{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6145/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6145","id":"gutenberg_6145","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6145","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- India","Panjabis (South Asian people) -- Folklore","Tales -- India -- Punjab"],"text":"Produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Charles Franks and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF THE PUNJAB\nFOLKLORE OF INDIA\n\nBY\n\nFLORA ANNIE STEEL\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n\nPreface\n\nTo the Little Reader\n\nSir Buzz\nThe Rat's Wedding\nThe Faithful Prince\nThe Bear's Bad Bargain\nPrince Lionheart and his Three Friends\nThe Lambkin\nBopol\u00fbch\u00ee\nPrincess Aubergine\nValiant Vicky, the Brave Weaver\nThe Son of Seven Mothers\nThe Sparrow and the Crow\nThe Tiger, the Br\u00e2hman, and the Jackal\nThe King of the Crocodiles\nLittle Anklebone\nThe Close Alliance\nThe Two Brothers\nThe Jackal and the Iguana\nThe Death and Burial of Poor Hen-Sparrow\nPrincess Pepperina\nPeasie and Beansir\nThe Jackal and the Partridge\nThe Snake-woman and King Ali Mardan\nThe Wonderful Ring\nThe Jackal and the Pea-hen\nThe Grain of Corn\nThe Farmer and the Money-lender\nThe Lord of Death\nThe Wrestlers\nThe Legend of Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri, the Glacier-Hearted Queen\nThe Barber's Clever Wife\nThe Jackal and the Crocodile\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Was Born\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Went Out Into the World\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu's Friends Forsook Him\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Killed the Giants\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Became a J\u00f4gi\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Journeyed to the City of King Sarkap\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Swung the Seventy Fair Maidens, Daughters of the King\nHow Raja Ras\u00e2lu Played Chaupur with King Sarkap\nThe King Who Was Fried\nPrince Half-a-Son\nThe Mother and Daughter Who Worshipped the Sun\nThe Ruby Prince\n\nNotes to the Tales\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nMany of the tales in this collection appeared either in the _Indian\nAntiquary_, the _Calcutta Review_, or the _Legends of the\nPunjab_.  They were then in the form of literal translations, in\nmany cases uncouth or even unpresentable to ears polite, in all\nscarcely intelligible to the untravelled English reader; for it must\nbe remembered that, with the exception of the Adventures of Raja\nRas\u00e2lu, all these stories are strictly folk-tales passing current\namong a people who can neither read nor write, and whose diction is\nfull of colloquialisms, and, if we choose to call them so,\nvulgarisms.  It would be manifestly unfair, for instance, to compare\nthe literary standard of such tales with that of the _Arabian\nNights_, the _Tales of a Parrot_, or similar works.  The\nmanner in which these stories were collected is in itself sufficient\nto show how misleading it would be, if, with the intention of giving\nthe conventional Eastern flavour to the text, it were to be\nmanipulated into a flowery dignity; and as a description of the\nprocedure will serve the double purpose of credential and excuse, the\nauthors give it,--premising that all the stories but three have been\ncollected by Mrs. F. A. Steel during winter tours through the various\ndistricts of which her husband has been Chief Magistrate.\n\nA carpet is spread under a tree in the vicinity of the spot which the\nMagistrate has chosen for his _darb\u00e2r_, but far enough away from\nbureaucracy to let the village idlers approach it should they feel so\ninclined.  In a very few minutes, as a rule, some of them begin to\nedge up to it, and as they are generally small boys, they commence\nnudging each other, whispering, and sniggering.  The fancied approach\nof a _chupr\u00e2s\u00ee_, the 'corrupt lictor' of India, who attends at\nevery _darb\u00e2r_, will however cause a sudden stampede; but after a\ntime these become less and less frequent, the wild beasts, as it were,\nbecoming tamer.  By and by a group of women stop to gaze, and then the\nquestion 'What do you want?' invariably brings the answer 'To see your\nhonour' (_\u00e2p ke darshan \u00e2e_).  Once the ice is broken, the only\ndifficulties are, first, to understand your visitors, and secondly, to\nget them to go away.  When the general conversation is fairly started,\ninquiries are made by degrees as to how many witches there are in the\nvillage, or what cures they know for fever and the evil eye,\n_etc_.  At first these are met by denials expressed in set terms,\nbut a little patient talk will generally lead to some remarks which\npoint the villagers' minds in the direction required, till at last,\nafter many persuasions, some child begins a story, others correct the\ndetails, emulation conquers shyness, and finally the story-teller is\nbrought to the front with acclamations:  for there is always a\nstory-teller _par excellence_ in every village--generally a boy.\n\nThen comes the need for patience, since in all probability the first\nstory is one you have heard a hundred times, or else some pointless\nand disconnected jumble.  At the conclusion of either, however, the\nteller must be profusely complimented, in the hopes of eliciting\nsomething more valuable.  But it is possible to waste many hours, and\nin the end find yourself possessed of nothing save some feeble variant\nof a well-known legend, or, what is worse, a compilation of oddments\nwhich have lingered in a faulty memory from half a dozen distinct\nstories.  After a time, however, the attentive collector is rewarded\nby finding that a coherent whole is growing up in his or her mind out\nof the shreds and patches heard here and there, and it is delight\nindeed when your own dim suspicion that this part of the puzzle fits\ninto that is confirmed by finding the two incidents preserved side by\nside in the mouth of some perfectly unconscious witness.  Some of the\ntales in this volume have thus been a year or more on the stocks\nbefore they had been heard sufficiently often to make their form\nconclusive.\n\nAnd this accounts for what may be called the greater literary sequence\nof these tales over those to be found in many similar collections.\nThey have been selected carefully with the object of securing a good\nstory in what appears to be its best form; but they have not been\ndoctored in any way, not even in the language.  That is neither a\ntransliteration--which would have needed a whole dictionary to be\nintelligible--nor a version orientalised to suit English tastes.  It\nis an attempt to translate one colloquialism by another, and thus to\npreserve the aroma of rough ready wit existing side by side with that\nperfume of pure poesy which every now and again contrasts so strangely\nwith the other.  Nothing would have been easier than to alter the\nstyle; but to do so would, in the collector's opinion, have robbed the\nstories of all human value.\n\nThat such has been the deliberate choice may be seen at a glance\nthrough the only story which has a different origin.  The Adventures\nof Raja Ras\u00e2lu was translated from the rough manuscript of a village\naccountant; and, being current in a more or less classical form, it\napproaches more nearly to the conventional standards of an Indian\ntale.\n\nThe work has been apportioned between the authors in this way.  Mrs.\nF. A. Steel is responsible for the text, and Major R. C. Temple for\nthe annotations.\n\nIt is therefore hoped that the form of the book may fulfil the double\nintention with which it was written; namely, that the text should\ninterest children, and at the same time the notes should render it\nvaluable to those who study Folklore on its scientific side.\n\nF. A. _Steel_\nR. C. _Temple_\n\n\n\n\nTO THE LITTLE READER\n\n\nWould you like to know how these stories are told?  Come with me, and\nyou shall see.  There! take my hand and do not be afraid, for Prince\nHassan's carpet is beneath your feet.  So now!--'Hey presto!\nAbracadabra!'  Here we are in a Punjabi village.\n\n                              * * * * *\n\nIt is sunset.  Over the limitless plain, vast and unbroken as the\nheaven above, the hot cloudless sky cools slowly into shadow.  The men\nleave their labour amid the fields, which, like an oasis in the\ndesert, surround the mud-built village, and, plough on shoulder, drive\ntheir bullocks homewards.  The women set aside their spinning-wheels,\nand prepare the simple evening meal.  The little girls troop, basket\non head, from the outskirts of the village, where all day long they\nhave been at work, kneading, drying, and stacking the fuel-cakes so\nnecessary in that woodless country.  The boys, half hidden in clouds\nof dust, drive the herds of gaunt cattle and ponderous buffaloes to\nthe thorn-hedged yards.  The day is over, the day which has been so\nhard and toilful even for the children,--and with the night comes rest\nand play.  The village, so deserted before, is alive with voices; the\nelders cluster round the courtyard doors, the little ones whoop\nthrough the narrow alleys.  But as the short-lived Indian twilight\ndies into darkness, the voices one by one are hushed, and as the stars\ncome out the children disappear.  But not to sleep:  it is too hot,\nfor the sun which has beaten so fiercely all day on the mud walls, and\nfloors, and roofs, has left a legacy of warmth behind it, and not till\nmidnight will the cool breeze spring up, bringing with it refreshment\nand repose.  How then are the long dark hours to be passed?  In all\nthe village not a lamp or candle is to be found; the only light--and\nthat too used but sparingly and of necessity--being the dim smoky\nflame of an oil-fed wick.  Yet, in spite of this, the hours, though\ndark, are not dreary, for this, in an Indian village, is\n_story-telling time_; not only from choice, but from obedience to\nthe well-known precept which forbids such idle amusement between\nsunrise and sunset.  Ask little Kaniy\u00e2, yonder, why it is that he, the\nbest story-teller in the village, never opens his lips till after\nsunset, and he will grin from ear to ear, and with a flash of dark\neyes and white teeth, answer that travellers lose their way when idle\nboys and girls tell tales by daylight.  And Naraini, the herd-girl,\nwill hang her head and cover her dusky face with her rag of a veil, if\nyou put the question to her; or little R\u00e2m Jas shake his bald shaven\npoll in denial; but not one of the dark-skinned, bare-limbed village\nchildren will yield to your request for a story.\n\nNo, no!--from sunrise to sunset, when even the little ones must\nlabour, not a word; but from sunset to sunrise, when no man can work,\nthe tongues chatter glibly enough, for that is story-telling time.\nThen, after the scanty meal is over, the bairns drag their\nwooden-legged, string-woven bedsteads into the open, and settle\nthemselves down like young birds in a nest, three or four to a bed,\nwhile others coil up on mats upon the ground, and some, stealing in\nfor an hour from distant alleys, beg a place here or there.\n\nThe stars twinkle overhead, the mosquito sings through the hot air,\nthe village dogs bark at imaginary foes, and from one crowded nest\nafter another rises a childish voice telling some tale, old yet ever\nnew,--tales that were told in the sunrise of the world, and will be\ntold in its sunset.  The little audience listens, dozes, dreams, and\nstill the wily Jackal meets his match, or Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee brave and bold\nreturns rich and victorious from the robber's den.  Hark!--that is\nKaniy\u00e2's voice, and there is an expectant stir amongst the drowsy\nlisteners as he begins the old old formula--\n\n'Once upon a time--'\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF THE PUNJAB\n\nFOLKLORE OF INDIA\n\n\n\n\nSIR BUZZ\n\n\nOnce upon a time a soldier died, leaving a widow and one son.  They\nwere dreadfully poor, and at last matters became so bad that they had\nnothing left in the house to eat.\n\n'Mother,' said the son, 'give me four shillings, and I will go seek my\nfortune in the wide world.'\n\n'Alas!' answered the mother, 'and where am I, who haven't a farthing\nwherewith to buy bread, to find four shillings?'\n\n'There is that old coat of my father's,' returned the lad; 'look in\nthe pocket--perchance there is something there.'\n\nSo she looked, and behold! there were six shillings hidden away at the\nvery bottom of the pocket!\n\n'More than I bargained for,' quoth the lad, laughing.'  See, mother,\nthese two shillings are for you; you can live on that till I return,\nthe rest will pay my way until I find my fortune.'\n\nSo he set off to find his fortune, and on the way he saw a tigress,\nlicking her paw, and moaning mournfully.  He was just about to run\naway from the terrible creature, when she called to him faintly,\nsaying, 'Good lad, if you will take out this thorn for me, I shall be\nfor ever grateful.'\n\n'Not I!' answered the lad.  'Why, if I begin to pull it out, and it\npains you, you will kill me with a pat of your paw.'\n\n[Illustration:  Boy pulling thorn out of a tigress's paw]\n\n'No, no!' cried the tigress, 'I will turn my face to this tree, and\nwhen the pain comes I will pat _it_.'\n\nTo this the soldier's son agreed; so he pulled out the thorn, and when\nthe pain came the tigress gave the tree such a blow that the trunk\nsplit all to pieces.  Then she turned towards the soldier's son, and\nsaid gratefully, 'Take this box as a reward, my son, but do not open\nit until you have travelled nine miles'\n\nSo the soldier's son thanked the tigress, and set off with the box to\nfind his fortune.  Now when he had gone five miles, he felt certain\nthat the box weighed more than it had at first, and every step he took\nit seemed to grow heavier and heavier.  He tried to struggle on--\nthough it was all he could do to carry the box--until he had gone\nabout eight miles and a quarter, when his patience gave way.  'I\nbelieve that tigress was a witch, and is playing off her tricks upon\nme,' he cried, 'but I will stand this nonsense no longer.  Lie there,\nyou wretched old box!--heaven knows what is in you, and I don't care.'\n\nSo saying, he flung the box down on the ground:  it burst open with\nthe shock, and out stepped a little old man.  He was only one span\nhigh, but his beard was a span and a quarter long, and trailed upon\nthe ground.\n\nThe little mannikin immediately began to stamp about and scold the lad\nroundly for letting the box down so violently.\n\n'Upon my word!' quoth the soldier's son, scarcely able to restrain a\nsmile at the ridiculous little figure, 'but you are weighty for your\nsize, old gentleman!  And what may your name be?'\n\n'Sir Buzz!' snapped the one-span mannikin, still stamping about in a\ngreat rage.\n\n'Upon my word!' quoth the soldier's son once more, 'if _you_ are\nall the box contained, I am glad I didn't trouble to carry it\nfarther.'\n\n'That's not polite,' snarled the mannikin; 'perhaps if you had carried\nit the full nine miles you might have found something better; but\nthat's neither here nor there.  I'm good enough for you, at any rate,\nand will serve you faithfully according to my mistress's orders.'\n\n'Serve me!--then I wish to goodness you'd serve me with some dinner,\nfor I am mighty hungry!  Here are four shillings to pay for it.'\n\nNo sooner had the soldier's son said this and given the money, than\nwith a _whiz! boom! bing!_ like a big bee, Sir Buzz flew through\nthe air to a confectioner's shop in the nearest town.  There he stood,\nthe one-span mannikin, with the span and a quarter beard trailing on\nthe ground, just by the big preserving pan, and cried in ever so loud\na voice, 'Ho! ho!  Sir Confectioner, bring me sweets!'\n\nThe confectioner looked round the shop, and out of the door, and down\nthe street, but could see no one, for tiny Sir Buzz was quite hidden\nby the preserving pan.  Then the mannikin called out louder still,\n'Ho! ho!  Sir Confectioner, bring me sweets!'  And when the\nconfectioner looked in vain for his customer, Sir Buzz grew angry, and\nran and pinched him on the legs, and kicked him on the foot, saying,\n'Impudent knave! do you mean to say you can't see _me?_ Why, I\nwas standing by the preserving pan all the time!'\n\nThe confectioner apologised humbly, and hurried away to bring out his\nbest sweets for his irritable little customer.  Then Sir Buzz chose\nabout a hundredweight of them, and said, 'Quick, tie them up in\nsomething and give them into my hand; I'll carry them home.'\n\n'They will be a good weight, sir,' smiled the confectioner.\n\n'What business is that of yours, I should like to know?' snapped Sir\nBuzz.  'Just you do as you're told, and here is your money.'  So\nsaying he jingled the four shillings in his pocket.\n\n'As you please, sir,' replied the man cheerfully, as he tied up the\nsweets into a huge bundle and placed it on the little mannikin's\noutstretched hand, fully expecting him to sink under the weight; when\nlo! with a _boom! bing!_ he whizzed off with the money still in\nhis pocket.\n\nHe alighted at a corn-chandler's shop, and, standing behind a basket\nof flour, called out at the top of his voice, 'Ho! ho!  Sir Chandler,\nbring me flour!'\n\nAnd when the corn-chandler looked round the shop, and out of the\nwindow, and down the street, without seeing anybody, the one-span\nmannikin, with his beard trailing on the ground, cried again louder\nthan before, 'Ho! ho!  Sir Chandler, bring me flour!'\n\nThen on receiving no answer, he flew into a violent rage, and ran and\nbit the unfortunate corn-chandler on the leg, pinched him, and kicked\nhim, saying, 'Impudent varlet! don't pretend you couldn't see\n_me!_ Why, I was standing close beside you behind that basket!'\n\nSo the corn-chandler apologised humbly for his mistake, and asked Sir\nBuzz how much flour he wanted.\n\n'Two hundredweight,' replied the mannikin, 'two hundredweight, neither\nmore nor less.  Tie it up in a bundle, and I'll take it with me.'\n\n'Your honour has a cart or beast of burden with you, doubtless?' said\nthe chandler, 'for two hundredweight is a heavy load.'\n\n'What's that to you?' shrieked Sir Buzz, stamping his foot, 'isn't it\nenough if I pay for it?'  And then he jingled the money in his pocket\nagain.\n\nSo the corn-chandler tied up the flour in a bundle, and placed it in\nthe mannikin's outstretched hand, fully expecting it would crush him,\nwhen, with a whiz!  Sir Buzz flew off, with the shillings still in his\npocket. _Boom! bing! boom!_\n\nThe soldier's son was just wondering what had become of his one-span\nservant, when, with a whir! the little fellow alighted beside him, and\nwiping his face with his handkerchief, as if he were dreadfully hot\nand tired, said thoughtfully, 'Now I do hope I've brought enough, but\nyou men have such terrible appetites!'\n\n'More than enough, I should say,' laughed the lad, looking at the huge\nbundles.\n\nThen Sir Buzz cooked the girdle-cakes, and the soldier's son ate three\nof them and a handful of sweets; but the one-span mannikin gobbled up\nall the rest, saying at each mouthful, 'You men have such terrible\nappetites--such terrible appetites!'\n\nAfter that, the soldier's son and his servant Sir Buzz travelled ever\nso far, until they came to the King's city.  Now the King had a\ndaughter called Princess Blossom, who was so lovely, and tender, and\nslim, and fair, that she only weighed five flowers.  Every morning she\nwas weighed in golden scales, and the scale always turned when the\nfifth flower was put in, neither less nor more.\n\nNow it so happened that the soldier's son by chance caught a glimpse\nof the lovely, tender, slim, and fair Princess Blossom, and, of\ncourse, he fell desperately in love with her.  He would neither sleep\nnor eat his dinner, and did nothing all day long but say to his\nfaithful mannikin, 'Oh, dearest Sir Buzz! oh, kind Sir Buzz!--carry me\nto the Princess Blossom, that I may see and speak to her.'\n\n'Carry you!' snapped the little fellow scornfully, 'that's a likely\nstory!  Why, you're ten times as big as I am.  You should carry\n_me!_'\n\nNevertheless, when the soldier's son begged and prayed, growing pale\nand pining away with thinking of the Princess Blossom, Sir Buzz, who\nhad a kind heart, was moved, and bade the lad sit on his hand.  Then\nwith a tremendous _boom! bing! boom!_ they whizzed away and were\nin the palace in a second.  Being night-time, the Princess was asleep;\nnevertheless the booming wakened her and she was quite frightened to\nsee a handsome young man kneeling beside her.  She began of course to\nscream, but stopped at once when the soldier's son with the greatest\npoliteness, and in the most elegant of language, begged her not to be\nalarmed.  And after that they talked together about everything\ndelightful, while Sir Buzz stood at the door and did sentry; but he\nstood a brick up on end first, so that he might not seem to pry upon\nthe young people.\n\nNow when the dawn was just breaking, the soldier's son and Princess\nBlossom, wearied of talking, fell asleep; whereupon Sir Buzz, being a\nfaithful servant, said to himself, 'Now what is to be done?  If my\nmaster remains here asleep, some one will discover him, and he will be\nkilled as sure as my name is Buzz; but if I wake him, ten to one he\nwill refuse to go.'\n\n[Illustration:  Soldier's son kneeling beside Princess Blossom's bed\nas they talk]\n\nSo without more ado he put his hand under the bed, and _bing!\nboom!_ carried it into a large garden outside the town.  There he\nset it down in the shade of the biggest tree, and pulling up the next\nbiggest one by the roots, threw it over his shoulder, and marched up\nand down keeping guard.\n\nBefore long the whole town was in a commotion, because the Princess\nBlossom had been carried off, and all the world and his wife turned\nout to look for her.  By and by the one-eyed Chief Constable came to\nthe garden gate.\n\n'What do you want here?' cried valiant Sir Buzz, making passes at him\nwith the tree.\n\nThe Chief Constable with his one eye could see nothing save the\nbranches, but he replied sturdily, 'I want the Princess Blossom!'\n\n'I'll blossom you!  Get out of _my_ garden, will you?' shrieked\nthe one-span mannikin, with his one and quarter span beard trailing on\nthe ground; and with that he belaboured the Constable's pony so hard\nwith the tree that it bolted away, nearly throwing its rider.\n\nThe poor man went straight to the King, saying, 'Your Majesty!  I am\nconvinced your Majesty's daughter, the Princess Blossom, is in your\nMajesty's garden, just outside the town, as there is a tree there\nwhich fights terribly.'\n\nUpon this the King summoned all his horses and men, and going to the\ngarden tried to get in; but Sir Buzz behind the tree routed them all,\nfor half were killed, and the rest ran away.  The noise of the battle,\nhowever, awoke the young couple, and as they were now convinced they\ncould no longer exist apart, they determined to fly together.  So when\nthe fight was over, the soldier's son, the Princess Blossom, and Sir\nBuzz set out to see the world.\n\nNow the soldier's son was so enchanted with his good luck in winning\nthe Princess, that he said to Sir Buzz, 'My fortune is made already;\nso I shan't want you any more, and you can go back to your mistress.'\n\n'Pooh!' said Sir Buzz.  'Young people always think so; however, have\nit your own way, only take this hair out of my beard, and if you\n_should_ get into trouble, just burn it in the fire.  I'll come\nto your aid.'\n\nSo Sir Buzz boomed off, and the soldier's son and the Princess Blossom\nlived and travelled together very happily, until at last they lost\ntheir way in a forest, and wandered about for some time without any\nfood.  When they were nearly starving, a Br\u00e2hman found them, and\nhearing their story said, 'Alas! you poor children!--come home with\nme, and I will give you something to eat.'\n\nNow had he said 'I will eat you,' it would have been much nearer the\nmark, for he was no Br\u00e2hman, but a dreadful vampire, who loved to\ndevour handsome young men and slender girls.  But, knowing nothing of\nall this, the couple went home with him quite cheerfully.  He was most\npolite, and when they arrived at his house, said, 'Please get ready\nwhatever you want to eat, for I have no cook.  Here are my keys; open\nall my cupboards save the one with the golden key.  Meanwhile I will\ngo and gather firewood.'\n\nThen the Princess Blossom began to prepare the food, while the\nsoldier's son opened all the cupboards.  In them he saw lovely jewels,\nand dresses, and cups and platters, such bags of gold and silver, that\nhis curiosity got the better of his discretion, and, regardless of the\nBr\u00e2hman's warning, he said, 'I _will_ see what wonderful thing is\nhidden in the cupboard with the golden key.'  So he opened it, and lo!\nit was full of human skulls, picked quite clean, and beautifully\npolished.  At this dreadful sight the soldier's son flew back to the\nPrincess Blossom, and said, 'We are lost! we are lost!--this is no\nBr\u00e2hman, but a horrid vampire!'\n\nAt that moment they heard him at the door, and the Princess, who was\nvery brave and kept her wits about her, had barely time to thrust the\nmagic hair into the fire, before the vampire, with sharp teeth and\nfierce eyes, appeared.  But at the selfsame moment a _boom! boom!\nbinging_ noise was heard in the air, coming nearer and nearer.\nWhereupon the vampire, who knew very well who his enemy was, changed\ninto a heavy rain pouring down in torrents, hoping thus to drown Sir\nBuzz, but _he_ changed into the storm wind beating back the\nrain.  Then the vampire changed to a dove, but Sir Buzz, pursuing it\nas a hawk, pressed it so hard that it had barely time to change into a\nrose, and drop into King Indra's lap as he sat in his celestial court\nlistening to the singing of some dancing girls.  Then Sir Buzz, quick\nas thought, changed into an old musician, and standing beside the bard\nwho was thrumming the guitar, said, 'Brother, you are tired; let\n_me_ play.'\n\nAnd he played so wonderfully, and sang with such piercing sweetness,\nthat King Indra said, 'What shall I give you as a reward?  Name what\nyou please, and it shall be yours.'\n\nThen Sir Buzz said, 'I only ask the rose that is in your Majesty's\nlap.'\n\n'I had rather you asked more, or less,' replied King Indra; 'it is but\na rose, yet it fell from heaven; nevertheless it is yours.'\n\nSo saying, he threw the rose towards the musician, and lo! the petals\nfell in a shower on the ground.  Sir Buzz went down on his knees and\ninstantly gathered them up; but one petal escaping, changed into a\nmouse.  Whereupon Sir Buzz, with the speed of lightning, turned into a\ncat, which caught and gobbled up the mouse.\n\nNow all this time the Princess Blossom and the soldier's son,\nshivering and shaking, were awaiting the issue of the combat in the\nvampire's hut; when suddenly, with a _bing! boom!_ Sir Buzz\narrived victorious, shook his head, and said, 'You two had better go\nhome, for you are not fit to take care of yourselves.'\n\nThen he gathered together all the jewels and gold in one hand, placed\nthe Princess and the soldier's son in the other, and whizzed away\nhome, to where the poor mother--who all this time had been living on\nthe two shillings--was delighted to see them.\n\nThen with a louder _boom! bing! boom!_ than usual, Sir Buzz,\nwithout even waiting for thanks, whizzed out of sight, and was never\nseen or heard of again.\n\nBut the soldier's son and the Princess Blossom lived happily ever\nafter.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RAT'S WEDDING\n\n\nOnce upon a time a fat sleek Rat was caught in a shower of rain, and\nbeing far from shelter he set to work and soon dug a nice hole in the\nground, in which he sat as dry as a bone while the raindrops splashed\noutside, making little puddles on the road.\n\nNow in the course of his digging he came upon a fine bit of root,\nquite dry and fit for fuel, which he set aside carefully--for the Rat\nis an economical creature--in order to take it home with him.  So when\nthe shower was over, he set off with the dry root in his mouth.  As he\nwent along, daintily picking his way through the puddles, he saw a\npoor man vainly trying to light a fire, while a little circle of\nchildren stood by, and cried piteously.\n\n'Goodness gracious!' exclaimed the Rat, who was both soft-hearted and\ncurious, 'what a dreadful noise to make!  What _is_ the matter?'\n\n'The bairns are hungry,' answered the man; 'they are crying for their\nbreakfast, but the sticks are damp, the fire won't burn, and so I\ncan't bake the cakes.'\n\n'If that is all your trouble, perhaps I can help you,' said the\ngood-natured Rat; 'you are welcome to this dry root, and I'll warrant\nit will soon make a fine blaze.'\n\nThe poor man, with a thousand thanks, took the dry root, and in his\nturn presented the Rat with a morsel of dough, as a reward for his\nkindness and generosity.\n\n'What a remarkably lucky fellow I am!' thought the Rat, as he trotted\noff gaily with his prize, 'and clever too!  Fancy making a bargain\nlike that--food enough to last me five days in return for a rotten\nold stick! _Wah! wah! wah!_ what it is to have brains!'\n\nGoing along, hugging his good fortune in this way, he came presently\nto a potter's yard, where the potter, leaving his wheel to spin round\nby itself, was trying to pacify his three little children, who were\nscreaming and crying as if they would burst.\n\n'My gracious!' cried the Rat, stopping his ears, 'what a noise!--do\ntell me what it is all about.'\n\n'I suppose they are hungry,' replied the potter ruefully; 'their\nmother has gone to get flour in the bazaar, for there is none in the\nhouse.  In the meantime I can neither work nor rest because of them.'\n\n'Is that all!' answered the officious Rat; 'then I can help you.  Take\nthis dough, cook it quickly, and stop their mouths with food.'\n\nThe potter overwhelmed the Rat with thanks for his obliging kindness,\nand choosing out a nice well-burnt pipkin, insisted on his accepting\nit as a remembrance.\n\nThe Rat was delighted at the exchange, and though the pipkin was just\na trifle awkward for him to manage, he succeeded after infinite\ntrouble in balancing it on his head, and went away gingerly,\n_tink-a-tink_, _tink-a-tink,_ down the road, with his tail\nover his arm for fear he should trip on it.  And all the time he kept\nsaying to himself, 'What a lucky fellow I am! and clever too!  Such a\nhand at a bargain!'\n\nBy and by he came to where some neatherds were herding their cattle.\nOne of them was milking a buffalo, and having no pail he used his\nshoes instead.\n\n'Oh fie! oh fie!' cried the cleanly Rat, quite shocked at the sight.\n'What a nasty dirty trick!--why don't you use a pail?'\n\n'For the best of all reasons--we haven't got one!' growled the\nneatherd, who did not see why the Rat should put his finger in the\npie.\n\n'If that is all,' replied the dainty Rat, 'oblige me by using this\npipkin, for I cannot bear dirt!'\n\nThe neatherd, nothing loath, took the pipkin, and milked away until it\nwas brimming over; then turning to the Rat, who stood looking on,\nsaid, 'Here, little fellow, you may have a drink, in payment.'\n\nBut if the Rat was good-natured he was also shrewd.  'No, no, my\nfriend,' said he, 'that will not do!  As if I could drink the worth of\nmy pipkin at a draught!  My dear sir, _I couldn't hold it!_\nBesides, I never make a bad bargain, so I expect you at least to give\nme the buffalo that gave the milk.'\n\n'Nonsense!' cried the neatherd; 'a buffalo for a pipkin!  Who ever\nheard of such a price?  And what on earth could _you_ do with a\nbuffalo when you got it?  Why, the pipkin was about as much as you\ncould manage.'\n\nAt this the Rat drew himself up with dignity, for he did not like\nallusions to his size.\n\n'That is my affair, not yours,' he retorted; 'your business is to hand\nover the buffalo.'\n\nSo just for the fun of the thing, and to amuse themselves at the Rat's\nexpense, the neatherds loosed the buffalo's halter and began to tie it\nto the little animal's tail.\n\n'No! no!' he called, in a great hurry; 'if the beast pulled, the skin\nof my tail would come off, and then where should I be?  Tie it round\nmy neck, if you please.'\n\nSo with much laughter the neatherds tied the halter round the Rat's\nneck, and he, after a polite leave-taking, set off gaily towards home\nwith his prize; that is to say, he set off with the _rope_, for\nno sooner did he come to the end of the tether than he was brought up\nwith a round turn; the buffalo, nose down grazing away, would not\nbudge until it had finished its tuft of grass, and then seeing another\nin a different direction marched off towards it, while the Rat, to\navoid being dragged, had to trot humbly behind, willy-nilly.\n\nHe was too proud to confess the truth, of course, and, nodding his\nhead knowingly to the neatherds, said, 'Ta-ta, good people!  I am\ngoing home this way.  It may be a little longer, but it's much\nshadier.'\n\nAnd when the neatherds roared with laughter he took no notice, but\ntrotted on, looking as dignified as possible.\n\n'After all,' he reasoned to himself, 'when one keeps a buffalo one has\nto look after its grazing.  A beast must get a good bellyful of grass\nif it is to give any milk, and I have plenty of time at my disposal.'\n\nSo all day long he trotted about after the buffalo, making believe;\nbut by evening he was dead tired, and felt truly thankful when the\ngreat big beast, having eaten enough, lay down under a tree to chew\nthe cud.\n\nJust then a bridal party came by.  The bridegroom and his friends had\nevidently gone on to the next village, leaving the bride's palanquin\nto follow; so the palanquin bearers, being lazy fellows and seeing a\nnice shady tree, put down their burden, and began to cook some food.\n\n'What detestable meanness!' grumbled one;' a grand wedding, and\nnothing but plain rice pottage to eat!  Not a scrap of meat in it,\nneither sweet nor salt!  It would serve the skinflints right if we\nupset the bride into a ditch!'\n\n'Dear me!' cried the Rat at once, seeing a way out of his difficulty,\n'that _is_ a shame!  I sympathise with your feelings so entirely\nthat if you will allow me I'll give you my buffalo.  You can kill it,\nand cook it.'\n\n'_Your_ buffalo!' returned the discontented bearers, 'what\nrubbish!  Whoever heard of a rat owning a buffalo?'\n\n'Not often, I admit,' replied the Rat with conscious pride; 'but look\nfor yourselves.  Can you not see that I am leading the beast by a\nstring?'\n\n'Oh, never mind the string!' cried a great big hungry bearer; 'master\nor no master, I mean to have meat to my dinner!'\n\nWhereupon they killed the buffalo, and, cooking its flesh, ate their\ndinner with relish; then, offering the remains to the Rat, said\ncarelessly, 'Here, little Rat-skin, that is for you!'\n\n'Now look here!' cried the Rat hotly; 'I'll have none of your pottage,\nnor your sauce either.  You don't suppose I am going to give my best\nbuffalo, that gave quarts and quarts of milk--the buffalo I have been\nfeeding all day--for a wee bit of rice?  No!--I got a loaf for a bit\nof stick; I got a pipkin for a little loaf; I got a buffalo for a\npipkin; and now I'll have the bride for my buffalo--the bride, and\nnothing else!'\n\nBy this time the servants, having satisfied their hunger, began to\nreflect on what they had done, and becoming alarmed at the\nconsequences, arrived at the conclusion it would be wisest to make\ntheir escape whilst they could.  So, leaving the bride in her\npalanquin, they took to their heels in various directions.\n\nThe Rat, being as it were left in possession, advanced to the\npalanquin, and drawing aside the curtain, with the sweetest of voices\nand best of bows begged the bride to descend.  She hardly knew whether\nto laugh or to cry, but as any company, even a Rat's, was better than\nbeing quite alone in the wilderness, she did as she was bidden, and\nfollowed the lead of her guide, who set off as fast as he could for\nhis hole.\n\nAs he trotted along beside the lovely young bride, who, by her rich\ndress and glittering jewels, seemed to be some king's daughter, he\nkept saying to himself, 'How clever I am!  What bargains I do make, to\nbe sure!'\n\nWhen they arrived at his hole, the Rat stepped forward with the\ngreatest politeness, and said, 'Welcome, madam, to my humble abode!\nPray step in, or if you will allow me, and as the passage is somewhat\ndark, I will show you the way.'\n\n[Illustration:  The rat at the palanquin]\n\nWhereupon he ran in first, but after a time, finding the bride did not\nfollow, he put his nose out again, saying testily, 'Well, madam, why\ndon't you follow?  Don't you know it's rude to keep your husband\nwaiting?'\n\n'My good sir,' laughed the handsome young bride, 'I can't squeeze into\nthat little hole!'\n\nThe Rat coughed; then after a moment's thought he replied, 'There is\nsome truth in your remark--you _are_ overgrown, and I suppose I\nshall have to build you a thatch somewhere.  For to-night you can rest\nunder that wild plum-tree.'\n\n'But I am so hungry!' said the bride ruefully.\n\n'Dear, dear! everybody seems hungry to-day!' returned the Rat\npettishly; 'however, that's easily settled--I'll fetch you some supper\nin a trice.'\n\nSo he ran into his hole, returning immediately with an ear of millet\nand a dry pea.\n\n'There!' said he, triumphantly, 'isn't that a fine meal?'\n\n'I can't eat that!' whimpered the bride; 'it isn't a mouthful; and I\nwant rice pottage, and cakes, and sweet eggs, and sugar-drops.  I\nshall die if I don't get them!'\n\n'Oh dear me!' cried the Rat in a rage, 'what a nuisance a bride is, to\nbe sure!  Why don't you eat the wild plums?'\n\n'I can't live on wild plums!' retorted the weeping bride; 'nobody\ncould; besides, they are only half ripe, and I can't reach them.'\n\n'Rubbish!' cried the Rat; 'ripe or unripe, they must do you for\nto-night, and to-morrow you can gather a basketful, sell them in the\ncity, and buy sugar-drops and sweet eggs to your heart's content!'\n\nSo the next morning the Rat climbed up into the plum-tree, and nibbled\naway at the stalks till the fruit fell down into the bride's veil.\nThen, unripe as they were, she carried them into the city, calling out\nthrough the streets--\n\n  'Green plums I sell! green plums I sell!\n  Princess am I, Rat's bride as well!'\n\nAs she passed by the palace, her mother the Queen heard her voice,\nand, running out, recognised her daughter.  Great were the rejoicings,\nfor every one thought the poor bride had been eaten by wild beasts.\nIn the midst of the feasting and merriment, the Rat, who had followed\nthe Princess at a distance, and had become alarmed at her long\nabsence, arrived at the door, against which he beat with a big knobby\nstick, calling out fiercely, 'Give me my wife! give me my wife!  She\nis mine by fair bargain.  I gave a stick and I got a loaf; I gave a\nloaf and I got a pipkin; I gave a pipkin and I got a buffalo; I gave a\nbuffalo and I got a bride.  Give me my wife! give me my wife!'\n\n'La! son-in-law! what a fuss you do make!' said the wily old Queen,\nthrough the door, 'and all about nothing!  Who wants to run away with\nyour wife?  On the contrary, we are proud to see you, and I only keep\nyou waiting at the door till we can spread the carpets, and receive\nyou in style.'\n\nHearing this, the Rat was mollified, and waited patiently outside\nwhilst the cunning old Queen prepared for his reception, which she did\nby cutting a hole in the very middle of a stool, putting a red-hot\nstone underneath, covering it over with a stew-pan-lid, and then\nspreading a beautiful embroidered cloth over all.\n\nThen she went to the door, and receiving the Rat with the greatest\nrespect, led him to the stool, praying him to be seated.\n\n'Dear! dear! how clever I am!  What bargains I do make, to be sure!'\nsaid he to himself as he climbed on to the stool.  'Here I am,\nson-in-law to a real live Queen!  What will the neighbours say?'\n\nAt first he sat down on the edge of the stool, but even there it was\nwarm, and after a while he began to fidget, saying, 'Dear me,\nmother-in-law! how hot your house is!  Everything I touch seems\nburning!'\n\n'You are out of the wind there, my son,' replied the cunning old\nQueen; 'sit more in the middle of the stool, and then you will feel\nthe breeze and get cooler.'\n\nBut he didn't! for the stewpan-lid by this time had become so hot,\nthat the Rat fairly frizzled when he sat down on it; and it was not\nuntil he had left all his tail, half his hair, and a large piece of\nhis skin behind him, that he managed to escape, howling with pain, and\nvowing that never, never, never again would he make a bargain!\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAITHFUL PRINCE\n\n\nLong ago there lived a King who had an only son, by name Prince\nBahr\u00e2mgor, who was as splendid as the noonday sun, and as beautiful as\nthe midnight moon.  Now one day the Prince went a-hunting, and he\nhunted to the north, but found no game; he hunted to the south, yet no\nquarry arose; he hunted to the east, and still found nothing.  Then he\nturned towards the setting sun, when suddenly from a thicket flashed a\ngolden deer.  Burnished gold were its hoofs and horns, rich gold its\nbody.  Dazzled by the wonderful sight, the astonished Prince bade his\nretainers form a circle round the beautiful strange creature, and so\ngradually enclose and secure it.\n\n'Remember,' said the Prince, 'I hold him towards whom the deer may run\nto be responsible for its escape, or capture.'\n\nCloser and closer drew the glittering circle of horsemen, while in the\ncentre stood the golden deer, until, with marvellous speed, it fled\nstraight towards the Prince, But he was swifter still, and caught it\nby the golden horns.  Then the creature found human voice, and cried,\n'Let me go, oh!  Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor and I will give you countless\ntreasures!'\n\nBut the Prince laughed, saying, 'Not so!  I have gold and jewels\ngalore, but never a golden deer.'\n\n'Let me go,' pleaded the deer, 'and I will give you more than\ntreasures!'\n\n'And what may that be?' asked the Prince, still laughing.\n\n'I will give you a ride on my back such as never mortal man rode\nbefore,' replied the deer.\n\n'Done!' cried the gay Prince, vaulting lightly to the deer's back; and\nimmediately, like a bird from a thicket, the strange glittering\ncreature rose through the air till it was lost to sight.  For seven\ndays and seven nights it carried the Prince over all the world, so\nthat he could see everything like a picture passing below, and on the\nevening of the seventh day it touched the earth once more, and\ninstantly vanished.  Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor rubbed his eyes in bewilderment,\nfor he had never been in such a strange country before.  Everything\nseemed new and unfamiliar.  He wandered about for some time looking\nfor the trace of a house or a footprint, when suddenly from the ground\nat his feet popped a wee old man.\n\n'How did you come here? and what are you looking for, my son?' quoth\nhe politely.\n\nSo Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor told him how he had ridden thither on a golden\ndeer, which had disappeared, and how he was now quite lost and\nbewildered in this strange country.\n\n'Do not be alarmed, my son,' returned the wee old man; 'it is true you\nare in Demonsland, but no one shall hurt you, for I am the demon\nJasdr\u00fbl whose life you saved when I was on the earth in the shape of a\ngolden deer.'\n\nThen the demon Jasdr\u00fbl took Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor to his house, and treated\nhim right royally, giving him a hundred keys, and saying, 'These are\nthe keys of my palaces and gardens.  Amuse yourself by looking at\nthem, and mayhap somewhere you may find a treasure worth having.'\n\nSo every day Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor opened a new garden, and examined a new\npalace, and in one he found rooms full of gold, and in another jewels,\nand in a third rich stuffs, in fact everything the heart could desire,\nuntil he came to the hundredth palace, and that he found was a mere\nhovel, full of all poisonous things, herbs, stones, snakes, and\ninsects.  But the garden in which it stood was by far the most\nmagnificent of all.  It was seven miles this way, and seven miles\nthat, full of tall trees and bright flowers, lakes, streams,\nfountains, and summer-houses.  Gay butterflies flitted about, and\nbirds sang in it all day and all night.  The Prince, enchanted,\nwandered seven miles this way, and seven miles that, until he was so\ntired that he lay down to rest in a marble summer-house, where he\nfound a golden bed, all spread with silken shawls.  Now while he\nslept, the Fairy Princess Sh\u00e2hpasand, who was taking the air,\nfairy-fashion, in the shape of a pigeon, happened to fly over the\ngarden, and catching sight of the beautiful, splendid, handsome young\nPrince, she sank to earth in sheer astonishment at beholding such a\nlovely sight, and, resuming her natural shape--as fairies always do\nwhen they touch the ground--she stooped over the young man and gave\nhim a kiss.\n\nHe woke up in a hurry, and what was his astonishment on seeing the\nmost beautiful Princess in the world kneeling gracefully beside him!\n\n'Dearest Prince!' cried the maiden, clasping her hands,'I have been\nlooking for you everywhere!'\n\nNow the very same thing befell Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor that had happened to\nthe Princess Sh\u00e2hpasand--that is to say, no sooner did he set eyes on\nher than he fell desperately in love, and so, of course, they agreed\nto get married without any delay.  Nevertheless, the Prince thought it\nbest first to consult his host, the demon Jasdr\u00fbl, seeing how powerful\nhe was in Demonsland.  To the young man's delight, the demon not only\ngave his consent, but appeared greatly pleased, rubbing his hands and\nsaying, 'Now you will remain with me and be so happy that you will\nnever think of returning to your own country any more.'\n\nSo Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor and the Fairy Princess Sh\u00e2hpasand were married,\nand lived ever so happily, for ever so long a time.\n\nAt last the thought of the home he had left came back to the Prince,\nand he began to think longingly of his father the King, his mother the\nQueen, and of his favourite horse and hound.  Then from thinking of\nthem he fell to speaking of them to the Princess, his wife, and then\nfrom speaking he took to sighing and sighing and refusing his dinner,\nuntil he became quite pale and thin.  Now the demon Jasdr\u00fbl used to\nsit every night in a little echoing room below the Prince and\nPrincess's chamber, and listen to what they said, so as to be sure\nthey were happy; and when he heard the Prince talking of his far-away\nhome on the earth, he sighed too, for he was a kindhearted demon, and\nloved his handsome young Prince.\n\nAt last he asked Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor what was the cause of his growing so\npale and sighing so often--for so amiable was the young man that he\nwould rather have died of grief than have committed the rudeness of\ntelling his host he was longing to get away; but when he was asked he\nsaid piteously, 'Oh, good demon! let me go home and see my father the\nKing, my mother the Queen, my horse and my hound, for I am very\nweary.  Let me and my Princess go, or assuredly I shall die!'\n\nAt first the demon refused, but at last he took pity on the Prince,\nand said, 'Be it so; nevertheless you will soon repent and long to be\nback in Demonsland; for the world has changed since you left it, and\nyou will have trouble.  Take this hair with you, and when you need\nhelp, burn it, then I will come immediately to your assistance.'\n\nThen the demon Jasdr\u00fbl said a regretful goodbye, and, Hey presto!--\nPrince Bahr\u00e2mgor found himself standing outside his native city, with\nhis beautiful bride beside him.\n\nBut, alas! as the good-natured demon had foretold, everything was\nchanged.  His father and mother were both dead, a usurper sat on the\nthrone, and had put a price on Bahr\u00e2mgor's head should he ever return\nfrom his mysterious journey.  Luckily no one recognised the young\nPrince (so much had he changed during his residence in Demonsland)\nsave his old huntsman, who, though overjoyed to see his master once\nmore, said it was as much as his life was worth to give the Prince\nshelter; still, being a faithful servant, he agreed to let the young\ncouple live in the garret of his house.\n\n'My old mother, who is blind,' he said, 'will never see you coming and\ngoing; and as you used to be fond of sport, you can help me to hunt,\nas I used to help you.'\n\nSo the splendid Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor and his lovely Princess hid in the\ngarret of the huntsman's house, and no one knew they were there.  Now\none fine day, when the Prince had gone out to hunt, as servant to the\nhuntsman, Princess Sh\u00e2hpasand took the opportunity of washing her\nbeautiful golden hair, which hung round her ivory neck and down to her\npretty ankles like a shower of sunshine, and when she had washed it\nshe combed it, and set the window ajar so that the breeze might blow\nin and dry her hair.\n\nJust at this moment the Chief Constable of the town happened to pass\nby, and hearing the window open, looked up and saw the lovely\nSh\u00e2hpasand, with her glittering golden hair.  He was so overcome at\nthe sight that he fell right off his horse into the gutter.  His\nservants, thinking he had a fit, picked him up and carried him back to\nhis house, where he never ceased raving about a beautiful fairy with\ngolden hair in the huntsman's garret.  This set everybody wondering\nwhether he had been bewitched, and the story meeting the King's ear,\nhe sent down some soldiers to make inquiries at the huntsman's house.\n\n'No one lives here!' said the huntsman's cross old mother, 'no\nbeautiful lady, nor ugly one either, nor any person at all, save me\nand my son.  However, go to the garret and look for yourselves.'\n\nHearing these words of the old woman, Princess Sh\u00e2hpasand bolted the\ndoor, and, seizing a knife, cut a hole in the wooden roof.  Then,\ntaking the form of a pigeon, she flew out, so that when the soldiers\nburst open the door they found no one in the garret.\n\nThe poor Princess was greatly distressed at having to leave her\nbeautiful young Prince in this hurried way, and as she flew past the\nblind old crone she whispered in her ear, 'I go to my father's house\nin the Emerald Mountain.'\n\nIn the evening when Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor returned from hunting, great was\nhis grief at finding the garret empty!  Nor could the blind old crone\ntell him much of what had occurred; still, when he heard of the\nmysterious voice which whispered, 'I go to my father's house in the\nEmerald Mountain,' he was at first somewhat comforted.  Afterwards,\nwhen he reflected that he had not the remotest idea where the Emerald\nMountain was to be found, he fell into a very sad state, and casting\nhimself on the ground he sobbed and sighed; he refused his dinner, and\nnever ceased crying, 'Oh, my dearest Princess! my dearest Princess!'\n\nAt last he remembered the magic hair, and taking it from its\nhiding-place threw it into the fire.  It had scarcely begun to burn\nwhen, Hey presto!--the demon Jasdr\u00fbl appeared, and asked him what he\nwanted.\n\n'Show me the way to the Emerald Mountain,' cried the Prince.\n\nThen the kind-hearted demon shook his head sorrowfully, saying, 'You\nwould never reach it alive, my son.  Be guided by me,--forget all that\nhas passed, and begin a new life.'\n\n'I have but one life,' answered the faithful Prince, 'and that is gone\nif I lose my dearest Princess!  As I must die, let me die seeking\nher.'\n\nThen the demon Jasdr\u00fbl was touched by the constancy of the splendid\nyoung Prince, and promised to aid him as far as possible.  So he\ncarried the young man back to Demonsland, and giving him a magic wand,\nbade him travel over the country until he came to the demon Nan\u00e2k\nChand's house.\n\n'You will meet with many dangers by the way,' said his old friend,\n'but keep the magic wand in your hand day and night, and nothing will\nharm you.  That is all I can do for you, but Nan\u00e2k Chand, who is my\nelder brother, can help you farther on your way.'\n\nSo Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor travelled through Demonsland, and because he held\nthe magic wand in his hand day and night, no harm came to him.  At\nlast he arrived at the demon Nan\u00e2k Chand's house, just as the demon\nhad awakened from sleep, which, according to the habit of demons, had\nlasted for twelve years.  Naturally he was desperately hungry, and on\ncatching sight of the Prince, thought what a dainty morsel he would be\nfor breakfast; nevertheless, though his mouth watered, the demon\nrestrained his appetite when he saw the wand, and asked the Prince\npolitely what he wanted.  But when the demon Nan\u00e2k Chand had heard the\nwhole story, he shook his head, saying, 'You will never reach the\nEmerald Mountain, my son.  Be guided by me,--forget all that has\npassed, and begin a new life.'\n\nThen the splendid young Prince answered as before, 'I have but one\nlife, and that is gone if I lose my dearest Princess!  If I must die,\nlet me die seeking her.'\n\nThis answer touched the demon Nan\u00e2k Chand, and he gave the faithful\nPrince a box of powdered antimony, and bade him travel on through\nDemonsland till he came to the house of the great demon Safed.  'For,'\nsaid he, 'Safed is my eldest brother, and if anybody can do what you\nwant, he will.  If you are in need, rub the powder on your eyes, and\nwhatever you wish near will be near, but whatever you wish far will be\nfar.'\n\nSo the constant Prince travelled on through all the dangers and\ndifficulties of Demonsland, till he reached the demon Safed's house,\nto whom he told his story, showing the powder and the magic wand,\nwhich had brought him so far in safety.\n\nBut the great demon Safed shook his head, saying, 'You will never\nreach the Emerald Mountain alive, my son.  Be guided by me,--forget\nall that has passed, and begin a new life.'\n\nStill the faithful Prince gave the same answer, 'I have but one life,\nand that is gone if I lose my dearest Princess!  If I must die, let me\ndie seeking her.'\n\nThen the great demon nodded his head approvingly, and said, 'You are a\nbrave lad, and I must do my best for you.  Take this _yech_-cap:\nwhenever you put it on you will become invisible.  Journey to the\nnorth, and after a while in the far distance you will see the Emerald\nMountain.  Then put the powder on your eyes and wish the mountain\nnear, for it is an enchanted hill, and the farther you climb the\nhigher it grows.  On the summit lies the Emerald City:  enter it by\nmeans of your invisible cap, and find the Princess--if you can.'\n\nSo the Prince journeyed joyfully to the north, until in the far far\ndistance he saw the glittering Emerald Mountain.  Then he rubbed the\npowder on his eyes, and behold! what he desired was near, and the\nEmerald City lay before him, looking as if it had been cut out of a\nsingle jewel.  But the Prince thought of nothing save his dearest\nPrincess, and wandered up and down the gleaming city protected by his\ninvisible cap.  Still he could not find her.  The fact was, the\nPrincess Sh\u00e2hpasand's father had locked her up inside seven prisons,\nfor fear she should fly away again, for he doated on her, and was in\nterror lest she should escape back to earth and her handsome young\nPrince, of whom she never ceased talking.\n\n'If your husband comes to you, well and good,' said the old man, 'but\nyou shall never go back to him.'\n\nSo the poor Princess wept all day long inside her seven prisons, for\nhow could mortal man ever reach the Emerald Mountain?\n\nNow the Prince, whilst roaming disconsolately about the city, noticed\na servant woman who every day at a certain hour entered a certain door\nwith a tray of sweet dishes on her head.  Being curious, he took\nadvantage of his invisible cap, and when she opened the door he\nslipped in behind her.  Nothing was to be seen but a large door,\nwhich, after shutting and locking the outer one, the servant opened.\nAgain Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor slipped in behind her, and again saw nothing\nbut a huge door.  And so on he went through all the seven doors, till\nhe came to the seventh prison, and there sat the beautiful Princess\nSh\u00e2hpasand, weeping salt tears.  At the sight of her he could scarcely\nrefrain from flinging himself at her feet, but remembering that he was\ninvisible, he waited till the servant after putting down the tray\nretired, locking all the seven prisons one by one.  Then he sat down\nby the Princess and began to eat out of the same dish with her.\n\nShe, poor thing, had not the appetite of a sparrow, and scarcely ate\nanything, so when she saw the contents of the dish disappearing, she\nthought she must be dreaming.  But when the whole had vanished, she\nbecame convinced some one was in the room with her, and cried out\nfaintly, 'Who eats in the same dish with me?'\n\nThen Prince Bahr\u00e2mgor lifted the _yech_-cap from his forehead, so\nthat he was no longer quite invisible, but showed like a figure seen\nin early dawn.  At this the Princess wept bitterly, calling him by\nname, thinking she had seen his ghost, but as he lifted the\n_yech_-cap more and more, and, growing from a shadow to real\nflesh and blood, clasped her in his arms, her tears changed to radiant\nsmiles.\n\nGreat was the astonishment of the servant next day when she found the\nhandsome young Prince seated beside his dearest Princess.  She ran to\ntell the King, who, on hearing the whole story from his daughter's\nlips, was very much pleased at the courage and constancy of Prince\nBahr\u00e2mgor, and ordered Princess Sh\u00e2hpasand to be released at once;\n'For,' he said, 'now her husband has found his way to her, my daughter\nwill not want to go to him.'\n\nThen he appointed the Prince to be his heir, and the faithful Prince\nBahr\u00e2mgor and his beautiful bride lived happily ever afterwards in the\nEmerald kingdom.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BEAR'S BAD BARGAIN\n\n\n[Illustration:  The woodman in front of his hut]\n\nOnce upon a time, a very old woodman lived with his very old wife in a\ntiny hut close to the orchard of a rich man,--so close that the\nboughs of a pear-tree hung right over the cottage yard.  Now it was\nagreed between the rich man and the woodman, that if any of the fruit\nfell into the yard, the old couple were to be allowed to eat it; so\nyou may imagine with what hungry eyes they watched the pears ripening,\nand prayed for a storm of wind, or a flock of flying foxes, or\nanything which would cause the fruit to fall.  But nothing came, and\nthe old wife, who was a grumbling, scolding old thing, declared they\nwould infallibly become beggars.  So she took to giving her husband\nnothing but dry bread to eat, and insisted on his working harder than\never, till the poor old soul got quite thin; and all because the pears\nwould not fall down!  At last, the woodman turned round and declared\nhe would not work any more unless his wife gave him _khichr\u00ee_ to\nhis dinner; so with a very bad grace the old woman took some rice and\npulse, some butter and spices, and began to cook a savoury\n_khichr\u00ee_.  What an appetising smell it had, to be sure!  The\nwoodman was for gobbling it up as soon as ever it was ready.  'No,\nno,' cried the greedy old wife, 'not till you have brought me in\nanother load of wood; and mind it is a good one.  You must work for\nyour dinner.'\n\nSo the old man set off to the forest and began to hack and to hew with\nsuch a will that he soon had quite a large bundle, and with every\nfaggot he cut he seemed to smell the savoury _khichr\u00ee_ and think\nof the feast that was coming.\n\nJust then a bear came swinging by, with its great black nose tilted in\nthe air, and its little keen eyes peering about; for bears, though\ngood enough fellows on the whole, are just dreadfully inquisitive.\n\n'Peace be with you, friend!' said the bear, 'and what may you be going\nto do with that remarkably large bundle of wood?'\n\n'It is for my wife,' returned the woodman.  'The fact is,' he added\nconfidentially, smacking his lips, 'she has made _such_ a\n_khichr\u00ee_ for dinner! and if I bring in a good bundle of wood she\nis pretty sure to give me a plentiful portion.  Oh, my dear fellow,\nyou should just smell that _khichr\u00ee_!'\n\nAt this the bear's mouth began to water, for, like all bears, he was a\ndreadful glutton.\n\n[Illustration:  The woodman talking to the bear]\n\n'Do you think your wife would give me some too, if I brought her a\nbundle of wood?' he asked anxiously.\n\n'Perhaps; if it was a very big load,' answered the woodman craftily.\n\n'Would--would four hundredweight be enough?' asked the bear.\n\n'I'm afraid not,' returned the woodman, shaking his head; 'you see\n_khichr\u00ee>_ is an expensive dish to make,--there is rice in it,\nand plenty of butter, and pulse, and--'\n\n'Would--would eight hundredweight do?'\n\n'Say half a ton, and it's a bargain!' quoth the woodman.\n\n'Half a ton is a large quantity!' sighed the bear.\n\n'There is saffron in the _khichr\u00ee_,' remarked the woodman\ncasually.\n\nThe bear licked his lips, and his little eyes twinkled with greed and\ndelight.\n\n'Well, it's a bargain!  Go home sharp and tell your wife to keep the\n_khichr\u00ee_ hot; I'll be with you in a trice.'\n\nAway went the woodman in great glee to tell his wife how the bear had\nagreed to bring half a ton of wood in return for a share of the\n_khichr\u00ee_.\n\nNow the wife could not help allowing that her husband had made a good\nbargain, but being by nature a grumbler, she was determined not to be\npleased, so she began to scold the old man for not having settled\nexactly the share the bear was to have; 'For,' said she, 'he will\ngobble up the potful before we have finished our first helping.'\n\nOn this the woodman became quite pale.  'In that case,' he said, 'we\nhad better begin now, and have a fair start.'  So without more ado\nthey squatted down on the floor, with the brass pot full of\n_khichr\u00ee_ between them, and began to eat as fast as they could.\n\n'Remember to leave some for the bear, wife,' said the woodman,\nspeaking with his mouth crammed full.\n\n'Certainly, certainly,' she replied, helping herself to another\nhandful.\n\n'My dear,' cried the old woman in her turn, with her mouth so full\nthat she could hardly speak, 'remember the poor bear!'\n\n'Certainly, certainly, my love!' returned the old man, taking another\nmouthful.\n\nSo it went on, till there was not a single grain left in the pot.\n\n'What's to be done now?' said the woodman; 'it is all your fault,\nwife, for eating so much.'\n\n'My fault!' retorted his wife scornfully, 'why, you ate twice as much\nas I did!'\n\n'No, I didn't!'\n\n'Yes, you did!--men always eat more than women.'\n\n'No, they don't!'\n\n'Yes, they do!'\n\n'Well, it's no use quarrelling about it now,' said the woodman,' the\n_khichr\u00ee_'s gone, and the bear will be furious.'\n\n'That wouldn't matter much if we could get the wood,' said the greedy\nold woman.  'I'll tell you what we must do,--we must lock up\neverything there is to eat in the house, leave the _khichr\u00ee_ pot\nby the fire, and hide in the garret.  When the bear comes he will\nthink we have gone out and left his dinner for him.  Then he will\nthrow down his bundle and come in.  Of course he will rampage a little\nwhen he finds the pot is empty, but he can't do much mischief, and I\ndon't think he will take the trouble of carrying the wood away.'\n\nSo they made haste to lock up all the food and hide themselves in the\ngarret.\n\nMeanwhile the bear had been toiling and moiling away at his bundle of\nwood, which took him much longer to collect than he expected; however,\nat last he arrived quite exhausted at the woodcutter's cottage.\nSeeing the brass _khichr\u00ee_ pot by the fire, he threw down his\nload and went in.  And then--mercy! wasn't he angry when he found\nnothing in it--not even a grain of rice, nor a tiny wee bit of pulse,\nbut only a smell that was so uncommonly nice that he actually cried\nwith rage and disappointment.  He flew into the most dreadful temper,\nbut though he turned the house topsy-turvy, he could not find a morsel\nof food.  Finally, he declared he would take the wood away again, but,\nas the crafty old woman had imagined, when he came to the task, he did\nnot care, even for the sake of revenge, to carry so heavy a burden.\n\n'I won't go away empty-handed,' said he to himself, seizing the\n_khichr\u00ee_ pot; 'if I can't get the taste I'll have the smell!'\n\nNow, as he left the cottage, he caught sight of the beautiful golden\npears hanging over into the yard.  His mouth began to water at once,\nfor he was desperately hungry, and the pears were the first of the\nseason; in a trice he was on the wall, up the tree, and, gathering the\nbiggest and ripest one he could find, was just putting it into his\nmouth, when a thought struck him.\n\n'If I take these pears home I shall be able to sell them for ever so\nmuch to the other bears, and then with the money I shall be able to\nbuy some _khichr\u00ee_.  Ha, ha!  I shall have the best of the\nbargain after all!'\n\nSo saying, he began to gather the ripe pears as fast as he could and\nput them into the _khichr\u00ee_ pot, but whenever he came to an\nunripe one he would shake his head and say, 'No one would buy that,\nyet it is a pity to waste it' So he would pop it into his mouth and\neat it, making wry faces if it was very sour.\n\nNow all this time the woodman's wife had been watching the bear\nthrough a crevice, and holding her breath for fear of discovery; but,\nat last, what with being asthmatic, and having a cold in her head, she\ncould hold it no longer, and just as the _khichr\u00ee_ pot was quite\nfull of golden ripe pears, out she came with the most tremendous\nsneeze you ever heard--'_A-h-chc-u!_'\n\nThe bear, thinking some one had fired a gun at him, dropped the\n_khichr\u00ee_ pot into the cottage yard, and fled into the forest as\nfast as his legs would carry him.\n\nSo the woodman and his wife got the _khichr\u00ee_, the wood, and the\ncoveted pears, but the poor bear got nothing but a very bad\nstomach-ache from eating unripe fruit.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE LIONHEART AND HIS THREE FRIENDS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King and Queen who would have been as\nhappy as the day was long had it not been for this one\ncircumstance,--they had no children.\n\nAt last an old _fak\u00eer_, or devotee, coming to the palace, asked\nto see the Queen, and giving her some barleycorns, told her to eat\nthem and cease weeping, for in nine months she would have a beautiful\nlittle son.  The Queen ate the barleycorns, and sure enough after nine\nmonths she bore the most charming, lovely, splendid Prince that ever\nwas seen, who was called Lionheart, because he was so brave and so\nstrong.\n\nNow when he grew up to man's estate, Prince Lionheart grew restless\nalso, and was for ever begging his father the King to allow him to\ntravel in the wide world and seek adventures.  Then the King would\nshake his head, saying _only_ sons were too precious to be turned\nadrift; but at last, seeing the young Prince could think of nothing\nelse, he gave his consent, and Prince Lionheart set off on his\ntravels, taking no one with him but his three companions, the\nKnifegrinder, the Blacksmith, and the Carpenter.\n\nNow when these four valiant young men had gone a short distance, they\ncame upon a magnificent city, lying deserted and desolate in the\nwilderness.  Passing through it they saw tall houses, broad bazaars,\nshops still full of goods, everything pointing to a large and wealthy\npopulation; but neither in street nor house was a human being to be\nseen.  This astonished them very much, until the Knifegrinder,\nclapping his hand to his forehead, said, 'I remember!  This must be\nthe city I have heard about, where a demon lives who will let no one\ndwell in peace.  We had best be off!'\n\n'Not a bit of it!' cried Prince Lionheart.  'At any rate not until\nI've had my dinner, for I am just desperately hungry!'\n\nSo they went to the shops, and bought all they required, laying the\nproper price for each thing on the counters just as if the shopkeepers\nhad been there.  Then going to the palace, which stood in the middle\nof the town, Prince Lionheart bade the Knifegrinder prepare the\ndinner, while he and his other companions took a further look at the\ncity.\n\nNo sooner had they set off, than the Knifegrinder, going to the\nkitchen, began to cook the food.  It sent up a savoury smell, and the\nKnifegrinder was just thinking how nice it would taste, when he saw a\nlittle figure beside him, clad in armour, with sword and lance, riding\non a gaily-caparisoned mouse.\n\n'Give me my dinner!' cried the mannikin, angrily shaking his lance.\n\n'_Your_ dinner!  Come, that is a joke!' quoth the Knifegrinder,\nlaughing.\n\n'Give it me at once!' cried the little warrior in a louder voice, 'or\nI'll hang you to the nearest _p\u00eepal_ tree!'\n\n'Wah! whipper-snapper!' replied the valiant Knifegrinder, 'come a\nlittle nearer, and let me squash you between finger and thumb!'\n\nAt these words the mannikin suddenly shot up into a terribly tall\ndemon, whereupon the Knifegrinder's courage disappeared, and, falling\non his knees, he begged for mercy.  But his piteous cries were of no\nuse, for in a trice he was hung to the topmost branch of the\n_p\u00eepal_ tree.\n\n'I'll teach 'em to cook in my kitchen!' growled the demon, as he\ngobbled up all the cakes and savoury stew.  When he had finished every\nmorsel he disappeared.\n\nNow the Knifegrinder wriggled so desperately that the _p\u00eepal_\nbranch broke, and he came crashing through the tree to the ground,\nwithout much hurt beyond a great fright and a few bruises.  However,\nhe was so dreadfully alarmed that he rushed into the sleeping-room,\nand rolling himself up in his quilt, shook from head to foot as if he\nhad the ague.\n\nBy and by in came Prince Lionheart and his companions, all three as\nhungry as hunters, crying, 'Well, jolly Knifegrinder! where's the\ndinner?'\n\nWhereupon he groaned out from under his quilt, 'Don't be angry, for\nit's nobody's fault; only just as it was ready I got a fit of ague,\nand as I lay shivering and shaking a dog came in and walked off with\neverything.'\n\nHe was afraid that if he told the truth his companions would think him\na coward for not fighting the demon.\n\n'What a pity!' cried the Prince, 'but we must just cook some more.\nHere! you Blacksmith! do you prepare the dinner, while the Carpenter\nand I have another look at the city.'\n\nNow, no sooner had the Blacksmith begun to sniff the savoury smell,\nand think how nice the cakes and stew would taste, than the little\nwarrior appeared to him also.  And he was quite as brave at first as\nthe Knifegrinder had been, and afterwards he too fell on his knees and\nprayed for mercy.  In fact everything happened to him as it had\nhappened to the Knifegrinder, and when he fell from the tree he too\nfled into the sleeping-room, and rolling himself in his quilt began to\nshiver and shake; so that when Prince Lionheart and the Carpenter came\nback, hungry as hunters, there was no dinner.\n\nThen the Carpenter stayed behind to cook, but he fared no better than\nthe two others, so that when hungry Prince Lionheart returned there\nwere three sick men, shivering and shaking under their quilts, and no\ndinner.  Whereupon the Prince set to work to cook his food himself.\n\nNo sooner had it begun to give off a savoury smell than the tiny\nmouse-warrior appeared, very fierce and valiant.\n\n'Upon my word, you are really a very pretty little fellow!' said the\nPrince in a patronising way; 'and what may you want?'\n\n'Give me my dinner!' shrieked the mannikin.\n\n'It is not _your_ dinner, my dear sir, it is _my_ dinner!'\nquoth the Prince; 'but to avoid disputes let's fight it out.'\n\nUpon this the mouse-warrior began to stretch and grow till he became a\nterribly tall demon.  But instead of falling on his knees and begging\nfor mercy, the Prince only burst into a fit of laughter, and said, 'My\ngood sir! there is a medium in all things!  Just now you were\nridiculously small, at present you are absurdly big; but, as you seem\nto be able to alter your size without much trouble, suppose for once\nin a way you show some spirit, and become just my size, neither less\nnor more; then we can settle whose dinner it really is.'\n\nThe demon could not withstand the Prince's reasoning, so he shrank to\nan ordinary size, and setting to work with a will, began to tilt at\nthe Prince in fine style.  But valiant Lionheart never yielded an\ninch, and finally, after a terrific battle, slew the demon with his\nsharp sword.\n\nThen guessing at the truth he roused his three sick friends, saying\nwith a smile, 'O ye valiant ones! arise, for I have killed the ague!'\n\nAnd they got up sheepishly, and fell to praising their leader for his\nincomparable valour.\n\nAfter this, Prince Lionheart sent messages to all the inhabitants of\nthe town who had been driven away by the wicked demon, telling them\nthey could return and dwell in safety, on condition of their taking\nthe Knifegrinder as their king, and giving him their richest and most\nbeautiful maiden as a bride.\n\nThis they did with great joy, but when the wedding was over, and\nPrince Lionheart prepared to set out once more on his adventures, the\nKnifegrinder threw himself before his master, begging to be allowed to\naccompany him.  Prince Lionheart, however, refused the request,\nbidding him remain to govern his kingdom, and at the same time gave\nhim a barley plant, bidding him tend it very carefully; since so long\nas it flourished he might be assured his master was alive and well.\nIf, on the contrary, it drooped, then he might know that misfortune\nwas at hand, and set off to help if he chose.\n\nSo the Knifegrinder king remained behind with his bride and his barley\nplant, but Prince Lionheart, the Blacksmith, and the Carpenter set\nforth on their travels.\n\nBy and by they came to another desolate city, lying deserted in the\nwilderness, and as before they wandered through it, wondering at the\ntall palaces, the empty streets, and the vacant shops where never a\nhuman being was to be seen, until the Blacksmith, suddenly\nrecollecting, said, 'I remember now!  This must be the city where the\ndreadful ghost lives which kills every one.  We had best be off!'\n\n'After we have had our dinners!' quoth hungry Lionheart.\n\nSo having bought all they required from a vacant shop, putting the\nproper price of everything on the counter, since there was no\nshopkeeper, they repaired to the palace, where the Blacksmith was\ninstalled as cook, whilst the others looked through the town.\n\nNo sooner had the dinner begun to give off an appetising smell than\nthe ghost appeared in the form of an old woman, awful and forbidding,\nwith black wrinkled skin, and feet turned backwards.\n\nAt this sight the valiant Blacksmith never stopped to parley, but fled\ninto another room and bolted the door.  Whereupon the ghost ate up the\ndinner in no time, and disappeared; so that when Prince Lionheart and\nthe Carpenter returned, as hungry as hunters, there was no dinner to\nbe found, and no Blacksmith.\n\nThen the Prince bade the Carpenter do the cooking while he went abroad\nto see the town.  But the Carpenter fared no better, for the ghost\nappeared to him also, so that he fled and locked himself up in another\nroom.\n\n'This is really too bad!' quoth Prince Lionheart, when he returned to\nfind no dinner, no Blacksmith, no Carpenter.  So he began to cook the\nfood himself, and ho sooner had it given out a savoury smell than the\nghost arrived; this time, however, seeing so handsome a young man\nbefore her she would not assume her own hag-like shape, but appeared\ninstead as a beautiful young woman.\n\nHowever, the Prince was not in the least bit deceived, for he looked\ndown at her feet, and when he saw they were set on hind side before,\nhe knew at once what she was; so drawing his sharp strong sword, he\nsaid, 'I must trouble you to take your own shape again, as I don't\nlike killing beautiful young women!'\n\nAt this the ghost shrieked with rage, and changed into her own\nloathsome form once more; but at the same moment Prince Lionheart gave\none stroke of his sword, and the horrible, awful thing lay dead at his\nfeet.\n\nThen the Blacksmith and the Carpenter crept out of their\nhiding-places, and the Prince sent messages to all the townsfolk,\nbidding them come back and dwell in peace, on condition of their\nmaking the Blacksmith king, and giving him to wife the prettiest, the\nrichest, and the best-born maiden in the city.\n\nTo this they consented with one accord, and after the wedding was\nover, Prince Lionheart and the Carpenter set forth once more on their\ntravels.  The Blacksmith king was loath to let them go without him,\nbut his master gave him also a barley plant, saying, 'Water and tend\nit carefully; for so long as it flourishes you may rest assured I am\nwell and happy; but if it droops, know that I am in trouble, and come\nto help me.'\n\nPrince Lionheart and the Carpenter had not journeyed far ere they came\nto a big town, where they halted to rest; and as luck would have it\nthe Carpenter fell in love with the fairest maiden in the city, who\nwas as beautiful as the moon and all the stars.  He began to sigh and\ngrumble over the good fortune of the Knifegrinder and the Blacksmith,\nand wish that he too could find a kingdom and a lovely bride, until\nhis master took pity on him, and sending for the chief inhabitants,\ntold them who he was, and ordered them to make the Carpenter king, and\nmarry him to the maiden of his choice.\n\nThis order they obeyed, for Prince Lionheart's fame had been noised\nabroad, and they feared his displeasure; so when the marriage was\nover, and the Carpenter duly established as king, Prince Lionheart\nwent forth on his journey alone, after giving a barley plant, as he\nhad done before, by which his prosperity or misfortune might be known.\n\nHaving journeyed for a long time, he came at last to a river, and as\nhe sat resting on the bank, what was his astonishment to see a ruby of\nenormous size floating down the stream!  Then another, and another\ndrifted past him, each of huge size and glowing hue!  Wonderstruck, he\ndetermined to find out whence they came.  So he travelled up stream\nfor two days and two nights, watching the rubies sweep by in the\ncurrent, until he came to a beautiful marble palace built close to the\nwater's edge.  Gay gardens surrounded it, marble steps led down to the\nriver, where, on a magnificent tree which stretched its branches over\nthe stream, hung a golden basket.  Now if Prince Lionheart had been\nwonderstruck before, what was his astonishment when he saw that the\nbasket contained the head of the most lovely, the most beautiful, the\nmost perfect young Princess that ever was seen!  The eyes were closed,\nthe golden hair fluttered in the breeze, and every minute from the\nslender throat a drop of crimson blood fell into the water, and\nchanging into a ruby, drifted down the stream!\n\nPrince Lionheart was overcome with pity at this heartrending sight;\ntears rose to his eyes, and he determined to search through the palace\nfor some explanation of the beautiful mysterious head.\n\nSo he wandered through richly-decorated marble halls, through carved\ngalleries and spacious corridors, without seeing a living creature,\nuntil he came to a sleeping-room hung with silver tissue, and there,\non a white satin bed, lay the headless body of a young and beautiful\ngirl!  One glance convinced him that it belonged to the exquisite head\nhe had seen swinging in the golden basket by the river-side, and,\nurged by the desire to see the two lovely portions united, he set off\nswiftly to the tree, soon returning with the basket in his hand.  He\nplaced the head gently on the severed throat, when, lo and behold!\nthey joined together in a trice and the beautiful maiden started up to\nlife once more.  The Prince was overjoyed, and, falling on his knees,\nbegged the lovely girl to tell him who she was, and how she came to be\nalone in the mysterious palace.  She informed him that she was a\nking's daughter, with whom a wicked Jinn had fallen in love, in\nconsequence of which passion he had carried her off by his magical\narts:  and being desperately jealous, never left her without first\ncutting off her head, and hanging it up in the golden basket until his\nreturn.\n\nPrince Lionheart, hearing this cruel story, besought the beautiful\nPrincess to fly with him without delay, but she assured him they must\nfirst kill the Jinn, or they would never succeed in making their\nescape.  So she promised to coax the Jinn into telling her the secret\nof his life, and in the meantime bade the Prince cut off her head once\nmore, and replace it in the golden basket, so that her cruel gaoler\nmight not suspect anything.\n\nThe poor Prince could hardly bring himself to perform so dreadful a\ntask, but seeing it was absolutely necessary, he shut his eyes from\nthe heartrending sight, and with one blow of his sharp bright sword\ncut off his dear Princess's head, and after returning the golden\nbasket to its place, hid himself in a closet hard by the\nsleeping-room.\n\nBy and by the Jinn arrived, and, putting on the Princess's head once\nmore, cried angrily, 'Fee! fa! fum!  This room smells of man's flesh!'\n\nThen the Princess pretended to weep, saying, 'Do not be angry with me,\ngood Jinn, for how can I know aught?  Am I not dead whilst you are\naway?  Eat me if you like, but do not be angry with me!'\n\nWhereupon the Jinn, who loved her to distraction, swore he would\nrather die himself than kill her.\n\n'That would be worse for me!' answered the girl, 'for if you were to\ndie while you are away from here, it would be very awkward for me:  I\nshould be neither dead nor alive.'\n\n'Don't distress yourself!' returned the Jinn; 'I am not likely to be\nkilled, for my life lies in something very safe.'\n\n'I hope so, I am sure!' replied the Princess,' but I believe you only\nsay that to comfort me.  I shall never be content until you tell me\nwhere it lies, then I can judge for myself if it is safe.'\n\nAt first the Jinn refused, but the Princess coaxed and wheedled so\nprettily, and he began to get so very sleepy, that at last he replied,\n'I shall never be killed except by a Prince called Lionheart; nor by\nhim unless he can find the solitary tree, where a dog and a horse keep\nsentinel day and night.  Even then he must pass these warders unhurt,\nclimb the tree, kill the starling which sits singing in a golden cage\non the topmost branch, tear open its crop, and destroy the bumble bee\nit contains.  So I am safe; for it would need a lion's heart, or great\nwisdom, to reach the tree and overcome its guardians.'\n\n'How are they to be overcome?' pleaded the Princess; 'tell me that,\nand I shall be satisfied.'\n\nThe Jinn, who was more than half asleep, and quite tired of being\ncross-questioned, answered drowsily, 'In front of the horse lies a\nheap of bones, and in front of the dog a heap of grass.  Whoever takes\na long stick and changes the heaps, so that the horse has grass, and\nthe dog bones, will have no difficulty in passing.'\n\nThe Prince, overhearing this, set off at once to find the solitary\ntree, and ere long discovered it, with a savage horse and furious dog\nkeeping watch and ward over it.  They, however, became quite mild and\nmeek when they received their proper food, and the Prince without any\ndifficulty climbed the tree, seized the starling, and began to twist\nits neck.  At this moment the Jinn, awakening from sleep, became aware\nof what was passing, and flew through the air to do battle for his\nlife.  The Prince, however, seeing him approach, hastily cut open the\nbird's crop, seized the bumble bee, and just as the Jinn was alighting\non the tree, tore off the insect's wings.  The Jinn instantly fell to\nthe ground with a crash, but, determined to kill his enemy, began to\nclimb.  Then the Prince twisted off the bee's legs, and lo! the Jinn\nbecame legless also; and when the bee's head was torn off, the Jinn's\nlife went out entirely.\n\nSo Prince Lionheart returned in triumph to the Princess, who was\noverjoyed to hear of her tyrant's death.  He would have started at\nonce with her to his father's kingdom, but she begged for a little\nrest, so they stayed in the palace, examining all the riches it\ncontained.\n\nNow one day the Princess went down to the river to bathe, and wash her\nbeautiful golden hair, and as she combed it, one or two long strands\ncame out in the comb, shining and glittering like burnished gold.  She\nwas proud of her beautiful hair, and said to herself, 'I will not\nthrow these hairs into the river, to sink in the nasty dirty mud,' so\nshe made a green cup out of a _p\u00eepal_ leaf, coiled the golden\nhairs inside, and set it afloat on the stream.\n\nIt so happened that the river, farther down, flowed past a royal city,\nand the King was sailing in his pleasure-boat, when he espied\nsomething sparkling like sunlight on the water, and bidding his\nboatmen row towards it, found the _p\u00eepal_ leaf cup and the\nglittering golden hairs.\n\nHe thought he had never before seen anything half so beautiful, and\ndetermined not to rest day or night until he had found the owner.\nTherefore he sent for the wisest women in his kingdom, in order to\nfind out where the owner of the glistening golden hair dwelt.\n\nThe first wise woman said, 'If she is on Earth I promise to find her.'\n\nThe second said, 'If she is in Heaven I will tear open the sky and\nbring her to you.'\n\nBut the third laughed, saying, 'Pooh! if you tear open the sky I will\nput a patch in it, so that none will be able to tell the new piece\nfrom the old.'\n\nThe King, considering the last wise woman had proved herself to be the\ncleverest, engaged her to seek for the beautiful owner of the\nglistening golden hair.\n\nNow as the hairs had been found in the river, the wise woman guessed\nthey must have floated down stream from some place higher up, so she\nset off in a grand royal boat, and the boatmen rowed and rowed until\nat last they came in sight of the Jinn's magical marble palace.\n\nThen the cunning wise woman went alone to the steps of the palace, and\nbegan to weep and to wail.  It so happened that as Prince Lionheart\nhad that day gone out hunting, the Princess was all alone, and having\na tender heart, she no sooner heard the old woman weeping than she\ncame out to see what was the matter.\n\n'Mother,' said she kindly, 'why do you weep?'\n\n'My daughter,' cried the wise woman, 'I weep to think what will become\nof you if the handsome Prince is slain by any mischance, and you are\nleft here in the wilderness alone.'  For the witch knew by her arts\nall about the Prince.\n\n'Very true!' replied the Princess, wringing her hands; 'what a\ndreadful thing it would be!  I never thought of it before!'\n\nAll day long she wept over the idea, and at night, when the Prince\nreturned, she told him of her fears; but he laughed at them, saying\nhis life lay in safety, and it was very unlikely any mischance should\nbefall him.\n\nThen the Princess was comforted; only she begged him to tell her\nwherein it lay, so that she might help to preserve it.\n\n'It lies,' returned the Prince, 'in my sharp sword, which never\nfails.  If harm were to come to it I should die; nevertheless, by fair\nmeans naught can prevail against it, so do not fret, sweetheart!'\n\n'It would be wiser to leave it safe at home when you go hunting,'\npleaded the Princess, and though Prince Lionheart told her again there\nwas no cause to be alarmed, she made up her mind to have her own way,\nand the very next morning, when the Prince went a-hunting, she hid his\nstrong sharp sword, and put another in the scabbard, so that he was\nnone the wiser.\n\nThus when the wise woman came once more and wept on the marble stairs,\nthe Princess called to her joyfully, 'Don't cry, mother!--the Prince's\nlife is safe to-day.  It lies in his sword, and that is hidden away in\nmy cupboard.'\n\nThen the wicked old hag waited until the Princess took her noonday\nsleep, and when everything was quiet she stole to the cupboard, took\nthe sword, made a fierce fire, and placed the sharp shining blade in\nthe glowing embers.  As it grew hotter and hotter, Prince Lionheart\nfelt a burning fever creep over his body, and knowing the magical\nproperty of his sword, drew it out to see if aught had befallen it,\nand lo! it was not his own sword but a changeling!  He cried aloud, 'I\nam undone!  I am undone!' and galloped homewards.  But the wise woman\nblew up the fire so quickly that the sword became red-hot ere Prince\nLionheart could arrive, and just as he appeared on the other side of\nthe stream, a rivet came out of the sword hilt, which rolled off, and\nso did the Prince's head.\n\nThen the wise woman, going to the Princess, said, 'Daughter! see how\ntangled your beautiful hair is after your sleep!  Let me wash and\ndress it against your husband's return.'  So they went down the marble\nsteps to the river; but the wise woman said, 'Step into my boat,\nsweetheart; the water is clearer on the farther side.'\n\nAnd then, whilst the Princess's long golden hair was all over her eyes\nlike a veil, so that she could not see, the wicked old hag loosed the\nboat, which went drifting down stream.\n\nIn vain the Princess wept and wailed; all she could do was to make a\ngreat vow, saying, 'O you shameless old thing!  You are taking me away\nto some king's palace, I know; but no matter who he may be, I swear\nnot to look on his face for twelve years!'\n\nAt last they arrived at the royal city, greatly to the King's delight;\nbut when he found how solemn an oath the Princess had taken, he built\nher a high tower, where she lived all alone.  No one save the hewers\nof wood and drawers of water were allowed even to enter the courtyard\nsurrounding it, so there she lived and wept over her lost Lionheart.\n\nNow when the Prince's head had rolled off in that shocking manner, the\nbarley plant he had given to the Knifegrinder king suddenly snapped\nright in two, so that the ear fell to the ground.\n\nThis greatly troubled the faithful Knifegrinder, who immediately\nguessed some terrible disaster had overtaken his dear Prince.  He\ngathered an army without delay, and set off in aid, meeting on the way\nwith the Blacksmith and the Carpenter kings, who were both on the same\nerrand.  When it became evident that the three barley plants had\nfallen at the selfsame moment, the three friends feared the worst, and\nwere not surprised when, after long journeying, they found the\nPrince's body, all burnt and blistered, lying by the river-side, and\nhis head close to it.  Knowing the magical properties of the sword,\nthey looked for it at once, and when they found a changeling in its\nplace their hearts sank indeed!  They lifted the body, and carried it\nto the palace, intending to weep and wail over it, when, lo! they\nfound the real sword, all blistered and burnt, in a heap of ashes, the\nrivet gone, the hilt lying beside it.\n\n'That is soon mended!' cried the Blacksmith king; so he blew up the\nfire, forged a rivet, and fastened the hilt to the blade.  No sooner\nhad he done so than the Prince's head grew to his shoulders as firm as\never.\n\n'My turn now!' quoth the Knifegrindcr king; and he spun his wheel so\ndeftly that the blisters and stains disappeared like magic, and the\nsword was soon as bright as ever.  And as he spun his wheel, the burns\nand scars disappeared likewise from Prince Lionheart's body, until at\nlast the Prince sat up alive, as handsome as before.\n\n'Where is my Princess?' he cried, the very first thing, and then told\nhis friends of all that had passed.\n\n'It is my turn now!' quoth the Carpenter king gleefully; 'give me your\nsword, and I will fetch the Princess back in no time.'\n\nSo he set off with the bright strong sword in his hand to find the\nlost Princess.  Ere long he came to the royal city, and noticing a\ntall new-built tower, inquired who dwelt within.  When the townspeople\ntold him it was a strange Princess, who was kept in such close\nimprisonment that no one but hewers of wood and drawers of water were\nallowed even to enter the courtyard, he was certain it must be she\nwhom he sought.  However, to make sure, he disguised himself as a\nwoodman, and going beneath the windows, cried, 'Wood! wood!  Fifteen\ngold pieces for this bundle of wood!'\n\nThe Princess, who was sitting on the roof, taking the air, bade her\nservant ask what sort of wood it was to make it so expensive.\n\n'It is only firewood,' answered the disguised Carpenter,' but it was\ncut with this sharp bright sword!'\n\nHearing these words, the Princess, with a beating heart, peered\nthrough the parapet, and recognised Prince Lionheart's sword.  So she\nbade her servant inquire if the woodman had anything else to sell, and\nhe replied that he had a wonderful flying palanquin, which he would\nshow to the Princess, if she wished it, when she walked in the garden\nat evening.\n\nShe agreed to the proposal, and the Carpenter spent all the day in\nfashioning a marvellous palanquin.  This he took with him to the tower\ngarden, saying, 'Seat yourself in it, my Princess, and try how well it\nflies.'\n\nBut the King's sister, who was there, said the Princess must not go\nalone, so she got in also, and so did the wicked wise woman.  Then the\nCarpenter king jumped up outside, and immediately the palanquin began\nto fly higher and higher, like a bird.\n\n'I have had enough!--let us go down,' said the King's sister after a\ntime.\n\nWhereupon the Carpenter seized her by the waist, and threw her\noverboard, just as they were sailing above the river, so that she was\ndrowned; but he waited until they were just above the high tower\nbefore he threw down the wicked wise woman, so that she got finely\nsmashed on the stones.\n\nThen the palanquin flew straight to the Jinn's magical marble palace,\nwhere Prince Lionheart, who had been awaiting the Carpenter king's\narrival with the greatest impatience, was overjoyed to see his\nPrincess once more, and set off, escorted by his three companion\nkings, to his father's dominions.  But when the poor old King, who had\nvery much aged since his son's departure, saw the three armies coming,\nhe made sure they were an invading force, so he went out to meet them,\nand said, 'Take all my riches, but leave my poor people in peace, for\nI am old, and cannot fight.  Had my dear brave son Lionheart been with\nme, it would have been a different affair, but he left us years ago,\nand no one has heard aught of him since.'\n\nOn this, the Prince flung himself on his father's neck, and told him\nall that had occurred, and how these were his three old friends--the\nKnifegrinder, the Blacksmith, and the Carpenter.  This greatly\ndelighted the old man; but when he saw the golden-haired bride his son\nhad brought home, his joy knew no bounds.\n\nSo everybody was pleased, and lived happily ever after.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAMBIKIN\n\n\n[Illustration:  Lambikin surrounded by vicious animals]\n\nOnce upon a time there was a wee wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on\nhis little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly.\n\nNow one day he set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy\nto think of all the good things he should get from her, when whom\nshould he meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and\nsaid--'Lambikin!  Lambikin!  I'll _eat_ _you_!'\n\nBut Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said--\n\n  'To Granny's house I go,\n  Where I shall fatter grow,\n  Then you can eat me so.'\n\nThe Jackal thought this reasonable, and let\nLambikin pass.\n\nBy and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the\ntender morsel before him, said--'Lambikin!  Lambikin!  I'll _eat_\n_you_!'\n\nBut Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said--\n\n  'To Granny's house I go,\n  Where I shall fatter grow,\n  Then you can eat me so.'\n\nThe Vulture thought this reasonable, and let\nLambikin pass.\n\nAnd by and by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, and an\nEagle, and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said--\n'Lambikin!  Lambikin!  I'll _eat_ _you_!'\n\nBut to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk--\n\n  'To Granny's house I go,\n  Where I shall fatter grow,\n  Then you can eat me so.'\n\nAt last he reached his Granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry,\n'Granny, dear, I've promised to get very fat; so, as people ought to\nkeep their promises, please put me into the corn-bin _at once!_\n\nSo his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin,\nand there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate,\nand ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said\nhe was fat enough for anything, and must go home.  But cunning little\nLambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to\neat him on the way back, he was so plump and tender.\n\n'I'll tell you what you must do,' said Master Lambikin,' you must make\na little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and\nthen I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a\ndrum myself.'\n\nSo his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother's skin,\nwith the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in\nthe middle, and trundled away gaily.  Soon he met with the Eagle, who\ncalled out--\n\n  'Drumikin!  Drumikin!\n  Have you seen Lambikin?'\n\nAnd Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest, replied--\n\n  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,\n  On, little Drumikin!  Tum-pa, tum-too!'\n\n'How very annoying!' sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the\ntender morsel he had let slip.\n\nMeanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing--\n\n  'Tum-pa, tum-too;\n  Tum-pa, tum-too!'\n\nEvery animal and bird he met asked him the same question--\n\n  'Drumikin!  Drumikin!\n  Have you seen Lambikin?'\n\nAnd to each of them the little sly-boots replied--\n\n  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,\n  On, little Drumikin!  Tum-pa, tum-too;\n  Tum-pa, turn-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!'\n\nThen they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let\nslip.\n\nAt last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as\nsharp as a needle, and he too called out--\n\n  'Drumikin!  Drumikin!\n  Have you seen Lambikin?'\n\nAnd Larnbikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gaily--\n\n  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,\n  On, little Drumikin!  Tum-pa--'\n\nBut he never got any further, for the Jackal recognised his voice at\nonce, and cried, 'Hullo! you've turned yourself inside out, have you?\nJust you come out of that!'\n\nWhereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.\n\n\n\n\nBOPOL\u00dbCH\u00ce\n\n\nOnce upon a time a number of young girls went to draw water at the\nvillage well, and while they were filling their jars, fell a-talking\nof their betrothals and weddings.\n\nSaid one--'My uncle will soon be coming with the bridal presents, and\nhe is to bring the finest clothes imaginable.'\n\nSaid a second--'And my uncle-in-law is coming, I know, bringing the\nmost delicious sweetmeats you could think of.'\n\nSaid a third--'Oh, my uncle will be here in no time, with the rarest\njewels in the world.'\n\nBut Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, the prettiest girl of them all, looked sad, for she was\nan orphan, and had no one to arrange a marriage for her.  Nevertheless\nshe was too proud to remain silent, so she said gaily--'And my uncle\nis coming also, bringing me fine dresses, fine food, and fine jewels.'\n\nNow a wandering pedlar, who sold sweet scents and cosmetics of all\nsorts to the country women, happened to be sitting near the well, and\nheard what Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee said.  Being much struck by her beauty and\nspirit, he determined to marry her himself, and the very next day,\ndisguised as a well-to-do farmer, he came to Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee's house laden\nwith trays upon trays full of fine dresses, fine food, and fine\njewels; for he was not a real pedlar, but a wicked robber, ever so\nrich.\n\nBopol\u00fbch\u00ee could hardly believe her eyes, for everything was just as\nshe had foretold, and the robber said he was her father's brother, who\nhad been away in the world for years, and had now come back to arrange\nher marriage with one of his sons, her cousin.\n\nHearing this, Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee of course believed it all, and was ever so\nmuch pleased; so she packed up the few things she possessed in a\nbundle, and set off with the robber in high spirits.\n\nBut as they went along the road, a crow sitting on a branch croaked--\n\n  'Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, 'tis a pity!\n  You have lost your wits, my pretty!\n  'Tis no uncle that relieves you,\n  But a robber who deceives you!'\n\n'Uncle!' said Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, 'that crow croaks funnily.  What does it\nsay?'\n\n'Pooh!' returned the robber, 'all the crows in this country croak like\nthat.'\n\nA little farther on they met a peacock, which, as soon as it caught\nsight of the pretty little maiden, began to scream--\n\n     'Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, 'tis a pity!\n     You have lost your wits, my pretty!\n     'Tis no uncle that relieves you,\n     But a robber who deceives you!'\n\n'Uncle!' said the girl, 'that peacock screams funnily.  What does it\nsay?'\n\n'Pooh!' returned the robber, 'all peacocks scream like that in this\ncountry.'\n\nBy and by a jackal slunk across the road; the moment it saw poor\npretty Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee it began to howl--\n\n  'Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, 'tis a pity!\n  You have lost your wits, my pretty!\n  'Tis no uncle that relieves you,\n  But a robber who deceives you!'\n\n'Uncle!' said the maiden, 'that jackal howls funnily.  What does it\nsay?'\n\n'Pooh!' returned the robber, 'all jackals howl like that in this\ncountry.'\n\nSo poor pretty Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee journeyed on till they reached the robber's\nhouse.  Then he told her who he was, and how he intended to marry her\nhimself.  She wept and cried bitterly, but the robber had no pity, and\nleft her in charge of his old, oh! ever so old mother, while he went\nout to make arrangements for the marriage feast.\n\nNow Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee had such beautiful hair that it reached right down to\nher ankles, but the old mother hadn't a hair on her old bald head.\n\n'Daughter!' said the old, ever so old. mother, as she was putting the\nbridal dress on Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, 'how did you manage to get such beautiful\nhair?'\n\n'Well,' replied Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, 'my mother made it grow by pounding my head\nin the big mortar for husking rice.  At every stroke of the pestle my\nhair grew longer and longer.  I assure you it is a plan that never\nfails.'\n\n'Perhaps it would make _my_ hair grow!' said the old woman\neagerly.\n\n'Perhaps it would!' quoth cunning Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee.\n\nSo the old, ever so old mother put her head in the mortar, and\nBopol\u00fbch\u00ee pounded away with such a will that the old lady died.\n\nThen Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee dressed the dead body in the scarlet bridal dress,\nseated it on the low bridal chair, drew the veil well over the face,\nand put the spinning-wheel in front of it, so that when the robber\ncame home he might think it was the bride.  Then she put on the old\nmother's clothes, and seizing her own bundle, stepped out of the house\nas quickly as possible.\n\nOn her way home she met the robber, who was returning with a stolen\nmillstone, to grind the corn for the wedding feast, on his head.  She\nwas dreadfully frightened, and slipped behind the hedge, so as not to\nbe seen.  But the robber, not recognising her in the old mother's\ndress, thought she was some strange woman from a neighbouring village,\nand so to avoid being seen he slipped behind the other hedge.  Thus\nBopol\u00fbch\u00ee reached home in safety.\n\nMeanwhile, the robber, having come to his house, saw the figure in\nbridal scarlet sitting on the bridal chair, spinning, and of course\nthought it was Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee.  So he called to her to help him down with\nthe millstone, but she didn't answer.  He called again, but still she\ndidn't answer.  Then he fell into a rage, and threw the millstone at\nher head.  The figure toppled over, and lo and behold! it was not\nBopol\u00fbch\u00ee at all, but his old, ever so old mother!  Whereupon the\nrobber wept, and beat his breast, thinking he had killed her; but when\nhe discovered pretty Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee had run away, he became wild with rage,\nand determined to bring her back somehow.\n\n[Illustration:  Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee and the robber]\n\nNow Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee was convinced that the robber would try to carry her\noff, so every night she begged a new lodging in some friend's house,\nleaving her own little bed in her own little house quite empty, but\nafter a month or so she had come to the end of her friends, and did\nnot like to ask any of them to give her shelter a second time.  So she\ndetermined to brave it out and sleep at home, whatever happened; but\nshe took a bill-hook to bed with her.  Sure enough, in the very middle\nof the night four men crept in, and each seizing a leg of the bed,\nlifted it up and walked off, the robber himself having hold of the leg\nclose behind her head.  Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee was wide awake, but pretended to be\nfast asleep, until she came to a wild deserted spot, where the thieves\nwere off their guard; then she whipped out the bill-hook, and in a\ntwinkling cut off the heads of the two thieves at the foot of the\nbed.  Turning round quickly, she did the same to the other thief at\nthe head, but the robber himself ran away in a terrible fright, and\nscrambled like a wild cat up a tree close by before she could reach\nhim.\n\n'Come down!' cried brave Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee, brandishing the bill-hook, 'and\nfight it out!'\n\nBut the robber would not come down; so Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee gathered all the\nsticks she could find, piled them round the tree, and set fire to\nthem.  Of course the tree caught fire also, and the robber, half\nstifled with the smoke, tried to jump down, and was killed.\n\nAfter that, Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee went to the robber's house and carried off all\nthe gold and silver, jewels and clothes, that were hidden there,\ncoming back to the village so rich that she could marry any one she\npleased.  And that was the end of Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee's adventures.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCESS AUBERGINE\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a poor Brahman and his wife, so poor,\nthat often they did not know whither to turn for a meal, and were\nreduced to wild herbs and roots for their dinner.\n\nNow one day, as the Brahman was gathering such herbs as he could find\nin the wilderness, he came upon an Aubergine, or egg-plant.  Thinking\nit might prove useful by and by, he dug it up, took it home, and\nplanted it by his cottage door.  Every day he watered and tended it,\nso that it grew wonderfully, and at last bore one large fruit as big\nas a pear, purple and white and glossy,--such a handsome fruit, that\nthe good couple thought it a pity to pick it, and let it hang on the\nplant day after day, until one fine morning when there was absolutely\nnothing to eat in the house.  Then the Brahman said to his wife, 'We\nmust eat the egg-fruit; go and cut it, and prepare it for dinner.'\n\nSo the Brahman's wife took a knife, and cut the beautiful purple and\nwhite fruit off the plant, and as she did so she thought she heard a\nlow moan.  But when she sat down and began to peel the egg-fruit, she\nheard a tiny voice say quite distinctly, 'Take care!--oh, please take\ncare!  Peel more gently, or I am sure the knife will run into me!'\n\nThe good woman was terribly perplexed, but went on peeling as gently\nas she could, wondering all the time what had bewitched the egg-fruit,\nuntil she had cut quite through the rind, when--what do you think\nhappened?  Why, out stepped the most beautiful little maiden\nimaginable, dressed in purple and white satin!\n\nThe poor Brahman and his wife were mightily astonished, but still more\ndelighted; for, having no children of their own, they looked on the\ntiny maiden as a godsend, and determined to adopt her.  So they took\nthe greatest care of her, petting and spoiling her, and always calling\nher the Princess Aubergine; for, said the worthy couple, if she was\nnot a Princess _really_, she was dainty and delicate enough to be\nany king's daughter.\n\nNow not far from the Brahman's hut lived a King, who had a beautiful\nwife, and seven stalwart young sons.  One day, a slave-girl from the\npalace, happening to pass by the Brahman's cottage, went in to ask for\na light, and there she saw the beautiful Aubergine.  She went straight\nhome to the palace, and told her mistress how in a hovel close by\nthere lived a Princess so lovely and charming, that were the King once\nto set eyes on her, he would straightway forget, not only his Queen,\nbut every other woman in the world.\n\nNow the Queen, who was of a very jealous disposition, could not bear\nthe idea of any one being more beautiful than she was herself, so she\ncast about in her mind how she could destroy the lovely Aubergine.  If\nshe could only inveigle the girl into the palace, she could easily do\nthe rest, for she was a sorceress, and learned in all sorts of magic.\nSo she sent a message to the Princess Aubergine, to say that the fame\nof her great beauty had reached the palace, and the Queen would like\nto see with her own eyes if report said true.\n\nNow lovely Aubergine was vain of her beauty, and fell into the trap.\nShe went to the palace, and the Queen, pretending to be wonderstruck,\nsaid, 'You were born to live in kings' houses!  From this time you\nmust never leave me; henceforth you are my sister.'\n\nThis flattered Princess Aubergine's vanity, so, nothing loath, she\nremained in the palace, and exchanged veils with the Queen, and drank\nmilk out of the same cup with her, as is the custom when two people\nsay they will be sisters.\n\nBut the Queen, from the very first moment she set eyes on her, had\nseen that Princess Aubergine was no human being, but a fairy, and knew\nshe must be very careful how she set about her magic.  Therefore she\nlaid strong spells upon her while she slept, and said--\n\n  'Beautiful Aubergine! tell me true--\n  In what thing does your life lie?'\n\nAnd the Princess answered--'In the life of your eldest son.  Kill him,\nand I will die also.'\n\nSo the very next morning the wicked Queen went to where her eldest son\nlay sleeping, and killed him with her own hands.  Then she sent the\nslave-girl to the Princess's apartments, hoping to hear she was dead\ntoo, but the girl returned saying the Princess was alive and well.\n\nThen the Queen wept tears of rage, for she knew her spells had not\nbeen strong enough, and she had killed her son for naught.\nNevertheless, the next night she laid stronger spells upon the\nPrincess Aubergine, saying--\n\n  'Princess Aubergine! tell me true--\n  In what thing does your life lie?'\n\nAnd the sleeping Princess answered--'In the life of your second son.\nKill him, and I too will die.'\n\nSo the wicked Queen killed her second son with her own hands, but when\nshe sent the slave-girl to see whether Aubergine was dead also, the\ngirl returned again saying the Princess was alive and well.\n\nThen the sorceress-queen cried with rage and spite, for she had killed\nher second son for naught.  Nevertheless, she would not give up her\nwicked project, and the next night laid still stronger spells on the\nsleeping Princess, asking her--\n\n  'Princess Aubergine! tell me true--\n  In what thing does your life lie?'\n\nAnd the Princess replied--'In the life of your third son.  Kill him,\nand I must die also!'\n\nBut the same thing happened.  Though the young Prince was killed by\nhis wicked mother, Aubergine remained alive and well; and so it went\non day after day, until all the seven young Princes were slain, and\ntheir cruel mother still wept tears of rage and spite, at having\nkilled her seven sons for naught.\n\nThen the sorceress-queen summoned up all her art, and laid such strong\nspells on the Princess Aubergine that she could no longer resist them,\nand was obliged to answer truly; so when the wicked Queen asked--\n\n  'Princess Aubergine! tell me true--\n  In what thing does your life lie?'\n\nthe poor Princess was obliged to answer--'In a river far away there\nlives a red and green fish.  Inside the fish there is a bumble bee,\ninside the bee a tiny box, and inside the box is the wonderful\nnine-lakh necklace.  Put it on, and I shall die.'\n\nThen the Queen was satisfied, and set about finding the red and green\nfish.  Therefore, when her husband the King came to see her, she began\nto sob and to cry, until he asked her what was the matter.  Then she\ntold him she had set her heart on procuring the wonderful nine-lakh\nnecklace.\n\n'But where is it to be found?' asked the King.\n\nAnd the Queen answered in the words of the Princess Aubergine,--'In a\nriver far away there lives a red and green fish.  Inside the fish\nthere is a bumble bee, inside the bee a tiny box, and in the box is\nthe nine-lakh necklace.'\n\nNow the King was a very kind man, and had grieved sincerely for the\nloss of his seven young sons, who, the Queen said, had died suddenly\nof an infectious disease.  Seeing his wife so distressed, and being\nanxious to comfort her, he gave orders that every fisherman in his\nkingdom was to fish all day until the red and green fish was found.\nSo all the fishermen set to work, and ere long the Queen's desire was\nfulfilled--the red and green fish was caught, and when the wicked\nsorceress opened it, there was the bumble bee, and inside the bee was\nthe box, and inside the box the wonderful nine-lakh necklace, which\nthe Queen put on at once.\n\nNow no sooner had the Princess Aubergine been forced to tell the\nsecret of her life by the Queen's magic, than she knew she must die;\nso she returned sadly to her foster-parents' hut, and telling them of\nher approaching death, begged them neither to burn nor bury her body.\n'This is what I wish you to do,' she said; 'dress me in my finest\nclothes, lay me on my bed, scatter flowers over me, and carry me to\nthe wildest wilderness.  There you must place the bed on the ground,\nand build a high mud wall around it, so that no one will be able to\nsee over.'\n\nThe poor foster-parents, weeping bitterly, promised to do as she\nwished; so when the Princess died (which happened at the very moment\nthe wicked Queen put on the nine-lakh necklace), they dressed her in\nher best clothes, scattered flowers over the bed, and carried her out\nto the wildest wilderness.\n\nNow when the Queen sent the slave-girl to the Br\u00e2hman's hut to inquire\nif the Princess Aubergine was really dead, the girl returned saying,\n'She is dead, but neither burnt nor buried; she lies out in the\nwilderness to the north, covered with flowers, as beautiful as the\nmoon!'\n\nThe Queen was not satisfied with this reply, but as she could do no\nmore, had to be content.\n\nNow the King grieved bitterly for his seven young sons, and to try to\nforget his grief he went out hunting every day; so the Queen, who\nfeared lest in his wanderings he might find the dead Princess\nAubergine, made him promise never to hunt towards the north, for, she\nsaid, 'some evil will surely befall you it you do.'\n\nBut one day, having hunted to the east, and the south, and the west,\nwithout finding game, he forgot his promise, and hunted towards the\nnorth.  In his wanderings he lost his way, and came upon a high\nenclosure, with no door; being curious to know what it contained, he\nclimbed over the wall.  He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw\na lovely Princess lying on a flower-strewn bed, looking as if she had\njust fallen asleep.  It seemed impossible she could be dead, so,\nkneeling down beside her, he spent the whole day praying and\nbeseeching her to open her eyes.  At nightfall he returned to his\npalace, but with the dawning he took his bow, and, dismissing all his\nattendants on the pretext of hunting alone, flew to his beautiful\nPrincess.  So he passed day after day, kneeling distractedly beside\nthe lovely Aubergine, beseeching her to rise; but she never stirred.\n\nNow at the end of a year he, one day, found the most beautiful little\nboy imaginable lying beside the Princess.  He was greatly astonished,\nbut taking the child in his arms, cared for it tenderly all day, and\nat night laid it down beside its dead mother.  After some time the\nchild learnt to talk, and when the King asked it if its mother was\nalways dead, it replied, 'No! at night she is alive, and cares for me\nas you do during the day.'\n\nHearing this, the King bade the boy ask his mother what made her die,\nand the next day the boy replied, 'My mother says it is the nine-lakh\nnecklace your Queen wears.  At night, when the Queen takes it off, my\nmother becomes alive again, but every morning, when the Queen puts it\non, my mother dies.'\n\nThis greatly puzzled the King, who could not imagine what his Queen\ncould have to do with the mysterious Princess, so he told the boy to\nask his mother whose son he was.\n\nThe next morning the boy replied, 'Mother bade me say I am your son,\nsent to console you for the loss of the seven fair sons your wicked\nQueen murdered out of jealousy of my mother, the lovely Princess\nAubergine.'\n\nThen the King grew very wroth at the thought of his dead sons, and\nbade the boy ask his mother how the wicked Queen was to be punished,\nand by what means the necklace could be recovered.\n\nThe next morning the boy replied, 'Mother says I am the only person\nwho can recover the necklace, so to-night, when you return to the\npalace, you are to take me with you.'  So the King carried the boy\nback to the palace, and told all his ministers and courtiers that the\nchild was his heir.  On this, the sorceress-queen, thinking of her own\ndead sons, became mad with jealousy, and determined to poison the\nboy.  To this end she prepared some tempting sweetmeats, and,\ncaressing the child, gave him a handful, bidding him eat them; but the\nchild refused, saying he would not do so until she gave him the\nglittering necklace she wore round her throat, to play with.\n\nDetermined to poison the boy, and seeing no other way of inducing him\nto eat the sweetmeats, the sorceress-queen slipped off the nine-lakh\nnecklace, and gave it to the child.  No sooner had he touched it than\nhe fled away so fast that none of the servants or guards could stop\nhim, and never drew breath till he reached the place where the\nbeautiful Princess Aubergine lay dead.  He threw the necklace over her\nhead, and immediately she rose up lovelier than ever.  Then the King\ncame, and besought her to return to the palace as his bride, but she\nreplied, 'I will never be your wife till that wicked sorceress is\ndead, for she would only murder me and my boy, as she murdered your\nseven young sons.  If you will dig a deep ditch at the threshold of\nthe palace, fill it with scorpions and snakes, throw the wicked Queen\ninto it, and bury her alive, I will walk over her grave to be your\nwife.'\n\nSo the King ordered a deep ditch to be dug, and had it filled with\nscorpions and snakes.  Then he went to the sorceress-queen, and bade\nher come to see something very wonderful.  But she refused, suspecting\na trick.  Then the guards seized her, bound her, flung her into the\nditch amongst the scorpions and snakes, and buried her alive with\nthem.  As for the Princess Aubergine, she and her son walked over the\ngrave, and lived happily in the palace ever after.\n\n\n\n\nVALIANT VICKY, THE BRAVE WEAVER\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a little weaver, by name Victor Prince,\nbut because his head was big, his legs thin, and he was altogether\nsmall, and weak, and ridiculous, his neighbours called him\nVicky--Little Vicky the Weaver.\n\nBut despite his size, his thin legs, and his ridiculous appearance,\nVicky was very valiant, and loved to _talk_ for hours of his\nbravery, and the heroic acts he would perform if Fate gave him an\nopportunity.  Only Fate did not, and in consequence Vicky remained\nlittle Vicky the valiant weaver, who was laughed at by all for his\nboasting.\n\nNow one day, as Vicky was sitting at his loom, weaving, a mosquito\nsettled on his left hand just as he was throwing the shuttle from his\nright hand, and by chance, after gliding swiftly through the warp, the\nshuttle came flying into his left hand on the very spot where the\nmosquito had settled, and squashed it.  Seeing this, Vicky became\ndesperately excited:  'It is as I have always said,' he cried; 'if I\nonly had the chance I knew I could show my mettle!  Now, I'd like to\nknow how many people could have done that?  Killing a mosquito is\neasy, and throwing a shuttle is easy, but to do both at one time is a\nmighty different affair!  It is easy enough to shoot a great hulking\nman--there is something to see, something to aim at; then guns and\ncrossbows are made for shooting; but to shoot a _mosquito_ with a\n_shuttle_ is quite another thing.  That requires a man!'\n\nThe more he thought over the matter, the more elated he became over\nhis skill and bravery, until he determined that he would no longer\nsuffer himself to be called 'Vicky.'  No! now that he had shown his\nmettle he would be called 'Victor'--'Victor Prince'--or better still,\n'Prince Victor'; that was a name worthy his merits.  But when he\nannounced this determination to the neighbours, they roared with\nlaughter, and though some did call him Prince Victor, it was with such\nsniggering and giggling and mock reverence that the little man flew\nhome in a rage.  Here he met with no better reception, for his wife, a\nfine handsome young woman, who was tired to death by her ridiculous\nlittle husband's whims and fancies, sharply bade him hold his tongue\nand not make a fool of himself.  Upon this, beside himself with pride\nand mortification, he seized her by the hair, and beat her most\nunmercifully.  Then, resolving to stay no longer in a town where his\nmerits were unrecognised, he bade her prepare some bread for a\njourney, and set about packing his bundle.\n\n'I will go into the world!' he said to himself.  'The man who can\nshoot a mosquito dead with a shuttle ought not to hide his light under\na bushel' So off he set, with his bundle, his shuttle, and a loaf of\nbread tied up in a kerchief.\n\nNow as he journeyed he came to a city where a dreadful elephant came\ndaily to make a meal off the inhabitants.  Many mighty warriors had\ngone against it, but none had returned.  On hearing this the valiant\nlittle weaver thought to himself, 'Now is my chance!  A great haystack\nof an elephant will be a fine mark to a man who has shot a mosquito\nwith a shuttle!'  So he went to the King, and announced that he\nproposed single-handed to meet and slay the elephant.  At first the\nKing thought the little man was mad, but as he persisted in his words,\nhe told him that he was free to try his luck if he chose to run the\nrisk; adding that many better men than he had failed.\n\nNevertheless, our brave weaver was nothing daunted; he even refused to\ntake either sword or bow, but strutted out to meet the elephant armed\nonly with his shuttle.\n\n'It is a weapon I thoroughly understand, good people,' he replied\nboastfully to those who urged him to choose some more deadly arm, 'and\nit has done its work in its time, I can tell you!'\n\nIt was a beautiful sight to see little Vicky swaggering out to meet\nhis enemy, while the townsfolk flocked to the walls to witness the\nfight.  Never was such a valiant weaver till the elephant, descrying\nits tiny antagonist, trumpeted fiercely, and charged right at him, and\nthen, alas! all the little man's courage disappeared, and forgetting\nhis new name of Prince Victor he dropped his bundle, his shuttle, and\nhis bread, and bolted away as fast as Vicky's legs could carry him.\n\nNow it so happened that his wife had made the bread ever so sweet, and\nhad put all sorts of tasty spices in it, because she wanted to hide\nthe flavour of the poison she had put in it also; for she was a\nwicked, revengeful woman, who wanted to be rid of her tiresome,\nwhimsical little husband.  And so, as the elephant charged past, it\nsmelt the delicious spices, and catching up the bread with its long\ntrunk, gobbled it up without stopping an instant.  Meanwhile fear lent\nspeed to Vicky's short legs, but though he ran like a hare, the\nelephant soon overtook him.  In vain he doubled and doubled, and the\nbeast's hot breath was on him, when in sheer desperation he turned,\nhoping to bolt through the enormous creature's legs; being half blind\nwith fear, however, he ran full tilt against them instead.  Now, as\nluck would have it, at that very moment the poison took effect, and\nthe elephant fell to the ground stone dead.\n\nWhen the spectators saw the monster fall they could scarcely believe\ntheir eyes, but their astonishment was greater still when, running up\nto the scene of action, they found Valiant Vicky seated in triumph on\nthe elephant's head, calmly mopping his face with his handkerchief.\n\n'I had to pretend to run away,' he explained, 'or the coward would\nnever have engaged me.  Then I gave him a little push, and he fell\ndown, as you see.  Elephants are big beasts, but they have no strength\nto speak of.'\n\nThe good folks were amazed at the careless way in which Valiant Vicky\nspoke of his achievement, and as they had been too far off to see very\ndistinctly what had occurred, they went and told the King that the\nlittle weaver was just a feaiful wee man, and had knocked over the\nelephant like a ninepin.  Ihen the King said to himself, 'None of my\nwarriors and wrestlers, no, not even the heroes of old, could have\ndone this.  I must secure this little man's services if I can.'  So he\nasked Vicky why he was wandering about the world.\n\n[Illustration:  Vicky descending from the dead elephant]\n\n'For pleasure, for service, or for conquest!' returned Valiant Vicky,\nlaying such stress on the last word that the King, in a great hurry,\nmade him Commander-in-Chief of his whole army, for fear he should take\nservice elsewhere.\n\nSo there was Valiant Vicky a mighty fine warrior, and as proud as a\npeacock of having fulfilled his own predictions.\n\n'I knew it!' he would say to himself when he was dressed out in full\nfig, with shining armour and waving plumes, and spears, swords, and\nshields; 'I _felt_ I had it in me!'\n\nNow after some time a terribly savage tiger came ravaging the country,\nand at last the city-folk petitioned that the mighty Prince Victor\nmight be sent out to destroy it.  So out he went at the head of his\narmy,--for he was a great man now, and had quite forgotten all about\nlooms and shuttles.  But first he made the King promise his daughter\nin marriage as a reward.  'Nothing for nothing!' said the astute\nlittle weaver to himself, and when the promise was given he went out\nas gay as a lark.\n\n'Do not distress yourselves, good people,' he said to those who\nflocked round him praying for his successful return; 'it is ridiculous\nto suppose the tiger will have a chance.  Why, I knocked over an\nelephant with my little finger!  I am really invincible! *'\n\nBut, alas for our Valiant Vicky!  No sooner did he see the tiger\nlashing its tail and charging down on him, than he ran for the nearest\ntree, and scrambled into the branches.  There he sat like a monkey,\nwhile the tiger glowered at him from below.  Of course when the army\nsaw their Commander-in-Chief bolt like a mouse, they followed his\nexample, and never stopped until they reached the city, where they\nspread the news that the little hero had fled up a tree.\n\n'There let him stay!' said the King, secretly relieved, for he was\njealous of the little weaver's prowess, and did not want him for a\nson-in-law.\n\nMeanwhile, Valiant Vicky sat cowering in the tree, while the tiger\noccupied itself below with sharpening its teeth and claws, and curling\nits whiskers, till poor Vicky nearly tumbled into its jaws with\nfright.  So one day, two days, three days, six days passed by; on the\nseventh the tiger was fiercer, hungrier, and more watchful than ever.\nAs for the poor little weaver, he was so hungry that his hunger made\nhim brave, and he determined to try and slip past his enemy during its\nmid-day snooze.  He crept stealthily down inch by inch, till his foot\nwas within a yard of the ground, and then?  Why then the tiger, which\nhad had one eye open all the time, jumped up with a roar!\n\nValiant Vicky shrieked with fear, and making a tremendous effort,\nswung himself into a branch, cocking his little bandy legs over it to\nkeep them out of reach, for the tiger's red panting mouth and gleaming\nwhite teeth were within half an inch of his toes.  In doing so, his\ndagger fell out of its sheath, and went pop into the tiger's wide-open\nmouth, and thus point foremost down into its stomach, so that it died!\n\nValiant Vicky could scarcely believe his good fortune, but, after\nprodding at the body with a branch, and finding it did not move, he\nconcluded the tiger really was dead, and ventured down.  Then he cut\noff its head, and went home in triumph to the King.\n\n'You and your warriors are a nice set of cowards!' said he,\nwrathfully.  'Here have I been fighting that tiger for seven days and\nseven nights, without bite or sup, whilst you have been guzzling and\nsnoozing at home.  Pah! it's disgusting! but I suppose every one is\nnot a hero as I am!'  So Prince Victor married the King's daughter,\nand was a greater man than ever.\n\nBut by and by a neighbouring prince, who bore a grudge against the\nKing, came with a huge army, and encamped outside the city, swearing\nto put every man, woman, and child within it to the sword.  Hearing\nthis, the inhabitants of course cried with one accord, 'Prince\nVictor!  Prince Victor to the rescue!' so the valiant little weaver\nwas ordered by the King to go out and destroy the invading army, after\nwhich he was to receive half the kingdom as a reward.  Now Valiant\nVicky, with all his boasting, was no fool, and he said to himself,\n'This is a very different affair from the others.  A man may kill a\nmosquito, an elephant, and a tiger; yet another man may kill\n_him_.  And here is not one man, but thousands!  No, no!--what is\nthe use of half a kingdom if you haven't a head on your shoulders?\nUnder the circumstances I prefer _not_ to be a hero!'\n\nSo in the dead of night he bade his wife rise, pack up her golden\ndishes, and follow him--'Not that you will want the golden dishes at\nmy house,' he explained boastfully, 'for I have heaps and heaps, but\non the journey these will be useful.'  Then he crept outside the city,\nfollowed by his wife carrying the bundle, and began to steal through\nthe enemy's camp.\n\nJust as they were in the very middle of it, a big cockchafer flew into\nValiant Vicky's face.  'Run! run!' he shrieked to his wife, in a\nterrible taking, and setting off as fast as he could, never stopped\ntill he had reached his room again and hidden under the bed.  His wife\nset off at a run likewise, dropping her bundle of golden dishes with a\nclang.  The noise roused the enemy, who, thinking they were attacked,\nflew to arms; but being half asleep, and the night being pitch-dark,\nthey could not distinguish friend from foe, and falling on each other,\nfought with such fury that by next morning not one was left alive!\nAnd then, as may be imagined, great were the rejoicings at Prince\nVictor's prowess.  'It was a mere trifle!' remarked that valiant\nlittle gentleman modestly; 'when a man can shoot a mosquito with a\nshuttle, everything else is child's play.'\n\nSo he received half the kingdom, and ruled it with great dignity,\nrefusing ever afterwards to fight, saying truly that kings never\nfought themselves, but paid others to fight for them.\n\nThus he lived in peace, and when he died every one said Valiant Vicky\nwas the greatest hero the world had ever seen.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SON OF SEVEN MOTHERS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King who had seven wives, but no\nchildren.  This was a great grief to him, especially when he\nremembered that on his death there would be no heir to inherit the\nkingdom.\n\nNow, one day, a poor old _fak\u00eer_ or religious devotee, came to\nthe King and said, 'Your prayers are heard, your desire shall be\naccomplished, and each of your seven queens shall bear a son.'\n\nThe King's delight at this promise knew no bounds, and he gave orders\nfor appropriate festivities to be prepared against the coming event\nthroughout the length and breadth of the land.\n\nMeanwhile the seven Queens lived luxuriously in a splendid palace,\nattended by hundreds of female slaves, and fed to their hearts'\ncontent on sweetmeats and confectionery.\n\nNow the King was very fond of hunting, and one day, before he started,\nthe seven Queens sent him a message saying, 'May it please our dearest\nlord not to hunt towards the north to-day, for we have dreamt bad\ndreams, and fear lest evil should befall you.'\n\nThe King, to allay their anxiety, promised regard for their wishes,\nand set out towards the south; but as luck would have it, although he\nhunted diligently, he found no game.  Nor had he greater success to\nthe east or west, so that, being a keen sportsman, and determined not\nto go home empty-handed, he forgot all about his promise, and turned\nto the north.  Here also he met at first with no reward, but just as\nhe had made up his mind to give up for that day, a white hind with\ngolden horns and silver hoofs flashed past him into a thicket.  So\nquickly did it pass, that he scarcely saw it; nevertheless a burning\ndesire to capture and possess the beautiful strange creature filled\nhis breast.  He instantly ordered his attendants to form a ring round\nthe thicket, and so encircle the hind; then, gradually narrowing the\ncircle, he pressed forward till he could distinctly see the white hind\npanting in the midst.  Nearer and nearer he advanced, when, just as he\nthought to lay hold of the beautiful strange creature, it gave one\nmighty bound, leapt clean over the King's head, and fled towards the\nmountains.  Forgetful of all else, the King, setting spurs to his\nhorse, followed at full speed.  On, on he galloped, leaving his\nretinue far behind, but keeping the white hind in view, and never\ndrawing bridle, until, finding himself in a narrow ravine with no\noutlet, he reined in his steed.  Before him stood a miserable hovel,\ninto which, being tired after his long unsuccessful chase, he entered\nto ask for a drink of water.  An old woman, seated in the hut at a\nspinning-wheel, answered his request by calling to her daughter, and\nimmediately from an inner room came a maiden so lovely and charming,\nso white-skinned and golden-haired, that the King was transfixed by\nastonishment at seeing so beautiful a sight in the wretched hovel.\n\nShe held the vessel of water to the King's lips, and as he drank he\nlooked into her eyes, and then it became clear to him that the girl\nwas no other than the white hind with the golden horns and silver feet\nhe had chased so far.\n\nHer beauty bewitched him completely, and he fell on his knees, begging\nher to return with him as his bride; but she only laughed, saying\nseven Queens were quite enough even for a King to manage.  However,\nwhen he would take no refusal, but implored her to have pity on him,\nand promised her everything she could desire, she replied, 'Give me\nthe eyes of your seven wives, and then perhaps I may believe that you\nmean what you say.'\n\nThe King was so carried away by the glamour of the white hind's\nmagical beauty, that he went home at once, had the eyes of his seven\nQueens taken out, and, after throwing the poor blind creatures into a\nnoisome dungeon whence they could not escape, set off once more for\nthe hovel in the ravine, bearing with him his loathsome offering.  But\nthe white hind only laughed cruelly when she saw the fourteen eyes,\nand threading them as a necklace, flung it round her mother's neck,\nsaying, 'Wear that, little mother, as a keepsake, whilst I am away in\nthe King's palace.'\n\nThen she went back with the bewitched monarch as his bride, and he\ngave her the seven Queens' rich clothes and jewels to wear, the seven\nQueens' palace to live in, and the seven Queens' slaves to wait upon\nher; so that she really had everything even a witch could desire.\n\nNow, very soon after the seven wretched, hapless Queens were cast into\nprison, the first Queen's baby was born.  It was a handsome boy, but\nthe Queens were so desperately hungry that they killed the child at\nonce, and, dividing it into seven portions, ate it.  All except the\nyoungest Queen, who saved her portion secretly.\n\nThe next day the second Queen's baby was born, and they did the same\nwith it, and with all the babies in turn, one after the other, until\nthe seventh and youngest Queen's baby was born on the seventh day.\nBut when the other six Queens came to the young mother, and wanted to\ntake it away, saying, 'Give us your child to eat, as you have eaten\nours!' she produced the six pieces of the other babies untouched, and\nanswered, 'Not so! here are six pieces for you; eat them, and leave my\nchild alone.  You cannot complain, for you have each your fair share,\nneither more nor less.'\n\nNow, though the other Queens were very jealous that the youngest\namongst them should by forethought and self-denial have saved her\nbaby's life, they could say nothing; for, as the young mother had told\nthem, they received their full share.  And though at first they\ndisliked the handsome little boy, he soon proved so useful to them,\nthat ere long they all looked on him as their son.  Almost as soon as\nhe was born he began scraping at the mud wall of their dungeon, and in\nan incredibly short space of time had made a hole big enough for him\nto crawl through.  Through this he disappeared, returning in an hour\nor so laden with sweetmeats, which he divided equally amongst the\nseven blind Queens.\n\nAs he grew older he enlarged the hole, and slipped out two or three\ntimes every day to play with the little nobles in the town.  No one\nknew who the tiny boy was, but everybody liked him, and he was so full\nof funny tricks and antics, so merry and bright, that he was sure to\nbe rewarded by some girdle-cakes, a handful of parched grain, or some\nsweetmeats.  All these things he brought home to his seven mothers, as\nhe loved to call the seven blind Queens, who by his help lived on in\ntheir dungeon when all the world thought they had starved to death\nages before.\n\nAt last, when he was quite a big lad, he one day took his bow and\narrow, and went out to seek for game.  Coming by chance upon the\npalace where the white hind lived in wicked splendour and\nmagnificence, he saw some pigeons fluttering round the white marble\nturrets, and, taking good aim, shot one dead.  It came tumbling past\nthe very window where the white Queen was sitting; she rose to see\nwhat was the matter, and looked out.  At the first glance at the\nhandsome young lad standing there bow in hand, she knew by witchcraft\nthat it was the King's son.\n\nShe nearly died of envy and spite, determining to destroy the lad\nwithout delay; therefore, sending a servant to bring him to her\npresence, she asked him if he would sell her the pigeon he had just\nshot.\n\n'No,' replied the sturdy lad, 'the pigeon is for my seven blind\nmothers, who live in the noisome dungeon, and who would die if I did\nnot bring them food.'\n\n'Poor souls!' cried the cunning white witch; 'would you not like to\nbring them their eyes again?  Give me the pigeon, my dear, and I\nfaithfully promise to show you where to find them.'\n\nHearing this, the lad was delighted beyond measure, and gave up the\npigeon at once.  Whereupon the white Queen told him to seek her mother\nwithout delay, and ask for the eyes which she wore as a necklace.\n\n'She will not fail to give them,' said the cruel Queen, 'if you show\nher this token on which I have written what I want done.'\n\nSo saying, she gave the lad a piece of broken potsherd, with these\nwords inscribed on it--'Kill the bearer at once, and sprinkle his\nblood like water!'\n\nNow, as the son of seven mothers could not read, he took the fatal\nmessage cheerfully, and set off to find the white Queen's mother.\n\nBut while he was journeying he passed through a town, where every one\nof the inhabitants looked so sad that he could not help asking what\nwas the matter.  They told him it was because the King's only daughter\nrefused to marry; so when her father died there would be no heir to\nthe throne.  They greatly feared she must be out of her mind, for\nthough every good-looking young man in the kingdom had been shown to\nher, she declared she would only marry one who was the son of seven\nmothers, and of course no one had ever heard of such a thing.  Still\nthe King, in despair, had ordered every man who entered the city gates\nto be led before the Princess in case she might relent.  So, much to\nthe lad's impatience, for he was in an immense hurry to find his\nmothers' eyes, he was dragged into the presence-chamber.\n\nNo sooner did the Princess catch sight of him than she blushed, and,\nturning to the King, said, 'Dear father, this is my choice!'\n\nNever were such rejoicings as these few words produced.  The\ninhabitants nearly went wild with joy, but the son of seven mothers\nsaid he would not marry the Princess unless they first let him recover\nhis mothers' eyes.  Now when the beautiful bride heard his story, she\nasked to see the potsherd, for she was very learned and clever; so\nmuch so that on seeing the treacherous words, she said nothing, but\ntaking another similarly-shaped bit of potsherd, wrote on it these\nwords--'Take care of this lad, give him all he desires,' and returned\nit to the son of seven mothers, who, none the wiser, set off on his\nquest.\n\nEre long, he arrived at the hovel in the ravine, where the white\nwitch's mother, a hideous old creature, grumbled dreadfully on reading\nthe message, especially when the lad asked for the necklace of eyes.\nNevertheless she took it off, and gave it him, saying,' There are only\nthirteen of 'em now, for I ate one last week, when I was hungry.'\n\nThe lad, however, was only too glad to get any at all, so he hurried\nhome as fast as he could to his seven mothers, and gave two eyes\napiece to the six elder Queens; but to the youngest he gave one,\nsaying, 'Dearest little mother!--I will be your other eye always!'\n\nAfter this he set off to marry the Princess, as he had promised, but\nwhen passing by the white Queen's palace he again saw some pigeons on\nthe roof.  Drawing his bow, he shot one, and again it came fluttering\npast the window.  Then the white hind looked out, and lo! there was\nthe King's son alive and well.\n\nShe cried with hatred and disgust, but sending for the lad, asked him\nhow he had returned so soon, and when she heard how he had brought\nhome the thirteen eyes, and given them to the seven blind Queens, she\ncould hardly restrain her rage.  Nevertheless she pretended to be\ncharmed with his success, and told him that if he would give her this\npigeon also, she would reward him with the J\u00f4gi's wonderful\ncow, whose milk flows all day long, and makes a pond as big as a\nkingdom.  The lad, nothing loath, gave her the pigeon; whereupon, as\nbefore, she bade him go ask her mother for the cow, and gave him a\npotsherd whereon was written--'Kill this lad without fail, and\nsprinkle his blood like water!'\n\nBut on the way, the son of seven mothers looked in on the Princess,\njust to tell her how he came to be delayed, and she, after reading the\nmessage on the potsherd, gave him another in its stead; so that when\nthe lad reached the old hag's hut and asked her for the J\u00f4gi's\ncow, she could not refuse, but told the boy how to find it; and,\nbidding him of all things not to be afraid of the eighteen thousand\ndemons who kept watch and ward over the treasure, told him to be off\nbefore she became too angry at her daughter's foolishness in thus\ngiving away so many good things.\n\nThen the lad did as he had been told bravely.  He journeyed on and on\ntill he came to a milk-white pond, guarded by the eighteen thousand\ndemons.  They were really frightful to behold, but, plucking up\ncourage, he whistled a tune as he walked through them, looking neither\nto the right nor the left.  By and by he came upon the J\u00f4gi's cow,\ntall, white, and beautiful, while the J\u00f4gi himself, who was king of\nall the demons, sat milking her day and night, and the milk streamed\nfrom her udder, filling the milk-white tank.\n\nThe J\u00f4gi, seeing the lad, called out fiercely, 'What do you want\nhere?'\n\nThen the lad answered, according to the old hag's bidding, 'I want\nyour skin, for King Indra is making a new kettledrum, and says your\nskin is nice and tough.'\n\nUpon this the J\u00f4gi began to shiver and shake (for no Jinn or J\u00f4gi\ndares disobey King Indra's command), and, falling at the lad's feet,\ncried, 'If you will spare me I will give you anything I possess, even\nmy beautiful white cow!'\n\nTo this, the son of seven mothers, after a little pretended\nhesitation, agreed, saying that after all it would not be difficult to\nfind a nice tough skin like the J\u00f4gi's elsewhere; so, driving the\nwonderful cow before him, he set off homewards.  The seven Queens were\ndelighted to possess so marvellous an animal, and though they toiled\nfrom morning till night making curds and whey, besides selling milk to\nthe confectioners, they could not use half the cow gave, and became\nricher and richer day by day.\n\nSeeing them so comfortably off, the son of seven mothers started with\na light heart to marry the Princess; but when passing the white hind's\npalace he could not resist sending a bolt at some pigeons which were\ncooing on the parapet, and for the third time one fell dead just\nbeneath the window where the white Queen was sitting.  Looking out,\nshe saw the lad hale and hearty standing before her, and grew whiter\nthan ever with rage and spite.\n\n[Illustration:  The son demanding the J\u00f4gi's cow]\n\nShe sent for him to ask how he had returned so soon, and when she\nheard how kindly her mother had received him, she very nearly had a\nfit; however, she dissembled her feelings as well as she could, and,\nsmiling sweetly, said she was glad to have been able to fulfil her\npromise, and that if he would give her this third pigeon, she would do\nyet more for him than she had done before, by giving him the\nmillion-fold rice, which ripens in one night.\n\nThe lad was of course delighted at the very idea, and, giving up the\npigeon, set off on his quest, armed as before with a potsherd, on\nwhich was written, 'Do not fail this time.  Kill the lad, and sprinkle\nhis blood like water!'\n\nBut when he looked in on his Princess, just to prevent her becoming\nanxious about him, she asked to see the potsherd as usual, and\nsubstituted another, on which was written, 'Yet again give this lad\nall he requires, for his blood shall be as your blood!'\n\nNow when the old hag saw this, and heard how the lad wanted the\nmillion-fold rice which ripens in a single night, she fell into the\nmost furious rage, but being terribly afraid of her daughter, she\ncontrolled herself, and bade the boy go and find the field guarded by\neighteen millions of demons, warning him on no account to look back\nafter having plucked the tallest spike of rice, which grew in the\ncentre.\n\nSo the son of seven mothers set off, and soon came to the field where,\nguarded by eighteen millions of demons, the million-fold rice grew.\nHe walked on bravely, looking neither to the right nor left, till he\nreached the centre and plucked the tallest ear; but as he turned\nhomewards a thousand sweet voices rose behind him, crying in tenderest\naccents, 'Pluck me too! oh, please pluck me too!'  He looked back, and\nlo! there was nothing left of him but a little heap of ashes!\n\nNow as time passed by and the lad did not return, the old hag grew\nuneasy, remembering the message 'his blood shall be as your blood'; so\nshe set off to see what had happened.\n\nSoon she came to the heap of ashes, and knowing by her arts what it\nwas, she took a little water, and kneading the ashes into a paste,\nformed it into the likeness of a man; then, putting a drop of blood\nfrom her little finger into its mouth, she blew on it, and instantly\nthe son of seven mothers started up as well as ever.\n\n'Don't you disobey orders again!' grumbled the old hag, 'or next time\nI'll leave you alone.  Now be off, before I repent of my kindness!'\n\nSo the son of seven mothers returned joyfully to the seven Queens,\nwho, by the aid of the million-fold rice, soon became the richest\npeople in the kingdom.  Then they celebrated their son's marriage to\nthe clever Princess with all imaginable pomp; but the bride was so\nclever, she would not rest until she had made known her husband to his\nfather, and punished the wicked white witch.  So she made her husband\nbuild a palace exactly like the one in which the seven Queens had\nlived, and in which the white witch now dwelt in splendour.  Then,\nwhen all was prepared, she bade her husband give a grand feast to the\nKing.  Now the King had heard much of the mysterious son of seven\nmothers, and his marvellous wealth, so he gladly accepted the\ninvitation; but what was his astonishment when on entering the palace\nhe found it was a facsimile of his own in every particular!  And when\nhis host, richly attired, led him straight to the private hall, where\non royal thrones sat the seven Queens, dressed as he had last seen\nthem, he was speechless with surprise, until the Princess, coming\nforward, threw herself at his feet, and told him the whole story.\nThen the King awoke from his enchantment, and his anger rose against\nthe wicked white hind who had bewitched him so long, until he could\nnot contain himself.  So she was put to death, and her grave ploughed\nover, and after that the seven Queens returned to their own splendid\npalace, and everybody lived happily.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPARROW AND THE CROW\n\n\nA sparrow and a crow once agreed to have _khichr\u00ee_ for dinner.\nSo the Sparrow brought rice, and the Crow brought lentils, and the\nSparrow was cook, and when the _khichr\u00ee_ was ready, the Crow\nstood by to claim his share.\n\n'Who ever heard of any one sitting down to dinner so dirty as you\nare?' quoth the Sparrow scornfully.  'Your body is quite black, and\nyour head looks as if it were covered with ashes.  For goodness\ngracious sake, go and wash in the Pond first.'\n\nThe Crow, though a little huffy at being called dirty, deemed it best\nto comply, for he knew what a determined little person the Sparrow\nwas; so he went to the Pond, and said--\n\n  'Your name, sir, is Pond,\n    But my name is Crow.\n  Please give me some water,\n    For if you do so\n  I can wash beak and feet\n    And the nice _khichr\u00ee_ eat;\n  Though I really don't know\n    What the Sparrow can mean,\n  For I'm sure, as Crows go,\n    I'm remarkably clean!'\n\n[Illustration:  The crow and those he meets]\n\nBut the Pond said, 'Certainly I will give you water; but first you\nmust go to the Deer, and beg him to lend you a horn.  Then with it you\ncan dig a nice little rill for the water to flow in clean and fresh.'\n\nSo the Crow flew to the Deer, and said--\n\n  'Your name, sir, is Deer,\n    But my name is Crow.\n  Oh, give me a horn, please,\n    For if you do so\n  I can dig a clean rill\n  For the water to fill;\n  Then I'll wash beak and feet\n  And the nice _khichr\u00ee_ eat;\n  Though I really don't know\n    What the Sparrow can mean,\n  For I'm sure, as Crows go,\n    I'm remarkably clean!'\n\nBut the Deer said, 'Certainly I will give you a horn; but first you\nmust go to the Cow, and ask her to give you some milk for me to\ndrink.  Then I shall grow fat, and not mind the pain of breaking my\nhorn.'\n\nSo the Crow flew off to the Cow, and said--\n\n  'Your name, ma'am, is Cow,\n    But my name is Crow.\n  Oh, give me some milk, please,\n    For if you do so\n  The pain will be borne,\n  Deer will give me his horn,\n  And I'll dig a clean rill\n  For the water to fill;\n  Then I'll wash beak and feet\n  And the nice _khichr\u00ee_ eat;\n  Though I really don't know\n    What the Sparrow can mean,\n  For I'm sure, as Crows go,\n    I'm remarkably clean!'\n\nBut the Cow said, 'Certainly I will give you milk, only first you must\nbring me some Grass; for who ever heard of a cow giving milk without\ngrass?'\n\nSo the Crow flew to some Grass, and said--\n\n  'Your name, sir, is Grass,\n    But my name is Crow.\n  Oh, give me some blades, please,\n    For if you do so\n  Madam Cow will give milk\n  To the Deer sleek as silk;\n  The pain will be borne,\n  He will give me his horn,\n  And I'll dig a clean rill\n  For the water to fill;\n  Then I'll wash beak and feet\n  And the nice _khichr\u00ee_ eat;\n  Though I really don't know\n    What the Sparrow can mean,\n  For I'm sure, as Crows go,\n    I'm remarkably clean!'\n\nBut the Grass said, 'Certainly I will give you Grass; but first you\nmust go to the Blacksmith, and ask him to make you a sickle.  Then you\ncan cut me, for who ever heard of Grass cutting itself?'\n\nSo the Crow went to the Blacksmith, and said--\n\n  'Your name, sir, is Smith,\n    But my name is Crow.\n  Please give me a sickle,\n    For if you do so\n  The Grass I can mow\n  As food for the Cow;\n  Madam Cow will give milk\n  To the Deer sleek as silk;\n  The pain will be borne,\n  He will give me his horn,\n  And I'll dig a clean rill\n  For the water to fill;\n  Then I'll wash beak and feet\n  And the nice _khichr\u00ee_ eat;\n  Though I really don't know\n    What the Sparrow can mean,\n  For I'm sure, as Crows go,\n    I'm remarkably clean!'\n\n'With pleasure,' said the Blacksmith, 'if you will light the fire and\nblow the bellows.'\n\nSo the Crow began to light the fire, and blow the bellows, but in so\ndoing he fell right in--to--the--very--middle--of--the--_fire_,\nand was burnt!\n\nSo that was the end of him, and the Sparrow ate all the\n_khichr\u00ee_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TIGER, THE BRAHM\u00c2N, AND THE JACKAL\n\n\nOnce upon a time a tiger was caught in a trap.  He tried in vain to\nget out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when\nhe failed.\n\nBy chance a poor Br\u00e2hman came by.  'Let me out of this cage, O pious\none!' cried the tiger.\n\n'Nay, my friend,' replied the Br\u00e2hman mildly, 'you would probably eat\nme if I did.'\n\n'Not at all!' swore the tiger with many oaths; 'on the contrary, I\nshould be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!'\n\nNow when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious\nBr\u00e2hman's heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of\nthe cage.  Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried,\n'What a fool you are!  What is to prevent my eating you now, for after\nbeing cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!'\n\nIn vain the Br\u00e2hman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a\npromise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to\nquestion as to the justice of the tiger's action.\n\nSo the Br\u00e2hman first asked a _p\u00eepal_ tree what it thought of the\nmatter, but the _p\u00eepal_ tree replied coldly, 'What have you to\ncomplain about?  Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who\npasses by, and don't they in return tear down my blanches to feed\ntheir cattle?  Don't whimper--be a man!'\n\nThen the Br\u00e2hman, sad at heart, went farther afield till he saw a\nbuffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it\nanswered, 'You are a fool to expect gratitude!  Look at me!  While I\ngave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry\nthey yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!'\n\n[Illustration:  Buffalo turning the well-wheel]\n\nThe Br\u00e2hman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion.\n\n'My dear sir,' said the road, 'how foolish you are to expect anything\nelse!  Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great\nand small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the\nashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!'\n\nOn this the Br\u00e2hman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a\njackal, who called out, 'Why, what's the matter, Mr. Br\u00e2hman?  You\nlook as miserable as a fish out of water!'\n\nThen the Br\u00e2hman told him all that had occurred.  'How very\nconfusing!' said the jackal, when the recital was ended; 'would you\nmind telling me over again? for everything seems so mixed up!'\n\nThe Br\u00e2hman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a\ndistracted sort of way, and still could not understand.\n\n'It's very odd,' said he sadly, 'but it all seems to go in at one ear\nand out at the other!  I will go to the place where it all happened,\nand then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.'\n\nSo they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the\nBr\u00e2hman, and sharpening his teeth and claws.\n\n'You've been away a long time!' growled the savage beast, 'but now let\nus begin our dinner.'\n\n'_Our_ dinner!' thought the wretched Br\u00e2hman, as his knees\nknocked together with fright; 'what a remarkably delicate way of\nputting it!'\n\n'Give me five minutes, my lord!' he pleaded, 'in order that I may\nexplain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.'\n\nThe tiger consented, and the Br\u00e2hman began the whole story over again,\nnot missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible.\n\n'Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!' cried the jackal, wringing his\npaws.  'Let me see! how did it all begin?  You were in the cage, and\nthe tiger came walking by----'\n\n'Pooh!' interrupted the tiger,' what a fool you are! _I_ was in\nthe cage.'\n\n'Of course!' cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright;\n'yes!  I was in the cage--no, I wasn't--dear! dear! where are my\nwits?  Let me see--the tiger was in the Br\u00e2hman, and the cage came\nwalking by--no, that's not it either!  Well, don't mind me, but begin\nyour dinner, for I shall never understand!'\n\n'Yes, you shall!' returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal's\nstupidity; 'I'll _make_ you understand!  Look here--I am the\ntiger--'\n\n'Yes, my lord!'\n\n'And that is the Br\u00e2hman--'\n\n'Yes, my lord!'\n\n'And that is the cage--'\n\n'Yes, my lord!'\n\n'And I was in the cage--do you understand?'\n\n'Yes--no--Please, my lord--'\n\n'Well?' cried the tiger, impatiently.\n\n'Please, my lord!--how did you get in?'\n\n'How!--why, in the usual way, of course!'\n\n'Oh dear me!--my head is beginning to whirl again!  Please don't be\nangry, my lord, but what is the usual way?'\n\nAt this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried,\n'This way!  Now do you understand how it was?'\n\n'Perfectly!' grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door; 'and\nif you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they\nwere!'\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING OF THE CROCODILES\n\n\n[Illustration:  Farmer begging the crocodiles not to hurt him]\n\nOnce upon a time a farmer went out to look at his fields by the side\nof the river, and found to his dismay that all his young green wheat\nhad been trodden down, and nearly destroyed, by a number of\ncrocodiles, which were lying lazily amid the crops like great logs of\nwood.  He flew into a great rage, bidding them go back to the water,\nbut they only laughed at him.\n\nEvery day the same thing occurred,--every day the farmer found the\ncrocodiles lying in his young wheat, until one morning he completely\nlost his temper, and, when they refused to budge, began throwing\nstones at them.  At this they rushed on him fiercely, and he, quaking\nwith fear, fell on his knees, begging them not to hurt him.\n\n'We will hurt neither you nor your young wheat,' said the biggest\ncrocodile, 'if you will give us your daughter in marriage; but if not,\nwe will eat you for throwing stones at us.'\n\nThe farmer, thinking of nothing but saving his own life, promised what\nthe crocodiles required of him; but when, on his return home, he told\nhis wife what he had done, she was very much vexed, for their daughter\nwas as beautiful as the moon, and her betrothal into a very rich\nfamily had already taken place.  So his wife persuaded the farmer to\ndisregard the promise made to the crocodiles, and proceed with his\ndaughter's marriage as if nothing had happened; but when the\nwedding-day drew near the bridegroom died, and there was an end to\nthat business.  The farmer's daughter, however, was so beautiful that\nshe was very soon asked in marriage again, but this time her suitor\nfell sick of a lingering illness; in short, so many misfortunes\noccurred to all concerned, that at last even the farmer's wife\nacknowledged the crocodiles must have something to do with the bad\nluck.  By her advice the farmer went down to the river bank to try to\ninduce the crocodiles to release him from his promise, but they would\nhear of no excuse, threatening fearful punishments if the agreement\nwere not fulfilled at once.\n\nSo the farmer returned home to his wife very sorrowful; she, however,\nwas determined to resist to the uttermost, and refused to give up her\ndaughter.\n\nThe very next day the poor girl fell down and broke her leg.  Then the\nmother said, 'These demons of crocodiles will certainly kill us\nall!--better to marry our daughter to a strange house than see her\ndie.'\n\nAccordingly, the farmer went down to the river and informed the\ncrocodiles they might send the bridal procession to fetch the bride as\nsoon as they chose.\n\nThe next day a number of female crocodiles came to the bride's house\nwith trays full of beautiful clothes, and _henna_ for staining\nthe bride's hands.  They behaved with the utmost politeness, and\ncarried out all the proper ceremonies with the greatest precision.\nNevertheless the beautiful bride wept, saying, 'Oh, mother! are you\nmarrying me into the river?  I shall be drowned!'\n\nIn due course the bridal procession arrived, and all the village was\nwonderstruck at the magnificence of the arrangements.  Never was there\nsuch a retinue of crocodiles, some playing instruments of music,\nothers bearing trays upon trays full of sweetmeats, garments, and\njewels, and all dressed in the richest of stuffs.  In the middle, a\nperfect blaze of gold and gems, sat the King of the Crocodiles.\n\nThe sight of so much magnificence somewhat comforted the beautiful\nbride, nevertheless she wept bitterly when she was put into the\ngorgeous bride's palanquin and borne off to the river bank.  Arrived\nat the edge of the stream, the crocodiles dragged the poor girl out,\nand forced her into the water, despite her struggles, for, thinking\nshe was going to be drowned, she screamed with terror; but lo and\nbehold! no sooner had her feet touched the water than it divided\nbefore her, and, rising up on either side, showed a path leading to\nthe bottom of the river, down which the bridal party disappeared,\nleaving the bride's father, who had accompanied her so far, upon the\nbank, very much astonished at the marvellous sight.\n\nSome months passed by without further news of the crocodiles.  The\nfarmer's wife wept because she had lost her daughter, declaring that\nthe girl was really drowned, and her husband's fine story about the\nstream dividing was a mere invention.\n\nNow when the King of the Crocodiles was on the point of leaving with\nhis bride, he had given a piece of brick to her father, with these\nwords:  'If ever you want to see your daughter, go down to the river,\nthrow this brick as far as you can into the stream, and you will see\nwhat you will see!'\n\nRemembering this, the farmer said to his wife, 'Since you are so\ndistressed, I will go myself and see if my daughter be alive or dead.'\n\nThen he went to the river bank, taking the brick, and threw it ever so\nfar into the stream.  Immediately the waters rolled back from before\nhis feet, leaving a dry path to the bottom of the river.  It looked so\ninviting, spread with clean sand, and bordered by flowers, that the\nfarmer hastened along it without the least hesitation, until he came\nto a magnificent palace, with a golden roof, and shining, glittering\ndiamond walls.  Lofty trees and gay gardens surrounded it, and a\nsentry paced up and down before the gateway.\n\n'Whose palace is this?' asked the farmer of the sentry, who replied\nthat it belonged to the King of the Crocodiles.\n\n'My daughter has at least a splendid house to live in!' thought the\nfarmer; 'I only wish her husband were half as handsome!'\n\nThen, turning to the sentry, he asked if his daughter were within.\n\n'Your daughter!' returned the sentry, 'what should she do here?'\n\n'She married the King of the Crocodiles, and I want to see her.'\n\nAt this the sentry burst out laughing.  'A likely story, indeed!' he\ncried; 'what! _my_ master married to _your_ daughter!  Ha!\nha! ha!'\n\nNow the farmer's daughter was sitting beside an open window in the\npalace, waiting for her husband to return from hunting.  She was as\nhappy as the day was long, for you must know that in his own\nriver-kingdom the King of the Crocodiles was the handsomest young\nPrince anybody ever set eyes upon; it was only when he went on shore\nthat he assumed the form of a crocodile.  So what with her magnificent\npalace and splendid young Prince, the farmer's daughter had been too\nhappy even to think of her old home; but now, hearing a strange voice\nspeaking to the sentry, her memory awakened, and she recognised her\nfather's tones.  Looking out, she saw him there, standing in his poor\nclothes, in the glittering court; she longed to run and fling her arms\nround his neck, but dared not disobey her husband, who had forbidden\nher to go out of, or to let any one into the palace without his\npermission.  So all she could do was to lean out of the window, and\ncall to him, saying, 'Oh, dearest father!  I am here!  Only wait till\nmy husband, the King of the Crocodiles, returns, and I will ask him to\nlet you in.  I dare not without his leave.'\n\nThe father, though overjoyed to find his daughter alive, did not\nwonder she was afraid of her terrible husband, so he waited patiently.\n\nIn a short time a troop of horsemen entered the court.  Every man was\ndressed from head to foot in armour made of glittering silver plates,\nbut in the centre of all rode a Prince clad in gold--bright burnished\ngold, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet,--the\nhandsomest, most gallant young Prince that ever was seen.\n\nThen the poor farmer fell at the gold-clad horseman's feet, and cried,\n'O King! cherish me! for I am a poor man whose daughter was carried\noff by the dreadful King of the Crocodiles!'\n\nThen the gold-clad horseman smiled, saying, '_I_ am the King of\nthe Crocodiles!  Your daughter is a good, obedient wife, and will be\nvery glad to see you.'\n\nAfter this there were great rejoicings and merrymakings, but when a\nfew days had passed away in feasting, the farmer became restless, and\nbegged to be allowed to take his daughter home with him for a short\nvisit, in order to convince his wife the girl was well and happy.  But\nthe Crocodile King refused, saying, 'Not so! but if you like I will\ngive you a house and land here; then you can dwell with us.'\n\nThe farmer said he must first ask his wife, and returned home, taking\nseveral bricks with him, to throw into the river and make the stream\ndivide.\n\nHis wife would not at first agree to live in the Crocodile Kingdom,\nbut she consented to go there on a visit, and afterwards became so\nfond of the beautiful river country that she was constantly going to\nsee her daughter the Queen; till at length the old couple never\nreturned to shore, but lived altogether in Crocodile Kingdom with\ntheir son-in-law, the King of the Crocodiles.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE ANKLEBONE\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a little boy who lost his parents; so he\nwent to live with his Auntie, and she set him to herd sheep.  All day\nlong the little fellow wandered barefoot through the pathless plain,\ntending his flock, and playing his tiny shepherd's pipe from morn till\neve.\n\nBut one day came a great big wolf, and looked hungrily at the small\nshepherd and his fat sheep, saying, 'Little boy! shall I eat you, or\nyour sheep?'  Then the little boy answered politely, 'I don't know,\nMr. Wolf; I must ask my Auntie.'\n\nSo all day long he piped away on his tiny pipe, and in the evening,\nwhen he brought the flock home, he went to his Auntie and said,\n'Auntie dear, a great big wolf asked me to-day if he should eat me, or\nyour sheep.  Which shall it be?'\n\nThen his Auntie looked at the wee little shepherd, and at the fat\nflock, and said sharply, 'Which shall it be?--why, _you_, of\ncourse!'\n\nSo next morning the little boy drove his flock out into the pathless\nplain, and blew away cheerfully on his shepherd's pipe until the great\nbig wolf appeared.  Then he laid aside his pipe, and, going up to the\nsavage beast, said, 'Oh, if you please, Mr. Wolf, I asked my Auntie,\nand she says you are to eat _me_.'\n\nNow the wolf, savage as wolves always are, could not help having just\na spark of pity for the tiny barefoot shepherd who played his pipe so\nsweetly, therefore he said kindly, 'Could I do anything for you,\nlittle boy, after I've eaten you?'\n\n'Thank you!' returned the tiny shepherd.  'If you would be so kind,\nafter you've picked the bones, as to thread my anklebone on a string\nand hang it on the tree that weeps over the pond yonder, I shall be\nmuch obliged.'\n\nSo the wolf ate the little shepherd, picked the bones, and afterwards\nhung the anklebone by a string to the branches of the tree, where it\ndanced and swung in the sunlight.\n\nNow, one day, three robbers, who had just robbed a palace, happening\nto pass that way, sat down under the tree and began to divide the\nspoil.  Just as they had arranged all the golden dishes and precious\njewels and costly stuffs into three heaps, a jackal howled.  Now you\nmust know that thieves always use the jackal's cry as a note of\nwarning, so that when at the very same moment Little Anklebone's\nthread snapped, and he fell plump on the head of the chief robber, the\nman imagined some one had thrown a pebble at him, and, shouting 'Run!\nrun!--we are discovered!' he bolted away as hard as he could, followed\nby his companions, leaving all the treasure behind them.\n\n'Now,' said Little Anklebone to himself, 'I shall lead a fine life!'\n\nSo he gathered the treasure together, and sat under the tree that\ndrooped over the pond, and played so sweetly on a new shepherd's pipe,\nthat all the beasts of the forest, and the birds of the air, and the\nfishes of the pond came to listen to him.  Then Little Anklebone put\nmarble basins round the pond for the animals to drink out of, and in\nthe evening the does, and the tigresses, and the she-wolves gathered\nround him to be milked, and when he had drunk his fill he milked the\nrest into the pond, till at last it became a pond of milk.  And Little\nAnklebone sat by the milken pond and piped away on his shepherd's\npipe.\n\nNow, one day, an old woman, passing by with her jar for water, heard\nthe sweet strains of Little Anklebone's pipe, and following the sound,\ncame upon the pond of milk, and saw the animals, and the birds, and\nthe fishes, listening to the music.  She was wonderstruck, especially\nwhen Little Anklebone, from his seat under the tree, called out, 'Fill\nyour jar, mother!  All drink who come hither!'\n\nThen the old woman filled her jar with milk, and went on her way\nrejoicing at her good fortune.  But as she journeyed she met with the\nKing of that country, who, having been a-hunting, had lost his way in\nthe pathless plain.\n\n'Give me a drink of water, good mother,' he cried, seeing the jar; 'I\nam half dead with thirst!'\n\n'It is milk, my son,' replied the old woman; 'I got it yonder from a\nmilken pond.'  Then she told the King of the wonders she had seen, so\nthat he resolved to have a peep at them himself.  And when he saw the\nmilken pond, and all the animals and birds and fishes gathered round,\nwhile Little Anklebone played ever so sweetly on his shepherd's pipe,\nhe said, 'I must have the tiny piper, if I die for it!'\n\n[Illustration:  Old woman finding the pond of milk]\n\nNo sooner did Little Anklebone hear these words than he set off at a\nrun, and the King after him.  Never was there such a chase before or\nsince, for Little Anklebone hid himself amid the thickest briars and\nthorns, and the King was so determined to have the tiny piper, that he\ndid not care for scratches.  At last the King was successful, but no\nsooner did he take hold of Little Anklebone than the clouds above\nbegan to thunder and lighten horribly, and from below came the lowing\nof many does, and louder than all came the voice of the little piper\nhimself singing these words--\n\n  'O clouds! why should you storm and flare?\n    Poor Anklebone is forced to roam.\n   O does! why wait the milker's care?\n     Poor Anklebone must leave his home.'\n\nAnd he sang so piercingly sweet that pity filled the King's heart,\nespecially when he saw it was nothing but a bone after all.  So he let\nit go again, and the little piper went back to his seat under the tree\nby the pond; and there he sits still, and plays his shepherd's pipe,\nwhile all the beasts of the forest, and birds of the air, and fishes\nof the pond, gather round and listen to his music.  And sometimes,\npeople wandering through the pathless plain hear the pipe, and then\nthey say, 'That is Little Anklebone, who was eaten by a wolf ages\nago!'*\n\n\n\n\nTHE CLOSE ALLIANCE\n\nA TALE OF WOE\n\n\nOne day a farmer went with his bullocks to plough his field.  He had\njust turned the first furrow, when a tiger walked up to him and said,\n'Peace be with you, friend!  How are you this fine morning?'\n\n'The same to you, my lord, and I am pretty well, thank you!' returned\nthe farmer, quaking with fear, but thinking it wisest to be polite.\n\n'I am glad to hear it,' replied the tiger cheerfully, 'because\nProvidence has sent me to eat your two bullocks.  You are a\nGod-fearing man, I know, so make haste and unyoke them.'\n\n'My friend, are you sure you are not making a mistake?' asked the\nfarmer, whose courage had returned now that he knew it was merely a\nquestion of gobbling up bullocks; 'because Providence sent me to\nplough this field, and, in order to plough, one must have oxen.  Had\nyou not better go and make further inquiries?'\n\n'There is no occasion for delay, and I should be sorry to keep you\nwaiting,' returned the tiger.  'If you'll unyoke the bullocks I'll be\nready in a moment.'  With that the savage creature fell to sharpening\nhis teeth and claws in a very significant manner.\n\nBut the farmer begged and prayed that his oxen might not be eaten, and\npromised that if the tiger would spare them, he would give in exchange\na fine fat young milch cow, which his wife had tied up in the yard at\nhome.\n\n[Illustration:  Farmer pleading with the tiger]\n\nTo this the tiger agreed, and, taking the oxen with him, the farmer\nwent sadly homewards.  Seeing him return so early from the fields, his\nwife, who was a stirring, busy woman, called out, 'What! lazybones!--back\nalready, and _my_ work just beginning!'\n\nThen the farmer explained how he had met the tiger, and how to save\nthe bullocks he had promised the milch cow in exchange.  At this the\nwife began to cry, saying, 'A likely story, indeed!--saving your\nstupid old bullocks at the expense of my beautiful cow!  Where will\nthe children get milk? and how can I cook my pottage and collops\nwithout butter?'\n\n'All very fine, wife,' retorted the farmer, 'but how can we make bread\nwithout corn? and how can you have corn without bullocks to plough the\nfields?  Pottage and collops are very nice, but it is better to do\nwithout milk and butter than without bread, so make haste and untie\nthe cow.'\n\n'You great gaby!' wept the wife, 'if you had an ounce of sense in your\nbrain you'd think of some plan to get out of the scrape!'\n\n'Think yourself!' cried the husband, in a rage.\n\n'Very well!' returned the wife; 'but if I do the thinking you must\nobey orders; I can't do both.  Go back to the tiger, and tell him the\ncow wouldn't come along with you, but that your wife is bringing it'\n\nThe farmer, who was a great coward, didn't half like the idea of going\nback empty-handed to the tiger, but as he could think of no other plan\nhe did as he was bid, and found the beast still sharpening his teeth\nand claws for very hunger; and when he heard he had to wait still\nlonger for his dinner, he began to prowl about, and lash his tail, and\ncurl his whiskers, in a most terrible manner, causing the poor\nfarmer's knees to knock together with terror.\n\nNow, when the farmer had left the house, his wife went to the stable\nand saddled the pony; then she put on her husband's best clothes, tied\nthe turban very high, so as to make her look as tall as possible,\nbestrode the pony, and set off to the field where the tiger was.\n\nShe rode along, swaggering and blustering, till she came to where the\nlane turned into the field, and then she called out, as bold as brass,\n'Now, please the powers!  I may find a tiger in this place; for I\nhaven't tasted tiger's meat since yesterday, when, as luck would have\nit, I ate three for breakfast.'\n\n[Illustration:  Farmer's wife on a horse]\n\nHearing these words, and seeing the speaker ride boldly at him, the\ntiger became so alarmed that he turned tail, and bolted into the\nforest, going away at such a headlong pace that he nearly overturned\nhis own jackal; for tigers always have a jackal of their own, who, as\nit were, waits at table and clears away the bones.\n\n'My lord! my lord!' cried the jackal, 'whither away so fast?'\n\n'Run! run!' panted the tiger; 'there's the very devil of a horseman in\nyonder fields, who thinks nothing of eating three tigers for\nbreakfast!'\n\nAt this the jackal sniggered in his sleeve.  'My dear lord,' said he,\n'the sun has dazzled your eyes!  That was no horseman, but only the\nfarmer's wife dressed up as a man!'\n\n'Are you quite sure?' asked the tiger, pausing.\n\n'Quite sure, my lord,' repeated the jackal; 'and if your lordship's\neyes had not been dazzled by--ahem!--the sun, your lordship would\nhave seen her pigtail hanging down behind.'\n\n'But you may be mistaken!' persisted the cowardly tiger; 'it was the\nvery devil of a horseman to look at!'\n\n'Who's afraid?' replied the brave jackal.  'Come! don't give up your\ndinner because of a woman!'\n\n'But you may be bribed to betray me!' argued the tiger, who, like all\ncowards, was suspicious.\n\n'Let us go together, then!' returned the gallant jackal.\n\n'Nay! but you may take me there and then run away!' insisted the tiger\ncunningly.\n\n'In that case, let us tie our tails together, and then I can't!'  The\njackal, you see, was determined not to be done out of his bones.\n\nTo this the tiger agreed, and having tied their tails together in a\nreef-knot, the pair set off arm-in-arm.\n\nNow the farmer and his wife had remained in the field, laughing over\nthe trick she had played on the tiger, when, lo and behold! what\nshould they see but the gallant pair coming back ever so bravely, with\ntheir tails tied together.\n\n'Run!' cried the farmer; 'we are lost! we are lost!'\n\n'Nothing of the kind, you great gaby!' answered his wife coolly, 'if\nyou will only stop that noise and be quiet.  I can't hear myself\nspeak!'\n\nThen she waited till the pair were within hail, when she called out\npolitely, 'How very kind of you, dear Mr. Jackal, to bring me such a\nnice fat tiger!  I shan't be a moment finishing my share of him, and\nthen you can have the bones.'\n\nAt these words the tiger became wild with fright, and, quite\nforgetting the jackal, and that reef-knot in their tails, he bolted\naway full tilt, dragging the jackal behind him.  Bumpety, bump, bump,\nover the stones!--crash, scratch, patch, through the briars!\n\nIn vain the poor jackal howled and shrieked to the tiger to stop,--the\nnoise behind him only frightened the coward more; and away he went,\nhelter-skelter, hurry-scurry, over hill and dale, till he was\n_nearly_ dead with fatigue, and the jackal was _quite_ dead\nfrom bumps and bruises.\n\n_Moral_--Don't tie your tail to a coward's.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO BROTHERS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King who had two young sons; they were\ngood boys, and sat in school learning all that kings' sons ought to\nknow.  But while they were still learning, the Queen their mother\ndied, and their father the King shortly after married again.  Of\ncourse the new wife was jealous of the two young Princes, and, as\nstepmothers usually do, she soon began to ill-use the poor boys.\nFirst she gave them barley-meal instead of wheaten cakes to eat, and\nthen even these were made without salt.  After a time, the meal of\nwhich the cakes were made was sour and full of weevils; so matters\nwent on from bad to worse, until at last she took to beating the poor\nyoung Princes, and when they cried, she complained to the King of\ntheir disobedience and peevishness, so that he too was angry, and beat\nthem again.\n\nAt length the lads agreed it was high time to seek some remedy.\n\n'Let us go into the world,' said the younger, 'and earn our own\nliving.'\n\n'Yes,' cried the elder, 'let us go at once, and never again eat bread\nunder this roof.'\n\n'Not so, brother,' replied the younger, who was wise beyond his years,\n'don't you remember the saying--\n\n  ''With empty stomachs don't venture away,\n    Be it December, or be it May'?'\n\nSo they ate their bread, bad as it was, and afterwards, both mounting\non one pony, they set out to seek their fortune.\n\nHaving journeyed for some time through a barren country, they\ndismounted under a large tree, and sat down to rest.  By chance a\nstarling and a parrot, flying past, settled on the branches of the\ntree, and began to dispute as to who should have the best place.\n\n'I never heard of such impertinence!' cried the starling, pushing and\nstriving to get to the topmost branch; 'why, I am so important a bird,\nthat if any man eats me he will without doubt become Prime Minister!'\n\n'Make room for your betters!' returned the parrot, hustling the\nstarling away; 'why, if any man eats _me_ he will without doubt\nbecome a King!'\n\nHearing these words, the brothers instantly drew out their crossbows,\nand aiming at the same time, both the birds fell dead at the selfsame\nmoment.  Now these two brothers were so fond of each other that\nneither would allow he had shot the parrot, for each wanted the other\nto be the King, and even when the birds had been cooked and were ready\nto eat, the two lads were still disputing over the matter.  But at\nlast the younger said, 'Dearest brother, we are only wasting time.\nYou are the elder, and must take your right, since it was your fate to\nbe born first.'\n\nSo the elder Prince ate the parrot, and the younger Prince ate the\nstarling; then they mounted their pony and rode away.  They had gone\nbut a little way, however, when the elder brother missed his whip, and\nthinking he had perhaps left it under the tree, proposed to go back\nand find it.\n\n'Not so,' said the younger Prince, 'you are King, I am only Minister;\ntherefore it is my place to go and fetch the whip.'\n\n'Be it as you wish,' replied the elder, 'only take the pony, which\nwill enable you to return quicker.  In the meantime I will go on foot\nto yonder town.'\n\nThe younger Prince accordingly rode back to the tree, but the\nSnake-demon, to whom it belonged, had returned during the interval,\nand no sooner did the poor Prince set foot within its shade than the\nhorrid serpent flew at him and killed him.\n\nMeanwhile, the elder Prince, loitering along the road, arrived at last\nat the town, which he found in a state of great commotion.  The King\nhad recently died, and though all the inhabitants had marched past the\nsacred elephant in file, the animal had not chosen to elect any one of\nthem to the vacant throne by kneeling down and saluting the favoured\nindividual as he passed by, for in this manner Kings were elected in\nthat country.  Therefore the people were in great consternation, and\norders had been issued that every stranger entering the gates of the\ncity was forthwith to be led before the sacred elephant.  No sooner,\ntherefore, had the elder Prince set foot in the town than he was\ndragged unceremoniously--for there had been many disappointments--before\nthe over-particular animal.  This time, however, it had found\nwhat it wanted, for the very instant it caught sight of the Prince it\nwent down on its knees and began in a great hurry to salute him with\nits trunk.  So the Prince was immediately elected to the throne, amid\ngeneral rejoicings.\n\n[Illustration:  The sacred elephant bowing before the prince]\n\nAll this time the younger Prince lay dead under the tree, so that the\nKing his brother, after waiting and searching for him in vain, gave\nhim up for lost, and appointed another Prime Minister.\n\nBut it so happened that a magician and his wife, who, being wise folk,\nwere not afraid of the serpents which dwelt in the tree, came to draw\nwater at the spring which flowed from the roots; and when the\nmagician's wife saw the dead Prince lying there, so handsome and\nyoung, she thought she had never seen anything so beautiful before,\nand, taking pity on him, said to her husband, 'You are for ever\ntalking of your wisdom and power:  prove it by bringing this dead lad\nto life!'\n\nAt first the magician refused, but when his wife began to jeer at him,\nsaying his vaunted power was all pretence, he replied angrily, 'Very\nwell; you shall see that although I myself have no power to bring the\ndead back to life, I can force others to do the deed.'\n\nWhereupon he bade his wife fill her brass drinking bowl at the spring,\nwhen, lo and behold! every drop of the water flowed into the little\nvessel, and the fountain was dry!\n\n'Now,' said the magician, 'come away home, and you shall see what you\nwill see.'\n\nWhen the serpents found their spring had dried up, they were terribly\nput out, for serpents are thirsty creatures, and love water.  They\nbore the drought for three days, but after that they went in a body to\nthe magician, and told him they would do whatever he desired if he\nwould only restore the water of their spring.  This he promised to do,\nif they in their turn restored the dead Prince to life; and when they\ngladly performed this task, the magician emptied the brass bowl, all\nthe water flowed back into the spring, and the serpents drank and were\nhappy.\n\nThe young Prince, on coming back to life, fancied he had awakened from\nsleep, and fearing lest his brother should be vexed at his delay,\nseized the whip, mounted the pony--which all this time had been\nquietly grazing beside its master--and rode off.  But in his hurry and\nconfusion he took the wrong road, and so arrived at last at a\ndifferent city from the one wherein his brother was king.\n\nIt was growing late in the evening, and having no money in his pocket,\nthe young Prince was at a loss how to procure anything to eat; but\nseeing a good-natured-looking old woman herding goats, he said to her,\n'Mother, if you will give me something to eat you may herd this pony\nof mine also, for it will be yours.'\n\nTo this the old woman agreed, and the Prince went to live in her\nhouse, finding her very kind and good-natured.  But in the course of a\nday or two he noticed that his hostess looked very sad, so he asked\nher what was the matter.\n\n'The matter is this, my son,' replied the old woman, tearfully; 'in\nthis kingdom there lives an ogre, which every day devours a young man,\na goat, and a wheaten cake--in consideration of receiving which meal\npunctually, he leaves the other inhabitants in peace.  Therefore every\nday this meal has to be provided, and it falls to the lot of every\ninhabitant in turn to prepare it, under pain of death.  It is my turn\nto-day.  The cake I can make, the goat I have, but where is the young\nman?'\n\n'Why does not some one kill the ogre?' asked the brave young Prince.\n\n'Many have tried, but all have failed, though the King has gone so far\nas to promise his daughter in marriage, and half his kingdom, to a\nsuccessful champion.  And now it is my turn, and I must die, for where\nshall I find a young man?' said the poor old woman, weeping bitterly.\n\n'Don't cry, Goody,' returned the good-natured Prince; 'you have been\nvery kind to me, and I will do my best for you by making part of the\nogre's dinner.'\n\nAnd though the old woman at first refused flatly to allow so handsome\na young man to sacrifice himself, he laughed at her fears, and cheered\nher up so that she gave in.\n\n'Only one thing I ask of you, Goody,' quoth the Prince; 'make the\nwheaten cake as big as you can, and give me the finest and fattest\ngoat in your flock.'\n\nThis she promised to do, and when everything was prepared, the Prince,\nleading the goat and carrying the cake, went to the tree where the\nogre came every evening to receive and devour his accustomed meal.\nHaving tied the goat to the tree, and laid the cake on the ground, the\nPrince stepped outside the trench that was dug round the ogre's\ndining-room, and waited.  Presently the ogre, a very frightful monster\nindeed, appeared.  Now he generally ate the young man first, for as a\nrule the cakes and goats brought to him were not appetising; but this\nevening, seeing the biggest cake and the fattest goat he ever set eyes\nupon, he just went straight at them and began to gobble them up.  As\nhe was finishing the last mouthful, and was looking about for his\nman's flesh, the Prince sprang at him, sword in hand.  Then ensued a\nterrible contest.  The ogre fought like an ogre, but in consequence of\nhaving eaten the cake and the goat, one the biggest and the other the\nfattest that ever was seen, he was not nearly so active as usual, and\nafter a tremendous battle the brave Prince was victorious, and laid\nhis enemy at his feet.  Rejoicing at his success, the young man cut\noff the ogre's head, tied it up in a handkerchief as a trophy, and\nthen, being quite wearied out by the combat, lay down to rest and fell\nfast asleep.\n\nNow, every morning, a scavenger came to the ogre's dining-room to\nclear away the remains of the last night's feast, for the ogre was\nmighty fastidious, and could not bear the smell of old bones; and this\nparticular morning, when the scavenger saw only half the quantity of\nbones, he was much astonished, and beginning to search for more, found\nthe young Prince hard by, fast asleep, with the ogre's head by his\nside.\n\n'Ho! ho!' thought the scavenger, 'this is a fine chance for me!'\n\nSo, lifting the Prince, who, being dead tired, did not awake, he put\nhim gently into a clay-pit close by, and covered him up with clay.\nThen he took the ogre's head, and going to the King, claimed half the\nkingdom and the Princess in marriage, as his reward for slaying the\nogre.\n\nAlthough the King had his suspicions that all was not fair, he was\nobliged to fulfil his promise as far as giving up part of his kingdom\nwas concerned, but for the present he managed to evade the dreadful\nnecessity of giving his daughter in marriage to a scavenger, by the\nexcuse that the Princess was desirous of a year's delay.  So the\nScavenger-king reigned over half the kingdom, and made great\npreparations for his future marriage.\n\nMeanwhile, some potters coming to get clay from their pit were\nmightily astonished to find a handsome young man, insensible, but\nstill breathing, hidden away under the clay.  Taking him home, they\nhanded him over to the care of their women, who soon brought him\nround.  On coming to himself, he learnt with surprise of the\nscavenger's victory over the ogre, with which all the town was\nringing.  He understood how the wicked wretch had stepped in and\ndefrauded him, and having no witness but his own word, saw it would be\nuseless to dispute the point; therefore he gladly accepted the\npotters' offer of teaching him their trade.\n\nThus the Prince sat at the potters' wheel, and proved so clever, that\nere long they became famous for the beautiful patterns and excellent\nworkmanship of their wares; so much so, that the story of the handsome\nyoung potter who had been found in a clay-pit soon became noised\nabroad; and although the Prince had wisely never breathed a word of\nhis adventures to any one, yet, when the news of his existence reached\nthe Scavenger-king's ears, he determined in some way or another to get\nrid of the young man, lest the truth should leak out.\n\nNow, just at this time, the fleet of merchant vessels which annually\ncame to the city with merchandise and spices was detained in harbour\nby calms and contrary winds.  So long were they detained that the\nmerchants feared lest they should be unable to return within the year;\nand as this was a serious matter, the auguries were consulted.  They\ndeclared that until a human sacrifice was made the vessels would never\nleave port.  When this was reported to the Scavenger-king he seized\nhis opportunity, and said, 'Be it so; but do not sacrifice a citizen.\nGive the merchants that good-for-nothing potter-lad, who comes no one\nknows whence.'\n\n[Illustration:  The prince at the potter's wheel]\n\nThe courtiers of course lauded the kindness of the Scavenger-king to\nthe skies, and the Prince was handed over to the merchants, who,\ntaking him on board their ships, prepared to kill him.  However, he\nbegged and prayed them so hard to wait till evening, on the chance of\na breeze coming up, that they consented to wait till sunset.  Then,\nwhen none came, the Prince took a knife and made a tiny cut on his\nlittle finger.  As the first drop of blood flowed forth, the sails of\nthe first ship filled with wind, and she glided swiftly out of\nharbour; at the second drop, the second ship did likewise, and so on\ntill the whole fleet were sailing before a strong breeze.\n\nThe merchants were enchanted at having such a valuable possession as\nthe Prince, who could thus compel the winds, and took the very\ngreatest care of him; before long he was a great favourite with them\nall, for he was really an amiable young man.  At length they arrived\nat another city, which happened to be the very one where the Prince's\nbrother had been elected King by the elephant, and while the merchants\nwent into the town to transact business, they left the Prince to watch\nover the vessels.  Now, growing weary of watching, the Prince, to\namuse himself, began, with the clay on the shore beside him, to make a\nmodel from memory of his father's palace.  Growing interested in his\nwork, he worked away till he had made the most beautiful thing\nimaginable.  There was the garden full of flowers, the King on his\nthrone, the courtiers sitting round,--even the Princes learning in\nschool, and the pigeons fluttering about the tower.  When it was quite\nfinished, the poor young Prince could not help the tears coming into\nhis eyes, as he looked at it, and he sighed to think of past days.\n\nJust at that very moment the Prime Minister's daughter, surrounded by\nher women, happened to pass that way.  She looked at the beautiful\nmodel, and was wonderstruck, but when she saw the handsome, sad young\nman who sat sighing beside it, she went straight home, locked the\ndoors, and refused to eat anything at all.  Her father, fearing she\nwas ill, sent to inquire what was wrong, whereupon she sent him this\nreply:  'Tell my father I will neither eat nor drink until he marries\nme to the young man who sits sighing on the sea-shore beside a king's\npalace made of clay.'\n\nAt first the Prime Minister was very angry, but seeing his daughter\nwas determined to starve herself to death if she did not gain her\npoint, he outwardly gave his consent; privately, however, arranging\nwith the merchants that immediately after the marriage the bride and\nbridegroom were to go on board the ships, which were at once to set\nsail, and that on the first opportunity the Prince was to be thrown\noverboard, and the Princess brought back to her father.\n\nSo the marriage took place, the ships sailed away, and a day or two\nafterwards the merchants pushed the young man overboard as he was\nsitting on the prow.  But it so happened that a rope was hanging from\nthe bride's window in the stern, and as the Prince drifted by, he\ncaught it and climbed up into her cabin unseen.  She hid him in her\nbox, where he lay concealed, and when they brought her food, she\nrefused to eat, pretending grief, and saying, 'Leave it here; perhaps\nI may be hungry by and by.'  Then she shared the meal with her\nhusband.\n\nThe merchants, thinking they had managed everything beautifully,\nturned their ships round, and brought the bride and her box back to\nher father, who, being much pleased, rewarded them handsomely.\n\nHis daughter also was quite content, and having reached her own\napartments, let her husband out of the box and dressed him as a\nwoman-servant, so that he could go about the palace quite securely.\n\nNow the Prince had of course told his wife the whole story of his\nlife, and when she in return had related how the King of that country\nhad been elected by the elephant, her husband began to feel sure he\nhad found his long-lost brother at last.  Then he laid a plan to make\nsure.  Every day a bouquet of flowers was sent to the King from the\nMinister's garden, so one evening the Prince, in his disguise, went up\nto the gardener's daughter, who was cutting flowers, and said, 'I will\nteach you a new fashion of arranging them, if you like.'  Then, taking\nthe flowers, he tied them together just as his father's gardener used\nto do.\n\nThe next morning, when the King saw the bouquet, he became quite pale,\nand turning to the gardener, asked him who had arranged the flowers.\n\n'I did, sire,' replied the gardener, trembling with fear.\n\n'You lie, knave!' cried the King; 'but go, bring me just such another\nbouquet to-morrow, or your head shall be the forfeit!'\n\nThat day the gardener's daughter came weeping to the disguised Prince,\nand, telling him all, besought him to make her another bouquet to save\nher father's life.  The Prince willingly consented, for he was now\ncertain the King was his long-lost brother; and, making a still more\nbeautiful bouquet, concealed a paper, on which his name was written,\namidst the flowers.\n\nWhen the King discovered the paper he turned quite pale, and said to\nthe gardener, 'I am now convinced you never made this nosegay; but\ntell me the truth, and I will forgive you.'\n\nWhereupon the gardener fell on his knees and confessed that one of the\nwomen-servants in the Prime Minister's palace had made it for his\ndaughter.  This surprised the King immensely, and he determined to\ndisguise himself and go with the gardener's daughter to cut flowers in\nthe Minister's garden, which he accordingly did; but no sooner did the\ndisguised young Prince behold his brother than he recognised him, and\nwishing to see if power and wealth had made his brother forget their\nyouthful affection, he parried all questions as to where he had learnt\nto arrange flowers, and replied by telling the story of his\nadventures, as far as the eating of the starling and the parrot.  Then\nhe declared he was too tired to proceed further that day, but would\ncontinue his story on the next.  The King, though greatly excited, was\naccordingly obliged to wait till the next evening, when the Prince\ntold of his fight with the demon and delivery by the potters.  Then\nonce more he declared he was tired, and the King, who was on pins and\nneedles to hear more, had to wait yet another day; and so on until the\nseventh day, when the Prince concluded his tale by relating his\nmarriage with the Prime Minister's daughter, and disguise as a woman.\n\nThen the King fell on his brother's neck and rejoiced greatly; the\nMinister also, when he heard what an excellent marriage his daughter\nhad made, was so pleased that he voluntarily resigned his office in\nfavour of his son-in-law.  So what the parrot and the starling had\nsaid came true, for the one brother was King, and the other Prime\nMinister.\n\nThe very first thing the King did was to send ambassadors to the court\nof the king who owned the country where the ogre had been killed,\ntelling him the truth of the story, and saying that his brother, being\nquite satisfied as Prime Minister, did not intend to claim half the\nkingdom.  At this, the king of that country was so delighted that he\nbegged the Minister Prince to accept of his daughter as a bride, to\nwhich the Prince replied that he was already married, but that his\nbrother the King would gladly make her his wife.\n\nSo there were immense rejoicings, but the Scavenger-king was put to\ndeath, as he very well deserved.\n\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE IGUANA\n\n\nOne moonlight night, a miserable, half-starved jackal, skulking\nthrough the village, found a worn-out pair of shoes in the gutter.\nThey were too tough for him to eat, so, determined to make some use of\nthem, he strung them to his ears like earrings, and, going down to the\nedge of the pond, gathered all the old bones he could find together,\nand built a platform with them, plastering it over with mud.\n\nOn this he sat in a dignified attitude, and when any animal came to\nthe pond to drink, he cried out in a loud voice, 'Hi! stop!  You must\nnot taste a drop till you have done homage to me.  So repeat these\nverses, which I have composed in honour of the occasion:--\n\n  'Silver is his da\u00efs, plastered o'er with gold;\n  In his ears are jewels,--some prince I must behold!'\n\nNow, as most of the animals were very thirsty, and in a great hurry to\ndrink, they did not care to dispute the matter, but gabbled off the\nwords without a second thought.  Even the royal tiger, treating it as\na jest, repeated the jackal's rhyme, in consequence of which the\nlatter became quite cock-a-hoop, and really began to believe he was a\npersonage of great importance.\n\n[Illustration:  The jackal on the mud-plastered bone platform]\n\nBy and by an iguana, or big lizard, came waddling and wheezing down to\nthe water, looking for all the world like a baby alligator.\n\n'Hi! you there!' sang out the jackal; 'you mustn't drink until you\nhave said--\n\n'Silver is his da\u00efs, plastered o'er with gold; In his ears are\njewels,--some prince I must behold!'\n\n'Pouf! pouf! pouf!' gasped the iguana.  'Mercy on us, how dry my\nthroat is!  Mightn't I have just a wee sip of water first? and then I\ncould do justice to your admirable lines; at present I am as hoarse as\na crow!'\n\n'By all means!' replied the jackal, with a gratified smirk.  'I\nflatter myself the verses _are_ good, especially when well\nrecited.'\n\nSo the iguana, nose down into the water, drank away, until the jackal\nbegan to think he would never leave off, and was quite taken aback\nwhen he finally came to an end of his draught, and began to move away.\n\n'Hi! hi!' cried the jackal, recovering his presence of mind;' stop a\nbit, and say--\n\n  'Silver is his da\u00efs, plastered o'er with gold;\n  In his ears are jewels,--some prince I must behold!'\n\n'Dear me!' replied the iguana, politely, 'I was very nearly\nforgetting!  Let me see--I must try my voice first--Do, re, me, fa,\nsol, la, si,--that is right!  Now, how does it run?'\n\n  'Silver is his da\u00efs, plastered o'er with gold;\n  In his ears are jewels,--some prince I must behold!'\n\nrepeated the jackal, not observing that the lizard was carefully\nedging farther and farther away.\n\n'Exactly so,' returned the iguana; 'I think I could say that!'\nWhereupon he sang out at the top of his voice--\n\n  'Bones make up his da\u00efs, with mud it's plastered o'er,\n  Old shoes are his ear-drops:  a jackal, nothing more!'\n\nAnd turning round, he bolted for his hole as hard as he could.\n\nThe jackal could scarcely believe his ears, and sat dumb with\nastonishment.  Then, rage lending him wings, he flew after the lizard,\nwho, despite his short legs and scanty breath, put his best foot\nforemost, and scuttled away at a great rate.\n\nIt was a near race, however, for just as he popped into his hole, the\njackal caught him by the tail, and held on.  Then it was a case of\n'pull butcher, pull baker,' until the lizard made certain his tail\nmust come off, and the jackal felt as if his front teeth would come\nout.  Still not an inch did either budge, one way or the other, and\nthere they might have remained till the present day, had not the\niguana called out, in his sweetest tones, 'Friend, I give in!  Just\nleave hold of my tail, will you? then I can turn round and come out.'\n\nWhereupon the jackal let go, and the tail disappeared up the hole in a\ntwinkling; while all the reward the jackal got for digging away until\nhis nails were nearly worn out, was hearing the iguana sing softly--\n\n  'Bones make up his da\u00efs, with mud it's plastered o'er,\n  Old shoes are his ear-drops:  a jackal, nothing more!'\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH AND BURIAL OF POOR HEN-SPARROW\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a cock-sparrow and his wife, who were\nboth growing old.  But despite his years the cock-sparrow was a gay,\nfestive old bird, who plumed himself upon his appearance, and was\nquite a ladies' man.  So he cast his eyes on a lively young hen, and\ndetermined to marry her, for he was tired of his sober old wife.  The\nwedding was a mighty grand affair, and everybody as jolly and merry as\ncould be, except of course the poor old wife, who crept away from all\nthe noise and fun to sit disconsolately on a quiet branch just under a\ncrow's nest, where she could be as melancholy as she liked without\nanybody poking fun at her.\n\nNow while she sat there it began to rain, and after a while the drops,\nsoaking through the crow's nest, came drip-dripping on to her\nfeathers; she, however, was far too miserable to care, and sat there\nall huddled up and peepy till the shower was over.  Now it so happened\nthat the crow had used some scraps of dyed cloth in lining its nest,\nand as these became wet the colours ran, and dripping down on to the\npoor old hen-sparrow beneath, dyed her feathers until she was as gay\nas a peacock.\n\nFine feathers make fine birds, we all know, and she really looked\nquite spruce; so much so, that when she flew home, the new wife nearly\nburst with envy, and asked her at once where she had found such a\nlovely dress.\n\n'Easily enough,' replied the old wife; 'I just went into the dyer's\nvat.'\n\nThe bride instantly determined to go there also.  She could not endure\nthe notion of the old thing being better dressed than she was, so she\nflew off at once to the dyer's, and being in a great hurry, went pop\ninto the middle of the vat, without waiting to see if it was hot or\ncold.  It turned out to be just scalding; consequently the poor thing\nwas half boiled before she managed to scramble out.  Meanwhile, the\ngay old cock, not finding his bride at home, flew about distractedly\nin search of her, and you may imagine what bitter tears he wept when\nhe found her, half drowned and half boiled, with her feathers all\nawry, lying by the dyer's vat.\n\n'What has happened?' quoth he.\n\nBut the poor bedraggled thing could only gasp out feebly--\n\n  'The old wife was dyed--\n  The nasty old cat!\n  And I, the gay bride,\n  Fell into the vat!'\n\nWhereupon the cock-sparrow took her up tenderly in his bill, and flew\naway home with his precious burden.  Now, just as he was crossing the\nbig river in front of his house, the old hen-sparrow, in her gay\ndress, looked out of the window, and when she saw her old husband\nbringing home his young bride in such a sorry plight, she burst out\nlaughing shrilly, and called aloud, 'That is right! that is right!\nRemember what the song says--\n\n  'Old wives must scramble through water and mud,\n  But young wives are carried dry-shod o'er the flood.'\n\nThis allusion so enraged her husband that he could not contain\nhimself, but cried out,' Hold your tongue, you shameless old cat!'\n\nOf course, when he opened his mouth to speak, the poor draggled bride\nfell out, and going plump into the river, was drowned.  Whereupon the\ncock-sparrow was so distracted with grief that he picked off all his\nfeathers until he was as bare as a ploughed field.  Then, going to a\n_p\u00eepal_ tree, he sat all naked and forlorn on the branches,\nsobbing and sighing.\n\n'What has happened?' cried the _p\u00eepal_ tree, aghast at the sight.\n\n'Don't ask me!' wailed the cock-sparrow; 'it isn't manners to ask\nquestions when a body is in deep mourning.'\n\nBut the _p\u00eepal_ would not be satisfied without an answer, so at\nlast poor bereaved cock-sparrow replied--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair!'\n\nOn hearing this sad tale, the _p\u00eepal_ became overwhelmed with\ngrief, and declaring it must mourn also, shed all its leaves on the\nspot.\n\nBy and by a buffalo, coming in the heat of the day to rest in the\nshade of the _p\u00eepal_ tree, was astonished to find nothing but\nbare twigs.\n\n'What has happened?' cried the buffalo; 'you were as green as possible\nyesterday!'\n\n'Don't ask me!' whimpered the _p\u00eepal_.  'Where are your manners?\nDon't you know it isn't decent to ask questions when people are in\nmourning?'\n\nBut the buffalo insisted on having an answer, so at last, with many\nsobs and sighs, the _p\u00eepal_ replied--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Bewailing his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves!'\n\n'Oh dear me!' cried the buffalo, 'how very sad!  I really must mourn\ntoo!'  So she immediately cast her horns, and began to weep and wail.\nAfter a while, becoming thirsty, she went to drink at the river-side.\n\n'Goodness gracious!' cried the river, 'what is the matter? and what\nhave you done with your horns?'\n\n'How rude you are!' wept the buffalo.  'Can't you see I am in deep\nmourning? and it isn't polite to ask questions.'\n\nBut the river persisted, until the buffalo, with many groans,\nreplied--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns!'\n\n'Dreadful!' cried the river, and wept so fast that its water became\nquite salt.\n\nBy and by a cuckoo, coming to bathe in the stream, called out, 'Why,\nriver! what has happened?  You are as salt as tears!'\n\n'Don't ask me!' mourned the stream; 'it is too dreadful for words!'\n\nNevertheless, when the cuckoo would take no denial, the river\nreplied--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last!'\n\n'Oh dear! oh dear me!' cried the cuckoo, 'how very very sad!  I must\nmourn too!'  So it plucked out an eye, and going to a corn-merchant's\nshop, sat on the doorstep and wept.\n\n'Why, little cuckoo! what's the matter?' cried Bhagtu the shopkeeper.\n'You are generally the pertest of birds, and to-day you are as dull\nas ditchwater!'\n\n'Don't ask me!' snivelled the cuckoo; 'it is such terrible grief! such\ndreadful sorrow! such--such horrible pain!'\n\nHowever, when Bhagtu persisted, the cuckoo, wiping its one eye on its\nwing, replied--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last;\n  The cuckoo with sighs\n  Blinds one of its eyes!'\n\n'Bless my heart!' cried Bhagtu,'but that is simply the most\nheartrending tale I ever heard in my life!  I must really mourn\nlikewise!'  Whereupon he wept, and wailed, and beat his breast, until\nhe went completely out of his mind; and when the Queen's maidservant\ncame to buy of him, he gave her pepper instead of turmeric, onion\ninstead of garlic, and wheat instead of pulse.\n\n'Dear me, friend Bhagtu!' quoth the maid-* servant, 'your wits are\nwool-gathering!  What's the matter?'\n\n'Don't! please don't!' cried Bhagtu; 'I wish you wouldn't ask me, for\nI am trying to forget all about it.  It is too dreadful--too too\nterrible!'\n\nAt last, however, yielding to the maid's entreaties, he replied, with\nmany sobs and tears--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last;\n  The cuckoo with sighs\n  Blinds one of its eyes;\n  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,\n  He loses his senses!'\n\n'How very sad!' exclaimed the maidservant.  'I don't wonder at your\ndistress; but it is always so in this miserable world!--everything\ngoes wrong!'\n\nWhereupon she fell to railing at everybody and everything in the\nworld, until the Queen said to her, 'What is the matter, my child?\nWhat distresses you?'\n\n'Oh!' replied the maidservant, 'the old story! every one is miserable,\nand I most of all!  Such dreadful news!--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last;\n  The cuckoo with sighs\n  Blinds one of its eyes;\n  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,\n  He loses his senses;\n  The maidservant wailing\n  Has taken to railing!'\n\n'Too true!' wept the Queen, 'too true!  The world is a vale of tears!\nThere is nothing for it but to try and forget!'  Whereupon she set to\nwork dancing away as hard as she could.\n\nBy and by in came the Prince, who, seeing her twirling about, said,\n'Why, mother! what is the matter?'\n\nThe Queen, without stopping, gasped out--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last;\n  The cuckoo with sighs\n  Blinds one of its eyes;\n  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,\n  He loses his senses;\n  The maidservant wailing\n  Has taken to railing;\n  The Queen, joy enhancing,\n  Takes refuge in dancing!'\n\n'If that is your mourning, I'll mourn too!' cried the Prince, and\nseizing his tambourine, he began to thump on it with a will.  Hearing\nthe noise, the King came in, and asked what was the matter.\n\n'This is the matter!' cried the Prince, drumming away with all his\nmight--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Lamenting his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last;\n  The cuckoo with sighs\n  Blinds one of its eyes;\n  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,\n  He loses his senses;\n  The maidservant wailing\n  Has taken to railing;\n  The Queen, joy enhancing,\n  Takes refuge in dancing;\n  To aid the mirth coming,\n  The Prince begins drumming!'\n\n'Capital! capital!' cried the King, 'that's the way to do it!' so,\nseizing his zither, he began to thrum away like one possessed.\n\nAnd as they danced, the Queen, the King, the Prince, and the\nmaidservant sang--\n\n  'The ugly hen painted.\n  By jealousy tainted,\n  The pretty hen dyed.\n  Bewailing his bride,\n  The cock, bald and bare,\n  Sobs loud in despair;\n  The _p\u00eepal_ tree grieves\n  By shedding its leaves;\n  The buffalo mourns\n  By casting her horns;\n  The stream, weeping fast,\n  Grows briny at last;\n  The cuckoo with sighs\n  Blinds one of its eyes;\n  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,\n  He loses his senses;\n  The maidservant wailing\n  Has taken to railing;\n  The Queen, joy enhancing,\n  Takes refuge in dancing;\n  To aid the mirth coming,\n  The Prince begins drumming;\n  To join in it with her\n  The King strums the zither!'\n\nSo they danced and sang till they were tired, and that was how every\none mourned poor cock-sparrow's pretty bride.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPRINCESS PEPPERINA\n\n\nA Bulbul once lived in a forest, and sang all day to her mate, till\none morning she said, 'Oh, dearest husband! you sing beautifully, but\nI should so like some nice green pepper to eat!'  The obedient bulbul\nat once flew off to find some, but though he flew for miles, peeping\ninto every garden by the way, he could not discover a single green\npepper.  Either there was no fruit at all on the bushes, but only tiny\nwhite star-flowers, or the peppers were all ripe, and crimson red.\n\nAt last, right out in the wilderness, he came upon a high-walled\ngarden.  Tall mango-trees shaded it on all sides, shutting out fierce\nsunshine and rough winds, and within grew innumerable flowers and\nfruits.  But there was no sign of life within its walls--no birds, no\nbutterflies, only silence and a perfume of flowers.\n\nThe bulbul alighted in the middle of the garden, and, lo! there grew a\nsolitary pepper plant, and amid the polished leaves shone a single\ngreen fruit of immense size, gleaming like an emerald.\n\nGreatly delighted, the bird flew home to his mate, and telling her he\nhad found the most beautiful green pepper in the world, brought her\nback with him to the garden, where she at once began to eat the\ndelicious morsel.\n\nNow the Jinn to whom the garden belonged had all this time been asleep\nin a summer-house; and as he generally kept awake for twelve whole\nyears, and then slept for another twelve years, he was of course very\nsound asleep, and knew nothing of the bulbul's coming and going.\nNevertheless, as the time of his awaking was not far off, he had\ndreadful nightmares whilst the green pepper was being pecked to\npieces, and, becoming restless, awoke just when the bulbul's wife,\nafter laying one glittering emerald-green egg beneath the pepper\nplant, flew away with her husband.\n\nAs usual, the Jinn, after yawning and stretching, went to see how his\npet pepper was getting on.  Great was his sorrow and rage at finding\nit pecked to pieces.  He could not imagine what had done the mischief,\nknowing as he did that neither bird, beast, nor insect lived in the\ngarden.\n\n'Some dreadful creeping thing from that horrid world outside must have\nstolen in, whilst I slept,' said the Jinn to himself, and immediately\nbegan to search for the intruder.  He found nothing, however, but the\nglittering green egg, with which he was so much astonished that he\ntook it to his summer-house, wrapped it up in cotton-wool, and put it\naway carefully in a carved niche in the wall.  Every day he went and\nlooked at it, sighing over the thought of his lost pepper, until one\nmorning, lo and behold! the egg had disappeared, and in its place sat\nthe loveliest little maiden, dressed from head to foot in\nemerald-green, while round her neck hung a single emerald of great\nsize, shaped just like the green pepper.\n\nThe Jinn, who was a quiet, inoffensive creature, was delighted, for he\nloved children, and this one was the daintiest little morsel ever\nbeheld.  So he made it the business of his life to tend Princess\nPepperina, for such the maiden informed him was her name.\n\nNow, when twelve years had passed by in the flowery garden, it became\ntime for the good-natured Jinn to go to sleep again; and it puzzled\nhim very much to think what would become of his Princess when he was\nno longer able to take care of her.  But it so happened that a great\nKing and his Minister, while hunting in the forest, came upon the\nhigh-walled garden, and being curious to see what was inside, they\nclimbed over the wall, and found the lovely Princess Pepperina seated\nby the pepper plant.\n\nThe King immediately fell in love with her, and in the most elegant\nlanguage begged her to be his wife.  But the Princess hung down her\nhead modestly, saying, 'Not so!--you must ask the Jinn who owns this\ngarden; only he has an unfortunate habit of eating men sometimes.'\n\nNevertheless, when she saw the young King kneeling before her, she\ncould not help thinking him the handsomest and most splendid young man\nin the world, so her heart softened, and when she heard the Jinn's\nfootstep, she cried, 'Hide yourself in the garden, and I will see if I\ncan persuade my guardian to listen to you.'\n\nNow, no sooner had the Jinn appeared, than he began to sniff about,\nand cry 'Fee! fa! fum!  I smell the blood of a man!'\n\nThen the Princess Pepperina soothed him, saying, 'Dear Jinn! you may\neat _me_ if you like, for there is no one else here,'\n\nAnd the Jinn replied, kissing and caressing her the while, 'My dearest\nlife!  I would sooner eat bricks and mortar!'\n\nAfter that the Princess cunningly led the conversation to the Jinn's\napproaching slumbers, and wondered tearfully what she should do alone\nin the walled garden.  At this the good-hearted Jinn became greatly\ntroubled, until at last he declared that the best plan would be to\nmarry her to some young nobleman, but, he added, a worthy husband was\nhard to find, especially as it was necessary he should be as handsome,\nas a man, as Princess Pepperina was beautiful amongst women.  Hearing\nthis, the Princess seized her opportunity, and asked the Jinn if he\nwould promise to let her marry any one who was as beautiful as she\nwas.  The Jinn promised faithfully, little thinking the Princess\nalready had her eye on such a one, and was immensely astonished when\nshe clapped her hands, and the splendid young King appeared from a\nthicket.  Nevertheless, when the young couple stood together hand in\nhand, even the Jinn was obliged to own that such a handsome pair had\nnever before been seen; so he gave his consent to their marriage,\nwhich was performed in ever so great a hurry, for already the Jinn had\nbegun to nod and yawn.  Still, when it came to saying good-bye to his\ndear little Princess, he wept so much that the tears kept him awake,\nand he followed her in his thoughts, until the desire to see her face\nonce more became so strong that he changed himself into a dove, which\nflying after her, fluttered above her head.  She seemed quite happy,\ntalking and whispering to her handsome husband, so he flew home again\nto sleep.  But the green mantle of his dear little Princess kept\nfloating before his eyes, so that he could not rest, and changing\nhimself into a hawk, he sped after her, circling far above her head.\nShe was smiling by her husband's side, so the Jinn flew home to his\ngarden, yawning terribly.  But the soft eyes of his dear little\nPepperina seemed to look into his, driving sleep far from them; so he\nchanged into an eagle, and soaring far up into the blue sky, saw with\nhis bright piercing gaze the Princess entering a King's palace far\naway on the horizon.  Then the good Jinn was satisfied, and fell fast\nasleep.\n\nNow during the years which followed, the young King remained\npassionately in love with his beautiful bride, but the other women in\nthe palace were very jealous of her, especially after she gave birth\nto the most lovely young Prince imaginable.  They determined to\ncompass her ruin, and spent hours in thinking how they might kill her,\nor lay a snare for her.\n\nEvery night they would come to the door of the Queen's room, and\nwhisper, to see if she was awake, 'The Princess Pepperina is awake,\nbut all the world is fast asleep.'\n\nNow the emerald, which the young Queen still wore round her neck, was\na real talisman, and always told the truth; if any one even whispered\na story, it just up and out with the truth _at once_, and shamed\nthe culprit without remorse.  So the emerald on these occasions would\nanswer, 'Not so! the Princess Pepperina is asleep.  It is the world\nthat wakes.'\n\nThen the wicked women would shrink away, for they knew they had no\npower to harm the Princess while the talisman was round her neck.\n\nAt last it so happened that when the young Queen was bathing she took\noff the emerald talisman, and left it by mistake in the\nbathing-place.  So that night, when the jealous women as usual came\nwhispering round the door, 'The Princess Pepperina is awake, but all\nthe world sleeps,' the truthful talisman called out from the\nbathing-place, 'Not so! the Princess Pepperina sleeps.  It is the\nworld that wakes.'\n\nKnowing by the sound of the talisman's voice that it was not in its\nusual place, these wicked creatures stole into the room gently, killed\nthe infant Prince, who was peacefully sleeping in his little crib, cut\nhim into little bits, laid them in his mother's bed, and gently\nstained her lips with the blood.\n\nEarly next morning they flew to the King, weeping and wailing, bidding\nhim come and see the horrible sight.\n\n'Look!' said they, 'the beautiful wife you loved so much is an\nogress!  We warned you against her, and now she has killed her child\nin order to eat its flesh!'\n\nThe King was terribly grieved and wroth, for he loved his wife, and\nyet could not deny she was an ogress; so he ordered her to be whipped\nout of his kingdom and then slain.\n\nSo the lovely tender fair young Queen was scourged out of the land,\nand then cruelly murdered, whilst the wicked jealous women rejoiced at\ntheir evil success.\n\nBut when Princess Pepperina died, her body became a high white marble\nwall, her eyes turned into liquid pools of water, her green mantle\nchanged into stretches of verdant grass, her long curling hair into\nlovely creepers and tendrils, while her scarlet mouth and white teeth\nbecame a beautiful bed of roses and narcissus.  Then her soul took the\nform of a sheldrake and its mate,--those loving birds which, like the\nturtle-dove, are always constant,--and floating on the liquid pools,\nthey mourned all day long the sad fate of the Princess Pepperina.\n\nNow, after many days, the young King, who, despite her supposed crime,\ncould not help bewailing his beautiful bride, went out a-hunting, and\nfinding no game, wandered far afield, until he came to the high white\nmarble wall.  Curious to see what it enclosed, he climbed over on to\nthe verdant grass, where the tendrils waved softly, the roses and\nnarcissus blossomed, and the loving birds floated on the liquid pools\nmourning all day long.\n\nThe King, weary and sad, lay down to rest in the lovely spot, and\nlistened to the cry of the birds, and as he listened, the meaning\nseemed to grow plain, so that he heard them tell the whole story of\nthe wicked women's treachery.\n\nThen the one bird said, weeping, to the other, 'Can she never become\nalive again?'  And the other answered, 'If the King were to catch us,\nand hold us close, heart to heart, while he severed our heads from our\nbodies with one blow of his sword, so that neither of us should die\nbefore the other, the Princess Pepperina would become alive once\nmore.  But if one dies before the other, she will always remain as she\nis!'\n\nThen the King, with a beating heart, called the birds to him, and they\ncame quite readily, standing heart to heart while he cut off their\nheads with one blow of his sword, so that they fell dead at the\nself-same moment.\n\nAt the very same instant the Princess Pepperina appeared, smiling,\nmore beautiful than ever; but, strange to say, the liquid pools, the\ngrass, the climbing tendrils, and the flowers remained as they were.\n\nThen the King besought her to return home with him, vowing he would\nnever again distrust her, and would put all the wicked traitors to\ndeath; but she refused, saying she would prefer to live always within\nthe high white marble walls, where no one could molest her.\n\n'Just so!' cried the Jinn, who, having but that moment awakened from\nhis twelve years' sleep, had flown straight to his dearest Princess.\n'Here you shall live, and I will live with you!'\n\nThen he built the King and Queen a magnificent palace, where they\nlived very happily ever after; and as no one knew anything about it,\nno one was jealous of the beautiful Princess Pepperina.\n\n\n\n\nPEASIE AND BEANSIE\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two sisters, who lived together; but while\nthe elder, Beansie by name, was a hard quarrelsome creature, apt to\ndisagree with everybody, Peasie, the younger, was soft and most\nagreeable.\n\nNow, one day, Peasie, who was for ever trying to please somebody, said\nto her sister, 'Beansie, my dear! don't you think we ought to pay a\nvisit to our poor old father?  He must be dull now--it is harvest\ntime, and he is left alone in the house.'\n\n'I don't care if he is!' replied Beansie.  'Go yourself!  I'm not\ngoing to walk about in the heat to please any old man!'\n\nSo kind Peasie set off alone, and on the way she met a plum-tree.\n'Oh, Peasie!' cried the tree, 'stop a bit, there's a good soul, and\ntidy up my thorns a little; they are scattered about so that I feel\nquite uncomfortable!'\n\n'So they are, I declare!' returned Peasie, and forthwith set to work\nwith such a will that ere long the tree was as neat as a new pin.\n\nA little farther on she met a fire, and the fire cried out, 'Oh, sweet\nPeasie! tidy up my hearth a bit, for I am half choked in the ashes!'\n\n'So you are, I declare!' returned good-natured Peasie, setting herself\nto clear them away, until the fire crackled and flamed with pleasure.\n\nFarther on she met a _p\u00eepal_ tree, and the _p\u00eepal_ called\nout, 'Oh, kind Peasie! bind up this broken branch for me, or it will\ndie, and I shall lose it!'\n\n'Poor thing! poor thing!' cried soft-hearted Peasie; and tearing a\nbandage from her veil, she bound up the wounded limb carefully.\n\nAfter a while she met a stream, and the stream cried out, 'Pretty\nPeasie! clear away the sand and dead leaves from my mouth, for I\ncannot run when I am stifled!'\n\n'No more you can!' quoth obliging Peasie; and in a trice she made the\nchannel so clear and clean that the water flowed on swiftly.\n\nAt last she arrived, rather tired, at her old father's house, but his\ndelight at seeing her was so great that he would scarcely let her away\nin the evening, and insisted on giving her a spinning-wheel, a\nbuffalo, some brass pots, a bed, and all sorts of things, just as if\nshe had been a bride going to her husband.  These she put on the\nbuffalo's back, and set off homewards.\n\nNow, as she passed the stream, she saw a web of fine cloth floating\ndown.\n\n'Take it, Peasie, take it!' tinkled the stream; 'I have carried it\nfar, as a reward for your kindness.'\n\nSo she gathered up the cloth, laid it on the buffalo, and went on her\nway.\n\nBy and by she passed the _p\u00eepal_ tree, and lo! on the branch she\nhad tied up hung a string of pearls.\n\n'Take it, Peasie, take it!' rustled the _p\u00eepal_; 'I caught it\nfrom a Prince's turban as a reward for your kindness.'\n\nThen she took the pearls, fastened them round her pretty slender\nthroat, and went on her way rejoicing.\n\n[Illustration:  Peasie and her buffalo]\n\nFarther on she came to the fire, burning brightly, and on it was a\ngirdle with a nice hot sweet-cake.\n\n'Take it, Peasie, take it!' crackled the fire; 'I have cooked it to a\nturn, in reward for your kindness.'\n\nSo lucky Peasie took the nice hot cake, and, dividing it into two\npieces, put one aside for her sister, and ate the other while she went\non her way.\n\nNow when she reached the plum-tree, the topmost branches were bending\ndown, covered with ripe yellow fruit.\n\n'Take some, Peasie, take some!' groaned the laden tree; 'I have\nripened these as a reward for your kindness.'\n\nSo she gathered her veil full, and eating some, set the rest aside for\nher sister; but when she arrived at home, instead of being pleased at\nher little sister's good fortune and thoughtfulness, disagreeable\nBeansie nearly cried with spite and envy, and was so cross, that poor\nlittle sweet Peasie became quite remorseful over her own luck, and\nsuggested that her sister might be equally fortunate if she also went\nto visit her father.\n\nSo, next morning, greedy Beansie set off to see what she could get\nfrom the old man.  But when she came to the plum-tree, and it cried\nout, 'Oh, Beansie! stop a bit and tidy up my thorns a little, there's\na good soul!' the disobliging Beansie tossed her head, and replied, 'A\nlikely story!  Why, I could travel three miles in the time it would\ntake me to settle up your stupid old thorns!  Do it yourself!'\n\nAnd when she met the _p\u00eepal_ tree, and it asked her to tie up its\nbroken branch, she only laughed, saying, 'It doesn't hurt _me_,\nand I should have walked three miles in the time it would take to set\nit right; so ask somebody else!'\n\nThen when the fire said to her, 'Oh, sweet Beansie! tidy up my hearth\na bit, for I am half choked by my ashes,' the unkind girl replied,\n'The more fool you for having ashes!  You don't suppose I am going to\ndawdle about helping people who won't help themselves?  Not a bit of\nit!'\n\nSo when she met the stream, and it asked her to clear away the sand\nand the dead leaves which choked it, she replied, 'Do you imagine I'm\ngoing to stop my walk that you may run?  No, no!--every one for\nhimself!'\n\nAt last she reached her father's house, full of determination not to\ngo away without a heavy load for at least two buffaloes, when, just as\nshe was entering the courtyard, her brother and his wife fell upon\nher, and whacked her most unmercifully, crying, 'So this is your plan,\nis it?  Yesterday comes Peasie, while we were hard at work, and\nwheedles her doting old father out of his best buffalo, and goodness\nknows what else besides, and to-day _you_ come to rob us!  Out of\nthe house, you baggage!'\n\nWith that they hounded her away, hot, tired, bruised, and hungry.\n\n'Never mind!' said she, to console herself, 'I shall get the web of\ncloth yet!'\n\nSure enough, when she crossed the stream, there was a web, three times\nas fine as Peasie's, floating close to the shore, and greedy Beansie\nwent straight to get it; but, alas! the water was so deep that she was\nvery nearly drowned, while the beautiful cloth floated past her very\nfingers.  Thus all she got for her pains was a ducking.\n\n'Never mind!' thought she, 'I'll have the string of pearls!'\n\nYes, there it hung on the broken branch; but when Beansie jumped to\ncatch it, branch and all fell right on her head, so that she was\nstunned.  When she came to herself, some one else had walked off with\nthe pearls, and she had only a bump on her head as big as an egg.\n\nAll these misfortunes had quite wearied her out; she was starving with\nhunger, and hurried on to the fire, hoping for a nice hot sweet\ngirdle-cake.\n\nYes, there it was, smelling most deliciously, and Beansie snatched at\nit so hastily that she burnt her fingers horribly and the cake rolled\naway.  Before she had done blowing at her fingers and hopping about in\npain, a crow had carried off the cake, and she was left lamenting.\n\n'At any rate, I'll have the plums!' cried miserable Beansie, setting\noff at a run, her mouth watering at the sight of the luscious yellow\nfruit on the topmost branches.  First she held on to a lower branch\nwith her left hand, and reached for the fruit with the right; then,\nwhen that was all scratched and torn by the thorns, she held on with\nher right, and tried to get the fruit with the left, but all to no\navail; and when face and hands were all bleeding and full of prickles,\nshe gave up the useless quest, and went home, bruised, beaten, wet,\nsore, hungry, and scratched all over, where I have no doubt her kind\nsister Peasie put her to bed, and gave her gruel and posset.\n\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE\n\n\nA Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was\nvery exacting and jealous.  'You don't do half as much for me as I do\nfor you,' he used to say, 'and yet you talk a great deal of your\nfriendship.  Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me\nlaugh or cry, give me a good meal, or save my life if need be.  You\ncouldn't do that!'\n\n'Let us see,' answered the Partridge; 'follow me at a little distance,\nand if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!'\n\nSo she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind\nthe other.  They were both footsore and weary, and the first carried\nhis bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his\nshoes in his hand.\n\nLightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's\nstick.  He, none the wiser, trudged on, but the second traveller,\nseeing the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to\nhimself,\n\n'What a chance for a supper!' and immediately flung his shoes at it,\nthey being ready to hand.  Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the\nshoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.\n\n'What a plague do you mean?' cried he, angrily turning on his\ncompanion.  'Why did you throw your shoes at my head?'\n\n[Illustration:  The second traveler preparing to fling his shoe at the\npartridge]\n\n'Brother!' replied the other mildly, 'do not be vexed.  I didn't throw\nthem at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick.'\n\n'On my stick!  Do you take me for a fool?' shouted the injured man, in\na great rage.  'Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories.  First you\ninsult me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you\nmanners!'\n\nThen he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they\nfought until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses\nwere bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died\nof laughing.\n\n'Are you satisfied?' asked the Partridge of her friend.\n\n'Well,' answered the Jackal, 'you have certainly made me laugh, but I\ndoubt if you could make me cry.  It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it\nis more difficult to excite the higher emotions.'\n\n'Let us see,' retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; 'there is a\nhuntsman with his dogs coming along the road.  Just creep into that\nhollow tree and watch me:  if you don't weep scalding tears, you must\nhave no feeling in you!'\n\nThe Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began\nfluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when\nshe flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden.  Of course\nthe dogs smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching\nthat the huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal\nout by the tail.  Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts'\ncontent, and finally left him for dead.\n\nBy and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the\nPartridge sitting on a branch above him.\n\n'Did you cry?' she asked anxiously.  'Did I rouse your higher emo--'\n\n'Be quiet, will you!' snarled the Jackal; 'I'm half dead with fear!'\n\nSo there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his\nbruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.\n\n'Now is the time for friendship!' said he to the Partridge.  'Get me a\ngood dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend.'\n\n'Very well!' replied the Partridge; 'only watch me, and help yourself\nwhen the time comes.'\n\nJust then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners\nto the harvest-field.\n\nThe Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along\nfrom bush to bush as if she were wounded.\n\n'A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!' cried the women; 'we can easily\ncatch it!'\n\nWhereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a\nthousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they\nput their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly.\nThe Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off\nwith a good dinner.\n\n'Are you satisfied now?' asked the Partridge.\n\n'Well,' returned the Jackal, 'I confess you have given me a very good\ndinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem!  But, after all,\nthe great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my\nlife!'\n\n'Perhaps not,' acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, 'I am so small and\nweak.  But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long\nway round by the ford, let us go across the river.  My friend the\ncrocodile will carry us over.'\n\nAccordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly\nconsented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he\nferried them over.  But just as they were in the middle of the stream\nthe Partridge remarked, 'I believe the crocodile intends to play us a\ntrick.  How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!'\n\n'Awkward for you too!' replied the Jackal, turning pale.\n\n'Not at all! not at all!  I have wings, you haven't.'\n\nOn this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the\ncrocodile, in a gruesome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted\na good meal, the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.\n\n'Pooh!' cried the Partridge airily, 'don't try tricks on _us_,--I\nshould fly away, and as for my friend the Jackal, you couldn't hurt\n_him_.  He is not such a fool as to take his life with him on\nthese little excursions; he leaves it at home, locked up in the\ncupboard.'\n\n'Is that a fact?' asked the crocodile, surprised.\n\n'Certainly!' retorted the Partridge.  'Try to eat him if you like, but\nyou will only tire yourself to no purpose.'\n\n'Dear me! how very odd!' gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken\naback that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.\n\n'Well, are you satisfied now?' asked the Partridge.\n\n'My dear madam!' quoth the Jackal, 'you have made me laugh, you have\nmade me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my\nlife; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend; so,\ngood-bye!'\n\nAnd the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNAKE-WOMAN AND KING ALI MARDAN\n\n\nOnce upon a time King Ali Mardan went out a-hunting, and as he hunted\nin the forest above the beautiful Dal lake, which stretches clear and\nplacid between the mountains and the royal town of Srinagar, he came\nsuddenly on a maiden, lovely as a flower, who, seated beneath a tree,\nwas weeping bitterly.  Bidding his followers remain at a distance, he\nwent up to the damsel, and asked her who she was, and how she came to\nbe alone in the wild forest.\n\n'O great King,' she answered, looking up in his face, 'I am the\nEmperor of China's handmaiden, and as I wandered about in the\npleasure-grounds of his palace I lost my way.  I know not how far I\nhave come since, but now I must surely die, for I am weary and\nhungry!'\n\n'So fair a maiden must not die while Ali Mardan can deliver her,'\nquoth the monarch, gazing ardently on the beautiful girl.  So he bade\nhis servants convey her with the greatest care to his summer palace in\nthe Shalimar gardens, where the fountains scatter dewdrops over the\nbeds of flowers, and laden fruit-trees bend over the marble\ncolonnades.  And there, amid the flowers and sunshine, she lived with\nthe King, who speedily became so enamoured of her that he forgot\neverything else in the world.\n\nSo the days passed until it chanced that a J\u00f4gi's servant, coming back\nfrom the holy lake Gangabal, which lies on the snowy peak of Haramukh,\nwhither he went every year to draw water for his master, passed by the\ngardens; and over the high garden wall he saw the tops of the\nfountains, leaping and splashing like silver sunshine.  He was so\nastonished at the sight that he put his vessel of water on the ground,\nand climbed over the wall, determined to see the wonderful things\ninside.  Once in the garden amid the fountains and flowers, he\nwandered hither and thither, bewildered by beauty, until, wearied out\nby excitement, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.\n\nNow the King, coming to walk in the garden, found the man lying there,\nand noticed that he held something fast in his closed right hand.\nStooping down, Ali Mardan gently loosed the fingers, and discovered a\ntiny box filled with a sweet-smelling ointment.  While he was\nexamining this more closely, the sleeper awoke, and missing his box,\nbegan to weep and wail; whereupon the King bade him be comforted, and\nshowing him the box, promised to return it if he would faithfully tell\nwhy it was so precious to him.\n\n'O great King,' replied the J\u00f4gi's servant, 'the box belongs to my\nmaster, and it contains a holy ointment of many virtues.  By its power\nI am preserved from all harm, and am able to go to Gangabal and return\nwith my jar full of water in so short a time that my master is never\nwithout the sacred element.'\n\nThen the King was astonished, and, looking at the man keenly, said,\n'Tell me the truth!  Is your master indeed such a holy saint?  Is he\nindeed such a wonderful man?'\n\n'O King,' replied the servant, 'he is indeed such a man, and there is\nnothing in the world he does not know!'\n\nThis reply aroused the King's curiosity, and putting the box in his\nvest, he said to the servant, 'Go home to your master, and tell him\nKing Ali Mardan has his box, and means to keep it until he comes to\nfetch it himself.'  In this way he hoped to entice the holy J\u00f4gi into\nhis presence.\n\nSo the servant, seeing there was nothing else to be done, set off to\nhis master, but he was two years and a half in reaching home, because\nhe had not the precious box with the magical ointment; and all this\ntime Ali Mardan lived with the beautiful stranger in the Shalimar\npalace, and forgot everything in the wide world except her\nloveliness.  Yet he was not happy, and a strange look came over his\nface, and a stony stare into his eyes.\n\nNow, when the servant reached home at last, and told his master what\nhad occurred, the J\u00f4gi was very angry, but as he could not get on\nwithout the box which enabled him to procure the water from Gangabal,\nhe set off at once to the court of King Ali Mardan.  On his arrival,\nthe King treated him with the greatest honour, and faithfully\nfulfilled the promise of returning the box.\n\nNow the J\u00f4gi was indeed a learned man, and when he saw the King he\nknew at once all was not right, so he said, 'O King, you have been\ngracious unto me, and I in my turn desire to do you a kind action; so\ntell me truly,--have you always had that white scared face and those\nstony eyes?'\n\nThe King hung his head.\n\n'Tell me truly,' continued the holy J\u00f4gi, 'have you any strange woman\nin your palace?'\n\nThen Ali Mardan, feeling a strange relief in speaking, told the J\u00f4gi\nabout the finding of the maiden, so lovely and forlorn, in the forest.\n\n'She is no handmaiden of the Emperor of China--she is no woman!'\nquoth the J\u00f4gi fearlessly; 'she is nothing but a Lamia--the dreadful\ntwo-hundred-years-old snake which has the power of taking woman's\nshape!'\n\nHearing this, King Ali Mardan was at first indignant, for he was madly\nin love with the stranger; but when the J\u00f4gi insisted, he became\nalarmed, and at last promised to obey the holy man's orders, and so\ndiscover the truth or falsehood of his words.\n\nTherefore, that same evening he ordered two kinds of _khichr\u00ee_ to\nbe made ready for supper, and placed in one dish, so that one half was\nsweet _khichr\u00ee_, and the other half salt.\n\nNow, when as usual the King sat down to eat out of the same dish with\nthe Snake-woman, he turned the salt side towards her and the sweet\nside towards himself.\n\nShe found her portion very salt, but, seeing the King eat his with\nrelish and without remark, finished hers in silence.  But when they\nhad retired to rest, and the King, obeying the J\u00f4gi's orders, had\nfeigned sleep, the Snake-woman became so dreadfully thirsty, in\nconsequence of all the salt food she had eaten, that she longed for a\ndrink of water; and as there was none in the room, she was obliged to\ngo outside to get some.\n\nNow, if a Snake-woman goes out at night, she must resume her own\nloathsome form; so, as King Ali Mardan lay feigning sleep, he saw the\nbeautiful form in his arms change to a deadly slimy snake, that slid\nfrom the bed out of the door into the garden.  He followed it softly,\nwatching it drink of every fountain by the way, until it reached the\nDal lake, where it drank and bathed for hours.\n\nFully satisfied of the truth of the J\u00f4gi's story, King Ali Mardan\nbegged him for aid in getting rid of the beautiful horror.  This the\nJ\u00f4gi promised to do, if the King would faithfully obey orders.  So\nthey made an oven of a hundred different kinds of metal melted\ntogether, and closed by a strong lid and a heavy padlock.  This they\nplaced in a shady corner of the garden, fastening it securely to the\nground by strong chains.  When all was ready, the King said to the\nSnake-woman, 'My heart's beloved! let us wander in the gardens alone\nto-day, and amuse ourselves by cooking our own food,'\n\nShe, nothing loath, consented, and so they wandered about in the\ngarden; and when dinner-time came, set to work, with laughter and\nmirth, to cook their own food.\n\nThe King heated the oven very hot, and kneaded the bread, but being\nclumsy at it, he told the Snake-woman he could do no more, and that\nshe must bake the bread.  This she at first refused to do, saying that\nshe disliked ovens, but when the King pretended to be vexed, averring\nshe could not love him since she refused to help, she gave in, and set\nto work with a very bad grace to tend the baking.\n\nThen, just as she stooped over the oven's mouth, to turn the loaves,\nthe King, seizing his opportunity, pushed her in, and clapping down\nthe cover, locked and double-locked it.\n\n[Illustration:  Snake-woman in the oven]\n\nNow, when the Snake-woman found herself caught in the scorching oven,\nshe bounded so, that had it not been for the strong chains, she would\nhave bounded out of the garden, oven and all!  But as it was, all she\ncould do was to bound up and down, whilst the King and the J\u00f4gi piled\nfuel on to the fire, and the oven grew hotter and hotter.  So it went\non from four o'clock one afternoon to four o'clock the next, when the\nSnake-woman ceased to bound, and all was quiet.\n\nThey waited until the oven grew cold, and then opened it, when not a\ntrace of the Snake-woman was to be seen, only a tiny heap of ashes,\nout of which the J\u00f4gi took a small round stone, and gave it to the\nKing, saying, 'This is the real essence of the Snake-woman, and\nwhatever you touch with it will turn to gold.'\n\nBut King Ali Mardan said such a treasure was more than any man's life\nwas worth, since it must bring envy and battle and murder to its\npossessor; so when he went to Attock he threw the magical Snake-stone\ninto the river, lest it should bring strife into the world.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WONDERFUL RING\n\n\n_Once_ upon a time there lived a King who had two sons, and when\nhe died he left them all his treasures; but the younger brother began\nto squander it all so lavishly that the elder said, 'Let us divide\nwhat there is, and do you take your own share, and do what you please\nwith it.'\n\nSo the younger took his poition, and spent every farthing of it in no\ntime.\n\nWhen he had literally nothing left, he asked his wife to give him what\nshe had.  Then she wept, saying, 'I have nothing left but one small\npiece of jewellery; however, take that also if you want it.'\n\nSo he took the jewel, sold it for four pounds, and taking the money\nwith him, set off to make his fortune in the world.\n\nAs he went on his way he met a man with a cat\n'How much for your cat?' asked the spendthrift\nPrince.\n\n'Nothing less than a golden pound/ replied the man.\n\n'A bargain indeed!' cried the spendthrift, and immediately bought the\ncat for a golden sovereign.\n\nBy and by he met a man with a dog, and called out as before, 'How much\nfor your dog?'  And when the man said not less than a golden pound,\nthe Prince again declared it was a bargain indeed, and bought it\ncheerfully.\n\nThen he met a man carrying a parrot, and called out as before, 'How\nmuch for the parrot?'  And when he heard it was only a golden\nsovereign he was delighted, saying once more that was a bargain\nindeed.\n\nHe had only one pound left.  Yet even then, when he met a J\u00f4gi\ncarrying a serpent, he cried out at once, 'O J\u00f4gi, how much for the\nsnake?'\n\n'Not a farthing less than a golden sovereign,' quoth the J\u00f4gi.\n\n'And very little, too!' cried the spendthrift, handing over his last\ncoin.\n\nSo there he was, possessed of a cat, a dog, a parrot, and a snake, but\nnot a single penny in his pocket.  However, he set to work bravely to\nearn his living; but the hard labour wearied him dreadfully, for being\na Prince he was not used to it.  Now when his serpent saw this, it\npitied its kind master, and said, 'Prince, if you are not afraid to\ncome to my father's house, he will perhaps give you something for\nsaving me from the J\u00f4gi.'  The spendthrift Prince was not a bit afraid\nof anything, so he and the serpent set off together, but when they\narrived at the house, the snake bade the Prince wait outside, while it\nwent in alone and prepared the snake-father for a visitor.  When the\nsnake-father heard what the serpent had to say, he was much pleased,\ndeclaring he would reward the Prince by giving him anything he\ndesired.  So the serpent went out to fetch the Prince into the\nsnake-father's presence, and when doing so, it whispered in his ear,\n'My father will give you anything you desire.  Remember only to ask\nfor his little ring as a keepsake.'\n\nThis rather astonished the Prince, who naturally thought a ring would\nbe of little use to a man who was half starving; however, he did as he\nwas bid, and when the snake-father asked him what he desired, he\nreplied, 'Thank you; I have everything, and want for nothing.'\n\nThen the snake-father asked him once more what he would take as a\nreward, but again he answered that he wanted nothing, having all that\nheart could desire.\n\nNevertheless, when the snake-father asked him the third time, he\nreplied, 'Since you wish me to take something, let it be the ring you\nwear on your finger, as a keepsake.'\n\nThen the snake-father frowned, and looked displeased, saying, 'Were it\nnot for my promise, I would have turned you into ashes on the spot,\nfor daring to ask for my greatest treasure.  But as I have said, it\nmust be.  Take the ring, and go!'\n\nSo the Prince, taking the ring, set off homewards with his servant the\nserpent, to whom he said regretfully, 'This old ring is a mistake; I\nhave only made the snake-father angry by asking for it, and much good\nit will do me!  It would have been wiser to say a sack of gold.'\n\n'Not so, my Prince!' replied the serpent; 'that ring is a wonderful\nring!  You have only to make a clean square place on the ground,\nplaster it over according to the custom of holy places, put the ring\nin the centre, sprinkle it with buttermilk, and then whatever you wish\nfor will be granted immediately.'\n\nVastly delighted at possessing so great a treasure as this magic ring,\nthe Prince went on his way rejoicing, but by and by, as he trudged\nalong the road, he began to feel hungry, and thought he would put his\nring to the test.  So, making a holy place, he put the ring in the\ncentre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, I want some\nsweetmeats for dinner!'\n\nNo sooner had he uttered the words, than a dishful of most delicious\nsweets appeared on the holy place.  These he ate, and then set off to\na city he saw in the distance.\n\nAs he entered the gate a proclamation was being made that any one who\nwould build a palace of gold, with golden stairs, in the middle of the\nsea, in the course of one night, should have half the kingdom, and the\nKing's daughter in marriage; but if he failed, instant death should be\nhis portion.\n\nHearing this, the spendthrift Prince went at once to the Court and\ndeclared his readiness to fulfil the conditions.\n\nThe King was much surprised at his temerity, and bade him consider\nwell what he was doing, telling him that many princes had tried to\nperform the task before, and showing him a necklace of their heads, in\nhopes that the dreadful sight might deter him from his purpose.\n\nBut the Prince merely replied that he was not afraid, and that he was\ncertain he should succeed.\n\nWhereupon the King ordered him to build the palace that very night,\nand setting a guard over him, bade the sentries be careful the young\nboaster did not run away.  Now when evening came, the Prince lay down\ncalmly to sleep, whereat the guard whispered amongst themselves that\nhe must be a madman to fling away his life so uselessly.\nNevertheless, with the first streak of dawn the Prince arose, and\nmaking a holy place, laid the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with\nbuttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, I want a palace of gold, with golden\nstairs, in the midst of the sea!'\n\nAnd lo! there in the sea it stood, all glittering in the sunshine.\nSeeing this, the guard ran to tell the King, who could scarcely\nbelieve his eyes when he and all his Court came to the spot and beheld\nthe golden palace.\n\nNevertheless, as the Prince had fulfilled his promise, the King\nperformed his, and gave his daughter in marriage, and half his\nkingdom, to the spendthrift.\n\n'I don't want your kingdom, or your daughter either!' said the\nPrince.  'I will take the palace I have built in the sea as my\nreward.'\n\nSo he went to dwell there, but when they sent the Princess to him, he\nrelented, seeing her beauty; and so they were married and lived very\nhappily together.\n\nNow, when the Prince went out a-hunting he took his dog with him, but\nhe left the cat and the parrot in the palace, to amuse the Princess;\nnevertheless, one day, when he returned, he found her very sad and\nsorrowful, and when he begged her to tell him what was the matter, she\nsaid, 'O dear Prince, I wish to be turned into gold by the power of\nthe magic ring by which you built this glittering golden palace.'\n\nSo, to please her, he made a holy place, put the ring in the centre,\nsprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, turn my wife into\ngold!'\n\nNo sooner had he said the words than his wish was accomplished, and\nhis wife became a golden Princess.\n\nNow, when the golden Princess was washing her beautiful golden hair\none day, two long glittering hairs came out in the comb.  She looked\nat them, regretting that there were no poor people near to whom she\nmight have given the golden strands; then, determining they should not\nbe lost, she made a cup of green leaves, and curling the hairs inside\nit, set it afloat upon the sea.\n\nAs luck would have it, after drifting hither and thither, it reached a\ndistant shore where a washerman was at work.  The poor man, seeing the\nwonderful gold hairs, took them to the King, hoping for a reward; and\nthe King in his turn showed them to his son, who was so much struck by\nthe sight that he lay down on a dirty old bed, to mark his extreme\ngrief and despair, and, refusing to eat or drink anything, swore he\nmust marry the owner of the beautiful golden hair, or die.\n\nThe King, greatly distressed at his son's state, cast about how he\nshould find the golden-haired Princess, and after calling his\nministers and nobles to help him, came to the conclusion that it would\nbe best to employ a wise woman.  So he called the wisest woman in the\nland to him, and she promised to find the Princess, on condition of\nthe King, in his turn, promising to give her anything she desired as a\nreward.\n\nThen the wise woman caused a golden barge to be made, and in the barge\na silken cradle swinging from silken ropes.  When all was ready, she\nset off in the direction whence the leafy cup had come, taking with\nher four boatmen, whom she trained carefully always to stop rowing\nwhen she put up her finger, and go on as long as she kept it down.\n\nAfter a long while they came in sight of the golden palace, which the\nwise woman guessed at once must belong to the golden Princess; so,\nputting up her finger, the boatmen ceased rowing, and the wise woman,\nstepping out of the boat, went swiftly into the palace.  There she saw\nthe golden Princess, sitting on a golden throne; and going up to her,\nshe laid her hands upon the Princess's head, as is the custom when\nrelatives visit each other; afterwards she kissed her and petted her,\nsaying, 'Dearest niece! do you not know me?  I am your aunt.'\n\nBut the Princess at first drew back, and said she had never seen or\nheard of such an aunt.  Then the wise woman explained how she had left\nhome years before, and made up such a cunning, plausible story that\nthe Princess, who was only too glad to get a companion, really\nbelieved what she said, and invited her to stop a few days in the\npalace.\n\nNow, as they sat talking together, the wise woman asked the Princess\nif she did not find it dull alone in the palace in the midst of the\nsea, and inquired how they managed to live there without servants, and\nhow the Prince her husband came and went.  Then the Princess told her\nabout the wonderful ring the Prince wore day and night, and how by its\nhelp they had everything heart could desire.\n\nOn this, the pretended aunt looked very grave, and suggested the\nterrible plight in which the Princess would be left should the Prince\ncome to harm while away from her.  She spoke so earnestly that the\nPrincess became quite alarmed, and the same evening, when her husband\nreturned, she said to him, 'Husband, I wish you would give me the ring\nto keep while you are away a-hunting, for if you were to come to harm,\nwhat would become of me alone in this sea-girt palace?'\n\nSo, next morning, when the Prince went a-hunting, he left the magical\nring in his wife's keeping.\n\nAs soon as the wicked wise woman knew that the ring was really in the\npossession of the Princess, she persuaded her to go down the golden\nstairs to the sea, and look at the golden boat with the silken cradle;\nso, by coaxing words and cunning arts the golden Princess was\ninveigled into the boat, in order to have a tiny sail on the sea; but\nno sooner was her prize safe in the silken cradle, than the pretended\naunt turned down her finger, and the boatmen immediately began to row\nswiftly away.\n\nSoon the Princess begged to be taken back, but the wise woman only\nlaughed, and answered all the poor girl's tears and prayers with slaps\nand harsh words.  At last they arrived at the royal city, where great\nrejoicings arose when the news was noised abroad that the wise woman\nhad returned with the golden bride for the love-sick Prince.\nNevertheless, despite all entreaties, the Princess refused even to\nlook at the Prince for six months; if in that time, she said, her\nhusband did not claim her, she might think of marriage, but until then\nshe would not hear of it.\n\nTo this the Prince agreed, seeing that six months was not a very long\ntime to wait; besides, he knew that even should her husband or any\nother guardian turn up, nothing was easier than to kill them, and so\nget rid both of them and their claims.\n\nMeanwhile, the spendthrift Prince having returned from hunting, called\nout as usual to his wife on reaching the golden stairs, but received\nno answer; then, entering the palace, he found no one there save the\nparrot, which flew towards him and said, 'O master, the Princess's\naunt came here, and has carried her off in a golden boat.'\n\nHearing this, the poor Prince fell to the ground in a fit, and would\nnot be consoled.  At last, however, he recovered a little, when the\nparrot, to comfort him, bade him wait there while it flew away over\nthe sea to gather news of the lost bride.\n\nSo the faithful parrot flew from land to land, from city to city, from\nhouse to house, until it saw the glitter of the Princess's golden\nhair.  Then it fluttered down beside her and bidding her be of good\ncourage, for it had come to help her, asked for the magic ring.\nWhereupon the golden Princess wept more than ever, for she knew the\nwise woman kept the ring in her mouth day and night, and that none\ncould take it from her.\n\nHowever, when the parrot consulted the cat, which had accompanied the\nfaithful bird, the crafty creature declared nothing could be easier.\n\n'All the Princess has to do,' said the cat, 'is to ask the wise woman\nto give her rice for supper tonight, and instead of eating it all, she\nmust scatter some in front of the rat-hole in her room.  The rest is\nmy business, and yours.'\n\nSo that night the Princess had rice for supper, and instead of eating\nit all, she scattered some before the rat-hole.  Then she went to bed,\nand slept soundly, and the wise woman snored beside her.  By and by,\nwhen all was quiet, the rats came out to eat up the rice, when the\ncat, with one bound, pounced on the one which had the longest tail,\nand carrying it to where the wise woman lay snoring with her mouth\nopen, thrust the tail up her nose.  She woke with a most terrific\nsneeze, and the ring flew out of her mouth on to the floor.  Before\nshe could turn, the parrot seized it in his beak, and, without pausing\na moment, flew back with it to his master the spendthrift Prince, who\nhad nothing to do but make a holy place, lay the ring in the centre,\nsprinkle it with buttermilk, and say, 'O ring, I want my wife!' and\nthere she was, as beautiful as ever, and overjoyed at seeing the\ngolden palace and her dear husband once more.\n\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE PEA-HEN\n\n\nOnce upon a time a Jackal and a Pea-hen swore eternal friendship.\nEvery day they had their meals together, and spent hours in pleasant\nconversation.\n\nNow, one day, the Pea-hen had juicy plums for dinner, and the Jackal,\nfor his part, had as juicy a young kid; so they enjoyed themselves\nimmensely.  But when the feast was over, the Pea-hen rose gravely,\nand, after scratching up the ground, carefully sowed all the\nplum-stones in a row.\n\n'It is my custom to do so when I eat plums,' she said, with quite an\naggravating air of complacent virtue; 'my mother, good creature,\nbrought me up in excellent habits, and with her dying breath bade me\nnever be wasteful.  Now these stones will grow into trees, the fruit\nof which, even if I do not live to see the day, will afford a meal to\nmany a hungry peacock.'\n\nThese words made the Jackal feel rather mean, so he answered loftily,\n'Exactly so!  I always plant my bones for the same reason.'  And he\ncarefully dug up a piece of ground, and sowed the bones of the kid at\nintervals.\n\nAfter this, the pair used to come every day and look at their gardens;\nby and by the plum-stones shot into tender green stems, but the bones\nmade never a sign.\n\n'Bones do take a long time germinating,' remarked the Jackal,\npretending to be quite at his ease; 'I have known them remain\nunchanged in the ground for months.'\n\n'My dear sir,' answered the Pea-hen, with ill-concealed irony,\n'_I_ have known them remain so for _years_!'\n\nSo time passed on, and every day, when they visited the garden, the\nself-complacent Pea-hen became more and more sarcastic, the Jackal\nmore and more savage.\n\nAt last the plum-trees blossomed and bore fruit, and the Pea-hen sat\ndown to a perfect feast of ripe juicy plums.\n\n'He! he!' sniggered she to the Jackal, who, having been unsuccessful\nin hunting that day, stood by dinnerless, hungry, and in consequence\nvery cross; 'what a time those old bones of yours do take in coming\nup!  But when they do, my! what a crop you'll have!'\n\nThe Jackal was bursting with rage, but she wouldn't take warning, and\nwent on:  'Poor dear! you do look hungry!  There seems some chance of\nyour starving before harvest.  What a pity it is you can't eat plums\nin the meantime!'\n\n'If I can't eat plums, I can eat the plum-eater!' quoth the Jackal;\nand with that he pounced on the Pea-hen, and gobbled her up.\n\n_Moral_--It is never safe to be wiser than one's friends.\n\n[Illustration:  It is never safe to be wiser than ones friends. ]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GRAIN OF CORN\n\n\nOnce upon a time a farmer's wife was winnowing corn, when a crow,\nflying past, swooped off with a grain from the winnowing basket and\nperched on a tree close by to eat it.  The farmer's wife, greatly\nenraged, flung a clod at the bird with so good an aim that the crow\nfell to the ground, dropping the grain of corn, which rolled into a\ncrack in the tree.  The farmer's wife, seeing the crow fall, ran up to\nit, and seizing it by the tail, cried, 'Give me back my grain of corn,\nor I will kill you!'\n\nThe wretched bird, in fear of death, promised to do so, but, lo and\nbehold! when he came to search for the grain, it had rolled so far\ninto the crack that neither by beak nor claw could he reach it.\n\nSo he flew off to a woodman, and said--\n\n  'Man! man! cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the woodman refused to cut the tree; so the crow flew on to the\nKing's palace, and said--\n\n  'King! king! kill man;\n  Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn.\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the King refused to kill the man; so the crow flew on to the\nQueen, and said--\n\n    'Queen!  Queen! coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the Queen refused to coax the King; so the crow flew on till he\nmet a snake, and said--\n\n    'Snake! snake! bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the snake refused to bite the Queen; so the crow flew on till he\nmet a stick, and said--\n\n    'Stick! stick! beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the stick refused to beat the snake; so the crow flew on till he\nsaw a fire, and said--\n\n    'Fire! fire! burn stick;\n    Stick won't beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the fire refused to burn the stick; so the crow flew on till he\nmet some water, and said--\n\n    'Water! water! quench fire;\n    Fire won't burn stick;\n    Stick won't beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the water refused to quench the fire; so the crow flew on till he\nmet an ox, and said--\n\n    'Ox! ox! drink water;\n    Water won't quench fire;\n    Fire won't burn stick;\n    Stick won't beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the ox refused to drink the water; so the crow flew on till he met\na rope, and said--\n\n    'Rope! rope! bind ox;\n    Ox won't drink water;\n    Water won't quench fire;\n    Fire won't burn stick;\n    Stick won't beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the rope wouldn't bind the ox; so the crow flew on till he met a\nmouse, and said--\n\n    'Mouse! mouse! gnaw rope;\n    Rope won't bind ox;\n    Ox won't drink water;\n    Water won't quench fire;\n    Fire won't burn stick;\n    Stick won't beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nBut the mouse wouldn't gnaw the rope; so the crow flew on until he met\na cat, and said--\n\n    'Cat! cat! catch mouse;\n    Mouse won't gnaw rope;\n    Rope won't bind ox;\n    Ox won't drink water;\n    Water won't quench fire;\n    Fire won't burn stick;\n    Stick won't beat snake;\n    Snake won't bite Queen;\n    Queen won't coax King;\n    King won't kill man;\n    Man won't cut tree;\n  And I can't get the grain of corn\n  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'\n\nThe moment the cat heard the name of mouse, she was after it; for the\nworld will come to an end before a cat will leave a mouse alone.\n\n    'So the cat began to catch the mouse,\n    The mouse began to gnaw the rope,\n    The rope began to bind the ox,\n    The ox began to drink the water,\n    The water began to quench the fire,\n    The fire began to burn the stick,\n    The stick began to beat the snake,\n    The snake began to bite the Queen,\n    The Queen began to coax the King,\n    The King began to kill the man,\n    The man began to cut the tree;\n  So the crow got the grain of corn,\n  And saved his life from the farmer's wife!'\n\n\n\n\nTHE FARMER AND THE MONEY-LENDER\n\n\nThere was once a farmer who suffered much at the hands of a\nmoney-lender.  Good harvests, or bad, the farmer was always poor, the\nmoneylender rich.  At last, when he hadn't a farthing left, the farmer\nwent to the moneylender's house, and said, 'You can't squeeze water\nfrom a stone, and as you have nothing to get by me now, you might tell\nme the secret of becoming rich.'\n\n'My friend,' returned the money-lender piously, 'riches come from\nRam--ask _him_.'\n\n'Thank you, I will!' replied the simple farmer; so he prepared three\ngirdle-cakes to last him on the journey, and set out to find Ram.\n\nFirst he met a Br\u00e2hman, and to him he gave a cake, asking him to point\nout the road to Ram; but the Br\u00e2hman only took the cake and went on\nhis way without a word.  Next the farmer met a J\u00f4gi or devotee, and to\nhim he gave a cake, without receiving any help in return.  At last, he\ncame upon a poor man sitting under a tree, and finding out he was\nhungry, the kindly farmer gave him his last cake, and sitting down to\nrest beside him, entered into conversation.\n\n'And where are you going?' asked the poor man at length.\n\n'Oh, I have a long journey before me, for I am going to find Ram!'\nreplied the farmer.  'I don't suppose you could tell me which way to\ngo?'\n\n'Perhaps I can,' said the poor man, smiling, 'for _I_ am Ram!\nWhat do you want of me?'\n\nThen the farmer told the whole story, and Ram, taking pity on him,\ngave him a conch shell, and showed him how to blow it in a particular\nway, saying, 'Remember! whatever you wish for, you have only to blow\nthe conch that way, and your wish will be fulfilled.  Only have a care\nof that money-lender, for even magic is not proof against their\nwiles!'\n\nThe farmer went back to his village rejoicing.  In fact the\nmoney-lender noticed his high spirits at once, and said to himself,\n'Some good fortune must have befallen the stupid fellow, to make him\nhold his head so jauntily.'  Therefore he went over to the simple\nfarmer's house, and congratulated him on his good fortune, in such\ncunning words, pretending to have heard all about it, that before long\nthe farmer found himself telling the whole story--all except the\nsecret of blowing the conch, for, with all his simplicity, the farmer\nwas not quite such a fool as to tell that.\n\nNevertheless, the money-lender determined to have the conch by hook or\nby crook, and as he was villain enough not to stick at trifles, he\nwaited for a favourable opportunity and stole it.\n\nBut, after nearly bursting himself with blowing the thing in every\nconceivable way, he was obliged to give up the secret as a bad job.\nHowever, being determined to succeed, he went back to the farmer, and\nsaid, 'Now, my friend!  I've got your conch, but I can't use it; you\nhaven't got it, so it's clear you can't use it either.  The matter is\nat a standstill unless we make a bargain.  Now, I promise to give you\nback your conch, and never to interfere with your using it, on one\ncondition, which is this,--whatever you get from it, I am to get\ndouble.'\n\n'Never!' cried the farmer; 'that would be the old business all over\nagain!'\n\n'Not at all!' replied the wily money-lender; 'you will have your\nshare!  Now, don't be a dog in the manger, for if _you_ get all\nyou want, what can it matter to you if _I_ am rich or poor?'\n\nAt last, though it went sorely against the grain to be of any benefit\nto a money-lender, the farmer was forced to yield, and from that time,\nno matter what he gained by the power of the conch, the money-lender\ngained double.  And the knowledge that this was so preyed upon the\nfarmer's mind day and night, until he had no satisfaction out of\nanything he did get.\n\nAt last there came a very dry season,--so dry that the farmer's crops\nwithered for want of rain.  Then he blew his conch, and wished for a\nwell to water them, and, lo! there was the well. _But the\nmoney-lender had two!_--two beautiful new wells!  This was too much\nfor any farmer to stand; and our friend brooded over it, and brooded\nover it, till at last a bright idea came into his head.  He seized the\nconch, blew it loudly, and cried out, 'O Ram, I wish to be blind of\none eye!'  And so he was, in a twinkling, but the money-lender, of\ncourse, was blind of both eyes, and in trying to steer his way between\nthe two new wells, he fell into one and was drowned.\n\nNow this true story shows that a farmer once got the better of a\nmoney-lender; but only by losing one of his eyes!\n\n\n\n\nTHE LORD OF DEATH\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a road, and every one who travelled along\nit died.  Some folk said they were killed by a snake, others said by a\nscorpion, but certain it is they all died.\n\nNow a very old man was travelling along the road, and being tired, sat\ndown on a stone to rest; when suddenly, close beside him, he saw a\nscorpion as big as a cock, which, while he looked at it, changed into\na horrible snake.  He was wonderstruck, and as the creature glided\naway, he determined to follow it at a little distance, and so find out\nwhat it really was.\n\nSo the snake sped on day and night, and behind it followed the old man\nlike a shadow.  Once it went into an inn, and killed several\ntravellers; another time it slid into the King's house and killed\nhim.  Then it crept up the waterspout to the Queen's palace, and\nkilled the King's youngest daughter.  So it passed on, and wherever it\nwent the sound of weeping and wailing arose, and the old man followed\nit, silent as a shadow.\n\nSuddenly the road became a broad, deep, swift river, on the banks of\nwhich sat some poor travellers who longed to cross over, but had no\nmoney to pay the ferry.  Then the snake changed into a handsome\nbuffalo, with a brass necklace and bells round its neck, and stood by\nthe brink of the stream.  When the poor travellers saw this, they\nsaid, 'This beast is going to swim to its home across the river; let\nus get on its back, and hold on to its tail, so that we too shall get\nover the stream.'\n\nThen they climbed on its back and held by its tail, and the buffalo\nswam away with them bravely; but when it reached the middle, it began\nto kick, until they tumbled off, or let go, and were all drowned.\n\nWhen the old man, who had crossed the river in a boat, reached the\nother side, the buffalo had disappeared, and in its stead stood a\nbeautiful ox.  Seeing this handsome creature wandering about, a\npeasant, struck with covetousness, lured it to his home.  It was very\ngentle, suffering itself to be tied up with the other cattle; but in\nthe dead of night it changed into a snake, bit all the flocks and\nherds, and then, creeping into the house, killed all the sleeping\nfolk, and crept away.  But behind it the old man still followed, as\nsilent as a shadow.\n\nPresently they came to another river, where the snake changed itself\ninto the likeness of a beautiful young girl, fair to see, and covered\nwith costly jewels.  After a while, two brothers, soldiers, came by,\nand as they approached the girl, she began to weep bitterly.\n\n'What is the matter?' asked the brothers; 'and why do you, so young\nand beautiful, sit by the river alone?'\n\nThen the snake-girl answered, 'My husband was even now taking me home;\nand going down to the stream to look for the ferry-boat, fell to\nwashing his face, when he slipped in, and was drowned.  So I have\nneither husband nor relations!'\n\n'Do not fear!' cried the elder of the two brothers, who had become\nenamoured of her beauty; 'come with me, and I will marry you.'\n\n'On one condition,' answered the girl:  'you must never ask me to do\nany household work; and no matter for what I ask, you must give it\nme.'\n\n'I will obey you like a slave!' promised the young man.\n\n'Then go at once to the well, and fetch me a cup of water.  Your\nbrother can stay with me,' quoth the girl.\n\nBut when the elder brother had gone, the snake-girl turned to the\nyounger, saying, 'Fly with me, for I love you!  My promise to your\nbrother was a trick to get him away!'\n\n'Not so!' returned the young man; 'you are his promised wife, and I\nlook on you as my sister.'\n\nOn this the girl became angry, weeping and wailing, until the elder\nbrother returned, when she called out, 'O husband, what a villain is\nhere!  Your brother asked me to fly with him, and leave you!'\n\nThen bitter wrath at this treachery arose in the elder brother's\nheart, so that he drew his sword and challenged the younger to\nbattle.  Then they fought all day long, until by evening they both lay\ndead upon the field, and then the girl took the form of a snake once\nmore, and behind it followed the old man silent as a shadow.  But at\nlast it changed into the likeness of an old white-bearded man, and\nwhen he who had followed so long saw one like himself, he took\ncourage, and laying hold of the white beard, asked, 'Who and what are\nyou?'\n\nThen the old man smiled and answered, 'Some call me the Lord of Death,\nbecause I go about bringing death to the world.'\n\n'Give me death!' pleaded the other, 'for I have followed you far,\nsilent as a shadow, and I am aweary.'\n\nBut the Lord of Death shook his head, saying, 'Not so!  I only give to\nthose whose years are full, and you have sixty years of life to come!'\n\nThen the old white-bearded man vanished, but whether he really was the\nLord of Death, or a devil, who can tell?\n\n\n\n\nTHE WRESTLERS\n\nA STORY OF HEROES\n\n\nThere was, once upon a time, long ago, a wrestler living in a far\ncountry, who, hearing there was a mighty man in India, determined to\nhave a fall with him; so, tying up ten thousand pounds weight of flour\nin his blanket, he put the bundle on his head and set off jauntily.\nTowards evening he came to a little pond in the middle of the desert,\nand sat down to eat his dinner.  First, he stooped down and took a\ngood long drink of the water; then, emptying his flour into the\nremainder of the pond, stirred it into good thick brose, off which he\nmade a hearty meal, and lying down under a tree, soon fell fast\nasleep.\n\nNow, for many years an elephant had drunk daily at the pond, and,\ncoming as usual that evening for its draught, was surprised to find\nnothing but a little mud and flour at the bottom.\n\n'What shall I do?' it said to itself, 'for there is no more water to\nbe found for twenty miles!'\n\nGoing away disconsolate, it espied the wrestler sleeping placidly\nunder the tree, and at once made sure he was the author of the\nmischief; so, galloping up to the sleeping man, it stamped on his head\nin a furious rage, determined to crush him.\n\nBut, to his astonishment, the wrestler only stirred a little, and said\nsleepily, 'What is the matter? what is the matter?  If you want to\nshampoo my head, why the plague don't you do it properly?  What's\nworth doing at all is worth doing well; so put a little of your weight\ninto it, my friend!'\n\nThe elephant stared, and left off stamping; but, nothing daunted,\nseized the wrestler round the waist with its trunk, intending to heave\nhim up and dash him to pieces on the ground.  'Ho! ho! my little\nfriend!--that is your plan, is it?' quoth the wrestler, with a yawn;\nand catching hold of the elephant's tail, and swinging the monster\nover his shoulder, he continued his journey jauntily.\n\nBy and by he reached his destination, and, standing outside the Indian\nwrestler's house, cried out, 'Ho! my friend!  Come out and try a\nfall!'\n\n'My husband's not at home to-day,' answered the wrestler's wife from\ninside; 'he has gone into the wood to cut pea-sticks.'\n\n'Well, well! when he returns give him this, with my compliments, and\ntell him the owner has come from far to challenge him.'\n\nSo saying, he chucked the elephant clean over the courtyard wall.\n\n'Oh, mamma! mamma!' cried a treble voice from within, 'I declare that\nnasty man has thrown a mouse over the wall into my lap!  What shall I\ndo to him?'\n\n'Never mind, little daughter!' answered the wrestler's wife; 'papa\nwill teach him better manners.  Take the grass broom and sweep the\nmouse away.'\n\nThen there was a sound of sweeping, and immediately the dead elephant\ncame flying over the wall.\n\n'Ahem!' thought the wrestler outside, 'if the little daughter can do\nthis, the father will be a worthy foe!'\n\nSo he set off to the wood to meet the Indian wrestler, whom he soon\nsaw coming along the road, dragging a hundred and sixty carts laden\nwith brushwood.\n\n'Now we shall see!' quoth the stranger, with a wink; and stealing\nbehind the carts, he laid hold of the last, and began to pull.\n\n'That's a deep rut!' thought the Indian wrestler, and pulled a little\nharder.  So it went on for an hour, but not an inch one way or the\nother did the carts budge.\n\n'I believe there is some one hanging on behind!' quoth the Indian\nwrestler at last, and walked back to see who it was.  Whereupon the\nstranger, coming to meet him, said, 'We seem pretty well matched; let\nus have a fall together.'\n\n'With all my heart!' answered the other, 'but not here alone in the\nwilds; it is no fun fighting without applause.'\n\n'But I haven't time to wait!' said the stranger; 'I have to be off at\nonce, so it must be here or nowhere.'\n\nJust then an old woman came hurrying by with big strides.\n\n'Here's an audience!' cried the wrestler, and called aloud, 'Mother!\nmother! stop and see fair play!'\n\n'I can't, my sons, I can't!' she replied, 'for my daughter is going to\nsteal my camels, and I am off to stop her; but if you like, you can\njump on to the palm of my hand, and wrestle there as I go along.'\n\nSo the wrestlers jumped on to the old woman's palm, and wrestled away\nas she strode over hill and dale.\n\nNow when the old woman's daughter saw her mother, with the wrestlers\nwrestling on her hand, she said to herself, 'Here she comes, with the\nsoldiers she spoke about!  It is time for me to be off!'\n\nSo she picked up the hundred and sixty camels, tied them in her\nblanket, and swinging it over her shoulder, set off at a run.\n\nBut one of the camels put its head out of the blanket and began\ngroaning and hubble-bubble-ubbling, after the manner of camels; so, to\nquiet it, the girl tore down a tree or two, and stuffed them into the\nbundle also.  On this, the farmer to whom the trees belonged came\nrunning up, and calling, 'Stop thief! stop thief!'\n\n'Thief, indeed!' quoth the girl angrily; and with that she bundled\nfarmer, fields, crops, oxen, house, and all into the blanket.\n\nSoon she came to a town, and being hungry, asked a pastry-cook to give\nher some sweets; but he refused, so she caught up the town bodily; and\nso on with everything she met, until her blanket was quite full.\n\nAt last she came to a big water-melon, and being thirsty, she sat down\nto eat it; and afterwards, feeling sleepy, she determined to rest a\nwhile.  But the camels in her bundle made such a hubble-bubble-ubbling\nthat they disturbed her, so she just packed everything into the lower\nhalf of the water-melon rind, and popping on the upper half as a lid,\nshe rolled herself in the blanket and used the melon as a pillow.\n\nNow, while she slept, a big flood arose, and carried off the\nwater-melon, which, after floating down stream ever so far, stuck on a\nmud-bank.  The top fell off, and out hopped the camels, the trees, the\nfarmer, the oxen, the house, the town, and all the other things, until\nthere was quite a new world on the mud-bank in the middle of the\nriver.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF GW\u00c2SHBR\u00c2RI, THE GLACIER-HEARTED QUEEN\n\n\nOnce upon a time, ever so long ago, when this old world was young, and\neverything was very different from what it is nowadays, the mighty\nWestarw\u00e2n was King of all the mountains.  High above all other hills\nhe reared his lofty head, so lofty, that when the summer clouds closed\nin upon his broad shoulders he was alone under the blue sky.  And\nthus, being so far above the world, and so lonely in his dignity, he\nbecame proud, and even when the mists cleared away, leaving the fair\nnew world stretched smiling at his feet, he never turned his eyes upon\nit, but gazed day and night upon the sun and stars.\n\nNow Har\u00e2mukh, and Nang\u00e2 Parbat, and all the other hills that stood in\na vast circle round great Westarw\u00e2n, as courtiers waiting on their\nking, grew vexed because he treated them as nought; and when the\nsummer cloud that soared above their heads hung on his shoulders like\na royal robe, they would say bitter, wrathful words of spite and envy.\n\nOnly the beautiful Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri, cold and glistening amid her glaciers,\nwould keep silence.  Self-satisfied, serene, her beauty was enough for\nher; others might rise farther through the mists, but there was none\nso fair as she in all the land.\n\nYet once, when the cloud-veil wrapped Westarw\u00e2n from sight, and the\nwrath rose loud and fierce, she flashed a contemptuous smile upon the\nrest, bidding them hold their peace.\n\n'What need to wrangle?' she said, in calm superiority;' great\nWestarw\u00e2n is proud; but though the stars seem to crown his head, his\nfeet are of the earth, earthy.  He is made of the same stuff as we\nare; there is more of it, that is all.'\n\n'The more reason to resent his pride!' retorted the grumblers.  'Who\nmade him a King over us?'\n\nGw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri smiled an evil smile.  'O fools! poor fools and blind!\ngiving him a majesty he has not in my sight.  I tell you mighty\nWestarw\u00e2n, for all his star-crowned loftiness, is no King to me.  Tis\nI who am his Queen!'\n\nThen the mighty hills laughed aloud, for Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri was the lowliest\nof them all.\n\n'Wait and see!' answered the cold passionless voice.  'Before\nto-morrow's sunrise great Westarw\u00e2n shall be my slave!'\n\nOnce more the mighty hills echoed with scornful laughter, yet the\nicy-hearted beauty took no heed.  Lovely, serene, she smiled on all\nthrough the long summer's day; only once or twice from her snowy sides\nwould rise a white puff of smoke, showing where some avalanche had\nswept the sure-footed ibex to destruction.\n\nBut with the setting sun a rosy radiance fell over the whole world.\nThen Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri's pale face flushed into life, her chill beauty glowed\ninto passion.  Trans-* figured, glorified, she shone on the\nfast-darkening horizon like a star.\n\nAnd mighty Westarw\u00e2n, noting the rosy radiance in the east, turned his\nproud eyes towards it; and, lo! the perfection of her beauty smote\nupon his senses with a sharp, wistful wonder that such loveliness\ncould be--that such worthiness could exist in the world which he\ndespised.  The setting sun sank lower, reflecting a ruddier glow on\nGw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri's face; it seemed as if she blushed beneath the great\nKing's gaze.  A mighty longing filled his soul, bursting from his lips\nin one passionate cry--'O Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri! kiss me, or I die!'\n\nThe sound echoed through the valleys, while the startled peaks stood\nround expectant.\n\nBeneath her borrowed blush Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri smiled triumphant, as she\nanswered back, 'How can that be, great King, and I so lowly?  Even if\nI _would_, how could I reach your star-crowned head?--I who on\ntip-toe cannot touch your cloud-robed shoulder?'\n\nYet again the passionate cry rang out--'I love you! kiss me, or I\ndie!'\n\nThen the glacier-hearted beauty whispered soft and low, the sweet\nmusic of her voice weaving a magical spell round the great\nWestarw\u00e2n--You love me?  Know you not that those who love must\nstoop?  Bend your proud head to my lips, and seek the kiss I cannot\nchoose but give!'\n\nSlowly, surely, as one under a charm, the monarch of the mountains\nstooped-nearer and nearer to her radiant beauty, forgetful of all else\nin earth or sky.\n\nThe sun set.  The rosy blush faded from Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri's fair false face,\nleaving it cold as ice, pitiless as death.  The stars began to gleam\nin the pale heavens, but the King lay at Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri's feet, discrowned\nfor ever!\n\nAnd that is why great Westarw\u00e2n stretches his long length across the\nvalley of Kashm\u00eer, resting his once lofty head upon the glacier heart\nof Queen Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri.\n\nAnd every night the star crown hangs in the heavens as of yore.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BARBER'S CLEVER WIFE\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a barber, who was such a poor silly\ncreature that he couldn't even ply his trade decently, but snipped off\nhis customers' ears instead of their hair, and cut their throats\ninstead of shaving them.  So of course he grew poorer every day, till\nat last he found himself with nothing left in his house but his wife\nand his razor, both of whom were as sharp as sharp could be.\n\nFor his wife was an exceedingly clever person, who was continually\nrating her husband for his stupidity; and when she saw they hadn't a\nfarthing left, she fell as usual to scolding.\n\nBut the barber took it very calmly.  'What is the use of making such a\nfuss, my dear?' said he; 'you've told me all this before, and I quite\nagree with you.  I never _did_ work, I never _could_ work,\nand I never _will_ work.  That is the fact!'\n\n'Then you must beg!' returned his wife, 'for _I_ will not starve\nto please you!  Go to the palace, and beg something of the King.\nThere is a wedding feast going on, and he is sure to give alms to the\npoor.'\n\n'Very well, my dear!' said the barber submissively.  He was rather\nafraid of his clever wife, so he did as he was bid, and going to the\npalace, begged of the King to give him something.\n\n'Something?' asked the King; 'what thing?'\n\nNow the barber's wife had not mentioned anything in particular, and\nthe barber was far too addle-pated to think of anything by himself, so\nhe answered cautiously, 'Oh, something!'\n\n'Will a piece of land do?' said the King.\n\nWhereupon the lazy barber, glad to be helped out of the difficulty,\nremarked that perhaps a piece of land would do as well as anything\nelse.\n\nThen the King ordered a piece of waste, outside the city, should be\ngiven to the barber, who went home quite satisfied.\n\n'Well! what did you get?' asked the clever wife, who was waiting\nimpatiently for his return.  'Give it me quick, that I may go and buy\nbread!'\n\nAnd you may imagine how she scolded when she found he had only got a\npiece of waste land.\n\n'But land is land!' remonstrated the barber; 'it can't run away, so we\nmust always have something now!'\n\n'Was there ever such a dunderhead?' raged the clever wife.'  What good\nis ground unless we can till it? and where are we to get bullocks and\nploughs?'\n\nBut being, as we have said, an exceedingly clever person, she set her\nwits to work, and soon thought of a plan whereby to make the best of a\nbad bargain.\n\nShe took her husband with her, and set off to the piece of waste land;\nthen, bidding her husband imitate her, she began walking about the\nfield, and peering anxiously into the ground.  But when any-* body\ncame that way, she would sit down, and pretend to be doing nothing at\nall.\n\nNow it so happened that seven thieves were hiding in a thicket hard\nby, and they watched the barber and his wife all day, until they\nbecame convinced something mysterious was going on.  So at sunset they\nsent one of their number to try and find out what it was.\n\n'Well, the fact is,' said the barber's wife, after beating about the\nbush for some-time, and with many injunctions to strict secrecy, 'this\nfield belonged to my grandfather, who buried five pots full of gold in\nit, and we were just trying to discover the exact spot before\nbeginning to dig.  You won't tell any one, will you?'\n\nThe thief promised he wouldn't, of course, but the moment the barber\nand his wife went home, he called his companions, and telling them of\nthe hidden treasure, set them to work.  All night long they dug and\ndelved, till the field looked as if it had been ploughed seven times\nover, and they were as tired as tired could be; but never a gold\npiece, nor a silver piece, nor a farthing did they find, so when dawn\ncame they went away disgusted.\n\nThe barber's wife, when she found the field so beautifully ploughed,\nlaughed heartily at the success of her stratagem, and going to the\ncorn-dealer's shop, borrowed some rice to sow in the field.  This the\ncorn-dealer willingly gave her, for he reckoned he would get it back\nthreefold at harvest time.  And so he did, for never was there such a\ncrop!--the barber's wife paid her debts, kept enough for the house,\nand sold the rest for a great crock of gold pieces.\n\nNow, when the thieves saw this, they were very angry indeed, and going\nto the barber's house, said, 'Give us our share of the harvest, for we\ntilled the ground, as you very well know.'\n\n'I told you there was gold in the ground,' laughed the barber's wife,\n'but you didn't find it.  I have, and there's a crock full of it in\nthe house, only you rascals shall never have a farthing of it!'\n\n'Very well!' said the thieves; 'look out for yourself to-night.  If\nyou won't give us our share we'll take it!'\n\nSo that night one of the thieves hid himself in the house, intending\nto open the door to his comrades when the housefolk were asleep; but\nthe barber's wife saw him with the corner of her eye, and determined\nto lead him a dance.  Therefore, when her husband, who was in a\ndreadful state of alarm, asked her what she had done with the gold\npieces, she replied, 'Put them where no one will find them,--under\nthe sweetmeats, in the crock that stands in the niche by the door.'\n\nThe thief chuckled at hearing this, and after waiting till all was\nquiet, he crept out, and feeling about for the crock, made off with\nit, whispering to his comrades that he had got the prize.  Fearing\npursuit, they fled to a thicket, where they sat down to divide the\nspoil.\n\n'She said there were sweetmeats on the top,' said the thief; 'I will\ndivide them first, and then we can eat them, for it is hungry work,\nthis waiting and watching.'\n\nSo he divided what he thought were the sweetmeats as well as he could\nin the dark.  Now in reality the crock was full of all sorts of\nhorrible things that the barber's wife had put there on purpose, and\nso when the thieves crammed its contents into their mouths, you may\nimagine what faces they made and how they vowed revenge.\n\nBut when they returned next day to threaten and repeat their claim to\na share of the crop, the barber's wife only laughed at them.\n\n'Have a care!' they cried; 'twice you have fooled us--once by making\nus dig all night, and next by feeding us on filth and breaking our\ncaste.  It will be our turn to-night!'\n\nThen another thief hid himself in the house, but the barber's wife saw\nhim with half an eye, and when her husband asked, 'What have you done\nwith the gold, my dear?  I hope you haven't put it under the pillow?'\nshe answered, 'Don't be alarmed; it is out of the house.  I have hung\nit in the branches of the _n\u00eem_ tree outside.  No one will think\nof looking for it there!'\n\nThe hidden thief chuckled, and when the house-folk were asleep he\nslipped out and told his companions.\n\n'Sure enough, there it is!' cried the captain of the band, peering up\ninto the branches.  'One of you go up and fetch it down.'  Now what he\nsaw was really a hornets' nest, full of great big brown and yellow\nhornets.\n\nSo one of the thieves climbed up the tree; but when he came close to\nthe nest, and was just reaching up to take hold of it, a hornet flew\nout and stung him on the thigh.  He immediately clapped his hand to\nthe spot.\n\n'Oh, you thief!' cried out the rest from below, 'you're pocketing the\ngold pieces, are you?  Oh! shabby! shabby!'--For you see it was very\ndark, and when the poor man clapped his hand to the place where he had\nbeen stung, they thought he was putting his hand in his pocket.\n\n'I assure you I'm not doing anything of the kind!' retorted the thief;\n'but there is something that bites in this tree!'\n\nJust at that moment another hornet stung him on the breast, and he\nclapped his hand there.\n\n'Fie! fie for shame!  We saw you do it that time!' cried the rest.\n'Just you stop that at once, or we will make you!'\n\nSo they sent up another thief, but he fared no better, for by this\ntime the hornets were thoroughly roused, and they stung the poor man\nall over, so that he kept clapping his hands here, there, and\neverywhere.\n\n'Shame!  Shabby!  Ssh-sh!' bawled the rest; and then one after another\nthey climbed into the tree, determined to share the booty, and one\nafter another began clapping their hands about their bodies, till it\ncame to the captain's turn.  Then he, intent on having the prize,\nseized hold of the hornets' nest, and as the branch on which they were\nall standing broke at the selfsame moment, they all came tumbling down\nwith the hornets' nest on top of them.  And then, in spite of bumps\nand bruises, you can imagine what a stampede there was!\n\nAfter this the barber's wife had some peace, for every one of the\nseven thieves was in hospital.  In fact, they were laid up for so long\na time that she began to think that they were never coming back again,\nand ceased to be on the look-out.  But she was wrong, for one night,\nwhen she had left the window open, she was awakened by whisperings\noutside, and at once recognised the thieves' voices.  She gave herself\nup for lost; but, determined not to yield without a struggle, she\nseized her husband's razor, crept to the side of the window, and stood\nquite still.  By and by the first thief began to creep through\ncautiously.  She just waited till the tip of his nose was visible, and\nthen, flash!--she sliced it off with the razor as clean as a whistle.\n\n'Confound it!' yelled the thief, drawing back mighty quick; 'I've cut\nmy nose on something!'\n\n'Hush-sh-sh-sh!' whispered the others, 'you'll wake some one.  Go on!'\n\n'Not I!' said the thief; 'I'm bleeding like a pig!'\n\n'Pooh!--knocked your nose against the shutter, I suppose,' returned\nthe second thief.  'I'll go!'\n\nBut, swish!--off went the tip of his nose too.\n\n'Dear me!' said he ruefully, 'there certainly is something sharp\ninside!'\n\n'A bit of bamboo in the lattice, most likely,' remarked the third\nthief.  'I'll go!'\n\nAnd, flick!--off went his nose too.\n\n'It is most extraordinary!' he exclaimed, hurriedly retiring; 'I feel\nexactly as if some one had cut the tip of my nose off!'\n\n'Rubbish!' said the fourth thief.  'What cowards you all are!  Let\n_me_ go!'\n\nBut he fared no better, nor the fifth thief, nor the sixth.\n\n'My friends!'. said the captain, when it came to his turn, 'you are\nall disabled.  One man must remain unhurt to protect the wounded.  Let\nus return another night.'--He was a cautious man, you see, and valued\nhis nose.\n\nSo they crept away sulkily, and the barber's wife lit a lamp, and\ngathering up all the nose tips, put them away safely in a little box.\n\nNow before the robbers' noses were healed over, the hot weather set\nin, and the barber and his wife, finding it warm sleeping in the\nhouse, put their beds outside; for they made sure the thieves would\nnot return.  But they did, and seizing such a good opportunity for\nrevenge, they lifted up the wife's bed, and carried her off fast\nasleep.  She woke to find herself borne along on the heads of four of\nthe thieves, whilst the other three ran beside her.  She gave herself\nup for lost, and though she thought, and thought, and thought, she\ncould find no way of escape; till, as luck would have it, the robbers\npaused to take breath under a banyan tree.  Quick as lightning, she\nseized hold of a branch that was within reach, and swung herself into\nthe tree, leaving her quilt on the bed just as if she were still in\nit.\n\n'Let us rest a bit here,' said the thieves who were carrying the bed;\n'there is plenty of time, and we are tired.  She is dreadfully heavy!'\n\nThe barber's wife could hardly help laughing, but she had to keep very\nstill, for it was a bright moonlight night; and the robbers, after\nsetting down their burden, began to squabble as to who should take\nfirst watch.  At last they determined that it should be the captain,\nfor the others had really barely recovered from the shock of having\ntheir noses sliced off; so they lay down to sleep, while the captain\nwalked up and down, watching the bed, and the barber's wife sat\nperched up in the tree like a great bird.\n\nSuddenly an idea came into her head, and drawing her white veil\nbecomingly over her face, she began to sing softly.  The robber\ncaptain looked up, and saw the veiled figure of a woman in the tree.\nOf course he was a little surprised, but being a goodlooking young\nfellow, and rather vain of his appearance, he jumped at once to the\nconclusion that it was a fairy who had fallen in love with his\nhandsome face.  For fairies do such things sometimes, especially on\nmoonlight nights.  So he twirled his moustaches, and strutted about,\nwaiting for her to speak.  But when she went on singing, and took no\nnotice of him, he stopped and called out, 'Come down, my beauty!  I\nwon't hurt you!'\n\nBut still she went on singing; so he climbed up into the tree,\ndetermined to attract her attention.  When he came quite close, she\nturned away her head and sighed.\n\n'What is the matter, my beauty?' he asked tenderly.  'Of course you\nare a fairy, and have fallen in love with me, but there is nothing to\nsigh at in that, surely?'\n\n'Ah--ah--ah!' said the barber's wife, with another sigh, 'I believe\nyou're fickle!  Men with long-pointed noses always are!'\n\nBut the robber captain swore he was the most constant of men; yet\nstill the fairy sighed and sighed, until he almost wished his nose had\nbeen shortened too.\n\n'You are telling stories, I am sure!' said the pre* tended fairy.\n'Just let me touch your tongue with the tip of mine, and then I shall\nbe able to taste if there are fibs about!'\n\nSo the robber captain put out his tongue, and, snip!--the barber's\nwife bit the tip off clean!\n\nWhat with the fright and the pain, he tumbled off the branch, and fell\nbump on the ground, where he sat with his legs very wide apart,\nlooking as if he had come from the skies.\n\n'What is the matter?' cried his comrades, awakened by the noise of his\nfall.\n\n'_Bul-ul-a-bul-ul-ul!_' answered he, pointing up into the tree;\nfor of course he could not speak plainly without the tip of his\ntongue.\n\n'What--is--the--matter?' they bawled in his ear, as if that would do\nany good.\n\n'_Bul-ul-a-bul-ul-ul!_' said he, still pointing upwards.\n\n'The man is bewitched!' cried one; 'there must be a ghost in the\ntree!'\n\nJust then the barber's wife began flapping her veil and howling;\nwhereupon, without waiting to look, the thieves in a terrible fright\nset off at a run, dragging their leader with them; and the barber's\nwife, coming down from the tree, put her bed on her head, and walked\nquietly home.\n\nAfter this, the thieves came to the conclusion that it was no use\ntrying to gain their point by force, so they went to law to claim\ntheir share.  But the barber's wife pleaded her own cause so well,\nbringing out the nose and tongue tips as witnesses, that the King made\nthe barber his Waz\u00eer, saying, 'He will never do a foolish thing as\nlong as his wife is alive!'\n\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE CROCODILE\n\n\nOnce upon a time, Mr. Jackal was trotting along gaily, when he caught\nsight of a wild plum-tree laden with fruit on the other side of a\nbroad deep stream.  He could not get across anyhow, so he just sat\ndown on the bank, and looked at the ripe luscious fruit until his\nmouth watered with desire.\n\nNow it so happened that, just then, Miss Crocodile came floating down\nstream with her nose in the air.  'Good morning, my dear!' said Mr.\nJackal politely; 'how beautiful you look to-day, and how charmingly\nyou swim!  Now, if I could only swim too, what a fine feast of plums\nwe two friends might have over there together!'  And Mr. Jackal laid\nhis paw on his heart, and sighed.\n\nNow Miss Crocodile had a very inflammable heart, and when Mr. Jackal\nlooked at her so admiringly, and spoke so sentimentally, she simpered\nand blushed, saying, 'Oh!  Mr. Jackal! how can you talk so?  I could\nnever dream of going out to dinner with you, unless--unless--'\n\n'Unless what?' asked the Jackal persuasively.\n\n'Unless we were going to be married!' simpered\nMiss Crocodile.\n\n'And why shouldn't we be married, my charmer?' returned the Jackal\neagerly.  'I would go and fetch the barber to begin the betrothals at\nonce, but I am so faint with hunger just at present that I should\nnever reach the village.  Now, if the most adorable of her sex would\nonly take pity on her slave, and carry me over the stream, I might\nrefresh myself with those plums, and so gain strength to accomplish\nthe ardent desire of my heart!'\n\nHere the Jackal sighed so piteously, and cast such sheep's-eyes at\nMiss Crocodile, that she was unable to withstand him.  So she carried\nhim across to the plum-tree, and then sat on the water's edge to think\nover her wedding dress, while Mr. Jackal feasted on the plums, and\nenjoyed himself.\n\n'Now for the barber, my beauty!' cried the gay Jackal, when he had\neaten as much as he could.  Then the blushing Miss Crocodile carried\nhim back again, and bade him be quick about his business, like a dear\ngood creature, for really she felt so flustered at the very idea that\nshe didn't know what mightn't happen.\n\n'Now, don't distress yourself, my dear!' quoth the deceitful Mr.\nJackal, springing to the bank, 'because it's not impossible that I may\nnot find the barber, and then, you know, you may have to wait some\ntime, a considerable time in fact, before I return.  So don't injure\nyour health for my sake, if you please.'\n\nWith that he blew her a kiss, and trotted away with his tail up.\n\nOf course he never came back, though trusting Miss Crocodile waited\npatiently for him; at last she understood what a gay deceitful fellow\nhe was, and determined to have her revenge on him one way or another.\n\nSo she hid herself in the water, under the roots of a tree, close to a\nford where Mr. Jackal always came to drink.  By and by, sure enough,\nhe came lilting along in a self-satisfied way, and went right into the\nwater for a good long draught.  Whereupon Miss Crocodile seized him by\nthe right leg, and held on.  He guessed at once what had happened, and\ncalled out, 'Oh! my heart's adored!  I'm drowning!  I'm drowning!  If\nyou love me, leave hold of that old root and get a good grip of my\nleg--it is just next door!'\n\nHearing this, Miss Crocodile thought she must have made a mistake,\nand, letting go the Jackal's leg in a hurry, seized an old root close\nby, and held on.  Whereupon Mr. Jackal jumped nimbly to shore, and ran\noff with his tail up, calling out, 'Have a little patience, my\nbeauty!  The barber will come some day!'\n\nBut this time Miss Crocodile knew better than to wait, and being now\ndreadfully angry, she crawled away to the Jackal's hole, and slipping\ninside, lay quiet.\n\nBy and by Mr. Jackal came lilting along with his tail up.\n\n'Ho! ho!  That is your game, is it?' said he to himself, when he saw\nthe trail of the crocodile in the sandy soil.  So he stood outside,\nand said aloud, 'Bless my stars! what has happened?  I don't half like\nto go in, for whenever I come home my wife always calls out,\n\n  '\"Oh, dearest hubby hub!\n  What have you brought for grub\n  To me and the darling cub?\"\n\nand to-day she doesn't say anything!'\n\nHearing this, Miss Crocodile sang out from inside,\n\n  'Oh, dearest hubby hub!\n  What have you brought for grub\n  To me and the darling cub?'\n\nThe Jackal winked a very big wink, and stealing in softly, stood at\nthe doorway.  Meanwhile Miss Crocodile, hearing him coming, held her\nbreath, and lay, shamming dead, like a big log.\n\n'Bless my stars!' cried Mr. Jackal, taking out his\npocket-handkerchief, 'how very very sad!  Here's poor Miss Crocodile\nstone dead, and all for love of me!  Dear! dear!  Yet it is very odd,\nand I don't think she can be quite dead, you know--for dead folks\nalways wag their tails!'\n\nOn this, Miss Crocodile began to wag her tail very gently, and Mr.\nJackal ran off, roaring with laughter, and saying, 'Oho!--oho! so dead\nfolk always wag their tails!'\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU WAS BORN\n\n\nOnce there lived a great Raja, whose name was S\u00e2lb\u00e2han, and he had two\nQueens.  Now the elder, by name Queen Achhr\u00e2, had a fair young son\ncalled Prince P\u00fbran; but the younger, by name Lon\u00e2, though she wept\nand prayed at many a shrine, had never a child to gladden her eyes.\nSo, being a bad, deceitful woman, envy and rage took possession of her\nheart, and she so poisoned Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han's mind against his son, young\nP\u00fbran, that just as the Prince was growing to manhood, his father\nbecame madly jealous of him, and in a fit of anger ordered his hands\nand feet to be cut off.  Not content even with this cruelty, Raja\nS\u00e2lb\u00e2han had the poor young man thrown into a deep well.\nNevertheless, P\u00fbran did not die, as no doubt the enraged father hoped\nand expected; for God preserved the innocent Prince, so that he lived\non, miraculously, at the bottom of the well, until, years after, the\ngreat and holy Guru Gorakn\u00e2th came to the place, and finding Prince\nP\u00fbran still alive, not only released him from his dreadful prison,\nbut, by the power of magic, restored his hands and feet.  Then P\u00fbran,\nin gratitude for this great boon, became a _faq\u00eer_, and placing\nthe sacred earrings in his ears, followed Gorakn\u00e2th as a disciple, and\nwas called P\u00fbran Bhagat.\n\nBut as time went by, his heart yearned to see his mother's face, so\nGuru Gorakn\u00e2th gave him leave to visit his native town, and P\u00fbran\nBhagat journeyed thither and took up his abode in a large walled\ngarden, where he had often played as a child.  And, lo! he found it\nneglected and barren, so that his heart became sad when he saw the\nbroken watercourses and the withered trees.  Then he sprinkled the dry\nground with water from his drinking vessel, and prayed that all might\nbecome green again.  And, lo! even as he prayed, the trees shot forth\nleaves, the grass grew, the flowers bloomed, and all was as it had\nonce been.\n\nThe news of this marvellous thing spread fast through the city, and\nall the world went out to see the holy man who had performed the\nwonder.  Even the Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han and his two Queens heard of it in the\npalace, and they too went to the garden to see it with their own\neyes.  But P\u00fbran Bhagat's mother, Queen Achhr\u00e2, had wept so long for\nher darling, that the tears had blinded her eyes, and so she went, not\nto see, but to ask the wonder-working _faq\u00eer_ to restore her\nsight.  Therefore, little knowing from whom she asked the boon, she\nfell on the ground before P\u00fbran Bhagat, begging him to cure her; and,\nlo! almost before she asked, it was done, and she saw plainly.\n\nThen deceitful Queen Lon\u00e2, who all these years had been longing vainly\nfor a son, when she saw what mighty power the unknown _faq\u00eer_\npossessed, fell on the ground also, and begged for an heir to gladden\nthe heart of Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han.\n\nThen P\u00fbran Bhagat spoke, and his voice was stern,--'Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han\nalready has a son.  Where is he?  What have you done with him?  Speak\ntruth, Queen Lon\u00e2, if you would find favour with God!'\n\nThen the woman's great longing for a son conquered her pride, and\nthough her husband stood by, she humbled herself before the\n_faq\u00eer_ and told the truth,--how she had deceived the father and\ndestroyed the son.\n\nThen P\u00fbran Bhagat rose to his feet, stretched out his hands towards\nher, and a smile was on his face, as he said softly, 'Even so, Queen\nLon\u00e2! even so!  And behold! _I_ am Prince P\u00fbran, whom you\ndestroyed and God delivered!  I have a message for you.  Your fault is\nforgiven, but not forgotten; you shall indeed bear a son, who shall be\nbrave and good, yet will he cause you to weep tears as bitter as those\nmy mother wept for me.  So! take this grain of rice; eat it, and you\nshall bear a son that will be no son to you, for even as I was reft\nfrom my mother's eyes, so will he be reft from yours.  Go in peace;\nyour fault is forgiven, but not forgotten!'\n\nQueen Lon\u00e2 returned to the palace, and when the time for the birth of\nthe promised son drew nigh, she inquired of three J\u00f4gis who came\nbegging to her gate, what the child's fate would be, and the youngest\nof them answered and said, 'O Queen, the child will be a boy, and he\nwill live to be a great man.  But for twelve years you must not look\nupon his face, for if either you or his father see it before the\ntwelve years are past, you will surely die!  This is what you must\ndo,--as soon as the child is born you must send him away to a cellar\nunderneath the ground, and never let him see the light of day for\ntwelve years.  After they are over, he may come forth, bathe in the\nriver, put on new clothes, and visit you.  His name shall be Raja\nRas\u00e2lu, and he shall be known far and wide.'\n\nSo, when a fair young Prince was in due time born into the world, his\nparents hid him away in an underground palace, with nurses, and\nservants, and everything else a King's son might desire.  And with him\nthey sent a young colt, born the same day, and a sword, a spear, and a\nshield, against the day when Raja Ras\u00e2lu should go forth into the\nworld.\n\nSo there the child lived, playing with his colt, and talking to his\nparrot, while the nurses taught him all things needful for a King's\nson to know.\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU WENT OUT INTO THE WORLD\n\n\nYoung Ras\u00e2lu lived on, far from the light of day, for eleven long\nyears, growing tall and strong, yet contented to remain playing with\nhis colt and talking to his parrot; but when the twelfth year began,\nthe lad's heart leapt up with desire for change, and he loved to\nlisten to the sounds of life which came to him in his palace-prison\nfrom the outside world.\n\n'I must go and see where the voices come from!' he said; and when his\nnurses told him he must not go for one year more, he only laughed\naloud, saying, 'Nay!  I stay no longer here for any man!'\n\nThen he saddled his horse Bhaunr Ir\u00e2qi, put on his shining armour, and\nrode forth into the world; but--mindful of what his nurses had often\ntold him--when he came to the river, he dismounted, and going into\nthe water, washed himself and his clothes.\n\nThen, clean of raiment, fair of face, and brave of heart, he rode on\nhis way until he reached his father's city.  There he sat down to rest\na while by a well, where the women were drawing water in earthen\npitchers.  Now, as they passed him, their full pitchers poised upon\ntheir heads, the gay young Prince flung stones at the earthen vessels,\nand broke them all.  Then the women, drenched with water, went weeping\nand wailing to the palace, complaining to the King that a mighty young\nPrince in shining armour, with a parrot on his wrist and a gallant\nsteed beside him, sat by the well, and broke their pitchers.\n\nNow, as soon as Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han heard this, he guessed at once that it\nwas Prince Ras\u00e2lu come forth before the time, and, mindful of the\nJ\u00f4gis' words that he would die if he looked on his son's face before\ntwelve years were past, he did not dare to send his guards to seize\nthe offender and bring him to be judged.  So he bade the women be\ncomforted, and for the future take pitchers of iron and brass, and\ngave new ones from his treasury to those who did not possess any of\ntheir own.\n\nBut when Prince Ras\u00e2lu saw the women returning to the well with\npitchers of iron and brass, he laughed to himself, and drew his mighty\nbow till the sharp-pointed arrows pierced the metal vessels as though\nthey had been clay.\n\nYet still the King did not send for him, and so he mounted his steed\nand set off in the pride of his youth and strength to the palace.  He\nstrode into the audience hall, where his father sat trembling, and\nsaluted him with all reverence; but Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han, in fear of his\nlife, turned his back hastily and said never a word in reply.\n\nThen Prince Ras\u00e2lu called scornfully to him across the hall--\n\n  'I came to greet thee, King, and not to harm thee!\n    What have I done that thou shouldst turn away?\n  Sceptre and empire have no power to charm me--\n    I go to seek a worthier prize than they!'\n\nThen he strode out of the hall, full of bitterness and anger; but, as\nhe passed under the palace windows, he heard his mother weeping, and\nthe sound softened his heart, so that his wrath died down, and a great\nloneliness fell upon him, because he was spurned by both father and\nmother.  So he cried sorrowfully--\n\n  'O heart crown'd with grief, hast thou naught\n    But tears for thy son?\n  Art mother of mine?  Give one thought\n    To my life just begun!'\n\nAnd Queen Lon\u00e2 answered through her tears--\n\n  'Yea! mother am I, though I weep,\n    So hold this word sure,--\n  Go, reign king of all men, but keep\n    Thy heart good and pure!'\n\nSo Raja Ras\u00e2lu was comforted, and began to make ready for fortune.  He\ntook with him his horse Bhaunr Ir\u00e2qi, and his parrot, both of whom had\nlived with him since he was born; and besides these tried and trusted\nfriends he had two others--a carpenter lad, and a goldsmith lad, who\nwere determined to follow the Prince till death.\n\nSo they made a goodly company, and Queen Lona, when she saw them\ngoing, watched them from her window till she saw nothing but a cloud\nof dust on the horizon; then she bowed her head on her hands and wept,\nsaying--\n\n  'O son who ne'er gladdened mine eyes,\n  Let the cloud of thy going arise,\n  Dim the sunlight and darken the day;\n  For the mother whose son is away\n      Is as dust!'\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU'S FRIENDS FORSOOK HIM\n\n\nNow, on the first day, Raja Ras\u00e2lu journeyed far, until he came to a\nlonely forest, where he halted for the night.  And seeing it was a\ndesolate place, and the night dark, he determined to set a watch.  So\nhe divided the time into three watches, and the carpenter took the\nfirst, the goldsmith the second, and Raja Ras\u00e2lu the third.\n\nThen the goldsmith lad spread a couch of clean grass for his master,\nand fearing lest the Prince's heart should sink at the change from his\nformer luxurious life, he said these words of encouragement--\n\n  'Cradled till now on softest down,\n    Grass is thy couch to-night;\n  Yet grieve not thou if Fortune frown--\n    Brave hearts heed not her slight!'\n\nNow, when Raja Ras\u00e2lu and the goldsmith's son slept, a snake came out\nof a thicket hard by, and crept towards the sleepers.\n\n'Who are you?' quoth the carpenter lad, 'and why do you come hither?'\n\n'I have destroyed all things within twelve miles!' returned the\nserpent.  'Who are _you_ that have dared to come hither?\n\nThen the snake attacked the carpenter, and they fought until the snake\nwas killed, when the carpenter hid the dead body under his shield, and\nsaid nothing of the adventure to his comrades, lest he should alarm\nthem, for, like the goldsmith, he thought the Prince might be\ndiscouraged.\n\nNow, when it came to Raja Ras\u00e2lu's turn to keep watch, a dreadful\nunspeakable horror came out of the thicket.  Nevertheless, Ras\u00e2lu went\nup to it boldly, and cried aloud, 'Who are you? and what brings you\nhere?'\n\nThen the awful unspeakable horror replied, 'I have killed everything\nfor thrice twelve miles around!  Who are _you_ that dare come\nhither?'\n\nWhereupon Ras\u00e2lu drew his mighty bow, and pierced the horror with an\narrow, so that it fled into a cave, whither the Prince followed it.\nAnd they fought long and fiercely, till at last the horror died, and\nRas\u00e2lu returned to watch in peace.\n\nNow, when morning broke, Raja Ras\u00e2lu called his sleeping servants, and\nthe carpenter showed with pride the body of the serpent he had killed.\n\n'Tis but a small snake!' quoth the Raja.  'Come and see what I killed\nin the cave!'\n\nAnd, behold! when the goldsmith lad and the carpenter lad saw the\nawful, dreadful, unspeakable horror Raja Ras\u00e2lu had slain, they were\nexceedingly afraid, and falling on their knees, begged to be allowed\nto return to the city, saying, 'O mighty Ras\u00e2lu, you are a Raja and a\nhero!  You can fight such horrors; we are but ordinary folk, and if we\nfollow you we shall surely be killed.  Such things are nought to you,\nbut they are death to us.  Let us go!'\n\nThen Ras\u00e2lu looked at them sorrowfully, and bade them do as they\nwished, saying--\n\n    'Aloes linger long before they flower:\n      Gracious rain too soon is overpast:\n    Youth and strength are with us but an hour:\n      All glad life must end in death at last!\n\n  But king reigns king without consent of courtier;\n    Rulers may rule, though none heed their command.\n  Heaven-crown'd heads stoop not, but rise the haughtier,\n    Alone and houseless in a stranger's land!'\n\nSo his friends forsook him, and Ras\u00e2lu journeyed on alone.\n\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU KILLED THE GIANTS\n\n\n[Illustration:  Old woman making unleavened bread]\n\nNow, after a time, Raja Ras\u00e2lu arrived at Nila city, and as he entered\nthe town he saw an old woman making unleavened bread, and as she made\nit she sometimes wept, and sometimes laughed; so Ras\u00e2lu asked her why\nshe wept and laughed, but she answered sadly, as she kneaded her\ncakes, 'Why do you ask?  What will you gain by it?'\n\n'Nay, mother!' replied Ras\u00e2lu, 'if you tell me the truth, one of us\nmust benefit by it.'\n\nAnd when the old woman looked in Ras\u00e2lu's face she saw that it was\nkind, so she opened her heart to him, saying, with tears, 'O stranger,\nI had seven fair sons, and now I have but one left, for six of them\nhave been killed by a dreadful giant who comes every day to this city\nto receive tribute from us,--every day a fair young man, a buffalo,\nand a basket of cakes!  Six of my sons have gone, and now to-day it\nhas once more fallen to my lot to provide the tribute; and my boy, my\ndarling, my youngest, must meet the fate of his brothers.  Therefore I\nweep!'\n\nThen Ras\u00e2lu was moved to pity, and said--\n\n   'Fond, foolish mother! cease these tears--\n     Keep thou thy son.  I fear nor death nor life,\n     Seeking my fortune everywhere in strife.\n   My head for his I give!--so calm your fears.'\n\nStill the old woman shook her head doubtfully, saying, 'Fair words,\nfair words! but who will really risk his life for another?'\n\nThen Ras\u00e2lu smiled at her, and dismounting from his gallant steed,\nBhaunr Ir\u00e2qi, he sat down carelessly to rest, as if indeed he were a\nson of the house, and said, 'Fear not, mother!  I give you my word of\nhonour that I will risk my life to save your son.'\n\nJust then the high officials of the city, whose duty it was to claim\nthe giant's tribute, appeared in sight, and the old woman fell\na-weeping once more, saying--\n\n   'O Prince, with the gallant gray steed and the\n     turban bound high\n   O'er thy fair bearded face; keep thy word, my\n     oppressor draws nigh!'\n\nThen Raja Ras\u00e2lu rose in his shining armour, and haughtily bade the\nguards stand aside.\n\n'Fair words!' replied the chief officer; 'but if this woman does not\nsend the tribute at once, the giants will come and disturb the whole\ncity.  Her son must go!'\n\n'I go in his stead!' quoth Ras\u00e2lu more haughtily still.  'Stand back,\nand let me pass!'\n\nThen, despite their denials, he mounted his horse, and taking the\nbasket of cakes and the buffalo, he set off to find the giant, bidding\nthe buffalo show him the shortest road.\n\nNow, as he came near the giants' house, he met one of them carrying a\nhuge skinful of water.  No sooner did the water-carrier giant see Raja\nRas\u00e2lu riding along on his horse Bhaunr Ir\u00e2qi and leading the buffalo,\nthan he said to himself, 'Oho! we have a horse extra to-day!  I think\nI will eat it myself, before my brothers see it!'\n\nThen he reached out his hand, but Ras\u00e2lu drew his sharp sword and\nsmote the giant's hand off at a blow, so that he fled from him in\ngreat fear.\n\nNow, as he fled, he met his sister the giantess, who called out to\nhim, 'Brother, whither away so fast?'\n\nAnd the giant answered in haste, 'Raja Ras\u00e2lu has come at last, and\nsee!--he has cut off my hand with one blow of his sword!'\n\nThen the giantess, overcome with fear, fled with her brother, and as\nthey fled they called aloud--\n\n  'Fly! brethren, fly!\n    Take the path that is nearest;\n  The fire burns high\n    That will scorch up our dearest!\n\n  Life's joys we have seen:\n    East and west we must wander!\n  What has been, has been;\n    Quick! some remedy ponder.'\n\nThen all the giants turned and fled to their astrologer brother, and\nbade him look in his books to see if Raja Ras\u00e2lu were really born into\nthe world.  And when they heard that he was, they prepared to fly east\nand west; but even as they turned, Raja Ras\u00e2lu rode up on Bhaunr\nIr\u00e2qi, and challenged them to fight, saying, 'Come forth, for I am\nRas\u00e2lu, son of Raja S\u00e2lb\u00e2han, and born enemy of the giants!'\n\nThen one of the giants tried to brazen it out, saying, 'I have eaten\nmany Ras\u00e2lus like you!  When the real man comes, his horse's\nheel-ropes will bind us and his sword cut us up of their own accord!'\n\nThen Raja Ras\u00e2lu loosed his heel-ropes, and dropped his sword upon the\nground, and, lo! the heel-ropes bound the giants, and the sword cut\nthem in pieces.\n\nStill, seven giants who were left tried to brazen it out, saying,\n'Aha!  We have eaten many Ras\u00e2lus like you!  When the real man comes,\nhis arrow will pierce seven girdles placed one behind the other.'\n\nSo they took seven iron girdles for baking bread, and placed them one\nbehind the other, as a shield, and behind them stood the seven giants,\nwho were own brothers, and, lo! when Raja Ras\u00e2lu twanged his mighty\nbow, the arrow pierced through the seven girdles, and spitted the\nseven giants in a row!\n\nBut the giantess, their sister, escaped, and fled to a cave in the\nGandgari mountains.  Then Raja Ras\u00e2lu had a statue made in his\nlikeness, and clad it in shining armour, with sword and spear and\nshield.  And he placed it as a sentinel at the entrance of the cave,\nso that the giantess dared not come forth, but starved to death\ninside.\n\nSo this is how he killed the giants.\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU BECAME A J\u00d4GI\n\n\nThen, after a time, Ras\u00e2lu went to Hodinagari.  And when he reached\nthe house of the beautiful far-famed Queen Sundr\u00e2n, he saw an old J\u00f4gi\nsitting at the gate, by the side of his sacred fire.\n\n'Wherefore do you sit there, father?' asked Raja Ras\u00e2lu.\n\n'My son,' returned the J\u00f4gi, 'for two-and-twenty years have I waited\nthus to see the beautiful Sundr\u00e2n, yet have I never seen her!'\n\n'Make me your pupil,' quoth Ras\u00e2lu, 'and I will wait too.'\n\n'You work miracles already, my son,' said the J\u00f4gi; 'so where is the\nuse of your becoming one of us?'\n\nNevertheless, Raja Ras\u00e2lu would not be denied, so the J\u00f4gi bored his\nears and put in the sacred earrings.  Then the new disciple put aside\nhis shining armour, and sat by the fire in a J\u00f4gi's loin-cloth,\nwaiting to see Queen Sundr\u00e2n.\n\nThen, at night, the old J\u00f4gi went and begged alms from four houses,\nand half of what he got he gave to Ras\u00e2lu and half he ate himself.\nNow Raja Ras\u00e2lu, being a very holy man, and a hero besides, did not\ncare for food, and was well content with his half share, but the J\u00f4gi\nfelt starved.\n\nThe next day the same thing happened, and still Ras\u00e2lu sat by the fire\nwaiting to see the beautiful Queen Sundr\u00e2n.\n\nThen the J\u00f4gi lost patience, and said, 'O my disciple, I made you a\npupil in order that you might beg, and feed me, and behold, it is I\nwho have to starve to feed you!'\n\n'You gave no orders!' quoth Ras\u00e2lu, laughing.  'How can a disciple beg\nwithout his master's leave?'\n\n'I order you now!' returned the J\u00f4gi.  'Go and beg enough for you and\nfor me.'\n\nSo Raja Ras\u00e2lu rose up, and stood at the gate of Queen Sundr\u00e2n's\npalace, in his J\u00f4gi's dress, and sang,\n\n  '_Alakh!_ at thy threshold I stand,\n    Drawn from far by the name of thy charms;\n  Fair Sundr\u00e2n, with generous hand,\n    Give the earring-decked J\u00f4gi an alms!'\n\nNow when Queen Sundr\u00e2n, from within, heard Ras\u00e2lu's voice, its\nsweetness pierced her heart, so that she immediately sent out alms by\nthe hand of her maid-servant.  But when the maiden came to the gate,\nand saw the exceeding beauty of Ras\u00e2lu, standing outside, fair in face\nand form, she fainted away, dropping the alms upon the ground.\n\nThen once more Ras\u00e2lu sang, and again his voice fell sweetly on Queen\nSundr\u00e2n's ears, so that she sent out more alms by the hand of another\nmaiden.  But she also fainted away at the sight of Ras\u00e2lu's marvellous\nbeauty.\n\nThen Queen Sundr\u00e2n rose, and came forth herself, fair and stately.\nShe chid the maidens, gathered up the broken alms, and setting the\nfood aside, filled the plate with jewels and put it herself into\nRas\u00e2lu's hands, saying proudly--\n\n  'Since when have the earrings been thine?\n    Since when wert thou made a _faq\u00eer_?\n  What arrow from Love's bow has struck thee?\n      What seekest thou here?\n    Do you beg of all women you see,\n    Or only, fair J\u00f4gi, of me?'\n\nAnd Ras\u00e2lu, in his J\u00f4gi's habit, bent his head towards her, saying\nsoftly--\n\n  'A day since the earrings were mine,\n    A day since I turned a _faq\u00eer_;\n  But yesterday Love's arrow struck me;\n      I seek nothing here!\n    I beg nought of others I see,\n    But only, fair Sundr\u00e2n, of thee!'\n\nNow, when Ras\u00e2lu returned to his master with the plate full of jewels,\nthe old J\u00f4gi was sorely astonished, and bade him take them back, and\nask for food instead.  So Ras\u00e2lu returned to the gate, and sang--\n\n  '_Alakh!_ at thy threshold I stand,\n    Drawn from far by the fame of thy charms;\n  Fair Sundr\u00e2n, with generous hand,\n    Give the earring-decked beggar an alms!'\n\nThen Queen Sundr\u00e2n rose up, proud and beautiful, and coming to the\ngate, said softly--\n\n  'No beggar thou!  The quiver of thy mouth\n    Is set with pearly shafts; its bow is red\n  As rubies rare.  Though ashes hide thy youth,\n    Thine eyes, thy colour, herald it instead!\n  Deceive me not--pretend no false desire--\n  But ask the secret alms thou dost require.'\n\nBut Ras\u00e2lu smiled a scornful smile, saying--\n\n  'Fair Queen! what though the quiver of my mouth\n    Be set with glistening pearls and rubies red?\n  I trade not jewels, east, west, north, or south;\n    Take back thy gems, and give me food instead.\n  Thy gifts are rich and rare, but costly charms\n  Scarce find fit placing in a J\u00f4gi's alms!'\n\nThen Queen Sundr\u00e2n took back the jewels, and bade the beautiful J\u00f4gi\nwait an hour till the food was cooked.  Nevertheless, she learnt no\nmore of him, for he sat by the gate and said never a word.  Only when\nQueen Sundr\u00e2n gave him a plate piled up with sweets, and looked at him\nsadly, saying--\n\n  'What King's son art thou? and whence dost thou come?\n  What name hast thou, J\u00f4gi, and where is thy home?'\n\nthen Raja Ras\u00e2lu, taking the alms, replied--\n\n  'I am fair Lona's son; my father's name\n    Great S\u00e2lb\u00e2han, who reigns at Sialkot.\n  I am Ras\u00e2lu; for thy beauty's fame\n    These ashes, and the J\u00f4gi's begging note,\n  To see if thou wert fair as all men say;\n  Lo!  I have seen it, and I go my way!'\n\nThen Ras\u00e2lu returned to his master with the sweets, and after that he\nwent away from the place, for he feared lest the Queen, knowing who he\nwas, might try to keep him prisoner.\n\nAnd beautiful Sundr\u00e2n waited for the J\u00f4gi's cry, and when none came,\nshe went forth, proud and stately, to ask the old J\u00f4gi whither his\npupil had gone.\n\nNow he, vexed that she should come forth to ask for a stranger, when\nhe had sat at her gates for two-and-twenty years with never a word or\nsign, answered back, 'My pupil?  I was hungry, and I ate him, because\nhe did not bring me alms enough.'\n\n'Oh, monster!' cried Queen Sundr\u00e2n.  'Did I not send thee jewels and\nsweets?  Did not these satisfy thee, that thou must feast on beauty\nalso?'\n\n'I know not,' quoth the J\u00f4gi; 'only this I know--I put the youth on a\nspit, roasted him, and ate him up.  He tasted well!'\n\n'Then roast and eat me too!' cried poor Queen Sundr\u00e2n; and with the\nwords she threw herself into the sacred fire and became _sati_\nfor the love of the beautiful J\u00f4gi Ras\u00e2lu.\n\nAnd he, going thence, thought not of her, but fancying he would like\nto be king a while, he snatched the throne from Raja Hari Chand, and\nreigned in his stead.\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU JOURNEYED TO THE CITY OF KING SARKAP\n\n\nNow, after he had reigned a while in Hodinagari, Ras\u00e2lu gave up his\nkingdom, and started off to play _chaupur_ with King Sarkap.  And\nas he journeyed there came a fierce storm of thunder and lightning, so\nthat he sought shelter, and found none save an old graveyard, where a\nheadless corpse lay upon the ground.  So lonesome was it that even the\ncorpse seemed company, and Ras\u00e2lu, sitting down beside it, said--\n\n  'There is no one here, nor far nor near,\n     Save this breathless corpse so cold and grim;\n  Would God he might come to life again,\n    'Twould be less lonely to talk to him.'\n\nAnd immediately the headless corpse arose and sat beside Raja Ras\u00e2lu.\nAnd he, nothing astonished, said to it--\n\n  'The storm beats fierce and loud,\n     The clouds rise thick in the west;\n  What ails thy grave and thy shroud,\n     O corpse, that thou canst not rest?'\n\nThen the headless corpse replied--\n\n  'On earth I was even as thou,\n    My turban awry like a king,\n  My head with the highest, I trow,\n    Having my fun and my fling,\n  Fighting my foes like a brave,\n    Living my life with a swing.\n         And, now I am dead,\n         Sins, heavy as lead,\n  Will give me no rest in my grave!'\n\nSo the night passed on, dark and dreary, while Ras\u00e2lu sat in the\ngraveyard and talked to the headless corpse.  Now when morning broke\nand Ras\u00e2lu said he must continue his journey, the headless corpse\nasked him whither he was going; and when he said. 'to play\n_chaupur_ with King Sarkap,' the corpse begged him to give up the\nidea, saying, 'I am King Sarkap's brother, and I know his ways.  Every\nday, before breakfast, he cuts off the heads of two or three men, just\nto amuse himself.  One day no one else was at hand, so he cut off\nmine, and he will surely cut off yours on some pretence or another.\nHowever, if you are determined to go and play _chaupur_ with him,\ntake some of the bones from this graveyard, and make your dice out of\nthem, and then the enchanted dice with which my brother plays will\nlose their virtue.  Otherwise he will always win.'\n\nSo Ras\u00e2lu took some of the bones lying about, and fashioned them into\ndice, and these he put into his pocket.  Then, bidding adieu to the\nheadless corpse, he went on his way to play _chaupur_ with the\nKing.\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU SWUNG THE SEVENTY FAIR MAIDENS, DAUGHTERS OF THE KING\n\n\nNow, as Raja Ras\u00e2lu, tender-hearted and strong, journeyed along to\nplay _chaupur_ with the King, he came to a burning forest, and a\nvoice rose from the fire saying, 'O traveller, for God's sake save me\nfrom the fire!'\n\nThen the Prince turned towards the burning forest, and, lo! the voice\nwas the voice of a tiny cricket.  Nevertheless, Ras\u00e2lu, tender-hearted\nand strong, snatched it from the fire and set it at liberty.  Then the\nlittle creature, full of gratitude, pulled out one of its feelers, and\ngiving it to its preserver, said, 'Keep this, and should you ever be\nin trouble, put it into the fire, and instantly I will come to your\naid.'\n\nThe Prince smiled, saying, 'What help could _you_ give\n_me_?'  Nevertheless, he kept the hair and went on his way.\n\nNow, when he reached the city of King Sarkap, seventy maidens,\ndaughters of the King, came out to meet him--seventy fair maidens,\nmerry and careless, full of smiles and laughter; but one, the youngest\nof them all, when she saw the gallant young Prince riding on Bhaunr\nIr\u00e2qi, going gaily to his doom, was filled with pity, and called to\nhim, saying--\n\n  'Fair Prince, on the charger so gray,\n       Turn thee back! turn thee back!\n  Or lower thy lance for the fray;\n  Thy head will be forfeit to-day!\n  Dost love life? then, stranger, I pray,\n       Turn thee back! turn thee back!'\n\nBut he, smiling at the maiden, answered lightly--\n\n  'Fair maiden, I come from afar,\n  Sworn conqueror in love and in war!\n  King Sarkap my coming will rue,\n  His head in four pieces I'll hew;\n  Then forth as a bridegroom I'll ride,\n  With you, little maid, as my bride!'\n\nNow when Ras\u00e2lu replied so gallantly, the maiden looked in his face,\nand seeing how fair he was, and how brave and strong, she straightway\nfell in love with him, and would gladly have followed him through the\nworld.\n\nBut the other sixty-nine maidens, being jealous, laughed scornfully at\nher, saying, 'Not so fast, O gallant warrior!  If you would marry our\nsister you must first do our bidding, for you will be our younger\nbrother.'\n\n'Fair sisters!' quoth Ras\u00e2lu gaily, 'give me my task and I will\nperform it.'\n\nSo the sixty-nine maidens mixed a hundredweight of millet seed with a\nhundredweight of sand, and giving it to Ras\u00e2lu, bade him separate the\nseed from the sand.\n\nThen he bethought him of the cricket, and drawing the feeler from his\npocket, thrust it into the fire.  And immediately there was a whirring\nnoise in the air, and a great flight of crickets alighted beside him,\nand among them the cricket whose life he had saved.\n\nThen Ras\u00e2lu said, 'Separate the millet seed from the sand.'\n\n'Is that all?' quoth the cricket; 'had I known how small a job you\nwanted me to do, I would not have assembled so many of my brethren.'\n\nWith that the flight of crickets set to work, and in one night they\nseparated the seed from the sand.\n\nNow when the sixty-nine fair maidens, daughters of the King, saw that\nRas\u00e2lu had performed his task, they set him another, bidding him swing\nthem all, one by one, in their swings, until they were tired.\n\nWhereupon he laughed, saying, 'There are seventy of you, counting my\nlittle bride yonder, and I am not going to spend my life in swinging\ngirls; yet, by the time I have given each of you a swing, the first\nwill be wanting another!  No! if you want to swing, get in, all\nseventy of you, into one swing, and then I will see what I can\ncompass.'\n\nSo the seventy maidens, merry and careless, full of smiles and\nlaughter, climbed into the one swing, and Raja Ras\u00e2lu, standing in his\nshining armour, fastened the ropes to his mighty bow, and drew it up\nto its fullest bent.  Then he let go, and like an arrow the swing shot\ninto the air, with its burden of seventy fair maidens, merry and\ncareless, full of smiles and laughter.\n\nBut as it swung back again, Ras\u00e2lu, standing there in his shining\narmour, drew his sharp sword and severed the ropes.  Then the seventy\nfair maidens fell to the ground headlong; and some were bruised and\nsome broken, but the only one who escaped unhurt was the maiden who\nloved Ras\u00e2lu, for she fell out last, on the top of the others, and so\ncame to no harm.\n\nAfter this, Ras\u00e2lu strode on fifteen paces, till he came to the\nseventy drums, that every one who came to play _chaupur_ with the\nKing had to beat in turn; and he beat them so loudly that he broke\nthem all.  Then he came to the seventy gongs, all in a row, and he\nhammered them so hard that they cracked to pieces.\n\nSeeing this, the youngest Princess, who was the only one who could\nrun, fled to her father the King in a great fright, saying--\n\n  'A mighty Prince, Sarkap! making havoc, rides along,\n  He swung us, seventy maidens fair, and threw us out headlong;\n  He broke the drums you placed there and the gongs too in his pride,\n  Sure, he will kill thee, father mine, and take me for his bride!'\n\nBut King Sarkap replied scornfully--\n\n  'Silly maiden, thy words make a lot\n     Of a very small matter;\n  For fear of my valour, I wot,\n     His armour will clatter.\n  As soon as I've eaten my bread\n  I'll go forth and cut off his head!'\n\nNotwithstanding these brave and boastful words, he was in reality very\nmuch afraid, having heard of Ras\u00e2lu's renown.  And learning that he\nwas stopping at the house of an old woman in the city, till the hour\nfor playing _chaupur_ arrived, Sarkap sent slaves to him with\ntrays of sweetmeats and fruit, as to an honoured guest.  But the food\nwas poisoned.\n\nNow when the slaves brought the trays to Raja Ras\u00e2lu, he rose up\nhaughtily, saying, 'Go, tell your master I have nought to do with him\nin friendship.  I am his sworn enemy, and I eat not of his salt!'\n\nSo saying, he threw the sweetmeats to Raja Sarkap's dog, which had\nfollowed the slaves, and lo! the dog died.\n\nThen Ras\u00e2lu was very wroth, and said bitterly, 'Go back to Sarkap,\nslaves! and tell him that Ras\u00e2lu deems it no act of bravery to kill\neven an enemy by treachery.'\n\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU PLAYED CHAUPUR WITH KING SARKAP\n\n\nNow, when evening came, Raja Ras\u00e2lu went forth to play _chaupur_\nwith King Sarkap, and as he passed some potters' kilns he saw a cat\nwandering about restlessly; so he asked what ailed her that she never\nstood still, and she replied, 'My kittens are in an unbaked pot in the\nkiln yonder.  It has just been set alight, and my children will be\nbaked alive; therefore I cannot rest!'\n\nHer words moved the heart of Raja Ras\u00e2lu, and, going to the potter, he\nasked him to sell the kiln as it was; but the potter replied that he\ncould not settle a fair price till the pots were burnt, as he could\nnot tell how many would come out whole.  Nevertheless, after some\nbargaining, he consented at last to sell the kiln, and Ras\u00e2lu, having\nsearched through all the pots, restored the kittens to their mother,\nand she, in gratitude for his mercy, gave him one of them, saying,\n'Put it in your pocket, for it will help you when you are in\ndifficulties.'\n\nSo Raja Ras\u00e2lu put the kitten in his pocket, and went to play\n_chaupur_ with the King.\n\nNow, before they sat down to play, Raja Sarkap fixed his stakes.  On\nthe first game, his kingdom; on the second, the wealth of the whole\nworld; and on the third, his own head.  So, likewise, Raja Ras\u00e2lu\nfixed his stakes.  On the first game, his arms; on the second, his\nhorse; and on the third, his own head.\n\nThen they began to play, and it fell to Ras\u00e2lu's lot to make the first\nmove.  Now he, forgetful of the dead man's warning, played with the\ndice given him by Raja Sarkap; then, in addition, Sarkap let loose his\nfamous rat, Dhol Raja, and it ran about the board, upsetting the\n_chaupur_ pieces on the sly, so that Ras\u00e2lu lost the first game,\nand gave up his shining armour.\n\nSo the second game began, and once more Dhol Raja, the rat, upset the\npieces; and Ras\u00e2lu, losing the game, gave up his faithful steed.  Then\nBhaunr Ir\u00e2qi, who stood by, found voice, and cried to his master--\n\n    'I am born of the sea and of gold;\n    Dear Prince! trust me now as of old.\n      I'll carry you far from these wiles--\n  My flight, all unspurr'd, will be swift as a bird,\n      For thousands and thousands of miles!\n  Or if needs you must stay; ere the next game you play,\n      Place hand in your pocket, I pray!'\n\nHearing this, Raja Sarkap frowned, and bade his slaves remove Bhaunr\nIr\u00e2qi, since he gave his master advice in the game.  Now when the\nslaves came to lead the faithful steed away, Ras\u00e2lu could not refrain\nfrom tears, thinking over the long years during which Bhaunr Ir\u00e2qi had\nbeen his companion.  But the horse cried out again--\n\n  'Weep not, dear Prince!  I shall not eat my bread\n  Of stranger hands, nor to strange stall be led.\n  Take thy right hand, and place it as I said.'\n\nThese words roused some recollection in Ras\u00e2lu's mind, and when, just\nat this moment, the kitten in his pocket began to struggle, he\nremembered the warning which the corpse had given him about the dice\nmade from dead men's bones.  Then his heart rose up once more, and he\ncalled boldly to Raja Sarkap, 'Leave my horse and arms here for the\npresent.  Time enough to take them away when you have won my head!'\n\nNow, Raja Sarkap, seeing Ras\u00e2lu's confident bearing, began to be\nafraid, and ordered all the women of his palace to come forth in their\ngayest attire and stand before Ras\u00e2lu, so as to distract his attention\nfrom the game.  But he never even looked at them; and drawing the dice\nfrom his pocket, said to Sarkap, 'We have played with your dice all\nthis time; now we will play with mine.'\n\nThen the kitten went and sat at the window through which the rat Dhol\nRaja used to come, and the game began.\n\nAfter a while, Sarkap, seeing Raja Ras\u00e2lu was winning, called to his\nrat, but when Dhol Raja saw the kitten he was afraid, and would not go\nfarther.  So Ras\u00e2lu won, and took back his arms.  Next he played for\nhis horse, and once more Raja Sarkap called for his rat; but Dhol\nRaja, seeing the kitten keeping watch, was afraid.  So Ras\u00e2lu won the\nsecond stake, and took back Bhaunr Ir\u00e2qi.\n\nThen Sarkap brought all his skill to bear on the third and last game,\nsaying--\n\n  'O moulded pieces, favour me to-day!\n  For sooth this is a man with whom I play.\n  No paltry risk--but life and death at stake;\n  As Sarkap does, so do, for Sarkap's sake!'\n\nBut Ras\u00e2lu answered back--\n\n  'O moulded pieces, favour me to-day!\n  For sooth it is a man with whom I play.\n  No paltry risk--but life and death at stake;\n  As Heaven does, so do, for Heaven's sake!'\n\nSo they began to play, whilst the women stood round in a circle, and\nthe kitten watched Dhol Raja from the window.  Then Sarkap lost, first\nhis kingdom, then the wealth of the whole world, and lastly his head.\n\nJust then, a servant came in to announce the birth of a daughter to\nRaja Sarkap, and he, overcome by misfortunes, said, 'Kill her at once!\nfor she has been born in an evil moment, and has brought her father\nill luck!'\n\nBut Ras\u00e2lu rose up in his shining armour, tenderhearted and strong,\nsaying, 'Not so, O king!  She has done no evil.  Give me this child to\nwife; and if you will vow, by all you hold sacred, never again to play\n_chaupur_ for another's head, I will spare yours now!'\n\nThen Sarkap vowed a solemn vow never to play for another's head; and\nafter that he took a fresh mango branch, and the new-born babe, and\nplacing them on a golden dish, gave them to the Prince.\n\nNow, as Ras\u00e2lu left the palace, carrying with him the new-born babe\nand the mango branch, he met a band of prisoners, and they called out\nto him--\n\n  'A royal hawk art thou, O King! the rest\n  But timid wild-fowl.  Grant us our request--\n  Unloose these chains, and live for ever blest!'\n\nAnd Raja Ras\u00e2lu hearkened to them, and bade\nKing Sarkap set them at liberty.\n\nThen he went to the Murti Hills, and placed the new-born babe,\nKokilan, in an underground palace, and planted the mango branch at the\ndoor, saying, 'In twelve years the mango tree will blossom; then will\nI return and marry Kokilan.'\n\nAnd after twelve years, the mango tree began to flower, and Raja\nRas\u00e2lu married the Princess Kokilan, whom he won from Sarkap when he\nplayed _chaupur_ with the King.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING WHO WAS FRIED\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a very long time ago indeed, there lived a King who\nhad made a vow never to eat bread or break his fast until he had given\naway a hundredweight of gold in charity.\n\nSo, every day, before King Karan--for that was his name--had his\nbreakfast, the palace servants would come out with baskets and baskets\nof gold pieces to scatter amongst the crowds of poor folk, who, you\nmay be sure, never forgot to be there to receive the alms.\n\nHow they used to hustle and bustle and struggle and scramble!  Then,\nwhen the last golden piece had been fought for, King Karan would sit\ndown to his breakfast, and enjoy it as a man who has kept his word\nshould do.\n\nNow, when people saw the King lavishing his gold in this fashion, they\nnaturally thought that sooner or later the royal treasuries must give\nout, the gold come to an end, and the King--who was evidently a man of\nhis word--die of starvation.  But, though months and years passed by,\nevery day, just a quarter of an hour before breakfast-time, the\nservants came out of the palace with baskets and baskets of gold; and\nas the crowds dispersed they could see the King sitting down to his\nbreakfast in the royal banqueting hall, as jolly, and fat, and hungry,\nas could be.\n\nNow, of course, there was some secret in all this, and this secret I\nshall now tell you.  King Karan had made a compact with a holy and\nvery hungry old _faq\u00eer_ who lived at the top of the hill; and the\ncompact was this:  on condition of King Karan allowing himself to be\nfried and eaten for breakfast every day, the _faq\u00eer_ gave him a\nhundredweight of pure gold.\n\nOf course, had the _faq\u00eer_ been an ordinary sort of person, the\ncompact would not have lasted long, for once King Karan had been fried\nand eaten, there would have been an end of the matter.  But the\n_faq\u00eer_ was a very remarkable _faq\u00eer_ indeed, and when he\nhad eaten the King, and picked the bones quite quite clean, he just\nput them together, said a charm or two, and, hey presto! there was\nKing Karan as fat and jolly as ever, ready for the next morning's\nbreakfast.  In fact, the _faq\u00eer_ made _no bones at all_ over\nthe affair, which, it must be confessed, was very convenient both for\nthe breakfast and the breakfast eater.  Nevertheless, it was of course\nnot pleasant to be popped alive every morning into a great frying-pan\nof boiling oil; and for my part I think King Karan earned his\nhundredweight of gold handsomely.  But after a time he got accustomed\nto the process, and would go up quite cheerfully to the holy and\nhungry one's house, where the biggest frying-pan was spitting and\nsputtering over the sacred fire.  Then he would just pass the time of\nday to the _faq\u00eer_ to make sure he was punctual, and step\ngracefully into his hot oil bath.  My goodness! how he sizzled and\nfizzled!  When he was crisp and brown, the _faq\u00eer_ ate him,\npicked the bones, set them together, sang a charm, and finished the\nbusiness by bringing out his dirty, old ragged coat, which he shook\nand shook, while the bright golden pieces came tumbling out of the\npockets on to the floor.\n\nSo that was the way King Karan got his gold, and if you think it very\nextraordinary, so do I!\n\nNow, in the great Mansarobar Lake, where, as of course you know, all\nthe wild swans live when they leave us, and feed upon seed pearls,\nthere was a great famine.  Pearls were so scarce that one pair of\nswans determined to go out into the world and seek for food.  So they\nflew into King Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet's garden, at Ujjayin.  Now, when the\ngardener saw the beautiful birds, he was delighted, and, hoping to\ninduce them to stay, he threw them grain to eat.  But they would not\ntouch it, nor any other food he offered them; so he went to his\nmaster, and told him there were a pair of swans in the garden who\nrefused to eat anything.\n\nThen King Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet went out, and asked them in birds' language (for,\nas every one knows, Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet understood both beasts and birds) why\nit was that they ate nothing.\n\n'We don't eat grain!' said they, 'nor fruit, nor anything but fresh\nunpierced pearls!'\n\nWhereupon King Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet, being very kind-hearted, sent for a basket\nof pearls; and every day, when he came into the garden, he fed the\nswans with his own hand.\n\nBut one day, when he was feeding them as usual, one of the pearls\nhappened to be pierced.  The dainty swans found it out at once, and\ncoming to the conclusion that King Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet's supply of pearls was\nrunning short, they made up their minds to go farther afield.  So,\ndespite his entreaties, they spread their broad white wings, and flew\nup into the blue sky, their outstretched necks pointing straight\ntowards home on the great Mansarobar Lake.  Yet they were not\nungrateful, for as they flew they sang the praises of Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet.\n\nNow, King Karan was watching his servants bring out the baskets of\ngold, when the wild swans came flying over his head; and when he heard\nthem singing, 'Glory to Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet!  Glory to Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet!' he said to\nhimself, 'Who is this whom even the birds praise?  I let myself be\nfried and eaten every day in order that I may be able to give away a\nhundredweight of gold in charity, yet no swan sings _my_ song!'\n\nSo, being jealous, he sent for a bird-catcher, who snared the poor\nswans with lime, and put them in a cage.\n\nThen Karan hung the cage in the palace, and ordered his servants to\nbring every kind of birds' food; but the proud swans only curved their\nwhite necks in scorn, saying, 'Glory to Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet!--he gave us pearls\nto eat!'\n\nThen King Karan, determined not to be outdone, sent for pearls; but\nstill the scornful swans would not touch anything.\n\n'Why will ye not eat?' quoth King Karan wrathfully; 'am I not as\ngenerous as Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet?'\n\nThen the swan's wife answered, and said, 'Kings do not imprison the\ninnocent.  Kings do not war against women.  If Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet were here,\nhe would at any rate let me go!'\n\nSo Karan, not to be outdone in generosity, let the swan's wife go, and\nshe spread her broad white wings and flew southwards to Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet,\nand told him how her husband lay a prisoner at the court of King\nKaran.\n\nOf course Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet, who was, as every one knows, the most generous\nof kings, determined to* release the poor captive; and bidding the\nswan fly back and rejoin her mate, he put on the garb of a servant,\nand taking the name of Bikr\u00fb, journeyed northwards till he came to\nKing Karan's kingdom.  Then he took service with the King, and helped\nevery day to carry out the baskets of golden pieces.  He soon saw\nthere was some secret in King Karan's endless wealth, and never rested\nuntil he had found it out.  So, one day, hidden close by, he saw King\nKaran enter the _faq\u00eer's_ house and pop into the boiling oil.  He\nsaw him frizzle and sizzle, he saw him come out crisp and brown, he\nsaw the hungry and holy _faq\u00eer_ pick the bones, and, finally, he\nsaw King Karan, fat and jolly as ever, go down the mountain side with\nhis hundredweight of gold!\n\nThen Bikr\u00fb knew what to do!  So the very next day he rose very early,\nand taking a carving-knife, he slashed himself all over.  Next he took\nsome pepper and salt, spices, pounded pomegranate seeds, and\npea-flour; these he mixed together into a beautiful curry-stuff, and\nrubbed himself all over with it--right into the cuts in spite of the\nsmarting.  When he thought he was quite ready for cooking, he just\nwent up the hill to the _faq\u00eer_'s house, and popped into the\nfrying-pan.  The _faq\u00eer_ was still asleep, but he soon awoke with\nthe sizzling and the fizzling, and said to himself, 'Dear me! how\nuncommonly nice the King smells this morning!'\n\nIndeed, so appetising was the smell, that he could hardly wait until\nthe King was crisp and brown, but then----oh, my goodness! how he\ngobbled him up!\n\nYou see, he had been eating plain fried so long that a devilled king\nwas quite a change.  He picked the bones ever so clean, and it is my\nbelief would have eaten them too, if he had not been afraid of killing\nthe goose that laid the golden eggs.\n\nThen, when it was all over, he put the King together again, and said,\nwith tears in his eyes, 'What a breakfast that was, to be sure!  Tell\nme how you managed to taste so nice, and I'll give you anything you\nask.'\n\nWhereupon Bikr\u00fb told him the way it was done, and promised to devil\nhimself every morning, if he might have the old coat in return.\n'For,' said he, 'it is not pleasant to be fried! and I don't see why I\nshould in addition have the trouble of carrying a hundredweight of\ngold to the palace every day.  Now, if _I_ keep the coat, I can\nshake it down there.'\n\nTo this the _faq\u00eer_ agreed, and off went Bikr\u00fb with the coat.\n\nMeanwhile, King Karan came toiling up the hill, and was surprised,\nwhen he entered the _faq\u00eer_'s house, to find the fire out, the\nfrying-pan put away, and the _faq\u00eer_ himself as holy as ever, but\nnot in the least hungry.\n\n'Why, what is the matter?' faltered the King.\n\n'Who are you?' asked the _faq\u00eer_, who, to begin with, was\nsomewhat short-sighted, and in addition felt drowsy after his heavy\nmeal.\n\n'Who!  Why, I'm King Karan, come to be fried!  Don't you want your\nbreakfast?'\n\n'I've had my breakfast!' sighed the _faq\u00eer_ regretfully.  'You\ntasted very nice when you were devilled, I can assure you!'\n\n'I never was devilled in my life!' shouted the King; 'you must have\neaten somebody else!'\n\n'That's just what I was saying to myself!' returned the _faq\u00eer_\nsleepily; 'I thought--it couldn't--be only--the spices--that--\n'--Snore, snore, snore!\n\n'Look here!' cried King Karan, in a rage, shaking the\n_faq\u00eer_,'you must eat me too!'\n\n'Couldn't!' nodded the holy but satisfied _faq\u00eer_, 'really--not\nanother morsel--no, thanks!'\n\n'Then give me my gold!' shrieked King Karan; 'you're bound to do that,\nfor I'm ready to fulfil my part of the contract!'\n\n'Sorry I can't oblige, but the devil--I mean the other person--went\noff with the coat!' nodded the _faq\u00eer_.\n\nHearing this, King Karan returned home in despair and ordered the\nroyal treasurer to send him gold; so that day he ate his breakfast in\npeace.\n\nAnd the next day also, by ransacking all the private treasuries, a\nhundredweight of gold was forthcoming; so King Karan ate his breakfast\nas usual, though his heart was gloomy.\n\nBut the third day, the royal treasurer arrived with empty hands, and,\ncasting himself on the ground, exclaimed, 'May it please your majesty!\nthere is not any more gold in your majesty's domains!'\n\nThen King Karan went solemnly to bed, without any breakfast, and the\ncrowd, after waiting for hours expecting to see the palace doors open\nand the servants come out with the baskets of gold, melted away,\nsaying it was a great shame to deceive poor folk in that way!\n\nBy dinner-time poor King Karan was visibly thinner; but he was a man\nof his word, and though the wily Bikr\u00fb came and tried to persuade him\nto eat, by saying he could not possibly be blamed, he shook his head,\nand turned his face to the wall.\n\nThen Bikr\u00fb, or Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet, took the _faq\u00eer's_ old coat, and\nshaking it before the King, said, 'Take the money, my friend; and what\nis more, if you will set the wild swans you have in that cage at\nliberty, I will give you the coat into the bargain!'\n\nSo King Karan set the wild swans at liberty, and as the pair of them\nflew away to the great Mansarobar Lake, they sang as they went, 'Glory\nto Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet! the generous Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet!'\n\nThen King Karan hung his head, and said to himself, 'The swans' song\nis true!--Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet is more generous than I; for if I was fried for\nthe sake of a hundredweight of gold and my breakfast, he was devilled\nin order to set a bird at liberty!'\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE HALF-A-SON\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a King who had no children, and this\ndisappointment preyed so dreadfully upon his mind that he chose the\ndirtiest and most broken-down old bed he could find, and lay down on\nit in the beautiful palace gardens.  There he lay, amid the flowers\nand the fruit trees, the butterflies and the birds, quite regardless\nof the beauties around him;--that was his way of showing grief.\n\nNow, as he lay thus, a holy _faq\u00eer_ passed through the garden,\nand seeing the King in this pitiful plight, asked him what the sorrow\nwas which drove him to such a very dirty old bed.\n\n'What is the use of asking?' returned the King; but when the\n_faq\u00eer_ asked for the third time what the sorrow was, the King\ntook heart of grace, and answered gloomily, 'I have no children!'\n\n'Is that all?' said the _faq\u00eer_; 'that is easily remedied.  Here!\ntake this stick of mine, and throw it twice into yonder mango tree.\nAt the first throw five mangoes will fall, at the second two.  So many\nsons you shall have, if you give each of your seven Queens a mango\napiece.'\n\nThen the King, greatly delighted, took the _faq\u00eer's_ stick and\nwent off to the mango tree.  Sure enough, at the first throw five\nmangoes fell, at the second, two.  Still the King was not satisfied,\nand, determining to make the most of the opportunity, he threw the\nstick into the tree a third time, hoping to get more children But, to\nhis surprise and consternation, the stick remained in the tree, and\nthe seven fallen mangoes flew back to their places, where they hung\ntemptingly just out of reach.\n\n[Illustration:  The king and the faq\u00eer]\n\nThere was nothing to be done but to go back to the _faq\u00eer_, and\ntell him what had happened.\n\n'That comes of being greedy!' retorted the _faq\u00eer_; 'surely seven\nsons are enough for anybody, and yet you were not content!  However, I\nwill give you one more chance.  Go back to the tree; you will find the\nstick upon the ground; throw it as I bade you, and beware of\ndisobedience, for if you do not heed me this time, you may lie on your\ndirty old bed till doomsday for all I care!'\n\nThen the King returned to the mango tree, and when the seven mangoes\nhad fallen--the first time five, the second time two--he carried them\nstraight into the palace, and gave them to his Queens, so as to be out\nof the way of temptation.\n\nNow, as luck would have it, the youngest Queen was not in the house,\nso the King put her mango away in a tiny cupboard in the wall, against\nher return, and while it lay there a greedy little mouse came and\nnibbled away one half of it.  Shortly afterwards, the seventh Queen\ncame in, and seeing the other Queens just wiping their mouths, asked\nthem what they had been eating.\n\n'The King gave us each a mango,' they replied, 'and he put yours in\nthe cupboard yonder.'\n\nBut, lo! when the youngest Queen ran in haste to find her mango, half\nof it was gone; nevertheless she ate the remaining half with great\nrelish.\n\nNow the result of this was, that when, some months afterwards, the six\nelder Queens each bore a son, the youngest Queen had only\nhalf-a-son--and that was what they called him at once,--just\nhalf-a-son, nothing more:  he had one eye, one ear, one arm, one leg;\nin fact, looked at sideways, he was as handsome a young prince as you\nwould wish to see, but frontways it was as plain as a pikestaff that\nhe was only half-a-prince.  Still he throve and grew strong, so that\nwhen his brothers went out shooting he begged to be allowed to go out\nalso.\n\n'How can _you_ go a-shooting?' wept his mother, who did nothing\nbut fret because her son was but half-a-son; 'you are only half-a-boy;\nhow can you hold your crossbow?'\n\n'Then let me go and play at shooting,' replied\nthe prince, nothing daunted.  'Only give me some sweets to take with\nme, dear mother, as the other boys have, and I shall get on well\nenough.'\n\n[Illustration:  The youngest queen and her half-a-son]\n\n'How can I make sweets for half-a-son?' wept his mother; 'go and ask\nthe other Queens to give you some,'\n\nSo he asked the other Queens, and they, to make fun of the poor lad,\nwho was the butt of the palace, gave him sweets full of ashes.\n\nThen the six whole princes, and little Half-a-son, set off a-shooting,\nand when they grew tired and hungry, they sat down to eat the sweets\nthey had brought with them.  Now when Prince Half-a-son put his into\nhis half-a-mouth, lo and behold! though they were sweet enough\noutside, there was nothing but ashes and grit inside.  He was a\nsimple-hearted young prince, and imagining it must be a mistake, he\nwent to his brothers and asked for some of theirs; but they jeered and\nlaughed at him.\n\nBy and by they came to a field of melons, so carefully fenced in with\nthorns that only one tiny gap remained in one corner, and that was too\nsmall for any one to creep through, except half-a-boy; so while the\nsix whole princes remained outside, little Half-a-son was feasting on\nthe delicious melons inside, and though they begged and prayed him to\nthrow a few over the hedge, he only laughed, saying, 'Remember the\nsweets!--it is my turn now!'\n\nWhen they became very importunate, he threw over a few of the unripe\nand sour melons; whereupon his brothers became so enraged that they\nran to the owner of the field and told him that half-a-boy was making\nsad havoc amongst his fruit.  Then they watched him catch poor Prince\nHalf-a-son, who of course could not run very fast, and tie him to a\ntree, after which they went away laughing.\n\nBut Prince Half-a-son had some compensation for being only half-a-boy,\nin that he possessed the magical power of making a rope do anything he\nbade it.  Therefore, when he saw his brothers leaving him in the\nlurch, he called out, 'Break, rope, break! my companions have gone\non,' and the rope obeyed at once, leaving him free to join his\nbrothers.\n\nBy and by they came to a plum tree, where the fruit grew far out on\nslender branches that would only bear the weight of half-a-boy.\n\n'Throw us down some!' cried the whole brothers, as they saw Half-a-son\nwith his half-mouth full.\n\n'Remember the sweets!' retorted the prince.\n\nThis made his brothers so angry that they ran off to the owner of the\ntree, and telling him how half-a-boy was feasting on his plums,\nwatched while he caught the offender and tied him to the tree.  Then\nthey ran away laughing; but Prince Half-a-son called out, 'Break,\nrope, break! my companions have gone on,' and before they had gone out\nof sight he rejoined his brothers, who could not understand how this\nmiserable half-a-boy outwitted them.\n\nBeing determined to be revenged on him, they waited until he began to\ndraw water from a well, where they stopped to drink, and then they\npushed him in.\n\n'That is an end of little Half-a-son!' they said to themselves, and\nran away laughing.\n\nNow in the well there lived a one-eyed demon, a pigeon, and a serpent,\nand when it was dark these three returned home and began to talk\namongst themselves, while Prince Half-a-son, who clung to the wall\nlike a limpet, and took up no room at all, listened and held his\nbreath.\n\n'What is your power, my friend?' asked the demon of the serpent.\nWhereupon the serpent replied, 'I have the treasures of seven kings\nunderneath me!  What is yours, my friend?'\n\nThen the demon said conceitedly, 'The King's daughter is possessed of\nme.  She is always ill; some day I shall kill her.'\n\n'Ah!' said the pigeon, 'I could cure her, for no matter what the\ndisease is, any one who eats my droppings will become well instantly.'\n\nWhen dawn came, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon each went off\nto his own haunt without noticing Prince Half-a-son.\n\nSoon afterwards, a camel-driver came to draw water from the well, and\nlet down the bucket; whereupon Prince Half-a-son caught hold of the\nrope and held on.\n\nThe camel-driver, feeling a heavy weight, looked down to see what it\nwas, and when he beheld half-a-boy clinging to the rope he was so\nfrightened that he ran clean away.  But all Half-a-son had to do was\nto say, 'Pull, rope, pull!' and the rope wound itself up immediately.\n\nNo sooner had he reached the surface once more than he set off to the\nneighbouring city, and proclaimed that he was a physician come to heal\nthe King's daughter of her dreadful disease.\n\n'Have a care! have a care!' cried the watchmen at the gate.  'If you\nfail, your head will be the forfeit.  Many men have tried, and what\ncan _you_ do that are but half-a-man?'\n\nNevertheless, Prince Half-a-son, who had some of the pigeon's\ndroppings in his pocket, was not in the least afraid, but boldly\nproclaimed he was ready to accept the terms; that is to say, if he\nfailed to cure the princess his head was to be cut off, but if he\nsucceeded, then her hand in marriage and half the kingdom should be\nhis reward.\n\n'Half the kingdom will just suit me,' he said,' seeing that I am but\nhalf-a-man!'\n\nAnd, sure enough, no sooner had the princess taken her first dose,\nthan she immediately became quite well--her cheeks grew rosy, her eyes\nbright; and the King was so delighted that he gave immediate orders\nfor the marriage.  Now amongst the wedding guests were Prince\nHalf-a-son's wicked brothers, who were ready to die of spite and envy\nwhen they discovered that the happy bridegroom was none other than\ntheir despised half-a-boy.  So they went to the King, and said, 'We\nknow this lad:  he is a sweeper's son, and quite unfit to be the\nhusband of so charming a princess!'\n\nThe king at first believed this wicked story, and ordered the poor\nprince to be turned out of the kingdom; but Half-a-son asked for a\ntrain of mules, and one day's respite, in order to prove who and what\nhe was.  Then he went to the well, dug up the treasures of seven kings\nduring the serpent's absence, loaded the mules, and came back\nglittering with gold and jewels.  He laid the treasures at the King's\nfeet, and told the whole story,--how, through no fault of his own, he\nwas only half-a-son, and how unkindly his brothers had behaved to him.\n\nThen the marriage festivities went on, and the wicked brothers crept\naway in disgrace.\n\nThey went to the well, full of envy and covetousness.  'Half-a-son got\nrich by falling in,' they said; 'let us try if we too cannot find some\ntreasure,' So they threw themselves into the well.\n\nAs soon as it was dark, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon came\nhome together.  'Some thief has been here!' cried the pigeon, 'for my\ndroppings are gone!  Let us feel round, and see if he is here still.'\n\nSo they felt round, and when they came upon the six brothers, the\ndemon ate them up one after another.\n\nSo that was an end of them, and Prince Half-a-son had the best of it,\nin spite of his only being half-a-boy.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER WHO WORSHIPPED THE SUN\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a mother and a daughter who worshipped\nthe Sun.  Though they were very poor they never forgot to honour the\nSun, giving everything they earned to it except two meal cakes, one of\nwhich the mother ate, while the other was the daughter's share, every\nday one cake apiece; that was all.\n\nNow it so happened that one day, when the mother was out at work, the\ndaughter grew hungry, and ate her cake before dinner-time.  Just as\nshe had finished it a priest came by, and begged for some bread, but\nthere was none in the house save the mother's cake.  So the daughter\nbroke off half of it and gave it to the priest in the name of the Sun.\n\nBy and by the mother returned, very hungry, to dinner, and, lo and\nbehold! there was only half a cake in the house.\n\n'Where is the remainder of the bread?' she asked.\n\n'I ate my share, because I was hungry,' said the daughter, 'and just\nas I finished, a priest came a-begging, so I was obliged to give him\nhalf your cake.'\n\n'A pretty story!' quoth the mother, in a rage.  'It is easy to be\npious with other people's property!  How am I to know you had eaten\nyour cake first?  I believe you gave mine in order to save your own!'\n\nIn vain the daughter protested that she really had finished her cake\nbefore the priest came a-begging,--in vain she promised to give the\nmother half her share on the morrow,--in vain she pleaded for\nforgiveness for the sake of the Sun, in whose honour she had given\nalms.  Words were of no avail; the mother sternly bade her go about\nher business, saying, 'I will have no gluttons, who grudge their own\nmeal to the great Sun, in my house!'\n\nSo the daughter wandered away homeless into the wilds, sobbing\nbitterly.  When she had travelled a long long way, she became so tired\nthat she could walk no longer; therefore she climbed into a big\n_p\u00eepal_ tree, in order to be secure from wild beasts, and rested\namongst the branches.\n\nAfter a time a handsome young prince, who had been chasing deer in the\nforest, came to the big _p\u00eepal_ tree, and, allured by its\ntempting shade, lay down to sleep away his fatigues.  Now, as he lay\nthere, with his face turned to the sky, he looked so beautiful that\nthe daughter could not choose but keep her eyes upon him, and so the\ntears which flowed from them like a summer shower dropped soft and\nwarm upon the young man's face, waking him with a start.  Thinking it\nwas raining, he rose to look at the sky, and see whence this sudden\nstorm had come; but far and near not a cloud was to be seen.  Still,\nwhen he returned to his place, the drops fell faster than before, and\none of them upon his lip tasted salt as tears.  So he swung himself\ninto the tree, to see whence the salt rain came, and, lo and behold! a\nbeauteous maiden sat in the tree, weeping.\n\n'Whence come you, fair stranger?' said he; and she, with tears, told\nhim she was homeless, houseless, motherless.  Then he fell in love\nwith her sweet face and soft words; so he asked her to be his bride,\nand she went with him to the palace, her heart full of gratitude to\nthe Sun, who had sent her such good luck.\n\nEverything she could desire was hers; only when the other women talked\nof their homes and their mothers she held her tongue, for she was\nashamed of hers.\n\nEvery one thought she must be some great princess, she was so lovely\nand magnificent, but in her heart of hearts she knew she was nothing\nof the kind; so every day she prayed to the Sun that her mother might\nnot find her out.\n\nBut one day, when she was sitting alone in her beautiful palace, her\nmother appeared, ragged and poor as ever.  She had heard of her\ndaughter's good fortune, and had come to share it.\n\n'And you _shall_ share it,' pleaded her daughter; 'I will give\nyou back far more than I ever took from you, if only you will go away\nand not disgrace me before my prince.'\n\n'Ungrateful creature!' stormed the mother, 'do you forget how it was\nthrough my act that your good fortune came to you?  If I had not sent\nyou into the world, where would you have found so fine a husband?'\n\n'I might have starved!' wept the daughter; 'and now you come to\ndestroy me again.  O great Sun, help me now!'\n\nJust then the prince came to the door, and the poor daughter was ready\nto die of shame and vexation; but when she turned to where her mother\nhad sat, there was nothing to be seen but a golden stool, the like of\nwhich had never been seen on earth before.\n\n'My princess,' asked the prince, astonished, 'whence comes that golden\nstool?'\n\n'From my mother's house,' replied the daughter, full of gratitude to\nthe great Sun, who had saved her from disgrace.\n\n'Nay! if there are such wondrous things to be seen in your mother's\nhouse,' quoth the prince gaily, 'I must needs go and see it.\nTo-morrow we will set out on our journey, and you shall show me all it\ncontains.'\n\nIn vain the daughter put forward one pretext and another:  the\nprince's curiosity had been aroused by the sight of the marvellous\ngolden stool, and he was not to be gainsaid.\n\nThen the daughter cried once more to the Sun, in her distress, saying,\n'O gracious Sun, help me now!'\n\nBut no answer came, and with a heavy heart she set out next day to\nshow the prince her mother's house.  A goodly procession they made,\nwith horsemen and footmen clothed in royal liveries surrounding the\nbride's palanquin, where sat the daughter, her heart sinking at every\nstep.\n\nAnd when they came within sight of where her mother's hut used to\nstand, lo! on the horizon showed a shining, flaming golden palace,\nthat glittered and glanced like solid sunshine.  Within and without\nall was gold,--golden servants and a golden mother!\n\nThere they stopped, admiring the countless marvels of the Sun palace,\nfor three days, and when the third was completed, the prince, more\nenamoured of his bride than ever, set his face homewards; but when he\ncame to the spot where he had first seen the glittering golden palace\nfrom afar, he thought he would just take one look more at the wondrous\nsight, and, lo! there was nothing to be seen save a low thatched\nhovel!\n\nThen he turned to his bride, full of wrath, and said, 'You are a\nwitch, and have deceived me by your detestable arts!  Confess, if you\nwould not have me strike you dead!'\n\nBut the daughter fell on her knees, saying, 'My gracious prince, I\nhave done nothing!  I am but a poor homeless girl.  It was the Sun\nthat did it.'\n\nThen she told the whole story from beginning to end, and the prince\nwas so well satisfied that from that day he too worshipped the Sun.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RUBY PRINCE\n\n\nOnce upon a time a poor Br\u00e2hman was walking along a dusty road, when\nhe saw something sparkling on the ground.  On picking it up, it turned\nout to be a small red stone, so, thinking it somewhat curious, the\nBr\u00e2hman put it into his pocket and went on his way.  By and by he came\nto a corn-merchant's shop, at the side of the road, and being hungry\nhe bethought himself of the red stone, and taking it out, offered it\nto the corn-dealer in exchange for a bite and sup, as he had no money\nin his pocket.\n\nNow, for a wonder, the shopkeeper was an honest man, so, after looking\nat the stone, he bade the Br\u00e2hman take it to the king, for, said he,\n'all the goods in my shop are not its equal in value!'\n\nThen the Br\u00e2hman carried the stone to the king's palace, and asked to\nbe shown into his presence.  But the prime minister refused at first\nto admit him; nevertheless, when the Br\u00e2hman persisted that he had\nsomething beyond price to show, he was allowed to see the king.\n\nNow the snake-stone was just like a ruby, red and fiery; therefore,\nwhen the king saw it he said, 'What dost thou want for this ruby, O\nBr\u00e2hman?'\n\nThen the Br\u00e2hman replied, 'Only a pound of meal to make a girdle cake,\nfor I am hungry!'\n\n'Nay,' said the king, 'it is worth more than that!'\n\nSo he sent for a _l\u00e2kh_ of rupees from his treasury, and counted\nit over to the Br\u00e2hman, who went on his way rejoicing.\n\nThen the king called his queen, and gave the jewel into her custody,\nwith many instructions for its safe keeping, for, said he, there was\nnot its like in the whole world.  The queen, determined to be careful,\nwrapped it in cotton-wool, and put it away in an empty chest, locking\nthe chest with double locks.\n\nSo there the ruby snake-stone lay for twelve long years.  At the end\nof that time the king sent for his queen, and said,' Bring me the\nruby; I wish to satisfy myself that it is safe,'\n\nThe queen took her keys, and going to her room, opened the chest, and,\nlo! the ruby was gone, and in its place was a handsome stripling!  She\nshut down the box again in a great hurry, and thought and thought what\nshe had better do to break the news to the king.\n\nNow as she thought, the king became impatient, and sent a servant to\nask what the delay was.  Then the queen bade the servant carry the box\nto the audience chamber, and going thither with her keys, she unlocked\nthe chest before the king.\n\nOut stepped the handsome stripling, to everybody's astonishment.\n\n'Who are you?' quoth the king, 'and where is my jewel?'\n\n'I am Ruby Prince' returned the boy; 'more than that you cannot know.'\n\nThen the king was angry, and drove him from the palace, but, being a\njust man, he first gave the boy a horse and arms, so that he might\nfight his way in the world.\n\nNow, as Prince Ruby journeyed on his steed, he came to the outskirts\nof the town, and saw an old woman making bread, and as she mixed the\nflour she laughed, and as she kneaded it she cried.\n\n'Why do you laugh and cry, mother?' quoth Prince Ruby.\n\n'Because my son must die to-day.' returned the woman.'  There is an\nogre in this town, which every day eats a young man.  It is my son's\nturn to provide the dinner, and that is why I weep.'\n\nThen Prince Ruby laughed at her fears, and said he would kill the ogre\nand set the town free; only the old woman must let him sleep a while\nin her house, and promise to wake him when the time came to go forth\nand meet the ogre.\n\n'What good will that do to me?' quoth the old woman; 'you will only be\nkilled, and then my son will have to go to-morrow.  Sleep on,\nstranger, if you will, but I will not wake you!'\n\nThen Prince Ruby laughed again.  'It is of no use, mother!' he said,\n'fight the ogre I will; and as you will not wake me I must even go to\nthe place of meeting and sleep there.'\n\nSo he rode off on his steed beyond the gates of the city, and, tying\nhis horse to a tree he lay down to sleep peacefully.  By and by the\nogre came for its dinner, but hearing no noise, and seeing no one, it\nthought the townspeople had failed in their bargain, and prepared to\nrevenge itself.  But Ruby Prince jumped up, refreshed by slumber, and\nfalling on the ogre, cut off its head and hands in a trice.  These he\nstuck on the gate of the town, and returning to the old woman's house,\ntold her he had killed the ogre, and lay down to sleep again.\n\nNow when the townspeople saw the ogre's head and hands peering over\nthe city gate, they thought the dreadful creature had come to revenge\nitself for some slight.  Therefore they ran to the king in a great\nfright, and he, thinking the old woman, whose son was to have formed\nthe ogre's dinner, must have played some trick, went with his officers\nto the place where she lived, and found her laughing and singing.\n\n'Why do you laugh?' he asked sternly.\n\n'I laugh because the ogre is killed!' she replied, 'and because the\nprince who killed it is sleeping in my house.'\n\nGreat was the astonishment at these words, yet, sure enough, when they\ncame to examine more closely, they saw that the ogre's head and hands\nwere those of a dead thing.\n\nThen the king said, 'Show me this valiant prince who sleeps so\nsoundly.'\n\nAnd when he saw the handsome young stripling, he recognised him as the\nlad whom he had driven from the palace.  Then he turned to his prime\nminister, and said, 'What reward should this youth have?'\n\nAnd the prime minister answered at once, 'Your daughter in marriage,\nand half your kingdom, is not too high a reward for the service he has\nrendered!'\n\nSo Ruby Prince was married in great state to the king's fair daughter,\nand half the kingdom was given him to rule.\n\nBut the young bride, much as she loved her gallant husband, was vexed\nbecause she knew not who he was, and because the other women in the\npalace twitted her with having married a stranger, a man come from\nNo-man's-land, whom none called brother.\n\nSo, day after day, she would ask her husband to tell her who he was\nand whence he came, and every day Ruby Prince would reply, 'Dear\nheart, ask me anything but that; for that you must not know!'\n\nYet still the princess begged, and prayed, and wept, and coaxed, until\none day, when they were standing by the river side, she whispered, 'If\nyou love me, tell me of what race you are!'\n\nNow Ruby Prince's foot touched the water as he replied, 'Dear heart,\nanything but that; for that you must not know!'\n\nStill the princess, imagining she saw signs of yielding in his face,\nsaid again, 'If you love me, tell me of what race you are!'\n\nThen Ruby Prince stood knee-deep in the water, and his face was sad as\nhe replied, 'Dear heart, anything but that; for that you must not\nknow!'\n\nOnce again the wilful bride put her question, and Ruby Prince was\nwaist-deep in the stream.\n\n'Dear heart, anything but that!'\n\n'Tell me! tell me!' cried the princess, and, lo! as she spoke, a\njewelled snake with a golden crown and ruby star reared itself from\nthe water, and with a sorrowful look towards her, disappeared beneath\nthe wave.\n\nThen the princess went home and wept bitterly, cursing her own\ncuriosity, which had driven away her handsome, gallant young husband.\nShe offered a reward of a bushel of gold to any one who would bring\nher any information about him; yet day after day passed, and still no\nnews came, so that the princess grew pale with weeping salt tears.  At\nlast a dancing-woman, one of those who attend the women's festivals,\ncame to the princess, and said, 'Last night I saw a strange thing.\nWhen I was out gathering sticks, I lay down to rest under a tree, and\nfell asleep.  When I awoke it was light, neither daylight nor\nmoonlight; and while I wondered, a sweeper came out from a snake-hole\nat the foot of the tree, and swept the ground with his broom; then\nfollowed a water-carrier, who sprinkled the ground with water; and\nafter that two carpet-bearers, who spread costly rugs, and then\ndisappeared.  Even as I wondered what these preparations meant, a\nnoise of music fell upon my ear, and from the snake-hole came forth a\ngoodly procession of young men, glittering with jewels, and one in the\nmidst, who seemed to be the king.  Then, while the musicians played,\none by one the young men rose and danced before the king.  But one,\nwho wore a red star on his forehead, danced but ill, and looked pale\nand wan.  That is all I have to say.'\n\nSo the next night the princess went with the dancing-girl to the tree,\nwhere, hiding themselves behind the trunk, they waited to see what\nmight happen.\n\nSure enough, after a while it became light that was neither sunlight\nnor moonlight; then the sweeper came forth and swept the ground, the\nwater-carrier sprinkled it, the carpet-bearers placed the rugs, and\nlast of all, to the sound of music the glittering procession swept\nout.  How the princess's heart beat when, in the young prince with the\nred star, she recognised her dearest husband; and how it ached when\nshe saw how pale he was, and how little he seemed to care to dance.\n\nThen, when all had performed before the king, the light went out, and\nthe princess crept home.  Every night she would go to the tree and\nwatch; but all day she would weep, because she seemed no nearer\ngetting back her lover.\n\nAt last, one day, the dancing-girl said to her, 'O princess, I have\nhit upon a plan.  The Snake-king is passionately fond of dancing, and\nyet it is only men who dance before him.  Now, if a woman were to do\nso, who knows but he might be so pleased that he would grant her\nanything she asked?  Let me try!'\n\n'Nay,' replied the princess, 'I will learn of you and try myself.'\n\nSo the princess learnt to dance, and in an incredibly short time she\nfar surpassed her teacher.  Never before or since was such a graceful,\ncharming, elegant dancer seen.  Everything about her was perfection.\nThen she dressed herself in finest muslins and silver brocades, with\ndiamonds on her veil, till she shone and sparkled like a star.\n\nWith beating heart she hid behind the tree and waited.  The sweeper,\nthe water-carrier, the carpet-bearers, came forth in turn, and then\nthe glittering procession.  Ruby Prince looked paler and sadder than\never, and when his turn came to dance, he hesitated, as if sick at\nheart; but from behind the tree stepped a veiled woman, clad in white,\nwith jewels flashing, and danced before the king.  Never was there\nsuch a dance!--everybody held their breath till it was done, and then\nthe king cried aloud, 'O unknown dancer, ask what you will, and it\nshall be yours!'\n\n'Give me the man for whom I danced!' replied the princess.\n\nThe Snake-king looked very fierce, and his eyes glittered, as he said,\n'You have asked something you had no right to ask, and I should kill\nyou were it not for my promise.  Take him, and begone!'\n\nQuick as thought, the princess seized Ruby Prince by the hand, dragged\nhim beyond the circle, and fled.\n\nAfter that they lived very happily, and though the women still taunted\nher, the princess held her tongue, and never again asked her husband\nof what race he came.\n\n[Illustration:  The snake king]\n\n\n\n\nNOTES TO TALES\n\n\n\nSIR BUZZ\n\n_Sir Buzz_.--In the vernacular M\u00eey\u00e2n Bh\u00fbng\u00e2, which is P\u00e2njab\u00ee for\nSir Beetle or Sir Bee.  The word is clearly connected with the common\nAryan roots _frem_, _bhran_, _bhah_, _bhin_, to\nbuzz as a bee or beetle.\n\n_Tigress_.--Not otherwise described by the narrators than as a\n_bh\u00fbt_, which is usually a malignant ghost, but here she is rather\na benevolent fairy.\n\n_Span_.--The word in the vernacular was _h\u00e2th_, the arm\nbelow the elbow, or conventionally half-a-yard, or 18 inches.\n\n_Hundredweight_.--The word here is _man_, an Indian weight\nof about 80 Ibs.\n\n_Princess Blossom_.--B\u00e2dsh\u00e2hz\u00e2di Ph\u00fbl\u00ee, Princess Flower, or\nPh\u00fbl\u00e2z\u00e2d\u00ee, Born-of-a-flower.\n\n_One-eyed Chief Constable_.--_Kotw\u00e1l_ is the word used in\nthe original; he is a very familiar figure in all oriental tales of\nMusalm\u00e2n origin, and must have been one in actual medi\u00e6val oriental\nlife, as he was the chief police (if such a term can be used with\npropriety) officer in all cities.  The expression 'one-eyed' is\nintroduced to show his evil nature, according to the well-known saying\nand universal belief--\n\n   _K\u00e2n\u00e2, k\u00e2chr\u00e2, hoch-gardan\u00e2:  yeh t\u00eenon kams\u00e2t!\n   Jablag has apn\u00e2 chale, to ko\u00ee na p\u00fbchhe but. _\n\n   Wall-eyed, blear-eyed, wry-necked:  these three are evil.\n   While his own resources last none asketh them for help.\n\n_Vampire_.-The word used was the Arabic _gh\u00fbl_ (in English\nusually ghowl or ghoul), the vampire, man-devouring demon, which\ncorresponds to the _bh\u00fbt_ and _pret_, the malignant ghosts\nof the Hindus.  It may be noted here that the Persian _ghol_ is\nthe _loup-garou_ of Europe, the man-devouring demon of the woods.\n\n_King Indar or Indra_--Was originally the beneficent god of\nheaven, giver of rain, _etc_., but in the later Hindu mythology\nhe took only second rank as ruler of the celestial beings who form the\nCourt of Indra (_Indar k\u00e2 akh\u00e2r\u00e2_ or _Indr\u00e2san Sabh\u00e2_),\nsynonymous with gaiety of life and licentiousness.\n\n\n\nTHE RAT'S WEDDING\n\n_Pipkin_--_Ghar\u00e2_, the common round earthen pot of India,\nknown to Anglo-Indians as 'chatty' (_ch\u00e2t\u00ee_).\n\n_Quarts of milk_--The vernacular word was _ser_, a weight of\n2 lbs.; natives always measure liquids by weight, not by capacity.\n\n_Wild plum-tree_--_Ber_, several trees go by this name, but\nthe species usually meant are (1) the _Zizyphus jujuba_, which is\ngenerally a garden tree bearing large plum-like fruit:  this is the\n_Pomum adami_ of Marco Polo; (2) the _Zizyphus nummularia_,\noften confounded with the camel-thorn, a valuable bush used for\nhedges, bearing a small edible fruit.  The former is probably meant\nhere.--See Stewart's _Punjab Plants_, pp. 43-44.\n\n_Millet_--_Pennisetum italicum_, a very small grain.\n\n_Green plums I sell_, _etc_.--The words are--\n\n  _Gader\u00ee gader! gader\u00ee gader!\n  R\u00e2j\u00e2 d\u00ee bet\u00ee ch\u00fbh\u00e2 le gi\u00e2 gher._\n\n  Green fruit! green fruit!\n  The rat has encompassed the R\u00e2j\u00e2's daughter.\n\n_Stool_--P\u00eerh\u00ee, a small, low, square stool with a straight\nupright back, used by native women.\n\n_Stewpan-lid_--_Sarposh_, usually the iron or copper cover\nused to cover _degch\u00ees_ or cooking-pots.\n\n\n\nTHE FAITHFUL PRINCE\n\n_Bahr\u00e2mgor_--This tale is a variant in a way of a popular story\npublished in the Panj\u00e2b in various forms in the vernacular, under the\ntitle of the _Story of Bahr\u00e2mgor and the Fairy Hasan B\u00e2no_.  The\nperson meant is no doubt Bahr\u00e2mgor, the Sassanian King of Persia,\nknown to the Greeks as Varanes V., who reigned 420-438 A.D.  The\nmodern stories, highly coloured with local folklore, represent the\nwell-known tale in India--through the Persian--of _Bahr\u00e2mgor and\nDil\u00e2r\u00e2m_.  Bahr\u00e2mgor was said to have been killed while hunting the\nwild ass (_gor_), by jumping into a pool after it, when both\nquarry and huntsman disappeared for ever.  He is said to be the father\nof Persian poetry.\n\n_Demons:  Demonsland_.--The words used are _deo_ or _dev_\nand _deost\u00e2n_; here the _deo_ is a malicious spirit by\nnature.\n\n_Jasdr\u00fbl_.--It is difficult to say who this can be, unless the\nname be a corruption of Jasrat R\u00e2\u00ee, through R\u00e2wal (_r\u00fbl_) = R\u00e2o\n= R\u00e2\u00ee; thus Jasrat R\u00e2\u00ee = Jasrat R\u00e2wal = Jasad Rawal = Jasadr\u00fbl. If\nthis be the case, it stands for Dasaratha, the father of R\u00e2ma Chandra,\nand so vicariously a great personage in Hindu story.  It is obvious\nthat in giving names to demons or fairies the name of any legendary\nor fabulous personage of fame will be brought under contribution.\n\n_Sh\u00e2hpasand_.--This is obviously a fancy name, like its prototype\nDilaram (Heart's Ease), and means King's Delight.  The variant Hasan\nBano means the Lady of Beauty.  In the Pushto version of probably the\noriginal story the name is Gulandama = Rosa, a variant probably of the\nFlower Princess.  See Plowden's _Translation of the Kalid-i-Afgh\u00e2n\u00ed_,\np. 209 ff.\n\n_Chief Constable_.--See note to Sir Buzz, _ante_.\n\n_Emerald Mountain_.--Koh-i-Zamurrad in the original.  The whole\nstory of Bahr\u00e2mgor is mixed up with the 'King of China,' and so it is\npossible that the legendary fame of the celebrated Green Mount in the\nWinter Palace at Pekin is referred to here (see Yule's _Marco Polo_,\nvol. i. pp. 326-327 and 330).  It is much more probable, however, that\nthe legends which are echoed here are local variants or memories of\nthe tale of the Old Man of the Mountain and the Assassins, so famous\nin many a story in Europe and Asia in the Middle Ages, _e.g.  The\nRomans of Bauduin de Sebourg_, where the lovely Ivorine is the\nheroine of the Red Mountain, and which has a general family likeness\nto this tale worth observing (see on this point generally Yule's\n_Marco Polo_, vol. i. pp. cxliv-cli and 132-140, and the notes to\n_Ind.  Ant._ vol. xi. p. 285 ff.; which last, though treated as\nsuperseded here, may serve to throw light on the subject).  It is\nevident that we are here treading on very interesting ground, alive\nwith many memories of the East, which it would be well worth while to\ninvestigate.\n\n_N\u00fbnak Chand_.--Judging by the analogy of the name N\u00e2naks\u00e2 (_sic_)\nin _Indian Fairy Tales_, pp. 114 ff. and 276, where N\u00e2naks\u00e2,\nobviously N\u00e2nak Sh\u00e2h or B\u00e2b\u00e2 N\u00e2nak, the founder of the Sikh religion,\n_ob_. 1538 A.D., is turned into a wonder-working _faq\u00eer_ of the\nordinary sort, it is a fair guess to say that this name is meant for him\ntoo.\n\n_Safed_.--On the whole it is worth while hazarding that this name\nis a corruption, or rather, an adaptation to a common word--_safed_,\nwhite--of the name Saifur for the demon in the older legends of\nBahr\u00e2mgor.  If so, it occurs there in connection with the universal\noriental name Faghf\u00fbr, for the Emperor of China.  Yule, _Marco Polo_,\nvol. ii. p. 110, points out that Faghf\u00fbr = Baghb\u00fbr = Bagh P\u00fbr, a Persian\ntranslation of the Chinese title Tien-tse, Son of Heaven, just as the\nname or title Sh\u00e2h P\u00fbr = the Son of the King. Perhaps this Saif\u00fbr in the\nsame way = Sh\u00e2h P\u00fbr.  But see note in _Ind.  Ant._ vol. xi. p. 288.\n\n_Antimony_.--Black sulphuret of antimony, used for pencilling the\neyes and beautifying them.  There are two preparations for darkening the\neyes--_surma_ and _k\u00e2jal_. _K\u00e2jal_ is fine lamp-black, but\nthe difference between its use and that of _surma_ is that the former\nis used for making a blot to avoid the evil eye (_na*ar_) and the\nlatter merely as a beautifier.\n\n_Yech-cap_.--For a detailed account of the _yech_ or _y\u00e2ch_\nof Kashm\u00eer see _Ind.  Ant._ vol. xi. pp. 260-261 and footnotes.\nShortly, it is a humorous though powerful sprite in the shape of an\nanimal smaller than a cat, of a dark colour, with a white cap on its\nhead.  The feet are so small as to be almost invisible. When in this\nshape it has a peculiar cry--_chot, chot, ch\u00fb-\u00fb-ot, chot_.  All this\nprobably refers to some night animal of the squirrel (? civet cat) tribe.\nIt can assume any shape, and, if its white cap can be got possession of,\nit becomes the servant of the possessor.  The cap renders the human wearer\ninvisible. Mythologically speaking, the _yech_ is the descendant of\nthe classical Hindu _yaksha_, usually described as an inoffensive,\nharmless sprite, but also as a malignant imp.\n\n_The farther you climb the higher it grows_.--This is evidently\nborrowed from the common phenomenon of ridge beyond ridge, each in turn\ndeceiving the climber into the belief that he has reached the top.\n\n\n\nTHE BEAR'S BAD BARGAIN\n\n_Khichr\u00ee_.--A dish of rice and pulse (_d\u00e2l_).\n\n_The weights the bear carries._--These are palpable\nexaggerations; thus in India the regulation camel-load is under 3\ncwts., but they will carry up to 5 cwts.  A strong hill-man in the\nHim\u00e2layas will carry 1/2 cwt., and on occasion almost a whole cwt. up\nthe hill.\n\n\n\nPRINCE LIONHEART\n\n_Lionheart_.--The full vernacular title of this Prince was Sherdil\nShahry\u00e2r Shahr\u00e2b\u00e2d, Lionheart, the Friend and Restorer of the City.\nAll these names are common titles of oriental monarchs.\n\n_Knifegrinder_, _Blacksmith_, _Carpenter_.--In the\nvernacular _s\u00e2nw\u00e2l\u00e2_, _loh\u00e1r_, _tarkh\u00e2n_.  The first in\nthe East, like his brother in the West, is an itinerant journeyman, who\nwanders about with a wheel for grinding.\n\n_Demon_.--Here _bh\u00fbt_, a malignant ghost or vampire, but as\nhis doings in the tale correspond more to those of a _deo_, demon,\nthan of a _bh\u00fbt_, the word has been translated by 'demon.'\n\n_P\u00eepal_.--Constantly occurring in folk-tales, is the _Ficus\nreligiosa_ of botanists, and a large fig-tree much valued for its\nshade.  It is sacred to Hindus, and never cut by them.  One reason\nperhaps may be that its shade is very valuable and its wood valueless.\nIts leaves are used in divination to find out witches, thieves, liars,\n_etc_., and it is the chosen haunt of ghosts and hobgoblins of all\nsorts--hence its frequent appearance in folk-lore.\n\n_Mannikin_.--The word used was the ordinary expression _maddhr\u00e2_,\nPanj\u00e2b\u00ee for a dwarf or pigmy.\n\n_Ghost_.--_Churel_, properly the ghost of a woman who dies in\nchildbirth.  The belief in these malignant spirits is universal, and a\nsource of much terror to natives by night.  Their personal appearance is\nfairly described in the text:  very ugly and black, breastless,\nprotruding in stomach and navel, and feet turned back.  This last is the\nreal test of a _churel_, even in her beautiful transformation.  A\ndetailed account of the _churel_ and beliefs in her and the methods\nof exorcism will be found in the _Calcutta Review_, No. cliii. p.\n180 ff.\n\n_Jinn_.--A Muhammadan spirit, properly neither man, angel, nor\ndevil, but superhuman.  According to correct Muhammadan tradition, there\nare five classes of _Jinns_ worth noting here for information--J\u00e2nn,\nJinn, Shait\u00e2n, 'Ifr\u00eet, and M\u00e2rid.  They are all mentioned in Musalm\u00e2n\nfolk-tales, and but seldom distinguished in annotations.  In genuine\nIndian folk-tales, however, the character ascribed to the Jinn, as here,\nhas been borrowed from the Rakshasa, which is Hindu in origin, and an\nogre in every sense of the European word.\n\n_Smell of a man_.--The expression used is always in the vernacular\n_m\u00e2nushgandh_, _i.e._ man-smell.  The direct Sanskrit descent\nof the compound is worthy of remark.\n\n_Starling_.--_Main\u00e2_:  the _Gracula religiosa_, a talking\nbird, much valued, and held sacred.  It very frequently appears in\nfolk-tales, like the parrot, probably from being so often domesticated by\npeople of means and position for its talking qualities.\n\n_Cup_.--_Don\u00e2_, a cup made of leaves, used by the very poor as\na receptacle for food.\n\n_Wise woman_.--_Kutn\u00ee_ and _paphe-kutn\u00ee_ were the words\nused, of which perhaps 'wise woman' is the best rendering. _Kutn\u00ee_\nis always a term of abuse and reproach, and is used in the sense of witch\nor wise woman, but the bearers do not seem to possess, as a rule, any\nsupernatural powers.  Hag, harridan, or any similar term will usually\ncorrectly render the word.\n\n_Flying palanquin_.--The words used for this were indifferently\n_dol\u00e2_, a bridal palanquin, and _burj_, a common word for a\nballoon.\n\n\n\nTHE LAMBIKIN\n\n_Lambikin_.--The words used were Panj\u00e2b\u00ee, _lel\u00e2_, _ler\u00e2_,\n_lekr\u00e2_, and _lelkar\u00e2_, a small or young lamb.\n\n_Lambikin's Songs_.--Of the first the words were Panj\u00e2b\u00ee--\n\n  _N\u00e2n\u00ee kol j\u00e2w\u00e2ng\u00fb:\n  Mot\u00e2 t\u00e2j\u00e2 \u00e2w\u00e2ng\u00e2\n  Pher t\u00fbn main n\u00fbn kh\u00e2w\u00e2ng\u00e2._\n\nOf the second song--\n\n  _Wan pi\u00e2 lelkar\u00e2:  wan p\u00ee t\u00fb.\n  Chal dhamkiri\u00e2!  Dham!  K\u00e2!  Dh\u00fb!_\n\nThese the rhymes render exactly.  The words _dham_, _k\u00e2_,\n_dh\u00fb_ are pronounced sharply, so as to imitate the beats on a\ndrum.\n\n_Drumikin_.--The _dhamk\u00eeri\u00e2_ or _dhamkir\u00ee_ in Panj\u00e2b\u00ee is\na small drum made by stretching leather across a wide-mouthed earthen cup\n(_piy\u00e2l\u00e2_).  The Jatts make it of a piece of hollow wood, 6 inches\nby 3 inches, with its ends covered with leather.\n\n\n\nBOPOLUCHI\n\n_Bopol\u00fbch\u00ee_.--Means Trickster.\n\n_Uncle:  uncle-in-law_.--The words used were _m\u00e2m\u00fb_, mother's\nbrother, and _patiauhr\u00e2_, husband's (or father-in-law's) younger\nbrother.\n\n_Pedlar_.--_Wanj\u00e2r\u00e2_ or _banj\u00e2r\u00e2_ (from _wanaj_ or\n_banaj_, a bargain), a class of wandering pedlars who sell spices,\n_etc_.\n\n_Robber_.--The word used was _thag_, _lit._ a deceiver.\nThe _Thags_ are a class but too well known in India as those who\nmake their living by deceiving and strangling travellers. Meadows\nTaylor's somewhat sensational book, _The Confessions of a Thug_, has\nmade their doings familiar enough, too, in England.  In the Indian Penal\nCode a _thag_ is defined as a person habitually associated with\nothers for the purpose of committing robbery or child-stealing by means\nof murder.\n\n_Crow's, etc., verses,_.--The original words were--\n\n  _Bopo L\u00fbchi!\n  Aqlon ghuth\u00ee,\n  Thag n\u00e2l thag\u00ee gai._\n\n  Bopo L\u00fbchi!\n  You have lost your wits,\n  And have been deceived by a _thag_.\n\n_Bridal scarlet_.--Every Panj\u00e2b\u00ee bride, however poor, wears a\ndress of scarlet and gold for six months, and if rich, for two years.\n\n\n\nPRINCESS AUBERGINE\n\n_Princess Aubergine,_--The vernacular name for the story is\n_Baingan B\u00e2dsh\u00e2hz\u00e2d\u00ee._ The Baingan, baigan, begun, or bh\u00e2nt\u00e2 is\nthe _Solanum melongena,_ _i.e_. the egg-plant, or\n_aubergine._ Europeans in India know it by the name of\n_brinj\u00e2l;_ it is a very common and popular vegetable in the\nrains.\n\n_Exchanging veils,_--To exchange veils among women, and to\nexchange turbans among men, is a common way of swearing friendship\namong Panj\u00e2b\u00ees.  The women also drink milk out of the same cup on such\noccasions.\n\n_Nine-lakh necklace_,--The introduction of the _Nau-lakkh\u00e2\nh\u00e2r,_ or nine-_l\u00e2kh_ necklace, is a favourite incident in\nIndian folk-tales. _Nau-lakkh\u00e2_ means worth nine l\u00e2khs, or nine\nhundred thousand rupees.  Frequently magic powers are ascribed to this\nnecklace, but the term _nau-lakkh\u00e2_ has come also to be often\nused conventionally for 'very valuable,' and so is applied to gardens,\npalaces, _etc_.  Probably all rich Rajas have a hankering to\nreally possess such a necklace, and the last Mah\u00e2r\u00e2j\u00e2 of Pati\u00e2l\u00e2,\nabout fifteen years ago, bought a real one of huge diamonds, including\nthe Sansy, for Rupees 900,000.  It is on show always at the palace in\nthe fort at Pati\u00e2l\u00e2.\n\n\n\nVALIANT VICKY\n\n_Valiant Vicky, the Brave Weaver,_--In the original the title is\n'Fatteh Kh\u00e2n, the valiant weaver.'  Victor Prince is a very fair\ntranslation of the name Fatteh Kh\u00e2n.  The original says his nickname\nor familiar name was Fatt\u00fb, which would answer exactly to Vicky for\nVictor.  Fatt\u00fb is a familiar (diminutive form) of the full name Fatteh\nKh\u00e2n.  See _Proper Names of Panj\u00e2b\u00ees, passim,_ for the\nexplanation of this.\n\n\n\nTHE SON OF SEVEN MOTHERS\n\nFor a long and interesting variant of this tale see _Indian\nAntiquary,_ vol. x. p. 151 ff.\n\n_Fak\u00eer,_--Properly _faq\u00eer_, is a Muhammadan devotee, but in\nmodern India the term is used for any kind of holy man, whatever be\nhis religion.  For instance, the 'Salvation Army' were styled at\nLahore, at a meeting of natives, by a Sikh gentleman of standing, as\n_Vil\u00e2yat\u00ee_ _fuqr\u00e2_, European _faq\u00eers_.  The power of\ngranting children to barren women is ascribed in story to all saints\nand holy personages of fame.\n\n_Witch_--The word used was _d\u00e2yan_.  In the Panj\u00e2b a woman\nwith the evil eye (which by the way is not necessarily in India\npossessed by the wicked only, see _Panj\u00e2b Notes and Queries_,\n1883-84, _passim_), who knows the _d\u00e2yan k\u00e2 mantar_, or\ncharm for destroying life by taking out the heart.  The word in its\nvarious modern forms is derived from the classical _d\u00e2kin\u00ee_, the\nfemale demon attendant on Kali, the goddess of destruction.\n\n_J\u00f4gi's wonderful cow_--The _j\u00f4gi_ is a Hindu ascetic, but\nlike the word _faq\u00eer_, _j\u00f4gi_ is often used for any kind of\nholy man, as here.  Supernatural powers are very commonly ascribed to\nthem, as well as the universal attribute of granting sons.\nClassically the _y\u00f4gi_ is the devotee seeking _yoga_, the\nunion of the living with the sublime soul.  The wonderful cow is the\nmodern fabulously productive cow _K\u00e2mdhain_, representing the\nclassical _K\u00e2mdhenu_, the cow of Indra that granted all desires.\nHence, probably, the dragging in here of Indra for the master of the\n_j\u00f4gi_ of the tale. _K\u00e2mdhain_ and _K\u00e2mdhenu_ are both\ncommon terms to the present day for cows that give a large quantity of\nmilk.\n\n_Eighteen thousand demons_--No doubt the modern\nrepresentatives--the specific number given being, as is often the\ncase, merely conventionally--of the guards of Indra, who were in\nancient days the _Maruts_ or Winds, and are in modern times his\nCourt.  See note.\n\n\n\nTHE SPARROW AND THE CROW\n\n_The Song_.--The form of words in the original is important.  The\nfollowing gives the variants and the strict translation--\n\n  _T\u00fb Chhappar D\u00e2s, Main K\u00e2ng D\u00e2s, Deo paneriy\u00e2, Dhoven\n  chucheriy\u00e2, Kh\u00e2wen khijeriy\u00e2, Dekh chiriy\u00e2 k\u00e2 ch\u00fbchl\u00e2, Main\n  k\u00e2ng sapariy\u00e2._\n\n  You are Mr. Tank,\n  I am Mr. Crow,\n  Give me water,\n  That I may wash my beak,\n  And eat my _khichr\u00ee_,\n  See the bird's playfulness,\n  I am a clean crow.\n\n  _T\u00fb Loh\u00e2r D\u00e2s, Main K\u00e2ng D\u00e2s, T\u00fb deo pharw\u00e2, Main khod\u00fbn\n  ghasarw\u00e2, Khil\u00e2wen bhainsarw\u00e2, Chowen d\u00fbdharw\u00e2, Pil\u00e2wen\n  hirnarw\u00e2, Toren singarw\u00e2, Kh\u00f4den chalarw\u00e2, Nik\u00e2len panarw\u00e2,\n  Dhoven chunjarw\u00e2, Kh\u00e2wen khijarw\u00e2, Dehk chiriy\u00e2 k\u00e2 ch\u00fbchl\u00e2,\n  Main k\u00e2ng saparw\u00e2._\n\n  You are Mr. Blacksmith,\n  I am Mr. Crow,\n  You give me a spade,\n  And I will dig the grass,\n  That I may give it the buffalo to eat,\n  And take her milk,\n  And give it the deer to drink,\n  And break his horn,\n  And dig the hole,\n  And take out the water,\n  And wash my beak,\n  And eat my _khichr\u00ee_,\n  See the bird's playfulness,\n  I am a clean crow.\n\n\n\nTHE BRAHMAN AND THE TIGER\n\n_The Tiger, the Br\u00e2hman, and the Jackal_.  A very common and\npopular Indian tale.  Under various forms it is to be found in most\ncollections.  Variants exist in the _Bh\u00e2gavata Pur\u00e2na_ and the\n_Gul Bak\u00e2ol\u00e2_, and in the _Amv\u00e2r-i-Suhel\u00ee_.  A variant is\nalso given in the _Indian Antiquary_, vol. xii. p. 177.\n\n_Buffalo's complaint_.--The work of the buffalo in the oil-press\nis the synonym all India over--and with good reason--for hard and\nthankless toil for another's benefit.\n\n_As miserable as a fish out of water_.--In the original the\nallusion is to a well-known proverb--_mand\u00e2 h\u00e2l w\u00e2ng Jatt jhar\u00ee\nde_--as miserable as a Jatt in a shower.  Any one who has seen the\nappearance of the Panj\u00e2b\u00ee cultivator attempting to go to his fields on\na wet, bleak February morning, with his scant clothing sticking to his\nlimp and shivering figure, while the biting wind blows through him,\nwill well understand the force of the proverb.\n\n\n\nTHE KING OF THE CROCODILES\n\n_King of the Crocodiles_--In the original the title is B\u00e2dsh\u00e2h\nGhari\u00e2l.\n\n_Lying amid the crops_--It is commonly said in the Panj\u00e2b that\ncrocodiles do so.\n\n_Demons of crocodiles_.--The word used for _demon_ here was\n_jinn_, which is remarkable in this connection.\n\n_Henna_--_Mehnd\u00ee_ or _hin\u00e2_ is the _Lawsonia\nalba_, used for staining the finger and toe nails of the bride\nred.  The ceremony of _sanchit_, or conveying the _henna_ to\nthe bride by a party of the bride's friends, is the one alluded to.\n\n\n\nLITTLE ANKLEBONE\n\n_Little Anklebone_--This tale appears to be unique among Indian\nfolk-tales, and is comparable with Grimm's Singing Bone.  It is\ncurrent in the _B\u00e2r_ or wilds of the Gujr\u00e2nw\u00e2l\u00e2 District, among\nthe cattle-drovers' children.  Wolves are very common there, and the\nstory seems to point to a belief in some invisible shepherd, a sort of\nSpirit of the B\u00e2r, whose pipe may be heard.  The word used for 'Little\nAnkle-bone' was _G\u00eer\u00ee_, a diminutive form of the common word\n_gitt\u00e2_.  In the course of the story in the original, Little\nAnklebone calls himself Giteta Ram, an interesting instance of the\nprocess of the formation of Panj\u00e2b\u00ee proper names.\n\n_Auntie_--M\u00e2s\u00ee, maternal aunt.\n\n_Tree that weeps over yonder pond_--_Ban_, _i.e.\nSalvadora oleoides_, a common tree of the Panj\u00e2b forests.\n\n_Jackal howled_--A common evil omen.\n\n_Marble basins_--The word used was _daur\u00e2_, a wide-mouthed\nearthen vessel, and also in palaces a marble drinking-trough for\nanimals.\n\n_The verses_,--The original and literal translation are as\nfollows--\n\n  _Ky\u00fbn garj\u00e2e badal\u00e2 garkan\u00e2e?\n  Gaj karak s\u00e2re des;\n  Ohn\u00e2n hirn\u00ee\u00e2n de than pasm\u00e2e:\n  Gitet\u00e2 R\u00e2m g\u00ee\u00e2 pardes!_\n\n  Why echo, O thundering clouds?\n  Roar and echo through all the land;\n  The teats of the does yonder are full of milk:\n  Gitet\u00e2 R\u00e2m has gone abroad!\n\n\n\nTHE CLOSE ALLIANCE\n\n_Providence_--_Khud\u00e2_ and _Allah_ were the words for\nProvidence or God in this tale, it being a Muhammadan one.\n\n_Kab\u00e2bs_--Small pieces of meat roasted or fried on skewers with\nonions and eggs:  a favourite Muhammadan dish throughout the East.\n\n_His own jackal_--From time immemorial the tiger has been\nsupposed to be accompanied by a jackal who shows him his game and gets\nthe leavings as his wages.  Hence the Sanskrit title of\n_vy\u00e2ghra-n\u00e2yaka_ or tiger-leader for the jackal.\n\n_Pigtail_--The Kashm\u00eer\u00ee woman's hair is drawn to the back of the\nhead and finely braided.  The braids are then gathered together and,\nbeing mixed with coarse woollen thread, are worked into a very long\nplait terminated by a thick tassel, which reaches almost down to the\nankles.  It is highly suggestive of the Chinese pigtail, but it is far\nmore graceful.\n\n\n\nTHE TWO BROTHERS\n\n_Barley meal instead of wheaten cakes_--_Jau k\u00ee roti_,\nbarley bread, is the poor man's food, as opposed to _gih\u00fbn k\u00ee\nrot\u00ee_, wheaten bread, the rich man's food.  Barley bread is apt to\nproduce flatulence.\n\n_With empty stomachs, etc._--The saying is well known and runs\nthus--\n\n  _Kah\u00een mat j\u00e2o kh\u00e2l\u00ee pet.\n  Hove m\u00e2gh y\u00e2 hove jeth._\n\n  Go nowhere on an empty stomach,\n  Be it winter or be it summer.\n\nVery necessary and salutary advice in a feverish country like India.\n\n_If any man eats me, etc._--Apparent allusion to the saying\nrendered in the following verse--\n\n  _Jo nar tot\u00e2 m\u00e2rkar kh\u00e2ve per ke heth, Kuchh sans\u00e2 man na\n  dhare, woh hog\u00e2 r\u00e2j\u00e2 jeth. Jo main\u00e2 ko m\u00e2r kh\u00e2, man men rakhe\n  dh\u00eer; Kuchh chint\u00e2 man na kare, woh sad\u00e2 raheg\u00e2 waz\u00eer._\n\n  Who kills a parrot and eats him under a tree,\n  Should have no doubt in his mind, he will be a great king.\n  Who kills and eats a starling, let him be patient:\n  Let him not be troubled in his mind, he will be minister for life.\n\n_Snake-demon_--The word was _isd\u00e2r_, which represents the\nPersian _izhdah\u00e2_, _izhd\u00e2r_, or _izhdar_, a large\nserpent, python.\n\n_Sacred elephant_.--The reference here is to the legend of the\n_safed h\u00e2th\u00ee_ or _dhaul\u00e2 gaj_, the white elephant. He is the\nelephant-headed God Ganesa, and as such is, or rather was formerly,\nkept by R\u00e2j\u00e2s as a pet, and fed to surfeit every Tuesday (_Mangalw\u00e2r_)\nwith sweet cakes (_ch\u00fbr\u00ees_).  After which he was taught to go down\non his knees to the R\u00e2j\u00e2 and swing his trunk to and fro, and this was\ntaken as sign that he acknowledged his royalty. He was never ridden\nexcept occasionally by the R\u00e2j\u00e2 himself.  Two sayings, common to the\npresent day, illustrate these ideas--'_Woh to Mah\u00e2r\u00e2j\u00e2 hai, dhaule gaj\npar sow\u00e2r_:  he is indeed king, for he rides the white elephant.'\nAnd '_Mah\u00e2r\u00e2j\u00e2 dhaul\u00e2 gajpati kidoh\u00e2\u00ee_:  (I claim the) protection\nof the great king, the lord of the white elephant.'  The idea appears to\nbe a very old one, for \u00c6lian (_Hist.  Anim._ vol. iii. p. 46),\nquoting Megasthenes, mentions the white elephant.  See M'Crindle,\n_India as described by Megasthenes and Arrian_, pp. 118, 119;\n_Indian Antiquary_, vol. vi. p. 333 and footnote.\n\n_Brass drinking bowl_.--The _lot\u00e2_, universal throughout India.\n\n_Ogre_.--In the original _r\u00e2khas_ = the Sanskrit _r\u00e2khasa_,\ntranslated ogre advisedly for the following reasons:--The _r\u00e2khasa_\n(_r\u00e2khas_, an injury) is universal in Hindu mythology as a\nsuperhuman malignant fiend inimical to man, on whom he preys, and that\nis his character, too, throughout Indian folk-tales.  He is elaborately\ndescribed in many an orthodox legend, but very little reading between\nthe lines in these shows him to have been an alien enemy on the borders\nof Aryan tribes.  The really human character of the _r\u00e2khasa_ is\nabundantly evident from the stories about him and his doings.  He\noccupies almost exactly the position in Indian tales that the ogre does\nin European story, and for the same reason, as he represents the memory\nof the savage tribes along the old Aryan borders.  The ogre, no doubt, is\nthe Uighur T\u00e2tar magnified by fear into a malignant demon.  For the\n_r\u00e2khasa_ see the _Dictionaries_ of Dowson, Garrett, and Monier\nWilliams, _in verbo_; Muir's _Sanskrit Texts_, vol. ii. p.\n420, _etc_.:  and for the ogre see _Panj\u00e2b Notes and Queries_,\nvol. i., in verbo.\n\n_Goat_.--The ogre's eating a goat is curious:  _cf_. the\nSanskrit name _ajagara_, goat-eater, for the python (nowadays\n_ajgar_), which corresponds to the _izhdah\u00e2_ or serpent-demon\non p. 131.\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE LIZARD.\n\n_The verses_.--In the original they are--\n\n  Ch\u00e2nd\u00ee d\u00e2 mer\u00e2 chauntr\u00e2, ko\u00ee son\u00e2 lip\u00e2\u00ee!\n  K\u00e2ne men mer\u00e2 g\u00fbkr\u00fb, sh\u00e2hz\u00e2d\u00e2 baith\u00e2 hai!\n\n  My platform is of silver, plastered with gold!\n  Jewels are in my ears, I sit here a prince!\n\n_The verses_.--In the original they are--\n\n  _Had\u00ee d\u00e2 ter\u00e2 chauntr\u00e2, ko\u00ee gobar lipa\u00ee!\n  K\u00e2ne men ter\u00ee j\u00fbt\u00ee; ko\u00ee g\u00eedar baith\u00e2 hai!_\n\n  Thy platform is of bones, plastered with cow-dung!\n  Shoes are in thy ears; some jackal sits there!\n\n\n\nTHE SPARROW'S MISFORTUNE\n\n_Verses_.--In the original these are--\n\n  _Saukan rangan men charh\u00ee,\n  Main bh\u00ee rangan men par\u00ee,_\n\n  My co-wife got dyed,\n  I too fell into the vat.\n\n_Verses_.--In the original--\n\n  _Ik sar\u00ee, ik bal\u00ee;\n  Ik hinak mode charh\u00ee,_\n\n  One is vexed and one grieved;\n  And one is carried laughing on the shoulder.\n\nThe allusion here is to a common tale.  The story goes that a man who\nhad two wives wanted to cross a river.  Both wives wanted to go across\nfirst with him, so in the end, leaving the elder to walk, he took the\nyounger on his shoulder, who mocked the elder with the words--\n\n  _Ik sar\u00ee, d\u00fb\u00ee bal\u00ee;\n  D\u00fb\u00ee j\u00e2\u00ee m\u00fbnde charh\u00ee._\n\n  First she was vexed, next she grieved;\n  While the other went across on the shoulder.\n\nHence the sting of the old sparrow's taunt.\n\n_Verses_.--In the original--\n\n  _Ik chamkhat h\u00fb\u00ee;\n  Chir\u00ee rangan charh\u00ee;\n  Chir\u00e2 bedan kar\u00ee;\n  P\u00eepal patte jhar\u00ee;\n  Mah\u00een sing jhar\u00ee;\n  Na\u00een bah\u00ed kh\u00e2r\u00ee;\n  Ko\u00efl h\u00fb\u00ee k\u00e2n\u00ee;\n  Bhagt\u00fb diwan\u00ee;\n  Band\u00ee padn\u00ee;\n  R\u00e2n\u00ee n\u00e2chn\u00ee;\n  Putr dholk\u00ee baj\u00e2n\u00ee;\n  R\u00e2j\u00e2 sarg\u00ee baj\u00e2n\u00ee;_\n\n  One hen painted,\n  And the other was dyed,\n  And the cock loved her,\n  So the _p\u00eepal_ shed its leaves,\n  And the buffalo her horns,\n  So the river became salt,\n  And the cuckoo lost an eye,\n  So Bhagt\u00fb went mad,\n  And the maid took to swearing,\n  So the Queen took to dancing,\n  And the Prince took to drumming,\n  And the King took to thrumming.\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCESS PEPPERINA\n\n_Princess Pepperina_.--In the original _Sh\u00e2hz\u00e2d\u00ee Mirch\u00e2_ or\n_Filfil Sh\u00e2hz\u00e2d\u00ee:  mirch_ is the _Capsicum annuum_ or common\nchilli, green and red.\n\n_Sheldrakes_.--The _chakw\u00e2_, male, and _chakw\u00ee_, female,\nis the ruddy goose or sheldrake, known to Europeans as the Br\u00e2hman\u00ee\nduck, _Anas casarca_ or _Casarca rutila_.  It is found all over\nIndia in the winter, and its plaintive night cry has given rise to a\nvery pretty legend.  Two lovers are said to have been for some\nindiscretion turned into Br\u00e2hman\u00ee ducks, and condemned to pass the\nnight apart from each other, on the opposite sides of a river.  All\nnight long each asks the other in turn if it shall join its mate,\nand the answer is always 'no.'  The words supposed to be said are--\n\n  _Chakw\u00e2, main \u00e2w\u00e2n?  N\u00e2, Chakw\u00ee!_\n  _Chakw\u00ee, main \u00e2w\u00e2n?  N\u00e2, Chakw\u00e2!_\n\n  Chakw\u00e2, shall I come?  No, Chakw\u00ee!\n  Chakw\u00ee, shall I come?  No, Chakw\u00e2!\n\n\n\nPEASIE AND BEANSIE\n\n_Peasie and Beansie_, p. 167.--In the original Motho and M\u00fbngo.\n_Motho_ is a vetch, _Phaseolus aconitifolius_; and\n_m\u00fbng_ is a variety of pulse, _Phaseolus mungo_.  Peasie and\nBeansie are very fair translations of the above.\n\n_Plum-tree_, p. 167.--_Ber, Zizyphus jujuba._\n\n\n\nTHE SNAKE-WOMAN\n\n_King 'Ali Mard\u00e2n_--'Ali Mard\u00e2n Kh\u00e2n belongs to modern history,\nhaving been Governor (not King, as the tale has it) of Kashm\u00eer, under\nthe Emperor Sh\u00e2h Jah\u00e2n, about A.D. 1650, and very famous in India in\nmany ways.  He was one of the most magnificent governors Kashm\u00eer ever\nhad, and is now the best-remembered.\n\n_Snake-Woman_--In the original _Lami\u00e2_, said in Kashm\u00eer to\nbe a snake 200 years old, and to possess the power of becoming a\nwoman.  In India, especially in the hill districts, it is called\n_Yahaww\u00e2_.  In this tale the _Lami\u00e2_ is described as being a\n_W\u00e2sdeo_, a mythical serpent. _W\u00e2sdeo_ is the same as\nV\u00e2sudeva, a descendant of Vasudeva.  Vasudeva was the earthly father\nof Krishna and of his elder brother Balar\u00e2ma, so Balar\u00e2ma was a\nV\u00e2sudeva.  Balar\u00e2ma in the classics is constantly mixed up with S\u00e8sha\n(now Sesh N\u00e2g), a king of serpents, and with V\u00e2suki (B\u00e2sak N\u00e2g), also\na king of serpents; while Ananta, the infinite, the serpent whose\nlegend combines that of V\u00e2suki and S\u00easha, is mixed not only with\nBalar\u00e2ma, but also with Krishna.  Hence the name W\u00e2sdeo for a\nserpent.  The Lami\u00e2 is not only known in India from ancient times to\nthe present day, but also in Tibet and Central Asia generally, and in\nEurope from ancient to medi\u00e6val times, and always as a malignant\nsupernatural being.  For discussions on her, see notes to the above in\nthe _Indian Antiquary_, vol. xi. pp. 230-232, and the discussion\nfollowing, entitled 'Lami\u00e2 or \u039b\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1' pp. 232-235.  Also\n_Comparetti's Researches into the Book of Sindib\u00e2d_, Folklore\nSociety's ed., _passim_.\n\n_Dal Lake_--The celebrated lake at Srinagar in Kashm\u00eer.\n\n_Emperor of China's Handmaiden_--A common way of explaining the\norigin of unknown girls in Mus\u00e2lman tales.  Kashm\u00eer is essentially a\nMusalm\u00e2n country._\n\n_Shalim\u00e2r gardens_.--At Srinagar, made by the Emperor Jahangir,\nwho preceded 'Ali Mard\u00e2n Kh\u00e2n by a generation, for N\u00fbr Mahal.  Moore,\n_Lalla Rookh_, transcribes in describing them the well-known\nPersian verses in the D\u00eew\u00e2n-i-Kh\u00e2s (Hall of Private Audience) at Delhi\nand elsewhere--\n\n  'And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,\n  It is this, it is this.'\n\nThe verses run really thus--\n\n  _Agar fird\u00fbs ba r\u00fb-e-zam\u00een ast,\n  Ham\u00een ast o ham\u00een ast o ham\u00een ast!_\n\n  If there be an Elysium on the face of the earth,\n  It is here, and it is here, and it is here!\n\nSh\u00e2h Jah\u00e2n built the Sh\u00e2lim\u00e2r gardens at Lahor, in imitation of those\nat Srinagar, and afterwards Ranj\u00eet Singh restored them.  They are on\nthe Amritsar Road.\n\n_Gang\u00e2bal_.--A holy lake on the top of Mount Har\u00e2mukh, 16,905 feet,\nin the north of Kashm\u00eer.  It is one of the sources of the Jhelam River,\nand the scene of an annual fair about 20th August.\n\n_Khichr\u00ee_.--Sweet khichr\u00ee consists of rice, sugar, cocoa-nut,\nraisins, cardamoms, and aniseed; salt khichr\u00ee of pulse and rice.\n\n_The stone in the ashes_.--The _p\u00e2ras_, in Sanskrit\n_sparsamani_, the stone that turns what it touches into gold.\n\n_Attock_.--In the original it is the Atak River (the Indus) near\nHoti Mard\u00e2n, which place is near Atak or Attock.  The similarity in\nthe names 'Ali Mardan and Hot\u00ee Mard\u00e2n probably gave rise to this\nstatement.  They have no connection whatever.\n\n\n\nTHE WONDERFUL RING\n\n_The Wonderful Ring_.--In the vernacular _'ajab mundr\u00e2_:  a\nvariant of the inexhaustible box.\n\n_Holy place_.--_Chaunk\u00e2_, a square place plastered with\ncow-dung, used by Hindus when cooking or worshipping.  The cow-dung\nsanctifies and purifies it.\n\n_Aunt_.--_M\u00e2s\u00ee_, maternal aunt.\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE PEA-HEN\n\n_Plums_, p. 195.--_Ber, Zyziphus jujuba_.\n\n\n\nTHE GRAIN OF CORN\n\n_The verses_.--In the original they were--\n\n  _Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 bill\u00ee ke p\u00e2s,\n  'Bill\u00ee, r\u00ee bill\u00ee, m\u00fbs\u00e2 kh\u00e2og\u00ee'\n  Kh\u00e2t\u00ee kh\u00fbnd p\u00e2r n\u00e2!\n  Kh\u00fbnd chan\u00e2 de n\u00e2!\n  R\u00e2j\u00e2 kh\u00e2t\u00ee dande n\u00e2!\n  R\u00e2j\u00e2 r\u00e2n\u00ee russe n\u00e2!\n  Sapn\u00e2 r\u00e2n\u00ee dase n\u00e2!\n  L\u00e2th\u00ee sapn\u00e2 m\u00e2re n\u00e2!\n  \u00c2g l\u00e2th\u00ee jal\u00e2ve n\u00e2!\n  Samundar \u00e2g bujh\u00e2ve n\u00e2!\n  H\u00e2th\u00ee samundar sukhe n\u00e2!\n  N\u00e2re h\u00e2th\u00ee bandhe n\u00e2!\n  M\u00fbs\u00e2 n\u00e2re k\u00e2te n\u00e2!\n  L\u00fbng\u00e2 phir chor\u00fbn? n\u00e2!'\n\n  He then went to the cat (saying),\n  'Cat, cat, eat mouse.\n  Woodman won't cut tree!\n  Tree won't give peas!\n  King won't beat woodman!\n  Queen won't storm at king!\n  Snake won't bite queen!\n  Stick won't beat snake!\n  Fire won't burn stick!\n  Sea won't quench fire!\n  Elephant won't drink up sea!\n  Thong won't bind elephant!\n  Mouse won't nip thong!\n  I'll take (the pea) yet, I won't let it go!'_\n\nIt will be seen that in the text the order has been transposed for\nobvious literary convenience.\n\n_Verses_.--In the original these are--\n\n  _Usne kah\u00e2, 'Lap, lap, kh\u00e2\u00fbng\u00ee!'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 m\u00fbs\u00e2 ke p\u00e2s, 'M\u00fbs\u00e2, re m\u00fbs\u00e2, ab kh\u00e2 j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham bh\u00ee\n    n\u00e2re katenge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 n\u00e2re ke p\u00e2s, 'N\u00e2re, re n\u00e2re, ab k\u00e2te j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham bh\u00ee\n    h\u00e2th\u00ee bandhenge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 h\u00e2th\u00ee ke p\u00e2s, 'H\u00e2th\u00ee, re h\u00e2th\u00ee, ab bandhe j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham\n    bh\u00ee samundar s\u00fbkhenge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 samundar ke p\u00e2s, 'Samundar, re samundar, ab sukhe\n    j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham bh\u00ee \u00e2g bujh\u00e2enge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 \u00e2g ke p\u00e2s, '\u00c2g, r\u00ee \u00e2g, ab bujh\u00e2\u00ee j\u00e2ogi?'  'Ham bh\u00ee l\u00e2th\u00ee\n    jal\u00e2venge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 l\u00e2th\u00ee ke p\u00e2s, 'L\u00e2th\u00ee, re l\u00e2th\u00ee, ab jal j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham bh\u00ee\n    s\u00e2mp m\u00e2renge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 samp ke p\u00e2s, 'S\u00e2mp, re s\u00e2mp, ab m\u00e2re j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham bh\u00ee\n    r\u00e2n\u00ee dasenge?'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 r\u00e2n\u00ee ke p\u00e2s, 'R\u00e2n\u00ee, r\u00ee r\u00e2n\u00ee, ab das\u00ee j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham bh\u00ee\n    r\u00e2j\u00e2 rusenge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 r\u00e2j\u00e2 ke p\u00e2s, 'R\u00e2j\u00e2, re raja, ab r\u00e2n\u00ee rus j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham\n    bh\u00ee kh\u00e2t\u00ee d\u00e2ndenge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 kh\u00e2t\u00ee ke p\u00e2s, 'Kh\u00e2t\u00ee, re kh\u00e2t\u00ee, ab dande j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham\n    bh\u00ee khund k\u00e2tenge.'\n  Phir g\u00ee\u00e2 khund ke p\u00e2s, 'Khund, re khund, ab k\u00e2te j\u00e2oge?'  'Ham\n    bh\u00ee chan\u00e2 denge.'\n  Phir woh chan\u00e2 lekar chal\u00e2 g\u00ee\u00e2?_\n\n  The cat said, 'I will eat him up at once!'\n  (So) he went to the mouse, 'Mouse, mouse, will you be eaten?'  'I\n    will gnaw the thong.'\n  He went to the thong, 'Thong, thong, will you be gnawed?'  'I\n    will bind the elephant.'\n  He went to the elephant, 'Elephant, elephant, will you be bound?'\n    'I will drink up the ocean.'\n  He went to the ocean, 'Ocean, ocean, will you be drunk up?'  'I\n    will quench the fire.'\n  He went to the fire, 'Fire, fire, will you be quenched?'  'I will\n    burn the stick.'\n  He went to the stick, 'Stick, stick, will you be burnt?'  'I will\n    beat the snake.'\n  He went to the snake, 'Snake, snake, will you be beaten?'  'I will\n    bite the queen.'\n  He went to the queen, 'Queen, queen, will you be bitten?'  'I will\n    storm at the king.'\n  He went to the king, 'King, king, will you be stormed at by the\n    queen?'  'I will beat the woodman.'\n  He went to the woodman, 'Woodman, woodman, will you be\n    beaten?' 'I will cut down the trunk.'\n  He went to the trunk, 'Trunk, trunk, will you be cut down?'  'I\n    will give you the pea.'\n  So he got the pea and went away.\n\n\n\nTHE FARMER AND THE MONEY-LENDER\n\n_Money-lender_--_L\u00eed\u00fb_, a disreputable tradesman, a sharp\npractitioner.\n\n_R\u00e2m_--R\u00e2ma Chandra, now 'God' _par excellence_.\n\n_Conch_--_Sankh_, the shell used in Hindu worship for\nblowing upon.\n\n\n\nTHE LORD OF DEATH\n\n_Lord of Death_.--_Maliku'l-maut_ is the Muhammadan form of\nthe name, _K\u00e2l_ is the Hindu form.  The belief is that every\nliving being has attached to him a 'Lord of Death.'  He is represented\nin the 'passion plays' so common at the Dasahra and other festivals by\na hunchbacked dwarf, quite black, with scarlet lips, fastened to a\n'keeper' by a black chain and twirling about a black wand.  The idea\nis that until this chain is loosened or broken the life which he is to\nkill is safe.  The notion is probably of Hindu origin.  For a note on\nthe subject see _Indian Antiquary_, vol. x. pp. 289, 290.\n\n\n\nTHE WRESTLERS\n\n_The Wrestlers_.--The story seems to be common all over India. In\nthe _Indian Antiquary_, vol. x. p. 230, it is suggested that it\nrepresents some aboriginal account of the creation.\n\n_Ten thousand pounds weight_.--In the original 160 _mans_,\nwhich weigh over 13,000 lbs._\n\n\n\nGWASHBRARI\n\n_Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri, etc_.--The Westarw\u00e2n range is the longest spur into\nthe valley of Kashm\u00eer.  The remarkably clear tilt of the strata\nprobably suggested this fanciful and poetical legend.  All the\nmountains mentioned in the tale are prominent peaks in Kashm\u00eer, and\nbelong to what Cunningham (_Lad\u00e2k_, 1854, ch. iii.) calls the P\u00eer\nPanj\u00e2l and Mid-Him\u00e2layan Range.  Nang\u00e2 Parbat, 26,829 ft., is to the\nN.W.; Har\u00e2 Mukh, 16,905 ft., to the N.; Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri or Kolaho\u00ee, 17,839\nft., to the N.E.  Westarw\u00e2n is a long ridge running N.W. to S.E.,\nbetween Khr\u00fb and Sot\u00fbr, right into the Kashm\u00eer valley.  Khru is not\nfar from Srinagar, to the S.E.\n\n_Lay at Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri's feet, his head upon her heart_.--As a matter\nof fact, Westarw\u00e2n does not lay his head anywhere near Gw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri's\nfeet, though he would appear to do so from Khr\u00fb, at which place the\nlegend probably arose.  An excellent account of the country between\nKhr\u00fb and Sesh N\u00e2g, traversing most of that lying between Westarw\u00e2n and\nGw\u00e2shbr\u00e2ri, by the late Colonel Cuppage, is to be found at pp. 206-221\nof Ince's _Kashm\u00eer Handbook_, 3rd ed., 1876.\n\n\n\nTHE BARBER'S CLEVER WIFE\n\n_Hornets' nest_.--Properly speaking, bees.  This species makes a\nso-called nest, _i.e._ a honey-comb hanging from the branch of a\ntree, usually a _p\u00eepal_, over which the insects crawl and jostle\neach other in myriads in the open air.  When roused, and any accident\nmay do this, they become dangerous enemies, and will attack and sting\nto death any animal near.  They form a real danger in the Central\nIndian jungles, and authentic cases in which they have killed horses\nand men, even Europeans, are numerous.\n\n_Fairy_.--_Par\u00ee_, fairy, peri:  the story indicates a very\ncommon notion.\n\n\n\nTHE JACKAL AND THE CROCODILE\n\n_Verses_.--In the original they are--\n\n  _G\u00e2dar, ghar ky\u00e2 l\u00e2y\u00e2?\n  Ky\u00e2 ch\u00eez kam\u00e2y\u00e2?\n  Ki mer\u00e2 kh\u00e2tir p\u00e2y\u00e2._\n\n  Jackal, what hast thou brought home?\n  What thing hast thou earned?\n  That I may obtain my wants.\n\nThe story has a parallel in most Indian collections, and two in\n_Uncle Remus_, in the stories of 'The Rabbit and the Wolf' and of\n'The Terrapin and the Rabbit.'\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU WAS BORN\n\n_Raja Ras\u00e2lu_--The chief legendary hero of the Panj\u00e2b, and\nprobably a Scythian or non-Aryan king of great mark who fought both\nthe Aryans to the east and the invading tribes (?  Arabs) to the\nwest.  Popularly he is the son of the great Scythian hero S\u00e2liv\u00e2hana,\nwho established the S\u00e2ka or Scythian era in 78 A.D.  Really he,\nhowever, probably lived much later, and his date should be looked for\nat any period between A.D. 300 and A.D. 900.  He most probably\nrepresented the typical Indian kings known to the Arab historians as\nflourishing between 697 and 870 A.D. by the synonymous names Zentil,\nZenbil, Zenbyl, Zambil, Zantil, Ranbal, Ratbyl, Reteil, Retpeil,\nRantal, Ratpil, Ratteil, Ratbal, Ratbil, Ratsal, Rusal, Rasal, Rasil.\nThese are all meant for the same word, having arisen from the\nuncertainty of the Arabic character and the ignorance of\ntranscribers.  The particular king meant is most likely the opponent\nof Hajjaj and Muhammad Qasim between 697 and 713 A.D.  The whole\nsubject is involved in the greatest obscurity, and in the Panj\u00e2b his\nstory is almost hopelessly involved in pure folklore.  It has often\nbeen discussed in learned journals.  See _Indian Antiquary_, vol.\nxi. pp. 299 ff. 346-349, vol. xii. p. 303 ff., vol. xiii. p. 155 ff.;\n_Journal Asiatic Society of Bengal_ for 1854, pp. 123-163,\n_etc_.; Elliot's _History of India_, vol. i. pp. 167, 168,\nvol. ii. pp. 178, 403-427.\n\n_Lonan_--For a story of Lon\u00e2n, see _Indian Antiquary_, vol.\nix. p. 290.\n\n_Thrown into a deep well_--Still shown on the road between\nSi\u00e2lkot and Kallow\u00e2l.\n\n_Gur\u00fb Gorakhn\u00e2th_--The ordinary _deux ex machin\u00e2_ of modern\nfolk-tales.  He is now supposed to be the reliever of all troubles,\nand possessed of most miraculous powers, especially over snakes.  In\nlife he seems to have been the Br\u00e2hmanical opponent of the medi\u00e6val\nreformers of the fifteenth century A.D.  By any computation P\u00fbran\nBhagat must have lived centuries before him.\n\n_P\u00fbran Bhagat_.--Is in story R\u00e2j\u00e2 Ras\u00e2l\u00fb's elder brother.  There\nare numerous poems written about his story, which is essentially that\nof Potiphar's wife.  The parallel between the tales of Raja Ras\u00e2lu and\nP\u00fbran Bhagat and those of the Southern Aryan conqueror Vikram\u00e2ditya\nand his (in legend) elder brother Bhatrihari, the saint and philosopher,\nis worthy of remark.\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU WENT OUT INTO THE WORLD\n\n_Bhaunr' Ir\u00e2qi_.--The name of Ras\u00e2lu's horse; but the name\nprobably should be Bhaunri Rakhi, kept in the underground cellar.\n'Ir\u00e2qi means Arabian.\n\n_Verses_.--In the original these are--\n\n  _Main \u00e2i\u00e2 th\u00e2 sal\u00e2m n\u00fbn, t\u00fbn baith\u00e2 p\u00eeth maror!\n  Main nah\u00een ter\u00e2 r\u00e2j wand\u00e2nund\u00e2; main n\u00fbn nah\u00een r\u00e2j te lor._\n\n  I came to salute thee, and thou hast turned thy back on me!\n  I have no wish to share thy kingdom!  I have no desire for empire.\n\n  _Mahl\u00e2n de vich baith\u00eee, t\u00fbn ro ro na sun\u00e2! Je t\u00fbn mer\u00ee m\u00e2t\u00e2\n  hain, ko\u00ee mat batl\u00e2! Matte dend\u00ee hai m\u00e2n tain n\u00fbn, putar:  gin\n  gin jhol\u00ee ghat! Ch\u00e2re Kh\u00fbnt\u00e2n t\u00fbn r\u00e2j kare, par chang\u00e2 rakh\u00een\n  sat!_\n\n  O sitting in the palace, let me not hear thee weeping!\n  If thou be my mother give me some advice!\n  Thy mother doth advise thee, son:  stow it carefully away in thy\n    wallet!\n  Thou wilt reign in the Four Quarters, but keep thyself good and\n    pure.\n\n_Verses_.--In the original these are--\n\n  _Thor\u00e2 thor\u00e2, bet\u00e2, t\u00fbn dis\u00een, aur bahot\u00ee dis\u00ee dh\u00fbr:\n  Putr jin\u00e2n de tur chale, aur m\u00e2w\u00e2n chikn\u00e2 ch\u00fbr._\n\n  It is little I see of thee, my son, but I see much dust.\n  The mother, whose son goes away on a journey, becomes as a powder\n    (reduced to great misery).\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU'S FRIENDS FORSOOK HIM\n\n_Verses_.--Originals are--\n\n  _Agge sowen lef nih\u00e2l\u00ee\u00e2n, ajj sut\u00e2 suthr\u00e2 gh\u00e2s!\n  Sukh wasse yeh des, j\u00e2han \u00e2eajj d\u00ee r\u00e2t!_\n\n  Before thou didst sleep on quilts, to-day thou has slept on clean\n    grass!\n  Mayest thou live happy in this land whither thou hast come this\n    night!\n\n_Snake_--Most probably represents a man of the 'Serpent Race' a\nN\u00e2ga, Taka, or Takshak.\n\n_Unspeakable horror_--The undefined word _\u00e2fat_, horror,\nterror, was used throughout.\n\n_Verses_--Originals are--\n\n  _Sad\u00e2 na ph\u00fblan tor\u00ee\u00e2n, nafr\u00e2:  sad\u00e2 na S\u00e2wan hoe:\n  Sad\u00e2 na joban thir rahe:  sad\u00e2 na jive koe:\n  Sad\u00e2 na r\u00e2ji\u00e2n h\u00e2kim\u00ee:  s\u00e2da na r\u00e2ji\u00e2n des:\n  Sad\u00e2 na hove ghar apn\u00e2, nafr\u00e2, bhath pi\u00e2 pardes_.\n\n  _Tcr\u00ees_ (a mustard plant) do not always flower, my servant:  it\n    is not always the rainy season (time of joy).\n  Youth does not always last:  no one lives for ever:\n  Kings are not always rulers:  kings have not always lands:\n  They have not always homes, my servant:  they fall into great\n    troubles in strange lands.\n\nThese verses of rustic philosophy are universal favourites, and have\nbeen thus rendered in the _Calcutta Review_, No. clvi. pp. 281,\n282--\n\n  Youth will not always stay with us:\n   We shall not always live:\n  Rain doth not always fall for us:\n   Nor flowers blossoms give.\n\n  Great kings not always rulers are:\n   They have not always lands:\n  Nor have they always homes, but know\n   Sharp grief at strangers' hands.\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU KILLED THE GIANTS\n\n_Giants_--_R\u00e2kshasa_, for which see previous notes.\n\n_N\u00eel\u00e2 city_--Most probably B\u00e2gh N\u00eel\u00e2b on the Indus to the south\nof Atak.\n\n_Verses_--In the original these are--\n\n  _Na ro, mata bhol\u00eee:  na asw\u00e2n dhalk\u00e2e: Tere bete ki '\u00eevaz main\n  sir des\u00e2n ch\u00e2e. N\u00eele-ghorew\u00e2l\u00eed R\u00e2j\u00e2, munh dh\u00e2r\u00ee, sir pag, Woh\n  jo dekhte \u00e2unde, jin kh\u00e2i\u00e2 s\u00e2r\u00e2 jag_.\n\n  Weep not, foolish mother, drop no tears:\n  I will give my head for thy son.\n  Gray-horsed Raja:  bearded face and turban on head,\n  He whom you see coming is he who has destroyed my life!\n\n_Verses_--In original--\n\n  _Nasso, bhajo, bh\u00e2\u00eeo!  Dekho ko\u00ee gali! Tehr\u00ee agg dhonka\u00ee, so\n  sir te \u00e2n bal\u00ee! S\u00fbjhanh\u00e2r\u00ee s\u00fbjh gae; hun laihnd\u00ee charhd\u00ee j\u00e2e!\n  Jithe s\u00e2n\u00fbn s\u00fbkh mile, so jhatpat kare up\u00e2e!\n\n  Fly, fly, brethren! look out for some road!\n  Such a fire is burning that it will come and burn our heads!\n  Our fate has come, we shall now be destroyed!\n  Make some plan at once for our relief._\n\n_Gandgari Mountains_--Gandgarh Hills, to the north of Atak; for a\ndetailed account of this legend see _Journal Asiatic Society of\nBengal_ for 1854, p. 150 ff.\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU BECAME A JOGI\n\n_Hod\u00eenagar\u00ee_--A veritable will-o'-the-wisp in the ancient Panj\u00e2b\ngeography:  Hod\u00eenagar\u00ee, Udenagar, Udaynagar, is the name of\ninnumerable ruins all over the northern Panj\u00e2b, from Si\u00e2lkot to\nJal\u00e2l\u00e2b\u00e2d in Afgh\u00e2nist\u00e2n beyond the Khaibar Pass.  Here it is more\nthan probably some place in the Raw\u00e2l Pindi or Haz\u00e2r\u00e2 Districts along\nthe Indus.\n\n_R\u00e2n\u00ee Sundr\u00e2n_--The daughter of Hari Chand.\n\n_Alakh_--'In the Imperishable Name,' the cry of religious\nmendicants when begging.\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _J\u00e2e b\u00fbhe te kilki\u00e2:  l\u00eea n\u00e2m Khud\u00e2:\n  D\u00fbron chalke, R\u00e2n\u00ee Sundr\u00e2n, ter\u00e2 n\u00e2:\n  Je, R\u00e2n\u00ee, t\u00fb sakh\u00ee hain, khar\u00ee faq\u00eer\u00e2n p\u00e2:_\n\n  Coming to the threshold I called out:  I took the name of God:\n  Coming from afar, R\u00e2n\u00ee Sundr\u00e2n, on account of thy name.\n  If thou art generous, R\u00e2n\u00ee, the beggar will obtain alms.\n\nThe _Musalm\u00e2n_ word _Khud\u00e2_, God, here is noticeable, as\nRas\u00e2l\u00fb was personating a _Hindu j\u00f4gi_.\n\n_Verses_.\n\n  _Kab k\u00ee p\u00e2\u00ee mundran?  Kab k\u00e2 h\u00fb\u00e2 faq\u00eer? Kis ghat\u00e2 m\u00e2nion?  Kis\n  k\u00e2 l\u00e2g\u00e2 t\u00eer! Kete m\u00e2en mangi\u00e2?  Mere ghar k\u00ee mang\u00ee bh\u00eekh? Kal\n  k\u00ee p\u00e2\u00ee mundr\u00e2n!  Kal k\u00e2 h\u00fb\u00e2 faq\u00eer! Na ghat, m\u00e2\u00ee\u00e2n, m\u00e2ni\u00e2n:  kal\n  k\u00e2 lag\u00e2 t\u00eer. Kuchh nah\u00een munh mang\u00ee:  Kewal tere ghar ke\n  bh\u00eekh._\n\n  When didst thou get thy earring?  When wast thou made a _faq\u00eer?_\n  What is thy pretence?  Whose arrow of love hath struck thee?\n  From how many women hast thou begged?  What alms dost thou beg from me?\n  Yesterday I got my earring:  yesterday I became a _faq\u00eer_.\n  I make no pretence, mother:  yesterday the arrow struck me.\n  I begged nothing:  only from thy house do I beg.\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _Tarqas jari\u00e2 t\u00eer mot\u00ee\u00e2n; l\u00e2l\u00e2n jar\u00ee kum\u00e2n; Pinde bhasham\n  lag\u00e2i\u00e2:  yeh main\u00e2n aur rang; Jis bhikhi\u00e2 k\u00e2 l\u00e2bh\u00ee hain t\u00fb woh\u00ee\n  bhikhi\u00e2 mang. Tarqas jari\u00e2 mer\u00e2 mot\u00ee\u00e2n:  l\u00e2l\u00e2n jar\u00ee kum\u00e2n. L\u00e2l\n  na j\u00e2n\u00e2 bechke, mot\u00ee be-watt\u00ee. Mot\u00ee apne phir lai; s\u00e2n\u00fbn pakk\u00e2\n  t\u00e2m diw\u00e2._\n\n  Thy quiver is full of pearly arrows:  thy bow is set with rubies:\n  Thy body is covered with ashes:  thy eyes and thy colour thus:\n  Ask for the alms thou dost desire.\n  My quiver is set with pearls:  my bow is set with rubies.\n  I know not how to sell pearls and rubies without loss.\n  Take back thy pearls:  give me some cooked food.\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _Kah\u00e2n tumh\u00e2r\u00ee nagari? kah\u00e2n tumh\u00e2r\u00e2 th\u00e2on? Kis r\u00e2j\u00e2 k\u00e2 betr\u00e2\n  j\u00f4g\u00ee? ky\u00e2 tumh\u00e2r\u00e2 n\u00e2on? Si\u00e2lkot ham\u00e2r\u00ee nagar\u00ee; woh\u00ee ham\u00e2r\u00e2\n  th\u00e2on. R\u00e2j\u00e2 S\u00e2liv\u00e2han k\u00e2 main betr\u00e2:  Lon\u00e2 par\u00ee mer\u00e2 m\u00e2on.\n  Pinde bhasam lag\u00e2e, dekhan ter\u00ee j\u00e2on. Tain\u00fbn dekhke chali\u00e2:  R\u00e2j\u00e2\n  Ras\u00e2lu mer\u00e2 n\u00e2on._\n\n  Where is thy city?  Where is thy home?\n  What king's son art thou, _j\u00f4gi?_ What is thy name?\n  Sialkot is my city:  that is my home.\n  I am R\u00e2j\u00e2 S\u00e2liv\u00e2han's son:  the fairy Lon\u00e2 is my mother.\n  Ashes are on my body:  (my desire was) to see thy abode.\n  Having seen thee I go away:  R\u00e2j\u00e2 Ras\u00e2l\u00fb is my name.\n\n_Sati_.--The rite by which widows burn themselves with their\nhusbands.\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU JOURNEYED TO THE CITY OF KING SARKAP\n\n_Raja Sarkap_.--_Lit_.  King Beheader is a universal hero of\nfable, who has left many places behind him connected with his memory,\nbut who he was has not yet been ascertained.\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _B\u00e2re andar pi\u00e2 karangl\u00e2, na is s\u00e2s, na p\u00e2s. Je Maull\u00e2 is n\u00fbn\n  zind\u00e2 kare, do b\u00e2t\u00e2n kare ham\u00e2re s\u00e2th. Laihndion charh\u00ee badal\u00ee,\n  h\u00e2th\u00e2n p\u00e2i\u00e2 zor: Kehe 'amal kam\u00e2io, je jhaldi nah\u00een ghor?_\n\n  The corpse has fallen under the hedge, no breath in him, nor any one\n    near.\n  If God grant him life he may talk a little with me.\n  The clouds rose in the west and the storm was very fierce;\n  What hast thou done that the grave doth not hold thee?\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  As\u00een bh\u00ee kad\u00een duniy\u00e2n te inh\u00e2n the;\n  R\u00e2j\u00e2 nal degr\u00ee\u00e2n pag\u00e2n banhde,\n    Turde pabh\u00e2n bh\u00e2r.\n  \u00c2unde tara, nach\u00e2unde tara,\n    H\u00e2nke saw\u00e2r.\n  Zara na mitth\u00ee jhald\u00ee R\u00e2j\u00e2\n    Hun sau man\u00e2n d\u00e2 bh\u00e2r.\n\n  I, too, was once on the earth thus;\n  Fastening my turban like a king,\n    Walking erect.\n  Coming proudly, taunting proudly,\n    I drove off the horsemen.\n  The grave does not hold me at all, Raja:\n    Now I am a great sinner.\n\n_Chaupur_, p. 256.--_Chaupur_ is a game played by two\nplayers with 8 men each on a board in the shape of a cross, 4 men to\neach cross covered with squares.  The moves of the men are decided by\nthe throws of a long form of dice.  The object of the game is to see\nwhich of the players can move all his men into the black centre square\nof the cross first.  A detailed description of the game is given in\n_The Legends of the Panj\u00e2b_, vol. i. pp. 243, 245.\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU SWUNG THE SEVENTY FAIR MAIDENS, DAUGHTERS OF THE KING\n\n\n_The daughters of Raja Sarkap_.--The scene of this and the\nfollowing legend is probably meant to be Kot Bithaur on the Indus\nnear Atak.\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _N\u00eele-ghorew\u00e2li\u00e2 R\u00e2j\u00e2, niven neze \u00e2h!\n  Agge R\u00e2j\u00e2 Sarkap hai, sir lais\u00ee ul\u00e2h!\n  Bh\u00e2la ch\u00e2hen jo apn\u00e2, t\u00e2n pichhe h\u00ee mur j\u00e2h!\n  D\u00fbron b\u00eer\u00e2 chuki\u00e2 ithe pahut\u00e2 \u00e2h:\n  Sarkap d\u00e2 sir katke tote kass\u00e2n ch\u00e2r.\n  Tain\u00fbn ban\u00e2s\u00e2n wohtr\u00ee, main bans\u00e2n mihr\u00e2j!_\n\n  Grey-horsed R\u00e2j\u00e2, come with lowered lance!\n  Before thee is R\u00e2j\u00e2 Sarkap, he will take thy head!\n  If thou seek thy own good, then turn thee back!\n  I have come from afar under a vow of victory:\n  I will cut off Sarkap's head and cut it into four pieces.\n  I will make thee my little bride, and will become thy bridegroom!\n\n_Hundredweight_--_Man_ in the original, or a little over 80\nlbs.\n\n_Verses_--In original--\n\n  _Ik jo aia Rajp\u00fbt katd\u00e2 m\u00e2rom\u00e2r, Paske l\u00e2rh\u00e2n kapi\u00e2n sitt\u00ee\u00e2\n  s\u00eene bh\u00e2r. Dhar\u00een dharin bheren bhan\u00ee\u00e2n aur bhane ghari\u00e2l! Ta\u00een\n  n\u00fbn, R\u00e2j\u00e2, mars\u00ee ate s\u00e2n\u00fbn khars\u00ee h\u00e2l._\n\n  A prince has come and is making havoc;\n  He cut the long strings and threw us out headlong.\n  The drums placed are broken and broken are the gongs.\n  He will kill thee, Raja, and take me with him!\n\n_Verses_--In original--\n\n  _Chhot\u00ee nagar\u00ee d\u00e2 wask\u00een, R\u00e2n\u00ee wad\u00ee kar\u00ee puk\u00e2r.\n  J\u00e2n main nikl\u00e2n b\u00e2har, t\u00e2n mer\u00ee tan nach\u00e2ve dh\u00e2l.\n  Fajre rot\u00ee t\u00e2n kh\u00e2s\u00e2n, sir lais\u00e2n ut\u00e2r._\n\n  Princess, thou hast brought a great complaint about a dweller in a\n    small city.\n  When I come out his shield will dance for fear of my valour.\n  In the morning I will eat my bread and cut off their heads.\n\n\n\nHOW RAJA RAS\u00c2LU PLAYED _CHAUPUR_ WITH RAJA SARKAP\n\n_Dhol R\u00e2j\u00e2_--It is not known why the rat was so called.  The hero\nof a well-known popular love-tale bears the same name.  Dhol or Dhaul\n(from Sanskrit _dhavala_, white) is in popular story the\n_cow_ that supports the earth on its horns.\n\n_Verses_--In original--\n\n  _Sakh\u00ee samundar jami\u00e2n, R\u00e2j\u00e2 l\u00eeo rud gar th\u00e2e: \u00c2o to charho\n  mer\u00ee p\u00eeth te, kot tudh khar\u00e2n tarp\u00e2e. Urde pankh\u00ee main na des\u00e2n,\n  jo dauran lakh karor. Je tudh, R\u00e2j\u00e2, p\u00e2r\u00e2 khelsi\u00e2, jeb h\u00e2th to\n  p\u00e2e._\n\n  O my beloved, I was born in the ocean, and the R\u00e2j\u00e2\n    bought me with much gold.\n  Come and jump on my back and I will take thee off\n    with thousands of bounds.\n  Wings of birds shall not catch me, though they go\n    thousands of miles.\n  If thou wouldst gamble, Raja, keep thy hand on thy pocket.\n\n_Verses_--In original--\n\n  _Na ro, R\u00e2ji\u00e2 bholi\u00e2; n\u00e2 main chars\u00e2n gh\u00e2h,\n  Na main turs\u00e2n r\u00e2h.\n  Dahn\u00e2 dast uth\u00e2eke jeb de vich p\u00e2h!_\n\n  Weep not, foolish R\u00e2j\u00e2, I shall not eat their grass,\n  Nor shall I go away.\n  Take thy right hand and put it in thy pocket!\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _Dhal, we p\u00e2s\u00e2 dhalwin ithe basante lok! Sar\u00e2n dhar\u00e2n han\n  b\u00e2zi\u00e2n, jehr\u00ee Sarkap kare so ho! Dhal, we p\u00e2s\u00e2 dhalwen, ithe\n  basanl\u00e2 lok! Sar\u00e2n dhar\u00e2n te b\u00e2zian!  Jehr\u00ee Allah kare so ho!_\n\n  O moulded pieces, favour me:  a man is here!\n  Heads and bodies are at stake! as Sarkap does so let it be.\n  O moulded pieces, favour me:  a man is here!\n  Heads and bodies are at stake! as God does so let it be!\n\n_Verses_.--In original--\n\n  _Hor r\u00e2je murgh\u00e2b\u00ee\u00e2n, tu r\u00e2j\u00e2 sh\u00e2hb\u00e2z!\n  Band\u00ee b\u00e2n\u00e2n \u00e2e band khal\u00e2s kar! umar ter\u00ee dr\u00e2z._\n\n  Other kings are wild-fowl, thou art a royal hawk!\n  Unbind the chains of the chain-bound and live for ever!\n\n_M\u00fbrt\u00ee Hills_.--Near R\u00e2wal Pind\u00ee to the south-west.\n\n_Kokil\u00e2n_.--Means 'a darling':  she was unfaithful and most\ndreadfully punished by being made to eat her lover's heart.\n\n\n\nTHE KING WHO WAS FRIED\n\n_The king who was fried_.--The story is told of the hill temple\n(_marh\u00ee_) on the top of Pind\u00ee Point at the Murree (_Marh\u00ee_)\nHill Sanitarium.  Full details of the surroundings are given in the\n_Calcutta Review_, No. cl. p. 270 ff.\n\n_King Karan,_.--This is for Karna, the half-brother of P\u00e2ndu, and\na great hero in the _Mah\u00e2bh\u00e2rata_ legends.  Usually he appears in\nthe very different character of a typical tyrant, like Herod among\nChristians, and for the same reason, _viz_. the slaughter of\ninnocents.\n\n_Hundredweight_.--A man and a quarter in the original, or about\n100 lbs.\n\n_M\u00e2nsarobar Lake_.--The M\u00e2nasasarovara Lake (=Tsho-M\u00e2phan) in the\nKail\u00e2sa Range of the Him\u00e2layas, for ages a centre of Indian fable.\nFor descriptions see Cunningham's _Lad\u00e2k_, pp. 128-136.\n\n_Swan_.--_Hansa_ in the original:  a fabulous bird that lives\non pearls only.  Swan translates it better than any other word.\n\n_King Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet_.--The great Vikram\u00e2ditya of Ujjayin\u00ee,\npopularly the founder of the present Sarhvat era in B.C. 57.  Bikr\u00fb is\na legitimately-formed diminutive of the name.  Vikr\u00e2maditya figures\nconstantly in folklore as Bikram, Vikram, and Vichram, and also by a\nfalse analogy as Bik R\u00e2m and Vich R\u00e2m.  He also goes by the name of\nB\u00eer Bikram\u00e2j\u00eet or V\u00eer Vikram, i.e.  Vikram\u00e2ditya, the warrior.  In\nsome tales, probably by the error of the translator, he then becomes\ntwo brothers, Vir and Vikram.  See Postans' _Cutch_, p. 18 ff.\n\n\n\nPRINCE HALF-A-SON\n\n_Half-a-son_--_Adhi\u00e2_ in the original form; _\u00e2dh\u00e2_, a\nhalf.  The natives, however, give the tale the title of '_Sat\nBachi\u00e2n di\u00e2n M\u00e2w\u00e2n,_' _i.e_. the Mothers of Seven Sons.\n\n\n\nTHE MOTHER OF SEVEN SONS\n\n_Broken-down old bed_.--This, with scratching the ground with the\nfore-finger, is a recognised form of expressing grief in the Panj\u00e2b.\nThe object is to attract _faq\u00eers_ to help the sufferer.\n\n\n\nTHE RUBY PRINCE\n\n_Prince Ruby_.--_La'lj\u00ee_, Mr. Ruby, a common name:  it can\nalso mean 'beloved son' or 'cherished son.'\n\n_Snake-stone_.--_Mani_ the fabulous jewel in the\ncobra's hood, according to folklore all over India.  See _Panj\u00e2b\nNotes and Queries_, vol. i. for 1883-84.","title":"Tales of the Punjab: Folklore of India","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":79601}