wuzeer's statue, in hopes that the baby would some day touch\nit as the owl had foretold.\n\nBut for three months they watched in vain. At last, one day when the\nchild was a year old, and was trying to walk, it chanced to be close\nto the statue, and tottering on its unsteady feet, stretched out its\ntiny hands and caught hold of the foot of the statue. The Wuzeer\ninstantly came back to life, and stooping down seized the little baby\nwho had rescued him in his arms, and kissed it. It is impossible to\ndescribe the delight of Rama Rajah and his wife at regaining their\nlong-lost friend. The old Rajah and Ranee rejoiced also, with the\nWuzeer (Luxman Wuzeer's father), and his mother.\n\nThen Chandra Rajah said to the Wuzeer: \"Here is my boy happy with his\nwife and child, while your son has neither; go fetch him a wife, and\nwe will have a right merry wedding.\"\n\nSo the Wuzeer of the Rajah fetched for his son a kind and beautiful\nwife, and Chandra Rajah and Rama Rajah caused the wedding of Luxman to\nbe grander than that of any great Rajah before or since, even as if\nhe had been a son of the royal house; and they all lived very happy\never after, as all good fathers, and mothers, and husbands, and wives,\nand children do.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nVI.\n\n_LITTLE SURYA BAI._\n\n\nA poor Milkwoman was once going into the town with cans full of milk\nto sell. She took with her her little daughter (a baby of about a year\nold), having no one in whose charge to leave her at home. Being tired,\nshe sat down by the road-side, placing the child and the cans full of\nmilk beside her; when, on a sudden, two large eagles flew overhead;\nand one, swooping down, seized the child, and flew away with her out\nof the mother's sight.\n\nVery far, far away the eagles carried the little baby, even beyond the\nborders of her native land, until they reached their home in a lofty\ntree. There the old eagles had built a great nest; it was made of iron\nand wood, and was as big as a little house; there was iron all round,\nand to get in and out you had to go through seven iron doors.\n\nIn this stronghold they placed the little baby, and because she was\nlike a young eaglet they called her Surya Bai (the Sun Lady). The\neagles both loved the child; and daily they flew into distant\ncountries to bring her rich and precious things--clothes that had been\nmade for princesses, precious jewels, wonderful playthings, all that\nwas most costly and rare.\n\nOne day, when Surya Bai was twelve years old, the old husband Eagle\nsaid to his wife, \"Wife, our daughter has no diamond ring on her\nlittle finger, such as princesses wear; let us go and fetch her one.\"\n\"Yes,\" said the other old Eagle; \"but to fetch it we must go very\nfar.\" \"True,\" rejoined he, \"such a ring is not to be got nearer than\nthe Red Sea, and that is a twelvemonth's journey from here;\nnevertheless we will go.\" So the Eagles started off, leaving Surya Bai\nin the strong nest, with twelve months' provisions (that she might not\nbe hungry whilst they were away), and a little dog and cat to take\ncare of her.\n\nNot long after they were gone, one day the naughty little cat stole\nsome food from the store, for doing which Surya Bai punished her. The\ncat did not like being whipped, and she was still more annoyed at\nhaving been caught stealing; so, in revenge, she ran to the fireplace\n(they were obliged to keep a fire always burning in the Eagle's nest,\nas Surya Bai never went down from the tree, and would not otherwise\nhave been able to cook her dinner), and put out the fire. When the\nlittle girl saw this she was much vexed, for the cat had eaten their\nlast cooked provisions, and she did not know what they were to do for\nfood. For three whole days Surya Bai puzzled over the difficulty, and\nfor three whole days she and the dog and the cat had nothing to eat.\nAt last she thought she would climb to the edge of the nest, and see\nif she could see any fire in the country below; and, if so, she would\ngo down and ask the people who lighted it to give her a little with\nwhich to cook her dinner. So she climbed to the edge of the nest.\nThen, very far away on the horizon, she saw a thin curl of blue smoke.\nSo she let herself down from the tree, and all day long she walked in\nthe direction whence the smoke came. Toward evening she reached the\nplace, and found it rose from a small hut in which sat an old woman\nwarming her hands over a fire. Now, though Surya Bai did not know it,\nshe had reached the Rakshas' country, and this old woman was none\nother than a wicked old Rakshas, who lived with her son in the little\nhut. The young Rakshas, however, had gone out for the day. When the\nold Rakshas saw Surya Bai, she was much astonished, for the girl was\nbeautiful as the sun, and her rich dress was resplendent with jewels;\nand she said to herself, \"How lovely this child is; what a dainty\nmorsel she would be! Oh, if my son were only here we would kill her,\nand boil her, and eat her. I will try and detain her till his return.\"\nThen, turning to Surya Bai, she said, \"Who are you, and what do you\nwant?\" Surya Bai answered, \"I am the daughter of the great Eagles, but\nthey have gone a far journey, to fetch me a diamond ring, and the fire\nhas died out in the nest. Give me, I pray you, a little from your\nhearth.\" The Rakshas replied, \"You shall certainly have some, only\nfirst pound this rice for me, for I am old, and have no daughter to\nhelp me.\" Then Surya Bai pounded the rice, but the young Rakshas had\nnot returned by the time she had finished; so the old Rakshas said to\nher, \"If you are kind, grind this corn for me, for it is hard work for\nmy old hands.\" Then she ground the corn, but still the young Rakshas\ncame not; and the old Rakshas said to her, \"Sweep the house for me\nfirst, and then I will give you the fire.\" So Surya Bai swept the\nhouse; but still the young Rakshas did not come.\n\nThen his mother said to Surya Bai, \"Why should you be in such a hurry\nto go home? fetch me some water from the well, and then you shall have\nthe fire.\" And she fetched the water. When she had done so, Surya Bai\nsaid, \"I have done all your bidding, now give me the fire, or I will\ngo elsewhere and seek it.\"\n\nThe old Rakshas was grieved because her son had not returned home; but\nshe saw she could detain Surya Bai no longer, so she said, \"Take the\nfire and go in peace; take also some parched corn, and scatter it\nalong the road as you go, so as to make a pretty little pathway from\nour house to yours,\"--and so saying, she gave Surya Bai several\nhandsful of parched corn. The girl took them, fearing no evil, and as\nshe went she scattered the grains on the road. Then she climbed back\ninto the nest and shut the seven iron doors, and lighted the fire, and\ncooked the food, and gave the dog and the cat some dinner, and took\nsome herself, and went to sleep.\n\nNo sooner had Surya Bai left the Rakshas' hut, than the young Rakshas\nreturned, and his mother said to him, \"Alas, alas, my son, why did not\nyou come sooner? Such a sweet little lamb has been here, and now we\nhave lost her.\" Then she told him all about Surya Bai. \"Which way did\nshe go?\" asked the young Rakshas; \"only tell me that, and I'll have\nher before morning.\"\n\nHis mother told him how she had given Surya Bai the parched corn to\nscatter on the road; and when he heard that, he followed up the track,\nand ran, and ran, and ran, till he came to the foot of the tree.\n\nThere, looking up, he saw the nest high in the branches above them.\n\nQuick as thought, up he climbed, and reached the great outer door;\nand he shook it, and shook it, but he could not get in, for Surya Bai\nhad bolted it. Then he said, \"Let me in, my child, let me in; I'm the\ngreat Eagle, and I have come from very far, and brought you many\nbeautiful jewels; and here is a splendid diamond ring to fit your\nlittle finger.\" But Surya Bai did not hear him--she was fast asleep.\n\nHe next tried to force open the door again, but it was too strong for\nhim. In his efforts, however, he had broken off one of his finger\nnails (now the nail of a Rakshas is most poisonous), which he left\nsticking in the crack of the door when he went away.\n\nNext morning Surya Bai opened all the doors, in order to look down on\nthe world below; but when she came to the seventh door a sharp thing,\nwhich was sticking in it, ran into her hand, and immediately she fell\ndown dead.\n\nAt that same moment the two poor old Eagles returned from their long\ntwelvemonth's journey, bringing a beautiful diamond ring, which they\nhad fetched for their little favorite from the Red Sea.\n\nThere she lay on the threshold of the nest, beautiful as ever, but\ncold and dead.\n\nThe Eagles could not bear the sight; so they placed the ring on her\nfinger, and then, with loud cries, flew off to return no more.\n\nBut a little while after there chanced to come by a great Rajah, who\nwas out on a hunting expedition. He came with hawks, and hounds, and\nattendants, and horses, and pitched his camp under the tree in which\nthe Eagles' nest was built. Then looking up, he saw, amongst the\ntopmost branches, what appeared like a queer little house; and he sent\nsome of his attendants to see what it was. They soon returned, and\ntold the Rajah that up in the tree was a curious thing like a cage,\nhaving seven iron doors, and that on the threshold of the first door\nlay a fair maiden, richly dressed; that she was dead, and that beside\nher stood a little dog and a little cat.\n\nAt this the Rajah commanded that they should be fetched down, and when\nhe saw Surya Bai he felt very sad to think that she was dead. And he\ntook her hand to feel if it were already stiff; but all her limbs were\nsupple, nor had she become cold, as the dead are cold; and, looking\nagain at her hand, the Rajah saw that a sharp thing, like a long\nthorn, had run into the tender palm, almost far enough to pierce\nthrough to the back of her hand.\n\nHe pulled it out, and no sooner had he done so than Surya Bai opened\nher eyes, and stood up, crying, \"Where am I? and who are you? Is it a\ndream, or true?\"\n\nThe Rajah answered, \"It is all true, beautiful lady. I am the Rajah of\na neighboring land; pray tell me who are you?\"\n\nShe replied, \"I am the Eagles' child.\" But he laughed. \"Nay,\" he said,\n\"that cannot be; you are some great Princess.\" \"No,\" she answered, \"I\nam no royal lady; what I say is true. I have lived all my life in this\ntree. I am only the Eagles' child.\"\n\nThen the Rajah said, \"If you are not a Princess born, I will make you\none, say only you will be my Queen.\"\n\nSurya Bai consented, and the Rajah took her to his kingdom and made\nher his Queen. But Surya Bai was not his only wife, and the first\nRanee, his other wife, was both envious and jealous of her.[54]\n\n [54] See Notes at the end.\n\nThe Rajah gave Surya Bai many trustworthy attendants to guard her and\nbe with her; and one old woman loved Surya Bai more than all the rest,\nand used to say to her, \"Don't be too intimate with the first Ranee,\ndear lady, for she wishes you no good, and she has power to do you\nharm. Some day she may poison or otherwise injure you;\" but Surya Bai\nwould answer her, \"Nonsense! what is there to be alarmed about? Why\ncannot we both live happily together like two sisters?\" Then the old\nwoman would rejoin, \"Ah, dear lady, may you never live to rue your\nconfidence! I pray my fears may prove folly.\" So Surya Bai went often\nto see the first Ranee, and the first Ranee also came often to see\nher.\n\nOne day they were standing in the palace courtyard, near a tank, where\nthe Rajah's people used to bathe, and the first Ranee said to Surya\nBai, \"What pretty jewels you have, sister! let me try them on for a\nminute, and see how I look in them.\"\n\nThe old woman was standing beside Surya Bai, and she whispered to her,\n\"Do not lend her your jewels.\" \"Hush, you silly old woman,\" answered\nshe. \"What harm will it do?\" and she gave the Ranee her jewels. Then\nthe Ranee said, \"How pretty all your things are! Do you not think they\nlook well even on me? Let us come down to the tank; it is as clear as\nglass, and we can see ourselves reflected in it, and how these jewels\nwill shine in the clear water!\"\n\nThe old woman, hearing this, was much alarmed, and begged Surya Bai\nnot to venture near the tank, but she said, \"I bid you be silent; I\nwill not distrust my sister,\" and she went down to the tank. Then,\nwhen no one was near, and they were both leaning over, looking at\ntheir reflections in the water, the first Ranee pushed Surya Bai into\nthe tank, who, sinking under water, was drowned; and from the place\nwhere her body fell there sprang up a bright golden sunflower.\n\nThe Rajah shortly afterward inquired where Surya Bai was, but nowhere\ncould she be found. Then, very angry, he came to the first Ranee and\nsaid, \"Tell me where the child is? You have made away with her.\" But\nshe answered, \"You do me wrong; I know nothing of her. Doubtless that\nold woman, whom you allowed to be always with her, has done her some\nharm.\" So the Rajah ordered the poor old woman to be thrown into\nprison.\n\nHe tried to forget Surya Bai and all her pretty ways, but it was no\ngood. Wherever he went he saw her face. Whatever he heard, he still\nlistened for her voice. Every day he grew more miserable; he would not\neat or drink; and as for the other Ranee, he could not bear to speak\nto her. All his people said, \"He will surely die.\"\n\nWhen matters were in this state, the Rajah one day wandered to the\nedge of the tank, and bending over the parapet, looked into the water.\nThen he was surprised to see, growing out of the tank close beside\nhim, a stately golden flower; and as he watched it, the sunflower\ngently bent its head and leaned down toward him. The Rajah's heart was\nsoftened, and he kissed its leaves and murmured, \"This flower reminds\nme of my lost wife. I love it, it is fair and gentle as she used to\nbe.\" And every day he would go down to the tank; and sit and watch the\nflower. When the Ranee heard this, she ordered her servants to go and\ndig the sunflower up, and to take it far into the jungle and burn it.\nNext time the Rajah went to the tank he found his flower gone, and he\nwas much grieved, but none dare say who had done it.\n\nThen, in the jungle, from the place where the ashes of the sunflower\nhad been thrown, there sprang up a young mango tree, tall and\nstraight, that grew so quickly, and became such a beautiful tree, that\nit was the wonder of all the country round. At last, on its topmost\nbough, came one fair blossom; and the blossom fell, and the little\nmango grew rosier and rosier, and larger and larger, till so wonderful\nwas it both for size and shape that people flocked from far and near\nonly to look at it.\n\nBut none ventured to gather it, for it was to be kept for the Rajah\nhimself.\n\nNow one day, the poor Milkwoman, Surya Bai's mother, was returning\nhomeward after her day's work with the empty milk cans, and being very\ntired with her long walk to the bazaar, she lay down under the mango\ntree and fell asleep. Then, right into her largest milk can, fell the\nwonderful mango! When the poor woman awoke and saw what had happened,\nshe was dreadfully frightened, and thought to herself, \"If any one\nsees me with this wonderful fruit, that all the Rajah's great people\nhave been watching for so many, many weeks, they will never believe\nthat I did not steal it, and I shall be put in prison. Yet it is no\ngood leaving it here; besides, it fell off of itself into my milk can.\nI will therefore take it home as secretly as possible, and share it\nwith my children.\"\n\nSo the Milkwoman covered up the can in which the mango was, and took\nit quickly to her home, where she placed it in the corner of the room,\nand put over it a dozen other milk cans, piled one above another.\nThen, as soon as it was dark, she called her husband and eldest son\n(for she had six or seven children), and said to them, \"What good\nfortune do you think has befallen me to-day?\"\n\n\"We cannot guess,\" they said. \"Nothing less,\" she went on, \"than the\nwonderful, wonderful mango falling into one of my milk cans while I\nslept! I have brought it home with me; it is in that lowest can. Go,\nhusband, call all the children to have a slice; and you, my son, take\ndown that pile of cans and fetch me the mango.\" \"Mother,\" he said,\nwhen he got to the lowest can, \"you were joking, I suppose, when you\ntold us there was a mango here.\"\n\n\"No, not at all,\" she answered; \"there is a mango there. I put it\nthere myself an hour ago.\"\n\n\"Well, there's something quite different now,\" replied the son. \"Come\nand see.\"\n\nThe Milkwoman ran to the place, and there, in the lowest can, she saw,\nnot the mango, but a little tiny wee lady, richly dressed in red and\ngold, and no bigger than a mango! On her head shone a bright jewel\nlike a little sun.\n\n\"This is very odd,\" said the mother. \"I never heard of such a thing in\nmy life! But since she has been sent to us, I will take care of her,\nas if she were my own child.\"\n\nEvery day the little lady grew taller and taller, until she was the\nsize of an ordinary woman; she was gentle and lovable, but always sad\nand quiet, and she said her name was \"Surya Bai.\"\n\nThe children were all very curious to know her history, but the\nMilkwoman and her husband would not let her be teased to tell who she\nwas, and said to the children, \"Let us wait. By and by, when she knows\nus better, she will most likely tell us her story of her own accord.\"\n\nNow it came to pass that once, when Surya Bai was taking water from\nthe well for the old Milkwoman, the Rajah rode by, and as he saw her\nwalking along, he cried, \"That is my wife,\" and rode after her as fast\nas possible. Surya Bai hearing a great clatter of horses' hoofs, was\nfrightened, and ran home as fast as possible, and hid herself; and\nwhen the Rajah reached the place there was only the old Milkwoman to\nbe seen standing at the door of her hut.\n\nThen the Rajah said to her, \"Give her up, old woman, you have no right\nto keep her; she is mine, she is mine!\" But the old woman answered,\n\"Are you mad? I don't know what you mean.\"\n\nThe Rajah replied, \"Do not attempt to deceive me. I saw my wife go in\nat your door; she must be in the house.\"\n\n\"Your wife?\" screamed the old woman--\"your wife? you mean my daughter,\nwho lately returned from the well! Do you think I am going to give my\nchild up at your command? You are Rajah in your palace, but I am Rajah\nin my own house; and I won't give up my little daughter for any\nbidding of yours. Be off with you, or I'll pull out your beard.\" And\nso saying, she seized a long stick and attacked the Rajah, calling out\nloudly to her husband and sons, who came running to her aid.\n\nThe Rajah, seeing matters were against him, and having outridden his\nattendants (and not being quite certain moreover whether he had seen\nSurya Bai, or whether she might not have been really the poor\nMilkwoman's daughter), rode off and returned to his palace.\n\nHowever, he determined to sift the matter. As a first step he went to\nsee Surya Bai's old attendant, who was still in prison. From her he\nlearnt enough to make him believe she was not only entirely innocent\nof Surya Bai's death, but gravely to suspect the first Ranee of having\ncaused it. He therefore ordered the old woman to be set at liberty,\nstill keeping a watchful eye on her, and bade her prove her devotion\nto her long-lost mistress by going to the Milkwoman's house, and\nbringing him as much information as possible about the family, and\nmore particularly about the girl he had seen returning from the well.\n\nSo the attendant went to the Milkwoman's house, and made friends with\nher, and bought some milk, and afterward she stayed and talked to her.\n\nAfter a few days the Milkwoman ceased to be suspicious of her, and\nbecame quite cordial.\n\nSurya Bai's attendant then told how she had been the late Ranee's\nwaiting-woman, and how the Rajah had thrown her into prison on her\nmistress's death; in return for which intelligence the old Milkwoman\nimparted to her how the wonderful mango had tumbled into her can as\nshe slept under the tree, and how it had miraculously changed in the\ncourse of an hour into a beautiful little lady. \"I wonder why she\nshould have chosen my poor house to live in, instead of any one\nelse's,\" said the old woman.\n\nThen Surya Bai's attendant said, \"Have you ever asked her her history?\nPerhaps she would not mind telling it to you now.\"\n\nSo the Milkwoman called the girl, and as soon as the old attendant\nsaw her, she knew it was none other than Surya Bai, and her heart\njumped for joy; but she remained silent, wondering much, for she knew\nher mistress had been drowned in the tank.\n\nThe old Milkwoman turned to Surya Bai and said, \"My child, you have\nlived long with us, and been a good daughter to me; but I have never\nasked you your history, because I thought it must be a sad one; but if\nyou do not fear to tell it to me now, I should like to hear it.\"\n\nSurya Bai answered, \"Mother, you speak true; my story is sad. I\nbelieve my real mother was a poor Milkwoman like you, and that she\ntook me with her one day when I was quite a little baby, as she was\ngoing to sell milk in the bazaar. But being tired with the long walk,\nshe sat down to rest, and placed me also on the ground, when suddenly\na great Eagle flew down and carried me away. But all the father and\nmother I ever knew were the two great Eagles.\"\n\n\"Ah, my child! my child!\" cried the Milkwoman, \"I was that poor woman;\nthe Eagles flew away with my eldest girl when she was only a year old.\nHave I found you after these many years?\"\n\nAnd she ran and called all her children, and her husband, to tell them\nthe wonderful news.\n\nThen was there great rejoicing among them all.\n\nWhen they were a little calmer, her mother said to Surya Bai, \"Tell\nus, dear daughter, how your life has been spent since first we lost\nyou.\" And Surya Bai went on:\n\n\"The old Eagles took me away to their home, and there I lived happily\nmany years. They loved to bring me all the beautiful things they\ncould find, and at last one day they both went to fetch me a diamond\nring from the Red Sea; but while they were gone the fire went out in\nthe nest: so I went to an old woman's hut, and got her to give me some\nfire; and next day (I don't know how it was), as I was opening the\nouter door of the cage, a sharp thing, that was sticking in it, ran\ninto my hand and I fell down senseless.\n\n\"I don't know how long I lay there, but when I came to myself, I found\nthe Eagles must have come back, and thought me dead, and gone away,\nfor the diamond ring was on my little finger; a great many people were\nwatching over me, and amongst them was a Rajah, who asked me to go\nhome with him and be his wife, and he brought me to this place, and I\nwas his Ranee.\n\n\"But his other wife, the first Ranee, hated me (for she was jealous),\nand desired to kill me; and one day she accomplished her purpose by\npushing me into the tank, for I was young and foolish, and disregarded\nthe warnings of my faithful old attendant, who begged me not to go\nnear the place. Ah! if I had only listened to her words I might have\nbeen happy still.\"\n\nAt these words the old attendant, who had been sitting in the back\nground, rushed forward and kissed Surya Bai's feet, crying, \"Ah, my\nlady! my lady! have I found you at last!\" and, without staying to hear\nmore, she ran back to the palace to tell the Rajah the glad news.\n\nThen Surya Bai told her parents how she had not wholly died in the\ntank, but became a sunflower; and how the first Ranee, seeing how fond\nthe Rajah was of the plant, had caused it to be thrown away; and then\nhow she had risen from the ashes of the sunflower, in the form of a\nmango tree; and how when the tree blossomed all her spirit went into\nthe little mango flower, and she ended by saying: \"And when the flower\nbecame fruit, I know not by what irresistible impulse I was induced to\nthrow myself into your milk can. Mother, it was my destiny, and as\nsoon as you took me into your house, I began to recover my human\nform.\"\n\n\"Why, then,\" asked her brothers and sisters, \"why do you not tell the\nRajah that you are living, and that you are the Ranee Surya Bai?\"\n\n\"Alas,\" she answered, \"I could not do that. Who knows but that he may\nbe influenced by the first Ranee, and also desire my death. Let me\nrather be poor like you, but safe from danger.\"\n\nThen her mother cried, \"Oh, what a stupid woman I am! The Rajah one\nday came seeking you here, but I and your father and brothers drove\nhim away, for we did not know you were indeed the lost Ranee.\"\n\nAs she spoke these words a sound of horses' hoofs was heard in the\ndistance, and the Rajah himself appeared, having heard the good news\nof Surya Bai's being alive from her old attendant.\n\nIt is impossible to tell the joy of the Rajah at finding his long-lost\nwife, but it was not greater than Surya Bai's at being restored to her\nhusband.\n\nThen the Rajah turned to the old Milkwoman and said, \"Old woman, you\ndid not tell me true, for it was indeed my wife who was in your hut.\"\n\"Yes, Protector of the Poor,\" answered the old Milkwoman, \"but it was\nalso my daughter.\" Then they told him how Surya Bai was the\nMilkwoman's child.\n\nAt hearing this the Rajah commanded them all to return with him to\nthe palace. He gave Surya Bai's father a village, and ennobled the\nfamily; and he said to Surya Bai's old attendant, \"For the good\nservice you have done you shall be palace housekeeper,\" and he gave\nher great riches; adding, \"I can never repay the debt I owe you, nor\nmake you sufficient recompense for having caused you to be unjustly\ncast into prison.\" But she replied, \"Sire, even in your anger you were\ntemperate; if you had caused me to be put to death, as some would have\ndone, none of this good might have come upon you; it is yourself you\nhave to thank.\"\n\nThe wicked first Ranee was cast, for the rest of her life, into the\nprison in which the old attendant had been thrown; but Surya Bai lived\nhappily with her husband the rest of her days; and in memory of her\nadventures, he planted round their palace a hedge of sunflowers and a\ngrove of mango trees.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nVII.\n\n_THE WANDERINGS OF VICRAM MAHARAJAH._\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a Rajah named Vicram Maharajah,[55] who had\na Wuzeer named Butti.[56] Both the Rajah and his minister were left\norphans when very young, and ever since their parents' death they had\nlived together: they were educated together, and they loved each other\ntenderly--like brothers.\n\n [55] The great King Vicram.\n\n [56] Light.\n\nBoth were good and kind--no poor man coming to the Rajah was ever\nknown to have been sent away disappointed, for it was his delight to\ngive food and clothes to those in need. But whilst the Wuzeer had much\njudgment and discretion, as well as a brilliant fancy, the Rajah was\ntoo apt to allow his imagination to run away with his reason.\n\nUnder their united rule, however, the kingdom prospered greatly. The\nRajah was the spur of every noble work, and the Wuzeer the curb to\nevery rash or impracticable project.\n\nIn a country some way from Rajah Vicram's there lived a little Queen,\ncalled Anar Ranee (the Pomegranate Queen). Her father and mother\nreigned over the Pomegranate country, and for her they had made a\nbeautiful garden. In the middle of the garden was a lovely pomegranate\ntree, bearing three large pomegranates. They opened in the centre,\nand in each was a little bed. In one of them Anar Ranee used to sleep,\nand in the pomegranates on either side slept two of her maids.\n\nEvery morning early the pomegranate tree would gently bend its\nbranches to the ground, and the fruit would open, and Anar Ranee and\nher attendants creep out to play under the shadow of the cool tree\nuntil the evening; and each evening the tree again bent down to enable\nthem to get into their tiny, snug bed-rooms.\n\nMany princes wished to marry Anar Ranee, for she was said to be the\nfairest lady upon earth: her hair was black as a raven's wing, her\neyes like the eyes of a gazelle, her teeth two rows of exquisite\npearls, and her cheeks the color of the rosy pomegranate. But her\nfather and mother had caused her garden to be hedged around with seven\nhedges made of bayonets, so that none could go in or out; and they had\npublished a decree that none should marry her but he who could enter\nthe garden and gather the three pomegranates, in which she and her two\nmaids slept. To do this, kings, princes and nobles innumerable had\nstriven, but striven in vain.\n\nSome never got past the first sharp hedge of bayonets; others, more\nfortunate, surmounted the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, or\neven the sixth; but there perished miserably, being unable to climb\nthe seventh. None had ever succeeded in entering the garden.\n\nBefore Vicram Maharajah's father and mother died, they had built, some\nway from their palace, a very beautiful temple. It was of marble, and\nin the centre stood an idol made of pure gold. But in course of time\nthe jungle had grown up round it, and thick straggling plants of\nprickly pear had covered it, so that it was difficult even to find out\nwhereabouts it was.\n\nThen, one day, the Wuzeer Butti said to Vicram Maharajah, \"The temple\nyour father and mother built at so much pains and cost is almost lost\nin the jungle, and will probably ere long be in ruins. It would be a\npious work to find it out and restore it.\" Vicram Maharajah agreed,\nand immediately sent for many workmen, and caused the jungle to be cut\ndown and the temple restored. All were much astonished to find what a\nbeautiful place it was! The floor was white marble, the walls\nexquisitely carved in bas-reliefs and gorgeously colored, while all\nover the ceiling was painted Vicram Maharajah's father's name, and in\nthe centre was a golden image of Gunputti, to whom it was dedicated.\n\nThe Rajah Vicram was so pleased with the beauty of the place that on\nthat account, as well as because of its sanctity, he and Butti used to\ngo and sleep there every night.\n\nOne night Vicram had a wonderful dream. He dreamed his father appeared\nto him and said, \"Arise, Vicram, go to the tower for lights[57] which\nis in front of this temple.\"\n\n [57] See Notes at the end.\n\n(For there was in front of the temple a beautiful tower or pyramid for\nlights, and all the way up it were projections on which to place\ncandles on days dedicated to the idol; so that when the whole was\nlighted it looked like a gigantic candlestick, and to guard it there\nwere around it seven hedges made of bayonets.)\n\n\"Arise, Vicram, therefore,\" said the vision; \"go to the tower for\nlights; below it is a vast amount of treasure, but you can only get it\nin one way without incurring the anger of Gunputti. You must first do\nin his honor an act of very great devotion, which if he graciously\napprove, and consent to preserve your life therein, you may with\nsafety remove the treasure.\"\n\n\"And what is this act of devotion?\" asked Vicram Maharajah.\n\n\"It is this,\" (he thought his father answered): \"You must fasten a\nrope to the top of the tower, and to the other end of the rope attach\na basket, into which you must get head downward, then twist the rope\nby which the basket is hung three times, and as it is untwisting, cut\nit, when you will fall head downward to the earth.\n\n\"If you fall on either of the hedges of bayonets, you will be\ninstantly killed; but Gunputti is merciful--do not fear that he will\nallow you to be slain. If you escape unhurt, you will know that he has\naccepted your pious act, and may without danger take the\ntreasure.\"[58]\n\n [58] See Notes at the end.\n\nThe vision faded; Vicram saw no more, and shortly afterward he awoke.\n\nThen, turning to the Wuzeer, he said, \"Butti, I had a strange dream. I\ndreamed my father counseled me to do an act of great devotion; nothing\nless than fastening a basket by a rope to the top of the tower for\nlights, and getting into it head downward, then cutting the rope and\nallowing myself to fall; by which having propitiated the divinity, he\npromised me a vast treasure, to be found by digging under the tower!\nWhat do you think I had better do?\"\n\n\"My advice,\" answered the Wuzeer, \"is, if you care to seek the\ntreasure, to do entirely as your father commanded, trusting in the\nmercy of Gunputti.\"\n\nSo the Rajah caused a basket to be fastened by a rope to the top of\nthe tower, and got into it head downward; then he called out to Butti,\n\"How can I cut the rope?\" \"Nothing is easier,\" answered he; \"take this\nsword in your hand. I will twist the rope three times, and as it\nuntwists for the first time let the sword fall upon it.\" Vicram\nMaharajah took the sword, and Butti twisted the rope, and as it first\nbegan to untwist, the Rajah cut it, and the basket immediately fell.\nIt would have certainly gone down among the bayonets, and he been\ninstantly killed, had not Gunputti, seeing the danger of his devotee,\nrushed out of the temple at that moment in the form of an old woman,\nwho, catching the basket in her arms before it touched the bayonets,\nbrought it gently and safely to the ground; having done which she\ninstantly returned into the temple. None of the spectators knew she\nwas Gunputti himself in disguise; they only thought \"What a clever old\nwoman!\"\n\nVicram Maharajah then caused excavations to be made below the tower,\nunder which he found an immense amount of treasure. There were\nmountains of gold, there were diamonds, and rubies, and sapphires, and\nemeralds, and turquoises, and pearls; but he took none of them,\ncausing all to be sold and the money given to the poor, so little did\nhe care for the riches for which some men sell their bodies and souls.\n\nAnother day, the Rajah, when in the temple, dreamed again. Again his\nfather appeared to him, and this time he said, \"Vicram, come daily to\nthis temple and Gunputti will teach you wisdom, and you shall get\nunderstanding. You may get learning in the world, but wisdom is the\nfruit of much learning and much experience, and much love to God and\nman; wherefore, come, acquire wisdom, for learning perishes, but\nwisdom never dies.\" When the Rajah awoke, he told his dream to the\nWuzeer, and Butti recommended him to obey his father's counsel, which\nhe accordingly did.\n\nDaily he resorted to the temple and was instructed by Gunputti; and\nwhen he had learnt much, one day Gunputti said to him, \"I have given\nyou as much wisdom as is in keeping with man's finite comprehension;\nnow, as a parting gift, ask of me what you will and it shall be\nyours--or riches, or power, or beauty, or long life, or health, or\nhappiness--choose what you will have?\" The Rajah was very much\npuzzled, and he begged leave to be allowed a day to think over the\nmatter, and decide what he would choose, to which Gunputti assented.\n\nNow it happened that near the palace there lived the son of a\nCarpenter, who was very cunning, and when he heard that the Rajah went\nto the temple to learn wisdom, he also determined to go and see if he\ncould not learn it also; and each day, when Gunputti gave Vicram\nMaharajah instruction, the Carpenter's son would hide close behind the\ntemple, and overhear all their conversation; so that he also became\nvery wise. No sooner, therefore, did he hear Gunputti's offer to\nVicram than he determined to return again when the Rajah did, and find\nout in what way he was to procure the promised gift, whatever it was.\n\nThe Rajah consulted Butti as to what he should ask for, saying, \"I\nhave riches more than enough; I have also sufficient power, and for\nthe rest I had sooner take my chance with other men, which makes me\nmuch at a loss to know what to choose.\"\n\nThe Wuzeer answered, \"Is there any supernatural power you at all\ndesire to possess? If so, ask for that.\" \"Yes,\" replied the Rajah, \"it\nhas always been a great desire of mine to have power to leave my own\nbody when I will, and translate my soul and sense into some other\nbody, either of man or animal. I would rather be able to do that than\nanything else.\" \"Then,\" said the Wuzeer, \"ask Gunputti to give you the\npower.\"\n\nNext morning the Rajah, having bathed and prayed, went in great state\nto the temple to have his final interview with the idol. And the\nCarpenter's son went too, in order to overhear it.\n\nThen Gunputti said to the Rajah, \"Vicram, what gift do you choose?\"\n\"Oh, divine Power,\" answered the Rajah, \"you have already given me a\nsufficiency of wealth and power, in making me Rajah; neither care I\nfor more of beauty than I now possess; and of long life, health and\nhappiness I had rather take my share with other men. But there is a\npower which I would rather own than all that you have offered.\"\n\n\"Name it, O good son of a good father,\" said Gunputti.\n\n\"Most Wise,\" replied Vicram, \"give me the power to leave my own body\nwhen I will, and translate my soul, and sense, and thinking powers\ninto any other body that I may choose, either of man, or bird, or\nbeast--whether for a day, or a year, or for twelve years, or as long\nas I like; grant also, that however long the term of my absence, my\nbody may not decay, but that, when I please to return to it again, I\nmay find it still as when I left it.\"\n\n\"Vicram,\" answered Gunputti, \"your prayer is heard,\" and he\ninstructed Vicram Maharajah by what means he should translate his soul\ninto another body, and also gave him something which, being placed\nwithin his own body when he left it, would preserve it from decay\nuntil his return.[59]\n\n [59] See Notes at the end.\n\nThe Carpenter's son, who had been all this time listening outside the\ntemple, heard and learnt the spell whereby Gunputti gave Vicram\nMaharajah power to enter into any other body; but he could not see nor\nfind out what was given to the Rajah to place within his own body when\nhe left it, to preserve it; so that he was only master of half the\nsecret.\n\nVicram Maharajah returned home, and told the Wuzeer that he was\npossessed of the much-desired secret. \"Then,\" said Butti, \"the best\nuse you can put it to is to fly to the Pomegranate country, and bring\nAnar Ranee here.\"\n\n\"How can that be done?\" asked the Rajah. \"Thus,\" replied Butti;\n\"transport yourself into the body of a parrot, in which shape you will\nbe able to fly over the seven hedges of bayonets that surround her\ngarden. Go to the tree in the centre of it, bite off the stalks of the\npomegranates and bring them home in your beak.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the Rajah, and he picked up a parrot which lay dead\non the ground, and placing within his own body the beauty-preserving\ncharm, transported his soul into the parrot, and flew off.\n\nOn, on, on he went, over the hills and far away, until he came to the\ngarden. Then he flew over the seven hedges of bayonets, and with his\nbeak broke off the three pomegranates (in which were Anar Ranee and\nher two ladies), and holding them by the stalks brought them safely\nhome. He then immediately left the parrot's body and re-entered his\nown body.\n\nWhen Butti saw how well he had accomplished the feat, he said, \"Thank\nheaven! there's some good done already.\" All who saw Anar Ranee were\nastonished at her beauty, for she was fair as a lotus flower, and the\ncolor on her cheeks was like the deep rich color of a pomegranate, and\nall thought the Rajah very wise to have chosen such a wife.\n\nThey had a magnificent wedding, and were for a short time as happy as\nthe day is long.\n\nBut within a little while Vicram Maharajah said to Butti, \"I have\nagain a great desire to see the world.\" \"What!\" said Butti, \"so soon\nagain to leave your home! So soon to care to go away from your young\nwife!\"\n\n\"I love her and my people dearly,\" answered the Rajah; \"but I cannot\nbut feel that I have this supernatural power of taking any form I\nplease, and longing to use it.\" \"Where and how will you go?\" asked the\nWuzeer. \"Let it be the day after to-morrow,\" answered Vicram\nMaharajah. \"I shall again take the form of a parrot, and see as much\nof the world as possible.\"\n\nSo it was settled that the Rajah should go. He left his kingdom in the\nWuzeer's sole charge, and also his wife, saying to her, \"I don't know\nfor how long I may be away; perhaps a day, perhaps a year, perhaps\nmore. But if, while I am gone, you should be in any difficulty, apply\nto the Wuzeer. He has ever been like an elder brother or a father to\nme; do you therefore also regard him as a father. I have charged him\nto take care of you as he would of his own child.\"\n\nHaving said these words, the Rajah caused a beautiful parrot to be\nshot (it was a very handsome bird, with a tuft of bright feathers on\nits head and a ring about its neck). He then cut a small incision in\nhis arm and rubbed into it some of the magic preservative given him by\nGunputti to keep his body from decaying, and transporting his soul\ninto the parrot's body, he flew away.\n\nNo sooner did the Carpenter's son hear that the Rajah was as dead,\nthan, knowing the power of which Vicram Maharajah and he were alike\npossessed, he felt certain that the former had made use of it, and\ndetermined himself likewise to turn it to account. Therefore, directly\nthe Rajah entered the parrot's body, the Carpenter's son entered the\nRajah's body, and the world at large imagined that the Rajah had only\nswooned and recovered. But the Wuzeer was wiser than they, and\nimmediately thought to himself, \"Some one beside Vicram Maharajah must\nhave become acquainted with this spell, and be now making use of it,\nthinking it would be very amusing to play the part of Rajah for a\nwhile; but I'll soon discover if this be the case or no.\"\n\nSo he called Anar Ranee and said to her, \"You are as well assured as I\nam that your husband left us but now, in the form of a parrot; but\nscarcely had he gone before his deserted body arose, and he now\nappears walking about, and talking, and as much alive as ever;\nnevertheless, my opinion is, that the spirit animating the body is not\nthe spirit of the Rajah, but that some one else is possessed of the\npower given to him by Gunputti, and has taken advantage of it to\npersonate him. But this it would be better to put to the proof. Do,\ntherefore, as I tell you, that you may be assured of the truth of my\nwords. Make to-day for your husband's dinner some very coarse and\ncommon currie, and give it to him. If he complains that it is not as\ngood as usual, I am making a mistake; but if, on the contrary, he says\nnothing about it, you will know that my words are true, and that he is\nnot Vicram Maharajah.\"\n\nAnar Ranee did as the Wuzeer advised, and afterward came to him and\nsaid, \"Father\" (for so she always called him), \"I have been much\nastonished at the result of the trial. I made the currie very\ncarelessly, and it was as coarse and common as possible; but the Rajah\ndid not even complain. I feel convinced it is as you say; but what can\nwe do?\"\n\n\"We will not,\" answered the Wuzeer, \"cast him into prison, since he\ninhabits your husband's body; but neither you, nor any of the Rajah's\nrelations, must have any friendship with, or so much as speak to him;\nand if he speak to any of you, let whoever it be, immediately begin to\nquarrel with him, whereby he will find the life of a rajah not so\nagreeable as he anticipated, and may be induced the sooner to return\nto his proper form.\"\n\nAnar Ranee instructed all her husband's relations and friends as Butti\nhad advised, and the Carpenter's son began to think the life of a\nrajah not at all as pleasant as he had fancied, and would, if he\ncould, have gladly returned to his own body again; but, having no\npower to preserve it, his spirit had no sooner left it than it began\nto decay, and at the end of three days it was quite destroyed; so that\nthe unhappy man had no alternative but to remain where he was.\n\nMeantime, the real Vicram Maharajah had flown, in the form of a\nparrot, very far, far away, until he reached a large banyan tree,\nwhere there were a thousand other pretty pollies, whom he joined,\nmaking their number a thousand and one. Every day the parrots flew\naway to get food, and every night they returned to roost in the great\nbanyan tree.\n\nNow it chanced that a hunter had often gone through that part of the\njungle, and noticed the banyan tree and the parrots, and he said to\nhimself, \"If I could only catch the thousand and one parrots that\nnightly roost in that tree, I should not be so often hungry as I am\nnow, for they would make plenty of very nice currie.\" But he could not\ndo it, though he often tried; for the trunks of the tree were tall and\nstraight, and very slippery, so that he no sooner climbed up a little\nway than he slid down again: however, he did not cease to look and\nlong.\n\nOne day, a heavy shower of rain drove all the parrots back earlier\nthan usual to their tree, and when they got there they found a\nthousand crows who had come on their homeward flight to shelter\nthemselves there till the storm was over.\n\nThen Vicram Maharajah Parrot said to the other parrots, \"Do you not\nsee these crows have all sorts of seeds and fruits in their beaks,\nwhich they are carrying home to their little ones? Let us quickly\ndrive them away, lest some of these fall down under our tree, which,\nbeing sown there, will spring up strong plants and twine round the\ntrunks, and enable our enemy the hunter to climb up with ease and kill\nus all.\"\n\nBut the other parrots answered, \"That is a very far-fetched idea! Do\nnot let us hunt the poor birds away from shelter in this pouring\nrain, they will get so wet.\" So the crows were not molested. It turned\nout, however, just as Vicram Maharajah had foretold; for some of the\nfruits and seeds they were taking home to their young ones fell under\nthe tree, and the seeds took root and sprang up, strong creeping\nplants, which twined all round the straight trunks of the banyan tree,\nand made it very easy to climb.\n\nNext time the hunter came by he noticed this, and saying, \"Ah, my fine\nfriends, I've got you at last,\" he, by the help of the creepers,\nclimbed the tree, and set one thousand and one snares of fine thread\namong the branches; having done which he went away.\n\nThat night, when the parrots flew down on the branches as usual, they\nfound themselves all caught fast prisoners by the feet.\n\n\"Crick! crick! crick!\" cried they, \"crick! crick! crick! Oh dear! oh\ndear! what shall we do? what can we do? Oh, Vicram Maharajah, you were\nright and we were wrong. Oh dear! oh dear! crick! crick! crick!\"\n\nThen Vicram said, \"Did I not tell you how it would be? But do as I bid\nyou, and we may yet be saved. So soon as the hunter comes to take us\naway, let every one hang his head down on one side, as if he were\ndead; then, thinking us dead, he will not trouble himself to wring our\nnecks, or stick the heads of those he wishes to keep alive through his\nbelt, as he otherwise would; but will merely release us, and throw us\non the ground. Let each one when there, remain perfectly still, till\nthe whole thousand and one are set free, and the hunter begins to\ndescend the tree; then we will all fly up over his head and far out of\nsight.\"\n\nThe parrots agreed to do as Vicram Maharajah Parrot proposed, and\nwhen the hunter came next morning to take them away, every one had his\neyes shut and his head hanging down on one side, as if he were dead.\nThen the hunter said, \"All dead, indeed! Then I shall have plenty of\nnice currie.\" And so saying, he cut the noose that held the first, and\nthrew him down. The parrot fell like a stone to the ground, so did the\nsecond, the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, the\neighth, the ninth, the tenth, and so on--up to the thousandth parrot.\nNow the thousandth and first chanced to be none other than Vicram; all\nwere released but he. But, just as the hunter was going to cut the\nnoose round his feet, he let his knife fall, and had to go down and\npick it up again. When the thousand parrots who were on the ground,\nheard him coming down, they thought, \"The thousand and one are all\nreleased, and here comes the hunter; it is time for us to be off.\" And\nwith one accord they flew up into the air and far out of sight,\nleaving poor Vicram Maharajah still a prisoner.\n\nThe hunter, seeing what had happened, was very angry, and seizing\nVicram, said to him, \"You wretched bird! it's you that have worked all\nthis mischief. I know it must be, for you are a stranger here, and\ndifferent to the other parrots. I'll strangle you, at all events--that\nI will.\" But to his surprise, the parrot answered him, \"Do not kill\nme. What good will that do you? Rather sell me in the next town. I am\nvery handsome. You will get a thousand gold mohurs[60] for me.\"\n\n [60] About $7,500.\n\n\"A thousand gold mohurs!\" answered the hunter, much astonished. \"You\nsilly bird, who'd be so foolish as to give a thousand gold mohurs for\na parrot?\" \"Never mind,\" said Vicram, \"only take me and try.\"\n\nSo the hunter took him into the town, crying \"Who'll buy? who'll buy?\nCome buy this pretty polly that can talk so nicely. See how handsome\nhe is--see what a great red ring he has round his neck. Who'll buy?\nwho'll buy?\"\n\nThen several people asked how much he would take for the parrot; but\nwhen he said a thousand gold mohurs, they all laughed and went away,\nsaying \"None but a fool would give so much for a bird.\"\n\nAt last the hunter got angry, and he said to Vicram, \"I told you how\nit would be. I shall never be able to sell you.\" But he answered, \"Oh\nyes, you will. See here comes a merchant down this way; I dare say he\nwill buy me.\" So the hunter went to the merchant and said to him,\n\"Pray, sir, buy my pretty parrot.\" \"How much do you want for him?\"\nasked the merchant--\"two rupees?\"[61] \"No, sir,\" answered the hunter;\n\"I cannot part with him for less than a thousand gold mohurs.\" \"A\nthousand gold mohurs!\" cried the merchant, \"a thousand gold mohurs! I\nnever heard of such a thing in my life! A thousand gold mohurs for one\nlittle wee polly! Why, with that sum you might buy a house, or\ngardens, or horses, or ten thousand yards of the best cloth. Who's\ngoing to give you such a sum for a parrot? Not I, indeed. I'll give\nyou two rupees and no more.\" But Vicram called out, \"Merchant,\nmerchant, do not fear to buy me. I am Vicram Maharajah Parrot. Pay\nwhat the hunter asks, and I will repay it to you--buy me only, and I\nwill keep your shop.\"\n\n [61] About $1.\n\n\"Polly,\" answered the merchant, \"what nonsense you talk!\" But he took\na fancy to the bird, and paid the hunter a thousand gold mohurs, and\ntaking Vicram Maharajah home, hung him up in his shop.\n\nThen the Parrot took on him the duties of shopman, and talked so much\nand so wisely that every one in the town soon heard of the merchant's\nwonderful bird. Nobody cared to go to any other shop--all came to his\nshop, only to hear the Parrot talk; and he sold them what they wanted,\nand they did not care how much he charged for what he sold, but gave\nhim whatever he asked; insomuch, that in one week the merchant had\nmade a thousand gold mohurs over and above his usual weekly profits;\nand there Vicram Maharajah Parrot lived for a long time, made much of\nby everybody, and very happy.\n\nIt happened in the town where the merchant lived there was a very\naccomplished Nautch girl,[62] named Champa Ranee.[63] She danced so\nbeautifully that the people of the town used always to send for her to\ndance on the occasion of any great festival.\n\n [62] Dancing girl.\n\n [63] The Champa Queen. \"The Champa\" (_Michelia champaca_) is a\n beautiful, sweet-scented yellow flower.\n\nThere also lived in the town a poor wood-cutter, who earned his living\nby going out far into the jungle to cut wood, and bringing it in every\nday, into the bazaar to sell.\n\nOne day he went out as usual into the jungle to cut wood, and being\ntired, he fell asleep under a tree and began to dream; and he dreamed\nthat he was a very rich man, and that he married the beautiful Nautch\ngirl, and that he took her home to his house, and gave his wife, as a\nwedding present, a thousand gold mohurs!\n\nWhen he went into the bazaar that evening as usual to sell wood, he\nbegan telling his dream to his friends, saying, \"While I was in the\njungle I had such an absurd dream; I dreamed that I was a rich man,\nand that I married the Champa Ranee, and gave her as a wedding present\na thousand gold mohurs!\" \"What a funny dream!\" they cried, and thought\nno more of it.\n\nBut it happened that the house under which he was standing whilst\ntalking to his friends was Champa Ranee's house, and Champa Ranee\nherself was near the window, and heard what he said, and thought to\nherself, \"For all that man looks so poor, he has then a thousand gold\nmohurs, or he would not have dreamed of giving them to his wife; if\nthat is all, I'll go to law about it, and see if I can't get the\nmoney.\"\n\nSo she sent out her servants and ordered them to catch the poor\nwood-cutter; and when they caught him, she began crying out, \"Oh\nhusband! husband! here have I been waiting ever so long, wondering\nwhat has become of you; where have you been all this time?\" He\nanswered, \"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. You're a great lady\nand I'm a poor wood-cutter; you must mistake me for somebody else.\"\n\nBut she answered, \"Oh no! don't you remember we were married on such\nand such a day! Have you forgotten what a grand wedding it was, and\nyou took me home to your palace, and promised to give me as a wedding\npresent a thousand gold mohurs? But you quite forgot to give me the\nmoney, and you went away, and I returned to my father's house till I\ncould learn tidings of you; how can you be so cruel?\"\n\nThe poor wood-cutter thought he must be dreaming, but all Champa\nRanee's friends and relations declared that what she said was true.\nThen, after much quarreling, they said they would go to law about it;\nbut the judge could not settle the matter, and referred it to the\nRajah himself. The Rajah was no less puzzled than the judge. The\nwood-cutter protested that he was only a poor wood-cutter; but Champa\nRanee and her friends asserted that he was, on the contrary, a rich\nman, her husband, and had had much money, which he must have\nsquandered. She offered, however, to give up all claim to that, if he\nwould only give her a thousand gold mohurs, which he had promised; and\nso suggested a compromise. The wood-cutter replied that he would\ngladly give the gold mohurs if he had them; but that (as he brought\nwitnesses to prove) he was really and truly what he professed to\nbe--only a poor wood-cutter, who earned two annas[64] a day cutting\nwood, and had neither palace nor riches nor wife in the world! The\nwhole city was interested in this curious case, and all wondered how\nit would end; some being sure one side was right, and some equally\ncertain of the other.\n\n [64] Six cents.\n\nThe Rajah could make nothing of the matter, and at last he said: \"I\nhear there is a merchant in this town who has a very wise parrot,\nwiser than most men are; let him be sent for to decide this business,\nfor it is beyond me; we will abide by his decision.\"\n\nSo Vicram Maharajah Parrot was sent for, and placed in the court of\njustice, to hear and judge the case.\n\nFirst he said to the wood-cutter, \"Tell me your version of the story.\"\nAnd the wood-cutter answered, \"Polly, Sahib, what I tell is true. I am\na poor man. I live in the jungle, and earn my living by cutting wood\nand selling it in the bazaar. I never get more than two annas a day.\nOne day I fell asleep and dreamed a silly dream--how I had become rich\nand married the Champa Ranee, and had given her as a wedding present a\nthousand gold mohurs; but it is no more true that I owed her a\nthousand gold mohurs, or have them to pay, than that I married her.\"\n\n\"That is enough,\" said Vicram Maharajah. \"Now, dancing girl, tell us\nyour story.\" And Champa Ranee gave her version of the matter. Then the\nParrot said to her, \"Tell me now where was the house of this husband\nof yours, to which he took you?\" \"Oh!\" she answered; \"very far away, I\ndon't know how far, in the jungles.\" \"How long ago was it?\" asked he.\n\"At such and such a time,\" she replied. Then he called credible and\ntrustworthy witnesses, who proved that Champa Ranee had never left the\ncity at the time she mentioned. After hearing whom, the Parrot said to\nher, \"Is it possible that you can have the folly to think any one\nwould believe that you would leave your rich and costly home to go a\nlong journey into the jungle? It is now satisfactorily proved that you\ndid not do it; you had better give up all claim to the thousand gold\nmohurs.\"\n\nBut this the Nautch girl would not do. The Parrot then called for a\nmoney-lender, and begged of him the loan of a thousand gold mohurs,\nwhich he placed in a great bottle, putting the stopper in, and\nsealing it securely down; he then gave it to the Nautch girl, and\nsaid, \"Get this money if you can, without breaking the seal or\nbreaking the bottle.\" She answered, \"It cannot be done.\" \"No more,\"\nreplied Vicram Maharajah, \"can what you desire be done. You cannot\nforce a poor man, who has no money in the world, to pay you a thousand\ngold mohurs.\n\n\"Let the prisoner go free! Begone, Champa Ranee. Dancing girl! you are\na liar and a thief; go rob the rich if you will, but meddle no more\nwith the poor.\"\n\nAll applauded Vicram Maharajah Parrot's decision, and said, \"Was ever\nsuch a wonderful bird!\" But Champa Ranee was extremely angry, and said\nto him, \"Very well, nasty polly; nasty, stupid polly! be assured\nbefore long I will get you in my power, and when I do, I will bite off\nyour head!\"\n\n\"Try your worst, madam,\" answered Vicram; \"but in return, I tell you\nthis--I will live to make you a beggar. Your house shall be, by your\nown order, laid even with the ground, and you for grief and rage shall\nkill yourself.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" said Champa Ranee; \"we will soon see whose words come\ntrue--mine or yours;\" and so saying, she returned home.\n\nThe merchant took Vicram Maharajah back to his shop, and a week passed\nwithout adventure; a fortnight passed, but still nothing particular\nhappened. At the end of this time the merchant's eldest son was\nmarried, and in honor of the occasion, the merchant ordered that a\nclever dancing-girl should be sent for, to dance before the guests.\nChampa Ranee came, and danced so beautifully that every one was\ndelighted; and the merchant was much pleased, and said to her, \"You\nhave done your work very well, and in payment you may choose what you\nlike out of my shop or house, and it shall be yours--whether jewels or\nrich cloth, or whatever it is.\"\n\nShe replied, \"I desire nothing of the kind: of jewels and rich stuffs\nI have more than enough, but you shall give me your pretty little\nparrot; I like it much, and that is the only payment I will take.\"\n\nThe merchant felt very much vexed, for he had never thought the Nautch\ngirl would ask for the parrot which he was so fond of, and which had\nbeen so profitable to him; he felt he would rather have parted with\nanything he possessed than that; nevertheless, having promised, he was\nbound to keep his word, so, with many tears, he went to fetch his\nfavorite. But Polly cried, \"Don't be vexed, master; give me to the\ngirl; I can take good care of myself.\"\n\nSo Champa Ranee took Vicram Maharajah Parrot home with her; and no\nsooner did she get there than she sent for one of her maids, and said,\n\"Quick, take this parrot and boil him for my supper; but first cut off\nhis head and bring it to me on a plate, grilled; for I will eat it\nbefore tasting any other dish.\"\n\n\"What nonsensical idea is this of our mistress,\" said the maid to\nanother, as she took the parrot into the kitchen; \"to think of eating\na grilled parrot's head!\" \"Never mind,\" said the other; \"you'd better\nprepare it as she bids you, or she'll be very cross.\" Then the maid\nwho had received the order began plucking the long feathers out of\nVicram Maharajah's wings, he all the time hanging down his head, so\nthat she thought he was dead. Then, going to fetch some water in\nwhich to boil him, she laid him down close to the place where they\nwashed the dishes. Now, the kitchen was on the ground floor, and there\nwas a hole right through the wall, into which the water used in\nwashing the dishes ran, and through which all the scraps, bones,\npeelings and parings were washed away after the daily cooking; and in\nthis hole Vicram Maharajah hid himself, quick as thought.\n\n\"Oh dear! oh dear!\" cried the maid when she returned. \"What can I do?\nwhat will my mistress say? I only turned my back for one moment, and\nthe parrot's gone.\" \"Very likely,\" answered the other maid, \"some cat\nhas taken it away. It could not have been alive, and flown or run\naway, or I should have seen it go; but never fear, a chicken will do\nvery well for her instead.\"\n\nThen they took a chicken and boiled it, and grilled the head and took\nit to their mistress; and she ate it, little bit by little bit, saying\nas she did so--\n\n\"Ah, pretty polly! so here's the end of you! This is the brain that\nthought so cunningly and devised my overthrow! this is the tongue that\nspoke against me! this is the throat through which came the\nthreatening words! Aha! who is right now, I wonder?\"\n\nVicram, in the hole close by, heard her and felt very much alarmed;\nfor he thought, \"If she should catch me after all!\" He could not fly\naway, for all his wing feathers had been pulled out; so there he had\nto stay some time, living on the scraps that were washed into the hole\nin the washing of the plates, and perpetually exposed to danger of\nbeing drowned in the streams of water that were poured through it. At\nlast, however, his new feathers were sufficiently grown to bear him,\nand he flew away to a little temple in the jungle some way off, where\nhe perched behind the idol.\n\nIt happened that Champa Ranee used to go to that temple, and he had\nnot been there long before she came there to worship her idol.\n\nShe fell on her knees before the image, and began to pray. Her prayer\nwas that the god would transport her body and soul to heaven (for she\nhad a horror of dying), and she cried, \"Only grant my prayer--only let\nthis be so, and I will do anything you wish--anything--anything.\"\n\nVicram Maharajah was hidden behind the image and heard her, and said--\n\n\"Champa Ranee Nautch girl, your prayer is heard!\" (She thought the\nidol himself was speaking to her, and listened attentively.) \"This is\nwhat you must do: sell all you possess, and give the money to the\npoor; you must also give money to all your servants and dismiss them.\nLevel also your house to the ground, that you may be wholly separated\nfrom earth. Then you will be fit for heaven. Come, having done all I\ncommand you, on this day week to this place, and you shall be\ntransported thither body and soul.\"\n\nChampa Ranee believed what she heard, and forgetful of Vicram\nMaharajah Parrot's threat, hastened to do as she was bidden. She sold\nher possessions, and gave all the money to the poor; razed her house\nto the ground, and dismissed her servants; which being accomplished,\non the day appointed she went to the temple, and sat on the edge of a\nwell outside it, explaining to the assembled people how the idol\nhimself had spoken to her, and how they would shortly see her caught\nup to heaven, and thus her departure from the world would be even\nmore celebrated than her doings whilst in it. All the people listened\neagerly to her words, for they believed her inspired, and to see her\nascension the whole city had come out, with hundreds and hundreds of\nstrangers and travelers, princes, merchants and nobles, from far and\nnear, all full of expectation and curiosity.\n\nThen, as they waited, a fluttering of little wings was heard, and a\nparrot flew over Champa Ranee's head, calling out, \"Nautch girl!\nNautch girl! what have you done?\" Champa Ranee recognized the voice as\nVicram's; he went on: \"Will you go body and soul to heaven? have you\nforgotten polly's words?\"\n\nChampa Ranee rushed into the temple, and, falling on her knees before\nthe idol, cried out, \"Gracious Power, I have done all as you\ncommanded; let your words come true; save me; take me to heaven.\"\n\nBut the Parrot above her cried, \"Good-bye, Champa Ranee, good-bye; you\nate a chicken's head, not mine. Where is your house now? where your\nservants and all your possessions? Have my words come true, think you,\nor yours?\"\n\nThen the woman saw all, and in her rage and despair, cursing her own\nfolly, she fell violently down on the floor of the temple, and dashing\nher head against the stone, killed herself.\n\nIt was now two years since the Rajah Vicram left his kingdom; and\nabout six months before, Butti, in despair of his ever returning, had\nset out to seek for him. Up and down through many countries had he\ngone, searching for his master, but without success. As good fortune\nwould have it, however, he chanced to be one of those strangers who\nhad come to witness the Nautch girl's translation, and no sooner did\nhe see the Parrot which spoke to her than in him he recognized Vicram.\nThe Rajah also saw him, and flew on to his shoulder, upon which Butti\ncaught him, put him in a cage and took him home.\n\nNow was a puzzling problem to be solved. The Rajah's soul was in the\nParrot's body, and the Carpenter's son's soul in the Rajah's body. How\nwas the latter to be expelled to make way for the former? He could not\nreturn to his own body, for that had perished long before. The Wuzeer\nknew not how to manage the matter, and determined therefore to await\nthe course of events.\n\nIt happened that the pretended Rajah and Butti each had a fighting\nram, and one day the Rajah said to the Wuzeer, \"Let us set our rams to\nfight to-day, and try the strength of mine against yours.\" \"Agreed,\"\nanswered the Wuzeer; and they set them to fight. But there was much\ndifference in the two rams; for when Butti's ram was but a lamb, and\nhis horns were growing, Butti had tied him to a lime tree, and his\nhorns had got very strong indeed by constantly rubbing against its\ntender stem and butting against it; but the Carpenter's son had tied\nhis ram, when a lamb, to a young teak tree, the trunk of which was so\nstout and strong that the little creature, butting against it, could\nmake no impression on it, but only damaged and loosened his own horns.\n\nThe pretended Rajah soon saw, to his vexation, that his favorite's\nhorns being less strong than its opponent's, he was getting tired, and\nbeginning to lose courage, would certainly be worsted in the fight;\nso, quick as thought, he left his own body and transported his soul\ninto the ram's body, in order to give it an increase of courage and\nresolution, and enable it to win.\n\nNo sooner did Vicram Maharajah, who was hanging up in a cage, see what\nhad taken place, than he left the parrot's body and re-entered his own\nbody. Then Butti's ram pushed the other down on its knees and the\nWuzeer ran and fetched a sword, and cut off its head; thus putting an\nend, with the life of the ram, to the life of the Carpenter's son.\n\nGreat was the joy of Anar Ranee and all the household at recovering\nthe Rajah after his long absence; and Anar Ranee prayed him to fly\naway no more as a parrot, which he promised her he would not do.\n\nBut the taste for wandering and love of an unsettled life did not\nleave him on his resuming his proper form; and one of the things in\nwhich he most delighted was to roam about the jungles near the palace\nby himself, without attendant or guide. One very sultry day, when he\nwas thus out by himself, he wandered over a rocky part of the country,\nwhich was flat and arid, without a tree upon it to offer shelter from\nthe burning sun. Vicram, tired with his walk, threw himself down by\nthe largest piece of rock he could find to rest. As he lay there, half\nasleep, a little Cobra came out of a hole in the ground, and seeing\nhis mouth wide open (which looked like some shady cranny in a rock),\ncrept in and curled himself up in the Rajah's throat.\n\nVicram Maharajah called out to the Cobra, \"Get out of my throat.\" But\nthe Cobra said, \"No, I won't go; I like being here better then under\nground;\" and there he stayed. Vicram didn't know what to do, for the\nCobra lived in his throat and could not be got out. At times it would\npeep out of his mouth, but the moment the Rajah tried to catch it, it\nran back again.\n\n\"Who ever heard of a Rajah in such a miserable plight?\" sighed he to\nButti--\"to think of having this Cobra in my throat!\"\n\n\"Ah, my dear friend,\" Butti would answer, \"why will you go roaming\nabout the country by yourself? Will you never be cured of it?\"\n\n\"If one could only catch this Cobra, I'd be content to wander no\nmore,\" said the Rajah, \"for my wandering has not brought me much good\nof late.\" But to catch the Cobra was more than any man could do. At\nlast, one day, Vicram, driven nearly mad in this perplexity, ran away\ninto the jungle. Tidings of this were soon brought to Butti, who was\nmuch grieved to hear it, and sighed, saying, \"Alas! alas! of what\navail to Vicram Maharajah is his more than human wisdom, when the one\nunlucky self-chosen gift neutralizes all the good he might do with it!\nIt has given him a love of wandering hither and thither, minding\neverybody's business but his own; his kingdom is neglected, his people\nuncared for, and he, that used to be the pride of all Rajahs, the\nbest, the noblest, has finally slunk out of his country, like a thief\nescaping from jail.\"\n\nButti sent messengers far and wide seeking Vicram Maharajah, but they\ncould not find him; he then determined to go himself in search of his\nlost friend; and having made proper arrangements for the government of\nthe country during his absence, he set off on his travels.\n\nMeantime Vicram wandered on and on until at last, one day, he came to\nthe palace of a certain Rajah, who reigned over a country very far\nfrom his own, and he sat down with the beggars at the palace gate.\n\nNow, the Rajah at whose gate Vicram Maharajah sat had a good and\nlovely daughter, named Buccoulee.[65] Many Princes wished to marry\nthis Princess, but she would marry none of them. Her father and mother\nsaid to her, \"Why will you not choose a husband? Among all these\nPrinces who ask you in marriage there are many rich and powerful--many\nhandsome and brave--many wise and good; why will you refuse them all?\"\nThe Princess replied, \"It is not my destiny to marry any of them;\ncontinually in my dreams I see my destined husband, and I wait for\nhim.\" \"Who is he?\" they asked. \"His name,\" she answered, \"is the Rajah\nVicram; he will come from a very far country; he has not come yet.\"\nThey replied, \"There is no Rajah, far or near, that we know of, of\nthis name; give over this fancy of yours and marry some one else.\"\n\n [65] Said to mean some sort of water-plant.\n\nBut she constantly refused, saying, \"No, I will wait for the Rajah\nVicram.\" Her parents thought, \"It may be even as she says. Who knows\nbut perhaps some day a great King, greater than any we know, may come\nto this country and wish to marry the girl; we shall then be glad that\nwe had not obliged her to marry any of her present suitors?\"\n\nNo sooner had Vicram Maharajah come to the palace gate, and sat down\nthere with the beggars, than the Princess Buccoulee, looking out of\nthe window, saw him and cried, \"There is the husband I saw in my\ndreams; there is the Rajah Vicram.\" \"Where, child, where?\" said her\nmother; \"there's no Rajah there; only a parcel of beggars.\"\n\nBut the Princess persisted that one of them was the Rajah Vicram.\nThen the Ranee sent for Vicram Maharajah and questioned him.\n\nHe said his name was \"Rajah Vicram.\" But the Rajah and Ranee did not\nbelieve him; and they were very angry with the Princess because she\npersisted in saying that he, and no other, would she marry. At last\nthey got so enraged with her that they said, \"Well, marry your beggar\nhusband, if you will, but don't think to remain any longer our\ndaughter after becoming his wife; if you marry him it shall be to\nfollow his fortunes in the jungle; we shall soon see you repent your\nobstinacy.\"\n\n\"I will marry him and follow him wherever he goes,\" said the Princess.\n\nSo Vicram Maharajah and the Princess Buccoulee were married, and her\nparents turned her out of the house; nevertheless, they allowed her a\nlittle money. \"For,\" they said, \"she will fast enough find the\ndifference between a king's daughter and a beggar's wife, without\nwanting food.\"\n\nVicram built a little hut in the jungle, and there they lived; but the\npoor Princess had a sad time of it, for she was neither accustomed to\ncook nor wash, and the hard work tired her very much. Her chief grief,\nhowever, was that Vicram should have such a hideous tormentor as the\nCobra in his throat; and often and often of a night she sat awake,\ntrying to devise some means for catching it, but all in vain.\n\nAt last, one night, when she was thinking about it, she saw close by\ntwo Cobras come out of their holes, and as they began to talk, she\nlistened to hear what they would say.\n\n\"Who are these people?\" said the first Cobra. \"These,\" said the\nsecond, \"are the Rajah Vicram, and his wife the Princess Buccoulee.\"\n\"What are they doing here? why is the Rajah so far from his kingdom?\"\nasked the first Cobra.\n\n\"Oh, he ran away because he was so miserable; he has a Cobra that\nlives in his throat,\" answered the second.\n\n\"Can no one get it out?\" said the first.\n\n\"No,\" replied the other; \"because they do not know the secret.\" \"What\nsecret?\" asked the first Cobra. \"Don't you know?\" said the second;\n\"why, if his wife only took a few marking nuts,[66] and pounded them\nwell, and mixed them in cocoa-nut oil, and set the whole on fire, and\nhung the Rajah, her husband, head downward up in a tree above it, the\nsmoke, rising upward, would instantly kill the Cobra in his mouth,\nwhich would tumble down dead.\"\n\n [66] _Semecarpus anacardium._\n\n\"I never heard of that before,\" said the first Cobra.\n\n\"Didn't you?\" exclaimed the second. \"Why, if they did the same thing\nat the mouth of your hole, they'd kill you in no time; and then,\nperhaps, they might find all the fine treasure you have there!\" \"Don't\njoke in that way,\" said the first Cobra; \"I don't like it;\" and he\ncrawled away quite offended, and the second Cobra followed him.\n\nNo sooner had the Princess heard this than she determined to try the\nexperiment. So next morning she sent for all the villagers living near\n(who all knew and loved her, and would do anything she told them,\nbecause she was the Rajah's daughter), and bade them take a great\ncauldron and fill it with cocoa-nut oil, and pound down an immense\nnumber of marking nuts and throw them into it, and then bring the\ncauldron to her. They did so, and she set the whole on fire, and\ncaused Vicram to be hung up in a tree overhead; and as soon as the\nsmoke from the cauldron rose in the air it suffocated the Cobra in\nVicram Maharajah's throat, which fell down quite dead. Then the Rajah\nVicram said to his wife, \"O worthy Buccoulee! what a noble woman you\nare! You have delivered me from this torment, which was more than all\nthe wise men in my kingdom could do.\"\n\nBuccoulee then caused the cauldron of oil to be placed close to the\nhole of the first Cobra, which she had heard speaking the night\nbefore, and he was suffocated.\n\nShe then ordered the people to dig him out of his hole, and in it they\nfound a vast amount of treasure--gold, silver and jewels. Then\nBuccoulee sent for royal robes for herself and her husband, and bade\nhim cut his hair and shave him; and when they were all ready, she took\nthe remainder of the treasure and returned with it to her father's\nhouse; and her father and mother, who had repented of their harshness,\ngladly welcomed her back, and were both surprised and delighted to see\nall the vast treasures she had, and what a handsome, princely-looking\nman her husband was.\n\nThen one day news was brought to Vicram that a stranger Wuzeer had\narrived in the palace as the Rajah's guest, and that this Wuzeer had\nfor twelve years been wandering round the world in search of his\nmaster, but, not having found him, was returning to his own home.\nVicram thought to himself, \"Can this possibly be Butti?\" and he ran to\nsee.\n\nIt was indeed Butti, who cried for joy to see him, saying, \"Oh\nVicram, Vicram! do you know it is twelve years since you left us all?\"\n\nThen Vicram Maharajah told Butti how the good Princess Buccoulee had\nmarried him and succeeded in killing the Cobra, and how he was then on\nthe point of returning to his own country. So they all set out\ntogether, being given many rich presents by Buccoulee's father and\nmother. At last after a long, long journey, they reached home. Anar\nRanee was overjoyed to see them again, for she had long mourned her\nhusband as dead. When Buccoulee Ranee was told who Anar Ranee was and\ntaken to see her, she felt very much frightened, for she thought,\n\"Perhaps she will be jealous of me and hate me.\" But with a gentle\nsmile Anar Ranee came to meet her, saying, \"Sister, I hear it is to\nyou we owe the preservation of the Rajah, and that it was you who\nkilled the Cobra; I can never be sufficiently grateful to you, nor\nlove you enough, as long as I live.\"\n\nFrom that day Vicram Maharajah stayed in his own kingdom, ruling it\nwisely and well, and beloved by all. He and Butti lived to a good old\nage, and their affection for each other lasted as long as they lived.\nSo that it became a proverb in that country, and instead of saying,\n\"So-and-so love each other like brothers\" (when speaking of two who\nwere much attached), the people would say, \"So-and-so love each other\nlike the Rajah and the Wuzeer.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nVIII.\n\n_LESS INEQUALITY THAN MEN DEEM._\n\n\nA young Rajah once said to his Wuzeer, \"How is it that I am so often\nill? I take care of myself; I never go out in the rain; I wear warm\nclothes; I eat good food. Yet I am always catching cold or getting\nfever, in spite of all precautions.\"\n\n\"Overmuch care is worse than none at all,\" answered the Wuzeer, \"which\nI will soon prove to you.\"\n\nSo he invited the Rajah to accompany him for a walk in the fields.\nBefore they had gone very far they met a poor Shepherd. The Shepherd\nwas accustomed to be out all day long, tending his flock; he had only\na coarse cloak on, which served but insufficiently to protect him from\nthe rain and the cold--from the dews by night and the sun by day; his\nfood was parched corn, his drink water; and he lived out in the fields\nin a small hut made of plaited palm branches. The Wuzeer said to the\nRajah, \"You know perfectly well what hard lives these poor shepherds\nlead. Accost this one, and ask him if he often suffers from the\nexposure which he is obliged to undergo.\"\n\nThe Rajah did as the Wuzeer told him, and asked the Shepherd whether\nhe did not often suffer from rheumatism, cold and fever. The Shepherd\nanswered, \"Perhaps it will surprise you, sire, to hear that I never\nsuffer from either the one or the other. From childhood I have been\naccustomed to endure the extremes of heat and cold, and I suppose that\nis why they never affect me.\"\n\nAt this the Rajah was very much astonished, and he said to the Wuzeer,\n\"I own I am surprised; but doubtless this Shepherd is an\nextraordinarily strong man, whom nothing would ever affect.\" \"We shall\nsee,\" said the Wuzeer; and he invited the Shepherd to the palace.\nThere, for a long time, the Shepherd was taken great care of; he was\nnever permitted to go out in the sun or rain, he had good food and\ngood clothes, and he was not allowed to sit in a draught or get his\nfeet wet. At the end of some months the Wuzeer sent for him into a\nmarble courtyard, the floor of which he caused to be sprinkled with\nwater.\n\nThe Shepherd had been for some time so little used to exposure of any\nkind that wetting his feet caused him to take cold; the place felt to\nhim chilly and damp after the palace; he rapidly became worse, and in\na short time, in spite of all the doctors' care, he died. \"Where is\nour friend the Shepherd?\" asked the Rajah, a few days afterward; \"he\nsurely could not have caught cold merely by treading on the marble\nfloor you had caused to be sprinkled with water?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the Wuzeer, \"the result was more disastrous than I\nhad anticipated; the poor Shepherd caught cold and is dead. Having\nbeen lately accustomed to overmuch care, the sudden change of\ntemperature killed him.\n\n\"You see now to what dangers we are exposed from which the poor are\nexempt. It is thus that Nature equalizes her best gifts; wealth and\nopulence tend too frequently to destroy health and shorten life,\nthough they may give much enjoyment to it whilst it lasts.\"\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nIX.\n\n_PANCH-PHUL RANEE._\n\n\nA certain Rajah had two wives, of whom he preferred the second to the\nfirst; the first Ranee had a son, but, because he was not the child of\nthe second Ranee, his father took a great dislike to him, and treated\nhim so harshly that the poor boy was very unhappy.\n\nOne day, therefore, he said to his mother: \"Mother, my father does not\ncare for me, and my presence is only a vexation to him. I should be\nhappier anywhere than here; let me therefore go and seek my fortune in\nother lands.\"\n\nSo the Ranee asked her husband if he would allow their son to travel.\nHe said, \"The boy is free to go, but I don't see how he is to live in\nany other part of the world, for he is too stupid to earn his living,\nand I will give him no money to squander on senseless pleasures.\" Then\nthe Ranee told her son that he had his father's permission to travel,\nand said to him, \"You are going out into the world now to try your\nluck; take with you the food and clothes I have provided for your\njourney.\" And she gave him a bundle of clothes and several small\nloaves, and in each loaf she placed a gold mohur, that on opening it,\nhe might find money as well as food inside; and he started on his\njourney.\n\nWhen the young Rajah had traveled a long way, and left his father's\nkingdom far behind, he one day came upon the outskirts of a great\ncity, where (instead of taking the position due to his rank, and\nsending to inform the Rajah of his arrival) he went to a poor\nCarpenter's house, and begged of him a lodging for the night. The\nCarpenter was busy making wooden clogs in the porch of his house, but\nhe looked up and nodded, saying, \"Young man, you are welcome to any\nassistance a stranger may need and we can give. If you are in want of\nfood, you will find my wife and daughter in the house: they will be\nhappy to cook for you.\" The Rajah went inside and said to the\nCarpenter's daughter, \"I am a stranger, and have traveled a long way;\nI am both tired and hungry: cook me some dinner as fast as you can,\nand I will pay you for your trouble.\" She answered, \"I would willingly\ncook you some dinner at once, but I have no wood to light the fire,\nand the jungle is some way off.\" \"It matters not,\" said the Rajah;\n\"this will do to light the fire, and I'll make the loss good to your\nfather;\" and taking a pair of new clogs which the Carpenter had just\nfinished making, he broke them up and lighted the fire with them.\n\nNext morning he went into the jungle, cut wood, and, having made a\npair of new clogs--better than those with which he had lighted the\nfire the evening before--placed them with the rest of the goods for\nsale in the Carpenter's shop. Shortly afterward, one of the servants\nof the Rajah of that country came to buy a pair of clogs for his\nmaster, and seeing these new ones, said to the Carpenter, \"Why, man,\nthese clogs are better than all the rest put together. I will take\nnone other to the Rajah. I wish you would always make such clogs as\nthese.\" And throwing down ten gold mohurs on the floor of the hut, he\ntook up the clogs and went away.\n\nThe Carpenter was much surprised at the whole business. In the first\nplace, he usually received only two or three rupees for each pair of\nclogs; and in the second, he knew that these which the Rajah's servant\nhad judged worth ten gold mohurs had not been made by him; and how\nthey had come there he could not think, for he felt certain they were\nnot with the rest of the clogs the night before. He thought and\nthought, but the more he thought about the matter the more puzzled he\ngot, and he went to talk about it to his wife and daughter. Then his\ndaughter said, \"Oh, those must have been the clogs the stranger made!\"\nAnd she told her father how he had lighted the fire the night before\nwith two of the clogs which were for sale, and had afterward fetched\nwood from the jungle and made another pair to replace them.\n\nThe Carpenter at this news was more astonished than ever, and he\nthought to himself, \"Since this stranger seems a quiet, peaceable sort\nof man, and can make clogs so well, it is a great pity he should leave\nthis place: he would make a good husband for my daughter;\" and,\ncatching hold of the young Rajah, he propounded his scheme to him.\n(But all this time he had no idea that his guest was a Rajah.)\n\nNow the Carpenter's daughter was a very pretty girl--as pretty as any\nRanee you ever saw; she was also good-tempered, clever, and could cook\nextremely well. So when the Carpenter asked the Rajah to be his\nson-in-law, he looked at the father, the mother and the girl, and\nthinking to himself that many a better man had a worse fate, he said,\n\"Yes, I will marry your daughter, and stay here and make clogs.\" So\nthe Rajah married the Carpenter's daughter.\n\nThis Rajah was very clever at making all sorts of things in wood. When\nhe had made all the clogs he wished to sell next day, he would amuse\nhimself in making toys; and in this way he made a thousand wooden\nparrots. They were as like real parrots as possible. They had each two\nwings, two legs, two eyes and a sharp beak. And when the Rajah had\nfinished them all, he painted and varnished them and put them one\nafternoon outside the house to dry.\n\nNight came on, and with it came Parbuttee and Mahdeo,[67] flying round\nthe world to see the different races of men. Amongst the many places\nthey visited was the city where the Carpenter lived; and in the garden\nin front of the house they saw the thousand wooden parrots which the\nRajah had made and painted and varnished, all placed out to dry. Then\nParbuttee turned to Mahdeo, and said, \"These parrots are very well\nmade--they need nothing but life. Why should not we give them life?\"\nMahdeo answered, \"What would be the use of that? It would be a strange\nfreak, indeed!\" \"Oh,\" said Parbuttee, \"I only meant you to do it as an\namusement. It would be so funny to see the wooden parrots flying\nabout! But do not do it if you don't like.\" \"You would like it then?\"\nanswered Mahdeo. \"Very well, I will do it.\" And he endowed the\nthousand parrots with life.\n\n [67] The god Mahdeo is an incarnation of Siva the Destroyer. The\n goddess Parbuttee is his wife.\n\nParbuttee and Mahdeo then flew away.\n\nNext morning the Rajah got up early to see if the varnish he had put\non the wooden parrots was dry; but no sooner did he open the door\nthan--marvel of marvels!--the thousand wooden parrots all came walking\ninto the house, flapping their wings and chattering to each other.\n\nHearing the noise, the Carpenter and the Carpenter's wife and daughter\ncame running out to see what was the matter, and were not less\nastonished than the Rajah himself at the miracle which had taken\nplace. Then the Carpenter's wife turned to her son-in-law, and said,\n\"It is all very well that you should have made these wooden parrots;\nbut I don't know where we are to find food for them! Great, strong\nparrots like these will eat not less than a pound of rice a-piece\nevery day. Your father-in-law and I cannot afford to procure as much\nas that for them in this poor house. If you wish to keep them, you\nmust live elsewhere, for we cannot provide for you all.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the Rajah; \"you shall not have cause to accuse me of\nruining you, for from henceforth I will have a house of my own.\" So he\nand his wife went to live in a house of their own, and he took the\nthousand parrots with him, and his mother-in-law gave her daughter\nsome corn and rice and money to begin housekeeping with. Moreover, he\nfound that the parrots, that instead of being an expense, were the\nmeans of increasing his fortune; for they flew away every morning\nearly to get food, and spent the whole day out in the fields; and\nevery evening, when they returned home, each parrot brought in his\nbeak a stalk of corn or rice, or whatever it had found good to eat. So\nthat their master was regularly supplied with more food than enough;\nand what with selling what he did not require, and working at his\ntrade, he soon became quite a rich carpenter.\n\nAfter he had been living in this way very happily for some time, one\nnight, when he fell asleep, the Rajah dreamed a wonderful dream, and\nthis was the dream:\n\nHe thought that very, very far away beyond the Red Sea was a beautiful\nkingdom surrounded by seven other seas; and that it belonged to a\nRajah and Ranee who had one lovely daughter, named Panch-Phul Ranee\n(the Five Flower Queen), after whom the whole kingdom was called\nPanch-Phul Ranee's country; and that this Princess lived in the centre\nof her father's kingdom, in a little house round which were seven wide\nditches, and seven great hedges made of spears; and that she was\ncalled Panch-Phul Ranee because she was so light and delicate that she\nweighed no more than five white lotus flowers! Moreover, he dreamed\nthat this Princess had vowed to marry no one who could not cross the\nseven seas, and jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of\nspears.\n\nAfter dreaming this the young Rajah awoke, and feeling much puzzled,\ngot up, and sitting with his head in his hands, tried to think the\nmatter over and discover if he had ever heard anything like his dream\nbefore; but he could make nothing of it.\n\nWhilst he was thus thinking, his wife awoke and asked him what was the\nmatter. He told her, and she said, \"That is a strange dream. If I were\nyou, I'd ask the old parrot about it; he is a wise bird, and perhaps\nhe knows.\" This parrot of which she spoke was the most wise of all the\nthousand wooden parrots. The Rajah took his wife's advice, and when\nall the birds came home that evening, he called the old parrot and\ntold him his dream, saying, \"Can this be true?\" To which the parrot\nreplied, \"It is all true. The Panch-Phul Ranee's country lies beyond\nthe Red Sea, and is surrounded by seven seas, and she dwells in a\nhouse built in the centre of her father's kingdom. Round her house are\nseven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears, and she has vowed not\nto marry any man who cannot jump these seven ditches and seven hedges;\nand because she is very beautiful many great and noble men have tried\nto do this, but in vain.\n\n\"The Rajah and Ranee, her father and mother, are very fond of her and\nproud of her. Every day she goes to the palace to see them, and they\nweigh her in a pair of scales. They put her in one scale and five\nlotus flowers in the other, and she's so delicate and fragile she\nweighs no heavier than the five little flowers, so they call her the\nPanch-Phul Ranee. Her father and mother are very proud of this.\"\n\n\"I should like to go to that country and see the Panch-Phul Ranee,\"\nsaid the Rajah; \"but I don't know how I could cross the seven seas.\"\n\"I will show you how to manage that,\" replied the old parrot. \"I and\nanother parrot will fly close together, I crossing my left over his\nright wing; so that we will move along as if we were one bird (using\nonly our outside wings to fly with), and on the chair made of our\ninterlaced wings you shall sit, and we will carry you safely across\nthe seven seas. On the way we will every evening alight in some high\ntree and rest, and every morning we can go on again.\" \"That sounds a\ngood plan; I have a great desire to try it,\" said the Rajah. \"Wife,\nwhat should you think of my going to the Panch-Phul Ranee's country,\nand seeing if I can jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of\nspears? Will you let me try?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered. \"If you like to go and marry her, go; only take\ncare that you do not kill yourself; and mind you come back some day.\"\nAnd she prepared food for him to take with him, and took off her gold\nand silver bangles, which she placed in a bundle of warm things, that\nhe might be in need neither of money nor clothes on the journey. He\nthen charged the nine hundred and ninety-eight parrots he left behind\nhim to bring her plenty of corn and rice daily (that she might never\nneed food while he was away), and took her to the house of her father,\nin whose care she was to remain during his absence; and he wished her\ngood-bye, saying, \"Do not fear but that I will come back to you, even\nif I do win the Panch-Phul Ranee, for you will always be my first\nwife, though you are the Carpenter's daughter.\"\n\nThe old parrot and another parrot then spread their wings, on which\nthe Rajah seated himself as on a chair, and rising up in the air, they\nflew away with him out of sight.\n\nFar, far, far they flew, as fast as parrots can fly, over hills, over\nforests, over rivers, over valleys, on, on, on, hour after hour, day\nafter day, week after week, only staying to rest every night when it\ngot too dark to see where they were going. At last they reached the\nseven seas which surrounded the Panch-Phul Ranee's country. When once\nthey began crossing the seas they could not rest (for there was\nneither rock nor island on which to alight), so they were obliged to\nfly straight across them, night and day, until they gained the shore.\n\nBy reason of this the parrots were too exhausted on their arrival to\ngo as far as the city where the Rajah, Panch-Phul Ranee's father,\nlived, but they flew down to rest on a beautiful banyan tree, which\ngrew not far from the sea, close to a small village. The Rajah\ndetermined to go into the village and get food and shelter there. He\ntold the parrots to stay in the banyan tree till his return; then,\nleaving his bundle of clothes and most of his money in their charge,\nhe set off on foot toward the nearest house.\n\nAfter a little while he reached a Malee's cottage, and giving a gold\nmohur to the Malee's wife, got her to provide him with food and\nshelter for the night.\n\nNext morning he rose early, and said to his hostess, \"I am a stranger\nhere, and know nothing of the place. What is the name of your\ncountry?\" \"This,\" she said, \"is Panch-Phul Ranee's country.\"\n\n\"And what is the last news in your town?\" he asked. \"Very bad news\nindeed,\" she replied. \"You must know our Rajah has one only\ndaughter--a most beautiful Princess--and her name is Panch-Phul Ranee,\nfor she is so light and delicate that she weighs no heavier than five\nlotus flowers. After her this whole country is called Panch-Phul\nRanee's country. She lives in a small bungalow[68] in the centre of\nthe city you see yonder; but, unluckily for us, she has vowed to marry\nno man who cannot jump on foot over the seven hedges made of spears,\nand across the seven great ditches that surround her house. This\ncannot be done, Babamah![69] I don't know how many hundreds of\nthousands of Rajahs have tried to do it and died in the attempt! Yet\nthe Princess will not break her vow. Daily, worse and worse tidings\ncome from the city of fresh people having been killed in trying to\njump the seven hedges and seven ditches, and I see no end to the\nmisfortunes that will arise from it. Not only are so many brave men\nlost to the world, but, since the Princess will marry no one who does\nnot succeed in this, she stands a chance of not marrying at all; and\nif that be so, when the Rajah dies there will be no one to protect her\nand claim the right to succeed to the throne. All the nobles will\nprobably fight for the Raj, and the whole kingdom be turned\ntopsy-turvy.\"\n\n [68] House.\n\n [69] Oh, my child.\n\n\"Mahi,\"[70] said the Rajah, \"if that is all there is to do, I will try\nand win your Princess, for I can jump right well.\"\n\n [70] Woman or mother.\n\n\"Baba,\"[71] answered the Malee's wife, \"do not think of such a thing;\nare you mad? I tell you, hundreds of thousands of men have said these\nwords before, and been killed for their rashness. What power do you\nthink you possess to succeed where all before you have failed? Give up\nall thought of this, for it is utter folly.\"\n\n [71] Child.\n\n\"I will not do it,\" answered the Rajah, \"before going to consult some\nof my friends.\"\n\nSo he left the Malee's cottage, and returned to the banyan tree to\ntalk over the matter with the parrots; for he thought they would be\nable to carry him on their wings across the seven ditches and seven\nhedges made of spears. When he reached the tree the old parrot said to\nhim, \"It is two days since you left us; what news have you brought\nfrom the village?\" The Rajah answered, \"The Panch-Phul Ranee still\nlives in the house surrounded by the seven ditches, and seven hedges\nmade of spears, and has vowed to marry no man who cannot jump over\nthem; but cannot you parrots, who brought me all the way over the\nseven seas, carry me on your wings across these great barriers?\"\n\n\"You stupid man!\" answered the old parrot; \"of course we could; but\nwhat would be the good of doing so? If we carried you across, it would\nnot be at all the same thing as your jumping across, and the Princess\nwould no more consent to marry you than she would now; for she has\nvowed to marry no one who has not jumped across _on foot_. If you want\nto do the thing, why not do it yourself, instead of talking nonsense.\nHave you forgotten how, when you were a little boy, you were taught to\njump by conjurors and tumblers (for the parrot knew all the Rajah's\nhistory)? Now is the time to put their lessons in practice. If you can\njump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears, you will have\ndone a good work, and be able to marry the Panch-Phul Ranee; but if\nnot, this is a thing in which we cannot help you.\"\n\n\"You reason justly,\" replied the Rajah. \"I will try to put in practice\nthe lessons I learnt when a boy; meantime, do you stay here till my\nreturn.\"\n\nSo saying, he went away to the city, which he reached by nightfall.\nNext morning early he went to where the Princess' bungalow stood, to\ntry and jump the fourteen great barriers. He was strong and agile, and\nhe jumped the seven great ditches, and six of the seven hedges made of\nspears; but in running to jump the seventh hedge he hurt his foot,\nand, stumbling, fell upon the spears and died--run through and through\nwith the cruel iron spikes.\n\nWhen Panch-Phul Ranee's father and mother got up that morning and\nlooked out, as their custom was, toward their daughter's bungalow,\nthey saw something transfixed upon the seventh hedge of spears, but\nwhat it was they could not make out, for it dazzled their eyes. So the\nRajah called his Wuzeer and said to him, \"For some days I have seen no\none attempt to jump the seven hedges and seven ditches round\nPanch-Phul Ranee's bungalow; but what is that which I now see upon the\nseventh hedge of spears?\" The Wuzeer answered, \"That is a Rajah's son,\nwho has failed like all who have gone before him.\" \"But how is it,\"\nasked the Rajah, \"that he thus dazzles our eyes?\"\n\n\"It is,\" replied the Wuzeer, \"because he is so beautiful. Of all that\nhave died for the sake of Panch-Phul Ranee, this youth is, beyond\ndoubt, the handsomest.\" \"Alas!\" cried the Rajah, \"how many and how\nmany brave men has my daughter killed? I will have no more die for\nher. Let us send her and the dead man together away into the jungle.\"\n\nThen he ordered the servants to fetch the young Rajah's body. There he\nlay, still and beautiful, with a glory shining round him as the\nmoonlight shines round the clear bright moon, but without a spark of\nlife.\n\nWhen the Rajah saw him, he said, \"Oh pity, pity, that so brave and\nhandsome a boy should have come dying after this girl! Yet he is but\none of the thousands of thousands who have died thus to no purpose.\nPull up the spears and cast them into the seven ditches, for they\nshall remain no longer.\"\n\nThen he commanded two palanquins to be prepared and men in readiness\nto carry them, and said, \"Let the girl be married to the young Rajah,\nand let both be taken far away into the jungle, that we may never see\nthem more. Then there will be quiet in the land again.\"\n\nThe Ranee, Panch-Phul Ranee's mother, cried bitterly at this, for she\nwas very fond of her daughter, and she begged her husband not to send\nher away so cruelly--the living with the dead; but the Rajah was\ninexorable. \"That poor boy died,\" he said: \"let my daughter die too.\nI'll have no more men killed here.\"\n\nSo the two palanquins were prepared. Then he placed his daughter in\nthe one, and her dead husband in the other, and said to the\npalkee-bearers, \"Take these palkees and go out into the jungle until\nyou have reached a place so desolate that not so much as a sparrow is\nto be seen, and there leave them both.\"\n\nAnd so they did. Deep down in the jungle, where no bright sun could\npierce the darkness, nor human voice be heard, far from any habitation\nof man or means of supporting life, on the edge of a dank, stagnant\nmorass that was shunned by all but noisome reptiles and wandering\nbeasts of prey, they set them down and left them, the dead husband and\nthe living wife, alone to meet the horrors of the coming night--alone,\nwithout a chance of rescue.\n\nPanch-Phul Ranee heard the bearers' retreating footsteps, and their\nvoices getting fainter and fainter in the distance, and felt that she\nhad nothing to hope for but death.\n\nNight seemed coming on apace, for though the sun had not set, the\njungle was so dark that but little light pierced the gloom; and she\nthought she would take a last look at the husband her vow had killed,\nand sitting beside him wait till starvation should make her as he was,\nor some wild animal put a more speedy end to her sufferings.\n\nShe left her palkee and went toward his. There he lay with closed\neyes and close-shut lips: black curling hair, which escaped from under\nhis turban, concealed a ghastly wound on his temple. There was no look\nof pain on the face, and the long, sweeping eyelashes gave it such a\ntender, softened expression she could hardly believe that he was dead.\nHe was, in truth, very beautiful; and watching him she said to\nherself, \"Alas, what a noble being is here lost to the world! what an\nearth's joy is extinguished! Was it for this that I was cold, and\nproud, and stern--to break the cup of my own happiness and to be the\ndeath of such as you? Must you now never know that you won your wife?\nMust you never hear her ask your pardon for the past, nor know her\ncruel punishment? Ah, if you had but lived, how dearly I would have\nloved you! Oh my husband! my husband!\" And sinking down on the ground,\nshe buried her face in her hands and cried bitterly.\n\nWhile she was sitting thus night closed over the jungle, and brought\nwith it wild beasts that had left their dens and lairs in search of\nprey--to roam about, as the heat of the day was over. Tigers, lions,\nelephants and bison, all came by turns crushing through the underwood\nwhich surrounded the place where the palkees were, but they did no\nharm to Panch-Phul Ranee, for she was so fair that not even the cruel\nbeasts of the forest would injure her. At last, about four o'clock in\nthe morning, all the wild animals had gone, except two little jackals,\nwho had been very busy watching the rest and picking the bones left by\nthe tigers. Tired with running about, they lay down to rest close to\nthe palkees. Then one little jackal said to the other, who was her\nhusband, \"Do tell me a little story.\" \"Dear me!\" he exclaimed, \"what\npeople you women are for stories! Well, look just in front of you; do\nyou see those two?\" \"Yes,\" she answered; \"what of them?\" \"That woman\nyou see sitting on the ground,\" he said, \"is the Panch-Phul Ranee.\"\n\"And what son of a Rajah is the man in the palkee?\" asked she. \"That,\"\nhe replied, \"is a very sorrowful son. His father was so unkind to him\nthat he left his own home, and went to live in another country very\nfar from this; and there he dreamed about the Panch-Phul Ranee, and\ncame to our land in order to marry her, but he was killed in jumping\nthe seventh hedge of spears, and all he gained was to die for her\nsake.\"\n\n\"That is very sad,\" said the first little jackal; \"but could he never\nby any chance come to life again?\" \"Yes,\" answered the other; \"may be\nhe could, if only some one knew how to apply the proper remedies.\"\n\"What are the proper remedies, and how could he be cured?\" asked the\nlady jackal. (Now all this conversation had been heard by Panch-Phul\nRanee, and when this question was asked she listened very eagerly and\nattentively for the answer.)\n\n\"Do you see this tree?\" replied her husband. \"Well, if some of its\nleaves were crushed, and a little of the juice put into the Rajah's\ntwo ears and upon his upper lip, and some upon his temples also, and\nsome upon the spear-wounds in his side, he would come to life again\nand be as well as ever.\"\n\nAt this moment day dawned, and the two little jackals ran away.\nPanch-Phul Ranee did not forget their words. She, a Princess born, who\nhad never put her foot to the ground before (so delicately and\ntenderly had she been reared), walked over the rough clods of earth\nand the sharp stones till she reached the place where the tree grew of\nwhich the jackals had spoken. She gathered a number of its leaves,\nand, with hands and feet that had never before done coarse or common\nwork, beat and crushed them down. They were so stiff and strong that\nit took her a long time. At last, after tearing them, and stamping on\nthem, and pounding them between two stones, and biting the hardest\nparts, she thought they were sufficiently crushed; and rolling them up\nin a corner of her saree, she squeezed the juice through it on to her\nhusband's temples, and put a little on his upper lip and into his\nears, and some also on the spear-wound in his side. And when she had\ndone this, he awoke as if he had been only sleeping, and sat up,\nwondering where he was. Before him stood Panch-Phul Ranee shining like\na glorious star, and all around them was the dark jungle.\n\nIt would be hard to say which of them was the most astonished--the\nRajah or the Princess. She was surprised that the remedy should have\ntaken such speedy effect, and could hardly believe her eyes when she\nsaw her husband get up. And if he looked beautiful when dead, much\nmore handsome did he seem to her now, so full of life and animation\nand power--the picture of health and strength. And he in his turn was\nlost in amazement at the exquisite loveliness of the lady who stood\nbefore him. He did not know who she could be, for he had never seen\nher like except in a dream. Could she be really the world-renowned\nPanch-Phul Ranee, or was he dreaming still? He feared to move lest he\nshould break the spell. But as he sat there wondering, she spoke,\nsaying, \"You marvel at what has taken place. You do not know me--I am\nPanch-Phul Ranee, your wife.\"\n\nThen he said, \"Ah, Princess, is it indeed you? You have been very hard\nto me.\" \"I know, I know,\" she answered; \"I caused your death, but I\nbrought you to life again. Let the past be forgotten; come home with\nme, and my father and mother will welcome you as a son.\"\n\nHe replied, \"No, I must first return to my own home a while. Do you\nrather return there now with me, for it is a long time since I left\nit, and afterward we will come again to your father's kingdom.\"\n\nTo this Panch-Phul Ranee agreed. It took them, however, a long time to\nfind their way out of the jungle. At last they succeeded in doing so,\nfor none of the wild animals in it attempted to injure them, so\nbeautiful and royal did they both look.\n\nWhen they reached the banyan tree, where the Rajah had left the two\nparrots, the old parrot called out to him, \"So you have come back at\nlast! We thought you never would, you were such a long time away!\nThere you went, leaving us here all the time, and after all doing no\ngood, but only getting yourself killed. Why didn't you do as we\nadvised you, and jump up nicely?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm sure,\" said the Rajah, \"yours is a hard case; but I beg\nyour pardon for keeping you waiting so long, and now I hope you'll\ntake me and my wife home.\"\n\n\"Yes, we will do that,\" answered the parrots; \"but you had better get\nsome dinner first, for it's a long journey over the seven seas.\"\n\nSo the Rajah went to the village close by and bought food for himself\nand the Panch-Phul Ranee. When he returned with it, he said to her, \"I\nfear the long journey before us for you: had you not better let me\nmake it alone, and return here for you when it is over?\" But she\nanswered, \"No! what could I, a poor, weak woman, do here alone? and I\nwill not return to my father's house till you can come too. Take me\nwith you, however far you go; only promise me you will never leave\nme.\" So he promised her, and they both, mounting the parrots, were\ncarried up in the air across the seven seas, across the Red Sea, on,\non, on, a whole year's journey, until they reached his father's\nkingdom, and alighted to rest at the foot of the palace garden. The\nRajah, however, did not know where he was, for all had much changed\nsince he left it some years before.\n\nThen a little son was born to the Rajah and Panch-Phul Ranee. He was a\nbeautiful child, but his father was grieved to think that in that\nbleak place there was no shelter for the mother or the baby. So he\nsaid to his wife, \"I will go to fetch food for us both, and fire to\ncook it with, and inquire what this country is, and seek out a place\nof rest for you. Do not be afraid; I shall soon return.\" Now, far off\nin the distance smoke was to be seen rising from tents which belonged\nto some conjurors and dancing-people, and thither the Rajah bent his\nsteps, feeling certain he should be able to get fire, and perhaps food\nalso, from the inhabitants. When he got there, he found the place was\nmuch larger than he had expected--quite a good-sized village in\nfact--the abode of Nautch-people and conjurors. In all the houses the\npeople were busy, some dancing, some singing, others trying various\nconjuring tricks or practising beating the drum, and all seemed happy\nand joyful.\n\nWhen the conjurors saw him, they were so much struck with his\nappearance (for he was very handsome) that they determined to make\nhim, if possible, stay among them and join their band. And they said\none to another, \"How well he would look beating the drum for the\ndancers! All the world would come to see us dance, if we had such a\nhandsome man as that to beat the drum.\"\n\nThe Rajah, unconscious of their intentions, went into the largest hut\nhe saw, and said to a woman who was grinding corn, \"Bai,[72] give me a\nlittle rice, and some fire from your hearth.\" She immediately\nconsented, and got up to fetch the burning sticks he asked for; but\nbefore she gave them to him, she and her companions threw upon them a\ncertain powder, containing a very potent charm; and no sooner did the\nRajah receive them than he forgot about his wife and little child, his\njourney, and all that had ever happened to him in his life before;\nsuch was the peculiar property of the powder. And when the conjurors\nsaid to him, \"Why should you go away? stay with us, and be one of us,\"\nhe willingly consented to do so.\n\n [72] Woman.\n\nAll this time Panch-Phul Ranee waited and waited for her husband, but\nhe never came. Night approached without his having brought her any\nfood or news of having found a place of shelter for her and the baby.\nAt last, faint and weary, she swooned away.\n\nIt happened that that very day the Ranee (Panch-Phul Ranee's husband's\nmother) lost her youngest child, a fine little boy of only a day old;\nand her servants took its body to the bottom of the garden to bury\nit. Just as they were going to do so, they heard a low cry, and,\nlooking round, saw close by a beautiful woman lying on the ground,\ndead, or apparently so, and beside her a fine little baby boy. The\nidea immediately entered their heads of leaving the dead baby beside\nthe dead woman, and taking her living baby back with them to the\npalace; and so they did.\n\nWhen they returned, they said to their mistress, \"Your child did not\ndie; see here it is--it got well again,\" and showed her Panch-Phul\nRanee's baby; but after a time, when the Ranee questioned them about\nit, they told her the whole truth, but she had become meanwhile very\nfond of the little boy, and so he continued in the palace and was\nbrought up as her son; being, in truth, her grandson, though she did\nnot know it.\n\nMeantime the palace Malee's wife went out, as her custom was every\nmorning, and evening, to gather flowers. In search of them she\nwandered as far as the jungle at the bottom of the garden, and there\nshe found the Panch-Phul Ranee lying as dead, and the dead baby beside\nher.\n\nThe good woman felt very sorry, and rubbed the Ranee's cold hands and\ngave her sweet flowers to smell, in hopes that she might revive. At\nlast she opened her eyes, and seeing the Malee's wife, said, \"Where am\nI? has not my husband come back? and who are you?\"\n\n\"My poor lady,\" answered the Malee's wife, \"I do not know where your\nhusband is. I am the Malee's wife, and coming here to gather flowers,\nI found you lying on the ground, and this your little baby, which is\ndead; but come home with me, I will take care of you.\"\n\nPanch-Phul Ranee answered, \"Kind friend, this is not my baby; he did\nnot die; he was the image of his father, and fairer than this child.\nSome one must have taken him away, for but a little while ago I held\nhim in my arms, and he was strong and well, while this one could never\nhave been more than a puny, weakly infant. Take me away; I will go\nhome with you.\"\n\nSo the Malee's wife buried the dead child and took the Panch-Phul\nRanee to her house, where she lived for fourteen years; but all that\ntime she could learn no tidings of her husband or her lost little boy.\nThe child, meanwhile, grew up in the palace, and became a very\nhandsome youth. One day he was wandering round the garden and chanced\nto pass the Malee's house. The Panch-Phul Ranee was sitting within,\nwatching the Malee's wife cook their dinner.\n\nThe young Prince saw her, and calling the Malee's wife, said to her,\n\"What beautiful lady is that in your house? and how did she come\nthere?\" She answered, \"Little Prince, what nonsense you talk! there is\nno lady here.\" He said again, \"I know there is a beautiful lady here,\nfor I saw her as I passed the open door.\" She replied, \"If you come\ntelling such tales about my house, I'll pull your tongue out.\" For she\nthought to herself, \"Unless I scold him well, the boy'll go talking\nabout what he's seen in the palace, and then perhaps some of the\npeople from there will come and take the poor Panch-Phul Ranee away\nfrom my care.\" But whilst the Malee's wife was talking to the young\nPrince, the Panch-Phul Ranee came from the inner room to watch and\nlisten to him unobserved; and no sooner did she see him than she could\nnot forbear crying out, \"Oh, how like he is to my husband! The same\neyes, the same shaped face and the same king-like bearing! Can he be\nmy son? He is just the age my son would have been had he lived.\"\n\nThe young Prince heard her speaking and asked what she said, to which\nthe Malee's wife replied, \"The woman you saw, and who just now spoke,\nlost her child fourteen years ago, and she was saying to herself how\nlike you were to that child, and thinking you must be the same; but\nshe is wrong, for we know you are the Ranee's son.\" Then Panch-Phul\nRanee herself came out of the house, and said to him, \"Young Prince, I\ncould not, when I saw you, help exclaiming how like you are to what my\nlost husband was, and to what my son might have been; for it is now\nfourteen years since I lost them both.\" And she told him how she had\nbeen a great Princess, and was returning with her husband to his own\nhome (to which they had got halfway in reaching that place), and how\nher little baby had been born in the jungle, and her husband had gone\naway to seek shelter for her and the child, and fire and food, and had\nnever returned; and also how, when she had fainted away, some one had\ncertainly stolen her baby and left a dead child in its place; and how\nthe good Malee's wife had befriended her, and taken her ever since to\nlive in her house. And when she had ended her story she began to cry.\n\nBut the Prince said to her, \"Be of good cheer; I will endeavor to\nrecover your husband and child for you: who knows but I may indeed be\nyour son, beautiful lady?\" And running home to the Ranee (his adopted\nmother), he said to her, \"Are you really my mother? Tell me truly; for\nthis I must know before the sun goes down.\" \"Why do you ask foolish\nquestions?\" she replied; \"have I not always treated you as a son?\"\n\"Yes,\" he said; \"but tell me the very truth, am I your own child, or\nthe child of some one else, adopted as yours? If you do not tell me, I\nwill kill myself.\" And so saying, he drew his sword. She replied,\n\"Stay, stay, and I will tell you the whole truth: the day before you\nwere born I had a little baby, but it died; and my servants took it to\nthe bottom of the garden to bury it, and there they found a beautiful\nwoman lying as dead, and beside her a living infant. You were that\nchild. They brought you to the palace, and I adopted you as my son,\nand left my baby in your stead.\" \"What became of my mother?\" he asked.\n\"I cannot tell,\" answered the Ranee; \"for, two days afterward, when I\nsent to the same place, she and the baby had both disappeared, and I\nhave never since heard of her.\"\n\nThe young Prince, on hearing this, said, \"There is in the head Malee's\nhouse a beautiful lady, whom the Malee's wife found in the jungle,\nfourteen years ago; that must be my mother. Let her be received here\nthis very day with all honor, for that is the only reparation that can\nnow be made to her.\"\n\nThe Ranee consented, and the young Prince went down to the Malee's\nhouse himself to fetch his mother to the palace.\n\nWith him he took a great retinue of people, and a beautiful palanquin\nfor her to go in, covered with rich trappings; also costly things for\nher to wear, and many jewels and presents for the good Malee's wife.\n\nWhen Panch-Phul Ranee had put on her son's gifts, and come out of the\nMalee's poor cottage to meet him, all the people said there had never\nbeen so royal-looking a queen. As gold and clear crystal are lovely,\nas mother-of-pearl is exquisitely fair and delicate-looking, so\nbeautiful, so fair, so delicate appeared Panch-Phul Ranee.\n\nHer son conducted her with much pomp and state to the palace, and did\nall in his power to honor her; and there she lived long very happily,\nand beloved by all.\n\nOne day the young Prince begged her to tell him again, from the\nbeginning, the story of her life, and as much as she knew of his\nfather's life; and so she did. And after that, he said to her, \"Be no\nlonger sad, dear mother, regarding my father's fate; for I will send\ninto all lands to gather tidings of him, and maybe in the end we shall\nfind him.\" And he sent people out to hunt for the Rajah all over the\nkingdom, and in all neighboring countries--to the north, to the south,\nto the east and to the west--but they found him not.\n\nAt last (after four years of unsuccessful search), when there seemed\nno hope of ever learning what had become of him, Panch-Phul Ranee's\nson came to see her, and said, \"Mother, I have sent into all lands\nseeking my father, but can hear no news of him. If there were only the\nslightest clue as to the direction in which he went, there would still\nbe some chance of tracing him, but that, I fear, cannot be got. Do you\nnot remember his having said anything of the way which he intended to\ngo when he left you?\" She answered, \"When your father went away, his\nwords to me were, 'I will go to fetch food for us both, and fire to\ncook it with, and inquire what this country is, and seek out a place\nof shelter for you. Do not be afraid--I shall soon return.' That was\nall he said, and then he went away, and I never saw him more.\"\n\n\"In what direction did he go from the foot of the garden?\" asked the\nPrince. \"He went,\" answered the Panch-Phul Ranee, \"toward that\nvillage of conjurors close by. I thought he was intending to ask some\nof them to give us food. But had he done so, he would certainly have\nreturned in a very short time.\"\n\n\"Do you think you should know my father, mother darling, if you were\nto see him again?\" asked the Prince. \"Yes,\" answered she, \"I should\nknow him again.\" \"What!\" he said, \"even though eighteen years have\ngone by since you saw him last? Even though age and sickness and want\nhad done their utmost to change him?\" \"Yes!\" she replied; \"his every\nfeature is so impressed on my heart that I should know him again\nanywhere or in any disguise.\"\n\n\"Then let us,\" he said, \"send for all those people in the direction of\nwhose houses he went away. Maybe they have detained him among them to\nthis day. It is but a chance, but we can hope for nothing more\ncertain.\"\n\nSo the Panch-Phul Ranee and her son sent down orders to the conjurors'\nvillage that every one of the whole band should come up to the palace\nthat afternoon--not a soul was to stay behind. And the dancers were to\ndance and the conjurors to play all their tricks for the amusement of\nthe palace inmates.\n\nThe people came. The nautch girls began to dance--running, jumping and\nflying here, there and everywhere, some up, some down, some round and\nround. The conjurors conjured and all began in different ways to amuse\nthe company. Among the rest was one wild, ragged-looking man, whose\nbusiness was to beat the drum. No sooner did the Panch-Phul Ranee set\neyes on him than she said to her son, \"Boy, that is your father!\"\n\"What, mother!\" he said, \"that wretched-looking man who is beating the\ndrum?\" \"The same,\" she answered.\n\nThe Prince said to his servants, \"Fetch that man here.\" And the Rajah\ncame toward them, so changed that not even his own mother knew him--no\none recognized him but his wife. For eighteen years he had been among\nthe nautch people; his hair was rough, his beard untrimmed, his face\nthin and worn, sunburnt and wrinkled; he wore a nose-ring and heavy\near-rings, such as the nautch people have; and his dress was a rough,\ncommon cumlee.[73] All traces of his former self seemed to have\ndisappeared. They asked him if he did not remember he had been a Rajah\nonce, and about his journey to Panch-Phul Ranee's country. But he\nsaid, No, he remembered nothing but how to beat the drum--Rub-a-dub!\ntat-tat! tom-tum! tom-tum! He thought he must have beaten it all his\nlife.\n\n [73] A coarse woolen blanket.\n\nThen the young Prince gave orders that all the nautch people should be\nput into jail until it could be discovered what part they had taken in\nreducing his father to so pitiable a state. And sending for the wisest\ndoctors in the kingdom, he said to them, \"Do your best and restore the\nhealth of this Rajah, who has to all appearance lost both memory and\nreason; and discover, if possible, what has caused these misfortunes\nto befall him.\" The doctors said, \"He has certainly had some potent\ncharm given to him, which has destroyed both his memory and reason,\nbut we will do our best to counteract its influence.\"\n\nAnd so they did. And their treatment succeeded so well that, after a\ntime, the Rajah entirely recovered his former senses. And they took\nsuch good care of him that in a little while he regained his health\nand strength also, and looked almost as well as ever.\n\nHe then found to his surprise that he, Panch-Phul Ranee, and their\nson, had all this time been living in his father's kingdom. His father\nwas so delighted to see him again that he was no longer unkind to him,\nbut treated him as a dearly beloved, long-lost son. His mother also\nwas overjoyed at his return, and they said to him, \"Since you have\nbeen restored to us again, why should you wander any more? Your wife\nand son are here; do you also remain here, and live among us for the\nrest of your days.\" But he replied, \"I have another wife--the\nCarpenter's daughter--who first was kind to me in my adopted country.\nI also have there nine hundred and ninety-eight talking wooden\nparrots, which I greatly prize. Let me first go and fetch them.\"\n\nThey said, \"Very well; go quickly and then return.\" So he mounted the\ntwo wooden parrots which had brought him from the Panch-Phul Ranee's\ncountry (and which had for eighteen years lived in the jungle close to\nthe palace), and returned to the land where his first wife lived, and\nfetched her and the nine hundred and ninety-eight remaining wooden\nparrots to his father's kingdom. Then his father said to him, \"Don't\nhave any quarreling with your half-brother after I am dead\" (for his\nhalf-brother was son of the old Rajah's favorite wife). \"I love you\nboth dearly, and will give each of you half of my kingdom.\" So he\ndivided the kingdom into two halves, and gave the one half to the\nPanch-Phul Ranee's husband, who was the son of his first wife, and the\nother half to the eldest son of his second but favorite wife.\n\nA short time after this arrangement was made, Panch-Phul Ranee said to\nher husband, \"I wish to see my father and mother again before I die;\nlet me go and see them.\" He answered, \"You shall go, and I and our son\nwill also go.\" So he called four of the wooden parrots--two to carry\nhimself and the Ranee, and two to carry their son. Each pair of\nparrots crossed their wings; the young Prince sat upon the two wings\nof one pair, and on the wings of the other pair sat his father and\nmother. Then they all rose up in the air, and the parrots carried them\n(as they had before carried the Rajah alone), up, up, up, on, on, on,\nover the Red Sea, and across the seven seas, until they reached the\nPanch-Phul Ranee's country.\n\nPanch-Phul Ranee's father saw them come flying through the air as\nquickly as shooting stars, and much wondering who they were, he sent\nout many of his nobles and chief officers to inquire.\n\nThe nobles went out to meet them, and called out, \"What great Rajah is\nthis who is dressed so royally, and comes flying through the air so\nfast? Tell us, that we may tell our Rajah.\"\n\nThe Rajah answered, \"Go and tell your master that this is Panch-Phul\nRanee's husband, come to visit his father-in-law.\" So they took that\nanswer back to the palace, but when the Rajah heard it, he said, \"I\ncannot tell what this means, for the Panch-Phul Ranee's husband died\nlong ago. It is twenty years since he fell upon the iron spears and\ndied; let us, however, all go and discover who this great Rajah really\nis.\" And he and all his court went out to meet the new-comers, just as\nthe parrots had alighted close to the palace gate. The Panch-Phul\nRanee took her son by the one hand and her husband by the other, and\nwalking to meet her father, said, \"Father, I have come to see you\nagain. This is my husband who died, and this boy is my son.\" Then all\nthe land was glad to see the Panch-Phul Ranee back, and the people\nsaid, \"Our Princess is the most beautiful Princess in the world, and\nher husband is as handsome as she is, and her son is a fair boy; we\nwill that they should always live among us and reign over us.\"\n\nWhen they had rested a little, the Panch-Phul Ranee told her father\nand mother the story of all her adventures from the time she and her\nhusband were left in the palkees in the jungle. And when they had\nheard it, her father said to the Rajah, her husband, \"You must never\ngo away again; for see, I have no son but you. You and your son must\nreign here after me. And behold all this great kingdom will I now give\nyou, if you will only stay with us; for I am old and weary of\ngoverning the land.\"\n\nBut the Rajah answered, \"I must return once again to my own country,\nand then I will stay with you as long as I live.\"\n\nSo, leaving the Panch-Phul Ranee and her son with the old Rajah and\nRanee, he mounted his parrots and once more returned to his father's\nland. And when he had reached it, he said to his mother, \"Mother, my\nfather-in-law has given me a kingdom ten thousand times larger than\nthis. So I have but returned to bid you farewell and fetch my first\nwife, and then I must go back to live in that other land.\" She\nanswered, \"Very well; so you are happy anywhere, I am happy too.\"\n\nHe then said to his half-brother, \"Brother, my father-in-law has given\nme all the Panch-Phul Ranee's country, which is very far away;\ntherefore I give up to you the half of this kingdom that my father\ngave to me.\" Then, bidding his father farewell, he took the\nCarpenter's daughter back with him (riding through the air on two of\nthe wooden parrots, and followed by the rest) to the Panch-Phul\nRanee's country, and there he and his two wives and his son lived very\nhappily all their mortal days.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nX.\n\n_HOW THE SUN, THE MOON AND THE WIND WENT OUT TO DINNER._\n\n\nOne day the Sun, the Moon and the Wind went out to dine with their\nuncle and aunt, the Thunder and Lightning. Their mother (one of the\nmost distant Stars you see far up in the sky) waited alone for her\nchildren's return.\n\nNow both the Sun and the Wind were greedy and selfish. They enjoyed\nthe great feast that had been prepared for them, without a thought of\nsaving any of it to take home to their mother; but the gentle Moon did\nnot forget her. Of every dainty dish that was brought round she placed\na small portion under one of her beautiful long finger-nails, that the\nStar might also have a share in the treat.[74]\n\n [74] See Notes at the end.\n\nOn their return, their mother, who had kept watch for them all night\nlong with her little bright eye, said, \"Well, children, what have you\nbrought home for me?\" Then the Sun (who was eldest) said, \"I have\nbrought nothing home for you. I went out to enjoy myself with my\nfriends, not to fetch a dinner for my mother!\" And the Wind said,\n\"Neither have I brought anything home for you, mother. You could\nhardly expect me to bring a collection of good things for you, when I\nmerely went out for my own pleasure.\" But the Moon said, \"Mother,\nfetch a plate; see what I have brought you.\" And shaking her hands she\nshowered down such a choice dinner as never was seen before.\n\nThen the Star turned to the Sun and spoke thus: \"Because you went out\nto amuse yourself with your friends, and feasted and enjoyed yourself\nwithout any thought of your mother at home, you shall be cursed.\nHenceforth, your rays shall ever be hot and scorching, and shall burn\nall that they touch. And men shall hate you and cover their heads when\nyou appear.\"\n\n(And that is why the Sun is so hot to this day.)\n\nThen she turned to the Wind and said: \"You also, who forgot your\nmother in the midst of your selfish pleasures, hear your doom. You\nshall always blow in the hot, dry weather, and shall parch and shrivel\nall living things. And men shall detest and avoid you from this very\ntime.\"\n\n(And that is why the Wind in the hot weather is still so\ndisagreeable.)\n\nBut to the Moon she said: \"Daughter, because you remembered your\nmother, and kept for her a share in your own enjoyment, from\nhenceforth you shall be ever cool and calm and bright. No noxious\nglare shall accompany your pure rays, and men shall always call you\n'blessed.'\"\n\n(And that is why the Moon's light is so soft and cool and beautiful\neven to this day.)\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXI.\n\n_SINGH RAJAH AND THE CUNNING LITTLE JACKALS._\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in a great jungle, there lived a great Lion. He was\nRajah of all the country round; and every day he used to leave his\nden, in the deepest shadow of the rocks, and roar with a loud, angry\nvoice; and when he roared, the other animals in the jungle, who were\nall his subjects, got very much frightened and ran here and there; and\nSingh Rajah would pounce upon them and kill them, and gobble them up\nfor his dinner.\n\nThis went on for a long, long time, until, at last, there were no\nliving creatures left in the jungle but two little Jackals--a Rajah\nJackal and a Ranee Jackal--husband and wife.\n\nA very hard time of it the poor little Jackals had, running this way\nand that to escape the terrible Singh Rajah; and every day the little\nRanee Jackal would say to her husband, \"I am afraid he will catch us\nto-day; do you hear how he is roaring? Oh dear! oh dear!\" And he would\nanswer her, \"Never fear; I will take care of you. Let us run on a mile\nor two. Come, come quick, quick, quick.\" And they would both run away\nas fast as they could.\n\nAfter some time spent in this way, they found, however, one fine day,\nthat the Lion was so close upon them that they could not escape. Then\nthe little Ranee Jackal said, \"Husband, husband, I feel much\nfrightened. The Singh Rajah is so angry he will certainly kill us at\nonce. What can we do?\" But he answered, \"Cheer up; we can save\nourselves yet. Come, and I'll show you how we may manage it.\"\n\nSo what did these cunning little Jackals do but they went to the great\nLion's den; and when he saw them coming, he began to roar and shake\nhis mane, and he said, \"You little wretches, come and be eaten at\nonce! I have had no dinner for three whole days, and all that time I\nhave been running over hill and dale to find you. Ro-a-ar! Ro-a-ar!\nCome and be eaten, I say!\" and he lashed his tail and gnashed his\nteeth, and looked very terrible indeed. Then the Jackal Rajah,\ncreeping quite close up to him, said, \"Oh, great Singh Rajah, we all\nknow you are our master, and we would have come at your bidding long\nago; but indeed, sir, there is a much bigger Rajah even than you in\nthis jungle, and he tried to catch hold of us and eat us up, and\nfrightened us so much that we were obliged to run away.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" growled Singh Rajah. \"There is no king in this\njungle but me!\" \"Ah, sire,\" answered the Jackal, \"in truth one would\nthink so, for you are very dreadful. Your very voice is death. But it\nis as we say, for we, with our own eyes, have seen one with whom you\ncould not compete--whose equal you can no more be than we are\nyours--whose face is as flaming fire, his step as thunder, and his\npower supreme.\" \"It is impossible!\" interrupted the old Lion; \"but\nshow me this Rajah of whom you speak so much, that I may destroy him\ninstantly!\"\n\nThen the little Jackals ran on before him until they reached a great\nwell, and pointing down to his own reflection in the water, they said,\n\"See, sire, there lives the terrible king of whom we spoke.\" When\nSingh Rajah looked down the well, he became very angry, for he thought\nhe saw another Lion there. He roared and shook his great mane, and the\nshadow Lion shook his and looked terribly defiant. At last, beside\nhimself with rage at the violence of his opponent, Singh Rajah sprang\ndown to kill him at once, but no other Lion was there--only the\ntreacherous reflection--and the sides of the well were so steep that\nhe could not get out again to punish the two Jackals, who peeped over\nthe top. After struggling for some time in the deep water, he sank to\nrise no more. And the little Jackals threw stones down upon him from\nabove, and danced round and round the well, singing, \"Ao! Ao! Ao! Ao!\nThe King of the Forest is dead, is dead! We have killed the great Lion\nwho would have killed us! Ao! Ao! Ao! Ao! Ring-a-ting--ding-a-ting!\nRing-a-ting--ding-a-ting! Ao! Ao! Ao!\"[75]\n\n [75] See Notes at the end.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXII.\n\n_THE JACKAL, THE BARBER AND THE BRAHMIN WHO HAD SEVEN DAUGHTERS._\n\n\nA Barber and a Jackal once struck up a great friendship, which might\nhave continued to this day, had not the Jackal been so clever that the\nBarber never felt quite on equal terms with him, and suspected his\nfriend of playing him many tricks. But this he was not able to prove.\n\nOne day the Jackal said to the Barber, \"It would be a nice thing for\nus to have a garden of our own, in which we might grow as many\ncucumbers, pumpkins and melons as we like. Why should we not buy one?\"\n\nThe Barber answered, \"Very well; here is money. Do you go and buy us a\ngarden.\" So the Jackal took the Barber's money, and with it bought a\nfine garden, in which were cucumbers, pumpkins, melons, figs, and many\nother good fruits and vegetables. And he used to go there every day\nand feast to his heart's content. When, however, the Barber said to\nhim, \"What is the garden like which you bought with the money I gave\nyou?\" he answered, \"There are very fine plants in it, but there is no\nfruit upon them; when the fruit is ripe I will let you know.\" This\nreply satisfied the Barber, who inquired no further at that time.\n\nA little while afterward, the Barber again asked the Jackal about the\ngarden, saying, \"I see you go down to that garden every day; is the\nfruit getting ripe?\" \"Oh dear no, not yet,\" answered the Jackal; \"why,\nthe plants are only just coming into blossom.\"\n\nBut all this time there was a great deal of fruit in the garden, and\nthe Jackal went there every day and ate as much as he could.\n\nAgain, a third time, when some weeks had passed, the Barber said to\nhim, \"Is there no ripe fruit in our garden yet?\" \"No,\" said the\nJackal; \"the blossoms have only just fallen, but the fruit is forming.\nIn time we shall have a fine show of melons and figs there.\"\n\nThen the Barber began to think the Jackal was deceiving him, and\ndetermined to see and judge for himself. So next day, without saying\nanything about it, he followed him down to the garden.\n\nNow it happened that very day the Jackal had invited all his friends\nto come and feast there. All the animals in the neighboring jungle had\naccepted the invitation; there they came trooping by hundreds and\ndozens, and were very merry indeed--running here and there, and eating\nall the melons and cucumbers and figs and pumpkins in the place.\n\nThe Barber peeped over the hedge, and saw the assembled wild beasts,\nand his friend the Jackal entertaining them--talking to this one,\nlaughing with that, and eating with all. The good man did not dare to\nattack the intruders, as they were many and powerful. But he went home\nat once, very angry, muttering to himself, \"I'll be the death of that\nyoung jackanapes; he shall play no more pranks in my garden.\" And,\nwatching his opportunity, he returned there when the Jackal and all\nhis friends had left, and tied a long knife to the largest of the\ncucumbers that still remained; then he went home and said nothing of\nwhat he had seen.\n\nEarly next morning the Jackal thought to himself, \"I'll just run down\nto the garden and see if there are no cucumbers or melons left.\" So he\nwent there, and, picking out the largest of the cucumbers, began to\neat it. Quick as thought, the long knife, that was concealed by the\ncucumber leaves, ran into him, cutting his muzzle, his neck and his\nside.\n\n\"Ah, that nasty Barber!\" he cried; \"this must be his doing!\" And\ninstead of going home, he ran as fast as he could, very far, far, away\ninto the jungle, and stretching himself out on a great flat rock,\nprepared to die.\n\nBut he did not die. Only for three whole days the pain in his neck and\nside was so great that he could not move; moreover, he felt very weak\nfrom loss of blood.\n\nAt the end of the third day he tried to get up, but his own blood had\nsealed him to the stone! He endeavored to move it by his struggles,\nbut could not succeed. \"Oh dear! oh dear!\" he murmured; \"to think that\nI should recover from my wound, only to die such a horrible death as\nthis! Ah me! here is the punishment of dishonesty!\" And, having said\nthis, he began to weep. It chanced, however, that the god of Rain\nheard his lamentations, and taking pity on the unfortunate animal, he\nsent a kindly shower, which, wetting the stone, effected his release.\n\nNo sooner was the Jackal set free than he began to think what he could\ndo to earn a livelihood, since he did not dare return to the Barber's\nhouse. It was not long before a feasible plan struck him: all around\nwas the mud made by the recent rain; he placed a quantity of it in a\nsmall chattee, covered the top over carefully with leaves (as people\ndo jars of fresh butter), and took it into a neighboring village to\nsell.\n\nAt the door of one of the first houses to which he came stood a woman,\nto whom the Jackal said, \"Mahi, here is butter--beautiful fresh\nbutter! won't you buy some fresh butter?\" She answered, \"Are you sure\nit is quite fresh? Let me see it.\" But he replied, \"It is perfectly\nfresh; but if you open the chattee now, it will be all spoilt by the\ntime you want it. If you like to buy it, you may take it; if not, I\nwill sell it to some one else.\" The woman did want some fresh butter,\nand the chattee the Jackal carried on his head was carefully fastened\nup, as if what it contained was of the best; and she knew if she\nopened it, it might spoil before her husband returned home; besides,\nshe thought, if the Jackal had intended to deceive her, he would have\nbeen more pressing in asking her to buy it. So she said, \"Very well,\ngive me the chattee; here is money for you. You are sure it is the\nbest butter?\" \"It is the best of its kind,\" answered the Jackal; \"only\nbe sure you put it in some cool place, and don't open it till it is\nwanted.\" And taking the money, he ran away.\n\nA short time afterward the woman discovered how she had been cheated,\nand was very angry; but the Jackal was by that time far away, out of\nreach of punishment.\n\nWhen his money was spent, the Jackal felt puzzled as to how to get a\nliving, since no one would give him food and he could buy none.\nFortunately for him, just then one of the bullocks belonging to the\nvillage died. The Jackal found it lying dead by the road-side, and he\nbegan to eat it, and ate, and ate so much that at last he had got too\nfar into the animal's body to be seen by passers-by. Now the weather\nwas hot and dry. Whilst the Jackal was in it, the bullock's skin\ncrinkled up so tightly with the heat that it became too hard for him\nto bite through, and so he could not get out again.\n\nThe Mahars[76] of the village all came out to bury the dead bullock.\nThe Jackal, who was inside it, feared that if they caught him they\nwould kill him, and that if they did not discover him, he would be\nburied alive; so on their approach he called out, \"People, people,\ntake care how you touch me, for I am a great saint.\" The poor people\nwere very much frightened when they heard the dead bullock talking,\nand thought that some mighty spirit must indeed possess it.[77] \"Who\nare you, sir, and what do you want?\" they cried. \"I,\" answered the\nJackal, \"am a very holy saint. I am also the god of your village, and\nI am very angry with you because you never worship me nor bring me\nofferings.\" \"O my Lord,\" they cried, \"what offerings will please you?\nTell us only, and we will bring you whatever you like.\" \"Good,\" he\nreplied. \"Then you must fetch here plenty of rice, plenty of flowers\nand a nice fat chicken; place them as an offering beside me, and pour\na great deal of water over them, as you do at your most solemn feasts,\nand I will forgive you your sins.\" The Mahars did as they were\ncommanded. They placed some rice and flowers, and the best chicken\nthey could procure, beside the bullock, and poured water over it and\nthe offering. Then, no sooner did the dry, hard bullock's skin get\nwetted than it split in many places, and to the surprise of all his\nworshipers, the Jackal jumped out, seized the chicken in his mouth,\nand ran away with it through the midst of them into the jungle. The\nMahars ran after him over hedges and ditches for many, many miles, but\nhe got away in spite of them all.\n\n [76] The lowest caste, employed as scavengers in every village.\n\n [77] See Notes at the end.\n\nOn, on he ran--on, on, for a very long way--until at last he came to a\nplace where a little kid lived under a little sicakai[78] tree. All\nher relations and friends were away, and when she saw him coming she\nthought to herself, \"Unless I frighten this Jackal, he will eat me.\"\nSo she ran as hard as she could up against the sicakai tree, which\nmade all the branches shake and the leaves go rustle, rustle, rustle.\nAnd when the Jackal heard the rustling noise he got frightened, and\nthought it was all the little kid's friends coming to help her. And\nshe called out to him, \"Run away, Jackal, run away. Thousands and\nthousands of Jackals have run away at that sound--run away for your\nlife.\" And the Jackal was so frightened that he ran away. So, he who\nhad deceived so many was outwitted by a simple little kid!\n\n [78] _Acacia concinna._\n\nAfter this the Jackal found his way back to his own village, where the\nBarber lived, and there for some time he used to prowl round the\nhouses every night and live upon any bones he could find. The\nvillagers did not like his coming, but did not know how to catch him,\nuntil one night his old friend the Barber (who had never forgiven him\nfor stealing the fruit from the garden) caught him in a great net,\nhaving before made many unsuccessful attempts to do so. \"Aha!\" cried\nthe Barber, \"I've got you at last, my friend. You did not escape death\nfrom the cucumber-knife for nothing! you won't get away this time.\nHere, wife! wife! see what a prize I've got.\" The Barber's wife came\nrunning to the door, and the Barber gave her the Jackal (after he had\ntied all his four legs firmly together with a strong rope), and said\nto her, \"Take this animal into the house, and be sure you don't let\nhim escape, while I go and get a knife to kill him with.\"\n\nThe Barber's wife did as she was bid, and taking the Jackal into the\nhouse, laid him down on the floor. But no sooner had the Barber gone\nthan the Jackal said to her, \"Ah, good woman, your husband will return\ndirectly and put me to death. For the love of heaven, loosen the rope\nround my feet before he comes, for one minute only, and let me drink a\nlittle water from that puddle by the door, for my throat is parched\nwith thirst.\" \"No, no, friend Jackal,\" answered the Barber's wife. \"I\nknow well enough what you'll do. No sooner shall I have untied your\nfeet than you will run away, and when my husband returns and finds you\nare gone, he will beat me.\"\n\n\"Indeed, indeed, I will not run away,\" he replied. \"Ah, kind mother,\nhave pity on me, only for one little moment.\" Then the Barber's wife\nthought, \"Well, it is hard not to grant the poor beast's last request;\nhe will not live long enough to have many more pleasures.\" So she\nuntied the Jackal's legs and held him by a rope, that he might drink\nfrom the puddle. But quick as possible, he gave a jump and a twist\nand a pull, and, jerking the rope out of her hand, escaped once more\ninto the jungle.\n\nFor some time he roamed up and down, living on what he could get in\nthis village or that, until he had wandered very far away from the\ncountry where the Barber lived. At last one day, by chance, he passed\na certain cottage, in which there dwelt a very poor Brahmin, who had\nseven daughters.\n\nAs the Jackal passed by, the Brahmin was saying to himself, \"Oh dear\nme! what can I do for my seven daughters? I shall have to support them\nall my life, for they are much too poor ever to get married. If a dog\nor a jackal were to offer to take one off my hands, he should have\nher.\" Next day the Jackal called on the Brahmin, and said to him, \"You\nsaid yesterday, if a jackal or a dog were to offer to marry one of\nyour daughters, you would let him have her; will you, therefore accept\nme as a son-in-law?\"\n\nThe poor Brahmin felt very much embarrassed, but it was certain he had\nsaid the words, and therefore he felt in honor bound not to retract,\nalthough he had little dreamed of ever being placed in such a\npredicament. Just at that moment all the seven daughters began crying\nfor bread, and the father had no bread to give them. Observing this,\nthe Jackal continued, \"Let me marry one of your seven daughters and I\nwill take care of her. It will at least leave you one less to provide\nfor, and I will see that she never needs food.\" Then the Brahmin's\nheart was softened, and he gave the Jackal his eldest daughter in\nmarriage, and the Jackal took her home to his den in the high rocks.\n\nNow you will say there never was a Jackal so clever as this. Very\ntrue, for this was not a common Jackal, or he could never have done\nall that I have told you. This Jackal was, in fact, a great Rajah in\ndisguise, who, to amuse himself, took the form of a Jackal; for he was\na great magician as well as a great prince.\n\nThe den to which he took the Brahmin's daughter looked like quite a\ncommon hole in the rocks on the outside, but inside it was a splendid\npalace, adorned with silver, and gold, and ivory and precious stones.\nBut even his own wife did not know that he was not always a Jackal,\nfor the Rajah never took his human form except every morning very\nearly, when he used to take off the jackal skin and wash it and brush\nit, and put it on again.\n\nAfter he and his wife, the Brahmin's daughter, had lived up in their\nhome in the rocks happily for some time, who should the Jackal see one\nday but his father-in-law, the old Brahmin, climbing up the hill to\ncome and pay him a visit. The Jackal was vexed to see the Brahmin, for\nhe knew he was very poor, and thought he had most likely come to beg;\nand so it was. The Brahmin said to him, \"Son-in-law, let me come into\nyour cave and rest a little while. I want to ask you to help me, for I\nam very poor and much in need of help.\"\n\n\"Don't go into my cave,\" said the Jackal; \"it is but a poor hole, not\nfit for you to enter\" (for he did not wish his father-in-law to see\nhis fine palace); \"but I will call my wife, that you may see I have\nnot eaten her up, and she and you and I will talk over the matter, and\nsee what we can do for you.\"\n\nSo the Brahmin, the Brahmin's daughter and the Jackal all sat down on\nthe hill-side together, and the Brahmin said, \"I don't know what to do\nto get food for myself, my wife and my six daughters. Son-in-law\nJackal, cannot you help me?\" \"It is a difficult business,\" answered\nthe Jackal, \"but I'll do what I can for you;\" and he ran to his cave\nand fetched a large melon, and gave it to the Brahmin, saying,\n\"Father-in-law, you must take this melon, and plant it in your garden,\nand when it grows up sell all the fruit you find upon it, and that\nwill bring you in some money.\" So the Brahmin took the melon home with\nhim and planted it in his garden.\n\nBy next day the melon that the Jackal had given him had grown up in\nthe Brahmin's garden into a fine plant, covered with hundreds of\nbeautiful ripe melons. The Brahmin, his wife and family were overjoyed\nat the sight. And all the neighbors were astonished, and said, \"How\nfast that fine melon plant has grown in the Brahmin's garden!\"\n\nNow it chanced that a woman who lived in a house close by wanted some\nmelons, and seeing what fine ones these were, she went down at once to\nthe Brahmin's house and bought two or three from the Brahmin's wife.\nShe took them home with her and cut them open; but then, lo and\nbehold! marvel of marvels! what a wonderful sight astonished her!\nInstead of the thick white pulp she expected to see, the whole of the\ninside of the melon was composed of diamonds, rubies and emeralds, and\nall the seeds were enormous pearls. She immediately locked her door,\nand taking with her all the money she had, ran back to the Brahmin's\nwife and said to her, \"Those were very good melons you sold me; I like\nthem so much that I will buy all the others on your melon plant.\" And\ngiving her the money, she took home all the rest of the melons. Now\nthis cunning woman told none of her friends of the treasure she had\nfound, and the poor, stupid Brahmin and his family did not know what\nthey had lost, for they had never thought of opening any of the\nmelons; so that for all the precious stones they sold they only got a\nfew pice, which was very hard. Next day, when they looked out of the\nwindow, the melon plant was again covered with fine ripe melons, and\nagain the woman who had bought those which had grown the day before\ncame and bought them all. And this went on for several days. There\nwere so many melons, and all the melons were so full of precious\nstones, that the woman who bought them had enough to fill the whole of\none room in her house with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls.\n\nAt last, however, the wonderful melon plant began to wither, and when\nthe woman came to buy melons one morning, the Brahmin's wife was\nobliged to say to her, in a sad voice, \"Alas! there are no more melons\non our melon plant.\" And the woman went back to her own house very\nmuch disappointed.\n\nThat day the Brahmin and his wife and children had no money in the\nhouse to buy food with, and they all felt very unhappy to think that\nthe fine melon plant had withered. But the Brahmin's youngest\ndaughter, who was a clever girl, thought, \"Though there are no more\nmelons fit to sell on our melon plant, perhaps I may be able to find\none or two shriveled ones, which, if cooked, will give us something\nfor dinner.\" So she went out to look, and searching carefully amongst\nthe thick leaves, found two or three withered little melons still\nremaining. These she took into the house and began cutting them up to\ncook, when--more wonderful than wonderful!--within each little melon\nshe found a number of small emeralds, rubies, diamonds and pearls! The\ngirl called her father and mother, and her five sisters, crying, \"See\nwhat I have found! See these precious stones and pearls. I dare say\ninside all the melons we sold there were as good or better than these.\nNo wonder that woman was so anxious to buy them all! See, father--see,\nmother--see, sisters!\"\n\nThen they were all overjoyed to see the treasure, but the Brahmin\nsaid, \"What a pity we have lost all the benefit of my son-in-law the\nJackal's good gift by not knowing its worth! I will go at once to that\nwoman, and try and make her give us back the melons she took.\"\n\nSo he went to the melon-buyer's house, and said to her, \"Give me back\nthe melons you took from me, who did not know their worth.\" She\nanswered, \"I don't know what you mean.\" He replied, \"You were very\ndeceitful; you bought melons full of precious stones from us poor\npeople, who did not know what they were worth, and you only paid for\nthem the price of common melons: give me some of them back, I pray\nyou.\" But she said, \"I bought common melons from your wife, and made\nthem all into common soup long ago; therefore talk no further nonsense\nabout jewels, but go about your business.\" And she turned him out of\nthe house. Yet all this time she had a whole roomful of the emeralds,\ndiamonds, rubies and pearls that she had found in the melons the\nBrahmin's wife had sold her.\n\nThe Brahmin returned home and said to his wife, \"I cannot make that\nwoman give me back any of the melons you sold her; but give me the\nprecious stones our daughter has just found, and I will sell them to\na jeweler and bring home some money.\" So he went to the town, and\ntook the precious stones to a jeweler, and said to him, \"What will you\ngive me for these?\" But no sooner did the jeweler see them than he\nsaid, \"How could such a poor man as you become possessed of such\nprecious stones? You must have stolen them: you are a thief! You have\nstolen these from my shop, and now come to sell them to me!\"\n\n\"No, no, sir; indeed no, sir,\" cried the Brahmin. \"Thief, thief!\"\nshouted the jeweler. \"In truth, no sir,\" said the Brahmin; \"my\nson-in-law, the Jackal, gave me a melon plant, and in one of the\nmelons I found these jewels.\" \"I don't believe a word you say,\"\nscreamed the jeweler (and he began beating the Brahmin, whom he held\nby the arm); \"give up those jewels which you have stolen from my\nshop.\" \"No, I won't,\" roared the Brahmin; \"oh! oh-o! oh-o-o! don't\nbeat me so; I didn't steal them.\" But the jeweler was determined to\nget the jewels; so he beat the Brahmin and called the police, who came\nrunning up to his assistance, and shouted till a great crowd of people\nhad collected round his shop. Then he said to the Brahmin, \"Give me up\nthe jewels you stole from me, or I'll give you to the police, and you\nshall be put in jail.\" The Brahmin tried to tell his story about his\nson-in-law, the Jackal, but of course nobody believed him; and he was\nobliged to give the precious stones to the jeweler in order to escape\nthe police, and to run home as fast as he could. And every one thought\nthe jeweler was very kind to let him off so easily.\n\nAll his family were very unhappy when they heard what had befallen\nhim. But his wife said, \"You had better go again to our son-in-law,\nthe Jackal, and see what he can do for us.\" So next day the Brahmin\nclimbed the hill again, as he had done before, and went to call upon\nthe Jackal. When the Jackal saw him coming he was not very well\npleased. So he went to meet him, and said, \"Father-in-law, I did not\nexpect to see you again so soon.\" \"I merely came to see how you were,\"\nanswered the Brahmin, \"and to tell you how poor we are; and how glad\nwe should be of any help you can give us.\" \"What have you done with\nall the melons I gave you?\" asked the Jackal. \"Ah,\" answered the\nBrahmin, \"that is a sad story!\" And beginning at the beginning, he\nrelated how they had sold almost all the melons without knowing their\nvalue; and how the few precious stones they had found had been taken\nfrom him by the jeweler. When the Jackal heard this he laughed very\nmuch, and said, \"I see it is no use giving such unfortunate people as\nyou gold or jewels, for they will only bring you into trouble. Come,\nI'll give you a more useful present.\" So, running into his cave, he\nfetched thence a small chattee, and gave it to the Brahmin, saying,\n\"Take this chattee; whenever you or any of the family are hungry, you\nwill always find in it as good a dinner as this.\" And putting his paw\ninto the chattee, he extracted thence currie and rice, pilau,[79] and\nall sorts of good things, enough to feast a hundred men; and the more\nhe took out of the chattee, the more remained inside.\n\n [79] Meat cooked with almonds, raisins and spice.\n\nWhen the Brahmin saw the chattee and smelt the good dinner, his eyes\nglistened for joy; and he embraced the Jackal, saying, \"Dear\nson-in-law, you are the only support of our house.\" And he took his\nnew present carefully home with him.\n\nAfter this, for some time, the whole family led a very happy life,\nfor they never wanted good food; every day the Brahmin, his wife and\nhis six daughters found inside the chattee a most delicious dinner;\nand every day, when they had dined, they placed it on a shelf, to find\nit replenished when next it was needed.\n\nBut it happened that hard by there lived another Brahmin, a very great\nman, who was much in the Rajah's confidence; and this man smelt daily\nthe smell of a very nice dinner, which puzzled him a good deal. The\nrich Brahmin thought it smelt even nicer than his own dinner, for\nwhich he paid so much, and yet it seemed to come from the poor\nBrahmin's little cottage. So one day he determined to find out all\nabout it; and, going to call on his neighbor, he said to him, \"Every\nday, at about twelve o'clock, I smell such a very nice dinner--much\nnicer than my own; and it seems to come from your house. You must live\non very good things, I think, although you seem to every one to be so\nvery poor.\"\n\nThen, in the pride of his heart, the poor Brahmin invited his rich\nneighbor to come and dine with him, and lifting the magic chattee down\nfrom the shelf, took out of it such delicate fare as the other had\nnever before tasted. And in an evil hour he proceeded to tell his\nfriend of the wondrous properties of the chattee, which his\nson-in-law, the Jackal, had given him, and how it never was empty. No\nsooner had the great man learnt all this than he went to the Rajah,\nand said to him, \"There is a poor Brahmin in the town who possesses a\nwonderful chattee, which is always filled with the most delicious\ndinner. I should not feel authorized to deprive him of it; but if it\npleased your Highness to take it from him, he could not complain.\"\nThe Rajah, hearing this, determined to see and taste for himself. So\nhe said, \"I should very much like to see this chattee with my own\neyes.\" And he accompanied the rich Brahmin to the poor Brahmin's\nhouse. The poor Brahmin was overjoyed at being noticed by the Rajah\nhimself, and gladly exhibited the various excellences of the chattee;\nbut no sooner did the Rajah taste the dinner it contained than he\nordered his guards to seize it and take it away to the palace, in\nspite of the Brahmin's tears and protestations. Thus, for a second\ntime, he lost the benefit of his son-in-law's gift.\n\nWhen the Rajah had gone, the Brahmin said to his wife, \"There is\nnothing to be done but to go again to the Jackal, and see if he can\nhelp us.\" \"If you don't take care, you'll put him out of all patience\nat last,\" answered she. \"I can't think why you need have gone talking\nabout our chattee!\"\n\nWhen the Jackal heard the Brahmin's story, he became very cross, and\nsaid, \"What a stupid old man you were to say anything about the\nchattee! But see, here is another, which may aid you to get back the\nfirst. Take care of it, for this is the last time I will help you.\"\nAnd he gave the Brahmin a chattee, in which was a stout stick tied to\na very strong rope. \"Take this,\" he said, \"into the presence of those\nwho deprived you of my other gifts, and when you open the chattee,\ncommand the stick to beat them; this it will do so effectually that\nthey will gladly return you what you have lost; only take care not to\nopen the chattee when you are alone, or the stick that is in it will\npunish your rashness.\"\n\nThe Brahmin thanked his son-in-law, and took away the chattee, but he\nfound it hard to believe all that had been said. So, going through the\njungle on his way home, he uncovered it, just to peep in and see if\nthe stick were really there. No sooner had he done this than out\njumped the rope, out jumped the stick; the rope seized him and bound\nhim to a tree, and the stick beat him, and beat him, and beat him,\nuntil he was nearly killed. \"Oh dear! oh dear!\" screamed the Brahmin;\n\"what an unlucky man I am! Oh dear! oh dear! stop, please stop! good\nstick, stop! what a very good stick this is!\" But the stick would not\nstop, but beat him so much that he could hardly crawl home again.\n\nThen the Brahmin put the rope and stick back again into the chattee,\nand sent to his rich neighbor and to the Rajah, and said to them, \"I\nhave a new chattee, much better than the old one; do come and see what\na fine one it is.\" And the rich Brahmin and the Rajah thought, \"This\nis something good; doubtless there is a choice dinner in this chattee\nalso, and we will take it from this foolish man, as we did the other.\"\nSo they went down to meet the Brahmin in the jungle, taking with them\nall their followers and attendants. Then the Brahmin uncovered his\nchattee, saying, \"Beat, stick, beat! beat them every one!\" and the\nstick jumped out, and the rope jumped out, and the rope caught hold of\nthe Rajah and the rich Brahmin and all their attendants, and tied them\nfast to the trees that grew around, and the stick ran from one to\nanother, beating, beating, beating--beating the Rajah, beating his\ncourtiers--beating the rich Brahmin, beating his attendants, and\nbeating all their followers; while the poor Brahmin cried with all his\nmight, \"Give me back my chattee! give me back my chattee!\"\n\nAt this the Rajah and his people were very much frightened, and\nthought they were going to be killed. And the Rajah said to the\nBrahmin, \"Take away your stick, only take away your stick, and you\nshall have back your chattee.\" So the Brahmin put the stick and rope\nback into the chattee, and the Rajah returned him the dinner-making\nchattee. And all the people felt very much afraid of the Brahmin, and\nrespected him very much.\n\nThen he took the chattee containing the rope and stick to the house of\nthe woman who had bought the melons, and the rope caught her and the\nstick beat her; and the Brahmin cried, \"Return me those melons! return\nme those melons!\" And the woman said, \"Only make your stick stop\nbeating me and you shall have back all the melons.\" So he ordered the\nstick back into the chattee, and she returned him them forthwith--a\nwhole roomful of melons full of diamonds, pearls, emeralds and rubies.\n\nThe Brahmin took them home to his wife, and going into the town, with\nthe help of his good stick, forced the jeweler who had deprived him of\nthe little emeralds, rubies, diamonds and pearls he had taken to sell\nto give them back to him again, and having accomplished this, he\nreturned to his family; and from that time they all lived very\nhappily. Then, one day, the Jackal's wife invited her six sisters to\ncome and pay her a visit. Now the youngest sister was more clever than\nany of the others; and it happened that, very early in the morning,\nshe saw her brother-in-law, the Jackal, take off the jackal skin and\nwash it and brush it, and hang it up to dry; and when he had taken\noff the jackal-skin coat, he looked the handsomest prince that ever\nwas seen. Then his little sister-in-law ran, quickly and quietly, and\nstole away the jackal-skin coat, and threw it on the fire and burnt\nit. And she awoke her sister, and said, \"Sister, sister, your husband\nis no longer a jackal; see, that is he standing by the door.\" So the\nJackal Rajah's wife ran to the door to meet her husband, and because\nthe jackal's skin was burnt, and he could wear it no longer, he\ncontinued to be a man for the rest of his life, and gave up playing\nall jackal-like pranks; and he and his wife, and his father and mother\nand sisters-in-law, lived very happily all the rest of their days.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXIII.\n\n_TIT FOR TAT._\n\n\nThere once lived a Camel and a Jackal who were great friends. One day\nthe Jackal said to the Camel, \"I know that there is a fine field of\nsugar-cane on the other side of the river. If you will take me across,\nI'll show you the place. This plan will suit me as well as you. You\nwill enjoy eating the sugar-cane, and I am sure to find many crabs,\nbones and bits of fish by the river-side, on which to make a good\ndinner.\"\n\nThe Camel consented and swam across the river, taking the Jackal, who\ncould not swim, on his back. When they reached the other side, the\nCamel went to eating the sugar-cane, and the Jackal ran up and down\nthe river bank devouring all the crabs, bits of fish and bones he\ncould find.\n\nBut being so much smaller an animal, he had made an excellent meal\nbefore the Camel had eaten more than two or three mouthfuls; and no\nsooner had he finished his dinner than he ran round and round the\nsugar-cane field, yelping and howling with all his might.\n\nThe villagers heard him, and thought, \"There is a Jackal among the\nsugar-canes; he will be scratching holes in the ground and spoiling\nthe roots of the plants.\" And they all went down to the place to drive\nhim away. But when they got there they found to their surprise not\nonly a Jackal, but a Camel who was eating the sugar-canes! This made\nthem very angry, and they caught the poor Camel and drove him from the\nfield and beat him and beat him, until he was nearly dead.\n\nWhen they had gone, the Jackal said to the Camel, \"We had better go\nhome.\" And the Camel said, \"Very well; then jump upon my back, as you\ndid before.\"\n\nSo the Jackal jumped upon the Camel's back, and the Camel began to\nrecross the river. When they had got well into the water, the Camel\nsaid, \"This is a pretty way in which you have treated me, friend\nJackal. No sooner had you finished your own dinner than you must go\nyelping about the place loud enough to arouse the whole village, and\nbring all the villagers down to beat me black and blue, and turn me\nout of the field before I had eaten two mouthfuls! What in the world\ndid you make such a noise for?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said the Jackal. \"It is a custom I have. I always like\nto sing a little after dinner.\"\n\nThe Camel waded on through the river. The water reached up to his\nknees--then above them--up, up, up, higher and higher, until he was\nobliged to swim. Then turning to the Jackal, he said, \"I feel very\nanxious to roll.\" \"Oh, pray don't; why do you wish to do so?\" asked\nthe Jackal. \"I don't know,\" answered the Camel. \"It is a custom I\nhave. I always like to have a little roll after dinner.\" So saying, he\nrolled over in the water, shaking the Jackal off as he did so. And the\nJackal was drowned, but the Camel swam safely ashore.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXIV.\n\n_THE BRAHMIN, THE TIGER AND THE SIX JUDGES._\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a Brahmin, who was walking along the road, came upon\nan iron cage, in which a great Tiger had been shut up by the villagers\nwho caught him.\n\nAs the Brahmin passed by, the Tiger called out and said to him,\n\"Brother Brahmin, brother Brahmin, have pity on me, and let me out of\nthis cage for one minute only to drink a little water, for I am dying\nof thirst.\" The Brahmin answered, \"No, I will not; for if I let you\nout of the cage you will eat me.\"\n\n\"Oh, father of mercy,\" answered the Tiger, \"in truth that will I not.\nI will never be so ungrateful; only let me out, that I may drink some\nwater and return.\" Then the Brahmin took pity on him and opened the\ncage door; but no sooner had he done so than the Tiger, jumping out,\nsaid, \"Now, I will eat you first and drink the water afterward.\" But\nthe Brahmin said, \"Only do not kill me hastily. Let us first ask the\nopinion of six, and if all of them say it is just and fair that you\nshould put me to death, then I am willing to die.\" \"Very well,\"\nanswered the Tiger, \"it shall be as you say; we will first ask the\nopinion of six.\"\n\nSo the Brahmin and the Tiger walked on till they came to a Banyan\ntree; and the Brahmin said to it, \"Banyan tree, Banyan tree, hear and\ngive judgment.\" \"On what must I give judgment?\" asked the Banyan tree.\n\"This Tiger,\" said the Brahmin, \"begged me to let him out of his cage\nto drink a little water, and he promised not to hurt me if I did so;\nbut now, that I have let him out, he wishes to eat me. Is it just that\nhe should do so or no?\"\n\nThe Banyan tree answered, \"Men often come to take shelter in the cool\nshade under my boughs from the scorching rays of the sun; but when\nthey have rested, they cut and break my pretty branches and wantonly\nscatter my leaves. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men are an\nungrateful race.\"\n\nAt these words the Tiger would have instantly killed the Brahmin; but\nthe Brahmin said, \"Tiger, Tiger, you must not kill me yet, for you\npromised that we should first hear the judgment of six.\" \"Very well,\"\nsaid the Tiger, and they went on their way. After a little while they\nmet a Camel. \"Sir Camel, Sir Camel,\" cried the Brahmin, \"hear and give\njudgment.\" \"On what shall I give judgment?\" asked the Camel. And the\nBrahmin related how the Tiger had begged him to open the cage door,\nand promised not to eat him if he did so; and how he had afterward\ndetermined to break his word, and asked if that were just or not. The\nCamel replied, \"When I was young and strong, and could do much work,\nmy master took care of me and gave me good food; but now that I am\nold, and have lost all my strength in his service, he overloads me and\nstarves me, and beats me without mercy. Let the Tiger eat the man, for\nmen are an unjust and cruel race.\"\n\nThe Tiger would then have killed the Brahmin, but the latter said,\n\"Stop, Tiger, for we must first hear the judgment of six.\"\n\nSo they both went again on their way. At a little distance they found\na Bullock lying by the road-side. The Brahmin said to him, \"Brother\nBullock, brother Bullock, hear and give judgment.\" \"On what must I\ngive judgment?\" asked the Bullock. The Brahmin answered, \"I found this\nTiger in a cage, and he prayed me to open the door and let him out to\ndrink a little water, and promised not to kill me if I did so; but\nwhen I had let him out he resolved to put me to death. Is it fair he\nshould do so or no?\" The Bullock said, \"When I was able to work my\nmaster fed me well and tended me carefully, but now I am old he has\nforgotten all I did for him, and left me by the road-side to die. Let\nthe Tiger eat the man, for men have no pity.\"\n\nThree out of the six had given judgment against the Brahmin, but still\nhe did not lose all hope, and determined to ask the other three.\n\nThey next met an Eagle flying through the air, to whom the Brahmin\ncried, \"O Eagle, great Eagle, hear and give judgment?\" \"On what must I\ngive judgment?\" asked the Eagle. The Brahmin stated the case, but the\nEagle answered, \"Whenever men see me they try to shoot me; they climb\nthe rocks and steal away my little ones. Let the Tiger eat the man,\nfor men are the persecutors of the earth.\"\n\nThen the Tiger began to roar, and said, \"The judgment of all is\nagainst you, O Brahmin.\" But the Brahmin answered, \"Stay yet a little\nlonger, for two others must first be asked.\" After this they saw an\nAlligator, and the Brahmin related the matter to him, hoping for a\nmore favorable verdict. But the Alligator said, \"Whenever I put my\nnose out of the water men torment me and try to kill me. Let the Tiger\neat the man, for as long as men live we shall have no rest.\"\n\nThe Brahmin gave himself up as lost; but again he prayed the Tiger to\nhave patience and let him ask the opinion of the sixth judge. Now the\nsixth was a Jackal. The Brahmin told his story, and said to him,\n\"Mama[80] Jackal, mama Jackal, say what is your judgment?\" The Jackal\nanswered, \"It is impossible for me to decide who is in the right and\nwho in the wrong unless I see the exact position in which you were\nwhen the dispute began. Show me the place.\" So the Brahmin and the\nTiger returned to the place where they first met, and the Jackal went\nwith them. When they got there, the Jackal said, \"Now, Brahmin, show\nme exactly where you stood.\" \"Here,\" said the Brahmin, standing by the\niron tiger-cage. \"Exactly there, was it?\" asked the Jackal. \"Exactly\nhere,\" replied the Brahmin. \"Where was the Tiger, then?\" asked the\nJackal. \"In the cage,\" answered the Tiger. \"How do you mean?\" said the\nJackal; \"how were you within the cage? which way were you looking?\"\n\"Why, I stood so,\" said the Tiger, jumping into the cage, \"and my head\nwas on this side.\" \"Very good,\" said the Jackal, \"but I cannot judge\nwithout understanding the whole matter exactly. Was the cage door open\nor shut?\" \"Shut and bolted,\" said the Brahmin. \"Then shut and bolt\nit,\" said the Jackal.\n\n [80] Uncle.\n\nWhen the Brahmin had done this, the Jackal said, \"Oh, you wicked and\nungrateful Tiger! when the good Brahmin opened your cage door, is to\neat him the only return you would make? Stay there, then, for the rest\nof your days, for no one will ever let you out again. Proceed on your\njourney, friend Brahmin. Your road lies that way and mine this.\"\n\nSo saying, the Jackal ran off in one direction, and the Brahmin went\nrejoicing on his way in the other.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXV.\n\n_THE SELFISH SPARROW AND THE HOUSELESS CROWS._\n\n\nA sparrow once built a nice little house for herself, and lined it\nwell with wool and protected it with sticks, so that it equally\nresisted the summer sun and the winter rains. A Crow who lived close\nby had also built a house, but it was not such a good one, being only\nmade of a few sticks laid one above another on the top of a prickly\npear hedge. The consequence was, that one day, when there was an\nunusually heavy shower, the Crow's nest was washed away, while the\nSparrow's was not at all injured.\n\nIn this extremity the Crow and her mate went to the Sparrow, and said,\n\"Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and give us shelter, for the wind\nblows and the rain beats, and the prickly pear hedge thorns stick into\nour eyes.\" But the Sparrow answered, \"I'm cooking the dinner; I cannot\nlet you in now; come again presently.\" In a little while the Crows\nreturned, and said, \"Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and give us\nshelter, for the wind blows and the rain beats, and the prickly pear\nhedge thorns stick into our eyes.\" The Sparrow answered, \"I'm eating\nmy dinner; I cannot let you in now; come again presently.\" The Crows\nflew away, but in a little while returned, and cried once more,\n\"Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and give us shelter, for the wind\nblows and the rain beats, and the prickly pear hedge thorns stick into\nour eyes.\" The Sparrow replied, \"I'm washing the dishes; I cannot let\nyou in now; come again presently.\" The Crows waited a while and then\ncalled out, \"Sparrow, Sparrow, have pity on us and give us shelter,\nfor the wind blows and the rain beats, and the prickly pear hedge\nthorns stick into our eyes.\" But the Sparrow would not let them in;\nshe only answered, \"I'm sweeping the floor; I cannot let you in now;\ncome again presently.\" Next time the Crows came and cried, \"Sparrow,\nSparrow, have pity on us and give us shelter, for the wind blows and\nthe rain beats, and the prickly pear hedge thorns stick into our\neyes.\" She answered, \"I'm making the beds; I cannot let you in now;\ncome again presently.\" So, on one pretence or another, she refused to\nhelp the poor birds. At last, when she and her children had had their\ndinner, and she had prepared and put away the dinner for next day, and\nhad put all the children to bed and gone to bed herself, she cried to\nthe Crows, \"You may come in now, and take shelter for the night.\" The\nCrows came in, but they were much vexed at having been kept out so\nlong in the wind and the rain, and when the Sparrow and all her family\nwere asleep, the one said to the other, \"This selfish Sparrow had no\npity on us; she gave us no dinner, and would not let us in till she\nand all her children were comfortably in bed; let us punish her.\" So\nthe two Crows took all the nice dinner the Sparrow had prepared for\nherself and her children to eat next day, and flew away with it.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXVI.\n\n_THE VALIANT CHATTEE-MAKER._\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in a violent storm of thunder, lightning, wind and\nrain, a Tiger crept for shelter close to the wall of an old woman's\nhut. This old woman was very poor, and her hut was but a tumble-down\nplace, through the roof of which the rain came drip, drip, drip on\nmore sides than one. This troubled her much, and she went running\nabout from side to side, dragging first one thing and then another out\nof the way of the leaky places in the roof, and as she did so she kept\nsaying to herself, \"Oh dear! oh dear! how tiresome this is! I'm sure\nthe roof will come down! If an elephant, or a lion, or a tiger were to\nwalk in, he wouldn't frighten me half so much as this perpetual\ndripping.\" And then she would begin dragging the bed and all the other\nthings in the room about again, to get them out of the way of the wet.\nThe Tiger, who was crouching down just outside, heard all that she\nsaid, and thought to himself, \"This old woman says she would not be\nafraid of an elephant, or a lion, or a tiger, but that this perpetual\ndripping frightens her more than all. What can this 'perpetual\ndripping' be?--it must be something very dreadful.\" And hearing her\nimmediately afterward dragging all the things about the room again,\nhe said to himself, \"What a terrible noise! Surely that must be the\n'_perpetual dripping_.'\"\n\nAt this moment a Chattee-maker,[81] who was in search of his donkey,\nwhich had strayed away, came down the road. The night being very cold,\nhe had, truth to say, taken a little more toddy than was good for him,\nand seeing, by the light of a flash of lightning, a large animal lying\ndown close to the old woman's hut, he mistook it for the donkey he was\nlooking for. So, running up to the Tiger, he seized hold of it by one\near, and commenced beating, kicking and abusing it with all his might\nand main. \"You wretched creature!\" he cried, \"is this the way you\nserve me, obliging me to come out and look for you in such pouring\nrain and on such a dark night as this? Get up instantly, or I'll break\nevery bone in your body;\" so he went on scolding and thumping the\nTiger with his utmost power, for he had worked himself up into a\nterrible rage. The Tiger did not know what to make of it all, but he\nbegan to feel quite frightened, and said to himself, \"Why, this must\nbe the 'perpetual dripping;' no wonder the old woman said she was more\nafraid of it than of an elephant, a lion, or a tiger, for it gives\nmost dreadfully hard blows.\"\n\n [81] Potter.\n\nThe Chattee-maker, having made the Tiger get up, got on his back and\nforced him to carry him home, kicking and beating him the whole way,\nfor all this time he fancied he was on his donkey; and then he tied\nhis fore feet and his head firmly together, and fastened him to a post\nin front of his house, and when he had done this he went to bed.\n\nNext morning, when the Chattee-maker's wife got up and looked out of\nthe window, what did she see but a great big Tiger tied up in front of\ntheir house, to the post to which they usually fastened the donkey:\nshe was very much surprised, and running to her husband, awoke him,\nsaying, \"Do you know what animal you fetched home last night?\" \"Yes,\nthe donkey to be sure,\" he answered. \"Come and see,\" said she, and she\nshowed him the great Tiger tied to the post. The Chattee-maker at this\nwas no less astonished than his wife, and felt himself all over to\nfind if the Tiger had not wounded him. But, no! there he was safe and\nsound, and there was the Tiger tied to the post, just as he had\nfastened it up the night before.\n\nNews of the Chattee-maker's exploit soon spread through the village,\nand all the people came to see him and hear him tell how he had caught\nthe Tiger and tied it to the post; and this they thought so wonderful\nthat they sent a deputation to the Rajah, with a letter to tell him\nhow a man of their village had, alone and unarmed, caught a great\nTiger and tied it to a post.\n\nWhen the Rajah read the letter he also was much surprised, and\ndetermined to go in person and see this astonishing sight. So he sent\nfor his horses and carriages, his lords and attendants, and they all\nset off together to look at the Chattee-maker and the Tiger he had\ncaught.\n\nNow the Tiger was a very large one, and had long been the terror of\nall the country round, which made the whole matter still more\nextraordinary; and all this being represented to the Rajah, he\ndetermined to confer all possible honor on the valiant Chattee-maker.\nSo he gave him houses and lands, and as much money as would fill a\nwell, made him a lord of his court, and conferred on him the command\nof ten thousand horse.\n\nIt came to pass, shortly after this, that a neighboring Rajah, who had\nlong had a quarrel with this one, sent to announce his intention of\ngoing instantly to war with him; and tidings were at the same time\nbrought that the Rajah who sent the challenge had gathered a great\narmy together on the borders, and was prepared at a moment's notice to\ninvade the country.\n\nIn this dilemma no one knew what to do. The Rajah sent for all his\ngenerals, and inquired of them which would be willing to take command\nof his forces and oppose the enemy. They all replied that the country\nwas so ill-prepared for the emergency, and the case was apparently so\nhopeless, that they would rather not take the responsibility of the\nchief command. The Rajah knew not whom to appoint in their stead.\nThen some of his people said to him, \"You have lately given the\ncommand of ten thousand horse to the valiant Chattee-maker who caught\nthe Tiger: why not make him commander-in-chief? A man who could catch\na Tiger and tie him to a post, must surely be more courageous and\nclever than most.\" \"Very well,\" said the Rajah, \"I will make him\ncommander-in-chief.\" So he sent for the Chattee-maker and said to\nhim, \"In your hands I place all the power of the kingdom; you must\nput our enemies to flight for us.\" \"So be it,\" answered the\nChattee-maker; \"but, before I lead the whole army against the enemy,\nsuffer me to go by myself and examine their position, and, if\npossible, find out their numbers and strength.\"\n\nThe Rajah consented, and the Chattee-maker returned home to his wife,\nand said: \"They have made me commander-in-chief, which is a very\ndifficult post for me to fill, because I shall have to ride at the\nhead of all the army, and you know I never was on a horse in my life.\nBut I have succeeded in gaining a little delay, as the Rajah has given\nme permission to go first alone and reconnoitre the enemy's camp. Do\nyou therefore provide a very quiet pony, for you know I cannot ride,\nand I will start to-morrow morning.\"\n\nBut, before the Chattee-maker had started, the Rajah sent over to him\na most magnificent charger richly caparisoned, which he begged he\nwould ride when going to see the enemy's camp. The Chattee-maker was\nfrightened almost out of his life, for the charger that the Rajah had\nsent him was very powerful and spirited, and he felt sure that even if\nhe ever got on it, he should very soon tumble off; however, he did not\ndare to refuse it, for fear of offending the Rajah by not accepting\nhis present. So he sent back to him a message of thanks, and said to\nhis wife, \"I cannot go on the pony, now that the Rajah has sent me\nthis fine horse; but how am I ever to ride it?\" \"Oh, don't be\nfrightened,\" she answered; \"you've only got to get upon it, and I will\ntie you firmly on, so that you cannot tumble off, and if you start at\nnight, no one will see that you are tied on.\" \"Very well,\" he said. So\nthat night his wife brought the horse that the Rajah had sent him to\nthe door. \"Indeed,\" said the Chattee-maker, \"I can never get into that\nsaddle, it is so high up.\" \"You must jump,\" said his wife. So he tried\nto jump several times, but each time he jumped he tumbled down again.\n\"I always forget when I am jumping,\" said he, \"which way I ought to\nturn.\" \"Your face must be toward the horse's head,\" she answered. \"To\nbe sure, of course,\" he cried, and giving one great jump he jumped\ninto the saddle, but with his face toward the horse's tail. \"This\nwon't do at all,\" said his wife as she helped him down again; \"try\ngetting on without jumping.\" \"I never can remember,\" he continued,\n\"when I have got my left foot in the stirrup, what to do with my right\nfoot or where to put it.\" \"That must go in the other stirrup,\" she\nanswered; \"let me help you.\" So, after many trials, in which he\ntumbled down very often, for the horse was fresh and did not like\nstanding still, the Chattee-maker got into the saddle; but no sooner\nhad he got there than he cried, \"Oh, wife, wife! tie me very firmly as\nquickly as possible, for I know I shall jump down if I can.\" Then she\nfetched some strong rope and tied his feet firmly into the stirrups,\nand fastened one stirrup to the other, and put another rope round his\nwaist and another round his neck, and fastened them to the horse's\nbody and neck and tail.\n\nWhen the horse felt all these ropes about him he could not imagine\nwhat queer creature had got upon his back, and he began rearing and\nkicking and prancing, and at last set off full gallop, as fast as he\ncould tear, right across country. \"Wife, wife!\" cried the\nChattee-maker, \"you forgot to tie my hands.\" \"Never mind,\" said she;\n\"hold on by the mane.\" So he caught hold of the horse's mane as firmly\nas he could. Then away went horse, away went Chattee-maker--away,\naway, away, over hedges, over ditches, over rivers, over plains--away,\naway, like a flash of lightning--now this way, now that--on, on, on,\ngallop, gallop, gallop--until they came in sight of the enemy's camp.\n\nThe Chattee-maker did not like his ride at all, and when he saw where\nit was leading him he liked it still less, for he thought the enemy\nwould catch him and very likely kill him. So he determined to make one\ndesperate effort to be free, and stretching out his hand as the horse\nshot past a young banyan tree, seized hold of it with all his might,\nhoping that the resistance it offered might cause the ropes that tied\nhim to break. But the horse was going at his utmost speed, and the\nsoil in which the banyan tree grew was loose, so that when the\nChattee-maker caught hold of it and gave it such a violent pull, it\ncame up by the roots, and on he rode as fast as before, with the tree\nin his hand.\n\nAll the soldiers in the camp saw him coming, and having heard that an\narmy was to be sent against them, made sure that the Chattee-maker was\none of the vanguard. \"See,\" cried they, \"here comes a man of gigantic\nstature on a mighty horse! He rides at full speed across the country,\ntearing up the very trees in his rage! He is one of the opposing\nforce; the whole army must be close at hand. If they are such as he,\nwe are all dead men.\" Then, running to their Rajah, some of them cried\nagain, \"Here comes the whole force of the enemy\" (for the story had by\nthis time become exaggerated); \"they are men of gigantic stature,\nmounted on mighty horses; as they come they tear up the very trees in\ntheir rage; we can oppose men, but not monsters such as these.\" These\nwere followed by others, who said, \"It is all true,\" for by this time\nthe Chattee-maker had got pretty near the camp; \"they're coming!\nthey're coming! let us fly! let us fly! fly, fly for your lives!\" And\nthe whole panic-stricken multitude fled from the camp (those who had\nseen no cause for alarm going because the others did, or because they\ndid not care to stay by themselves), after having obliged their Rajah\nto write a letter to the one whose country he was about to invade to\nsay that he would not do so, and propose terms of peace, and to sign\nit and seal it with his seal. Scarcely had all the people fled from\nthe camp when the horse on which the Chattee-maker was came galloping\ninto it, and on his back rode the Chattee-maker, almost dead from\nfatigue, with the banyan tree in his hand: just as he reached the camp\nthe ropes by which he was tied broke, and he fell to the ground. The\nhorse stood still, too tired with his long run to go farther. On\nrecovering his senses, the Chattee-maker found, to his surprise, that\nthe whole camp, full of rich arms, clothes and trappings, was entirely\ndeserted. In the principal tent, moreover, he found a letter addressed\nto his Rajah, announcing the retreat of the invading army and\nproposing terms of peace.\n\nSo he took the letter, and returned home with it as fast as he could,\nleading his horse all the way, for he was afraid to mount him again.\nIt did not take him long to reach his house by the direct road, for\nwhilst riding he had gone a more circuitous journey than was\nnecessary, and he got there just at nightfall. His wife ran out to\nmeet him, overjoyed at his speedy return. As soon as he saw her, he\nsaid, \"Ah, wife, since I saw you last I've been all round the world,\nand had many wonderful and terrible adventures. But never mind that\nnow: send this letter quickly to the Rajah by a messenger, and send\nthe horse also that he sent for me to ride. He will then see, by the\nhorse looking so tired, what a long ride I've had; and if he is sent\non beforehand, I shall not be obliged to ride him up to the palace\ndoor to-morrow morning, as I otherwise should, and that would be very\ntiresome, for most likely I should tumble off.\" So his wife sent the\nhorse and the letter to the Rajah, and a message that her husband\nwould be at the palace early next morning, as it was then late at\nnight. And next day he went down there, as he had said he would; and\nwhen the people saw him coming, they said, \"This man is as modest as\nhe is brave; after having put our enemies to flight, he walks quite\nsimply to the door, instead of riding here in state, as another man\nwould.\" For they did not know that the Chattee-maker walked because he\nwas afraid to ride.\n\nThe Rajah came to the palace door to meet him, and paid him all\npossible honor. Terms of peace were agreed upon between the two\ncountries, and the Chattee-maker was rewarded for all he had done by\nbeing given twice as much rank and wealth as he had before, and he\nlived very happily all the rest of his life.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXVII.\n\n_THE RAKSHAS' PALACE._\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a Rajah who was left a widower with two\nlittle daughters. Not very long after his first wife died he married\nagain, and his second wife did not care for her step-children, and was\noften unkind to them; and the Rajah, their father, never troubled\nhimself to look after them, but allowed his wife to treat them as she\nliked. This made the poor girls very miserable, and one day one of\nthem said to the other, \"Don't let us remain any longer here; come\naway into the jungle, for nobody here cares whether we go or stay.\" So\nthey both walked off into the jungle, and lived for many days on the\njungle fruits. At last, after they had wandered on for a long while,\nthey came to a fine palace which belonged to a Rakshas, but both the\nRakshas and his wife were out when they got there. Then one of the\nPrincesses said to the other, \"This fine palace, in the midst of the\njungle, can belong to no one but a Rakshas, but the owner has\nevidently gone out; let us go in and see if we can find anything to\neat.\" So they went into the Rakshas' house, and finding some rice,\nboiled and ate it. Then they swept the room and arranged all the\nfurniture in the house tidily. But hardly had they finished doing so\nwhen the Rakshas and his wife returned home. Then the two Princesses\nwere so frightened that they ran up to the top of the house and hid\nthemselves on the flat roof, from whence they could look down on one\nside into the inner courtyard of the house, and from the other could\nsee the open country. The house-top was a favorite resort of the\nRakshas and his wife. Here they would sit upon the hot summer\nevenings; here they winnowed the grain and hung out the clothes to\ndry; and the two Princesses found a sufficient shelter behind some\nsheaves of corn that were waiting to be threshed. When the Rakshas\ncame into the house, he looked round and said to his wife, \"Somebody\nhas been arranging the house, everything in it is so clean and tidy.\nWife, did you do this?\" \"No,\" she said; \"I don't know who can have\ndone all this.\" \"Some one also has been sweeping the courtyard,\"\ncontinued the Rakshas. \"Wife, did you sweep the courtyard?\" \"No,\" she\nanswered, \"I did not do it. I don't know who did.\" Then the Rakshas\nwalked round and round several times with his nose up in the air,\nsaying, \"Some one is here now. I smell flesh and blood! Where can they\nbe?\" \"Stuff and nonsense!\" cried his wife. \"You smell blood indeed!\nWhy, you have just been killing and eating a hundred thousand people.\nI should wonder if you didn't still smell flesh and blood!\" They went\non quarreling thus until the Rakshas said, \"Well, never mind; I don't\nknow how it is, but I'm very thirsty; let's come and drink some\nwater.\" So both the Rakshas and his wife went to a well which was\nclose to the house, and began letting down jars into it, and drawing\nup the water and drinking it. And the Princesses, who were on the top\nof the house, saw them. Now the youngest of the two Princesses was a\nvery wise girl, and when she saw the Rakshas and his wife by the well,\nshe said to her sister, \"I will do something now that will be good for\nus both;\" and, running down quickly from the top of the house, she\ncrept close behind the Rakshas and his wife as they stood on tip-toe\nmore than half over the side of the well, and, catching hold of one of\nthe Rakshas' heels and one of his wife's, gave each a little push, and\ndown they both tumbled into the well and were drowned--the Rakshas and\nthe Rakshas' wife! The Princess then returned to her sister and said,\n\"I have killed the Rakshas.\" \"What, both?\" cried her sister. \"Yes,\nboth,\" she said. \"Won't they come back?\" said her sister. \"No, never,\"\nanswered she.\n\nThe Rakshas being thus killed, the two Princesses took possession of\nthe house, and lived there very happily for a long time. In it they\nfound heaps and heaps of rich clothes and jewels, and gold and silver,\nwhich the Rakshas had taken from people he had murdered; and all round\nthe house were folds for the flocks and sheds for the herds of cattle\nwhich the Rakshas owned. Every morning the youngest Princess used to\ndrive out the flocks and herds to pasturage, and return home with them\nevery night, while the eldest stayed at home, cooked the dinner and\nkept the house; and the youngest Princess, who was the cleverest,\nwould often say to her sister, on going away for the day, \"Take care,\nif you see any stranger (be it man, woman or child) come by the house,\nto hide, if possible, that nobody may know of our living here; and if\nany one should call out and ask for a drink of water, or any poor\nbeggar pray for food, before you give it him be sure you put on\nragged clothes and cover your face with charcoal, and make yourself\nlook as ugly as possible, lest, seeing how fair you are, he should\nsteal you away, and we never meet again.\" \"Very well,\" the other\nPrincess would answer, \"I will do as you advise.\"\n\nBut a long time passed, and no one ever came by that way. At last one\nday, after the youngest Princess had gone out, a young Prince, the son\nof a neighboring Rajah, who had been hunting with his attendants for\nmany days in the jungles, came near the place when searching for water\n(for he and his people were tired with hunting, and had been seeking\nall through the jungle for a stream of water, but could find none).\nWhen the Prince saw the fine palace standing all by itself, he was\nvery much astonished, and said, \"It is a strange thing that any one\nshould have built such a house as this in the depths of the forest.\nLet us go in; the owners will doubtless give us a drink of water.\"\n\"No, no, do not go,\" cried his attendants; \"this is most likely the\nhouse of a Rakshas.\" \"We can but see,\" answered the Prince. \"I should\nscarcely think anything very terrible lived here, for there is not a\nsound stirring nor a living creature to be seen.\" So he began tapping\nat the door, which was bolted, and crying, \"Will whoever owns this\nhouse give me and my people some water to drink, for the sake of kind\ncharity?\" But nobody answered, for the Princess, who heard him, was\nbusy up in her room, blacking her face with charcoal and covering her\nrich dress with rags. Then the Prince got impatient and shook the\ndoor, saying, angrily, \"Let me in, whoever you are! If you don't, I'll\nforce the door open.\" At this the poor little Princess got dreadfully\nfrightened; and having blacked her face and made herself look as ugly\nas possible, she ran down stairs with a pitcher of water, and\nunbolting the door, gave the Prince the pitcher to drink from; but she\ndid not speak, for she was afraid. Now the Prince was a very clever\nman, and as he raised the pitcher to his mouth to drink the water, he\nthought to himself, \"This is a very strange-looking creature who has\nbrought me this jug of water. She would be pretty, but that her face\nseems to want washing, and her dress also is very untidy. What can\nthat black stuff be on her face and hands? it looks very unnatural.\"\nAnd so thinking to himself, instead of drinking the water, he threw it\nin the Princess' face! The Princess started back with a little cry,\nwhilst the water, trickling down her face, washed off the charcoal,\nand showed her delicate features and beautiful, fair complexion. The\nPrince caught hold of her hand, and said, \"Now tell me true, who are\nyou? where do you come from? Who are your father and mother? and why\nare you here alone by yourself in the jungle? Answer me, or I'll cut\nyour head off.\" And he made as if he would draw his sword. The\nPrincess was so terrified she could hardly speak, but as best she\ncould she told how she was the daughter of a Rajah, and had run away\ninto the jungle because of her cruel step-mother, and, finding the\nhouse, had lived there ever since; and having finished her story, she\nbegan to cry. Then the Prince said to her, \"Pretty lady, forgive me\nfor my roughness; do not fear; I will take you home with me, and you\nshall be my wife.\" But the more he spoke to her the more frightened\nshe got. So frightened that she did not understand what he said, and\ncould do nothing but cry. Now she had said nothing to the Prince\nabout her sister, nor even told him that she had one, for she thought,\n\"This man says he will kill me; if he hears that I have a sister, he\nwill kill her too.\" So the Prince, who was really kind-hearted, and\nwould never have thought of separating the two little sisters who had\nbeen together so long, knew nothing at all of the matter, and only\nseeing she was too much alarmed even to understand gentle words, said\nto his servants, \"Place this lady in one of the palkees, and let us\nset off home.\" And they did so. When the Princess found herself shut\nup in the palkee, and being carried she knew not where, she thought\nhow terrible it would be for her sister to return home and find her\ngone, and determined, if possible, to leave some sign to show her\nwhich way she had been taken. Round her neck were many strings of\npearls. She untied them, and tearing her saree into little bits, tied\none pearl in each piece of the saree, that it might be heavy enough to\nfall straight to the ground; and so she went on, dropping one pearl\nand then another and another and another, all the way she went along,\nuntil they reached the palace where the Rajah and Ranee, the Prince's\nfather and mother, lived. She threw the last remaining pearl down just\nas she reached the palace gate. The old Rajah and Ranee were delighted\nto see the beautiful Princess their son had brought home; and when\nthey heard her story they said, \"Ah, poor thing! what a sad story! but\nnow she has come to live with us, we will do all we can to make her\nhappy.\" And they married her to their son with great pomp and\nceremony, and gave her rich dresses and jewels, and were very kind to\nher. But the Princess remained sad and unhappy, for she was always\nthinking about her sister, and yet she could not summon courage to\nbeg the Prince or his father to send and fetch her to the palace.\n\nMeantime the youngest Princess, who had been out with her flocks and\nherds when the Prince took her sister away, had returned home. When\nshe came back she found the door wide open and no one standing there.\nShe thought it very odd, for her sister always came every night to the\ndoor to meet her on her return. She went up stairs; her sister was not\nthere; the whole house was empty and deserted. There she must stay all\nalone, for the evening had closed in, and it was impossible to go\noutside and seek her with any hope of success. So all the night long\nshe waited, crying, \"Some one has been here, and they have stolen her\naway; they have stolen my darling away. O sister! sister!\" Next\nmorning, very early, going out to continue the search, she found one\nof the pearls belonging to her sister's necklace tied up in a small\npiece of saree; a little farther on lay another, and yet another, all\nalong the road the Prince had gone. Then the Princess understood that\nher sister had left this clue to guide her on her way, and she at once\nset off to find her again. Very, very far she went--a six months'\njourney through the jungle, for she could not travel fast, the many\ndays' walking tired her so much--and sometimes it took her two or\nthree days to find the next piece of saree with the pearl. At last she\ncame near a large town, to which it was evident her sister had been\ntaken. Now this young Princess was very beautiful indeed--as beautiful\nas she was wise--and when she got near the town she thought to\nherself, \"If people see me, they may steal me away, as they did my\nsister, and then I shall never find her again. I will therefore\ndisguise myself.\" As she was thus thinking she saw by the side of the\nroad the corpse of a poor old beggar woman, who had evidently died\nfrom want and poverty. The body was shriveled up, and nothing of it\nremained but the skin and bones. The Princess took the skin and washed\nit, and drew it on over her own lovely face and neck, as one draws a\nglove on one's hand. Then she took a long stick and began hobbling\nalong, leaning on it, toward the town. The old woman's skin was all\ncrumpled and withered, and people who passed by only thought, \"What an\nugly old woman!\" and never dreamed of the false skin and the\nbeautiful, handsome girl inside. So on she went, picking up the\npearls--one here, one there--until she found the last pearl just in\nfront of the palace gate. Then she felt certain her sister must be\nsomewhere near, but where she did not know. She longed to go into the\npalace and ask for her, but no guards would have let such a\nwretched-looking old woman enter, and she did not dare offer them any\nof the pearls she had with her, lest they should think she was a\nthief. So she determined merely to remain as close to the palace as\npossible, and wait till fortune favored her with the means of learning\nsomething further about her sister. Just opposite the palace was a\nsmall house belonging to a farmer, and the Princess went up to it and\nstood by the door. The farmer's wife saw her and said, \"Poor old\nwoman, who are you? what do you want? why are you here? Have you no\nfriends?\" \"Alas, no!\" answered the Princess. \"I am a poor old woman,\nand have neither father nor mother, son nor daughter, sister nor\nbrother, to take care of me; all are gone, and I can only beg my\nbread from door to door.\"\n\n\"Do not grieve, good mother,\" answered the farmer's wife, kindly. \"You\nmay sleep in the shelter of our porch, and I will give you some food.\"\nSo the Princess stayed there for that night and for many more; and\nevery day the good farmer's wife gave her food. But all this time she\ncould learn nothing of her sister.\n\nNow there was a large tank near the palace, on which grew some fine\nlotus plants, covered with rich crimson lotuses--the royal flower--and\nof these the Rajah was very fond indeed, and prized them very much. To\nthis tank (because it was the nearest to the farmer's house) the\nPrincess used to go every morning, very early, almost before it was\nlight, at about three o'clock, and take off the old woman's skin and\nwash it, and hang it out to dry, and wash her face and hands, and\nbathe her feet in the cool water, and comb her beautiful hair. Then\nshe would gather a lotus flower (such as she had been accustomed to\nwear in her hair from a child) and put it on, so as to feel for a few\nminutes like herself again! Thus she would amuse herself. Afterward,\nas soon as the wind had dried the old woman's skin, she put it on\nagain, threw away the lotus flower, and hobbled back to the farmer's\ndoor before the sun was up.\n\nAfter a time the Rajah discovered that some one had plucked some of\nhis favorite lotus flowers. People were set to watch, and all the wise\nmen in the kingdom put their heads together to try and discover the\nthief, but without avail. At last the excitement about this matter\nbeing very great, the Rajah's second son, a brave and noble young\nPrince (brother to him who had found the eldest Princess in the\nforest) said, \"I will certainly discover this thief.\" It chanced that\nseveral fine trees grew around the tank. Into one of these the young\nPrince climbed one evening (having made a sort of light thatched roof\nacross two of the boughs, to keep off the heavy dews), and there he\nwatched all the night through, but with no more success than his\npredecessors. There lay the lotus plants, still in the moonlight,\nwithout so much as a thieving wind coming by to break off one of the\nflowers. The Prince began to get very sleepy, and thought the\ndelinquent, whoever he might be, could not intend to return, when, in\nthe very early morning, before it was light, who should come down to\nthe tank but an old woman he had often seen near the palace gate.\n\"Aha!\" thought the Prince, \"this then is the thief; but what can this\nqueer old woman want with lotus flowers?\" Imagine his astonishment\nwhen the old woman sat down on the steps of the tank and began pulling\nthe skin off her face and arms, and from underneath the shriveled\nyellow skin came the loveliest face he had ever beheld! So fair, so\nfresh, so young, so gloriously beautiful, that, appearing thus\nsuddenly, it dazzled the Prince's eyes like a flash of golden\nlightning. \"Ah,\" thought he, \"can this be a woman or a spirit? a devil\nor an angel in disguise?\"\n\nThe Princess twisted up her glossy black hair, and, plucking a red\nlotus, placed it in it, and dabbled her feet in the water, and amused\nherself by putting round her neck a string of pearls that had been her\nsister's necklace. Then, as the sun was rising, she threw away the\nlotus, and covering her face and arms again with the withered skin,\nwent hastily away. When the Prince got home, the first thing he said\nto his parents was, \"Father, mother! I should like to marry that old\nwoman who stands all day at the farmer's gate, just opposite.\" \"What!\"\ncried they, \"the boy is mad! Marry that skinny old thing! You\ncannot--you are a King's son. Are there not enough Queens and\nPrincesses in the world, that you should wish to marry a wretched old\nbeggar-woman?\" But he answered, \"Above all things I should like to\nmarry that old woman. You know that I have ever been a dutiful and\nobedient son. In this matter, I pray you, grant me my desire.\" Then,\nseeing he was really in earnest about the matter, and that nothing\nthey could say would alter his mind, they listened to his urgent\nentreaties--not, however, without much grief and vexation--and sent\nout the guards, who fetched the old woman (who was really the Princess\nin disguise) to the palace, where she was married to the Prince as\nprivately and with as little ceremony as possible, for the family were\nashamed of the match.\n\nAs soon as the wedding was over, the Prince said to his wife, \"Gentle\nwife, tell me how much longer you intend to wear that old skin? You\nhad better take it off; do be so kind.\" The Princess wondered how he\nknew of her disguise, or whether it was only a guess of his; and she\nthought, \"If I take this ugly skin off, my husband will think me\npretty, and shut me up in the palace and never let me go away, so\nthat I shall not be able to find my sister again. No, I had better\nnot take it off.\" So she answered, \"I don't know what you mean. I am\nas all these years have made me; nobody can change their skin.\" Then\nthe Prince pretended to be very angry, and said, \"Take off that\nhideous disguise this instant, or I'll kill you.\" But she only bowed\nher head, saying, \"Kill me, then, but nobody can change their skin.\"\nAnd all this she mumbled as if she were a very old woman indeed, and\nhad lost all her teeth and could not speak plain. At this the Prince\nlaughed very much to himself, and thought, \"I'll wait and see how\nlong this freak lasts.\" But the Princess continued to keep on the old\nwoman's skin; only every morning, at about three o'clock, before it\nwas light, she would get up and wash it and put it on again. Then,\nsome time afterward, the Prince, having found this out, got up softly\none morning early, and followed her to the next room, where she had\nwashed the skin and placed it on the floor to dry, and stealing it,\nhe ran away with it and threw it on the fire. So the Princess, having\nno old woman's skin to put on, was obliged to appear in her own\nlikeness. As she walked forth, very sad at missing her disguise, her\nhusband ran to meet her, smiling and saying, \"How do you do, my dear?\nWhere is your skin now? Can't you take it off, dear?\" Soon the whole\npalace had heard the joyful news of the beautiful young wife that the\nPrince had won; and all the people, when they saw her, cried, \"Why\nshe is exactly like the beautiful Princess our young Rajah married,\nthe jungle lady.\" The old Rajah and Ranee were prouder than all of\ntheir daughter-in-law, and took her to introduce her to their eldest\nson's wife. Then no sooner did the Princess enter her sister-in-law's\nroom then she saw that in her she had found her lost sister, and they\nran into each other's arms. Great then was the joy of all, but the\nhappiest of all these happy people were the two Princesses.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXVIII.\n\n_THE BLIND MAN, THE DEAF MAN AND THE DONKEY._\n\n\nA Blind Man and a Deaf Man once entered into partnership. The Deaf Man\nwas to see for the Blind Man, and the Blind Man was to hear for the\nDeaf Man.\n\nOne day both went to a nautch[82] together. The Deaf Man said, \"The\ndancing is very good, but the music is not worth listening to;\" and\nthe Blind Man said, \"On the contrary, I think the music very good, but\nthe dancing is not worth looking at.\"\n\n [82] Musical and dancing entertainment.\n\nAfter this they went together for a walk in the jungle, and there they\nfound a Dhobee's donkey that had strayed away from its owner, and a\ngreat big chattee (such as Dhobees boil clothes in), which the donkey\nwas carrying with him.\n\nThe Deaf Man said to the Blind Man, \"Brother, here are a donkey and a\nDhobee's great big chattee, with nobody to own them! Let us take them\nwith us--they may be useful to us some day.\" \"Very well,\" said the\nBlind Man, \"we will take them with us.\" So the Blind Man and the Deaf\nMan went on their way, taking the donkey and the great big chattee\nwith them. A little farther on they came to an ant's nest, and the\nDeaf Man said to the Blind Man, \"Here are a number of very fine black\nants, much larger than any I ever saw before. Let us take some of them\nhome to show our friends.\" \"Very well,\" answered the Blind Man; \"we\nwill take them as a present to our friends.\" So the Deaf Man took a\nsilver snuff-box out of his pocket, and put four or five of the finest\nblack ants into it; which done, they continued their journey.\n\nBut before they had gone very far a terrible storm came on. It\nthundered and lightened and rained and blew with such fury that it\nseemed as if the whole heavens and earth were at war. \"Oh dear! oh\ndear!\" cried the Deaf Man, \"how dreadful this lightning is! Let us\nmake haste and get to some place of shelter.\" \"I don't see that it's\ndreadful at all,\" answered the Blind Man, \"but the thunder is very\nterrible; we had better certainly seek some place of shelter.\"\n\nNow, not far off was a lofty building, which looked exactly like a\nfine temple. The Deaf Man saw it, and he and the Blind Man resolved to\nspend the night there; and having reached the place, they went in and\nshut the door, taking the donkey and the great big chattee with them.\nBut this building, which they mistook for a temple, was in truth no\ntemple at all, but the house of a very powerful Rakshas; and hardly\nhad the Blind Man, the Deaf Man and the donkey got inside and fastened\nthe door than the Rakshas, who had been out, returned home. To his\nsurprise, he found the door fastened and heard people moving about\ninside his house. \"Ho! ho!\" cried he to himself, \"some men have got in\nhere, have they! I'll soon make mince-meat of them.\" So he began to\nroar in a voice louder than the thunder, and he cried, \"Let me into\nmy house this minute, you wretches; let me in, let me in, I say,\" and\nto kick the door and batter it with his great fists. But though his\nvoice was very powerful, his appearance was still more alarming,\ninsomuch that the Deaf Man, who was peeping at him through a chink in\nthe wall, felt so frightened that he did not know what to do. But the\nBlind Man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and went up to the\ndoor and called out, \"Who are you? and what do you mean by coming\nbattering at the door in this way and at this time of night?\"\n\n\"I'm a Rakshas,\" answered the Rakshas, angrily, \"and this is my house.\nLet me in this instant, or I'll kill you.\" All this time the Deaf Man,\nwho was watching the Rakshas, was shivering and shaking in a terrible\nfright, but the Blind Man was very brave (because he couldn't see),\nand he called out again, \"Oh, you're a Rakshas, are you! Well, if\nyou're Rakshas, I'm Bakshas; and Bakshas is as good as Rakshas.\"\n\"Bakshas!\" roared the Rakshas. \"Bakshas! Bakshas! What nonsense is\nthis? There is no such creature as a Bakshas!\" \"Go away,\" replied the\nBlind Man, \"and don't dare to make any further disturbance, lest I\npunish you with a vengeance; for know that I'm Bakshas! and Bakshas is\nRakshas' father.\" \"My father?\" answered the Rakshas. \"Heavens and\nearth! Bakshas and my father! I never heard such an extraordinary\nthing in my life. You my father; and in there! I never knew my father\nwas called Bakshas!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the Blind Man; \"go away instantly, I command you, for I\nam your father Bakshas.\" \"Very well,\" answered the Rakshas (for he\nbegan to get puzzled and frightened), \"but if you are my father, let\nme first see your face.\" (For he thought, \"Perhaps they are deceiving\nme.\") The Blind Man and the Deaf Man didn't know what to do; but at\nlast they opened the door a very tiny chink and poked the donkey's\nnose out. When the Rakshas saw it he thought to himself, \"Bless me,\nwhat a terribly ugly face my father Bakshas has!\" He then called out,\n\"O father Bakshas, you have a very big, fierce face; but people have\nsometimes very big heads and very little bodies. Pray let me see your\nbody as well as head before I go away.\" Then the Blind Man and the\nDeaf Man rolled the great, big Dhobee's chattee with a thundering\nnoise past the chink in the door, and the Rakshas, who was watching\nattentively, was very much surprised when he saw this great black\nthing rolling along the floor, and he thought, \"In truth, my father\nBakshas has a very big body as well as a big head. He's big enough to\neat me up altogether. I'd better go away.\" But still he could not help\nbeing a little doubtful, so he cried, \"O Bakshas, father Bakshas! you\nhave indeed got a very big head and a very big body; but do, before I\ngo away, let me hear you scream\" (for all Rakshas scream fearfully).\nThen the cunning Deaf Man (who was getting less frightened) pulled the\nsilver snuff-box out of his pocket, and took the black ants out of it,\nand put one black ant in the donkey's right ear, and another black ant\nin the donkey's left ear, and another and another. The ants pinched\nthe poor donkey's ears dreadfully, and the donkey was so hurt and\nfrightened he began to bellow as loud as he could, \"Eh augh! eh augh!\neh augh! augh! augh!\" and at this terrible noise the Rakshas fled away\nin a great fright, saying, \"Enough, enough, father Bakshas! the sound\nof your voice would make the most refractory obedient.\" And no sooner\nhad he gone than the Deaf Man took the ants out of the donkey's ears,\nand he and the Blind Man spent the rest of the night in peace and\ncomfort.\n\nNext morning the Deaf Man woke the Blind Man early, saying, \"Awake,\nbrother, awake; here we are indeed in luck! the whole floor is covered\nwith heaps of gold and silver and precious stones.\" And so it was, for\nthe Rakshas owned a vast amount of treasure, and the whole house was\nfull of it. \"That is a good thing,\" said the Blind Man. \"Show me where\nit is and I will help you to collect it.\" So they collected as much\ntreasure as possible and made four great bundles of it. The Blind Man\ntook one great bundle, the Deaf Man took another, and, putting the\nother two great bundles on the donkey, they started off to return\nhome. But the Rakshas, whom they had frightened away the night before,\nhad not gone very far off, and was waiting to see what his father\nBakshas might look like by daylight. He saw the door of his house open\nand watched attentively, when out walked--only a Blind Man, a Deaf Man\nand a donkey, who were all three laden with large bundles of his\ntreasure. The Blind Man carried one bundle, the Deaf Man carried\nanother bundle, and two bundles were on the donkey.\n\nThe Rakshas was extremely angry, and immediately called six of his\nfriends to help him kill the Blind Man, the Deaf Man and the donkey,\nand recover the treasure.\n\nThe Deaf Man saw them coming (seven great Rakshas, with hair a yard\nlong and tusks like an elephant's), and was dreadfully frightened; but\nthe Blind Man was very brave (because he couldn't see), and said,\n\"Brother, why do you lag behind in that way?\" \"Oh!\" answered the Deaf\nMan, \"there are seven great Rakshas with tusks like an elephant's\ncoming to kill us; what can we do?\" \"Let us hide the treasure in the\nbushes,\" said the Blind Man; \"and do you lead me to a tree; then I\nwill climb up first, and you shall climb up afterward, and so we shall\nbe out of their way.\" The Deaf Man thought this good advice; so he\npushed the donkey and the bundles of treasure into the bushes, and led\nthe Blind Man to a high soparee tree that grew close by; but he was a\nvery cunning man, this Deaf Man, and instead of letting the Blind Man\nclimb up first and following him, he got up first and let the Blind\nMan clamber after, so that he was farther out of harm's way than his\nfriend.\n\nWhen the Rakshas arrived at the place and saw them both perched out of\nreach in the soparee tree, he said to his friends, \"Let us get on each\nother's shoulders; we shall then be high enough to pull them down.\" So\none Rakshas stooped down, and the second got on his shoulders, and the\nthird on his, and the fourth on his, and the fifth on his, and the\nsixth on his; and the seventh and the last Rakshas (who had invited\nall the others) was just climbing up when the Deaf Man (who was\nlooking over the Blind Man's shoulder) got so frightened that in his\nalarm he caught hold of his friend's arm, crying, \"They're coming,\nthey're coming!\" The Blind Man was not in a very secure position, and\nwas sitting at his ease, not knowing how close the Rakshas were. The\nconsequence was, that when the Deaf Man gave him this unexpected push,\nhe lost his balance and tumbled down on to the neck of the seventh\nRakshas, who was just then climbing up. The Blind Man had no idea\nwhere he was, but thought he had got on to the branch of some other\ntree; and, stretching out his hand for something to catch hold of,\ncaught hold of the Rakshas' two great ears, and pinched them very hard\nin his surprise and fright. The Rakshas couldn't think what it was\nthat had come tumbling down upon him; and the weight of the Blind Man\nupsetting his balance, down he also fell to the ground, knocking down\nin their turn the sixth, fifth, fourth, third, second and first\nRakshas, who all rolled one over another, and lay in a confused heap\nat the foot of the tree together. Meanwhile the Blind Man called out\nto his friend, \"Where am I? what has happened? Where am I? where am\nI?\" The Deaf Man (who was safe up in the tree) answered, \"Well done,\nbrother! never fear! never fear! You're all right, only hold on tight.\nI'm coming down to help you.\" But he had not the least intention of\nleaving his place of safety. However, he continued to call out, \"Never\nmind, brother; hold on as tight as you can. I'm coming, I'm coming,\"\nand the more he called out, the harder the Blind Man pinched the\nRakshas' ears, which he mistook for some kind of palm branches. The\nsix other Rakshas, who had succeeded, after a good deal of kicking, in\nextricating themselves from their unpleasant position, thought they\nhad had quite enough of helping their friend, and ran away as fast as\nthey could; and the seventh, thinking from their going that the danger\nmust be greater than he imagined, and being moreover very much afraid\nof the mysterious creature that sat on his shoulders, put his hands to\nthe back of his ears and pushed off the Blind Man, and then (without\nstaying to see who or what he was) followed his six companions as fast\nas he could.\n\nAs soon as all the Rakshas were out of sight, the Deaf Man came down\nfrom the tree, and, picking up the Blind Man, embraced him, saying, \"I\ncould not have done better myself. You have frightened away all our\nenemies, but you see I came to help you as fast as possible.\" He then\ndragged the donkey and the bundles of treasure out of the bushes, gave\nthe Blind Man one bundle to carry, took the second himself, and put\nthe remaining two on the donkey, as before. This done, the whole party\nset off to return home. But when they had got nearly out of the jungle\nthe Deaf Man said to the Blind Man, \"We are now close to the village,\nbut if we take all this treasure home with us, we shall run great risk\nof being robbed. I think our best plan would be to divide it equally;\nthen you shall take care of your half, and I will take care of mine,\nand each one can hide his share here in the jungle, or wherever\npleases him best.\" \"Very well,\" said the Blind Man; \"do you divide\nwhat we have in the bundles into two equal portions, keeping one-half\nyourself and giving me the other.\" But the cunning Deaf Man had no\nintention of giving up half of the treasure to the Blind Man; so he\nfirst took his own bundle of treasure and hid it in the bushes, and\nthen he took the two bundles off the donkey and hid them in the\nbushes; and he took a good deal of treasure out of the Blind Man's\nbundle, which he also hid. Then, taking the small quantity that\nremained, he divided it into two equal portions, and placing half\nbefore the Blind Man and half in front of himself, said, \"There,\nbrother, is your share to do what you please with.\" The Blind Man put\nout his hand, but when he felt what a very little heap of treasure it\nwas, he got very angry, and cried, \"This is not fair--you are\ndeceiving me; you have kept almost all the treasure for yourself and\nonly given me a very little.\" \"Oh, oh! how can you think so?\" answered\nthe Deaf Man; \"but if you will not believe me, feel for yourself. See,\nmy heap of treasure is no larger than yours.\" The Blind Man put out\nhis hands again to feel how much his friend had kept; but in front of\nthe Deaf Man lay only a very small heap, no larger than what he had\nhimself received. At this he got very cross, and said, \"Come, come,\nthis won't do. You think you can cheat me in this way because I am\nblind; but I'm not so stupid as all that. I carried a great bundle of\ntreasure, you carried a great bundle of treasure, and there were two\ngreat bundles on the donkey. Do you mean to pretend that all that made\nno more treasure than these two little heaps! No, indeed; I know\nbetter than that.\" \"Stuff and nonsense!\" answered the Deaf Man. \"Stuff\nor no stuff,\" continued the other, \"you are trying to take me in, and\nI won't be taken in by you.\" \"No, I'm not,\" said the Deaf Man. \"Yes,\nyou are,\" said the Blind Man; and so they went on bickering, scolding,\ngrowling, contradicting, until the Blind Man got so enraged that he\ngave the Deaf Man a tremendous box on the ear. The blow was so violent\nthat it made the Deaf Man hear! The Deaf Man, very angry, gave his\nneighbor in return so hard a blow in the face that it opened the Blind\nMan's eyes!\n\nSo the Deaf Man could hear as well as see! and the Blind Man could see\nas well as hear! This astonished them both so much that they became\ngood friends at once. The Deaf Man confessed to having hidden the bulk\nof the treasure, which he thereupon dragged forth from its place of\nconcealment, and, having divided it equally, they went home and\nenjoyed themselves.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXIX.\n\n_MUCHIE LAL._\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Rajah and Ranee who had no children. Long\nhad they wished and prayed that the gods would send them a son, but it\nwas all in vain--their prayers were not granted. One day a number of\nfish were brought into the royal kitchen to be cooked for the Rajah's\ndinner, and amongst them was one little fish that was not dead, but\nall the rest were dead. One of the palace maid-servants seeing this,\ntook the little fish and put him in a basin of water. Shortly\nafterward the Ranee saw him, and thinking him very pretty, kept him as\na pet; and because she had no children she lavished all her affection\non the fish and loved him as a son; and the people called him Muchie\nRajah (the Fish Prince). In a little while Muchie Rajah had grown too\nlong to live in the small basin, so they put him in a larger one, and\nthen (when he grew too long for that) into a big tub. In time,\nhowever, Muchie Rajah became too large for even the big tub to hold\nhim; so the Ranee had a tank made for him in which he lived very\nhappily, and twice a day she fed him with boiled rice. Now, though the\npeople fancied Muchie Rajah was only a fish, this was not the case. He\nwas, in truth, a young Rajah who had angered the gods, and been by\nthem turned into a fish and thrown into the river as a punishment.\n\nOne morning, when the Ranee brought him his daily meal of boiled rice,\nMuchie Rajah called out to her and said, \"Queen Mother, Queen Mother,\nI am so lonely here all by myself! Cannot you get me a wife?\" The\nRanee promised to try, and sent messengers to all the people she knew,\nto ask if they would allow one of their children to marry her son, the\nFish Prince. But they all answered, \"We cannot give one of our dear\nlittle daughters to be devoured by a great fish, even though he is the\nMuchie Rajah and so high in your Majesty's favor.\"\n\nAt news of this the Ranee did not know what to do. She was so\nfoolishly fond of Muchie Rajah, however, that she resolved to get him\na wife at any cost. Again she sent out messengers, but this time she\ngave them a great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs,[83] and said to\nthem, \"Go into every land until you find a wife for my Muchie Rajah,\nand to whoever will give you a child to be the Muchie Ranee[84] you\nshall give this bag of gold mohurs.\" The messengers started on their\nsearch, but for some time they were unsuccessful: not even the beggars\nwere to be tempted to sell their children, fearing the great fish\nwould devour them. At last one day the messengers came to a village\nwhere there lived a Fakeer, who had lost his first wife and married\nagain. His first wife had had one little daughter, and his second wife\nalso had a daughter. As it happened, the Fakeer's second wife hated\nher little step-daughter, always gave her the hardest work to do and\nthe least food to eat, and tried by every means in her power to get\nher out of the way, in order that the child might not rival her own\ndaughter. When she heard of the errand on which the messengers had\ncome, she sent for them when the Fakeer was out, and said to them,\n\"Give me the bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little daughter\nto marry the Muchie Rajah.\" (\"For,\" she thought to herself, \"the great\nfish will certainly eat the girl, and she will thus trouble us no\nmore.\") Then, turning to her step-daughter, she said, \"Go down to the\nriver and wash your saree, that you may be fit to go with these\npeople, who will take you to the Ranee's court.\" At these words the\npoor girl went down to the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope\nof escape, as her father was from home. As she knelt by the\nriver-side, washing her saree and crying bitterly, some of her tears\nfell into the hole of an old Seven-headed Cobra, who lived on the\nriver-bank. This Cobra was a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden,\nhe put his head out of his hole, and said to her, \"Little girl, why do\nyou cry?\" \"Oh, sir,\" she answered, \"I am very unhappy, for my father\nis from home, and my step-mother has sold me to the Ranee's people to\nbe the wife of the Muchie Rajah, that great fish, and I know he will\neat me up.\" \"Do not be afraid, my daughter,\" said the Cobra; \"but take\nwith you these three stones and tie them up in the corner of your\nsaree;\" and so saying, he gave her three little round pebbles. \"The\nMuchie Rajah, whose wife you are to be, is not really a fish, but a\nRajah who has been enchanted. Your home will be a little room which\nthe Ranee has had built in the tank wall. When you are taken there,\nwait and be sure you don't go to sleep, or the Muchie Rajah will\ncertainly come and eat you up. But as you hear him coming rushing\nthrough the water, be prepared, and as soon as you see him throw this\nfirst stone at him; he will then sink to the bottom of the tank. The\nsecond time he comes, throw the second stone, when the same thing will\nhappen. The third time he comes, throw this third stone, and he will\nimmediately resume his human shape.\" So saying, the old Cobra dived\ndown again into his hole. The Fakeer's daughter took the stones and\ndetermined to do as the Cobra had told her, though she hardly believed\nit would have the desired effect.\n\n [83] A lac of gold mohurs is equal to about $750,000.\n\n [84] Fish Queen.\n\nWhen she reached the palace the Ranee spoke kindly to her, and said to\nthe messengers, \"You have done your errand well; this is a dear little\ngirl.\" Then she ordered that she should be let down the side of the\ntank in a basket to a little room which had been prepared for her.\nWhen the Fakeer's daughter got there, she thought she had never seen\nsuch a pretty place in her life (for the Ranee had caused the little\nroom to be very nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite); and\nshe would have felt very happy away from her cruel step-mother and all\nthe hard work she had been made to do, had it not been for the dark\nwater that lay black and unfathomable below the door, and the fear of\nthe terrible Muchie Rajah.\n\nAfter waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, and little waves\ncame dashing against the threshold; faster they came and faster, and\nthe noise got louder and louder, until she saw a great fish's head\nabove the water--Muchie Rajah was coming toward her open-mouthed. The\nFakeer's daughter seized one of the stones that the Cobra had given\nher and threw it at him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank;\na second time he rose and came toward her, and she threw the second\nstone at him, and he again sank down; a third time he came more\nfiercely than before, when, seizing a third stone, she threw it with\nall her force. No sooner did it touch him than the spell was broken,\nand there, instead of a fish, stood a handsome young Prince. The poor\nlittle Fakeer's daughter was so startled that she began to cry. But\nthe Prince said to her, \"Pretty maiden, do not be frightened. You have\nrescued me from a horrible thraldom, and I can never thank you enough;\nbut if you will be the Muchie Ranee, we will be married to morrow.\"\nThen he sat down on the door-step, thinking over his strange fate and\nwatching for the dawn.\n\nNext morning early several inquisitive people came to see if the\nMuchie Rajah had eaten up his poor little wife, as they feared he\nwould; what was their astonishment, on looking over the tank wall, to\nsee, not the Muchie Rajah, but a magnificent Prince! The news soon\nspread to the palace. Down came the Rajah, down came the Ranee, down\ncame all their attendants and dragged Muchie Rajah and the Fakeer's\ndaughter up the side of the tank in a basket; and when they heard\ntheir story there were great and unparalleled rejoicings. The Ranee\nsaid, \"So I have indeed found a son at last!\" And the people were so\ndelighted, so happy and so proud of the new Prince and Princess that\nthey covered all their path with damask from the tank to the palace,\nand cried to their fellows, \"Come and see our new Prince and Princess.\nWere ever any so divinely beautiful? Come see a right royal couple--a\npair of mortals like the gods!\" And when they reached the palace the\nPrince was married to the Fakeer's daughter.\n\nThere they lived very happily for some time. The Muchie Ranee's\nstep-mother, hearing what had happened, came often to see her\nstep-daughter, and pretended to be delighted at her good fortune; and\nthe Ranee was so good that she quite forgave all her step-mother's\nformer cruelty, and always received her very kindly. At last, one day,\nthe Muchie Ranee said to her husband, \"It is a weary while since I saw\nmy father. If you will give me leave, I should much like to visit my\nnative village and see him again.\" \"Very well,\" he replied, \"you may\ngo. But do not stay away long; for there can be no happiness for me\ntill you return.\" So she went, and her father was delighted to see\nher; but her step-mother, though she pretended to be very kind, was,\nin reality, only glad to think she had got the Ranee into her power,\nand determined, if possible, never to allow her to return to the\npalace again. One day, therefore, she said to her own daughter, \"It is\nhard that your step-sister should have become Ranee of all the land\ninstead of being eaten up by the great fish, while we gained no more\nthan a lac of gold mohurs. Do now as I bid you, that you may become\nRanee in her stead.\" She then went on to instruct her how that she\nmust invite the Ranee down to the river-bank, and there beg her to let\nher try on her jewels, and whilst putting them on give her a push and\ndrown her in the river.\n\nThe girl consented, and standing by the river-bank, said to her\nstep-sister, \"Sister, may I try on your jewels?--how pretty they are!\"\n\"Yes,\" said the Ranee, \"and we shall be able to see in the river how\nthey look.\" So, undoing her necklaces, she clasped them round the\nother's neck. But whilst she was doing so her step-sister gave her a\npush, and she fell backward into the water. The girl watched to see\nthat the body did not rise, and then, running back, said to her\nmother, \"Mother, here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us no\nmore.\" But it happened that just when her step-sister pushed the Ranee\ninto the river her old friend the Seven-headed Cobra chanced to be\nswimming across it, and seeing the little Ranee like to be drowned, he\ncarried her on his back until he reached his hole, into which he took\nher safely. Now this hole, in which the Cobra and his wife and all his\nlittle ones lived, had two entrances--the one under the water and\nleading to the river, and the other above water, leading out into the\nopen fields. To this upper end of his hole the Cobra took the Muchie\nRanee, where he and his wife took care of her; and there she lived\nwith them for some time. Meanwhile, the wicked Fakeer's wife, having\ndressed up her own daughter in all the Ranee's jewels, took her to the\npalace, and said to the Muchie Rajah, \"See, I have brought your wife,\nmy dear daughter, back safe and well.\" The Rajah looked at her, and\nthought, \"This does not look like my wife.\" However, the room was dark\nand the girl was cleverly disguised, and he thought he might be\nmistaken. Next day he said again, \"My wife must be sadly changed or\nthis cannot be she, for she was always bright and cheerful. She had\npretty loving ways and merry words, while this woman never opens her\nlips.\" Still, he did not like to seem to mistrust his wife, and\ncomforted himself by saying, \"Perhaps she is tired with the long\njourney.\" On the third day, however, he could bear the uncertainty no\nlonger, and tearing off her jewels, saw, not the face of his own\nlittle wife, but another woman. Then he was very angry and turned her\nout of doors, saying, \"Begone; since you are but the wretched tool of\nothers, I spare your life.\" But of the Fakeer's wife he said to his\nguards, \"Fetch that woman here instantly; for unless she can tell me\nwhere my wife is, I will have her hanged.\" It chanced, however, that\nthe Fakeer's wife had heard of the Muchie Rajah having turned her\ndaughter out of doors; so, fearing his anger, she hid herself, and was\nnot to be found.\n\nMeantime, the Muchie Ranee, not knowing how to get home, continued to\nlive in the great Seven-headed Cobra's hole, and he and his wife and\nall his family were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been\none of them; and there her little son was born, and she called him\nMuchie Lal,[85] after the Muchie Rajah, his father. Muchie Lal was a\nlovely child, merry and brave, and his playmates all day long were the\nyoung Cobras.[86] When he was about three years old a bangle-seller\ncame by that way, and the Muchie Ranee bought some bangles from him\nand put them on her boy's wrists and ankles; but by next day, in\nplaying, he had broken them all. Then, seeing the bangle-seller, the\nRanee called him again and bought some more, and so on every day until\nthe bangle-seller got quite rich from selling so many bangles for the\nMuchie Lal, for the Cobra's hole was full of treasure, and he gave the\nMuchie Ranee as much money to spend every day as she liked. There was\nnothing she wished for he did not give her, only he would not let her\ntry to get home to her husband, which she wished more than all. When\nshe asked him he would say, \"No, I will not let you go. If your\nhusband comes here and fetches you, it is well; but I will not allow\nyou to wander in search of him through the land alone.\"\n\n [85] Little Ruby Fish.\n\n [86] See Notes at the end.\n\nAnd so she was obliged to stay where she was.\n\nAll this time the poor Muchie Rajah was hunting in every part of the\ncountry for his wife, but he could learn no tidings of her. For grief\nand sorrow at losing her he had gone well-nigh distracted, and did\nnothing but wander from place to place, crying, \"She is gone! she is\ngone!\" Then, when he had long inquired without avail of all the people\nin her native village about her, he one day met a bangle-seller and\nsaid to him, \"Whence do you come?\" The bangle-seller answered, \"I have\njust been selling bangles to some people who live in a Cobra's hole in\nthe river-bank.\" \"People! What people?\" asked the Rajah. \"Why,\"\nanswered the bangle-seller, \"a woman and a child: the child is the\nmost beautiful I ever saw. He is about three years old, and of course,\nrunning about, is always breaking his bangles, and his mother buys him\nnew ones every day.\" \"Do you know what the child's name is?\" said the\nRajah. \"Yes,\" answered the bangle-seller, carelessly, \"for the lady\nalways calls him her Muchie Lal.\" \"Ah,\" thought the Muchie Rajah,\n\"this must be my wife.\" Then he said to him again, \"Good\nbangle-seller, I would see these strange people of whom you speak;\ncannot you take me there?\" \"Not to-night,\" replied the bangle-seller;\n\"daylight has gone, and we should only frighten them; but I shall be\ngoing there again to-morrow, and then you may come too. Meanwhile,\ncome and rest at my house for the night, for you look faint and\nweary.\" The Rajah consented. Next morning, however, very early, he\nwoke the bangle-seller, saying, \"Pray let us go now and see the\npeople you spoke about yesterday.\" \"Stay,\" said the bangle-seller; \"it\nis much too early. I never go till after breakfast.\" So the Rajah had\nto wait till the bangle-seller was ready to go. At last they started\noff, and when they reached the Cobra's hole the first thing the Rajah\nsaw was a fine little boy playing with the young Cobras.\n\nAs the bangle-seller came along, jingling his bangles, a gentle voice\nfrom inside the hole called out, \"Come here, my Muchie Lal, and try on\nyour bangles.\" Then the Muchie Rajah, kneeling down at the mouth of\nthe hole, said, \"Oh, lady, show your beautiful face to me.\" At the\nsound of his voice the Ranee ran out, crying, \"Husband, husband! have\nyou found me again.\" And she told him how her sister had tried to\ndrown her, and how the good Cobra had saved her life and taken care of\nher and her child. Then he said, \"And will you now come home with me?\"\nAnd she told him how the Cobra would never let her go, and said, \"I\nwill first tell him of your coming; for he has been as a father to\nme.\" So she called out, \"Father Cobra, father Cobra, my husband has\ncome to fetch me; will you let me go?\" \"Yes,\" he said, \"if your\nhusband has come to fetch you, you may go.\" And his wife said,\n\"Farewell, dear lady, we are loth to lose you, for we have loved you\nas a daughter.\" And all the little Cobras were very sorrowful to think\nthat they must lose their playfellow, the young Prince. Then the Cobra\ngave the Muchie Rajah and the Muchie Ranee and Muchie Lal all the most\ncostly gifts he could find in his treasure-house; and so they went\nhome, where they lived very happy ever after.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXX.\n\n_CHUNDUN RAJAH._\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a Rajah and Ranee died, leaving seven sons and one\ndaughter. All these seven sons were married, and the wives of the six\neldest used to be very unkind to their poor little sister-in-law; but\nthe wife of the seventh brother loved her dearly, and always took her\npart against the others. She would say, \"Poor little thing! her life\nis sad. Her mother wished so long for a daughter, and then the girl\nwas born and the mother died, and never saw her poor child, or was\nable to ask any one to take care of her.\" At which the wives of the\nsix elder brothers would answer, \"You only take such notice of the\ngirl in order to vex us.\" Then, while their husbands were away, they\nmade up wicked stories against their sister-in-law, which they told\nthem on their return home; and their husbands believed them rather\nthan her, and were very angry with her and ordered her to be turned\nout of the house. But the wife of the seventh brother did not believe\nwhat the six others said, and was very kind to the little Princess,\nand sent her secretly as much food as she could spare from her own\ndinner. But as they drove her from their door, the six wives of the\nelder brothers cried out, \"Go away, wicked girl, go away, and never\nlet us see your face again until you marry Chundun Rajah![87] When you\ninvite us to the wedding, and give us, the six eldest, six common\nwooden stools to sit on, but the seventh sister (who always takes your\npart) a fine emerald chair, we will believe you innocent of all the\nevil deeds of which you are accused, but not till then!\" This they\nsaid scornfully, railing at her; for Chundun Rajah, of whom they spoke\n(who was the great Rajah of a neighboring country), had been dead many\nmonths.\n\n [87] King Sandlewood.\n\nSo, sad at heart, the Princess wandered forth into the jungle; and\nwhen she had gone through it, she came upon another, still denser than\nthe first. The trees grew so thickly overhead that she could scarcely\nsee the sky, and there was no village or house of living creature\nnear. The food her youngest sister-in-law had given her was nearly\nexhausted, and she did not know where to get more. At last, however,\nafter journeying on for many days, she came upon a large tank, beside\nwhich was a fine house that belonged to a Rakshas. Being very tired,\nshe sat down on the edge of the tank to eat some of the parched rice\nthat remained of her store of provisions; and as she did so she\nthought, \"This house belongs doubtless to a Rakshas, who perhaps will\nsee me and kill and eat me; but since no one cares for me, and I have\nneither home nor friends, I hold life cheap enough.\" It happened,\nhowever, that the Rakshas was then out, and there was no one in his\nhouse but a little cat and dog, who were his servants.\n\nThe dog's duty was to take care of the saffron with which the Rakshas\ncolored his face on highdays and holidays, and the cat had charge of\nthe antimony with which he blackened his eyelids. Before the Princess\nhad been long by the tank, the little cat spied her out, and running\nto her, said, \"Oh, sister, sister, I am so hungry, pray give me some\nof your dinner.\" The Princess answered, \"I have very little rice left;\nwhen it is all gone I shall starve. If I give you some, what have you\nto give me in exchange?\" The cat said, \"I have charge of the antimony\nwith which my Rakshas blackens his eyelids--I will give you some of\nit;\" and running to the house she fetched a nice little potful of\nantimony, which she gave to the Princess in exchange for the rice.\nWhen the little dog saw this, he also ran down to the tank, and said,\n\"Lady, lady, give me some rice, I pray you, for I, too, am very\nhungry.\" But she answered, \"I have very little rice left, and when it\nis all gone I shall starve. If I give you some of my dinner, what will\nyou give me in exchange?\" The dog said, \"I have charge of my Rakshas'\nsaffron, with which he colors his face. I will give you some of it.\"\nSo he ran to the house and fetched a quantity of saffron and gave it\nto the Princess, and she gave him also some of the rice. Then, tying\nthe antimony and saffron up in her saree, she said good-bye to the dog\nand cat and went on her way.\n\nThree or four days after this, she found she had nearly reached the\nother side of the jungle. The wood was not so thick, and in the\ndistance she saw a large building that looked like a great tomb. The\nPrincess determined to go and see what it was, and whether she could\nfind any one there to give her any food, for she had eaten all the\nrice and felt very hungry, and it was getting toward night.\n\nNow the place toward which the Princess went was the tomb of the\nChundun Rajah, but this she did not know.\n\nChundun Rajah had died many months before, and his father and mother\nand sisters, who loved him very dearly, could not bear the idea of his\nbeing buried under the cold ground; so they had built a beautiful\ntomb, and inside it they had placed the body on a bed under a canopy,\nand it had never decayed, but continued as fair and perfect as when\nfirst put there. Every day Chundun Rajah's mother and sister would\ncome to the place to weep and lament from sunrise to sunset, but each\nevening they returned to their own homes. Hard by was a shrine and\nsmall hut where a Brahmin lived, who had charge of the place; and from\nfar and near people used to come to visit the tomb of their lost Rajah\nand see the great miracle, how the body of him who had been dead so\nmany months remained perfect and undecayed; but none knew why this\nwas. When the Princess got near the place a violent storm came on. The\nrain beat upon her and wetted her, and it grew so dark she could\nhardly see where she was going. She would have been afraid to go into\nthe tomb had she known about Chundun Rajah; but as it was, the storm\nbeing so violent and night approaching, she ran in there for shelter\nas fast as she could, and sat down shivering in one corner. By the\nlight of an oil lamp that burnt dimly in a niche in the wall, she saw\nin front of her the body of the Rajah lying under the canopy, with the\nheavy jeweled coverlid over him and the rich hangings all round. He\nlooked as if he were only asleep, and she did not feel frightened. But\nat twelve o'clock, to her great surprise, as she was watching and\nwaiting, the Rajah came to life; and when he saw her sitting\nshivering in the corner, he fetched a light and came toward her and\nsaid, \"Who are you?\" She answered, \"I am a poor lonely girl. I only\ncame here for shelter from the storm. I am dying of cold and hunger.\"\nAnd then she told him all her story--how that her sisters-in-law had\nfalsely accused her, and driven her from among them into the jungle,\nbidding her see their faces no more until she married the Chundun\nRajah, who had been dead so many months; and how the youngest had been\nkind to her and sent her food, which had prevented her from starving\nby the way.\n\nThe Rajah listened to the Princess' words, and was certain that they\nwere true and she no common beggar from the jungles. For, for all her\nragged clothes, she looked a royal lady, and shone like a star in the\ndarkness. Moreover, her eyelids were darkened with antimony and her\nbeautiful face painted with saffron, like the face of a Princess. Then\nhe felt a great pity for her, and said, \"Lady, have no fear, for I\nwill take care of you,\" and dragging the rich coverlid off his bed he\nthrew it over her to keep her warm, and going to the Brahmin's house,\nwhich was close by, fetched some rice, which he gave her to eat. Then\nhe said, \"I am the Chundun Rajah, of whom you have heard. I die every\nday, but every night I come to life for a little while.\" She cried,\n\"Do none of your family know of this? and if so, why do you stay here\nin a dismal tomb?\" He answered, \"None know it but the Brahmin who has\ncharge of this place. Since my life is thus maimed, what would it\navail to tell my family? It would but grieve them more than to think\nme dead. Therefore, I have forbidden him to let them know; and since\nmy parents only come here by day, they have never found it out. Maybe\nI shall some time wholly recover, and till then I will be silent about\nmy existence.\" Then he called the Brahmin who had charge of the tomb\nand the shrine (and who daily placed an offering of food upon it for\nthe Rajah to eat when he came to life), and said to him, \"Henceforth,\nplace a double quantity of food upon the shrine, and take care of this\nlady. If I ever recover she shall be my Ranee.\" And having said these\nwords he died again. Then the Brahmin took the Princess to his little\nhut, and bade his wife see that she wanted for nothing, and all the\nnext day she rested in that place. Very early in the morning Chundun\nRajah's mother and sisters came to visit the tomb, but they did not\nsee the Princess; and in the evening, when the sun was setting, they\nwent away. That night, when the Chundun Rajah came to life, he called\nthe Brahmin, and said to him, \"Is the Princess still here?\" \"Yes,\" he\nanswered; \"for she is weary with her journey, and she has no home to\ngo to.\" The Rajah said, \"Since she has neither home nor friends, if\nshe be willing, you shall marry me to her, and she shall wander no\nfurther in search of shelter.\" So the Brahmin fetched his shastra[88]\nand called all his family as witnesses, and married the Rajah to the\nlittle Princess, reading prayers over them and scattering rice and\nflowers upon their heads. And there the Chundun Ranee lived for some\ntime. She was very happy; she wanted nothing, and the Brahmin and his\nwife took as much care of her as if she had been their daughter. Every\nday she would wait outside the tomb, but at sunset she always returned\nto it and watched for her husband to come to life. One night she said\nto him, \"Husband, I am happier to be your wife, and hold your hand and\ntalk to you for two or three hours every evening, than were I married\nto some great living Rajah for a hundred years. But oh what joy it\nwould be if you could come wholly to life again! Do you know what is\nthe cause of your daily death? and what it is that brings you to life\neach night at twelve o'clock?\"\n\n [88] Sacred books.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"it is because I have lost my Chundun Har,[89] the\nsacred necklace that held my soul. A Peri stole it. I was in the\npalace garden one day, when many of those winged ladies flew over my\nhead, and one of them, when she saw me, loved me and asked me to marry\nher. But I said no, I would not; and at that she was angry, and tore\nthe Chundun Har off my neck and flew away with it. That instant I fell\ndown dead, and my father and mother caused me to be placed in this\ntomb; but every night the Peri comes here and takes my necklace off\nher neck, and when she takes it off I come to life again, and she asks\nme to come away with her and marry her, and she does not put on the\nnecklace again for two or three hours, waiting to see if I will\nconsent. During that time I live. But when she finds I will not, she\nputs on the necklace again and flies away, and as soon as she puts it\non, I die.\"[90]\n\n [89] Sandlewood necklace.\n\n [90] See Notes at the end.\n\n\"Cannot the Peri be caught?\" asked the Chundun Ranee. Her husband\nanswered, \"No, I have often tried to seize back my necklace, for if I\ncould regain it I should come wholly to life again; but the Peri can\nat will render herself invisible and fly away with it, so that it is\nimpossible for any mortal man to get it.\" At this news the Chundun\nRanee was sad at heart, for she saw no hope of the Rajah's being\nrestored to life; and grieving over this she became so ill and unhappy\nthat even when she had a little baby boy born, it did not much cheer\nher, for she did nothing but think, \"This poor child will grow up in\nthis desolate place, and have no kind father day by day to teach him\nand help him as other children have, but only see him for a little\nwhile by night; and we are all at the mercy of the Peri, who may any\nday fly quite away with the necklace and not return.\" The Brahmin,\nseeing how ill she was, said to the Chundun Rajah, \"The Ranee will die\nunless she can be somewhere where much care will be taken of her, for\nin my poor home my wife and I can do but little for her comfort. Your\nmother and sister are good and charitable; let her go to the palace,\nwhere they will only need to see she is ill to take care of her.\" Now\nit happened that in the palace courtyard there was a great slab of\nwhite marble, on which the Chundun Rajah would often rest on the hot\nsummer days; and because he used to be so fond of it, when he died his\nfather and mother ordered that it should be taken great care of, and\nno one was allowed to so much as touch it. Knowing this, Chundun Rajah\nsaid to his wife, \"You are ill; I should like you to go to the palace,\nwhere my mother and sisters will take the greatest care of you. Do\nthis, therefore: take our child and sit down with him upon the great\nslab of marble in the palace courtyard. I used to be very fond of it;\nand so now for my sake it is kept with the greatest care, and no one\nis allowed to so much as touch it. They will most likely see you\nthere and order you to go away; but if you then tell them you are ill,\nthey will, I know, have pity on you and befriend you.\" The Chundun\nRanee did as her husband told her, placing her little boy on the great\nslab of white marble in the palace courtyard and sitting down herself\nbeside him. Chundun Rajah's sister, who was looking out of the window,\nsaw her and cried, \"Mother, there are a woman and her child resting on\nmy brother's marble slab; let us tell them to go away.\" So she ran\ndown to the place, but when she saw Chundun Ranee and the little boy\nshe was quite astonished, the Chundun Ranee was so fair and\nlovable-looking, and the baby was the image of her dead brother. Then\nreturning to her mother, she said, \"Mother, she who sits upon the\nmarble stone is the prettiest little lady I ever saw; and do not let\nus blame the poor thing; she says she is ill and weary, and the baby\n(I know not if it is fancy, or the seeing him on that stone) seems to\nme the image of my lost brother.\"\n\n [Illustration: CHUNDUN RANEE.--p. 276.]\n\nAt this the old Ranee and the rest of the family went out, and when\nthey saw the Chundun Ranee, they all took such a fancy to her and to\nthe child that they brought her into the palace, and were very kind to\nher, and took great care of her; so that in a while she got well and\nstrong again, and much less unhappy; and they all made a great pet of\nthe little boy, for they were struck with his strange likeness to the\ndead Rajah; and after a time they gave his mother a small house to\nlive in, close to the palace, where they often used to go and visit\nher. There also the Chundun Rajah would go each night when he came to\nlife, to laugh and talk with his wife and play with his boy, although\nhe still refused to tell his father and mother of his existence. One\nday it happened, however, that the little child told one of the\nPrincesses (Chundun Rajah's sister) how every evening some one who\ncame to the house used to laugh and talk with his mother and play with\nhim, and then go away. The Princess also heard the sound of voices in\nChundun Ranee's house, and saw lights flickering about there when they\nwere supposed to be fast asleep. Of this she told her mother, saying,\n\"Let us go down to-morrow night and see what this means; perhaps the\nwoman we thought so poor and befriended thus is nothing but a cheat,\nand entertains all her friends every night at our expense.\"\n\nSo the next evening they went down softly, softly to the place, when\nthey saw, not the strangers they had expected, but their long-lost\nChundun Rajah. Then, since he could not escape, he told them all--how\nthat every night for an hour or two he came to life, but was dead all\nday. And they rejoiced greatly to see him again, and reproached him\nfor not letting them know he ever lived, though for so short a time.\nHe then told them how he had married the Chundun Ranee, and thanked\nthem for all their loving care of her.\n\nAfter this he used to come every night and sit and talk with them; but\nstill each day, to their great sorrow, he died; nor could they divine\nany means for getting back his Chundun Har, which the Peri wore round\nher neck.\n\nAt last one evening, when they were all laughing and chatting\ntogether, seven Peris flew into the room unobserved by them, and one\nof the seven was the very Peri who had stolen Chundun Rajah's\nnecklace, and she held it in her hand.\n\nAll the young Peris were very fond of the Chundun Rajah and Chundun\nRanee's boy, and used often to come and play with him, for he was the\nimage of his father's and mother's loveliness, and as fair as the\nmorning; and he used to laugh and clap his little hands when he saw\nthem coming; for though men and women cannot see Peris, little\nchildren can.\n\nChundun Rajah was tossing the child up in the air when the Peris flew\ninto the room, and the little boy was laughing merrily. The winged\nladies fluttered round the Rajah and the child, and she that had the\nnecklace hovered over his head. Then the boy, seeing the glittering\nnecklace which the Peri held, stretched out his little arms and caught\nhold of it, and as he seized it the string broke, and all the beads\nfell upon the floor. At this the seven Peris were frightened and flew\naway, and the Chundun Ranee, collecting the beads, strung them and\nhung them round the Rajah's neck; and there was great joy amongst\nthose that loved him, because he had recovered the sacred necklace,\nand that the spell which doomed him to death was broken.\n\nThe glad news was soon known throughout the kingdom, and all the\npeople were happy and proud to hear it, crying, \"We have lost our\nyoung Rajah for such a long, long time, and now one little child has\nbrought him back to life.\" And the old Rajah and Ranee (Chundun\nRajah's father and mother) determined that he should be married again\nto the Chundun Ranee with great pomp and splendor, and they sent\nletters into all the kingdoms of the world, saying, \"Our son the\nChundun Rajah has come to life again, and we pray you come to his\nwedding.\"\n\nThen, among those who accepted the invitation, were the Chundun\nRanee's seven brothers and their seven wives; and for her six\nsisters-in-law, who had been so cruel to her and caused her to be\ndriven out into the jungle, the Chundun Ranee prepared six common\nwooden stools; but for the seventh, who had been kind to her, she made\nready an emerald throne and a foot-stool adorned with emeralds.\n\nWhen all the Ranees were taken to their places, the six eldest\ncomplained, saying, \"How is this? Six of us are given only common\nwooden stools to sit upon, but the seventh has an emerald chair?\" Then\nthe Chundun Ranee stood up, and before the assembled guests told them\nher story, reminding her six elder sisters-in-law of their former\ntaunts, and how they had forbidden her to see them again until the day\nof her marriage with the Chundun Rajah, and she explained how unjustly\nthey had accused her to her brothers. When the Ranees heard this they\nwere struck dumb with fear and shame, and were unable to answer a\nword; and all their husbands, being much enraged to learn how they had\nconspired to kill their sister-in-law, commanded that these wicked\nwoman should be instantly hanged, which was accordingly done. Then, on\nthe same day that the Chundun Rajah remarried their sister, the six\nelder brothers were married to six beautiful ladies of the court amid\ngreat and unheard-of rejoicings, and from that day they all lived\ntogether in perfect peace and harmony until their lives' end.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXXI.\n\n_SODEWA BAI._\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a Rajah and Ranee, who had only one\ndaughter, and she was the most beautiful Princess in the world. Her\nface was as fair and delicate as the clear moonlight, and they called\nher Sodewa Bai.[91] At her birth her father and mother had sent for\nall the wise men in the kingdom to tell her fortune, and they\npredicted that she would grow up richer and more fortunate than any\nother lady; and so it was, for from her earliest youth she was good\nand lovely, and whenever she opened her lips to speak pearls and\nprecious stones fell upon the ground, and as she walked along they\nwould scatter on either side of her path, insomuch that her father\nsoon became the richest Rajah in all that country, for his daughter\ncould not go across the room without shaking down jewels worth a\ndowry. Moreover, Sodewa Bai was born with a golden necklace about her\nneck, concerning which also her parents consulted astrologers, who\nsaid, \"This is no common child; the necklace of gold about her neck\ncontains your daughter's soul: let it therefore be guarded with the\nutmost care, for if it were taken off and worn by another person she\nwould die.\" So the Ranee, her mother, caused it to be firmly fastened\nround the child's neck, and as soon as she was old enough to\nunderstand, instructed her concerning its value, and bade her on no\naccount ever to allow it to be taken off.\n\n [91] The Lady Good Fortune.\n\nAt the time my story begins this Princess was fourteen years old, but\nshe was not married, for her father and mother had promised that she\nshould not do so until it pleased herself; and although many great\nrajahs and nobles sought her hand, she constantly refused them all.\n\nNow Sodewa Bai's father, on one of her birth-days, gave her a lovely\npair of slippers made of gold and jewels. Each slipper was worth a\nhundred thousand gold mohurs. There were none like them in all the\nearth. Sodewa Bai prized these slippers very much, and always wore\nthem when she went out walking, to protect her tender feet from the\nstones; but one day, as she was wandering with her ladies upon the\nside of the mountain on which the palace was built, playing and\npicking the wild flowers, her foot slipped and one of the golden\nslippers fell down, down, down the steep hill-slope, over rocks and\nstones, into the jungle below. Sodewa Bai sent attendants to search\nfor it, and the Rajah caused criers to go throughout the town and\nproclaim that whoever discovered the Princess' slipper should receive\na great reward; but though it was hunted for far and near, high and\nlow, it could not be found.\n\nIt chanced, however, that not very long after this a young Prince, the\neldest son of a Rajah who lived in the plains, was out hunting, and in\nthe jungle he picked up the very little golden slipper which Sodewa\nBai had lost, and which had tumbled all the way from the\nmountain-side into the depths of the forest. He took it home with him,\nand showed it to his mother, saying, \"What a fairy foot must have worn\nthis tiny slipper!\" \"Ah, my boy,\" she said, \"this must have belonged\nto a lovely Princess, in truth (if she is but as beautiful as her\nslipper); would that you could find such a one to be your wife!\" Then\nthey sent into all the towns of the kingdom to inquire for the owner\nof the lost slipper, but she could not be found. At last, when many\nmonths had gone by, it happened that news was brought by travelers to\nthe Rajah's capital, of how, in a far distant land, very high among\nthe mountains, there lived a beautiful Princess who had lost her\nslipper, and whose father had offered a great reward to whoever should\nrestore it; and from the description they gave all were assured it was\nthe one that the Prince had found.\n\nThen his mother said to him, \"My son, it is certain that the slipper\nyou found belongs to none other than the great Mountain Rajah's\ndaughter; therefore take it to his palace, and when he offers you the\npromised reward, say that you wish for neither silver nor gold, but\nask him to give you his daughter in marriage. Thus you may gain her\nfor your wife.\"\n\nThe Prince did as his mother advised; and when, after a long, long\njourney, he reached the court of Sodewa Bai's father, he presented the\nslipper to him, saying, \"I have found your daughter's slipper, and for\nrestoring it I claim a great reward.\" \"What will you have?\" said the\nRajah. \"Shall I pay you in horses? or in silver? or in gold?\" \"No,\"\nanswered the Prince, \"I will have none of these things. I am the son\nof a Rajah who lives in the plains, and I found this slipper in the\njungle where I was hunting, and have traveled for many weary days to\nbring it you; but the only payment I care for is the hand of your\nbeautiful daughter; if it pleases you, let me become your son-in-law.\"\nThe Rajah replied, \"This only I cannot promise you; for I have vowed I\nwill not oblige my daughter to marry against her will. This matter\ndepends upon her alone. If she is willing to be your wife, I also am\nwilling; but it rests with her free choice.\" Now it happened that\nSodewa Bai had from her window seen the Prince coming up to the palace\ngate, and when she heard his errand, she said to her father, \"I saw\nthat Prince, and I am willing to marry him.\" So they were married with\ngreat pomp and splendor. When all the other Rajah's, Sodewa Bai's\nsuitors, heard of this, they were, however much astonished as well as\nvexed, and said, \"What can have made Sodewa Bai take a fancy to that\nyoung Prince? He is not so wonderfully handsome, and he is very poor.\nThis is a most foolish marriage.\" But they all came to it, and were\nentertained at the palace, where the wedding festivities lasted many\ndays. After Sodewa Bai and her husband had lived there for some little\ntime, he one day said to his father-in-law, \"I have a great desire to\nsee my own people again and to return to my own country. Let me take\nmy wife home with me.\"\n\nThe Rajah said, \"Very well. I am willing that you should go. Take care\nof your wife; guard her as the apple of your eye; and be sure you\nnever permit the golden necklace to be taken from her neck and given\nto any one else, for in that case she would die.\" The Prince promised,\nand he returned with Sodewa Bai to his father's kingdom. At their\ndeparture the Rajah of the Mountain gave them many elephants, horses,\ncamels and attendants, besides jewels innumerable and much money, and\nmany rich hangings, robes and carpets. The old Rajah and Ranee of the\nPlain were delighted to welcome home their son and his beautiful\nbride; and there they might all have lived their lives long in\nuninterrupted peace and happiness, had it not been for one unfortunate\ncircumstance. Rowjee (for that was the Prince's name) had another\nwife, to whom he had been married when a child, long before he had\nfound Sodewa Bai's golden slipper; she therefore was the first Ranee,\nthough Sodewa Bai was the one he loved the best (for the first Ranee\nwas of a sullen, morose and jealous disposition.) His father also, and\nhis mother, preferred Sodewa Bai to their other daughter-in-law. The\nfirst Ranee could not bear to think of any one being Ranee beside\nherself; and more especially of another not only in the same position,\nbut better loved by all around than she; and therefore in her wicked\nheart she hated Sodewa Bai and longed for her destruction, though\noutwardly she pretended to be very fond of her. The old Rajah and\nRanee, knowing of the first Ranee's jealous and envious disposition,\nnever liked Sodewa Bai to be much with her; but as they had only a\nvague fear, and no certain ground for alarm, they could do no more\nthan watch both carefully; and Sodewa Bai, who was guileless and\nunsuspicious, would remonstrate with them when they warned her not to\nbe so intimate with Rowjee Rajah's other wife, saying, \"I have no\nfear. I think she loves me as I love her. Why should we disagree? Are\nwe not sisters?\" One day, Rowjee Rajah was obliged to go on a journey\nto a distant part of his father's kingdom, and, being unable to take\nSodewa Bai with him, he left her in his parents' charge, promising to\nreturn soon, and begging them to watch over her, and to go every\nmorning and see that she was well; which they agreed to do.\n\nA little while after their husband had gone, the first Ranee went to\nSodewa Bai's room and said to her, \"It is lonely for us both, now\nRowjee is away; but you must come often to see me, and I will come\noften to see you and talk to you, and so we will amuse ourselves as\nwell as we can.\" To this Sodewa Bai agreed, and to amuse the first\nRanee she took out all her jewels and pretty things to show her. As\nthey were looking over them, the first Ranee said, \"I notice you\nalways wear that row of golden beads round your neck. Why do you? Have\nyou any reason for always wearing the same ones?\" \"Oh, yes,\" answered\nSodewa Bai, thoughtlessly. \"I was born with these beads round my neck,\nand the wise men told my father and mother that they contain my soul,\nand that if any one else wore them I should die. Therefore I always\nwear them. I have never once taken them off.\" When the first Ranee\nheard this news she was very much pleased; yet she feared to steal the\nbeads herself, both because she was afraid she might be found out, and\nbecause she did not like with her own hands to commit the crime. So,\nreturning to her house, she called her most confidential servant, a\nnegress, whom she knew to be trustworthy, and said to her, \"Go this\nevening to Sodewa Bai's room when she is asleep, and take from her\nneck the string of golden beads, and fasten them round your own neck,\nand return to me. Those beads contain her soul, and as soon as you put\nthem on she will cease to live.\" The negress agreed to do as she was\ntold; for she had long known that her mistress hated Sodewa Bai and\ndesired nothing so much as her death. So that night, going softly into\nthe sleeping Ranee's room, she stole the golden necklace, and\nfastening it round her own neck, crept away without any one knowing\nwhat was done; and when the negress put on the necklace, Sodewa Bai's\nspirit fled.\n\nNext morning the old Rajah and Ranee went as usual to see their\ndaughter-in-law, and knocked at the door of her room. No one answered.\nThey knocked again and again; still no reply. They then went in, and\nfound her lying there, cold as marble and quite dead, though she\nseemed very well when they had seen her before. They asked her\nattendants, who slept just outside her door, whether she had been ill\nthat night, or if any one had gone into her room? But they declared\nthey had heard no sound, and were sure no one had been near the place.\nIn vain the Rajah and Ranee sent for the most learned doctors in the\nkingdom, to see if there was still any spark of life remaining; all\nsaid that the young Ranee was dead, beyond reach of hope or help.\n\nThen the Rajah and Ranee were very much grieved, and mourned bitterly;\nand because they desired that, if possible, Rowjee Rajah should see\nhis wife once again, instead of burying her underground, they placed\nher beneath a canopy in a beautiful tomb near a little tank, and would\ngo daily to visit the place and look at her. Then did a wonder take\nplace, such as had never been known throughout the land before! Sodewa\nBai's body did not decay nor the color of her face change; and a month\nafterward, when her husband returned home, she looked as fair and\nlovely as on the night on which she died. There was a fresh color in\nher cheeks and on her lips; she seemed to be only asleep. When poor\nRowjee Rajah heard of her death he was so broken-hearted they thought\nhe also would die. He cursed the evil fate that had obliged him to go\naway and deprive him of hearing her last words, or bidding her\nfarewell, if he could not save her life; and from morning to evening\nhe would go to her tomb, and rend the air with his passionate\nlamentations, and looking through the grating to where she lay calm\nand still under the canopy, say, before he went away, \"I will take one\nlast look at that fair face. To-morrow Death may have set his seal\nupon it. Oh, loveliness, too bright for earth! Oh, lost, lost wife!\"\n\nThe Rajah and Ranee feared that he would die or go mad, and they tried\nto prevent his going to the tomb; but all was of no avail; it seemed\nto be the only thing he cared for in life.\n\nNow the negress who had stolen Sodewa Bai's necklace used to wear it\nall day long, but late each night, on going to bed, she would take it\noff and put it by till next morning, and whenever she took it off\nSodewa Bai's spirit returned to her again, and she lived till day\ndawned and the negress put on the necklace, when she again died. But\nas the tomb was far from any houses, and the old Rajah and Ranee and\nRowjee Rajah only went there by day, nobody found this out. When\nSodewa Bai first came to life in this way, she felt very much\nfrightened to find herself there all alone in the dark, and thought\nshe was in prison; but afterward she got more accustomed to it, and\ndetermined when morning came to look about the place and find her way\nback to the palace, and recover the necklace she found she had lost\n(for it would have been dangerous to go at night through the jungles\nthat surrounded the tomb, where she could hear the wild beasts roaring\nall night long); but morning never came, for whenever the negress\nawoke and put on the golden beads Sodewa Bai died. However, each\nnight, when the Ranee came to life, she would walk to the little tank\nby the tomb and drink some of the cool water, and return; but food she\nhad none. Now, no pearls or precious stones fell from her lips,\nbecause she had no one to talk to; but each time she walked down to\nthe tank she scattered jewels on either side of her path; and one day,\nwhen Rowjee Rajah went to the tomb, he noticed all these jewels, and\nthinking it very strange (though he never dreamed that his wife could\ncome to life), determined to watch and see whence they came. But\nalthough he watched and waited long, he could not find out the cause,\nbecause all day long Sodewa Bai lay still and dead, and only came to\nlife at night. It was just at this time, two whole months after she\nhad been buried, and the night after the very day that Rowjee Rajah\nhad spent in watching by the tomb, that Sodewa Bai had a little son;\nbut directly after he was born day dawned, and the mother died. The\nlittle lonely baby began to cry, but no one was there to hear him;\nand, as it chanced, the Rajah did not go the tomb that day, for he\nthought, \"All yesterday I watched by the tomb and saw nothing;\ninstead, therefore, of going to-day, I will wait till the evening, and\nthen see again if I cannot find out how the jewels came there.\"\n\nSo at night he went to the place. When he got there he heard a faint\ncry from inside the tomb, but what it was he knew not; perhaps it\nmight be a Peri or an evil spirit. As he was wondering the door opened\nand Sodewa Bai crossed the courtyard to the tank with a child in her\narms, and as she walked showers of jewels fell on both sides of her\npath. Rowjee Rajah thought he must be in a dream; but when he saw the\nRanee drink some water from the tank and return toward the tomb, he\nsprang up and hurried after her. Sodewa Bai, hearing footsteps follow\nher, was frightened, and running into the tomb, fastened the door.\nThen the Rajah knocked at it, saying, \"Let me in; let me in.\" She\nanswered, \"Who are you? Are you a Rakshas or a spirit?\" (For she\nthought, \"Perhaps this is some cruel creature who will kill me and the\nchild.\") \"No, no,\" cried the Rajah, \"I am no Rakshas, but your\nhusband. Let me in, Sodewa Bai, if you are indeed alive.\" No sooner\ndid he name her name than Sodewa Bai knew his voice, and unbolted the\ndoor and let him in. Then, when he saw her sitting on the tomb with\nthe baby on her lap, he fell down on his knees before her, saying,\n\"Tell me, little wife, that this is not a dream.\" \"No,\" she answered,\n\"I am indeed alive, and this our child was born last night; but every\nday I die, for while you were away some one stole my golden necklace.\"\n\nThen for the first time Rowjee Rajah noticed that the beads were no\nlonger round her neck. So he bade her fear nothing, for that he would\nassuredly recover them and return; and going back to the palace, which\nhe reached in the early morning, he summoned before him the whole\nhousehold.\n\nThen, upon the neck of the negress, servant to the first Ranee, he saw\nSodewa Bai's missing necklace, and seizing it, ordered the guards to\ntake the woman to prison. The negress, frightened, confessed all she\nhad done by order of the first Ranee, and how, at her command, she had\nstolen the necklace. And when the Rajah learnt this he ordered that\nthe first Ranee also should be imprisoned for life, and he and his\nfather and mother all went together to the tomb, and placing the lost\nbeads round Sodewa Bai's neck, brought her and the child back in\ntriumph with them to the palace. Then, at news of how the young Ranee\nhad been restored to life, there was great joy throughout all that\ncountry, and many days were spent in rejoicings in honor of that happy\nevent; and for the rest of their lives the old Rajah and Ranee, and\nRowjee Rajah and Sodewa Bai, and all the family, lived in health and\nhappiness.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXXII.\n\n_CHANDRA'S VENGEANCE._\n\n\nThere was once a Sowkar's[92] wife who had no children; one day she\nwent crying to her husband and saying, \"What an unhappy woman I am to\nhave no children! If I had any children to amuse me I should be quite\nhappy.\" He answered, \"Why should you be miserable on that account;\nthough you have no children, your sister has eight or nine; why not\nadopt one of hers?\" The Sowkar's wife agreed, and, adopting one of her\nsister's little boys, who was only six months old, brought him up as\nher own son. Some time afterward, when the child was one day returning\nfrom school, he and one of his schoolfellows quarreled and began to\nfight, and the other boy (being much the older and stronger of the\ntwo) gave him a great blow on the head and knocked him down, and hurt\nhim very much. The boy ran crying home, and the Sowkar's wife bathed\nhis head and bandaged it up, but she did not send and punish the boy\nwho hurt him, for she thought, \"One can't keep children shut up always\nin the house, and they will be fighting together sometimes and hurting\nthemselves.\" Then the child grumbled to himself, saying, \"This is only\nmy aunt; that is why she did not punish the other boy. If she had\nbeen my mother, she would certainly have given him a great knock on\nhis head to punish him for knocking mine, but because she is only my\naunt, I suppose she doesn't care.\" The Sowkar's wife overheard him,\nand felt very much grieved, saying, \"This little child, whom I have\nwatched over from his babyhood, does not love me as if I were his\nmother. It is of no use; he is not my own, and he will never care for\nme as such.\" So she took him home to his own mother, saying, \"Sister,\nI have brought you back your child.\" \"How is this?\" asked her sister.\n\"You adopted him as yours for all his life. Why do you now bring him\nback?\" The Sowkar's wife did not tell her sister what she had heard\nthe boy say, but she answered, \"Very well; let him be yours and mine:\nhe shall live a while with you, and then come and visit me; we will\nboth take care of him.\" And returning to her husband, she told him\nwhat she had done, saying \"All my pains are useless; you know how kind\nI have been to my sister's boy, yet, after all I have done for him, at\nthe end of seven years he does not love me as well as he does his\nmother, whom he had scarcely seen. Now, therefore, I will never rest\nuntil I have seen Mahdeo[93] and asked him to grant that I may have a\nchild of my own.\"[94]\n\n [92] Merchant's.\n\n [93] The Creator.\n\n [94] See Notes at the end.\n\n\"What a foolish woman you are!\" answered her husband; \"why not be\ncontent with your lot? How do you think you will find Mahdeo? Do you\nknow the road to heaven?\" \"Nay,\" she replied, \"but I will seek for it\nuntil I find it out, and if I never find it, it cannot be helped, but\nI will return home no more unless my prayer is answered.\" So she left\nthe house, and wandered into the jungle, and after she had traveled\nthrough it for many, many days, and left her own land very far behind,\nshe came to the borders of another country, even the Madura\nTinivelly[95] country, where a great river rolled down toward the sea.\nOn the river-bank sat two women--a Ranee named Coplinghee Ranee and a\nNautch woman.\n\n [95] Two provinces of the Madras Presidency, on the mainland\n opposite Ceylon. They are famous in Hindoo mythology.\n\nNow, neither the Ranee, the Nautch woman nor the Sowkar's wife had\never seen each other before they met at the river-side. Then, as she\nsat down to rest and drink some of the water, the Ranee turned to the\nSowkar's wife and said to her, \"Who are you, and where are you going?\"\nShe answered, \"I am a Sowkar's wife from a far country, and because I\nwas very unhappy at having no children, I am going to find Mahdeo and\nask him to grant that I may have a child of my own.\"\n\nThen, in her turn, she said to the Ranee, \"And pray who are you, and\nwhere are you going?\" The Ranee answered, \"I am Coplinghee Ranee,\nqueen of all this country, but neither money nor riches can give me\njoy, for I have no children; I therefore am going to seek Mahdeo and\nask him to grant that I may have a child.\" Then Coplinghee Ranee asked\nthe Nautch woman the same question, saying, \"And who may you be, and\nwhere are you going?\" The Nautch woman answered, \"I am a dancing woman\nand I also have no children, and am going to seek Mahdeo and pray to\nhim for a child.\" At hearing this, the Sowkar's wife said, \"Since we\nare all journeying on the same errand, why should we not go together?\"\nTo this Coplinghee Ranee and the Dancing woman agreed, so they all\nthree continued their journey together through the jungle.\n\nOn, on, on they went, every day further and further; they never stayed\nto rest nor saw another human being. Their feet ached dreadfully and\ntheir clothes wore out, and they had nothing to live on but the jungle\nplants, wild berries and seeds. So weary and worn did they become that\nthey looked like three poor old beggar women. Never had they by\nnight-time sleep nor by day-time rest; and so, hour after hour, month\nafter month, year after year, they traveled on.\n\nAt last one day they came to where, in the midst of the jungle, there\nrolled a great river of fire. It was the biggest river they had ever\nseen, and made of flames instead of water. There was no one on this\nside and no one on that--no way of getting across but by walking\nthrough the fire.\n\nWhen Coplinghee Ranee and the Nautch woman saw this, they said, \"Alas!\nhere is the end of all our pains and trouble. All hope is over, for we\ncan go no farther.\" But the Sowkar's wife answered, \"Shall we be\ndeterred by this after having come so far? Nay, rather seek a way\nacross the fire.\" And so saying, she stepped into the fire waves; the\nothers, however, were afraid, and would not go. When the Sowkar's wife\nhad half crossed the river of fire, she turned, and waving her hands\ntoward them, said, \"Come on, come on, do not be afraid. The fire does\nnot burn me. I go to find Mahdeo; perhaps he is on the other\nside.\"[96] But they still refused, saying, \"We cannot come, but we\nwill wait here until your return; and if you find Mahdeo, pray for us\nalso, that we may have children.\"\n\n [96] See Notes at the end.\n\nSo the Sowkar's wife went on her way, and the fire-waves lapped round\nher feet as if they had been water, but they did not hurt her.\n\nWhen she reached the other side of the river she came upon a great\nwilderness, full of wild elephants, and bison, and lions, and tigers,\nand bears, that roared and growled on every side. But she did not turn\nback for fear of them, for she said to herself, \"I can but die once,\nand it is better that they should kill me than that I should return\nwithout finding Mahdeo.\" And all the wild beasts allowed her to pass\nthrough the midst of them and did her no harm.\n\nNow it came to pass that Mahdeo looked down from heaven and saw her,\nand when he saw her he pitied her greatly, for she had been twelve\nyears wandering upon the face of the earth to find him. Then he caused\na beautiful mango tree, beside a fair well, to spring up in the desert\nto give her rest and refreshment, and he himself, in the disguise of a\nGosain Fakeer, came and stood by the tree. But the Sowkar's wife would\nnot stay to gather the fruit or drink the water; she did not so much\nas notice the Fakeer, but walked straight on in her weary search for\nMahdeo. Then he called after her, \"Bai, Bai, where are you going? Come\nhere.\" She answered, scarcely looking at him, \"It matters not to you,\nFakeer, where I am going. You tell your prayer-beads and leave me\nalone.\" \"Come here,\" he cried; \"come here.\" But she would not, so\nMahdeo went and stood in front of her, no longer disguised as a\nFakeer, but shining brightly, the Lord of Kylas[97] in all his beauty,\nand at the sight of him the poor Sowkar's wife fell down on the ground\nand kissed his feet, and he said to her, \"Tell me, Bai, where are you\ngoing?\" She answered, \"Sir, I seek Mahdeo, to pray him to grant that I\nmay have a child, but for twelve years I have looked for him in vain.\"\nHe said, \"Seek no further, for I am Mahdeo; take this mango,\" and he\ngathered one off the tree that grew by the well, \"and eat it, and it\nshall come to pass that when you return home you shall have a child.\"\nThen she said, \"Sir, three women came seeking you, but two stayed by\nthe river of fire, for they were afraid; may not they also have\nchildren?\"\n\n [97] The Hindoo heaven.\n\n\"If you will,\" he answered, \"you may give them some of your mango, and\nthen they also will each have a child.\"\n\nSo saying, he faded from her sight, and the Sowkar's wife returned\nglad and joyful, through the wilderness and the river of fire, to\nwhere the Ranee and the Dancing woman were waiting for her on the\nother side. When they saw her, they said, \"Well, Sowkar's wife, what\nnews?\" She answered, \"I have found Mahdeo, and he has given me this\nmango, of which if we eat we shall each have a child.\" And she took\nthe mango, and squeezing it gave the juice to the Ranee, and the skin\nshe gave to the Nautch woman, and the pulp and the stone she ate\nherself.\n\nThen these three women returned to their own homes; Coplinghee Ranee\nand the Dancing woman to the Madura Tinivelly country, and the\nSowkar's wife to very, very far beyond that, even the land where her\nhusband lived, and whence she had first started on her journey.\n\nBut on their return all their friends only laughed at them, and the\nSowkar said to his wife, \"I cannot see much good in your mad\ntwelve-years' journey; you only come back looking like a beggar, and\nall the world laughs at you.\"\n\n\"I don't care,\" she answered; \"I have seen Mahdeo and eaten of the\nmango, and I shall have a child.\"\n\nAnd within a little while it came to pass that there was born to the\nSowkar and his wife a little son, and on the very same day Coplinghee\nRanee had a daughter and the Nautch woman had a daughter.\n\nThen were they all very happy, and sent everywhere to tell their\nfriends the good news; and each gave, according to her power, a great\nfeast to the poor as a thank-offering to Mahdeo, who had been merciful\nto them. And the Sowkar's wife called her son \"Koila,\"[98] in memory\nof the mango stone; and the Nautch woman called her daughter\n\"Moulee;\"[99] and the little Princess was named Chandra Bai,[100] for\nshe was as fair and beautiful as the white moon.\n\n [98] He of the mango stone.\n\n [99] From the sweet mango pulp.\n\n [100] The Moon Lady.\n\nChandra Ranee was very beautiful, the most beautiful child in all that\ncountry, so pretty and delicately made that everybody, when they saw\nher, loved her. She was born, moreover, with, on her ankles, two of\nthe most costly anklets that ever were seen. They were made of gold\nand very precious stones, dazzling to look at, like the sun. No one\nhad ever seen any like them before. Every day, as the baby grew, these\nbangles grew, and round them were little bells, which tinkled when any\none came near. Chandra's parents were very happy and proud, and sent\nfor all the wise men in the kingdom to tell her fortune. But the most\nlearned Brahmin of them all, when he saw her, said, \"This child must\nbe sent out of the country at once, for if she stays in it she will\ndestroy all the land with fire, and burn it utterly.\"\n\nThe Rajah, at hearing these words, was very angry, and said to the\nBrahmin, \"I will cut off your head, for you tell lies and not the\ntruth.\" The Brahmin answered, \"Cut off my head if you will, but it is\nthe truth I speak, and no lie. If you do not believe me, let a little\nwool be fetched, and put it upon the child, that you may know my words\nare true.\"\n\nSo they fetched some wool and laid it upon the baby, and no sooner had\nthey done so than it all blazed up and burnt till not a bit was left,\nand it scorched the hands of the attendants.\n\nThen the Brahmin said, \"As this fire has burnt the wool, so will this\nPrincess one day, if she comes here, burn this whole land.\" And they\nwere all very much frightened, and the Rajah said to the Ranee, \"This\nbeing so, the child must be sent out of the country instantly.\" The\npoor Ranee thereat was very sad, and she did all in her power to save\nher little baby, but the Rajah would not hear of it, and commanded\nthat the Princess should be placed in a large box, and taken to the\nborders of his land, where a great river rolled down to the sea, and\nthere thrown into the stream, that it might carry her far, far away,\neach minute farther from her native land.[101] Then the Ranee caused a\nbeautiful golden box to be made, and put her little baby in it with\nmany tears (since all her efforts to save it were of no avail), and it\nwas taken away and thrown into the river.\n\n [101] See Notes at the end.\n\nThe box floated on, and on, and on, until at last it reached the\ncountry where the Sowkar and the Sowkar's wife lived. Now it chanced\nthat, just as the box was floating by, the Sowkar, who had gone down\nto the river to wash his face, caught sight of it, and seeing a\nFisherman not far off prepared to throw his net into the water, he\ncried, \"Run, Fisherman, run, run; do not stop to fish, but cast your\nnet over that glittering box and bring it here to me.\"\n\n\"I will not, unless you promise me that the box shall be mine,\" said\nthe Fisherman. \"Very well,\" answered the Sowkar, \"the box shall be\nyours, and whatever it contains shall belong to me.\"\n\nSo the Fisherman cast his net in that part of the river and dragged\nthe box ashore.\n\nI don't know which was most astonished--the Merchant or the\nFisherman--when they saw what a prize they had found. For the box was\ncomposed entirely of gold and precious stones, and within it lay the\nmost lovely little child that ever was seen.\n\nShe seemed a little Princess, for her dress was all made of cloth of\ngold, and on her feet were two anklets that shone like the sun.\n\nWhen the Sowkar opened the box, she smiled; and stretched out her\nlittle arms toward him. Then he was pleased, and said, \"Fisherman, the\nbox is yours, but this child must belong to me.\" The Fisherman was\ncontent that it should be so, for he had many children of his own at\nhome, and wanted no more, but was glad to have the golden box; while\nthe Sowkar, who had only his one little son and was rich, did not care\nfor the box, but was well pleased to have the baby.\n\nHe took her home to his wife, and said, \"See, wife, here is a pretty\nlittle daughter-in-law for us. Here is a wife for your little son.\"\nAnd when the Sowkar's wife saw the child looking so beautiful and\nsmiling so sweetly, her heart was glad and she loved her, and from\nthat day took the greatest care of her, just as if the baby girl had\nbeen her own daughter. And when Chandra Ranee was a year old they\nmarried her to their son, Koila.\n\nYears wore on, and the Sowkar and his wife were in a good old age\ngathered to their fathers. Meantime, Koila and Chandra had grown up\nthe handsomest couple in all the country: Koila tall and straight,\nwith a face like a young lion, and Chandra as lithe and graceful as a\npalm tree, with a face calm and beautiful like the silver moonlight.\n\nMeantime Moulee, the Nautch woman's daughter (and third of the mango\nchildren), had likewise grown up in the Madura Tinivelly country, and\nwas also very fair--fairer than any one in all the land around.\nMoreover, she danced and sang more beautifully than any of the other\nNautch girls. Her voice was clear as the voice of a quail, and it rang\nthrough the air with such power that the sound could be heard a\ntwelve-days' journey off. The Nautch people used to travel about from\nplace to place, staying one day in one town and the next in another,\nand so it happened that in their wanderings they reached the borders\nof the land where Koila and Chandra lived.\n\nOne morning Koila heard the sound of singing in the distance, and it\npleased him so well that he determined to try and discover who it was\nthat possessed such an exquisite voice. For twelve days he journeyed\non through the jungle, each day hearing the singing repeated louder\nand louder, yet still without reaching the place whence it came. At\nlast, on the twelfth day, he got close to the Nautch people's\nencampment, not far from a large town, and there saw the singer (who\nwas none other than Moulee), singing and dancing in the midst of a\ngreat crowd of people who had collected around her. In her hand she\nheld a garland of flowers, which she waved over her head as she\ndanced.\n\nKoila was so charmed with the sound of her voice that he felt\nspell-bound, and stood where he was, far off on the outskirts of the\njungle, listening, without going any nearer.\n\nWhen the entertainment was over, all the people crowded round Moulee,\nsaying, \"Why should you, who have such a beautiful voice, go away and\nleave our city? Marry one of us, and then you will stay here always.\"\nThen, the number of her suitors being so great that she did not know\nwhom to choose, she said, \"Very well; he on whose neck this garland\nfalls shall be my husband.\" And waving the flowers she held two or\nthree times round her head, she threw them from her with her utmost\nforce.\n\nThe impetus given to the garland was so great that it swung through\nthe air beyond the crowd and fell upon the neck of Koila as he stood\nby the borders of the jungle. And the people ran to see who was the\nfortunate possessor, and when they saw Koila they were astonished, for\nhe looked more beautiful than any of the sons of men: it was as if an\nimmortal had suddenly come among them. And the Nautch people dragged\nhim back to their camp, crying, \"You have won the garland; you must be\nMoulee's husband.\" He answered, \"I only came here to look on; I cannot\nstay. This is not my country; I have a wife of my own at home.\" \"That\nis nothing to us,\" they said; \"it is your destiny to marry\nMoulee--Moulee the beautiful one--Moulee, whose voice you heard and\nwho dances so well. You must marry her, for the garland fell on you.\"\n\nNow so it was, that though Koila was very kind to his wife, he did not\nlove her as well as she loved him (perhaps it was that, having been\naccustomed to her from a child, Chandra's goodness and beauty struck\nhim less than it did other people); and instead of thinking how\nunhappy she would be if he did not return, and going back at once, he\nstopped and hesitated and debated what to do. And the Nautch people\ngave him a drink that was a very powerful spell, insomuch that he soon\ntotally forgot about his own home, and was married to Moulee, the\nNautch girl, and lived among the Nautch people for many months. At\nlast, one day, Moulee's mother (the very Nautch woman who had gone\nwith Coplinghee Ranee and the Sowkar's wife to find Mahdeo) said to\nKoila, \"Son-in-law, you are a lazy fellow; you have been here now for\na long time, but you do nothing for your support; it is we who have to\npay for your food, we who have to provide your clothes. Go now and\nfetch us some money, or I will turn you out of the house, and you\nshall never see your wife Moulee again.\" Koila had no money to give\nhis mother-in-law: then, for the first time he bethought him of his\nown country and of Chandra, and he said \"My first wife, who lives in\nmy own country, has on her feet two bangles of very great value; let\nme return home and fetch one of them to sell, which will more than pay\nwhatever I owe you.\" The Nautch people consented. So Koila returned to\nhis own home, and told Chandra what he wanted the money for, and asked\nher to let him have one of her bangles; but she refused, saying, \"You\nhave been away a long, long time, and left me all alone, and chosen\nfor your second wife one of the Nautch people, and become one of them;\nand now you want to take one of my bangles--the bangles that I had\nwhen a little child, that have grown with my growth, and never been\ntaken off--and to give it to your other wife. This shall not be; go\nback, if you will, to your new friends, but I will not give you my\nbangle.\"\n\nHe answered, \"They gave me an enchanted drink which made me forget you\nfor a time, but I am weary of them all; let me but go and pay my\nmother-in-law the money I owe her for food and clothes, and I will\nreturn and live in my own land, for you are my first wife.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" she said, \"you may take the bangle and sell it, and give\nthe money to your second wife's mother, but take me also with you when\nyou go; do not leave me here all alone again.\" Koila agreed, and they\nboth set off together toward the Madura Tinivelly country.\n\nAs they journeyed, Krishnaswami,[102] who was playing at cards with\nhis three wives, saw them, and when he saw them he laughed. Then his\nwives said to him, \"Why do you laugh? You have not laughed for such a\nlong time: what amuses you so much now?\" He answered, \"I am laughing\nto see Koila and his wife Chandra Ranee journeying toward the Madura\nTinivelly country. He is going to sell his wife's bangle, and he will\nonly be killed, and then she in anger will burn up all the country. O\nfoolish people!\" The goddesses answered, \"This is a very dreadful\nthing; let us go in disguise and warn him not to enter the country.\"\n\"It would be useless,\" said Krishnaswami; \"if you do, he will only\nlaugh at you and get angry with you.\" But the goddesses determined to\ndo their best to avert the threatened calamity. So they disguised\nthemselves as old fortune-tellers, and went out with little lamps and\ntheir sacred books to meet Koila as he came along the road, followed\nby his wife. Then they said to him, \"Come not into the Madura\nTinivelly country, for if you come you will be killed, and your wife\nin her fury will burn all the land with fire.\" At first, Koila would\nnot listen to them; then he bade them go away; and lastly, when they\ncontinued warning him, got angry and beat them out of his path,\nsaying, \"Do you think I am to be frightened out of the country by a\nparcel of old crones like you?\"\n\n [102] The Hindoo god Krishna, an incarnation of Vishnu.\n\nThen Krishnaswami's three wives returned to him, much enraged at the\ntreatment they had received; but he only said to them, \"Did not I tell\nyou not to go, warning you that it would be useless?\"\n\nOn getting near the Rajah's capital, Koila and Chandra came to the\nhouse of an old milk-seller, who was very kind to them and gave them\nfood and shelter for the night. Next morning Koila said to his wife,\n\"You had better stay here; this good old woman will take care of you\nwhile I go into the town to sell your bangle.\" Chandra agreed, and\nremained at the old woman's house while her husband went into the\ntown. Of course he did not know that the Rajah and his wife (the\nCoplinghee Ranee) were Chandra's father and mother, any more than\nthey, or Chandra herself, knew it, or than the three mango children\nknew the story of their mothers' journey in search of Mahdeo.\n\nNow a short time before Koila and Chandra reached the Madura\nTinivelly country, Coplinghee Ranee had sent a very handsome pair of\nbangles to a Jeweler in the town to be cleaned. It chanced that in a\nhigh tree close to the Jeweler's house two eagles had built their\nnest, and the young eagles, who were very noisy birds, used to scream\nall day long and greatly disturb the Jeweler's family. So one day,\nwhen the old birds were away, the Jeweler's son climbed up the tree\nand pulled down the nest, and put the young eagles to death. When the\nold birds returned home and saw what was done, it grieved them very\nmuch, and they said, \"These cruel people have killed our children; let\nus punish them.\" And seeing in the porch one of Coplinghee Ranee's\nbeautiful bangles, which the Jeweler had just been cleaning, they\nswooped down and flew away with it.[103]\n\n [103] See Notes at the end.\n\nThe Jeweler did not know what to do: he said to his wife, \"To buy such\na bangle as that would cost more than all our fortune, and to make one\nlike it would take many, many years; I dare not say I have lost it, or\nthey would think I had stolen it and put me to death. The only thing I\ncan do is to delay returning the other as long as possible, and try\nsomehow to get one like it.\" So next day, when the Ranee sent to\ninquire if her bangles were ready, he answered, \"They are not ready\nyet; they will be ready to-morrow.\" And the next day and the next he\nsaid the same thing. At last the Ranee's messengers got very angry at\nthe continued delays; then, seeing he could no longer make excuses,\nthe Jeweler sent the one bangle by them to the palace, beautifully\ncleaned, with a message that the other also would shortly be ready;\nbut all this time he was hunting for a bangle costly enough to take\nthe Ranee as a substitute for the one the eagles had carried away.\nSuch a bangle, however, he could not find.\n\nWhen Koila reached the town, he spread out a sheet in the corner of a\nstreet near the market-place, and, placing the bangle upon it, sat\ndown close by, waiting for customers. Now he was very, very handsome.\nAlthough dressed so plainly, he looked like a Prince, and the bangle\nhe had to sell flashed in the morning light like seven suns. Such a\nhandsome youth and such a beautiful bangle the people had never seen\nbefore; and many passers-by, with chattees on their heads, for\nwatching him, let the chattees tumble down and break, they were so\nmuch astonished; and several men and women, who were looking out of\nthe windows of their houses, leant too far forward and fell into the\nstreet, so giddy did they become from wonder and amazement!\n\nBut no one could be found to buy the bangle, for they all said, \"We\ncould not afford to buy such jewels; this bangle is fit only for a\nRanee to wear.\" At last, when the day had nearly gone, who should come\nby but the Jeweler who had been employed to clean Coplinghee Ranee's\nbangles, and was in search of one to replace that which the eagles had\nstolen. No sooner did he see the one belonging to Chandra, which Koila\nwas trying to sell, than he said to himself, \"That is the very thing I\nwant, if I can only get it.\" So he called his wife, and said to her,\n\"Go to that bangle-seller and speak kindly to him; say that the day is\nnearly gone, and invite him to come and lodge at our house for the\nnight. For if we can make friends with him and get him to trust us, I\nshall be able to take the bangle from him and say he stole it from\nme. And as he is a stranger here, every one will believe my word\nrather than his. This bangle is exactly the very thing for me to take\nCoplinghee Ranee, for it is very like her own, only more beautiful.\"\n\nThe Jeweler's wife did as she was told, and then the Jeweler himself\nwent up to Koila and said to him, \"You are a bangle-seller, and I am a\nbangle-seller; therefore I look upon you as a brother. Come home, I\npray you, with us, as my wife begs you to do, and we will give you\nfood and shelter for the night, since you are a stranger in this\ncountry.\" So these cunning people coaxed Koila to go home with them to\ntheir home, and pretended to be very kind to him, and gave him supper,\nand a bed to rest on for the night; but next morning early the Jeweler\nraised a hue and cry and sent for the police, and bade them take Koila\nbefore the Rajah instantly, since he had stolen and tried to sell one\nof Coplinghee Ranee's bangles, which he (the Jeweler) had been given\nto clean. It was in vain that Koila protested his innocence, and\ndeclared that the bangle he had belonged to his wife; he was a\nstranger--nobody would believe him. They dragged him to the palace,\nand the Jeweler accused him to the Rajah, saying, \"This man tried to\nsteal the Ranee's bangle (which I had been given to clean) and to sell\nit. If he had done so, you would have thought I had stolen it, and\nkilled me; I demand, therefore, that he in punishment shall be put to\ndeath.\"\n\nThen they sent for the Ranee to show her the bangle, but as soon as\nshe saw it she recognized it as one of the bangles which had belonged\nto Chandra, and burst into tears, crying, \"This is not my bangle. Oh,\nmy lord, no jeweler on earth made this bangle! See, it is different\nto mine; and when any one comes near it, it tinkles and all the little\nbells begin to ring. Have you forgotten it? This was my beauty's\nbangle! My diamond's! My little darling's! My lost child's! Where did\nit come from? How did it come here? How into this land, and into this\ntown and bazaar, among these wicked people? For this Jeweler must have\nkept my bangle and brought this one in its place. No human goldsmith's\nhands made this, for it is none other than Chandra's.\" Then she begged\nthe Rajah to inquire further about it.\n\nBut they all thought her mad; and the Jeweler said, \"It is the Ranee's\nfancy, for this is the same bangle she gave me to clean.\" The other\npeople also agreed that both the bangles were almost exactly alike,\nand must be a pair; and it being certain that Koila had had the bangle\nwhen he was seized by the police, the Rajah ordered him to be\ninstantly executed. But the Ranee took Chandra's bangle and locked it\naway in a strong cupboard, apart from all her other jewels.\n\nThen they took Koila out into the jungle and would have cut off his\nhead, but he said to his guards, \"If I must die, let me die by my own\nhands,\" and drawing his sword he fell upon it, and as the sword was\nvery sharp it cut his body in two--one half fell on one side of the\nsword, and the other half on the other side--and they left his body\nwhere it fell.\n\nWhen the news of what had taken place came to the town, many people\nwho had seen Koila selling his bangle the day before began to murmur,\nsaying, \"There must be some injustice here--the Rajah has been\nover-hasty. Most likely the poor man did not steal the bangle. It is\nnot likely that he would have tried to sell it openly before us all in\nthe bazaar if it had been stolen property. How cruel of the Rajah to\nput such a handsome, gentle, noble-looking youth to death!--and he was\na stranger, too!\" And many wept at thought of his hard fate. When the\nRajah heard of this he was very angry, and sent and commanded that the\nmatter should be no further discussed in the town, saying, \"If any one\nspeaks another word of what has been done, or laments or sheds tears\nfor the dead, he shall be instantly hanged.\" Then the people all felt\nvery frightened, and not a soul dared to speak of Koila, though every\none thought about him much.\n\nEarly the very morning that this happened the old milk-seller (at\nwhose house, which was a little out of the town, Chandra had been\nsleeping) took her guest a bowl full of milk to drink; but no sooner\nhad Chandra tasted it than she began to cry, saying, \"Good mother,\nwhat have you done? my mouth is full of blood!\" \"No, no, my daughter,\"\nanswered the old woman; \"you must have been dreaming some bad dream.\nSee, this is pure, fresh, warm milk I have brought you; drink again.\"\nBut when Chandra tasted it for the second time, she answered, \"Oh no!\noh no! it is not milk that I taste, but blood. All last night I had a\ndreadful dream, and this morning when I woke I found that my marriage\nnecklace had snapped in two; and now this milk tastes to me as blood.\nLet me go! let me go! for I know my husband is dead.\"\n\nThe old woman tried to comfort her, saying, \"Why should you fancy he\nis dead? he was quite well yesterday, when he went to sell your\nbangle; and he said he would come back to you soon; in a little while,\nvery likely, he will be here.\" But she answered, \"No, no; I feel sure\nthat he is dead! Oh, let me go! for I must find him before I die.\"\nThen the old woman said, \"You must not go; you are too beautiful to\nrun about through the streets of this strange town alone, and your\nhusband would be very angry if he saw you doing so; and who knows but\nthat you might lose your way, and get carried off as a slave;\nremember, he told you to stay here till he returned. Be patient;\nremain where you are, and I will go quickly into the town and seek\nyour husband. If he is alive, I will bring him back to you, and if he\nis dead I will bring you word.\" So, taking a chattee full of milk on\nher head, as if to sell, she went to the town to find Koila, while\nevery minute seemed an hour to Chandra until her return.\n\nWhen the old milk-seller reached the town, she went up and down all\nthe streets looking for Koila, or expecting to hear some one mention\nthe handsome stranger who had gone to sell such a wonderful bangle the\nday before. But she could not find him, nor did she hear him spoken\nof, for all were afraid to say a word about him on account of the\nRajah's decree. Being unable to trace him, the old woman got\nsuspicious, and began to search, more carefully than before, down all\nthe streets near the market-place, where she thought he was most\nlikely to have gone; but, lest people should wonder at her errand, she\ncalled out each time as if she had some different thing to sell.\nFirst, \"Buy some milk--who'll buy milk--who'll buy?\" Then, on going\nfor a second time down the same street, \"Buy butter--butter! very fine\nbutter!\" and so on. At last one woman, who had been watching her with\nsome curiosity, said, \"Old woman, what nonsense you talk! you have\nbeen half-a-dozen times up and down this same street, as if you had\nhalf-a-dozen different things to sell in that one chattee. Any one\nwould think you had as little sense as that pretty young bangle-seller\nyesterday, who spent all the day trying to sell a bangle, and got put\nto death for his pains.\"\n\n\"Of whom do you speak?\" asked the old woman. \"Oh,\" said the other, \"I\nsuppose, as you're a milk-seller from the country, you know nothing\nabout it. But that's not to be talked about, for the Rajah has said\nthat whoever speaks of him or mourns him shall be instantly hanged.\nAh! he was very handsome.\"\n\n\"Where is he now?\" whispered the old woman. \"There,\" answered the\nother; \"you can see the place where that crowd of people has\ncollected. The Rajah's Jeweler accused him of having stolen the\nbangle; so he was executed, many thought unjustly; but do not say I\nsaid it.\" And so saying, she pointed toward the jungle some way off.\nThe old woman ran to the place, but when she there saw two halves of\nKoila's body lying side by side, stiff and cold, she threw her earthen\nchattee down on the ground and fell on her knees, crying bitterly. The\nnoise attracted the attention of the Rajah's guards, some of whom\nimmediately seized her, saying, \"Old woman, it is against the law to\nlament that dead man or murmur at the Rajah's decree; you deserve to\nbe put to death.\" But she answered quickly, \"The dead man! I do not\ncry for the dead man: can you not see that my chattee is broken and\nall the milk spilt? Is it not enough to make one weep?\" And she began\nto cry again. \"Hush! hush!\" they answered; \"don't cry; come, the\nchattee wasn't worth much; it was only an earthen thing. Stop your\ntears, and maybe we'll give you a chattee of gold.\"\n\n\"I neither care for your golden chattees nor for silver,\" she said,\nangrily. \"Go away; go away! my earthen chattee was worth them all. My\ngrandfather's grandfather and my grandmother's grandmother used this\nchattee; and to think that it should now be broken and all the milk\nspilt!\" And picking up the broken pieces, she went home sobbing, as if\nthe loss of her chattee was all her grief. But when she got to her own\nhouse, she ran into where Chandra was, crying, \"Alas! my pretty child!\nalas, my daughter! your fears are true!\" and as gently as she could\nshe told her what had happened.\n\nNo sooner did Chandra hear it than she ran away straight to the\nRajah's palace in the midst of the town, and rushing into the room\nwhere he was, said, \"How did you dare to kill my husband?\"\n\nNow, at the sound of her voice, her bangle, which the Ranee had locked\nup in the cupboard, broke through all the intervening doors and rolled\nto Chandra's feet.\n\nThe Rajah was unable to answer her a word. Then she fell on her knees\nand rent her clothes and tore her hair; and when she tore it all the\nland began to burn and all her hair burned too.\n\nThen the old milk-seller, who had followed her, ran and put a lump of\nbutter on her head, thinking to cool it; and two other woman, who were\nby, fetched water to pour upon her hair, but by this time nineteen\nlines of houses were in flames. Then the old woman cried, \"Oh! spare\nthe Purwari[104] lines; don't burn them down, for I did all I could\nfor you.\" So Chandra did not burn that part of the town near which the\nold woman and her friends lived. But the fire burnt on and on in the\nother direction; and it killed the Rajah and the Ranee and all the\npeople in the palace, and the wicked Jeweler and his wife; and as he\nwas dying Chandra tore out his heart and gave it to the eagles who\nhovered overhead, saying, \"Here is vengeance for the death of your\nlittle ones.\" And the Nautch girl, Moulee, and her mother, who were\nwatching the fire from far off, were smothered in the flames.[105]\n\n [104] Or outcasts'; literally, \"the extra-muralists',\" _i.e._, the\n houses of the lowest classes, not permitted to live within the city\n walls.\n\n [105] See Notes at the end.\n\nThen Chandra went to where Koila's dead body lay and wept over it\nbitterly; and as she was weeping, there fell down to her from heaven a\nneedle and thread; and she took them, saying, \"Oh, that I could by any\nmeans restore you!\" and, placing the two halves of his body side by\nside, she sewed them together.\n\nAnd when she had done this, she cried to Mahdeo, saying, \"Sire, I have\ndone the best I can; I have joined the body; give it life.\" And as she\nsaid these words Mahdeo had pity on her, and he sent Koila's spirit\nback and it returned to his body again. Then Chandra was glad, and\nthey returned and lived in their own land.\n\nBut to this day in the Madura Tinivelly country you can trace where\nall the land was burnt.\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXXIII.\n\n_HOW THE THREE CLEVER MEN OUTWITTED THE DEMONS._\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a very rich man who had a very beautiful\nwife, and this man's chief amusement used to be shooting with a bow\nand arrow, at which he was so clever that every morning he would shoot\nthrough one of the pearls in his wife's nose-ring without hurting her\nat all.[106] One fine day, that was a holiday, the Pearl-shooter's\nbrother-in-law came to take his sister to their father and mother's\nhouse to pay her own family a little visit; and when he saw her, he\nsaid, \"Why do you look so pale and thin and miserable? is your husband\nunkind to you, or what is the matter?\" \"No,\" she answered; \"my husband\nis very kind to me, and I have plenty of money and jewels, and as nice\na house as I could wish; my only grief is that every morning he amuses\nhimself by shooting one of the pearls from my nose-ring, and that\nfrightens me; for I think perhaps some day he may miss his aim and the\narrow run into my face and kill me. So I am in constant terror of my\nlife; yet I do not like to ask him not to do it, because it gives him\nso much pleasure; but if he left off of his own accord, I should be\nvery glad.\" \"What does he say to you himself about it?\" asked the\nbrother. \"Every day,\" she replied, \"when he has shot the pearl, he\ncomes to me quite happy and proud, and says, 'Was there ever a man as\nclever as I am?' and I answer him, 'No, I do not think there ever was\nany as clever as you.'\" \"Do not say so again,\" said the brother; \"but\nnext time he asks you the question, answer, 'Yes, there are many men\nin the world more clever than you.'\" The Pearl-shooter's wife promised\nto take her brother's advice. So, next time her husband shot the pearl\nfrom her nose-ring, and said to her, \"Was there ever a man as clever\nas I am?\" she answered, \"Yes, there are many men in the world more\nclever than you.\"\n\n [106] See Notes at the end.\n\nThen he said, \"If so be that there are, I will not rest until I have\nfound them.\" And he left her, and went a far journey into the jungle\nin order to find, if possible, a cleverer man than himself. On, on, on\nhe journeyed a very long way, until at last he came to a large river,\nand on the river-bank sat a traveler eating his dinner. The\nPearl-shooter sat down beside him and the two began conversing\ntogether. At last, the Pearl-shooter said to his friend, \"What is the\nreason of your journey, and where are you going?\" The stranger\nanswered, \"I am a Wrestler, and the strongest man in all this country;\nI can do many wonderful things in the way of wrestling and carrying\nheavy weights, and I began to think that in all this world there was\nno one so clever as I; but I have lately heard of a still more\nwonderful man who lives in a distant country, and who is so clever\nthat every morning he shoots one of the pearls from his wife's\nnose-ring without hurting her. So I go to find him, and learn if this\nis true.\"\n\nThe Pearl-shooter answered, \"Then you need travel no further, for I\nam that man of whom you heard.\" \"Why are you traveling about, then,\nand where are you going?\" asked the Wrestler. \"I,\" replied the other,\n\"am also traveling to see if in all the world I can find a cleverer\nman than myself; therefore, as we have both the same object in view,\nlet us be as brothers and go about together; perhaps there is still in\nthe world a better man than we.\" The Wrestler agreed; so they both\nstarted on their way together. They had not gone very far before they\ncame to a place where three roads met, and there sat another man, whom\nneither of them had ever seen before. He accosted the Wrestler and the\nPearl-shooter and said to them, \"Who are you, friends, and where are\nyou going?\" \"We,\" answered they, \"are two clever men, who are\ntraveling through the world to see if we can find a cleverer man than\nwe; but who may you be, and where are you going?\" \"I,\" replied the\nthird man, \"am a Pundit,[107] a man of memory, renowned for my good\nhead, a great thinker; and verily I thought there was not in the world\na more wonderful man than I; but having heard of two men in distant\nlands of very great cleverness, the one of whom is a Wrestler, and the\nother a shooter of pearls from his wife's nose-ring, I go to find them\nand learn if the things I heard are true.\" \"They are true,\" said the\nothers; \"for we, O Pundit, are the very two men of whom you speak.\"\n\n [107] Wise man.\n\nAt this news the Pundit was overjoyed, and cried, \"Then let us be as\nbrothers; since your homes are far distant, return with me to my\nhouse, which is close by; there you can rest a while, and each of us\nput our various powers to the proof.\" This proposal pleased the\nWrestler and the Pearl-shooter, who accompanied the Pundit to his\nhouse.\n\nNow, in the kitchen there was an enormous cauldron of iron, so heavy\nthat five-and-twenty men could hardly move it; and in the dead of\nnight the Wrestler, to prove his power, got up from the veranda where\nhe was sleeping, and as quietly as possible lifted this great cauldron\non his shoulders and carried it down to the river, where he waded with\nit into the deepest part of the water, and there buried it. After\nhaving accomplished this feat, he returned to the Pundit's house as\nquietly as he had left it, and, rolling himself up in his blanket,\nfell fast asleep. But though he had come never so softly, the Pundit's\nwife heard him, and waking her husband, she said, \"I hear footsteps as\nof people creeping quietly about and not wishing to be heard, and but\na little while ago I noticed the same thing; perhaps there are thieves\nin the house; let us go and see: it is strange they should choose such\na bright moonlight night.\" And they both got up quickly and walked\nround the house. They found nothing, however, out of order, nor any\nsigns of anything having been touched or disarranged, until they came\nto the kitchen. And, indeed, at first they thought all was as they\nleft it there, when, just as they were going away, the Pundit's wife\ncried out to him, \"Why, what has become of the great cauldron? I never\nthought of looking to see if that was safe; for it did not seem\npossible that it could have been moved.\" And they both looked inside\nthe house and outside, but the cauldron was nowhere to be seen. At\nlast, however, they discovered deep footprints in the sand close to\nthe kitchen door, as of some one who had been carrying a very heavy\nweight, and these they traced down to the river-side.\n\nThen the Pundit said, \"Some one immensely strong has evidently done\nthis, for here are the footprints of one man only; and he must have\nburied the cauldron in the water, for, see, there is no continuation\nof the footprints on the other side. I wonder who can have done it?\nLet us go and see that our two guests are asleep; perhaps the Wrestler\nplayed us this trick to prove his great strength.\" And with his wife\nhe went into the veranda, where the Pearl-shooter and the Wrestler lay\nrolled up in their blankets, fast asleep. First, they looked at the\nPearl-shooter; but on seeing him the Pundit shook his head, saying,\n\"No, he certainly has not done this thing.\" They then looked at the\nWrestler, and the cunning Pundit licked the skin of the sleeping man,\nand, turning to his wife, whispered, \"This is assuredly the man who\nstole the cauldron and put it in the river, for he must have been but\nlately up to his neck in fresh water, since there is no taste of salt\non his skin from his foot even to his shoulders. To-morrow I will\nsurprise him by showing him I know this.\" And so saying, the Pundit\ncrept back into the house, followed by his wife.\n\nNext morning early, as soon as it was light, the Pearl-shooter and the\nWrestler were accosted by their host, who said to them, \"Let us go\ndown to the river and have a wash, for I cannot offer you a bath,\nsince the great cauldron, in which we generally bathe, has been\nmysteriously carried away this very night.\" \"Where can it have gone?\"\nsaid the Wrestler. \"Ah, where indeed?\" answered the Pundit; and he led\nthem down to where the cauldron had been put into the river by the\nWrestler the night before, and wading about in the water until he\nfound it, pointed it out to him, saying, \"See, friend, how far this\ncauldron traveled!\" The Wrestler was much surprised to find that the\nPundit knew where the cauldron was hidden, and said, \"Who can have put\nit there?\" \"I will tell you,\" answered the Pundit; \"why, I think it\nwas you!\" And then he related how his wife had heard footsteps, and,\nbeing afraid of thieves, had awakened him the night before, and how\nthey had discovered that the cauldron was missing, and traced it down\nto the river-side; and then how he had found out that the Wrestler had\njust before been into the water up to his neck. The Wrestler and the\nPearl-shooter were both much astonished at the Pundit's wisdom in\nhaving found this out; and the Pearl-shooter said to himself, \"Both\nthese men are certainly more clever than I.\" Then the three clever men\nreturned to the house, and were very happy and joyful, and amused\nthemselves laughing and talking all the rest of the day; and when\nevening came, the Pundit said to the Wrestler, \"Let us to-night forego\nall meagre fare and have a royal feast; friend Strongman, pray you go\nand catch the fattest of those goats that we see upon the hills\nyonder, and we will cook it for our dinner.\" The Wrestler assented,\nand ran on and on until he reached the flock of goats browsing upon\nthe hill-side. Now, just at that moment a wicked little Demon came by\nthat way, and on seeing the Wrestler looking at the goats (to see\nwhich seemed the finest to take home to dinner), he thought to\nhimself, \"If I can make him choose me, and take me home with him for\nhis dinner, I shall be able to play him and his friends some fine\ntricks.\" So, quick as thought, he changed himself into a very\nhandsome goat, and when the Wrestler saw this one goat, so much taller\nand finer and fatter than all the rest, he ran and caught hold of him\nand tucked him under his arm, to carry him home for dinner. The goat\nkicked and kicked and jumped about, and tried to butt more fiercely\nthan the Wrestler had ever known any mortal goat do before, but still\nhe held him tight and brought him in triumph to the Pundit's door. The\nPundit heard him coming and ran out to meet him; but when he saw the\ngoat, he started back quite frightened, for the Wrestler was holding\nit so tight that its eyes were almost starting out of its head, and\nthey were fiery and evil-looking and burning like two living coals,\nand the Pundit saw at once that it was a Demon, and no goat, that his\nfriend held; then he thought quickly, \"If I appear to be frightened,\nthis cruel Demon will get into the house and devour us all; I must\nendeavor to intimidate him.\" So, in a bold voice, he cried, \"O\nWrestler! Wrestler! foolish friend! what have you done? We asked you\nto fetch a fat goat for our dinner, and here you have only brought one\nwretched little Demon. If you could not find goats, while you were\nabout it you might as well have brought more Demons, for we are hungry\npeople. My children are each accustomed to eat one Demon a day, and my\nwife eats three, and I myself eat twelve, and here you have only\nbrought one between us all! What are we to do?\" At hearing these\nreproaches, the Wrestler was so much astonished that he dropped the\nDemon-goat, who, for his part, was so frightened at the Pundit's\nwords, that he came crawling along quite humbly upon his knees,\nsaying, \"Oh, sir, do not eat me, do not eat me, and I will give you\nanything you like in the world. Only let me go, and I will fetch you\nmountains of treasure, rubies and diamonds, and gold and precious\nstones beyond all count. Do not eat me; only let me go!\" \"No, no,\"\nsaid the Pundit; \"I know what you'll do; you'll just go away and never\nreturn: we are very hungry; we do not want gold and precious stones,\nbut we want a good dinner; we must certainly eat you.\" The Demon\nthought all that the Pundit said must be true, he spoke so fearlessly\nand naturally. So he only repeated more earnestly, \"Only let me go; I\npromise you to return and bring you all the riches that you could\ndesire.\"\n\nThe Pundit was too wise to seem glad; but he said sternly, \"Very well,\nyou may go; but unless you return quickly and bring the treasure you\npromise, be you in the uttermost part of the earth, we will find you\nand eat you, for we are more powerful than you and all your fellows.\"\n\nThe Demon, who had just experienced how much stronger the Wrestler was\nthan ordinary men, and then heard from the Pundit's own lips of his\nlove for eating Demons, thought himself exceedingly lucky to have\nescaped their clutches so easily; and returning to his own land, he\nfetched from the Demons' storehouse a vast amount of precious things,\nwith which he was flying away with all speed (in order to pay his debt\nand avoid being afterward hunted and eaten), when several of his\ncomrades caught hold of him, and in angry tones asked where he was\ncarrying away so much of their treasure. The Demon answered, \"I take\nit to save my life; for whilst wandering round the world I was caught\nby terrible creatures, more dreadful than the sons of men, and they\nthreaten to eat me unless I bring the treasure.\"\n\n\"We should like to see these dreadful creatures,\" answered they, \"for\nwe never before heard of mortals who devoured Demons.\" To which he\nreplied, \"These are not ordinary mortals; I tell you they are the\nfiercest creatures I ever saw, and would devour our Rajah, himself,\ndid they get the chance; one of them said that he daily ate twelve\nDemons, that his wife ate three, and each of his children one.\" At\nhearing this they consented to let him go for the time; but the Demon\nRajah commanded him to return with all speed next day, that the matter\nmight be further discussed in solemn council.\n\nWhen, after three days' absence, the Demon returned to the Pundit's\nhouse with the treasure, the Pundit angrily said to him, \"Why have you\nbeen so long away? You promised to return as soon as possible.\" He\nanswered, \"All my fellow-Demons detained me, and would hardly let me\ngo, they were so angry at my bringing you so much treasure; and though\nI told them how great and powerful you are, they would not believe me,\nbut will, as soon as I return, judge me in solemn council for serving\nyou.\" \"Where is your solemn council held?\" asked the Pundit. \"Oh, very\nfar, far away,\" answered the Demon, \"in the depths of the jungle,\nwhere our Rajah daily holds his court.\" \"I and my friends should like\nto see that place, and your Rajah and all his court,\" said the Pundit;\n\"you must take us with you when you go, for we have absolute mastery\nover all Demons, even over their Rajah himself, and unless you do as\nwe command we shall be very angry.\" \"Very well,\" answered the Demon,\nfor he felt quite frightened at the Pundit's fierce words; \"mount on\nmy back and I'll take you there.\" So the Pundit, the Wrestler and the\nPearl-shooter all mounted the Demon, and he flew away with them, on,\non, on, as fast as wings could cut the air, till they reached the\ngreat jungle where the durbar[108] was to be held, and there he placed\nthem all on the top of a high tree just over the Demon Rajah's throne.\nIn a few minutes the Pearl-shooter, the Wrestler and the Pundit heard\na rushing noise, and thousands and thousands of Demons filled the\nplace, covering the ground as far as the eye could reach, and\nthronging chiefly round the Rajah's throne; but they did not notice\nthe men in the tree above them. Then the Rajah ordered that the Demon\nwho had taken of their treasure to give to mortals should be brought\nto judgment; and when they had dragged the culprit into the midst of\nthem, they accused him, and having proved him guilty, would have\npunished him; but he defended himself stoutly, saying, \"Noble Rajah,\nthose who forced me to fetch them treasure were no ordinary mortals,\nbut great and terrible; they said they ate many Demons; the man ate\ntwelve a day, his wife ate three, and each of his children one. He\nsaid, moreover, that he and his friends were more powerful than us\nall, and ruled your majesty as absolutely as we are ruled by you.\" The\nDemon Rajah answered, \"Let us see these great people of whom you\nspeak, and we will believe you; but----\" At this moment the tree upon\nwhich the Pundit, the Pearl-shooter and the Wrestler were, broke, and\ndown they all tumbled--first, the Wrestler, then the Pearl-shooter,\nand lastly the Pundit--upon the head of the Demon Rajah as he sat in\njudgment. They seemed to have come down from the sky, so suddenly did\nthey appear, and, being very much alarmed at their awkward position\ndetermined to take the aggressive. So the Wrestler kicked and hugged\nand beat the Rajah with all his might and main, and the Pearl-shooter\ndid likewise, while the Pundit, who was perched up a little higher\nthan either of the others, cried, \"So be it, so be it. We will eat him\nfirst for dinner, and afterward we will eat all the other Demons.\" The\nDemons hearing this, one and all flew away from the confusion and left\ntheir Rajah to his fate; while he cried, \"Oh spare me! spare me! I see\nit is all true; only let me go, and I will give you as much treasure\nas you like.\" \"No, no,\" said the Pundit; \"don't listen to him,\nfriends; we will eat him for dinner.\" And the Wrestler and the\nPearl-shooter kicked and beat him harder than before. Then the Demon\ncried again, \"Let me go! let me go!\" \"No, no,\" they answered; and they\nchastised him vigorously for the space of an hour, until, at last,\nfearing they should get tired, the Pundit said, \"The treasure would be\nno use to us here in the jungle; but if you brought us a very great\ndeal to our own house, we might give up eating you for dinner to-day;\nyou must, however, give us great compensation, for we are all very\nhungry.\" To this the Demon Rajah gladly agreed, and, calling together\nhis scattered subjects, ordered them to take the three valiant men\nhome again and convey the treasure to the Pundit's house. The little\nDemons obeyed his orders with much fear and trembling, but they were\nvery willing to do their best to get the Pundit, the Pearl-shooter and\nthe Wrestler out of Demon-land, and they, for their parts, were no\nless anxious to go. When they got home, the Pundit said, \"You shall\nnot go until the engagement is fulfilled.\" Instantly Demons without\nnumber filled the house with riches, and when they had accomplished\ntheir task, they all flew away, fearing greatly the terrible Pundit\nand his friends, who talked of eating Demons as men would eat almonds\nand raisins. So, by never showing that he was afraid, this brave\nPundit saved his family from being eaten by these Demons, and also got\na vast amount of treasure. Then he divided it into three equal\nportions: a third he gave to the Wrestler, a third he gave to the\nPearl-shooter, and a third he kept himself; after which he sent his\nfriends, with many kindly words, back to their own homes. So the\nPearl-shooter returned to his house laden with gold and jewels of\npriceless worth; and when he got there, he called his wife and gave\nthem to her, saying, \"I have been a far journey and brought back all\nthese treasures for you, and I have learnt that your words were true,\nsince in the world there are cleverer men than I; for mine is a\ncleverness that profits not, and but for a Pundit and a Wrestler, I\nshould not have gained these riches. I will shoot the pearl from your\nnose-ring no more.\" And he never did.\n\n [108] Council.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n[Decoration]\n\nXXIV.\n\n_THE ALLIGATOR AND THE JACKAL._\n\n\nA hungry jackal once went down to the river-side in search of little\ncrabs, bits of fish and whatever else he could find for his dinner.\nNow it chanced that in this river there lived a great big Alligator,\nwho, being also very hungry, would have been extremely glad to eat the\nJackal.\n\nThe Jackal ran up and down, here and there, but for a long time could\nfind nothing to eat. At last, close to where the Alligator was lying\namong some tall bulrushes under the clear, shallow water, he saw a\nlittle crab sidling along as fast as his legs could carry him. The\nJackal was so hungry that when he saw this he poked his paw into the\nwater to try and catch the crab, when snap! the old Alligator caught\nhold of him. \"Oh dear!\" thought the Jackal to himself, \"what can I do?\nThis great big Alligator has caught my paw in his mouth, and in\nanother minute he will drag me down by it under the water and kill me.\nMy only chance is to make him think he has made a mistake.\" So he\ncalled out in a cheerful voice, \"Clever Alligator, clever Alligator,\nto catch hold of a bulrush root instead of my paw! I hope you find it\nvery tender.\" The Alligator, who was so buried among the bulrushes\nthat he could hardly see, thought, on hearing this, \"Dear me, how\ntiresome! I fancied I had caught hold of the Jackal's paw; but there\nhe is, calling out in a cheerful voice. I suppose I must have seized a\nbulrush root instead, as he says;\" and he let the Jackal go.\n\nThe Jackal ran away as fast as he could, crying, \"O wise Alligator,\nwise Alligator! So you let me go again!\" Then the Alligator was very\nmuch vexed, but the Jackal had run away too far to be caught. Next day\nthe Jackal returned to the river-side to get his dinner, as before;\nbut because he was very much afraid of the Alligator he called out,\n\"Whenever I go to look for my dinner, I see the nice little crabs\npeeping up through the mud; then I catch them and eat them. I wish I\ncould see one now.\"\n\nThe Alligator, who was buried in the mud at the bottom of the river,\nheard every word. So he popped the little point of his snout above it,\nthinking, \"If I do but just show the tip of my nose, the Jackal will\ntake me for a crab and put in his paw to catch me, and as soon as ever\nhe does I'll gobble him up.\"\n\nBut no sooner did the Jackal see the little tip of the Alligator's\nnose than he called out, \"Aha, my friend! there you are. No dinner for\nme in this part of the river, then, I think.\" And so saying he ran\nfarther on and fished for his dinner a long way from that place. The\nAlligator was very angry at missing his prey a second time, and\ndetermined not to let him escape again.\n\nSo on the following day, when his little tormentor returned to the\nwater-side, the Alligator hid himself close to the bank, in order to\ncatch him if he could. Now the Jackal was rather afraid going near the\nriver, for he thought, \"Perhaps this Alligator will catch me to-day.\"\nBut yet, being hungry, he did not wish to go without his dinner; so to\nmake all as safe as he could, he cried, \"Where are all the little\ncrabs gone? There is not one here and I am so hungry; and generally,\neven when they are under water, one can see them going bubble, bubble,\nbubble, and all the little bubbles go pop! pop! pop!\" On hearing this\nthe Alligator, who was buried in the mud under the river-bank,\nthought, \"I will pretend to be a little crab.\" And he began to blow,\n\"Puff, puff, puff! Bubble, bubble, bubble!\" and all the great big\nbubbles rushed to the surface of the river and burst there, and the\nwaters eddied round and round like a whirlpool; and there was such a\ncommotion when the huge monster began to blow bubbles in this way that\nthe Jackal saw very well who must be there, and he ran away as fast as\nhe could, saying, \"Thank you, kind Alligator, thank you; thank you!\nIndeed I would not have come here had I known you were so close.\"\n\nThis enraged the Alligator extremely; it made him quite cross to think\nof being so often deceived by a little Jackal, and he said to himself,\n\"I will be taken in no more. Next time I will be very cunning.\" So for\na long time he waited and waited for the Jackal to return to the\nriver-side; but the Jackal did not come, for he had thought to\nhimself, \"If matters go on in this way, I shall some day be caught and\neaten by the wicked old Alligator. I had better content myself with\nliving on wild figs,\" and he went no more near the river, but stayed\nin the jungles and ate wild figs, and roots which he dug up with his\npaws.\n\nWhen the Alligator found this out, he determined to try and catch the\nJackal on land; so, going under the largest of wild fig trees, where\nthe ground was covered with the fallen fruit, he collected a quantity\nof it together, and, burying himself under the great heap, waited for\nthe Jackal to appear. But no sooner did the cunning little animal see\nthis great heap of wild figs all collected together, than he thought,\n\"That looks very like my friend the Alligator.\" And to discover if it\nwas so or not, he called out, \"The juicy little wild figs I love to\neat always tumble down from the tree, and roll here and there as the\nwind drives them; but this great heap of figs is quite still; these\ncannot be good figs; I will not eat any of them.\" \"Ho, ho!\" thought\nthe Alligator, \"is that all? How suspicious this Jackal is! I will\nmake the figs roll about a little then, and when he sees that he will\ndoubtless come and eat them.\"\n\nSo the great beast shook himself, and all the heap of little figs went\nroll, roll, roll--some a mile this way, some a mile that, farther than\nthey had ever rolled before or than the most blustering wind could\nhave driven them.\n\nSeeing this, the Jackal scampered away, saying, \"I am so much obliged\nto you, Alligator, for letting me know you are there, for indeed I\nshould hardly have guessed it. You were so buried under that heap of\nfigs.\" The Alligator, hearing this, was so angry that he ran after the\nJackal, but the latter ran very, very fast away, too quickly to be\ncaught.\n\nThen the Alligator said to himself, \"I will not allow that little\nwretch to make fun of me another time and then run away out of reach;\nI will show him that I can be more cunning than he fancies.\" And early\nthe next morning he crawled as fast as he could to the Jackal's den\n(which was a hole in the side of a hill) and crept into it, and hid\nhimself, waiting for the Jackal, who was out, to return home. But when\nthe Jackal got near the place, he looked about him and thought, \"Dear\nme! the ground looks as if some heavy creature had been walking over\nit, and here are great clods of earth knocked down from each side of\nthe door of my den, as if a very big animal had been trying to squeeze\nhimself through it. I certainly will not go inside until I know that\nall is safe there.\" So he called out, \"Little house, pretty house, my\nsweet little house, why do you not give an answer when I call? If I\ncome, and all is safe and right, you always call out to me. Is\nanything wrong, that you do not speak?\"\n\nThen the Alligator, who was inside, thought, \"If that is the case I\nhad better call out, that he may fancy all is right in his house.\" And\nin as gentle a voice as he could, he said, \"Sweet little Jackal.\"\n\nAt hearing these words the Jackal felt quite frightened, and thought\nto himself, \"So the dreadful old Alligator is there. I must try to\nkill him if I can, for if I do not he will certainly catch and kill me\nsome day.\" He therefore answered, \"Thank you, my dear little house. I\nlike to hear your pretty voice. I am coming in in a minute, but first\nI must collect firewood to cook my dinner.\" And he ran as fast as he\ncould, and dragged all the dry branches and bits of stick he could\nfind close up to the mouth of the den. Meantime, the Alligator inside\nkept as quiet as a mouse, but he could not help laughing a little to\nhimself, as he thought, \"So I have deceived this tiresome little\nJackal at last. In a few minutes he will run in here, and then won't I\nsnap him up!\" When the Jackal had gathered together all the sticks he\ncould find and put them round the mouth of his den, he set them on\nfire and pushed them as far into it as possible. There was such a\nquantity of them that they soon blazed up into a great fire, and the\nsmoke and flames filled the den and smothered the wicked old Alligator\nand burnt him to death, while the little Jackal ran up and down\noutside, dancing for joy and singing--\n\n\"How do you like my house, my friend? Is it nice and warm? Ding-dong!\nding-dong! The Alligator is dying! ding-dong, ding-dong! He will\ntrouble me no more. I have defeated my enemy! Ring-a-ting!\nding-a-ting! ding-ding-dong!\"\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nNOTES ON THE NARRATOR'S NARRATIVE.\n\n\nNOTE A.\n\nThe battle of Kirkee was the turning-point in the last Mahratta war,\nwhich sealed the fate of the Peishwa's dynasty and transferred the\nDeccan to British rule, and is naturally, in that part of India, still\nregarded, by all whose recollections go back to those days, as the one\ngreat event of modern history.\n\nWhen the collector of these tales was in India, the house temporarily\noccupied by the Governor of Bombay overlooked the field of battle, and\namong those who came to see the Governor on business or pleasure were\nsome--natives as well as Europeans--to whom the events of half a\ncentury ago were matters of living memory.\n\nOld soldiers would tell how the fidelity of the native Sepoys resisted\nall the bribes and threats of Bajee Row Peishwa, the absolute Brahmin\nruler of Poona, and thus, while the Peishwa hoped to effect his\npurpose by treachery, enabled Mr. Mountstuart Elphinstone to defer\nopen hostilities--a matter of vital importance to the operations of\nLord Hastings on the other side of India, in preparing for his great\ncampaign against the Pindarees.\n\nThe veterans would recount all the romantic incidents of the struggle\nwhich followed--how the \"old Toughs\" (now H. M.'s 103d Regiment), the\nonly European corps within reach, when at last slipped from the leash\nat Panwell, marched seventy-two miles straight up over the ghauts to\nPoona, with only a single three-hours' halt en route; how they closed\nup their ranks of travel-soiled warriors and entered the British lines\nwith band playing and colors flying; and how not a straggler dropped\nbehind, \"for all knew that there must be a battle soon.\" Their arrival\nwas the signal for the Peishwa to throw off the mask, and, as the\nBritish Residency was untenable, the English troops moved out to take\nup a safer position at Kirkee, about three miles from the city of\nPoona; and as they marched they saw all the houses of the Resident and\nhis suite fired by the enemy, who swarmed out of the city. As they\nformed in line of battle, they anxiously watched the native regiments\ncoming up on their flank from Dapoorie, for that was the moment for\nsuccessful treachery if the native soldiers were untrue! Not a Sepoy,\nhowever, in the British ranks wavered, though before the junction was\ncomplete a cloud of Mahratta cavalry poured down upon them, dashed\nthrough the opening left between the two lines, enveloped either flank\nof the little army, and attacked the European regiment in the rear.\nThen, as a last resource, the European regiment faced about their\nsecond rank, and kept up such a steady rolling fire to front and rear\nat the same time that but few of the eager horsemen ever came within\nspear's length of the British bayonets.\n\nOne of the most touching recollections of those times attracted our\nnotice almost the last day we spent at Kirkee. An old chief, Jadowrow\nof Malagaom, had come to take leave of the departing Governor. He was\nhead of one of the oldest Mahratta families, for his ancestors were\nfamous as a very ancient royal house before the Mohammedans invaded\nthe Deccan. The old man had borne arms as a youthful commander of\nhorse when the great Duke was at Poona in 1802, just before the battle\nof Assaye, had been greatly distinguished for his gallantry in the\nbattle of Kirkee, so fatal to his race, and had followed the fortunes\nof the Peishwa to the last. Disdaining to make separate terms for\nhimself with the English conqueror, he remained one of the few\nthoroughly faithful to his sovereign--not from love, for he loved not\nBajee Row, but \"because he had eaten his salt\"--and only after the\nPeishwa's surrender returned to his old castle near Poona. There for\nmany years he lived, hunting and hawking over his diminished acres,\nand greatly respected as a model of a gallant and honorable old chief;\nbut he could never be persuaded to revisit the capital of the\nMahrattas after its occupation by the English. \"He had no child,\" he\nsaid, \"and his race would die with him.\" At last, as years rolled on,\nan only son was born to him; and then, touched by some unexpected act\nof liberality on the part of the British government which would secure\nhis ancestral estate to this child of his old age, he resolved to go\nto Poona, and visited the Governor, whose temporary residence happened\nto overlook the battle-field of Kirkee. He gazed long and wistfully\nfrom the drawing-room windows and said, \"This place is much changed\nsince I was here last, fifty years ago. It was here the battle was\nfought, and it was from near this very spot that we charged down that\nslope on the English line as it formed beyond that brook. I never\nthought to have seen this place again.\"\n\nAlmost every hill, fort, and every large village round Poona, has some\ntradition, not only of the days of Alumgeer, Sivajee and of early\nMahratta history, but of the campaigns of Wellesley in 1802 and of the\nlast great struggle in 1817-18.\n\n\nNOTE B.\n\nAnna's remarks on the contrast between the present dearth and the\n\"good old times\" of cheap bread, when the rupee went so much further\nthan it does now, are very characteristic. The complaint, too, is very\nuniversal, and is to be heard in the household of public\nfunctionaries, the highest as well as the lowest, in every grade of\nnative society, and more or less in all parts of India.\n\nThe Narrator's notion, that \"The English fixed the rupee at sixteen\nannas,\" is another specimen of a very widespread Indian popular\ndelusion. The rupee always consisted of sixteen annas, for the anna\nmeans only the sixteenth part of anything, but to the poor the great\nmatter for consideration in all questions of currency is the quantity\nof small change they can get for the coin in which their wages are\npaid. Formerly this used to fluctuate with the price of copper, and\nthe quantity of copper change which a silver rupee would fetch varied\nas copper was cheap or dear, and was always greatest when the copper\ncurrency was most debased. The English introduced all over India a\nuniform currency of copper as well as of silver, and none of course\nwere greater gainers in the long run by this uniformity than the very\npoor.\n\n\nNOTE C.\n\nI am unable, at present, to give either the native words or music for\nthis curious little Calicut song. The second part is probably of\nPortuguese origin, or it may have been derived from the Syrian\nChristians, who have been settled on that coast since the earliest\nages.\n\nThe English translation of the words, as explained to me by Anna, is\nas follows:\n\n\nPART I.\n\nTHE SONG FROM THE SHIP.\n\n(_To be sung by one or more voices._)\n\n 1. Very far went the ship, in the dark, up and down, up and down.\n There was very little sky; the sailors couldn't see anything;\n rain was coming.\n\n 2. Now darkness, lightning and very little rain; but big flashes,\n two yards long, that looked as if they fell into the sea.\n\n 3. On the third day the captain looks out for land, shading his\n eyes with his hand. There may be land. The sailors say to him,\n \"What do you see?\" He answers, \"Far off is the jungle, and,\n swinging in a tree, is an old monkey, with two little monkeys\n in her arms. We must be nearing land.\"\n\n 4. Again the captain looks out; the sailors say to him, \"What do\n you see?\" He answers, \"On the shore there walks a pretty little\n maiden, with a chattee on her head; she skips and runs, and\n dances as she goes. We must be nearing land.\"\n\n 5. The storm begins to rage again, and hides the land: at last it\n clears a little. The sailors say to the captain, \"What do you\n see?\" He answers, \"I see a man ploughing; two bullocks draw\n the plough. We must be nearing land.\"\n\n It is all true; they have gained the shore.\n\n\nPART II.\n\nSONG FROM THE SHORE.\n\n(_To be sung by one or more voices._)\n\n 1. The ship's on the sea--\n Which way is it coming?\n Right home to land.\n What cargo has it?\n The ship brings the sacrament and praying beads.\n\n 2. The ship's on the sea--\n Which way is it coming?\n Right home to land.\n What cargo has it?\n The ship brings white paper and the Twelve Apostles.\n\n 3. The ship comes home to land--\n What cargo does it bring?\n Silver money, prophets and holy people.\n\n 4. The ship comes home to land--\n What does it bring?\n All the saints and holy people, and Jesus Christ of Nazareth.\n\n 5. The ship comes to our doors--\n Who brings it home?\n Our Saviour.\n Our Saviour bless the ship, and bring it safely home.\n\nThe second song, \"The Little Wife Watching for her Husband's Return,\"\nAnna had almost entirely forgotten.\n\nIt was, she said, very pretty, being the song of the little wife as\nshe decks herself in her jewels to please her husband when he comes\nhome. She laments his absence, fears he has forgotten her and bemoans\nher loneliness.\n\n M. F.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES ON THE FAIRY LEGENDS.\n\n\nPUNCHKIN.\n\nPage 27.--The Rajah's seven daughters, taking it by turns to cook\ntheir father's dinner, would be nothing unusual in the household of a\nRajah. To a chief or great man in India, it is still the most natural\nprecaution he can take against poison to eat nothing but what has been\nprepared by his wife or daughter, or under their eye in his own\nzenana; and there are few accomplishments on which an Indian princess\nprides herself more than on her skill in cookery.\n\n\nRAMA AND LUXMAN.\n\nPage 107.--The little black and white owls, which fly out at dusk and\nsit always in pairs, chattering to each other in a singularly\nconversational version of owl language, are among the most\nwidely-spread of Indian birds, and in every province where they are\nfound are regarded as the most accomplished of soothsayers. Unlike\nother ominous creatures, they are anxious to do good to mankind, for\nthey always tell each other what the traveler ought to do, and, if\nmankind were not so dull in understanding their language, would save\nthe hearer from all risk of misfortune.\n\n\nLITTLE SURYA BAI.\n\nPage 118.--The sangfroid with which the first Ranee, here and in the\nstory of Panch-Phul Ranee, page 164, receives the second and more\nfavored wife to share her throne, however difficult to understand in\nthe West, is very characteristic of Oriental life. In Indian\nhouseholds of the highest rank it would not be difficult to find\nexamples of several wives living amicably together, as described in\nsome of these stories; but the contrary result, as depicted in this\nstory of Surya Bai and others, is far more common, for as a general\nrule human nature is too strong for custom, and under an external\nserenity bitter jealousies exist between the several wives of a royal\nHindoo household, which are a constant source of misery and crime.\nAmong the curious changes of opinion which are observable of late\nyears in the Indian empire, none is more remarkable than the\nconviction, now frequently expressed by the warmest supporters of\nnative governments at native courts, that the toleration of polygamy\nis one of their most serious dangers, the removal of which is of vital\nimportance to the safety of any Indian dynasty, and indeed to the\npermanence of any Indian family of rank.\n\n\nTHE WANDERINGS OF VICRAM MAHARAJAH.\n\nPage 131.--The Dipmal, or Tower of Lights, is an essential feature in\nevery large Hindoo temple. It is often of great height, and furnished\nwith niches or brackets, each of which holds a lamp on festivals,\nespecially on that of the Dewali, the feast of lamps celebrated in the\nautumn in honor of the Hindoo goddess Bowani or Kali, who was formerly\npropitiated on that occasion by human sacrifices.\n\nPage 132.--The story of Vicram's act of devotion is thoroughly Hindoo.\nIt is difficult to understand the universal prevalence and strength of\nthe conviction among Hindoos that the particular god of their\nadoration can be prevailed on, by importunity or self-devotion, to\nreveal to his worshiper some act, generally ascetic or sacrificial,\nthe performance of which will insure to the devotee the realization of\nthe object of his wishes. The act of devotion and the object of the\ndevotee are both often very trivial; but occasionally we are startled\nby hearing of some deed of horror, a human sacrifice or deliberate act\nof self-immolation, which is quite unaccountable to those who are not\naware that it is only a somewhat extreme manifestation of a belief\nwhich still influences the daily conduct of the great majority of the\nHindoos.\n\nAnd even those who have known the Hindoos long and intimately\nfrequently fail to recognize the extent to which this belief\ninfluences the ethics of common life and action in India. To quote an\ninstance from well-known history, there are few acts regarding which a\nEuropean traveler would expect the verdict of all mankind to be more\ngenerally condemnatory than the murder of Afzul Khan, the general of\nthe Imperial Delhi army, by Sivajee, the founder of the Mahratta\nempire. Sivajee, according to the well-known story, had invited his\nvictim to an amicable conference, and there stabbed him with a wag\nnuck[109] as they embraced at their first meeting. It was a deed of\nsuch deliberate and cruel treachery that it could find few defenders\nin Europe, even among the wildest advocates of political\nassassination. A European is consequently little prepared to find it\nregarded by Mahrattas generally as a most commendable act of devotion.\nThe Hindoo conscience condemns murder and treachery as emphatically as\nthe European; but this act, as viewed by the old-fashioned Mahratta,\nwas a sacrifice prescribed by direct revelation of the terrible\ngoddess Bowani to her faithful devotee. It was therefore highly\nmeritorious, and the beautiful Genoese blade which Sivajee always\nwore, and with which his victim was finally despatched, was, down to\nour own days, provided with a little temple of its own in the palace\nof his descendants, and annually worshiped by them and their\nhousehold--not as a mere act of veneration for their ancestor's trusty\nsword, but because it was the chosen instrument of a great sacrifice,\nand \"no doubt,\" as the attendant who watched it used to say, \"some of\nthe spirit of Bowani,\" whose name it bore, \"must still reside in it.\"\n\n [109] An instrument so called from its similarity to a tiger's claw.\n It consists of sharp curved steel blades set on a bar, which fits by\n means of finger-rings to the inside of the hand, so as to be\n concealed when the hand is closed, while the blades project at right\n angles to the cross bar and palm when the hand is opened. It is\n struck as in slapping or tearing with the claws.\n\nAn attentive observer will notice in the daily life of those around\nhim in India constant instances of this belief in the efficacy of acts\nof devotion and sacrifice to alter even the decrees of Fate. It is one\nof the many incentives to the long pilgrimages which form such a\nuniversal feature in Hindoo life, and the records of the courts of\njustice and the Indian newspapers constantly afford traces of its\nprevalence in cases of attempted suttee and other acts of\nself-immolation, or even of human sacrifice, such as are above alluded\nto. It must be remembered that Hindoo sacrifice has nothing but the\nname in common with the sacrifices which are a distinctive part of the\nreligion of every Semitic race. Many a difficulty which besets the\nHindoo inquirer after truth would be avoided if this essential\ndistinction were always known or remembered.\n\nPage 136.--This belief in the omnipotence of \"Muntrs,\" or certain\nverbal formulas, properly pronounced by one to whom they have been\nauthoritatively communicated, is closely allied to, and quite as\nuniversal as, the belief in the efficacy of sacrificial acts of\ndevotion. In every nation throughout India, whatever may be the\nvariations of creed or caste usage, it is a general article of belief,\naccepted by the vast majority of every class and caste of Hindoos,\nthat there is a form of words (or Muntr) which, to be efficacious, can\nbe only orally transmitted, but which, when so communicated by one of\nthe \"twice-born,\" has absolutely unlimited power over all things\nvisible or invisible, extending even to compelling the obedience of\nthe gods and of Fate itself. Of course it is rather dangerous, even\nfor the wisest, to meddle with such potent influences, and the attempt\nis usually confined to the affairs of common life; but of the absolute\nomnipotence of \"Muntrs\" few ordinary un-Europeanized Hindoos entertain\nany doubt, and there is hardly any part of their belief which\nexercises such an all-pervading and potent influence in their daily\nlife, though that influence is often but little understood by\nEuropeans.\n\nThe classical reader will remember many allusions to a similar belief\nas a part of the creeds imported from the East, which were fashionable\nunder the Empire at Rome. There is much curious information on the\nsubject of the earliest-known Hindoo Muntrs in the _Aitareya Brahmana_\nof the learned Dr. Haug, the only European who ever witnessed the\nwhole process of a Hindoo sacrifice. The reader who is curious on such\nmatters will do well to consult the recently-published work of\nProfessor Max Mueller, which might, without exaggeration, be described\nas a storehouse of new facts connected with the religion and\nliterature of the East, rather than by its modest title of _Chips from\na German Workshop_.\n\n\nHOW THE SUN, THE MOON AND THE WIND WENT OUT TO DINNER.\n\nPage 194.--I have not ventured to alter the traditional mode of the\nMoon's conveyance of dinner to her mother the Star, though it must, I\nfear, seriously impair the value of the story as a moral lesson in the\neyes of all instructors of youth.\n\n M. F.\n\n\nSINGH RAJAH AND THE CUNNING LITTLE JACKALS.\n\nPage 198.--This story is substantially the same as one well-known to\nreaders of Pilpai's _Fables_. The chorus of the Jackals' song of\ntriumph is an imitation of their nocturnal howl.\n\n\nTHE JACKAL, THE BARBER AND THE BRAHMIN.\n\nPage 203.--The touch of the poor outcast Mahars would be pollution to\na Hindoo of any but the lowest caste; hence their ready obedience to\nthe Jackal's exhortation not to touch him.\n\nThe offerings of rice, flowers, a chicken, &c., and the pouring water\nover the idol, are parts of the regular daily observance in every\nvillage temple.\n\n\nMUCHIE LAL.\n\nPage 265.--The popular belief in stories of this kind, where the Cobra\nbecomes the companion of human beings, is greatly strengthened by the\ninstances which occasionally occur when particular persons, sometimes\nchildren or idiots, possess the power to handle the deadly reptiles\nwithout receiving any injury from them. How much is due merely to\ngentleness of touch and fearlessness, and how much to any personal\npeculiarity which pleases the senses of the snake, it is difficult to\nsay, for the instances, though not few and perfectly well\nauthenticated, are sufficiently rare to be popularly regarded as\nmiraculous.\n\nIn one case, which occurred in the country west of Poona not long\nafter our conquest of the Deccan, a Brahmin boy could, without the aid\nof music or anything but his own voice, attract to himself and handle\nwith impunity all the snakes which might be within hearing in any\nthicket or dry stone wall, such as in that country is their favorite\nrefuge. So great was the popular excitement regarding him, under the\nbelief that he was an incarnation of some divinity, that the\nmagistrate of Poona took note of his proceedings, and becoming uneasy\nas to the political turn the excitement regarding the boy might take,\nreported regularly to government the growth of the crowds who pressed\nto see the marvel and to offer gifts to the child and his parents! The\npoor boy, however, was at last bitten by one of the reptiles and died,\nand the wonder ceased.\n\n\nCHUNDUN RAJAH.\n\nPage 274.--There are innumerable popular superstitions regarding the\npowers which can be conveyed in a charmed necklace; and it is a common\nbelief that good and bad fortune, and life itself, can be made to\ndepend on its not being removed from the wearer's neck.\n\n\nCHANDRA'S VENGEANCE.\n\nPage 292.--The picture of the childless wife setting forth to seek\nMahdeo, and resolving not to return till she has seen him, is one\nwhich would find a parallel in some of the persons composing almost\nevery group of pilgrims who resort to the great shrines of Hindostan.\nAny one who has an opportunity of quietly questioning the members of\nsuch an assemblage will find that, besides the miscellaneous crowd of\nidlers, there are usually specimens of two classes of very earnest\ndevotees. The one class is intent on the performance of some act of\nascetic devotion, the object of which is to win the favor of the\ndivinity, or to fulfill a vow for a favor already granted. The other\nclass is seeking \"to see the divinity,\" and expecting the revelation\nunder one or other of the terrible forms of the Hindoo Pantheon. There\nare few things more pathetic than to hear one of this class recount\nthe wanderings and sufferings of his past search, or the journeys he\nhas before him, which are too often prolonged till death puts an end\nto the wanderer and his pilgrimage.\n\nPage 294.--The \"fire which does not burn\" is everywhere in India one\nof the attributes of Mahdeo.\n\nIn many parts of the Deccan are to be found shrines consecrated to one\nof the local gods, who has been Brahminically recognized as a local\nmanifestation of Mahdeo, where the annual festival of the divinity\nwas, within the last few years, kept by lighting huge fires, through\nwhich devotees ran or jumped, attributing their escape from burning to\nthe interposition of Mahdeo. Except in a few remote villages, this\ncustom, which sometimes led to serious accidents, has in British\nterritory been stopped by the police.\n\nPage 298.--This story of the wonderful child who was found floating in\na box on a river is to be heard, with more or less picturesque local\nvariations, on the banks of every large river in India. Almost every\nold village in Sind has a local tradition of this kind.\n\nPage 305.--Most households in Calcutta can furnish recollections of\ndepredations by birds, at their nest-building season, similar to that\nof the Ranee's bangles by the Eagles in this story. But the object of\nthe theft is generally more prosaic. I have known gold rings so taken,\nbut the plunder is more frequently a lady's cuff or collar, or a piece\nof lace; and the plunderers are crows, and sometimes, but very rarely,\na kite.\n\nPage 313.--Purwaris, or outcasts, who are not suffered to live within\nthe quarter inhabited by the higher castes, are very numerous in\nSouthern India, and a legend similar to this one is a frequent popular\nexplanation of their being in excess as compared with other classes of\nthe population.\n\n\nHOW THE THREE CLEVER MEN OUTWITTED THE DEMONS.\n\nPage 314.--Old residents at Surat may remember an ancient local\ncelebrity named Tom the Barber, among whose recollections of former\ndays was a chronicle of a renowned duelist, who used to amuse himself\nby shooting with his pistol, somewhat after the fashion of the\nPearl-shooter. The little tin can of hot water which Tom carried,\nslung from his forefinger as he went his morning rounds, was a\nfavorite mark. So were the water-jars on the heads of the women as\nthey passed the duelist's house coming from the well; and great was\nTom's relief when an old woman, who could not be pacified by the usual\ndouceur for the loss of her jar and the shock of finding the water\nstream down her back, appealed to the authorities and had the duelist\nbound over to abstain in future from his dangerous amusement.\n\nSo vivid were Tom's recollections of his own terrors that, after the\nlapse of half a century, he could ill conceal his sense of the\npoetical justice finally inflicted on his tormentor, who was killed in\na duel to which he provoked a young officer who had never before fired\na pistol.\n\n[Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nArchaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed where there was\nno prevalence of one form over another, e.g. Gazeteer, loth and loath.\nWhere there was a prevalence, amendments have been made for\nconsistency:\n\n Page 157--tormenter amended to tormentor--\"... was that\n Vicram should have such a hideous tormentor ...\"\n\n Page 335--Sivagee amended to Sivajee--\"... not only of the\n days of Alumgeer, Sivajee and of early Mahratta history, ...\"\n\nBoth Pilpay and Pilpai are used as references to the fable writer.\nThey are preserved as printed, as the author in each case is\ndifferent.\n\nPunctuation errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made\nconsistent.\n\nThe following typographic errors have been repaired:\n\n Page 8--observe amended to observed--\"... gravely observed\n that the footmark looked as if the foot which made it ...\"\n\n Page 49--it amended to if--\"The Rajah returned to see if he\n could help anybody to escape, ...\"\n\n Page 58--repeated 'it' deleted--\"... but when the Princess\n heard how wild it was ...\"\n\n Page 82--chidren amended to children--\"... in charge of this\n garden will have a hundred and one children ...\"\n\n Page 89--the amended to they--\"Then, by order of the twelve\n wicked Ranees, they sacrilegiously destroyed the little\n temple.\"\n\n Page 103--come amended to came--\"... to their joy one day\n they came upon a dense grove of Cocoa-nut trees, ...\"\n\n Page 106--reach amended to reached--\"On the first evening of\n their march the travelers reached the borders of the\n Cocoa-nut grove, ...\"\n\n Page 115--Rahshas amended to Rakshas--\"Then she ground the\n corn, but still the young Rakshas came not; ...\"\n\n Page 137--pomegrantes amended to pomegranates--\"... three\n pomegranates (in which were Anar Ranee and her two ladies),\n ...\"\n\n Page 140--petty amended to pretty--\"... where there were a\n thousand other pretty pollies, ...\"\n\n Page 150--eat amended to ate--\"... and she ate it, little bit\n by little bit, ...\"\n\n Page 153--repeated 'the' deleted--\"How was the latter to be\n expelled to make way ...\"\n\n Page 160--it amended to in--\"So that it became a proverb in\n that country, ...\"\n\n Page 189--strengh amended to strength--\"... he regained his\n health and strength also, and looked almost as well as ever.\"\n\n Page 198--Jackal amended to Jackals--\"And the little Jackals\n threw stones down upon him from above, ...\"\n\n Page 221--run amended to sun--\"... under my boughs from the\n scorching rays of the sun; ...\"\n\n Page 235--Chatte-maker amended to Chattee-maker--\"... and the\n Chattee-maker was rewarded for all he had done ...\"\n\n Page 262--so amended to to--\"The poor little Fakeer's\n daughter was so startled that she began to cry.\"\n\n Page 280--one only amended to only one--\"Once upon a time there\n lived a Rajah and Ranee, who had only one daughter, ...\"\n\n Page 307--hut amended to but--\"... but as soon as she saw it\n she recognized it.\"\n\n Page 313, first footnote--permited amended to permitted--\"...\n not permitted to live within the city walls.\"\n\n Page 316--other amended to others--\"\"They are true,\" said the\n others; \"for we, O Pundit, ...\"\"\n\n Page 318--omitted word 'to' added following 'turning'--\"... and,\n turning to his wife, whispered, ...\"\n\nThe following were noted as possible errors, but, as they could\npotentially be read as deliberate phrasing on the part of the author,\nthey are all preserved as printed.\n\n Page 8--\"... the Rakshas seems giving way to the \"Bhoot\" ...\" It\n is likely that 'to be' is missing following 'seems.'\n\n Page 82--\"... and cause it be announced that you have left the\n place.\" It is possible that 'to' is omitted following 'it.'\n\n Page 269--\"... and there was no village or house of living creature\n near.\" This should probably read 'of a living creature' or 'of\n living creatures.'\n\n Page 325--\"... I have been a far journey ...\" This may have been\n intended to read, 'I have been on a far journey.'\n\n\n\n\n\n
","title":"Old Deccan Days; or, Hindoo Fairy Legends Current in Southern India","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":103469}