{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_7128/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_7128","id":"gutenberg_7128","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7128","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- India","Folklore","Folklore -- India","India"],"text":"E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Charles Franks, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team and revised by Sankar Viswanathan, Fritz\nOhrenschall, Sania Ali Mirza, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n(http://www.pgdp.net) using page images generously made available by\nInternet Archive (http://archive.org)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the lovely original illustrations.\n      See 7128-h.htm or 7128-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/7128/pg7128-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/7128/7128-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      http://archive.org/details/indiantales00jacorich\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n      A letter following a carat character is superscripted.\n      For example, in \"2^e\" the \"e\" is superscripted.\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Indian Fairy Tales]\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n[Illustration: PRINCESS LABAM]\n\n\nINDIAN FAIRY TALES\n\nSelected and Edited by\n\nJOSEPH JACOBS\n\nEditor of \"Folk Lore\"\n\nIllustrated by John D. Batten\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon\nDavid Nutt, 270, 271 Strand\n1892\n\n\n\n\n_Only One Hundred and Sixty Copies of this\nEdition on Japanese Vellum Paper have been printed,\nof which One Hundred and Fifty are for Sale.\n\nThis is No. 147_\n\n\n_The Illustrations in this Book were coloured by hand by\nMiss Gloria Cardew._\n\n\n\n\n   _TO\n   MY DEAR LITTLE PHIL_\n\n\n\n\nPreface\n\n\nFrom the extreme West of the Indo-European world, we go this year to\nthe extreme East. From the soft rain and green turf of Gaeldom, we\nseek the garish sun and arid soil of the Hindoo. In the Land of Ire,\nthe belief in fairies, gnomes, ogres and monsters is all but dead; in\nthe Land of Ind it still flourishes in all the vigour of animism.\n\nSoils and national characters differ; but fairy tales are the same in\nplot and incidents, if not in treatment. The majority of the tales in\nthis volume have been known in the West in some form or other, and the\nproblem arises how to account for their simultaneous existence in\nfarthest West and East. Some--as Benfey in Germany, M. Cosquin in\nFrance, and Mr. Clouston in England--have declared that India is the\nHome of the Fairy Tale, and that all European fairy tales have been\nbrought from thence by Crusaders, by Mongol missionaries, by Gipsies,\nby Jews, by traders, by travellers. The question is still before the\ncourts, and one can only deal with it as an advocate. So far as my\ninstructions go, I should be prepared, within certain limits, to hold\na brief for India. So far as the children of Europe have their fairy\nstories in common, these--and they form more than a third of the\nwhole--are derived from India. In particular, the majority of the\nDrolls or comic tales and jingles can be traced, without much\ndifficulty, back to the Indian peninsula.\n\nCertainly there is abundant evidence of the early transmission by\nliterary means of a considerable number of drolls and folk-tales from\nIndia about the time of the Crusaders. The collections known in Europe\nby the titles of _The Fables of Bidpai_, _The Seven Wise Masters_,\n_Gesta Romanorum_, and _Barlaam and Josaphat_, were extremely popular\nduring the Middle Ages, and their contents passed on the one hand into\nthe _Exempla_ of the monkish preachers, and on the other into the\n_Novelle_ of Italy, thence, after many days, to contribute their quota\nto the Elizabethan Drama. Perhaps nearly one-tenth of the main\nincidents of European folk-tales can be traced to this source.\n\nThere are even indications of an earlier literary contact between\nEurope and India, in the case of one branch of the folk-tale, the\nFable or Beast Droll. In a somewhat elaborate discussion[1] I have\ncome to the conclusion that a goodly number of the fables that pass\nunder the name of the Samian slave, \u00c6sop, were derived from India,\nprobably from the same source whence the same tales were utilised in\nthe Jatakas, or Birth-stories of Buddha. These Jatakas contain a large\nquantity of genuine early Indian folk-tales, and form the earliest\ncollection of folk-tales in the world, a sort of Indian Grimm,\ncollected more than two thousand years before the good German brothers\nwent on their quest among the folk with such delightful results. For\nthis reason I have included a considerable number of them in this\nvolume; and shall be surprised if tales that have roused the laughter\nand wonder of pious Buddhists for the last two thousand years, cannot\nproduce the same effect on English children. The Jatakas have been\nfortunate in their English translators, who render with vigour and\npoint; and I rejoice in being able to publish the translation of two\nnew Jatakas, kindly done into English for this volume by Mr. W. H. D.\nRouse, of Christ's College, Cambridge. In one of these I think I have\ntraced the source of the Tar Baby incident in \"Uncle Remus.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: \"History of the \u00c6sopic Fable,\" the introductory volume to\nmy edition of Caxton's _Fables of Esope_ (London, Nutt, 1889).]\n\nThough Indian fairy tales are the earliest in existence, yet they are\nalso from another point of view the youngest. For it is only about\ntwenty-five years ago that Miss Frere began the modern collection of\nIndian folk-tales with her charming \"Old Deccan Days\" (London, John\nMurray, 1868; fourth edition, 1889). Her example has been followed by\nMiss Stokes, by Mrs. Steel, and Captain (now Major) Temple, by the\nPandit Natesa Sastri, by Mr. Knowles and Mr. Campbell, as well as\nothers who have published folk-tales in such periodicals as the\n_Indian Antiquary_ and _The Orientalist_. The story-store of modern\nIndia has been well dipped into during the last quarter of a century,\nthough the immense range of the country leaves room for any number of\nadditional workers and collections. Even so far as the materials\nalready collected go, a large number of the commonest incidents in\nEuropean folk-tales have been found in India. Whether brought there or\nborn there, we have scarcely any criterion for judging; but as some of\nthose still current among the folk in India can be traced back more\nthan a millennium, the presumption is in favour of an Indian origin.\n\nFrom all these sources--from the Jatakas, from the Bidpai, and from\nthe more recent collections--I have selected those stories which throw\nmost light on the origin of Fable and Folk-tales, and at the same time\nare most likely to attract English children. I have not, however,\nincluded too many stories of the Grimm types, lest I should repeat\nthe contents of the two preceding volumes of this series. This has to\nsome degree weakened the case for India as represented by this book.\nThe need of catering for the young ones has restricted my selection\nfrom the well-named \"Ocean of the Streams of Story,\" _Katha-Sarit\nSagara_ of Somadeva. The stories existing in Pali and Sanskrit I have\ntaken from translations, mostly from the German of Benfey or the\nvigorous English of Professor Rhys-Davids, whom I have to thank for\npermission to use his versions of the Jatakas.\n\nI have been enabled to make this book a representative collection of\nthe Fairy Tales of Ind by the kindness of the original collectors or\ntheir publishers. I have especially to thank Miss Frere, who kindly\nmade an exception in my favour, and granted me the use of that fine\nstory, \"Punchkin,\" and that quaint myth, \"How Sun, Moon, and Wind went\nout to Dinner.\" Miss Stokes has been equally gracious in granting me\nthe use of characteristic specimens from her \"Indian Fairy Tales.\" To\nMajor Temple I owe the advantage of selecting from his admirable\n_Wideawake Stories_, and Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Co. have allowed\nme to use Mr. Knowles' \"Folk-tales of Kashmir,\" in their Oriental\nLibrary; and Messrs. W. H. Allen have been equally obliging with\nregard to Mrs. Kingscote's \"Tales of the Sun.\" Mr. M. L. Dames has\nenabled me add to the published story-store of India by granting me\nthe use of one from his inedited collection of Baluchi folk-tales.\n\nI have again to congratulate myself on the co-operation of my friend\nMr. J. D. Batten in giving beautiful or amusing form to the creations\nof the folk fancy of the Hindoos. It is no slight thing to embody, as\nhe has done, the glamour and the humour both of the Celt and of the\nHindoo. It is only a further proof that Fairy Tales are something more\nthan Celtic or Hindoo. They are human.\n\nJOSEPH JACOBS.\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n                                                    PAGE\n\nI.      THE LION AND THE CRANE                        1\n\nII.     HOW THE RAJA'S SON WON THE PRINCESS LABAM     3\n\nIII.    THE LAMBIKIN                                 17\n\nIV.     PUNCHKIN                                     21\n\nV.      THE BROKEN POT                               38\n\nVI.     THE MAGIC FIDDLE                             40\n\nVII.    THE CRUEL CRANE OUTWITTED                    46\n\nVIII.   LOVING LAILI                                 51\n\nIX.     THE TIGER, THE BRAHMAN, AND THE JACKAL       66\n\nX.      THE SOOTHSAYER'S SON                         70\n\nXI.     HARISARMAN                                   85\n\nXII.    THE CHARMED RING                             90\n\nXIII.   THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE                      100\n\nXIV.    A LAC OF RUPEES FOR A PIECE OF ADVICE       103\n\nXV.     THE GOLD-GIVING SERPENT                     112\n\nXVI.    THE SON OF SEVEN QUEENS                     115\n\nXVII.   A LESSON FOR KINGS                          127\n\nXVIII.  PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL                   132\n\nXIX.    RAJA RASALU                                 136\n\nXX.     THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN                  150\n\nXXI.    THE FARMER AND THE MONEY-LENDER             152\n\nXXII.   THE BOY WHO HAD A MOON ON HIS FOREHEAD\n            AND A STAR ON HIS CHIN                  156\n\nXXIII.  THE PRINCE AND THE FAKIR                    179\n\nXXIV.   WHY THE FISH LAUGHED                        186\n\nXXV.    THE DEMON WITH THE MATTED HAIR              194\n\nXXVI.   THE IVORY CITY AND ITS FAIRY PRINCESS       199\n\nXXVII.  SUN, MOON, AND WIND GO OUT TO DINNER        218\n\nXXVIII. HOW THE WICKED SONS WERE DUPED              221\n\nXXIX.   THE PIGEON AND THE CROW                     223\n\n        NOTES AND REFERENCES                        227\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nFull-page Illustrations\n\n\nPRINCESS LABAM                              _Frontispiece_\n\nTHE LION AND THE CRANE          _To face page_       2\n\nPUNCHKIN                                 \"          36\n\nLOVING LAILI                             \"          64\n\nTHE CHARMED RING                         \"          96\n\nTHE SON OF SEVEN QUEENS                  \"         120\n\nRAJA RASALU                              \"         146\n\nBOY WITH MOON ON FOREHEAD                \"         165\n\nDEMON WITH MATTED HAIR                   \"         196\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     [Plates, vignettes, initials, and cuts are from \"process\"\n     blocks supplied by Messrs. J. C. Drummond & Co. of Covent\n     Garden.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe Lion and the Crane\n\n\nThe Bodhisatta was at one time born in the region of Himavanta as a\nwhite crane; now Brahmadatta was at that time reigning in Benares. Now\nit chanced that as a lion was eating meat a bone stuck in his throat.\nThe throat became swollen, he could not take food, his suffering was\nterrible. The crane seeing him, as he was perched on a tree looking\nfor food, asked, \"What ails thee, friend?\" He told him why. \"I could\nfree thee from that bone, friend, but dare not enter thy mouth for\nfear thou mightest eat me.\" \"Don't be afraid, friend, I'll not eat\nthee; only save my life.\" \"Very well,\" says he, and caused him to lie\ndown on his left side. But thinking to himself, \"Who knows what this\nfellow will do,\" he placed a small stick upright between his two jaws\nthat he could not close his mouth, and inserting his head inside his\nmouth struck one end of the bone with his beak. Whereupon the bone\ndropped and fell out. As soon as he had caused the bone to fall, he\ngot out of the lion's mouth, striking the stick with his beak so that\nit fell out, and then settled on a branch. The lion gets well, and\none day was eating a buffalo he had killed. The crane thinking \"I will\nsound him,\" settled on a branch just over him, and in conversation\nspoke this first verse:\n\n    \"A service have we done thee\n      To the best of our ability,\n    King of the Beasts! Your Majesty!\n      What return shall we get from thee?\"\n\nIn reply the Lion spoke the second verse:\n\n    \"As I feed on blood,\n      And always hunt for prey,\n    'Tis much that thou art still alive\n      Having once been between my teeth.\"\n\nThen in reply the crane said the two other verses:\n\n    \"Ungrateful, doing no good,\n      Not doing as he would be done by,\n    In him there is no gratitude,\n      To serve him is useless.\n\n    \"His friendship is not won\n      By the clearest good deed.\n    Better softly withdraw from him,\n      Neither envying nor abusing.\"\n\nAnd having thus spoken the crane flew away.\n\n_And when the great Teacher, Gautama the Buddha, told this tale, he\nused to add: \"Now at that time the lion was Devadatta the Traitor, but\nthe white crane was I myself.\"_\n\n[Illustration: THE LION AND THE CRANE]\n\n\n\n\nHow the Raja's Son won the Princess Labam.\n\n\nIn a country there was a Raja who had an only son who every day went\nout to hunt. One day the Rani, his mother, said to him, \"You can hunt\nwherever you like on these three sides; but you must never go to the\nfourth side.\" This she said because she knew if he went on the fourth\nside he would hear of the beautiful Princess Labam, and that then he\nwould leave his father and mother and seek for the princess.\n\nThe young prince listened to his mother, and obeyed her for some time;\nbut one day, when he was hunting on the three sides where he was\nallowed to go, he remembered what she had said to him about the fourth\nside, and he determined to go and see why she had forbidden him to\nhunt on that side. When he got there, he found himself in a jungle,\nand nothing in the jungle but a quantity of parrots, who lived in it.\nThe young Raja shot at some of them, and at once they all flew away up\nto the sky. All, that is, but one, and this was their Raja, who was\ncalled Hiraman parrot.\n\nWhen Hiraman parrot found himself left alone, he called out to the\nother parrots, \"Don't fly away and leave me alone when the Raja's son\nshoots. If you desert me like this, I will tell the Princess Labam.\"\n\nThen the parrots all flew back to their Raja, chattering. The prince\nwas greatly surprised, and said, \"Why, these birds can talk!\" Then he\nsaid to the parrots, \"Who is the Princess Labam? Where does she live?\"\nBut the parrots would not tell him where she lived. \"You can never get\nto the Princess Labam's country.\" That is all they would say.\n\nThe prince grew very sad when they would not tell him anything more;\nand he threw his gun away, and went home. When he got home, he would\nnot speak or eat, but lay on his bed for four or five days, and seemed\nvery ill.\n\nAt last he told his father and mother that he wanted to go and see the\nPrincess Labam. \"I must go,\" he said; \"I must see what she is like.\nTell me where her country is.\"\n\n\"We do not know where it is,\" answered his father and mother.\n\n\"Then I must go and look for it,\" said the prince.\n\n\"No, no,\" they said, \"you must not leave us. You are our only son.\nStay with us. You will never find the Princess Labam.\"\n\n\"I must try and find her,\" said the prince. \"Perhaps God will show me\nthe way. If I live and I find her, I will come back to you; but\nperhaps I shall die, and then I shall never see you again. Still I\nmust go.\"\n\nSo they had to let him go, though they cried very much at parting with\nhim. His father gave him fine clothes to wear, and a fine horse. And\nhe took his gun, and his bow and arrows, and a great many other\nweapons, \"for,\" he said, \"I may want them.\" His father, too, gave him\nplenty of rupees.\n\nThen he himself got his horse all ready for the journey, and he said\ngood-bye to his father and mother; and his mother took her\nhandkerchief and wrapped some sweetmeats in it, and gave it to her\nson. \"My child,\" she said to him, \"When you are hungry eat some of\nthese sweetmeats.\"\n\nHe then set out on his journey, and rode on and on till he came to a\njungle in which were a tank and shady trees. He bathed himself and his\nhorse in the tank, and then sat down under a tree. \"Now,\" he said to\nhimself, \"I will eat some of the sweetmeats my mother gave me, and I\nwill drink some water, and then I will continue my journey.\" He opened\nhis handkerchief, and took out a sweetmeat. He found an ant in it. He\ntook out another. There was an ant in that one too. So he laid the two\nsweetmeats on the ground, and he took out another, and another, and\nanother, until he had taken them all out; but in each he found an ant.\n\"Never mind,\" he said, \"I won't eat the sweetmeats; the ants shall eat\nthem.\" Then the Ant-Raja came and stood before him and said, \"You have\nbeen good to us. If ever you are in trouble, think of me and we will\ncome to you.\"\n\nThe Raja's son thanked him, mounted his horse and continued his\njourney. He rode on and on until he came to another jungle, and there\nhe saw a tiger who had a thorn in his foot, and was roaring loudly\nfrom the pain.\n\n\"Why do you roar like that?\" said the young Raja. \"What is the matter\nwith you?\"\n\n\"I have had a thorn in my foot for twelve years,\" answered the tiger,\n\"and it hurts me so; that is why I roar.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the Raja's son, \"I will take it out for you. But\nperhaps, as you are a tiger, when I have made you well, you will eat\nme?\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\"Oh, no,\" said the tiger, \"I won't eat you. Do make me well.\"\n\nThen the prince took a little knife from his pocket, and cut the thorn\nout of the tiger's foot; but when he cut, the tiger roared louder than\never--so loud that his wife heard him in the next jungle, and came\nbounding along to see what was the matter. The tiger saw her coming,\nand hid the prince in the jungle, so that she should not see him.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\"What man hurt you that you roared so loud?\" said the wife.\n\n\"No one hurt me,\" answered the husband; \"but a Raja's son came and\ntook the thorn out of my foot.\"\n\n\"Where is he? Show him to me,\" said his wife.\n\n\"If you promise not to kill him, I will call him,\" said the tiger.\n\n\"I won't kill him; only let me see him,\" answered his wife.\n\nThen the tiger called the Raja's son, and when he came the tiger and\nhis wife made him a great many salaams. Then they gave him a good\ndinner, and he stayed with them for three days. Every day he looked at\nthe tiger's foot, and the third day it was quite healed. Then he said\ngood-bye to the tigers, and the tiger said to him, \"If ever you are in\ntrouble, think of me, and we will come to you.\"\n\nThe Raja's son rode on and on till he came to a third jungle. Here he\nfound four fakirs whose teacher and master had died, and had left four\nthings,--a bed, which carried whoever sat on it whithersoever he\nwished to go; a bag, that gave its owner whatever he wanted, jewels,\nfood, or clothes; a stone bowl that gave its owner as much water as he\nwanted, no matter how far he might be from a tank; and a stick and\nrope, to which its owner had only to say, if any one came to make war\non him, \"Stick, beat as many men and soldiers as are here,\" and the\nstick would beat them and the rope would tie them up.\n\nThe four fakirs were quarrelling over these four things. One said, \"I\nwant this;\" another said, \"You cannot have it, for I want it;\" and so\non.\n\nThe Raja's son said to them, \"Do not quarrel for these things. I will\nshoot four arrows in four different directions. Whichever of you gets\nto my first arrow, shall have the first thing--the bed. Whosoever gets\nto the second arrow, shall have the second thing--the bag. He who gets\nto the third arrow, shall have the third thing--the bowl. And he who\ngets to the fourth arrow, shall have the last things--the stick and\nrope.\" To this they agreed, and the prince shot off his first arrow.\nAway raced the fakirs to get it. When they brought it back to him he\nshot off the second, and when they had found and brought it to him he\nshot off his third, and when they had brought him the third he shot\noff the fourth.\n\nWhile they were away looking for the fourth arrow the Raja's son let\nhis horse loose in the jungle, and sat on the bed, taking the bowl,\nthe stick and rope, and the bag with him. Then he said, \"Bed, I wish\nto go to the Princess Labam's country.\" The little bed instantly rose\nup into the air and began to fly, and it flew and flew till it came to\nthe Princess Labam's country, where it settled on the ground. The\nRaja's son asked some men he saw, \"Whose country is this?\"\n\n\"The Princess Labam's country,\" they answered. Then the prince went on\ntill he came to a house where he saw an old woman.\n\n\"Who are you?\" she said. \"Where do you come from?\"\n\n\"I come from a far country,\" he said; \"do let me stay with you\nto-night.\"\n\n\"No,\" she answered, \"I cannot let you stay with me; for our king has\nordered that men from other countries may not stay in his country. You\ncannot stay in my house.\"\n\n\"You are my aunty,\" said the prince; \"let me remain with you for this\none night. You see it is evening, and if I go into the jungle, then\nthe wild beasts will eat me.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the old woman, \"you may stay here to-night; but to-morrow\nmorning you must go away, for if the king hears you have passed the\nnight in my house, he will have me seized and put into prison.\"\n\nThen she took him into her house, and the Raja's son was very glad.\nThe old woman began preparing dinner, but he stopped her, \"Aunty,\" he\nsaid, \"I will give you food.\" He put his hand into his bag, saying,\n\"Bag, I want some dinner,\" and the bag gave him instantly a delicious\ndinner, served up on two gold plates. The old woman and the Raja's son\nthen dined together.\n\nWhen they had finished eating, the old woman said, \"Now I will fetch\nsome water.\"\n\n\"Don't go,\" said the prince. \"You shall have plenty of water\ndirectly.\" So he took his bowl and said to it, \"Bowl, I want some\nwater,\" and then it filled with water. When it was full, the prince\ncried out, \"Stop, bowl,\" and the bowl stopped filling. \"See, aunty,\"\nhe said, \"with this bowl I can always get as much water as I want.\"\n\nBy this time night had come. \"Aunty,\" said the Raja's son, \"why don't\nyou light a lamp?\"\n\n\"There is no need,\" she said. \"Our king has forbidden the people in\nhis country to light any lamps; for, as soon as it is dark, his\ndaughter, the Princess Labam, comes and sits on her roof, and she\nshines so that she lights up all the country and our houses, and we\ncan see to do our work as if it were day.\"\n\nWhen it was quite black night the princess got up. She dressed herself\nin her rich clothes and jewels, and rolled up her hair, and across her\nhead she put a band of diamonds and pearls. Then she shone like the\nmoon, and her beauty made night day. She came out of her room, and sat\non the roof of her palace. In the daytime she never came out of her\nhouse; she only came out at night. All the people in her father's\ncountry then went about their work and finished it.\n\nThe Raja's son watched the princess quietly, and was very happy. He\nsaid to himself, \"How lovely she is!\"\n\nAt midnight, when everybody had gone to bed, the princess came down\nfrom her roof, and went to her room; and when she was in bed and\nasleep, the Raja's son got up softly, and sat on his bed. \"Bed,\" he\nsaid to it, \"I want to go to the Princess Labam's bed-room.\" So the\nlittle bed carried him to the room where she lay fast asleep.\n\nThe young Raja took his bag and said, \"I want a great deal of\nbetel-leaf,\" and it at once gave him quantities of betel-leaf. This he\nlaid near the princess's bed, and then his little bed carried him back\nto the old woman's house.\n\nNext morning all the princess's servants found the betel-leaf, and\nbegan to eat it. \"Where did you get all that betel-leaf?\" asked the\nprincess.\n\n\"We found it near your bed,\" answered the servants. Nobody knew the\nprince had come in the night and put it all there.\n\nIn the morning the old woman came to the Raja's son. \"Now it is\nmorning,\" she said, \"and you must go; for if the king finds out all I\nhave done for you, he will seize me.\"\n\n\"I am ill to-day, dear aunty,\" said the prince; \"do let me stay till\nto-morrow morning.\"\n\n\"Good,\" said the old woman. So he stayed, and they took their dinner\nout of the bag, and the bowl gave them water.\n\nWhen night came the princess got up and sat on her roof, and at twelve\no'clock, when every one was in bed, she went to her bed-room, and was\nsoon fast asleep. Then the Raja's son sat on his bed, and it carried\nhim to the princess. He took his bag and said, \"Bag, I want a most\nlovely shawl.\" It gave him a splendid shawl, and he spread it over the\nprincess as she lay asleep. Then he went back to the old woman's house\nand slept till morning.\n\nIn the morning, when the princess saw the shawl she was delighted.\n\"See, mother,\" she said; \"Khuda must have given me this shawl, it is\nso beautiful.\" Her mother was very glad too.\n\n\"Yes, my child,\" she said; \"Khuda must have given you this splendid\nshawl.\"\n\nWhen it was morning the old woman said to the Raja's son, \"Now you\nmust really go.\"\n\n\"Aunty,\" he answered, \"I am not well enough yet. Let me stay a few\ndays longer. I will remain hidden in your house, so that no one may\nsee me.\" So the old woman let him stay.\n\nWhen it was black night, the princess put on her lovely clothes and\njewels, and sat on her roof. At midnight she went to her room and went\nto sleep. Then the Raja's son sat on his bed and flew to her bed-room.\nThere he said to his bag, \"Bag, I want a very, very beautiful ring.\"\nThe bag gave him a glorious ring. Then he took the Princess Labam's\nhand gently to put on the ring, and she started up very much\nfrightened.\n\n\"Who are you?\" she said to the prince. \"Where do you come from? Why do\nyou come to my room?\"\n\n\"Do not be afraid, princess,\" he said; \"I am no thief. I am a great\nRaja's son. Hiraman parrot, who lives in the jungle where I went to\nhunt, told me your name, and then I left my father and mother, and\ncame to see you.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the princess, \"as you are the son of such a great Raja,\nI will not have you killed, and I will tell my father and mother that\nI wish to marry you.\"\n\nThe prince then returned to the old woman's house; and when morning\ncame the princess said to her mother, \"The son of a great Raja has\ncome to this country, and I wish to marry him.\" Her mother told this\nto the king.\n\n\"Good,\" said the king; \"but if this Raja's son wishes to marry my\ndaughter, he must first do whatever I bid him. If he fails I will kill\nhim. I will give him eighty pounds weight of mustard seed, and out of\nthis he must crush the oil in one day. If he cannot do this he shall\ndie.\"\n\nIn the morning the Raja's son told the old woman that he intended to\nmarry the princess. \"Oh,\" said the old woman, \"go away from this\ncountry, and do not think of marrying her. A great many Rajas and\nRajas' sons have come here to marry her, and her father has had them\nall killed. He says whoever wishes to marry his daughter must first do\nwhatever he bids him. If he can, then he shall marry the princess; if\nhe cannot, the king will have him killed. But no one can do the things\nthe king tells him to do; so all the Rajas and Rajas' sons who have\ntried have been put to death. You will be killed too, if you try. Do\ngo away.\" But the prince would not listen to anything she said.\n\nThe king sent for the prince to the old woman's house, and his\nservants brought the Raja's son to the king's court-house to the king.\nThere the king gave him eighty pounds of mustard seed, and told him to\ncrush all the oil out of it that day, and bring it next morning to him\nto the court-house. \"Whoever wishes to marry my daughter,\" he said to\nthe prince, \"must first do all I tell him. If he cannot, then I have\nhim killed. So if you cannot crush all the oil out of this mustard\nseed, you will die.\"\n\nThe prince was very sorry when he heard this. \"How can I crush the oil\nout of all this mustard seed in one day?\" he said to himself; \"and if\nI do not, the king will kill me.\" He took the mustard seed to the old\nwoman's house, and did not know what to do. At last he remembered the\nAnt-Raja, and the moment he did so, the Ant-Raja and his ants came to\nhim. \"Why do you look so sad?\" said the Ant-Raja.\n\nThe prince showed him the mustard seed, and said to him, \"How can I\ncrush the oil out of all this mustard seed in one day? And if I do not\ntake the oil to the king to-morrow morning, he will kill me.\"\n\n\"Be happy,\" said the Ant-Raja; \"lie down and sleep; we will crush all\nthe oil out for you during the day, and to-morrow morning you shall\ntake it to the king.\" The Raja's son lay down and slept, and the ants\ncrushed out the oil for him. The prince was very glad when he saw the\noil.\n\nThe next morning he took it to the court-house to the king. But the\nking said, \"You cannot yet marry my daughter. If you wish to do so,\nyou must first fight with my two demons and kill them.\" The king a\nlong time ago had caught two demons, and then, as he did not know what\nto do with them, he had shut them up in a cage. He was afraid to let\nthem loose for fear they would eat up all the people in his country;\nand he did not know how to kill them. So all the kings and kings' sons\nwho wanted to marry the Princess Labam had to fight with these\ndemons; \"for,\" said the king to himself, \"perhaps the demons may be\nkilled, and then I shall be rid of them.\"\n\nWhen he heard of the demons the Raja's son was very sad. \"What can I\ndo?\" he said to himself. \"How can I fight with these two demons?\" Then\nhe thought of his tiger: and the tiger and his wife came to him and\nsaid, \"Why are you so sad?\" The Raja's son answered, \"The king has\nordered me to fight with his two demons and kill them. How can I do\nthis?\" \"Do not be frightened,\" said the tiger. \"Be happy. I and my\nwife will fight with them for you.\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThen the Raja's son took out of his bag two splendid coats. They were\nall gold and silver, and covered with pearls and diamonds. These he\nput on the tigers to make them beautiful, and he took them to the\nking, and said to him, \"May these tigers fight your demons for me?\"\n\"Yes,\" said the king, who did not care in the least who killed his\ndemons, provided they were killed. \"Then call your demons,\" said the\nRaja's son, \"and these tigers will fight them.\" The king did so, and\nthe tigers and the demons fought and fought until the tigers had\nkilled the demons.\n\n\"That is good,\" said the king. \"But you must do something else before\nI give you my daughter. Up in the sky I have a kettle-drum. You must\ngo and beat it. If you cannot do this, I will kill you.\"\n\nThe Raja's son thought of his little bed; so he went to the old\nwoman's house and sat on his bed. \"Little bed,\" he said, \"up in the\nsky is the king's kettle-drum. I want to go to it.\" The bed flew up\nwith him, and the Raja's son beat the drum, and the king heard him.\nStill, when he came down, the king would not give him his daughter.\n\"You have,\" he said to the prince, \"done the three things I told you\nto do; but you must do one thing more.\" \"If I can, I will,\" said the\nRaja's son.\n\nThen the king showed him the trunk of a tree that was lying near his\ncourt-house. It was a very, very thick trunk. He gave the prince a wax\nhatchet, and said, \"To-morrow morning you must cut this trunk in two\nwith this wax hatchet.\"\n\nThe Raja's son went back to the old woman's house. He was very sad,\nand thought that now the Raja would certainly kill him. \"I had his oil\ncrushed out by the ants,\" he said to himself. \"I had his demons killed\nby the tigers. My bed helped me to beat his kettle-drum. But now what\ncan I do? How can I cut that thick tree-trunk in two with a wax\nhatchet?\"\n\nAt night he went on his bed to see the princess. \"To-morrow,\" he said\nto her, \"your father will kill me.\" \"Why?\" asked the princess.\n\n\"He has told me to cut a thick tree-trunk in two with a wax hatchet.\nHow can I ever do that?\" said the Raja's son. \"Do not be afraid,\" said\nthe princess; \"do as I bid you, and you will cut it in two quite\neasily.\"\n\nThen she pulled out a hair from her head, and gave it to the prince.\n\"To-morrow,\" she said, \"when no one is near you, you must say to the\ntree-trunk, 'The Princess Labam commands you to let yourself be cut in\ntwo by this hair.' Then stretch the hair down the edge of the wax\nhatchet's blade.\"\n\nThe prince next day did exactly as the princess had told him; and the\nminute the hair that was stretched down the edge of the hatchet-blade\ntouched the tree-trunk it split into two pieces.\n\nThe king said, \"Now you can marry my daughter.\" Then the wedding took\nplace. All the Rajas and kings of the countries round were asked to\ncome to it, and there were great rejoicings. After a few days the\nprince's son said to his wife, \"Let us go to my father's country.\" The\nPrincess Labam's father gave them a quantity of camels and horses and\nrupees and servants; and they travelled in great state to the prince's\ncountry, where they lived happily.\n\nThe prince always kept his bag, bowl, bed, and stick; only, as no one\never came to make war on him, he never needed to use the stick.\n\n\n\n\nThe Lambikin\n\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 who\nshould he meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and\nsaid: \"Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!\"\n\n[Illustration:]\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 Lambikin 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 YOU!\"\n\n[Illustration:]\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 Lambikin 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\n[Illustration:]\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\n[Illustration:]\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    \"Fallen into the fire, and so will 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 slyboots replied:\n\n    \"Fallen into the fire, and so will you\n    On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum too;\n    Tum-pa, tum-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 Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gaily:\n\n    \"Fallen into the fire, and so will 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\nPunchkin\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters.\nThey were all good girls; but the youngest, named Balna, was more\nclever than the rest. The Raja's wife died when they were quite little\nchildren, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to\ntake care of them.\n\nThe Raja's daughters took it by turns to cook their father's dinner\nevery day, whilst he was absent deliberating with his Ministers on the\naffairs of the nation.\n\nAbout this time the Prudhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter;\nand every day, every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing\ntheir father's dinner, the Prudhan's widow and daughter would come and\nbeg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her\nsisters, \"Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at\nher own house. What does she want with ours? If we allow her to come\nhere, we shall suffer for it some day.\"\n\nBut the other sisters would answer, \"Be quiet, Balna; why must you\nalways be quarrelling with this poor woman? Let her take some fire if\nshe likes.\" Then the Prudhan's widow used to go to the hearth and take\na few sticks from it; and whilst no one was looking, she would quickly\nthrow some mud into the midst of the dishes which were being prepared\nfor the Raja's dinner.\n\nNow the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother's\ndeath they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in order to\navoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, when he\nfound the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from\ntheir carelessness, as it did not seem likely that any one should have\nput mud there on purpose; but being very kind he did not like to\nreprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated\nmany successive days.\n\nAt last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters\ncooking, and see how it all happened; so he went into the next room,\nand watched them through a hole in the wall.\n\nThere he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and\npreparing the curry, and as each dish was completed, they put it by\nthe fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Prudhan's widow come\nto the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her\ndinner with. Balna turned to her, angrily, and said, \"Why don't you\nkeep fuel in your own house, and not come here every day and take\nours? Sisters, don't give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for\nherself.\"\n\nThen the eldest sister answered, \"Balna, let the poor woman take the\nwood and the fire; she does us no harm.\" But Balna replied, \"If you\nlet her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make\nus sorry for it, some day.\"\n\nThe Raja then saw the Prudhan's widow go to the place where all his\ndinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a\nlittle mud into each of the dishes.\n\nAt this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and\nbrought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had\nplayed this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him; and\nshe spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words,\nthat instead of punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his\nRanee, and she and her daughter came to live in the palace.\n\nNow the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get\nthem, if possible, out of the way, in order that her daughter might\nhave all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in their\nplace; and instead of being grateful to them for their kindness to\nher, she did all she could to make them miserable. She gave them\nnothing but bread to eat, and very little of that, and very little\nwater to drink; so these seven poor little Princesses, who had been\naccustomed to have everything comfortable about them, and good food\nand good clothes all their lives long, were very miserable and\nunhappy; and they used to go out every day and sit by their dead\nmother's tomb and cry--and say:\n\n\"Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we\nare, and how we are starved by our cruel step-mother?\"\n\nOne day, whilst they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a\nbeautiful pomelo tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh\nripe pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some\nof the fruit, and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the\nbad dinner their step-mother provided for them, they used to go out to\ntheir mother's grave and eat the pomeloes which grew there on the\nbeautiful tree.\n\nThen the Ranee said to her daughter, \"I cannot tell how it is, every\nday those seven girls say they don't want any dinner, and won't eat\nany; and yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than\nyou do. I cannot tell how it is.\" And she bade her watch the seven\nPrincesses, and see if any one gave them anything to eat.\n\nSo next day, when the Princesses went to their mother's grave, and\nwere eating the beautiful pomeloes, the Prudhan's daughter followed\nthem, and saw them gathering the fruit.\n\nThen Balna said to her sisters, \"Do you not see that girl watching us?\nLet us drive her away, or hide the pomeloes, else she will go and tell\nher mother all about it, and that will be very bad for us.\"\n\nBut the other sisters said, \"Oh no, do not be unkind, Balna. The girl\nwould never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us rather invite\nher to come and have some of the fruit.\" And calling her to them,\nthey gave her one of the pomeloes.\n\nNo sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Prudhan's daughter went\nhome and said to her mother, \"I do not wonder the seven Princesses\nwill not eat the dinner you prepare for them, for by their mother's\ngrave there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go there every day\nand eat the pomeloes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I have ever\ntasted.\"\n\nThe cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she\nstayed in her room, and told the Raja that she had a very bad\nheadache. The Raja was deeply grieved, and said to his wife, \"What can\nI do for you?\" She answered, \"There is only one thing that will make\nmy headache well. By your dead wife's tomb there grows a fine pomelo\ntree; you must bring that here, and boil it, root and branch, and put\na little of the water in which it has been boiled, on my forehead, and\nthat will cure my headache.\" So the Raja sent his servants, and had\nthe beautiful pomelo tree pulled up by the roots, and did as the Ranee\ndesired; and when some of the water, in which it had been boiled, was\nput on her forehead, she said her headache was gone and she felt quite\nwell.\n\nNext day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of\ntheir mother, the pomelo tree had disappeared. Then they all began to\ncry very bitterly.\n\nNow there was by the Ranee's tomb a small tank, and as they were\ncrying they saw that the tank was filled with a rich cream-like\nsubstance, which quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing\nthis all the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake,\nand liked it; and next day the same thing happened, and so it went on\nfor many days. Every morning the Princesses went to their mother's\ngrave, and found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like\ncake. Then the cruel step-mother said to her daughter: \"I cannot tell\nhow it is, I have had the pomelo tree which used to grow by the\nRanee's grave destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner, nor\nlook more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot\ntell how it is!\"\n\nAnd her daughter said, \"I will watch.\"\n\nNext day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should\ncome by but their step-mother's daughter. Balna saw her first, and\nsaid, \"See, sisters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the\nedge of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some\nof our cake, she will go and tell her mother; and that will be very\nunfortunate for us.\"\n\nThe other sisters, however, thought Balna unnecessarily suspicious,\nand instead of following her advice, they gave the Prudhan's daughter\nsome of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all about it.\n\nThe Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly\nangry, and sent her servants to pull down the dead Ranee's tomb, and\nfill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she\nnext day pretended to be very, very ill--in fact, at the point of\ndeath--and when the Raja was much grieved, and asked her whether it\nwas in his power to procure her any remedy, she said to him: \"Only one\nthing can save my life, but I know you will not do it.\" He replied,\n\"Yes, whatever it is, I will do it.\" She then said, \"To save my life,\nyou must kill the seven daughters of your first wife, and put some of\ntheir blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their\ndeath will be my life.\" At these words the Raja was very sorrowful;\nbut because he feared to break his word, he went out with a heavy\nheart to find his daughters.\n\nHe found them crying by the ruins of their mother's grave.\n\nThen, feeling he could not kill them, the Raja spoke kindly to them,\nand told them to come out into the jungle with him; and there he made\na fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the\nafternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep,\nand when he saw they were fast asleep, the Raja, their father, stole\naway and left them (for he feared his wife), saying to himself: \"It is\nbetter my poor daughters should die here, than be killed by their\nstep-mother.\"\n\nHe then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the\nforehead and hands of the Ranee, and she thought then that he had\nreally killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well.\n\nMeantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves\nall alone in the thick jungle they were much frightened, and began to\ncall out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their father hear;\nbut he was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear\nthem even had their voices been as loud as thunder.\n\nIt so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a\nneighbouring Raja chanced to be hunting in that same jungle, and as\nthey were returning home, after the day's sport was over, the youngest\nPrince said to his brothers: \"Stop, I think I hear some one crying and\ncalling out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go in the direction of\nthe sound, and find out what it is.\"\n\nSo the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the\nplace where the seven Princesses sat crying and wringing their hands.\nAt the sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and\nstill more so on learning their story; and they settled that each\nshould take one of these poor forlorn ladies home with him, and marry\nher.\n\nSo the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him,\nand married her.\n\nAnd the second took the second;\n\nAnd the third took the third;\n\nAnd the fourth took the fourth;\n\nAnd the fifth took the fifth;\n\nAnd the sixth took the sixth;\n\nAnd the seventh, and the handsomest of all, took the beautiful Balna.\n\nAnd when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing\nthroughout the kingdom, at the marriage of the seven young Princes to\nseven such beautiful Princesses.\n\nAbout a year after this Balna had a little son, and his uncles and\naunts were so fond of the boy that it was as if he had seven fathers\nand seven mothers. None of the other Princes and Princesses had any\nchildren, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was acknowledged\ntheir heir by all the rest.\n\nThey had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the\nseventh Prince (Balna's husband) said he would go out hunting, and\naway he went; and they waited long for him, but he never came back.\n\nThen his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of\nhim; and they went away, but they also did not return.\n\nAnd the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they feared that their\nkind husbands must have been killed.\n\nOne day, not long after this had happened, as Balna was rocking her\nbaby's cradle, and whilst her sisters were working in the room below,\nthere came to the palace door a man in a long black dress, who said\nthat he was a Fakir, and came to beg. The servants said to him, \"You\ncannot go into the palace--the Raja's sons have all gone away; we\nthink they must be dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by\nyour begging.\" But he said, \"I am a holy man, you must let me in.\"\nThen the stupid servants let him walk through the palace, but they did\nnot know that this was no Fakir, but a wicked Magician named Punchkin.\n\nPunchkin Fakir wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful\nthings there, till at last he reached the room where Balna sat singing\nbeside her little boy's cradle. The Magician thought her more\nbeautiful than all the other beautiful things he had seen, insomuch\nthat he asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said,\n\"My husband, I fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young;\nI will stay here and teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is\ngrown up he shall go out into the world, and try and learn tidings of\nhis father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry you.\"\nAt these words the Magician was very angry, and turned her into a\nlittle black dog, and led her away; saying, \"Since you will not come\nwith me of your own free will, I will make you.\" So the poor Princess\nwas dragged away, without any power of effecting an escape, or of\nletting her sisters know what had become of her. As Punchkin passed\nthrough the palace gate the servants said to him, \"Where did you get\nthat pretty little dog?\" And he answered, \"One of the Princesses gave\nit to me as a present.\" At hearing which they let him go without\nfurther questioning.\n\nSoon after this, the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their\nnephew, begin to cry, and when they went upstairs they were much\nsurprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. Then\nthey questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the\nlittle black dog, they guessed what had happened, and sent in every\ndirection seeking them, but neither the Fakir nor the dog were to be\nfound. What could six poor women do? They gave up all hopes of ever\nseeing their kind husbands, and their sister, and her husband, again,\nand devoted themselves thenceforward to teaching and taking care of\ntheir little nephew.\n\nThus time went on, till Balna's son was fourteen years old. Then, one\nday, his aunts told him the history of the family; and no sooner did\nhe hear it, than he was seized with a great desire to go in search of\nhis father and mother and uncles, and if he could find them alive to\nbring them home again. His aunts, on learning his determination, were\nmuch alarmed and tried to dissuade him, saying, \"We have lost our\nhusbands, and our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole\nhope; if you go away, what shall we do?\" But he replied, \"I pray you\nnot to be discouraged; I will return soon, and if it is possible bring\nmy father and mother and uncles with me.\" So he set out on his\ntravels; but for some months he could learn nothing to help him in\nhis search.\n\nAt last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary miles, and\nbecome almost hopeless of ever hearing anything further of his\nparents, he one day came to a country that seemed full of stones, and\nrocks, and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high tower;\nhard by which was a Malee's little house.\n\nAs he was looking about, the Malee's wife saw him, and ran out of the\nhouse and said, \"My dear boy, who are you that dare venture to this\ndangerous place?\" He answered, \"I am a Raja's son, and I come in\nsearch of my father, and my uncles, and my mother whom a wicked\nenchanter bewitched.\"\n\nThen the Malee's wife said, \"This country and this palace belong to a\ngreat enchanter; he is all powerful, and if any one displeases him, he\ncan turn them into stones and trees. All the rocks and trees you see\nhere were living people once, and the Magician turned them to what\nthey now are. Some time ago a Raja's son came here, and shortly\nafterwards came his six brothers, and they were all turned into stones\nand trees; and these are not the only unfortunate ones, for up in that\ntower lives a beautiful Princess, whom the Magician has kept prisoner\nthere for twelve years, because she hates him and will not marry him.\"\n\nThen the little Prince thought, \"These must be my parents and my\nuncles. I have found what I seek at last.\" So he told his story to the\nMalee's wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place\nawhile and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she\nmentioned; and she promised to befriend him, and advised his\ndisguising himself lest the Magician should see him, and turn him\nlikewise into stone. To this the Prince agreed. So the Malee's wife\ndressed him up in a saree, and pretended that he was her daughter.\n\nOne day, not long after this, as the Magician was walking in his\ngarden he saw the little girl (as he thought) playing about, and asked\nher who she was. She told him she was the Malee's daughter, and the\nMagician said, \"You are a pretty little girl, and to-morrow you shall\ntake a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in\nthe tower.\"\n\nThe young Prince was much delighted at hearing this, and went\nimmediately to inform the Malee's wife; after consultation with whom\nhe determined that it would be more safe for him to retain his\ndisguise, and trust to the chance of a favourable opportunity for\nestablishing some communication with his mother, if it were indeed\nshe.\n\nNow it happened that at Balna's marriage her husband had given her a\nsmall gold ring on which her name was engraved, and she had put it on\nher little son's finger when he was a baby, and afterwards when he was\nolder his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still able\nto wear it. The Malee's wife advised him to fasten the well-known\ntreasure to one of the bouquets he presented to his mother, and trust\nto her recognising it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as\nsuch a strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear of her\never establishing communication with her friends), that though the\nsupposed Malee's daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day,\nthe Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time.\nAt last one day, however, opportunity favoured him, and when no one\nwas looking, the boy tied the ring to a nosegay, and threw it at\nBalna's feet. It fell with a clang on the floor, and Balna, looking to\nsee what made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the\nflowers. On recognising it, she at once believed the story her son\ntold her of his long search, and begged him to advise her as to what\nshe had better do; at the same time entreating him on no account to\nendanger his life by trying to rescue her. She told him that for\ntwelve long years the Magician had kept her shut up in the tower\nbecause she refused to marry him, and she was so closely guarded that\nshe saw no hope of release.\n\nNow Balna's son was a bright, clever boy, so he said, \"Do not fear,\ndear mother; the first thing to do is to discover how far the\nMagician's power extends, in order that we may be able to liberate my\nfather and uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of rocks and\ntrees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve long years; now\nrather speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of again\nseeing the husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing\nto marry him. Then endeavour to find out what his power consists in,\nand whether he is immortal, or can be put to death.\"\n\nBalna determined to take her son's advice; and the next day sent for\nPunchkin, and spoke to him as had been suggested.\n\nThe Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to allow the wedding to\ntake place as soon as possible.\n\nBut she told him that before she married him he must allow her a\nlittle more time, in which she might make his acquaintance, and that,\nafter being enemies so long, their friendship could but strengthen by\ndegrees. \"And do tell me,\" she said, \"are you quite immortal? Can\ndeath never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel\nhuman suffering?\"\n\n\"Why do you ask?\" said he.\n\n\"Because,\" she replied, \"if I am to be your wife, I would fain know\nall about you, in order, if any calamity threatens you, to overcome,\nor if possible to avert it.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" he added, \"that I am not as others. Far, far away,\nhundreds of thousands of miles from this, there lies a desolate\ncountry covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a\ncircle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six\nchattees full of water, piled one above another: below the sixth\nchattee is a small cage which contains a little green parrot; on the\nlife of the parrot depends my life; and if the parrot is killed I must\ndie. It is, however,\" he added, \"impossible that the parrot should\nsustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility of the\ncountry, and because, by my appointment, many thousand genii surround\nthe palm trees, and kill all who approach the place.\"\n\nBalna told her son what Punchkin had said; but at the same time\nimplored him to give up all idea of getting the parrot.\n\nThe Prince, however, replied, \"Mother, unless I can get hold of that\nparrot, you, and my father, and uncles, cannot be liberated: be not\nafraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in\ngood humour--still putting off your marriage with him on various\npretexts; and before he finds out the cause of delay, I will be here.\"\nSo saying, he went away.\n\nMany, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick\njungle; and, being very tired, sat down under a tree and fell asleep.\nHe was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a\nlarge serpent which was making its way to an eagle's nest built in the\ntree under which he lay, and in the nest were two young eagles. The\nPrince seeing the danger of the young birds, drew his sword, and\nkilled the serpent; at the same moment a rushing sound was heard in\nthe air, and the two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for\ntheir young ones, returned. They quickly saw the dead serpent and the\nyoung Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him,\n\"Dear boy, for many years all our young ones have been devoured by\nthat cruel serpent; you have now saved the lives of our children;\nwhenever you are in need, therefore, send to us and we will help you;\nand as for these little eagles, take them, and let them be your\nservants.\"\n\nAt this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their\nwings, on which he mounted; and they carried him far, far away over\nthe thick jungles, until he came to the place where grew the circle of\npalm trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full of\nwater. It was the middle of the day, and the heat was very great. All\nround the trees were the genii fast asleep; nevertheless, there were\nsuch countless thousands of them, that it would have been quite\nimpossible for any one to walk through their ranks to the place; down\nswooped the strong-winged eaglets--down jumped the Prince; in an\ninstant he had overthrown the six chattees full of water, and seized\nthe little green parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak; while, as\nhe mounted again into the air, all the genii below awoke, and finding\ntheir treasure gone, set up a wild and melancholy howl.\n\nAway, away flew the little eagles, till they came to their home in the\ngreat tree; then the Prince said to the old eagles, \"Take back your\nlittle ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I stand in\nneed of help, I will not fail to come to you.\" He then continued his\njourney on foot till he arrived once more at the Magician's palace,\nwhere he sat down at the door and began playing with the parrot.\nPunchkin saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, \"My boy, where\ndid you get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray you.\"\n\nBut the Prince answered, \"Oh no, I cannot give away my parrot, it is a\ngreat pet of mine; I have had it many years.\"\n\nThen the Magician said, \"If it is an old favourite, I can understand\nyour not caring to give it away; but come what will you sell it for?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the Prince, \"I will not sell my parrot.\"\n\nThen Punchkin got frightened, and said, \"Anything, anything; name what\nprice you will, and it shall be yours.\" The Prince answered, \"Let the\nseven Raja's sons whom you turned into rocks and trees be instantly\nliberated.\"\n\n\"It is done as you desire,\" said the Magician, \"only give me my\nparrot.\" And with that, by a stroke of his wand, Balna's husband and\nhis brothers resumed their natural shapes. \"Now, give me my parrot,\"\nrepeated Punchkin.\n\n\"Not so fast, my master,\" rejoined the Prince; \"I must first\nbeg that you will restore to life all whom you have thus imprisoned.\"\n\n[Illustration: Punchkin's Prisoners are set free.]\n\nThe Magician immediately waved his wand again; and, whilst he cried,\nin an imploring voice, \"Give me my parrot!\" the whole garden became\nsuddenly alive: where rocks, and stones, and trees had been before,\nstood Rajas, and Punts, and Sirdars, and mighty men on prancing\nhorses, and jewelled pages, and troops of armed attendants.\n\n\"Give me my parrot!\" cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the\nparrot, and tore off one of its wings; and as he did so the Magician's\nright arm fell off.\n\nPunchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, \"Give me my parrot!\"\nThe Prince pulled off the parrot's second wing, and the Magician's\nleft arm tumbled off.\n\n\"Give me my parrot!\" cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince\npulled off the parrot's right leg, the Magician's right leg fell off:\nthe Prince pulled off the parrot's left leg, down fell the Magician's\nleft.\n\nNothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still\nhe rolled his eyes, and cried, \"Give me my parrot!\" \"Take your parrot,\nthen,\" cried the boy, and with that he wrung the bird's neck, and\nthrew it at the Magician; and, as he did so, Punchkin's head twisted\nround, and, with a fearful groan, he died!\n\nThen they let Balna out of the tower; and she, her son, and the seven\nPrinces went to their own country, and lived very happily ever\nafterwards. And as to the rest of the world, every one went to his own\nhouse.\n\n\n\n\nThe Broken Pot\n\n\nThere lived in a certain place a Brahman, whose name was\nSvabhavak_ri_pa_n_a, which means \"a born miser.\" He had collected a\nquantity of rice by begging, and after having dined off it, he filled\na pot with what was left over. He hung the pot on a peg on the wall,\nplaced his couch beneath, and looking intently at it all the night, he\nthought, \"Ah, that pot is indeed brimful of rice. Now, if there should\nbe a famine, I should certainly make a hundred rupees by it. With this\nI shall buy a couple of goats. They will have young ones every six\nmonths, and thus I shall have a whole herd of goats. Then, with the\ngoats, I shall buy cows. As soon as they have calved, I shall sell the\ncalves. Then, with the calves, I shall buy buffaloes; with the\nbuffaloes, mares. When the mares have foaled, I shall have plenty of\nhorses; and when I sell them, plenty of gold. With that gold I shall\nget a house with four wings. And then a Brahman will come to my house,\nand will give me his beautiful daughter, with a large dowry. She will\nhave a son, and I shall call him Somasarman.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nWhen he is old enough to be danced on his father's knee, I shall sit\nwith a book at the back of the stable, and while I am reading, the boy\nwill see me, jump from his mother's lap, and run towards me to be\ndanced on my knee. He will come too near the horse's hoof, and, full\nof anger, I shall call to my wife, 'Take the baby; take him!' But she,\ndistracted by some domestic work, does not hear me. Then I get up, and\ngive her such a kick with my foot.\" While he thought this, he gave a\nkick with his foot, and broke the pot. All the rice fell over him, and\nmade him quite white. Therefore, I say, \"He who makes foolish plans\nfor the future will be white all over, like the father of\nSomasarman.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Magic Fiddle\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived seven brothers and a sister. The brothers\nwere married, but their wives did not do the cooking for the family.\nIt was done by their sister, who stopped at home to cook. The wives\nfor this reason bore their sister-in-law much ill-will, and at length\nthey combined together to oust her from the office of cook and general\nprovider, so that one of themselves might obtain it. They said, \"She\ndoes not go out to the fields to work, but remains quietly at home,\nand yet she has not the meals ready at the proper time.\" They then\ncalled upon their Bonga, and vowing vows unto him they secured his\ngood-will and assistance; then they said to the Bonga, \"At midday when\nour sister-in-law goes to bring water, cause it thus to happen, that\non seeing her pitcher the water shall vanish, and again slowly\nre-appear. In this way she will be delayed. Let the water not flow\ninto her pitcher, and you may keep the maiden as your own.\"\n\nAt noon when she went to bring water, it suddenly dried up before her,\nand she began to weep. Then after a while the water began slowly to\nrise. When it reached her ankles she tried to fill her pitcher, but it\nwould not go under the water. Being frightened she began to wail and\ncry to her brother:\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n    \"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my ankles,\n    Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.\"\n\nThe water continued to rise until it reached her knee, when she began\nto wail again:\n\n    \"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my knee,\n    Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.\"\n\nThe water continued to rise, and when it reached her waist, she cried\nagain:\n\n    \"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my waist,\n    Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.\"\n\nThe water still rose, and when it reached her neck she kept on crying:\n\n    \"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my neck,\n    Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.\"\n\nAt length the water became so deep that she felt herself drowning,\nthen she cried aloud:\n\n    \"Oh! my brother, the water measures a man's height,\n    Oh! my brother, the pitcher begins to fill.\"\n\nThe pitcher filled with water, and along with it she sank and was\ndrowned. The Bonga then transformed her into a Bonga like himself, and\ncarried her off.\n\nAfter a time she re-appeared as a bamboo growing on the embankment of\nthe tank in which she had been drowned. When the bamboo had grown to\nan immense size, a Jogi, who was in the habit of passing that way,\nseeing it, said to himself, \"This will make a splendid fiddle.\" So one\nday he brought an axe to cut it down; but when he was about to begin,\nthe bamboo called out, \"Do not cut at the root, cut higher up.\" When\nhe lifted his axe to cut high up the stem, the bamboo cried out, \"Do\nnot cut near the top, cut at the root.\" When the Jogi again prepared\nhimself to cut at the root as requested, the bamboo said, \"Do not cut\nat the root, cut higher up;\" and when he was about to cut higher up,\nit again called out to him, \"Do not cut high up, cut at the root.\" The\nJogi by this time felt sure that a Bonga was trying to frighten him,\nso becoming angry he cut down the bamboo at the root, and taking it\naway made a fiddle out of it. The instrument had a superior tone and\ndelighted all who heard it. The Jogi carried it with him when he went\na-begging, and through the influence of its sweet music he returned\nhome every evening with a full wallet.\n\nHe now and then visited, when on his rounds, the house of the Bonga\ngirl's brothers, and the strains of the fiddle affected them greatly.\nSome of them were moved even to tears, for the fiddle seemed to wail\nas one in bitter anguish. The elder brother wished to purchase it, and\noffered to support the Jogi for a whole year if he would consent to\npart with his wonderful instrument. The Jogi, however, knew its value,\nand refused to sell it.\n\nIt so happened that the Jogi some time after went to the house of a\nvillage chief, and after playing a tune or two on his fiddle asked for\nsomething to eat. They offered to buy his fiddle and promised a high\nprice for it, but he refused to sell it, as his fiddle brought to him\nhis means of livelihood. When they saw that he was not to be prevailed\nupon, they gave him food and a plentiful supply of liquor. Of the\nlatter he drank so freely that he presently became intoxicated. While\nhe was in this condition, they took away his fiddle, and substituted\ntheir own old one for it. When the Jogi recovered, he missed his\ninstrument, and suspecting that it had been stolen asked them to\nreturn it to him. They denied having taken it, so he had to depart,\nleaving his fiddle behind him. The chief's son, being a musician, used\nto play on the Jogi's fiddle, and in his hands the music it gave forth\ndelighted the ears of all who heard it.\n\nWhen all the household were absent at their labours in the fields, the\nBonga girl used to come out of the bamboo fiddle, and prepared the\nfamily meal. Having eaten her own share, she placed that of the\nchief's son under his bed, and covering it up to keep off the dust,\nre-entered the fiddle. This happening every day, the other members of\nthe household thought that some girl friend of theirs was in this\nmanner showing her interest in the young man, so they did not trouble\nthemselves to find out how it came about. The young chief, however,\nwas determined to watch, and see which of his girl friends was so\nattentive to his comfort. He said in his own mind, \"I will catch her\nto-day, and give her a sound beating; she is causing me to be ashamed\nbefore the others.\" So saying, he hid himself in a corner in a pile of\nfirewood. In a short time the girl came out of the bamboo fiddle, and\nbegan to dress her hair. Having completed her toilet, she cooked the\nmeal of rice as usual, and having eaten some herself, she placed the\nyoung man's portion under his bed, as before, and was about to enter\nthe fiddle again, when he, running out from his hiding-place, caught\nher in his arms. The Bonga girl exclaimed, \"Fie! Fie! you may be a\nDom, or you may be a Hadi of some other caste with whom I cannot\nmarry.\" He said, \"No. But from to-day, you and I are one.\" So they\nbegan lovingly to hold converse with each other. When the others\nreturned home in the evening, they saw that she was both a human being\nand a Bonga, and they rejoiced exceedingly.\n\nNow in course of time the Bonga girl's family became very poor, and\nher brothers on one occasion came to the chief's house on a visit.\n\nThe Bonga girl recognised them at once, but they did not know who she\nwas. She brought them water on their arrival, and afterwards set\ncooked rice before them. Then sitting down near them, she began in\nwailing tones to upbraid them on account of the treatment she had been\nsubjected to by their wives. She related all that had befallen her,\nand wound up by saying, \"You must have known it all, and yet you did\nnot interfere to save me.\" And that was all the revenge she took.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\nThe Cruel Crane Outwitted\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nLong ago the Bodisat was born to a forest life as the Genius of a tree\nstanding near a certain lotus pond.\n\nNow at that time the water used to run short at the dry season in a\ncertain pond, not over large, in which there were a good many fish.\nAnd a crane thought on seeing the fish:\n\n\"I must outwit these fish somehow or other and make a prey of them.\"\n\nAnd he went and sat down at the edge of the water, thinking how he\nshould do it.\n\nWhen the fish saw him, they asked him, \"What are you sitting there\nfor, lost in thought?\"\n\n\"I am sitting thinking about you,\" said he.\n\n\"Oh, sir! what are you thinking about us?\" said they.\n\n\"Why,\" he replied; \"there is very little water in this pond, and but\nlittle for you to eat; and the heat is so great! So I was thinking,\n'What in the world will these fish do now?'\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed, sir! what _are_ we to do?\" said they.\n\n\"If you will only do as I bid you, I will take you in my beak to a\nfine large pond, covered with all the kinds of lotuses, and put you\ninto it,\" answered the crane.\n\n\"That a crane should take thought for the fishes is a thing unheard\nof, sir, since the world began. It's eating us, one after the other,\nthat you're aiming at.\"\n\n\"Not I! So long as you trust me, I won't eat you. But if you don't\nbelieve me that there is such a pond, send one of you with me to go\nand see it.\"\n\nThen they trusted him, and handed over to him one of their number--a\nbig fellow, blind of one eye, whom they thought sharp enough in any\nemergency, afloat or ashore.\n\nHim the crane took with him, let him go in the pond, showed him the\nwhole of it, brought him back, and let him go again close to the other\nfish. And he told them all the glories of the pond.\n\nAnd when they heard what he said, they exclaimed, \"All right, sir! You\nmay take us with you.\"\n\nThen the crane took the old purblind fish first to the bank of the\nother pond, and alighted in a Varana-tree growing on the bank there.\nBut he threw it into a fork of the tree, struck it with his beak, and\nkilled it; and then ate its flesh, and threw its bones away at the\nfoot of the tree. Then he went back and called out:\n\n\"I've thrown that fish in; let another one come.\"\n\nAnd in that manner he took all the fish, one by one, and ate them,\ntill he came back and found no more!\n\nBut there was still a crab left behind there; and the crane thought he\nwould eat him too, and called out:\n\n\"I say, good crab, I've taken all the fish away, and put them into a\nfine large pond. Come along. I'll take you too!\"\n\n\"But how will you take hold of me to carry me along?\"\n\n\"I'll bite hold of you with my beak.\"\n\n\"You'll let me fall if you carry me like that. I won't go with you!\"\n\n\"Don't be afraid! I'll hold you quite tight all the way.\"\n\nThen said the crab to himself, \"If this fellow once got hold of fish,\nhe would never let them go in a pond! Now if he should really put me\ninto the pond, it would be capital; but if he doesn't--then I'll cut\nhis throat, and kill him!\" So he said to him:\n\n\"Look here, friend, you won't be able to hold me tight enough; but we\ncrabs have a famous grip. If you let me catch hold of you round the\nneck with my claws, I shall be glad to go with you.\"\n\nAnd the other did not see that he was trying to outwit him, and\nagreed. So the crab caught hold of his neck with his claws as securely\nas with a pair of blacksmith's pincers, and called out, \"Off with you,\nnow!\"\n\nAnd the crane took him and showed him the pond, and then turned off\ntowards the Varana-tree.\n\n\"Uncle!\" cried the crab, \"the pond lies that way, but you are taking\nme this way!\"\n\n\"Oh, that's it, is it?\" answered the crane. \"Your dear little uncle,\nyour very sweet nephew, you call me! You mean me to understand, I\nsuppose, that I am your slave, who has to lift you up and carry you\nabout with him! Now cast your eye upon the heap of fish-bones lying at\nthe root of yonder Varana-tree. Just as I have eaten those fish, every\none of them, just so I will devour you as well!\"\n\n\"Ah! those fishes got eaten through their own stupidity,\" answered the\ncrab; \"but I'm not going to let you eat _me_. On the contrary, is it\n_you_ that I am going to destroy. For you in your folly have not seen\nthat I was outwitting you. If we die, we die both together; for I will\ncut off this head of yours, and cast it to the ground!\" And so saying,\nhe gave the crane's neck a grip with his claws, as with a vice.\n\nThen gasping, and with tears trickling from his eyes, and trembling\nwith the fear of death, the crane beseeched him, saying, \"O my Lord!\nIndeed I did not intend to eat you. Grant me my life!\"\n\n\"Well, well! step down into the pond, and put me in there.\"\n\nAnd he turned round and stepped down into the pond, and placed the\ncrab on the mud at its edge. But the crab cut through its neck as\nclean as one would cut a lotus-stalk with a hunting-knife, and then\nonly entered the water!\n\nWhen the Genius who lived in the Varana-tree saw this strange affair,\nhe made the wood resound with his plaudits, uttering in a pleasant\nvoice the verse:\n\n    \"The villain, though exceeding clever,\n    Shall prosper not by his villainy.\n    He may win indeed, sharp-witted in deceit,\n    But only as the Crane here from the Crab!\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\nLoving Laili\n\n\nOnce there was a king called King Dantal, who had a great many rupees\nand soldiers and horses. He had also an only son called Prince Majnun,\nwho was a handsome boy with white teeth, red lips, blue eyes, red\ncheeks, red hair, and a white skin. This boy was very fond of playing\nwith the Wazir's son, Husain Mahamat, in King Dantal's garden, which\nwas very large and full of delicious fruits, and flowers, and trees.\nThey used to take their little knives there and cut the fruits and eat\nthem. King Dantal had a teacher for them to teach them to read and\nwrite.\n\nOne day, when they were grown two fine young men, Prince Majnun said\nto his father, \"Husain Mahamat and I should like to go and hunt.\" His\nfather said they might go, so they got ready their horses and all else\nthey wanted for their hunting, and went to the Phalana country,\nhunting all the way, but they only founds jackals and birds.\n\nThe Raja of the Phalana country was called Munsuk Raja, and he had a\ndaughter named Laili, who was very beautiful; she had brown eyes and\nblack hair.\n\nOne night, some time before Prince Majnun came to her father's\nkingdom, as she slept, Khuda sent to her an angel in the form of a man\nwho told her that she should marry Prince Majnun and no one else, and\nthat this was Khuda's command to her. When Laili woke she told her\nfather of the angel's visit to her as she slept; but her father paid\nno attention to her story. From that time she began repeating,\n\"Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun,\" and would say nothing else. Even as\nshe sat and ate her food she kept saying, \"Majnun, Majnun; I want\nMajnun.\" Her father used to get quite vexed with her. \"Who is this\nMajnun? who ever heard of this Majnun?\" he would say.\n\n\"He is the man I am to marry,\" said Laili. \"Khuda has ordered me to\nmarry no one but Majnun.\" And she was half mad.\n\nMeanwhile, Majnun and Husain Mahamat came to hunt in the Phalana\ncountry; and as they were riding about, Laili came out on her horse to\neat the air, and rode behind them. All the time she kept saying,\n\"Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun.\" The prince heard her, and turned\nround. \"Who is calling me?\" he asked. At this Laili looked at him, and\nthe moment she saw him she fell deeply in love with him, and she said\nto herself, \"I am sure that is the Prince Majnun that Khuda says I am\nto marry.\" And she went home to her father and said, \"Father, I wish\nto marry the prince who has come to your kingdom; for I know he is the\nPrince Majnun I am to marry.\"\n\n\"Very well, you shall have him for your husband,\" said Munsuk Raja.\n\"We will ask him to-morrow.\" Laili consented to wait, although she was\nvery impatient. As it happened, the prince left the Phalana kingdom\nthat night, and when Laili heard he was gone, she went quite mad. She\nwould not listen to a word her father, or her mother, or her servants\nsaid to her, but went off into the jungle, and wandered from jungle to\njungle, till she got farther and farther away from her own country.\nAll the time she kept saying, \"Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun;\" and so\nshe wandered about for twelve years.\n\nAt the end of the twelve years she met a fakir--he was really an\nangel, but she did not know this--who asked her, \"Why do you always\nsay, 'Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun'?\" She answered, \"I am the\ndaughter of the king of the Phalana country, and I want to find Prince\nMajnun; tell me where his kingdom is.\"\n\n\"I think you will never get there,\" said the fakir, \"for it is very\nfar from hence, and you have to cross many rivers to reach it.\" But\nLaili said she did not care; she must see Prince Majnun. \"Well,\" said\nthe fakir, \"when you come to the Bhagirathi river you will see a big\nfish, a Rohu; and you must get him to carry you to Prince Majnun's\ncountry, or you will never reach it.\"\n\nShe went on and on, and at last she came to the Bhagirathi river.\nThere was a great big fish called the Rohu fish. It was yawning just\nas she got up to it, and she instantly jumped down its throat into its\nstomach. All the time she kept saying, \"Majnun, Majnun.\" At this the\nRohu fish was greatly alarmed and swam down the river as fast as he\ncould. By degrees he got tired and went slower, and a crow came and\nperched on his back, and said \"Caw, caw.\" \"Oh, Mr. Crow,\" said the\npoor fish \"do see what is in my stomach that makes such a noise.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the crow, \"open your mouth wide, and I'll fly down\nand see.\" So the Rohu opened his jaws and the crow flew down, but he\ncame up again very quickly. \"You have a Rakshas in your stomach,\" said\nthe crow, and he flew away. This news did not comfort the poor Rohu,\nand he swam on and on till he came to Prince Majnun's country. There\nhe stopped. And a jackal came down to the river to drink. \"Oh,\njackal,\" said the Rohu, \"do tell me what I have inside me.\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\"How can I tell?\" said the jackal. \"I cannot see unless I go inside\nyou.\" So the Rohu opened his mouth wide, and the jackal jumped down\nhis throat; but he came up very quickly, looking much frightened and\nsaying, \"You have a Rakshas in your stomach, and if I don't run away\nquickly, I am afraid it will eat me.\" So off he ran. After the jackal\ncame an enormous snake. \"Oh,\" says the fish, \"do tell me what I have\nin my stomach, for it rattles about so, and keeps saying, 'Majnun,\nMajnun; I want Majnun.'\"\n\nThe snake said, \"Open your mouth wide, and I'll go down and see what\nit is.\" The snake went down: when he returned he said, \"You have a\nRakshas in your stomach, but if you will let me cut you open, it will\ncome out of you.\" \"If you do that, I shall die,\" said the Rohu. \"Oh,\nno,\" said the snake, \"you will not, for I will give you a medicine\nthat will make you quite well again.\" So the fish agreed, and the\nsnake got a knife and cut him open, and out jumped Laili.\n\nShe was now very old. Twelve years she had wandered about the jungle,\nand for twelve years she had lived inside her Rohu; and she was no\nlonger beautiful, and had lost her teeth. The snake took her on his\nback and carried her into the country, and there he put her down, and\nshe wandered on and on till she got to Majnun's court-house, where\nKing Majnun was sitting. There some men heard her crying, \"Majnun,\nMajnun; I want Majnun,\" and they asked her what she wanted. \"I want\nKing Majnun,\" she said.\n\nSo they went in and said to Prince Majnun, \"An old woman outside says\nshe wants you.\" \"I cannot leave this place,\" said he; \"send her in\nhere.\" They brought her in and the prince asked her what she wanted.\n\"I want to marry you,\" she answered. \"Twenty-four years ago you came\nto my father the Phalana Raja's country, and I wanted to marry you\nthen; but you went away without marrying me. Then I went mad, and I\nhave wandered about all these years looking for you.\" Prince Majnun\nsaid, \"Very good.\"\n\n\"Pray to Khuda,\" said Laili, \"to make us both young again, and then we\nshall be married.\" So the prince prayed to Khuda, and Khuda said to\nhim, \"Touch Laili's clothes and they will catch fire, and when they\nare on fire, she and you will become young again.\" When he touched\nLaili's clothes they caught fire, and she and he became young again.\nAnd there were great feasts, and they were married, and travelled to\nthe Phalana country to see her father and mother.\n\nNow Laili's father and mother had wept so much for their daughter that\nthey had become quite blind, and her father kept always repeating,\n\"Laili, Laili, Laili.\" When Laili saw their blindness, she prayed to\nKhuda to restore their sight to them, which he did. As soon as the\nfather and mother saw Laili, they hugged her and kissed her, and then\nthey had the wedding all over again amid great rejoicings. Prince\nMajnun and Laili stayed with Munsuk Raja and his wife for three years,\nand then they returned to King Dantal, and lived happily for some time\nwith him.\n\nThey used to go out hunting, and they often went from country to\ncountry to eat the air and amuse themselves.\n\nOne day Prince Majnun said to Laili, \"Let us go through this jungle.\"\n\"No, no,\" said Laili; \"if we go through this jungle, some harm will\nhappen to me.\" But Prince Majnun laughed, and went into the jungle.\nAnd as they were going through it, Khuda thought, \"I should like to\nknow how much Prince Majnun loves his wife. Would he be very sorry if\nshe died? And would he marry another wife? I will see.\" So he sent one\nof his angels in the form of a fakir into the jungle; and the angel\nwent up to Laili, and threw some powder in her face, and instantly she\nfell to the ground a heap of ashes.\n\nPrince Majnun was in great sorrow and grief when he saw his dear Laili\nturned into a little heap of ashes; and he went straight home to his\nfather, and for a long, long time he would not be comforted. After a\ngreat many years he grew more cheerful and happy, and began to go\nagain into his father's beautiful garden with Husain Mahamat. King\nDantal wished his son to marry again. \"I will only have Laili for my\nwife; I will not marry any other woman,\" said Prince Majnun.\n\n\"How can you marry Laili? Laili is dead. She will never come back to\nyou,\" said the father.\n\n\"Then I'll not have any wife at all,\" said Prince Majnun.\n\nMeanwhile Laili was living in the jungle where her husband had left\nher a little heap of ashes. As soon as Majnun had gone, the fakir had\ntaken her ashes and made them quite clean, and then he had mixed clay\nand water with the ashes, and made the figure of a woman with them,\nand so Laili regained her human form, and Khuda sent life into it. But\nLaili had become once more a hideous old woman, with a long, long\nnose, and teeth like tusks; just such an old woman, excepting her\nteeth, as she had been when she came out of the Rohu fish; and she\nlived in the jungle, and neither ate nor drank, and she kept on\nsaying, \"Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun.\"\n\nAt last the angel who had come as a fakir and thrown the powder at\nher, said to Khuda, \"Of what use is it that this woman should sit in\nthe jungle crying, crying for ever, 'Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun,'\nand eating and drinking nothing? Let me take her to Prince Majnun.\"\n\"Well,\" said Khuda, \"you may do so; but tell her that she must not\nspeak to Majnun if he is afraid of her when he sees her; and that if\nhe is afraid when he sees her, she will become a little white dog the\nnext day. Then she must go to the palace, and she will only regain her\nhuman shape when Prince Majnun loves her, feeds her with his own food,\nand lets her sleep in his bed.\"\n\nSo the angel came to Laili again as a fakir and carried her to King\nDantal's garden. \"Now,\" he said, \"it is Khuda's command that you stay\nhere till Prince Majnun comes to walk in the garden, and then you may\nshow yourself to him. But you must not speak to him, if he is afraid\nof you; and should he be afraid of you, you will the next day become a\nlittle white dog.\" He then told her what she must do as a little dog\nto regain her human form.\n\nLaili stayed in the garden, hidden in the tall grass, till Prince\nMajnun and Husain Mahamat came to walk in the garden. King Dantal was\nnow a very old man, and Husain Mahamat, though he was really only as\nold as Prince Majnun, looked a great deal older than the prince, who\nhad been made quite young again when he married Laili.\n\nAs Prince Majnun and the Wazir's son walked in the garden, they\ngathered the fruit as they had done as little children, only they bit\nthe fruit with their teeth; they did not cut it. While Majnun was busy\neating a fruit in this way, and was talking to Husain Mahamat, he\nturned towards him and saw Laili walking behind the Wazir's son. \"Oh,\nlook, look!\" he cried, \"see what is following you; it is a Rakshas or\na demon, and I am sure it is going to eat us.\" Laili looked at him\nbeseechingly with all her eyes, and trembled with age and eagerness;\nbut this only frightened Majnun the more. \"It is a Rakshas, a\nRakshas!\" he cried, and he ran quickly to the palace with the Wazir's\nson; and as they ran away, Laili disappeared into the jungle. They ran\nto King Dantal, and Majnun told him there was a Rakshas or a demon in\nthe garden that had come to eat them.\n\n\"What nonsense,\" said his father. \"Fancy two grown men being so\nfrightened by an old ayah or a fakir! And if it had been a Rakshas, it\nwould not have eaten you.\" Indeed King Dantal did not believe Majnun\nhad seen anything at all, till Husain Mahamat said the prince was\nspeaking the exact truth. They had the garden searched for the\nterrible old woman, but found nothing, and King Dantal told his son he\nwas very silly to be so much frightened. However, Prince Majnun would\nnot walk in the garden any more.\n\nThe next day Laili turned into a pretty little dog; and in this shape\nshe came into the palace, where Prince Majnun soon became very fond of\nher. She followed him everywhere, went with him when he was out\nhunting, and helped him to catch his game, and Prince Majnun fed her\nwith milk, or bread, or anything else he was eating, and at night the\nlittle dog slept in his bed.\n\nBut one night the little dog disappeared, and in its stead there lay\nthe little old woman who had frightened him so much in the garden; and\nnow Prince Majnun was quite sure she was a Rakshas, or a demon, or\nsome such horrible thing come to eat him; and in his terror he cried\nout, \"What do you want? Oh, do not eat me; do not eat me!\" Poor Laili\nanswered, \"Don't you know me? I am your wife Laili, and I want to\nmarry you. Don't you remember how you would go through that jungle,\nthough I begged and begged you not to go, for I told you that harm\nwould happen to me, and then a fakir came and threw powder in my face,\nand I became a heap of ashes. But Khuda gave me my life again, and\nbrought me here, after I had stayed a long, long while in the jungle\ncrying for you, and now I am obliged to be a little dog; but if you\nwill marry me, I shall not be a little dog any more.\" Majnun, however,\nsaid \"How can I marry an old woman like you? how can you be Laili? I\nam sure you are a Rakshas or a demon come to eat me,\" and he was in\ngreat terror.\n\nIn the morning the old woman had turned into the little dog, and the\nprince went to his father and told him all that had happened. \"An old\nwoman! an old woman! always an old woman!\" said his father. \"You do\nnothing but think of old women. How can a strong man like you be so\neasily frightened?\" However, when he saw that his son was really in\ngreat terror, and that he really believed the old woman would came\nback at night, he advised him to say to her, \"I will marry you if you\ncan make yourself a young girl again. How can I marry such an old\nwoman as you are?\"\n\nThat night as he lay trembling in bed the little old woman lay there\nin place of the dog, crying \"Majnun, Majnun, I want to marry you. I\nhave loved you all these long, long years. When I was in my father's\nkingdom a young girl, I knew of you, though you knew nothing of me,\nand we should have been married then if you had not gone away so\nsuddenly, and for long, long years I followed you.\" \"Well,\" said\nMajnun, \"if you can make yourself a young girl again, I will marry\nyou.\"\n\nLaili said, \"Oh, that is quite easy. Khuda will make me a young girl\nagain. In two days' time you must go into the garden, and there you\nwill see a beautiful fruit. You must gather it and bring it into your\nroom and cut it open yourself very gently, and you must not open it\nwhen your father or anybody else is with you, but when you are quite\nalone; for I shall be in the fruit quite naked, without any clothes at\nall on.\" In the morning Laili took her little dog's form, and\ndisappeared in the garden.\n\nPrince Majnun told all this to his father, who told him to do all the\nold woman had bidden him. In two days' time he and the Wazir's son\nwalked in the garden, and there they saw a large, lovely red fruit.\n\"Oh!\" said the Prince, \"I wonder shall I find my wife in that fruit.\"\nHusain Mahamat wanted him to gather it and see, but he would not till\nhe had told his father, who said, \"That must be the fruit; go and\ngather it.\" So Majnun went back and broke the fruit off its stalk; and\nhe said to his father, \"Come with me to my room while I open it; I am\nafraid to open it alone, for perhaps I shall find a Rakshas in it that\nwill eat me.\"\n\n\"No,\" said King Dantal; \"remember, Laili will be naked; you must go\nalone and do not be afraid if, after all, a Rakshas is in the fruit,\nfor I will stay outside the door, and you have only to call me with a\nloud voice, and I will come to you, so the Rakshas will not be able to\neat you.\"\n\nThen Majnun took the fruit and began to cut it open tremblingly, for\nhe shook with fear; and when he had cut it, out stepped Laili, young\nand far more beautiful than she had ever been. At the sight of her\nextreme beauty, Majnun fell backwards fainting on the floor.\n\nLaili took off his turban and wound it all round herself like a sari\n(for she had no clothes at all on), and then she called King Dantal,\nand said to him sadly, \"Why has Majnun fallen down like this? Why will\nhe not speak to me? He never used to be afraid of me; and he has seen\nme so many, many times.\"\n\nKing Dantal answered, \"It is because you are so beautiful. You are\nfar, far more beautiful than you ever were. But he will be very happy\ndirectly.\" Then the King got some water, and they bathed Majnun's face\nand gave him some to drink, and he sat up again.\n\nThen Laili said, \"Why did you faint? Did you not see I am Laili?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Prince Majnun, \"I see you are Laili come back to me, but\nyour eyes have grown so wonderfully beautiful, that I fainted when I\nsaw them.\" Then they were all very happy, and King Dantal had all the\ndrums in the place beaten, and had all the musical instruments played\non, and they made a grand wedding-feast, and gave presents to the\nservants, and rice and quantities of rupees to the fakirs.\n\nAfter some time had passed very happily, Prince Majnun and his wife\nwent out to eat the air. They rode on the same horse, and had only a\ngroom with them. They came to another kingdom, to a beautiful garden.\n\"We must go into that garden and see it,\" said Majnun.\n\n\"No, no,\" said Laili; \"it belongs to a bad Raja, Chumman Basa, a very\nwicked man.\" But Majnun insisted on going in, and in spite of all\nLaili could say, he got off the horse to look at the flowers. Now, as\nhe was looking at the flowers, Laili saw Chumman Basa coming towards\nthem, and she read in his eyes that he meant to kill her husband and\nseize her. So she said to Majnun, \"Come, come, let us go; do not go\nnear that bad man. I see in his eyes, and I feel in my heart, that he\nwill kill you to seize me.\"\n\n\"What nonsense,\" said Majnun. \"I believe he is a very good Raja.\nAnyhow, I am so near to him that I could not get away.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Laili, \"it is better that you should be killed than I,\nfor if I were to be killed a second time, Khuda would not give me my\nlife again; but I can bring you to life if you are killed.\" Now\nChumman Basa had come quite near, and seemed very pleasant, so thought\nPrince Majnun; but when he was speaking to Majnun, he drew his\nscimitar and cut off the prince's head at one blow.\n\nLaili sat quite still on her horse, and as the Raja came towards her\nshe said, \"Why did you kill my husband?\"\n\n\"Because I want to take you,\" he answered.\n\n\"You cannot,\" said Laili.\n\n\"Yes, I can,\" said the Raja.\n\n\"Take me, then,\" said Laili to Chumman Basa; so he came quite close\nand put out his hand to take hers to lift her off her horse. But she\nput her hand in her pocket and pulled out a tiny knife, only as long\nas her hand was broad, and this knife unfolded itself in one instant\ntill it was such a length! and then Laili made a great sweep with her\narm and her long, long knife, and off came Chumman Basa's head at one\ntouch.\n\nThen Laili slipped down off her horse, and she went to Majnun's dead\nbody, and she cut her little finger inside her hand straight down from\nthe top of her nail to her palm, and out of this gushed blood like\nhealing medicine. Then she put Majnun's head on his shoulders, and\nsmeared her healing blood all over the wound, and Majnun woke up and\nsaid, \"What a delightful sleep I have had! Why, I feel as if I had\nslept for years!\" Then he got up and saw the Raja's dead body by\nLaili's horse.\n\n\"What's that?\" said Majnun.\n\n\"That is the wicked Raja who killed you to seize me, just as I said he\nwould.\"\n\n\"Who killed him?\" asked Majnun.\n\n\"I did,\" answered Laili, \"and it was I who brought you to life.\"\n\n\"Do bring the poor man to life if you know how to do so,\" said Majnun.\n\n\"No,\" said Laili, \"for he is a wicked man, and will try to do you\nharm.\" But Majnun asked her for such a long time, and so earnestly to\nbring the wicked Raja to life, that at least she said, \"Jump up on the\nhorse, then, and go far away with the groom.\"\n\n\"What will you do,\" said Majnun, \"if I leave you? I cannot leave you.\"\n\n\"I will take care of myself,\" said Laili; \"but this man is so wicked,\nhe may kill you again if you are near him.\" So Majnun got up on the\nhorse, and he and the groom went a long way off and waited for Laili.\nThen she set the wicked Raja's head straight on his shoulders, and\nshe squeezed the wound in her finger till a little blood-medicine\ncame out of it. Then she smeared this over the place where her knife\nhad passed, and just as she saw the Raja opening his eyes, she began\nto run, and she ran, and ran so fast, that she outran the Raja, who\ntried to catch her; and she sprang up on the horse behind her husband,\nand they rode so fast, so fast, till they reached King Dantal's\npalace.\n\n[Illustration: How Loving Laili became young again]\n\nThere Prince Majnun told everything to his father, who was horrified\nand angry. \"How lucky for you that you have such a wife,\" he said.\n\"Why did you not do what she told you? But for her, you would be now\ndead.\" Then he made a great feast out of gratitude for his son's\nsafety, and gave many, many rupees to the fakirs. And he made so much\nof Laili. He loved her dearly; he could not do enough for her. Then he\nbuilt a splendid palace for her and his son, with a great deal of\nground about it, and lovely gardens, and gave them great wealth, and\nheaps of servants to wait on them. But he would not allow any but\ntheir servants to enter their gardens and palace, and he would not\nallow Majnun to go out of them, nor Laili; \"for,\" said King Dantal,\n\"Laili is so beautiful, that perhaps some one may kill my son to take\nher away.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Tiger, the Brahman, and the Jackal\n\n[Illustration:]\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 Brahman came by. \"Let me out of this cage, oh pious\none!\" cried the tiger.\n\n\"Nay, my friend,\" replied the Brahman 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\nBrahman'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 Brahman 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 Brahman first asked a _pipal_ tree what it thought of the\nmatter, but the _pipal_ tree replied coldly, \"What have you to\ncomplain about? Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who passes\nby, and don't they in return tear down my branches to feed their\ncattle? Don't whimper--be a man!\"\n\nThen the Brahman, sad at heart, went further 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! Whilst 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\nThe Brahman, 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 Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a\njackal, who called out, \"Why, what's the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look\nas miserable as a fish out of water!\"\n\nThe Brahman told him all that had occurred. \"How very confusing!\" said\nthe jackal, when the recital was ended; \"would you mind telling me\nover again, for everything has got so mixed up?\"\n\nThe Brahman 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\nBrahman, 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 Brahman, as his knees knocked\ntogether with fright; \"what a remarkably delicate way of putting 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 Brahman 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 its\npaws. \"Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the\ntiger came walking by----\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" interrupted the tiger, \"what a fool you are! _I_ was in the\ncage.\"\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 wits?\nLet me see--the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking\nby----no, that's not it, either! Well, don't mind me, but begin your\ndinner, 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 tiger----\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord!\"\n\n\"And that is the Brahman----\"\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 Soothsayer's Son\n\n\nA soothsayer when on his deathbed wrote out the horoscope of his\nsecond son, whose name was Gangazara, and bequeathed it to him as his\nonly property, leaving the whole of his estate to his eldest son. The\nsecond son thought over the horoscope, and said to himself:\n\n\"Alas! am I born to this only in the world? The sayings of my father\nnever failed. I have seen them prove true to the last word while he\nwas living; and how has he fixed my horoscope! 'FROM MY BIRTH\nPOVERTY!' Nor is that my only fate. 'FOR TEN YEARS, IMPRISONMENT'--a\nfate harder than poverty; and what comes next? 'DEATH ON THE\nSEA-SHORE'; which means that I must die away from home, far from\nfriends and relatives on a sea-coast. Now comes the most curious part\nof the horoscope, that I am to 'HAVE SOME HAPPINESS AFTERWARDS!' What\nthis happiness is, is an enigma to me.\"\n\nThus thought he, and after all the funeral obsequies of his father\nwere over, took leave of his elder brother, and started for Benares.\nHe went by the middle of the Deccan, avoiding both the coasts, and\nwent on journeying and journeying for weeks and months, till at last\nhe reached the Vindhya mountains. While passing that desert he had to\njourney for a couple of days through a sandy plain, with no signs of\nlife or vegetation. The little store of provision with which he was\nprovided for a couple of days, at last was exhausted. The chombu,\nwhich he carried always full, filling it with the sweet water from the\nflowing rivulet or plenteous tank, he had exhausted in the heat of the\ndesert. There was not a morsel in his hand to eat; nor a drop of water\nto drink. Turn his eyes wherever he might he found a vast desert, out\nof which he saw no means of escape. Still he thought within himself,\n\"Surely my father's prophecy never proved untrue. I must survive this\ncalamity to find my death on some sea-coast.\" So thought he, and this\nthought gave him strength of mind to walk fast and try to find a drop\nof water somewhere to slake his dry throat.\n\nAt last he succeeded; heaven threw in his way a ruined well. He\nthought he could collect some water if he let down his chombu with the\nstring that he always carried noosed to the neck of it. Accordingly he\nlet it down; it went some way and stopped, and the following words\ncame from the well: \"Oh, relieve me! I am the king of tigers, dying\nhere of hunger. For the last three days I have had nothing. Fortune\nhas sent you here. If you assist me now you will find a sure help in\nme throughout your life. Do not think that I am a beast of prey. When\nyou have become my deliverer I will never touch you. Pray, kindly lift\nme up.\" Gangazara thought: \"Shall I take him out or not? If I take him\nout he may make me the first morsel of his hungry mouth. No; that he\nwill not do. For my father's prophecy never came untrue. I must die on\na sea coast, and not by a tiger.\" Thus thinking, he asked the\ntiger-king to hold tight to the vessel, which he accordingly did, and\nhe lifted him up slowly. The tiger reached the top of the well and\nfelt himself on safe ground. True to his word, he did no harm to\nGangazara. On the other hand, he walked round his patron three times,\nand standing before him, humbly spoke the following words: \"My\nlife-giver, my benefactor! I shall never forget this day, when I\nregained my life through your kind hands. In return for this kind\nassistance I pledge my oath to stand by you in all calamities.\nWhenever you are in any difficulty just think of me. I am there with\nyou ready to oblige you by all the means that I can. To tell you\nbriefly how I came in here: Three days ago I was roaming in yonder\nforest, when I saw a goldsmith passing through it. I chased him. He,\nfinding it impossible to escape my claws, jumped into this well, and\nis living to this moment in the very bottom of it. I also jumped in,\nbut found myself on the first ledge of the well; he is on the last and\nfourth ledge. In the second lives a serpent half-famished with hunger.\nOn the third lies a rat, also half-famished, and when you again begin\nto draw water these may request you first to release them. In the same\nway the goldsmith also may ask you. I beg you, as your bosom friend,\nnever assist that wretched man, though he is your relation as a human\nbeing. Goldsmiths are never to be trusted. You can place more faith in\nme, a tiger, though I feast sometimes upon men, in a serpent, whose\nsting makes your blood cold the very next moment, or in a rat, which\ndoes a thousand pieces of mischief in your house. But never trust a\ngoldsmith. Do not release him; and if you do, you shall surely repent\nof it one day or other.\" Thus advising, the hungry tiger went away\nwithout waiting for an answer.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nGangazara thought several times of the eloquent way in which the tiger\nspoke, and admired his fluency of speech. But still his thirst was not\nquenched. So he let down his vessel again, which was now caught hold\nof by the serpent, who addressed him thus: \"Oh, my protector! Lift me\nup. I am the king of serpents, and the son of Adisesha, who is now\npining away in agony for my disappearance. Release me now. I shall\never remain your servant, remember your assistance, and help you\nthroughout life in all possible ways. Oblige me: I am dying.\"\nGangazara, calling again to mind the \"DEATH ON THE SEA-SHORE\" of the\nprophecy lifted him up. He, like the tiger-king, walked round him\nthrice, and prostrating himself before him spoke thus: \"Oh, my\nlife-giver, my father, for so I must call you, as you have given me\nanother birth. I was three days ago basking myself in the morning sun,\nwhen I saw a rat running before me. I chased him. He fell into this\nwell. I followed him, but instead of falling on the third storey where\nhe is now lying, I fell into the second. I am going away now to see my\nfather. Whenever you are in any difficulty just think of me. I will be\nthere by your side to assist you by all possible means.\" So saying,\nthe Nagaraja glided away in zigzag movements, and was out of sight in\na moment.\n\nThe poor son of the Soothsayer, who was now almost dying of thirst,\nlet down his vessel for a third time. The rat caught hold of it, and\nwithout discussing he lifted up the poor animal at once. But it would\nnot go away without showing its gratitude: \"Oh, life of my life! My\nbenefactor! I am the king of rats. Whenever you are in any calamity\njust think of me. I will come to you, and assist you. My keen ears\noverheard all that the tiger-king told you about the goldsmith, who is\nin the fourth storey. It is nothing but a sad truth that goldsmiths\nought never to be trusted. Therefore, never assist him as you have\ndone to us all. And if you do, you will suffer for it. I am hungry;\nlet me go for the present.\" Thus taking leave of his benefactor, the\nrat, too, ran away.\n\nGangazara for a while thought upon the repeated advice given by the\nthree animals about releasing the goldsmith: \"What wrong would there\nbe in my assisting him? Why should I not release him also?\" So\nthinking to himself, Gangazara let down the vessel again. The\ngoldsmith caught hold of it, and demanded help. The Soothsayer's son\nhad no time to lose; he was himself dying of thirst. Therefore he\nlifted the goldsmith up, who now began his story. \"Stop for a while,\"\nsaid Gangazara, and after quenching his thirst by letting down his\nvessel for the fifth time, still fearing that some one might remain in\nthe well and demand his assistance, he listened to the goldsmith, who\nbegan as follows: \"My dear friend, my protector, what a deal of\nnonsense these brutes have been talking to you about me; I am glad you\nhave not followed their advice. I am just now dying of hunger. Permit\nme to go away. My name is Manikkasari. I live in the East main street\nof Ujjaini, which is twenty kas to the south of this place, and so\nlies on your way when you return from Benares. Do not forget to come\nto me and receive my kind remembrances of your assistance, on your way\nback to your country.\" So saying, the goldsmith took his leave, and\nGangazara also pursued his way north after the above adventures.\n\nHe reached Benares, and lived there for more than ten years, and quite\nforgot the tiger, serpent, rat, and goldsmith. After ten years of\nreligious life, thoughts of home and of his brother rushed into his\nmind. \"I have secured enough merit now by my religious observances.\nLet me return home.\" Thus thought Gangazara within himself, and very\nsoon he was on his way back to his country. Remembering the prophecy\nof his father he returned by the same way by which he went to Benares\nten years before. While thus retracing his steps he reached the ruined\nwell where he had released the three brute kings and the goldsmith. At\nonce the old recollections rushed into his mind, and he thought of the\ntiger to test his fidelity. Only a moment passed, and the tiger-king\ncame running before him carrying a large crown in his mouth, the\nglitter of the diamonds of which for a time outshone even the bright\nrays of the sun. He dropped the crown at his life-giver's feet, and,\nputting aside all his pride, humbled himself like a pet cat to the\nstrokes of his protector, and began in the following words: \"My\nlife-giver! How is it that you have forgotten me, your poor servant,\nfor such a long time? I am glad to find that I still occupy a corner\nin your mind. I can never forget the day when I owed my life to your\nlotus hands. I have several jewels with me of little value. This\ncrown, being the best of all, I have brought here as a single ornament\nof great value, which you can carry with you and dispose of in your\nown country.\" Gangazara looked at the crown, examined it over and\nover, counted and recounted the gems, and thought within himself that\nhe would become the richest of men by separating the diamonds and\ngold, and selling them in his own country. He took leave of the\ntiger-king, and after his disappearance thought of the kings of\nserpents and rats, who came in their turn with their presents, and\nafter the usual greetings and exchange of words took their leave.\nGangazara was extremely delighted at the faithfulness with which the\nbrute beasts behaved, and went on his way to the south. While going\nalong he spoke to himself thus: \"These beasts have been very faithful\nin their assistance. Much more, therefore, must Manikkasari be\nfaithful. I do not want anything from him now. If I take this crown\nwith me as it is, it occupies much space in my bundle. It may also\nexcite the curiosity of some robbers on the way. I will go now to\nUjjaini on my way. Manikkasari requested me to see him without failure\non my return journey. I shall do so, and request him to have the crown\nmelted, the diamonds and gold separated. He must do that kindness at\nleast for me. I shall then roll up these diamonds and gold ball in my\nrags, and wend my way homewards.\" Thus thinking and thinking, he\nreached Ujjaini. At once he inquired for the house of his goldsmith\nfriend, and found him without difficulty. Manikkasari was extremely\ndelighted to find on his threshold him who ten years before,\nnotwithstanding the advice repeatedly given him by the sage-looking\ntiger, serpent, and rat, had relieved him from the pit of death.\nGangazara at once showed him the crown that he received from the\ntiger-king, told him how he got it, and requested his kind assistance\nto separate the gold and diamonds. Manikkasari agreed to do so, and\nmeanwhile asked his friend to rest himself for a while to have his\nbath and meals; and Gangazara, who was very observant of his religious\nceremonies, went direct to the river to bathe.\n\nHow came the crown in the jaws of the tiger? The king of Ujjaini had a\nweek before gone with all his hunters on a hunting expedition. All of\na sudden the tiger-king started from the wood, seized the king, and\nvanished.\n\nWhen the king's attendants informed the prince about the death of his\nfather he wept and wailed, and gave notice that he would give half of\nhis kingdom to any one who should bring him news about the murderer of\nhis father. The goldsmith knew full well that it was a tiger that\nkilled the king, and not any hunter's hands, since he had heard from\nGangazara how he obtained the crown. Still, he resolved to denounce\nGangazara as the king's murderer, so, hiding the crown under his\ngarments, he flew to the palace. He went before the prince and\ninformed him that the assassin was caught, and placed the crown before\nhim. The prince took it into his hands, examined it, and at once gave\nhalf the kingdom to Manikkasari, and then inquired about the murderer.\n\"He is bathing in the river, and is of such and such appearance,\" was\nthe reply. At once four armed soldiers flew to the river, and bound\nthe poor Brahman hand and foot, while he, sitting in meditation, was\nwithout any knowledge of the fate that hung over him. They brought\nGangazara to the presence of the prince, who turned his face away from\nthe supposed murderer, and asked his soldiers to throw him into a\ndungeon. In a minute, without knowing the cause, the poor Brahman\nfound himself in the dark dungeon.\n\nIt was a dark cellar underground, built with strong stone walls, into\nwhich any criminal guilty of a capital offence was ushered to breathe\nhis last there without food and drink. Such was the cellar into which\nGangazara was thrust. What were his thoughts when he reached that\nplace? \"It is of no use to accuse either the goldsmith or the prince\nnow. We are all the children of fate. We must obey her commands. This\nis but the first day of my father's prophecy. So far his statement is\ntrue. But how am I going to pass ten years here? Perhaps without\nanything to sustain life I may drag on my existence for a day or two.\nBut how pass ten years? That cannot be, and I must die. Before death\ncomes let me think of my faithful brute friends.\"\n\nSo pondered Gangazara in the dark cell underground, and at that moment\nthought of his three friends. The tiger-king, serpent-king, and\nrat-king assembled at once with their armies at a garden near the\ndungeon, and for a while did not know what to do. They held their\ncouncil, and decided to make an underground passage from the inside\nof a ruined well to the dungeon. The rat raja issued an order at once\nto that effect to his army. They, with their teeth, bored the ground a\nlong way to the walls of the prison. After reaching it they found that\ntheir teeth could not work on the hard stones. The bandicoots were\nthen specially ordered for the business; they, with their hard teeth,\nmade a small slit in the wall for a rat to pass and repass without\ndifficulty. Thus a passage was effected.\n\nThe rat raja entered first to condole with his protector on his\nmisfortune, and undertook to supply his protector with provisions.\n\"Whatever sweetmeats or bread are prepared in any house, one and all\nof you must try to bring whatever you can to our benefactor. Whatever\nclothes you find hanging in a house, cut down, dip the pieces in\nwater, and bring the wet bits to our benefactor. He will squeeze them\nand gather water for drink! and the bread and sweetmeats shall form\nhis food.\" Having issued these orders, the king of the rats took leave\nof Gangazara. They, in obedience to their king's order, continued to\nsupply him with provisions and water.\n\nThe snake-king said: \"I sincerely condole with you in your calamity;\nthe tiger-king also fully sympathises with you, and wants me to tell\nyou so, as he cannot drag his huge body here as we have done with our\nsmall ones. The king of the rats has promised to do his best to\nprovide you with food. We would now do what we can for your release.\nFrom this day we shall issue orders to our armies to oppress all the\nsubjects of this kingdom. The deaths by snake-bite and tigers shall\nincrease a hundredfold from this day, and day by day it shall continue\nto increase till your release. Whenever you hear people near you, you\nhad better bawl out so as to be heard by them: 'The wretched prince\nimprisoned me on the false charge of having killed his father, while\nit was a tiger that killed him. From that day these calamities have\nbroken out in his dominions. If I were released I would save all by my\npowers of healing poisonous wounds and by incantations.' Some one may\nreport this to the king, and if he knows it, you will obtain your\nliberty.\" Thus comforting his protector in trouble, he advised him to\npluck up courage, and took leave of him. From that day tigers and\nserpents, acting under the orders of their kings, united in killing as\nmany persons and cattle as possible. Every day people were carried\naway by tigers or bitten by serpents. Thus passed months and years.\nGangazara sat in the dark cellar, without the sun's light falling upon\nhim, and feasted upon the breadcrumbs and sweetmeats that the rats so\nkindly supplied him with. These delicacies had completely changed his\nbody into a red, stout, huge, unwieldy mass of flesh. Thus passed full\nten years, as prophesied in the horoscope.\n\nTen complete years rolled away in close imprisonment. On the last\nevening of the tenth year one of the serpents got into the bed-chamber\nof the princess and sucked her life. She breathed her last. She was\nthe only daughter of the king. The king at once sent for all the\nsnake-bite curers. He promised half his kingdom and his daughter's\nhand to him who would restore her to life. Now a servant of the king\nwho had several times overheard Gangazara's cries, reported the matter\nto him. The king at once ordered the cell to be examined. There was\nthe man sitting in it. How had he managed to live so long in the cell?\nSome whispered that he must be a divine being. Thus they discussed,\nwhile they brought Gangazara to the king.\n\nThe king no sooner saw Gangazara than he fell on the ground. He was\nstruck by the majesty and grandeur of his person. His ten years'\nimprisonment in the deep cell underground had given a sort of lustre\nto his body. His hair had first to be cut before his face could be\nseen. The king begged forgiveness for his former fault, and requested\nhim to revive his daughter.\n\n\"Bring me within an hour all the corpses of men and cattle, dying and\ndead, that remain unburnt or unburied within the range of your\ndominions; I shall revive them all,\" were the only words that\nGangazara spoke.\n\nCartloads of corpses of men and cattle began to come in every minute.\nEven graves, it is said, were broken open, and corpses buried a day or\ntwo before were taken out and sent for their revival. As soon as all\nwere ready, Gangazara took a vessel full of water and sprinkled it\nover them all, thinking only of his snake-king and tiger-king. All\nrose up as if from deep slumber, and went to their respective homes.\nThe princess, too, was restored to life. The joy of the king knew no\nbounds. He cursed the day on which he imprisoned him, blamed himself\nfor having believed the word of a goldsmith, and offered him the hand\nof his daughter and the whole kingdom, instead of half, as he\npromised. Gangazara would not accept anything, but asked the king to\nassemble all his subjects in a wood near the town. \"I shall there call\nin all the tigers and serpents, and give them a general order.\"\n\nWhen the whole town was assembled, just at the dusk of evening,\nGangazara sat dumb for a moment, and thought upon the Tiger King and\nthe Serpent King, who came with all their armies. People began to take\nto their heels at the sight of tigers. Gangazara assured them of\nsafety, and stopped them.\n\nThe grey light of the evening, the pumpkin colour of Gangazara, the\nholy ashes scattered lavishly over his body, the tigers and snakes\nhumbling themselves at his feet, gave him the true majesty of the god\nGangazara. For who else by a single word could thus command vast\narmies of tigers and serpents, said some among the people. \"Care not\nfor it; it may be by magic. That is not a great thing. That he revived\ncartloads of corpses shows him to be surely Gangazara,\" said others.\n\n\"Why should you, my children, thus trouble these poor subjects of\nUjjaini? Reply to me, and henceforth desist from your ravages.\" Thus\nsaid the Soothsayer's son, and the following reply came from the king\nof the tigers: \"Why should this base king imprison your honour,\nbelieving the mere word of a goldsmith that your honour killed his\nfather? All the hunters told him that his father was carried away by a\ntiger. I was the messenger of death sent to deal the blow on his neck.\nI did it, and gave the crown to your honour. The prince makes no\ninquiry, and at once imprisons your honour. How can we expect justice\nfrom such a stupid king as that? Unless he adopt a better standard of\njustice we will go on with our destruction.\"\n\nThe king heard, cursed the day on which he believed in the word of a\ngoldsmith, beat his head, tore his hair, wept and wailed for his\ncrime, asked a thousand pardons, and swore to rule in a just way from\nthat day. The serpent-king and tiger-king also promised to observe\ntheir oath as long as justice prevailed, and took their leave. The\ngoldsmith fled for his life. He was caught by the soldiers of the\nking, and was pardoned by the generous Gangazara, whose voice now\nreigned supreme. All returned to their homes.\n\nThe king again pressed Gangazara to accept the hand of his daughter.\nHe agreed to do so, not then, but some time afterwards. He wished to\ngo and see his elder brother first, and then to return and marry the\nprincess. The king agreed; and Gangazara left the city that very day\non his way home.\n\nIt so happened that unwittingly he took a wrong road, and had to pass\nnear a sea-coast. His elder brother was also on his way up to Benares\nby that very same route. They met and recognised each other, even at a\ndistance. They flew into each other's arms. Both remained still for a\ntime almost unconscious with joy. The pleasure of Gangazara was so\ngreat that he died of joy.\n\nThe elder brother was a devout worshipper of Ganesa. That was a\nFriday, a day very sacred to that god. The elder brother took the\ncorpse to the nearest Ganesa temple and called upon him. The god came,\nand asked him what he wanted. \"My poor brother is dead and gone; and\nthis is his corpse. Kindly keep it in your charge till I finish\nworshipping you. If I leave it anywhere else the devils may snatch it\naway when I am absent worshipping you; after finishing the rites I\nshall burn him.\" Thus said the elder brother, and, giving the corpse\nto the god Ganesa, he went to prepare himself for that deity's\nceremonials. Ganesa made over the corpse to his Ganas, asking them to\nwatch over it carefully. But instead of that they devoured it.\n\nThe elder brother, after finishing the puja, demanded his brother's\ncorpse of the god. The god called his Ganas, who came to the front\nblinking, and fearing the anger of their master. The god was greatly\nenraged. The elder brother was very angry. When the corpse was not\nforthcoming he cuttingly remarked, \"Is this, after all, the return for\nmy deep belief in you? You are unable even to return my brother's\ncorpse.\" Ganesa was much ashamed at the remark. So he, by his divine\npower, gave him a living Gangazara instead of the dead corpse. Thus\nwas the second son of the Soothsayer restored to life.\n\nThe brothers had a long talk about each other's adventures. They both\nwent to Ujjaini, where Gangazara married the princess, and succeeded\nto the throne of that kingdom. He reigned for a long time, conferring\nseveral benefits upon his brother. And so the horoscope was fully\nfulfilled.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\n\n\nHarisarman\n\n\nThere was a certain Brahman in a certain village, named Harisarman. He\nwas poor and foolish and in evil case for want of employment, and he\nhad very many children, that he might reap the fruit of his misdeeds\nin a former life. He wandered about begging with his family, and at\nlast he reached a certain city, and entered the service of a rich\nhouseholder called Sthuladatta. His sons became keepers of\nSthuladatta's cows and other property, and his wife a servant to him,\nand he himself lived near his house, performing the duty of an\nattendant. One day there was a feast on account of the marriage of the\ndaughter of Sthuladatta, largely attended by many friends of the\nbridegroom, and merry-makers. Harisarman hoped that he would be able\nto fill himself up to the throat with ghee and flesh and other\ndainties, and get the same for his family, in the house of his patron.\nWhile he was anxiously expecting to be fed, no one thought of him.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThen he was distressed at getting nothing to eat, and he said to his\nwife at night, \"It is owing to my poverty and stupidity that I am\ntreated with such disrespect here; so I will pretend by means of an\nartifice to possess a knowledge of magic, so that I may become an\nobject of respect to this Sthuladatta; so, when you get an\nopportunity, tell him that I possess magical knowledge.\" He said this\nto her, and after turning the matter over in his mind, while people\nwere asleep he took away from the house of Sthuladatta a horse on\nwhich his master's son-in-law rode. He placed it in concealment at\nsome distance, and in the morning the friends of the bridegroom could\nnot find the horse, though they searched in every direction. Then,\nwhile Sthuladatta was distressed at the evil omen, and searching for\nthe thieves who had carried off the horse, the wife of Harisarman came\nand said to him, \"My husband is a wise man, skilled in astrology and\nmagical sciences; he can get the horse back for you; why do you not\nask him?\" When Sthuladatta heard that, he called Harisarman, who\nsaid, \"Yesterday I was forgotten, but to-day, now the horse is stolen,\nI am called to mind,\" and Sthuladatta then propitiated the Brahman\nwith these words--\"I forgot you, forgive me\"--and asked him to tell\nhim who had taken away their horse. Then Harisarman drew all kinds of\npretended diagrams, and said: \"The horse has been placed by thieves on\nthe boundary line south from this place. It is concealed there, and\nbefore it is carried off to a distance, as it will be at close of day,\ngo quickly and bring it.\" When they heard that, many men ran and\nbrought the horse quickly, praising the discernment of Harisarman.\nThen Harisarman was honoured by all men as a sage, and dwelt there in\nhappiness, honoured by Sthuladatta.\n\nNow, as days went on, much treasure, both of gold and jewels, had been\nstolen by a thief from the palace of the king. As the thief was not\nknown, the king quickly summoned Harisarman on account of his\nreputation for knowledge of magic. And he, when summoned, tried to\ngain time, and said, \"I will tell you to-morrow,\" and then he was\nplaced in a chamber by the king, and carefully guarded. And he was sad\nbecause he had pretended to have knowledge. Now in that palace there\nwas a maid named Jihva (which means Tongue), who, with the assistance\nof her brother, had stolen that treasure from the interior of the\npalace. She, being alarmed at Harisarman's knowledge, went at night\nand applied her ear to the door of that chamber in order to find out\nwhat he was about. And Harisarman, who was alone inside, was at that\nvery moment blaming his own tongue, that had made a vain assumption of\nknowledge. He said: \"O Tongue, what is this that you have done\nthrough your greediness? Wicked one, you will soon receive punishment\nin full.\" When Jihva heard this, she thought, in her terror, that she\nhad been discovered by this wise man, and she managed to get in where\nhe was, and falling at his feet, she said to the supposed wizard:\n\"Brahman, here I am, that Jihva whom you have discovered to be the\nthief of the treasure, and after I took it I buried it in the earth in\na garden behind the palace, under a pomegranate tree. So spare me, and\nreceive the small quantity of gold which is in my possession.\"\n\nWhen Harisarman heard that, he said to her proudly: \"Depart, I know\nall this; I know the past, present and future; but I will not denounce\nyou, being a miserable creature that has implored my protection. But\nwhatever gold is in your possession you must give back to me.\" When he\nsaid this to the maid, she consented, and departed quickly. But\nHarisarman reflected in his astonishment: \"Fate brings about, as if in\nsport, things impossible, for when calamity was so near, who would\nhave thought chance would have brought us success? While I was blaming\nmy jihva, the thief Jihva suddenly flung herself at my feet. Secret\ncrimes manifest themselves by means of fear.\" Thus thinking, he passed\nthe night happily in the chamber. And in the morning he brought the\nking, by some skilful parade of pretended knowledge into the garden,\nand led him up to the treasure, which was buried under the pomegranate\ntree, and said that the thief had escaped with a part of it. Then the\nking was pleased, and gave him the revenue of many villages.\n\nBut the minister, named Devajnanin, whispered in the king's ear: \"How\ncan a man possess such knowledge unattainable by men, without having\nstudied the books of magic; you may be certain that this is a specimen\nof the way he makes a dishonest livelihood, by having a secret\nintelligence with thieves. It will be much better to test him by some\nnew artifice.\" Then the king of his own accord brought a covered\npitcher into which he had thrown a frog, and said to Harisarman,\n\"Brahman, if you can guess what there is in this pitcher, I will do\nyou great honour to-day.\" When the Brahman Harisarman heard that, he\nthought that his last hour had come, and he called to mind the pet\nname of \"Froggie\" which his father had given him in his childhood in\nsport, and, impelled by luck, he called to himself by his pet name,\nlamenting his hard fate, and suddenly called out: \"This is a fine\npitcher for you, Froggie; it will soon become the swift destroyer of\nyour helpless self.\" The people there, when they heard him say that,\nraised a shout of applause, because his speech chimed in so well with\nthe object presented to him, and murmured, \"Ah! a great sage, he knows\neven about the frog!\" Then the king, thinking that this was all due to\nknowledge of divination, was highly delighted, and gave Harisarman the\nrevenue of more villages, with gold, an umbrella, and state carriages\nof all kinds. So Harisarman prospered in the world.\n\n\n\n\nThe Charmed Ring\n\n\nA merchant started his son in life with three hundred rupees, and bade\nhim go to another country and try his luck in trade. The son took the\nmoney and departed. He had not gone far before he came across some\nherdsmen quarrelling over a dog, that some of them wished to kill.\n\"Please do not kill the dog,\" pleaded the young and tender-hearted\nfellow; \"I will give you one hundred rupees for it.\" Then and there,\nof course, the bargain was concluded, and the foolish fellow took the\ndog, and continued his journey. He next met with some people fighting\nabout a cat. Some of them wanted to kill it, but others not. \"Oh!\nplease do not kill it,\" said he; \"I will give you one hundred rupees\nfor it.\" Of course they at once gave him the cat and took the money.\nHe went on till he reached a village, where some folk were quarrelling\nover a snake that had just been caught. Some of them wished to kill\nit, but others did not. \"Please do not kill the snake,\" said he; \"I\nwill give you one hundred rupees.\" Of course the people agreed, and\nwere highly delighted.\n\nWhat a fool the fellow was! What would he do now that all his money\nwas gone? What could he do except return to his father? Accordingly he\nwent home.\n\n\"You fool! You scamp!\" exclaimed his father when he had heard how his\nson had wasted all the money that had been given to him. \"Go and live\nin the stables and repent of your folly. You shall never again enter\nmy house.\"\n\nSo the young man went and lived in the stables. His bed was the grass\nspread for the cattle, and his companions were the dog, the cat, and\nthe snake, which he had purchased so dearly. These creatures got very\nfond of him, and would follow him about during the day, and sleep by\nhim at night; the cat used to sleep at his feet, the dog at his head,\nand the snake over his body, with its head hanging on one side and its\ntail on the other.\n\nOne day the snake in course of conversation said to its master, \"I am\nthe son of Raja Indrasha. One day, when I had come out of the ground\nto drink the air, some people seized me, and would have slain me had\nyou not most opportunely arrived to my rescue. I do not know how I\nshall ever be able to repay you for your great kindness to me. Would\nthat you knew my father! How glad he would be to see his son's\npreserver!\"\n\n\"Where does he live? I should like to see him, if possible,\" said the\nyoung man.\n\n\"Well said!\" continued the snake. \"Do you see yonder mountain? At the\nbottom of that mountain there is a sacred spring. If you will come\nwith me and dive into that spring, we shall both reach my father's\ncountry. Oh! how glad he will be to see you! He will wish to reward\nyou, too. But how can he do that? However, you may be pleased to\naccept something at his hand. If he asks you what you would like, you\nwould, perhaps, do well to reply, 'The ring on your right hand, and\nthe famous pot and spoon which you possess.' With these in your\npossession, you would never need anything, for the ring is such that a\nman has only to speak to it, and immediately a beautiful furnished\nmansion will be provided for him, while the pot and the spoon will\nsupply him with all manner of the rarest and most delicious foods.\"\n\nAttended by his three companions the man walked to the well and\nprepared to jump in, according to the snake's directions. \"O master!\"\nexclaimed the cat and dog, when they saw what he was going to do.\n\"What shall we do? Where shall we go?\"\n\n\"Wait for me here,\" he replied. \"I am not going far. I shall not be\nlong away.\" On saying this, he dived into the water and was lost to\nsight.\n\n\"Now what shall we do?\" said the dog to the cat.\n\n\"We must remain here,\" replied the cat, \"as our master ordered. Do not\nbe anxious about food. I will go to the people's houses and get plenty\nof food for both of us.\" And so the cat did, and they both lived very\ncomfortably till their master came again and joined them.\n\nThe young man and the snake reached their destination in safety; and\ninformation of their arrival was sent to the Raja. His highness\ncommanded his son and the stranger to appear before him. But the snake\nrefused, saying that it could not go to its father till it was\nreleased from this stranger, who had saved it from a most terrible\ndeath, and whose slave it therefore was. Then the Raja went and\nembraced his son, and saluting the stranger welcomed him to his\ndominions. The young man stayed there a few days, during which he\nreceived the Raja's right-hand ring, and the pot and spoon, in\nrecognition of His Highness's gratitude to him for having delivered\nhis son. He then returned. On reaching the top of the spring he found\nhis friends, the dog and the cat, waiting for him. They told one\nanother all they had experienced since they had last seen each other,\nand were all very glad. Afterwards they walked together to the river\nside, where it was decided to try the powers of the charmed ring and\npot and spoon.\n\nThe merchant's son spoke to the ring, and immediately a beautiful\nhouse and a lovely princess with golden hair appeared. He spoke to the\npot and spoon, also, and the most delicious dishes of food were\nprovided for them. So he married the princess, and they lived very\nhappily for several years, until one morning the princess, while\narranging her toilet, put the loose hairs into a hollow bit of reed\nand threw them into the river that flowed along under the window. The\nreed floated on the water for many miles, and was at last picked up by\nthe prince of that country, who curiously opened it and saw the golden\nhair. On finding it the prince rushed off to the palace, locked\nhimself up in his room, and would not leave it. He had fallen\ndesperately in love with the woman whose hair he had picked up, and\nrefused to eat, or drink, or sleep, or move, till she was brought to\nhim. The king, his father, was in great distress about the matter, and\ndid not know what to do. He feared lest his son should die and leave\nhim without an heir. At last he determined to seek the counsel of his\naunt, who was an ogress. The old woman consented to help him, and\nbade him not to be anxious, as she felt certain that she would succeed\nin getting the beautiful woman for his son's wife.\n\nShe assumed the shape of a bee and went along buzzing, and buzzing,\nand buzzing. Her keen sense of smell soon brought her to the beautiful\nprincess, to whom she appeared as an old hag, holding in one hand a\nstick by way of support. She introduced herself to the beautiful\nprincess and said, \"I am your aunt, whom you have never seen before,\nbecause I left the country just after your birth.\" She also embraced\nand kissed the princess by way of adding force to her words. The\nbeautiful princess was thoroughly deceived. She returned the ogress's\nembrace, and invited her to come and stay in the house as long as she\ncould, and treated her with such honour and attention, that the ogress\nthought to herself, \"I shall soon accomplish my errand.\" When she had\nbeen in the house three days, she began to talk of the charmed ring,\nand advised her to keep it instead of her husband, because the latter\nwas constantly out shooting and on other such-like expeditions, and\nmight lose it. Accordingly the beautiful princess asked her husband\nfor the ring, and he readily gave it to her.\n\nThe ogress waited another day before she asked to see the precious\nthing. Doubting nothing, the beautiful princess complied, when the\nogress seized the ring, and reassuming the form of a bee flew away\nwith it to the palace, where the prince was lying nearly on the point\nof death. \"Rise up. Be glad. Mourn no more,\" she said to him. \"The\nwoman for whom you yearn will appear at your summons. See, here is the\ncharm, whereby you may bring her before you.\" The prince was almost\nmad with joy when he heard these words, and was so desirous of seeing\nthe beautiful princess, that he immediately spoke to the ring, and the\nhouse with its fair occupant descended in the midst of the palace\ngarden. He at once entered the building, and telling the beautiful\nprincess of his intense love, entreated her to be his wife. Seeing no\nescape from the difficulty, she consented on the condition that he\nwould wait one month for her.\n\nMeanwhile the merchant's son had returned from hunting and was\nterribly distressed not to find his house and wife. There was the\nplace only, just as he knew it before he had tried the charmed ring\nwhich Raja Indrasha had given him. He sat down and determined to put\nan end to himself. Presently the cat and dog came up. They had gone\naway and hidden themselves, when they saw the house and everything\ndisappear. \"O master!\" they said, \"stay your hand. Your trial is\ngreat, but it can be remedied. Give us one month, and we will go and\ntry to recover your wife and house.\"\n\n\"Go,\" said he, \"and may the great God aid your efforts. Bring back my\nwife, and I shall live.\"\n\nSo the cat and dog started off at a run, and did not stop till they\nreached the place whither their mistress and the house had been taken.\n\"We may have some difficulty here,\" said the cat. \"Look, the king has\ntaken our master's wife and house for himself. You stay here. I will\ngo to the house and try to see her.\" So the dog sat down, and the cat\nclimbed up to the window of the room, wherein the beautiful princess\nwas sitting, and entered. The princess recognised the cat, and\ninformed it of all that had happened to her since she had left them.\n\n\"But is there no way of escape from the hands of these people?\" she\nasked.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the cat, \"if you can tell me where the charmed ring\nis.\"\n\n\"The ring is in the stomach of the ogress,\" she said.\n\n\"All right,\" said the cat, \"I will recover it. If we once get it,\neverything is ours.\" Then the cat descended the wall of the house, and\nwent and laid down by a rat's hole and pretended she was dead. Now at\nthat time a great wedding chanced to be going on among the rat\ncommunity of that place, and all the rats of the neighbourhood were\nassembled in that one particular mine by which the cat had lain down.\nThe eldest son of the king of the rats was about to be married. The\ncat got to know of this, and at once conceived the idea of seizing the\nbridegroom and making him render the necessary help. Consequently,\nwhen the procession poured forth from the hole squealing and jumping\nin honour of the occasion, it immediately spotted the bridegroom and\npounced down on him. \"Oh! let me go, let me go,\" cried the terrified\nrat. \"Oh! let him go,\" squealed all the company. \"It is his wedding\nday.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" replied the cat. \"Not unless you do something for me.\nListen. The ogress, who lives in that house with the prince and his\nwife, has swallowed a ring, which I very much want. If you will\nprocure it for me, I will allow the rat to depart unharmed. If you do\nnot, then your prince dies under my feet.\"\n\n\"Very well, we agree,\" said they all. \"Nay, if we do not get the ring\nfor you, devour us all.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE CHARMED RING]\n\nThis was rather a bold offer. However, they accomplished the\nthing. At midnight, when the ogress was sound asleep, one of the rats\nwent to her bedside, climbed up on her face, and inserted its tail\ninto her throat; whereupon the ogress coughed violently, and the ring\ncame out and rolled on to the floor. The rat immediately seized the\nprecious thing and ran off with it to its king, who was very glad, and\nwent at once to the cat and released its son.\n\nAs soon as the cat received the ring, she started back with the dog to\ngo and tell their master the good tidings. All seemed safe now. They\nhad only to give the ring to him, and he would speak to it, and the\nhouse and beautiful princess would again be with them, and everything\nwould go on as happily as before. \"How glad master will be!\" they\nthought, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Now, on the\nway they had to cross a stream. The dog swam, and the cat sat on its\nback. Now the dog was jealous of the cat, so he asked for the ring,\nand threatened to throw the cat into the water if it did not give it\nup; whereupon the cat gave up the ring. Sorry moment, for the dog at\nonce dropped it, and a fish swallowed it.\n\n\"Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?\" said the dog.\n\n\"What is done is done,\" replied the cat. \"We must try to recover it,\nand if we do not succeed we had better drown ourselves in this stream.\nI have a plan. You go and kill a small lamb, and bring it here to me.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said the dog, and at once ran off. He soon came back with\na dead lamb, and gave it to the cat. The cat got inside the lamb and\nlay down, telling the dog to go away a little distance and keep quiet.\nNot long after this a nadhar, a bird whose look can break the bones\nof a fish, came and hovered over the lamb, and eventually pounced down\non it to carry it away. On this the cat came out and jumped on to the\nbird, and threatened to kill it if it did not recover the lost ring.\nThis was most readily promised by the nadhar, who immediately flew off\nto the king of the fishes, and ordered it to make inquiries and to\nrestore the ring. The king of the fishes did so, and the ring was\nfound and carried back to the cat.\n\n\"Come along now; I have got the ring,\" said the cat to the dog.\n\n\"No, I will not,\" said the dog, \"unless you let me have the ring. I\ncan carry it as well as you. Let me have it or I will kill you.\" So\nthe cat was obliged to give up the ring. The careless dog very soon\ndropped it again. This time it was picked up and carried off by a\nkite.\n\n\"See, see, there it goes--away to that big tree,\" the cat exclaimed.\n\n\"Oh! oh! what have I done?\" cried the dog.\n\n\"You foolish thing, I knew it would be so,\" said the cat. \"But stop\nyour barking, or you will frighten away the bird to some place where\nwe shall not be able to trace it.\"\n\nThe cat waited till it was quite dark, and then climbed the tree,\nkilled the kite, and recovered the ring. \"Come along,\" it said to the\ndog when it reached the ground. \"We must make haste now. We have been\ndelayed. Our master will die from grief and suspense. Come on.\"\n\nThe dog, now thoroughly ashamed of itself, begged the cat's pardon for\nall the trouble it had given. It was afraid to ask for the ring the\nthird time, so they both reached their sorrowing master in safety and\ngave him the precious charm. In a moment his sorrow was turned into\njoy. He spoke to the ring, and his beautiful wife and house\nreappeared, and he and everybody were as happy as ever they could be.\n\n\n\n\nThe Talkative Tortoise\n\n\nThe future Buddha was once born in a minister's family, when\nBrahma-datta was reigning in Benares; and when he grew up, he became\nthe king's adviser in things temporal and spiritual.\n\nNow this king was very talkative; while he was speaking, others had no\nopportunity for a word. And the future Buddha, wanting to cure this\ntalkativeness of his, was constantly seeking for some means of doing\nso.\n\nAt that time there was living, in a pond in the Himalaya mountains, a\ntortoise. Two young hamsas, or wild ducks, who came to feed there,\nmade friends with him. And one day, when they had become very intimate\nwith him, they said to the tortoise:\n\n\"Friend tortoise! the place where we live, at the Golden Cave on Mount\nBeautiful in the Himalaya country, is a delightful spot. Will you come\nthere with us?\"\n\n\"But how can I get there?\"\n\n\"We can take you, if you can only hold your tongue, and will say\nnothing to anybody.\"\n\n\"Oh! that I can do. Take me with you.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" said they. And making the tortoise bite hold of a\nstick, they themselves took the two ends in their teeth, and flew up\ninto the air.\n\nSeeing him thus carried by the hamsas, some villagers called out, \"Two\nwild ducks are carrying a tortoise along on a stick!\" Whereupon the\ntortoise wanted to say, \"If my friends choose to carry me, what is\nthat to you, you wretched slaves!\" So just as the swift flight of the\nwild ducks had brought him over the king's palace in the city of\nBenares, he let go of the stick he was biting, and falling in the open\ncourtyard, split in two! And there arose a universal cry, \"A tortoise\nhas fallen in the open courtyard, and has split in two!\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThe king, taking the future Buddha, went to the place, surrounded by\nhis courtiers; and looking at the tortoise, he asked the Bodisat,\n\"Teacher! how comes he to be fallen here?\"\n\nThe future Buddha thought to himself, \"Long expecting, wishing to\nadmonish the king, have I sought for some means of doing so. This\ntortoise must have made friends with the wild ducks; and they must\nhave made him bite hold of the stick, and have flown up into the air\nto take him to the hills. But he, being unable to hold his tongue\nwhen he hears any one else talk, must have wanted to say something,\nand let go the stick; and so must have fallen down from the sky, and\nthus lost his life.\" And saying, \"Truly, O king! those who are called\nchatter-boxes--people whose words have no end--come to grief like\nthis,\" he uttered these Verses:\n\n    \"Verily the tortoise killed himself\n    Whilst uttering his voice;\n    Though he was holding tight the stick,\n    By a word himself he slew.\n\n    \"Behold him then, O excellent by strength!\n    And speak wise words, not out of season.\n    You see how, by his talking overmuch,\n    The tortoise fell into this wretched plight!\"\n\nThe king saw that he was himself referred to, and said, \"O Teacher!\nare you speaking of us?\"\n\nAnd the Bodisat spake openly, and said, \"O great king! be it thou, or\nbe it any other, whoever talks beyond measure meets with some mishap\nlike this.\"\n\nAnd the king henceforth refrained himself, and became a man of few\nwords.\n\n\n\n\nA Lac of Rupees for a Bit of Advice\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nA poor blind Brahman and his wife were dependent on their son for\ntheir subsistence. Every day the young fellow used to go out and get\nwhat he could by begging. This continued for some time, till at last\nhe became quite tired of such a wretched life, and determined to go\nand try his luck in another country. He informed his wife of his\nintention, and ordered her to manage somehow or other for the old\npeople during the few months that he would be absent. He begged her to\nbe industrious, lest his parents should be angry and curse him.\n\nOne morning he started with some food in a bundle, and walked on day\nafter day, till he reached the chief city of the neighbouring country.\nHere he went and sat down by a merchant's shop and asked alms. The\nmerchant inquired whence he had come, why he had come, and what was\nhis caste; to which he replied that he was a Brahman, and was\nwandering hither and thither begging a livelihood for himself and wife\nand parents. Moved with pity for the man, the merchant advised him to\nvisit the kind and generous king of that country, and offered to\naccompany him to the court. Now at that time it happened that the king\nwas seeking for a Brahman to look after a golden temple which he had\njust had built. His Majesty was very glad, therefore, when he saw the\nBrahman and heard that he was good and honest. He at once deputed him\nto the charge of this temple, and ordered fifty kharwars of rice and\none hundred rupees to be paid to him every year as wages.\n\nTwo months after this, the Brahman's wife, not having heard any news\nof her husband, left the house and went in quest of him. By a happy\nfate she arrived at the very place that he had reached, where she\nheard that every morning at the golden temple a golden rupee was given\nin the king's name to any beggar who chose to go for it. Accordingly,\non the following morning she went to the place and met her husband.\n\n\"Why have you come here?\" he asked. \"Why have you left my parents?\nCare you not whether they curse me and I die? Go back immediately, and\nawait my return.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said the woman. \"I cannot go back to starve and see your old\nfather and mother die. There is not a grain of rice left in the\nhouse.\"\n\n\"O Bhagawant!\" exclaimed the Brahman. \"Here, take this,\" he continued,\nscribbling a few lines on some paper, and then handing it to her, \"and\ngive it to the king. You will see that he will give you a lac of\nrupees for it.\" Thus saying he dismissed her, and the woman left.\n\nOn this scrap of paper were written three pieces of advice--First, If\na person is travelling and reaches any strange place at night, let him\nbe careful where he puts up, and not close his eyes in sleep, lest he\nclose them in death. Secondly, If a man has a married sister, and\nvisits her in great pomp, she will receive him for the sake of what\nshe can obtain from him; but if he comes to her in poverty, she will\nfrown on him and disown him. Thirdly, If a man has to do any work, he\nmust do it himself, and do it with might and without fear.\n\nOn reaching her home the Brahmani told her parents of her meeting with\nher husband, and what a valuable piece of paper he had given her; but\nnot liking to go before the king herself, she sent one of her\nrelations. The king read the paper, and ordering the man to be\nflogged, dismissed him. The next morning the Brahmani took the paper,\nand while she was going along the road to the darbar reading it, the\nking's son met her, and asked what she was reading, whereupon she\nreplied that she held in her hands a paper containing certain bits of\nadvice, for which she wanted a lac of rupees. The prince asked her to\nshow it to him, and when he had read it gave her a parwana for the\namount, and rode on. The poor Brahmani was very thankful. That day she\nlaid in a great store of provisions, sufficient to last them all for a\nlong time.\n\nIn the evening the prince related to his father the meeting with the\nwoman, and the purchase of the piece of paper. He thought his father\nwould applaud the act. But it was not so. The king was more angry than\nbefore, and banished his son from the country.\n\nSo the prince bade adieu to his mother and relations and friends, and\nrode off on his horse, whither he did not know. At nightfall he\narrived at some place, where a man met him, and invited him to lodge\nat his house. The prince accepted the invitation, and was treated like\na prince. Matting was spread for him to squat on, and the best\nprovisions set before him.\n\n\"Ah!\" thought he, as he lay down to rest, \"here is a case for the\nfirst piece of advice that the Brahmani gave me. I will not sleep\nto-night.\"\n\nIt was well that he thus resolved, for in the middle of the night the\nman rose up, and taking a sword in his hand, rushed to the prince with\nthe intention of killing him. But he rose up and spoke.\n\n\"Do not slay me,\" he said. \"What profit would you get from my death?\nIf you killed me you would be sorry afterwards, like that man who\nkilled his dog.\"\n\n\"What man? What dog?\" he asked.\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said the prince, \"if you will give me that sword.\"\n\nSo he gave him the sword, and the prince began his story:\n\n\"Once upon a time there lived a wealthy merchant who had a pet dog. He\nwas suddenly reduced to poverty, and had to part with his dog. He got\na loan of five thousand rupees from a brother merchant, leaving the\ndog as a pledge, and with the money began business again. Not long\nafter this the other merchant's shop was broken into by thieves and\ncompletely sacked. There was hardly ten rupees' worth left in the\nplace. The faithful dog, however, knew what was going on, and went and\nfollowed the thieves, and saw where they deposited the things, and\nthen returned.\n\n\"In the morning there was great weeping and lamentation in the\nmerchant's house when it was known what had happened. The merchant\nhimself nearly went mad. Meanwhile the dog kept on running to the\ndoor, and pulling at his master's shirt and paijamas, as though\nwishing him to go outside. At last a friend suggested that, perhaps,\nthe dog knew something of the whereabouts of the things, and advised\nthe merchant to follow its leadings. The merchant consented, and went\nafter the dog right up to the very place where the thieves had hidden\nthe goods. Here the animal scraped and barked, and showed in various\nways that the things were underneath. So the merchant and his friends\ndug about the place, and soon came upon all the stolen property.\nNothing was missing. There was everything just as the thieves had\ntaken them.\n\n\"The merchant was very glad. On returning to his house, he at once\nsent the dog back to its old master with a letter rolled under the\ncollar, wherein he had written about the sagacity of the beast, and\nbegged his friend to forget the loan and to accept another five\nthousand rupees as a present. When this merchant saw his dog coming\nback again, he thought, 'Alas! my friend is wanting the money. How can\nI pay him? I have not had sufficient time to recover myself from my\nrecent losses. I will slay the dog ere he reaches the threshold, and\nsay that another must have slain it. Thus there will be an end of my\ndebt. No dog, no loan.' Accordingly he ran out and killed the poor\ndog, when the letter fell out of its collar. The merchant picked it up\nand read it. How great was his grief and disappointment when he knew\nthe facts of the case!\n\n\"Beware,\" continued the prince, \"lest you do that which afterwards you\nwould give your life not to have done.\"\n\nBy the time the prince had concluded this story it was nearly morning,\nand he went away, after rewarding the man.\n\nThe prince then visited the country belonging to his brother-in-law.\nHe disguised himself as a jogi, and sitting down by a tree near the\npalace, pretended to be absorbed in worship. News of the man and of\nhis wonderful piety reached the ears of the king. He felt interested\nin him, as his wife was very ill; and he had sought for hakims to cure\nher, but in vain. He thought that, perhaps, this holy man could do\nsomething for her. So he sent to him. But the jogi refused to tread\nthe halls of a king, saying that his dwelling was the open air, and\nthat if his Majesty wished to see him he must come himself and bring\nhis wife to the place. Then the king took his wife and brought her to\nthe jogi. The holy man bade her prostrate herself before him, and when\nshe had remained in this position for about three hours, he told her\nto rise and go, for she was cured.\n\nIn the evening there was great consternation in the palace, because\nthe queen had lost her pearl rosary, and nobody knew anything about\nit. At length some one went to the jogi, and found it on the ground by\nthe place where the queen had prostrated herself. When the king heard\nthis he was very angry, and ordered the jogi to be executed. This\nstern order, however, was not carried out, as the prince bribed the\nmen and escaped from the country. But he knew that the second bit of\nadvice was true.\n\nClad in his own clothes, the prince was walking along one day when he\nsaw a potter crying and laughing alternately with his wife and\nchildren. \"O fool,\" said he, \"what is the matter? If you laugh, why do\nyou weep? If you weep, why do you laugh?\"\n\n\"Do not bother me,\" said the potter. \"What does it matter to you?\"\n\n\"Pardon me,\" said the prince, \"but I should like to know the reason.\"\n\n\"The reason is this, then,\" said the potter. \"The king of this country\nhas a daughter whom he is obliged to marry every day, because all her\nhusbands die the first night of their stay with her. Nearly all the\nyoung men of the place have thus perished, and our son will be called\non soon. We laugh at the absurdity of the thing--a potter's son\nmarrying a princess, and we cry at the terrible consequence of the\nmarriage. What can we do?\"\n\n\"Truly a matter for laughing and weeping. But weep no more,\" said the\nprince. \"I will exchange places with your son, and will be married to\nthe princess instead of him. Only give me suitable garments, and\nprepare me for the occasion.\"\n\nSo the potter gave him beautiful raiment and ornaments, and the prince\nwent to the palace. At night he was conducted to the apartment of the\nprincess. \"Dread hour!\" thought he; \"am I to die like the scores of\nyoung men before me?\" He clenched his sword with firm grip, and lay\ndown on his bed, intending to keep awake all the night and see what\nwould happen. In the middle of the night he saw two Shahmars come out\nfrom the nostrils of the princess. They stole over towards him,\nintending to kill him, like the others who had been before him: but he\nwas ready for them. He laid hold of his sword, and when the snakes\nreached his bed he struck at them and killed them. In the morning the\nking came as usual to inquire, and was surprised to hear his daughter\nand the prince talking gaily together. \"Surely,\" said he, \"this man\nmust be her husband, as he only can live with her.\"\n\n\"Where do you come from? Who are you?\" asked the king, entering the\nroom.\n\n\"O king!\" replied the prince, \"I am the son of a king who rules over\nsuch-and-such a country.\"\n\nWhen he heard this the king was very glad, and bade the prince to\nabide in his palace, and appointed him his successor to the throne.\nThe prince remained at the palace for more than a year, and then asked\npermission to visit his own country, which was granted. The king gave\nhim elephants, horses, jewels, and abundance of money for the expenses\nof the way and as presents for his father, and the prince started.\n\nOn the way he had to pass through the country belonging to his\nbrother-in-law, whom we have already mentioned. Report of his arrival\nreached the ears of the king, who came with rope-tied hands and\nhaltered neck to do him homage. He most humbly begged him to stay at\nhis palace, and to accept what little hospitality could be provided.\nWhile the prince was staying at the palace he saw his sister, who\ngreeted him with smiles and kisses. On leaving he told her how she and\nher husband had treated him at his first visit, and how he had\nescaped; and then gave them two elephants, two beautiful horses,\nfifteen soldiers, and ten lacs rupees' worth of jewels.\n\nAfterwards he went to his own home, and informed his mother and father\nof his arrival. Alas! his parents had both become blind from weeping\nabout the loss of their son. \"Let him come in,\" said the king, \"and\nput his hands upon our eyes, and we shall see again.\" So the prince\nentered, and was most affectionately greeted by his old parents; and\nhe laid his hands on their eyes, and they saw again.\n\nThen the prince told his father all that had happened to him, and how\nhe had been saved several times by attending to the advice that he had\npurchased from the Brahmani. Whereupon the king expressed his sorrow\nfor having sent him away, and all was joy and peace again.\n\n\n\n\nThe Gold-giving Serpent\n\n\nNow in a certain place there lived a Brahman named Haridatta. He was a\nfarmer, but poor was the return his labour brought him. One day, at\nthe end of the hot hours, the Brahman, overcome by the heat, lay down\nunder the shadow of a tree to have a doze. Suddenly he saw a great\nhooded snake creeping out of an ant-hill near at hand. So he thought\nto himself, \"Sure this is the guardian deity of the field, and I have\nnot ever worshipped it. That's why my farming is in vain. I will at\nonce go and pay my respects to it.\"\n\nWhen he had made up his mind, he got some milk, poured it into a bowl,\nand went to the ant-hill, and said aloud: \"O Guardian of this Field!\nall this while I did not know that you dwelt here. That is why I have\nnot yet paid my respects to you; pray forgive me.\" And he laid the\nmilk down and went to his house. Next morning he came and looked, and\nhe saw a gold denar in the bowl, and from that time onward every day\nthe same thing occurred: he gave milk to the serpent and found a gold\ndenar.\n\nOne day the Brahman had to go to the village, and so he ordered his\nson to take the milk to the ant-hill. The son brought the milk, put\nit down, and went back home. Next day he went again and found a\ndenar, so he thought to himself: \"This ant-hill is surely full\nof golden denars; I'll kill the serpent, and take them all for\nmyself.\" So next day, while he was giving the milk to the serpent, the\nBrahman's son struck it on the head with a cudgel. But the serpent\nescaped death by the will of fate, and in a rage bit the Brahman's son\nwith its sharp fangs, and he fell down dead at once. His people raised\nhim a funeral pyre not far from the field and burnt him to ashes.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nTwo days afterwards his father came back, and when he learnt his son's\nfate he grieved and mourned. But after a time, he took the bowl of\nmilk, went to the ant-hill, and praised the serpent with a loud voice.\nAfter a long, long time the serpent appeared, but only with its head\nout of the opening of the ant-hill, and spoke to the Brahman: \"'Tis\ngreed that brings you here, and makes you even forget the loss of\nyour son. From this time forward friendship between us is impossible.\nYour son struck me in youthful ignorance, and I have bitten him to\ndeath. How can I forget the blow with the cudgel? And how can you\nforget the pain and grief at the loss of your son?\" So speaking, it\ngave the Brahman a costly pearl and disappeared. But before it went\naway it said: \"Come back no more.\" The Brahman took the pearl, and\nwent back home, cursing the folly of his son.\n\n\n\n\nThe Son of Seven Queens\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King who had seven Queens, but no\nchildren. This was a great grief to him, especially when he remembered\nthat on his death there would be no heir to inherit the kingdom.\n\nNow it happened one day that a poor old fakir came to the King, and\nsaid, \"Your prayers are heard, your desire shall be accomplished, and\none 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\n[Illustration:]\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 more success to the\neast or west, so that, being a keen sportsman, and determined not to\ngo home empty-handed, he forgot all about his promise, and turned to\nthe north. Here also he was at first unsuccessful, but just as he had\nmade up his mind to give up for that day, a white hind with golden\nhorns and silver hoofs flashed past him into a thicket. So quickly did\nit pass that he scarcely saw it; nevertheless a burning desire to\ncapture and possess the beautiful strange creature filled his breast.\nHe instantly ordered his attendants to form a ring round the thicket,\nand so encircle the hind; then, gradually narrowing the circle, he\npressed forward till he could distinctly see the white hind panting in\nthe midst. Nearer and nearer he advanced, till, just as he thought to\nlay hold of the beautiful strange creature, it gave one mighty bound,\nleapt clean over the King's head, and fled towards the mountains.\nForgetful of all else, the King, setting spurs to his horse, followed\nat full speed. On, on he galloped, leaving his retinue far behind,\nkeeping the white hind in view, never drawing bridle, until, finding\nhimself in a narrow ravine with no outlet, he reined in his steed.\nBefore him stood a miserable hovel, into which, being tired after his\nlong, unsuccessful chase, he entered to ask for a drink of water. An\nold woman, seated in the hut at a spinning-wheel, answered his request\nby calling to her daughter, and immediately from an inner room came a\nmaiden so lovely and charming, so white-skinned and golden-haired,\nthat the King was transfixed by astonishment at seeing so beautiful a\nsight 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, so he fell on his knees, begging her to\nreturn with him as his bride; but she only laughed, saying seven\nQueens were quite enough even for a King to manage. However, when he\nwould take no refusal, but implored her to have pity on him, promising\nher everything she could desire, she replied, \"Give me the eyes of\nyour seven Queens, and then perhaps I may believe you mean what you\nsay.\"\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 horrible 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 had their eyes\ntorn out, and were cast into prison, a baby was born to the youngest\nof the Queens. It was a handsome boy, but the other Queens were very\njealous that the youngest amongst them should be so fortunate. But\nthough at first they disliked the handsome little boy, he soon proved\nso useful to them, that ere long they all looked on him as their son.\nAlmost as soon as he could walk about he began scraping at the mud\nwall of their dungeon, and in an incredibly short space of time had\nmade a hole big enough for him to crawl through. Through this he\ndisappeared, returning in an hour or so laden with sweetmeats, which\nhe divided equally amongst the seven 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 past the palace\nwhere the white hind lived in wicked splendour and magnificence, he\nsaw some pigeons fluttering round the white marble turrets, and,\ntaking good aim, shot one dead. It came tumbling past the very window\nwhere the white Queen was sitting; she rose to see what was the\nmatter, and looked out. At the first glance of the handsome young lad\nstanding there bow in hand, she knew by witchcraft that it was the\nKing'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 Queens could not read, he took the fatal\nmessage cheerfully, and set off to find the white Queen's mother.\n\nWhilst he was journeying he passed through a town, where every one of\nthe inhabitants looked so sad, that he could not help asking what was\nthe 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 who ever heard of such a thing? The King, in despair, had\nordered every man who entered the city gates to be led before the\nPrincess; so, much to the lad's impatience, for he was in an immense\nhurry to find his mothers' eyes, he was dragged into the\npresence-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.\n\n[Illustration: THE SON OF SEVEN MOTHERS]\n\nThe inhabitants nearly went wild with joy, but the son of seven\nQueens said he would not marry the Princess unless they first let him\nrecover his mothers' eyes. When the beautiful bride heard his story,\nshe asked to see the potsherd, for she was very learned and clever.\nSeeing the treacherous words, she said nothing, but taking another\nsimilar-shaped bit of potsherd, she wrote on it these words--\"Take\ncare of this lad, giving him all he desires,\" and returned it to the\nson of seven Queens, who, none the wiser, set off on his quest.\n\nEre long he arrived at the hovel in the ravine where the white witch's\nmother, a hideous old creature, grumbled dreadfully on reading the\nmessage, 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 lost one last week.\"\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 saw some pigeons on the\nroof. Drawing his bow, he shot one, and it came fluttering past the\nwindow. The white hind looked out, and lo! there was the King's son\nalive 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 Jogi's wonderful cow, whose\nmilk flows all day long, and makes a pond as big as a kingdom. The\nlad, nothing loth, gave her the pigeon; whereupon, as before, she bade\nhim go ask her mother for the cow, and gave him a potsherd whereon was\nwritten--\"Kill this lad without fail, and sprinkle his blood like\nwater!\"\n\nBut on the way the son of seven Queens looked in on the Princess, just\nto 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 Jogi's cow,\nshe could not refuse, but told the boy how to find it; and bidding him\nof all things not to be afraid of the eighteen thousand demons who\nkept watch and ward over the treasure, told him to be off before she\nbecame too angry at her daughter's foolishness in thus giving away so\nmany 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 Jogi's cow,\ntall, white, and beautiful, while the Jogi 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 Jogi, 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 kettle-drum, and says your\nskin is nice and tough.\"\n\nUpon this the Jogi began to shiver and shake (for no Jinn or Jogi\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 Queens, after a little pretended hesitation,\nagreed, saying that after all it would not be difficult to find a nice\ntough skin like the Jogi's elsewhere; so, driving the wonderful cow\nbefore him, he set off homewards. The seven Queens were delighted to\npossess so marvellous an animal, and though they toiled from morning\ntill night making curds and whey, besides selling milk to the\nconfectioners, they could not use half the cow gave, and became richer\nand richer day by day.\n\nSeeing them so comfortably off, the son of seven Queens started with a\nlight 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. One fell dead just beneath the window where the\nwhite Queen was sitting. Looking out, she saw the lad hale and hearty\nstanding before her, and grew whiter than ever with rage and spite.\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 Queens set off, and soon came to the field where,\nguarded by eighteen millions of demons, the million-fold rice grew. He\nwalked on bravely, looking neither to the right or 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 Queens 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\n[Illustration:]\n\nSo the son of seven Queens returned joyfully to his seven mothers,\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, when\nall was prepared, she bade her husband give a grand feast to the King.\nNow the King had heard much of the mysterious son of seven Queens, and\nhis marvellous wealth, so he gladly accepted the invitation; but what\nwas his astonishment when on entering the palace he found it was a\nfacsimile of his own in every particular! And when his host, richly\nattired, led him straight to the private hall, where on royal thrones\nsat the seven Queens, dressed as he had last seen them, he was\nspeechless with surprise, until the Princess, coming forward, threw\nherself at his feet, and told him the whole story. Then the King awoke\nfrom his enchantment, and his anger rose against the wicked white hind\nwho had bewitched him so long, until he could not contain himself. So\nshe was put to death, and her grave ploughed over, and after that the\nseven Queens returned to their own splendid palace, and everybody\nlived happily.\n\n\n\n\nA Lesson for Kings\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the\nfuture Buddha returned to life as his son and heir. And when the day\ncame for choosing a name, they called him Prince Brahma-datta. He grew\nup in due course; and when he was sixteen years old, went to\nTakkasila, and became accomplished in all arts. And after his father\ndied he ascended the throne, and ruled the kingdom with righteousness\nand equity. He gave judgments without partiality, hatred, ignorance,\nor fear. Since he thus reigned with justice, with justice also his\nministers administered the law. Law-suits being thus decided with\njustice, there were none who brought false cases. And as these ceased,\nthe noise and tumult of litigation ceased in the king's court. Though\nthe judges sat all day in the court, they had to leave without any one\ncoming for justice. It came to this, that the Hall of Justice would\nhave to be closed!\n\nThen the future Buddha thought, \"It cannot be from my reigning with\nrighteousness that none come for judgment; the bustle has ceased, and\nthe Hall of Justice will have to be closed. I must, therefore, now\nexamine into my own faults; and if I find that anything is wrong in\nme, put that away, and practise only virtue.\"\n\nThenceforth he sought for some one to tell him his faults, but among\nthose around him he found no one who would tell him of any fault, but\nheard only his own praise.\n\nThen he thought, \"It is from fear of me that these men speak only good\nthings, and not evil things,\" and he sought among those people who\nlived outside the palace. And finding no fault-finder there, he sought\namong those who lived outside the city, in the suburbs, at the four\ngates. And there too finding no one to find fault, and hearing only\nhis own praise, he determined to search the country places.\n\nSo he made over the kingdom to his ministers, and mounted his chariot;\nand taking only his charioteer, left the city in disguise. And\nsearching the country through, up to the very boundary, he found no\nfault-finder, and heard only of his own virtue; and so he turned back\nfrom the outer-most boundary, and returned by the high road towards\nthe city.\n\nNow at that time the king of Kosala, Mallika by name, was also ruling\nhis kingdom with righteousness; and when seeking for some fault in\nhimself, he also found no fault-finder in the palace but only heard of\nhis own virtue! So seeking in country places, he too came to that\nvery spot. And these two came face to face in a low cart-track with\nprecipitous sides, where there was no space for a chariot to get out\nof the way!\n\nThen the charioteer of Mallika the king said to the charioteer of the\nking of Benares, \"Take thy chariot out of the way!\"\n\nBut he said, \"Take thy chariot out of the way, O charioteer! In this\nchariot sitteth the lord over the kingdom of Benares, the great king\nBrahma-datta.\"\n\nYet the other replied, \"In this chariot, O charioteer, sitteth the\nlord over the kingdom of Kosala, the great king Mallika. Take thy\ncarriage out of the way, and make room for the chariot of our king!\"\n\nThen the charioteer of the king of Benares thought, \"They say then\nthat he too is a king! What _is_ now to be done?\" After some\nconsideration, he said to himself, \"I know a way. I'll find out how\nold he is, and then I'll let the chariot of the younger be got out of\nthe way, and so make room for the elder.\"\n\nAnd when he had arrived at that conclusion, he asked that charioteer\nwhat the age of the king of Kosala was. But on inquiry he found that\nthe ages of both were equal. Then he inquired about the extent of his\nkingdom, and about his army, and his wealth, and his renown, and about\nthe country he lived in, and his caste and tribe and family. And he\nfound that both were lords of a kingdom three hundred leagues in\nextent; and that in respect of army and wealth and renown, and the\ncountries in which they lived, and their caste and their tribe and\ntheir family, they were just on a par!\n\nThen he thought, \"I will make way for the most righteous.\" And he\nasked, \"What kind of righteousness has this king of yours?\"\n\nThen the chorister of the king of Kosala, proclaiming his king's\nwickedness as goodness, uttered the First Stanza:\n\n    \"The strong he overthrows by strength,\n    The mild by mildness, does Mallika;\n    The good he conquers by goodness,\n    And the wicked by wickedness too.\n      Such is the nature of _this_ king!\n      Move out of the way, O charioteer!\"\n\nBut the charioteer of the king of Benares asked him, \"Well, have you\ntold all the virtues of your king?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the other.\n\n\"If these are his _virtues_, where are then his faults?\" replied he.\n\nThe other said, \"Well, for the nonce, they shall be faults, if you\nlike! But pray, then, what is the kind of goodness your king has?\"\n\nAnd then the charioteer of the king of Benares called unto him to\nhearken, and uttered the Second Stanza:\n\n    \"Anger he conquers by calmness,\n    And by goodness the wicked;\n    The stingy he conquers by gifts,\n    And by truth the speaker of lies.\n      Such is the nature of _this_ king!\n      Move out of the way, O charioteer!\"\n\nAnd when he had thus spoken, both Mallika the king and his charioteer\nalighted from their chariot. And they took out the horses, and removed\ntheir chariot, and made way for the king of Benares!\n\n\n\n\nPride goeth before a Fall\n\n\nIn a certain village there lived ten cloth merchants, who always went\nabout together. Once upon a time they had travelled far afield, and\nwere returning home with a great deal of money which they had obtained\nby selling their wares. Now there happened to be a dense forest near\ntheir village, and this they reached early one morning. In it there\nlived three notorious robbers, of whose existence the traders had\nnever heard, and while they were still in the middle of it the robbers\nstood before them, with swords and cudgels in their hands, and ordered\nthem to lay down all they had. The traders had no weapons with them,\nand so, though they were many more in number, they had to submit\nthemselves to the robbers, who took away everything from them, even\nthe very clothes they wore, and gave to each only a small loin-cloth a\nspan in breadth and a cubit in length.\n\nThe idea that they had conquered ten men and plundered all their\nproperty, now took possession of the robbers' minds. They seated\nthemselves like three monarchs before the men they had plundered, and\nordered them to dance to them before returning home. The merchants\nnow mourned their fate. They had lost all they had, except their\nloin-cloth, and still the robbers were not satisfied, but ordered them\nto dance.\n\nThere was, among the ten merchants, one who was very clever. He\npondered over the calamity that had come upon him and his friends, the\ndance they would have to perform, and the magnificent manner in which\nthe three robbers had seated themselves on the grass. At the same time\nhe observed that these last had placed their weapons on the ground, in\nthe assurance of having thoroughly cowed the traders, who were now\ncommencing to dance. So he took the lead in the dance, and, as a song\nis always sung by the leader on such occasions, to which the rest keep\ntime with hands and feet, he thus began to sing:\n\n    \"We are enty men,\n    They are erith men:\n    If each erith man,\n    Surround eno men\n    Eno man remains.\n    _T\u00e2, tai, t\u00f4m, tadingana._\"\n\nThe robbers were all uneducated, and thought that the leader was\nmerely singing a song as usual. So it was in one sense; for the leader\ncommenced from a distance, and had sung the song over twice before he\nand his companions commenced to approach the robbers. They had\nunderstood his meaning, because they had been trained in trade.\n\nWhen two traders discuss the price of an article in the presence of a\npurchaser, they use a riddling sort of language.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\"What is the price of this cloth?\" one trader will ask another.\n\n\"Enty rupees,\" another will reply, meaning \"ten rupees.\"\n\nThus, there is no possibility of the purchaser knowing what is meant\nunless he be acquainted with trade language. By the rules of this\nsecret language erith means \"three,\" enty means \"ten,\" and eno means\n\"one.\" So the leader by his song meant to hint to his fellow-traders\nthat they were ten men, the robbers only three, that if three pounced\nupon each of the robbers, nine of them could hold them down, while the\nremaining one bound the robbers' hands and feet.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThe three thieves, glorying in their victory, and little understanding\nthe meaning of the song and the intentions of the dancers, were\nproudly seated chewing betel and tobacco. Meanwhile the song was sung\na third time. _T\u00e2 tai t\u00f4m_ had left the lips of the singer; and,\nbefore _tadingana_ was out of them, the traders separated into parties\nof three, and each party pounced upon a thief. The remaining one--the\nleader himself--tore up into long narrow strips a large piece of\ncloth, six cubits long, and tied the hands and feet of the robbers.\nThese were entirely humbled now, and rolled on the ground like three\nbags of rice!\n\nThe ten traders now took back all their property, and armed themselves\nwith the swords and cudgels of their enemies; and when they reached\ntheir village, they often amused their friends and relatives by\nrelating their adventure.\n\n\n\n\nRaja Rasalu.\n\n\nOnce there lived a great Raja, whose name was Salabhan, and he had a\nQueen, by name Lona, who, though she wept and prayed at many a shrine,\nhad never a child to gladden her eyes. After a long time, however, a\nson was promised to her.\n\nQueen Lona returned to the palace, and when the time for the birth of\nthe promised son drew nigh, she inquired of three Jogis who came\nbegging to her gate, what the child's fate would be, and the youngest\nof them answered and said, \"Oh, 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 do;\nas 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\nRasalu, 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 sword, spear, and\nshield, against the day when Raja Rasalu 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\nYoung Rasalu 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 Arab horse Bhaunr, put on his shining armour, and\nrode forth into the world; but mindful of what his nurses had oft told\nhim, when he came to the river, he dismounted, and, going into the\nwater, 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\nawhile 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\nvessels, and broke them all. Then the women, drenched with water,\nwent weeping and wailing to the palace, complaining to the King that a\nmighty young Prince in shining armour, with a parrot on his wrist and\na gallant steed beside him, sat by the well, and broke their pitchers.\n\nNow, as soon as Rajah Salabhan heard this, he guessed at once that it\nwas Prince Rasalu come forth before the time, and, mindful of the\nJogis' 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 take pitchers of iron and brass, giving new ones from\nhis treasury to those who did not possess any of their own.\n\nBut when Prince Rasalu 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, so he mounted his steed and\nset 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 Salabhan, in fear of his\nlife, turned his back hastily and said never a word in reply.\n\nThen Prince Rasalu 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 away, full of bitterness and anger; but, as he passed\nunder the palace windows, he heard his mother weeping, and the sound\nsoftened 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    \"Oh heart crown'd with grief, hast thou nought\n      But tears for thy son?\n    Art mother of mine?  Give one thought\n      To my life just begun!\"\n\nAnd Queen Lona 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 Rasalu was comforted, and began to make ready for fortune. He\ntook with him his horse Bhaunr and his parrot, both of whom had lived\nwith him since he was born.\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    \"Oh! 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\nRasalu had started off to play chaupur with King Sarkap. And as he\njourneyed there came a fierce storm of thunder and lightning, so that\nhe 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 Rasalu, 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 Rasalu.\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 shroud,\n      Oh 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 Rasalu sat in the\ngraveyard and talked to the headless corpse. Now when morning broke\nand Rasalu said he must continue his journey, the headless corpse\nasked him whither he was going, and when he said \"to play chaupur with\nKing Sarkap,\" the corpse begged him to give up the idea saying, \"I am\nKing Sarkap's brother, and I know his ways. Every day, before\nbreakfast, he cuts off the heads of two or three men, just to amuse\nhimself. One day no one else was at hand, so he cut off mine, and he\nwill surely cut off yours on some pretence or another. However, if you\nare determined to go and play chaupur with him, take some of the bones\nfrom this graveyard, and make your dice out of them, and then the\nenchanted dice with which my brother plays will lose their virtue.\nOtherwise he will always win.\"\n\nSo Rasalu 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 King.\n\nNow, as Raja Rasalu, tender-hearted and strong, journeyed along to\nplay chaupur with the King, he came to a burning forest, and a voice\nrose from the fire saying, \"Oh, traveller! for God's sake save me from\nthe fire!\"\n\nThen the Prince turned towards the burning forest, and, lo! the voice\nwas the voice of a tiny cricket. Nevertheless, Rasalu, 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 _me_?\"\nNevertheless, 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\nIraqi, 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 Rasalu 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, oh 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 Rasalu gaily, \"give me my task and I will\nperform it.\"\n\nSo the sixty-nine maidens mixed a hundred-weight of millet seed with a\nhundred-weight of sand, and giving it to Rasalu, 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 amongst them the cricket whose life he had saved.\n\nThen Rasalu 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\nRasalu 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 swinging\ngirls! Why, by the time I have given each of you a swing, the first\nwill be wanting another! No! if you want a swing, get in, all seventy\nof you, into one swing, and then I'll see what can be done.\"\n\nSo the seventy maidens climbed into one swing, and Raja Rasalu,\nstanding in his shining armour, fastened the ropes to his mighty bow,\nand drew it up to its fullest bent. Then he let go, and like an arrow\nthe swing shot into the air, with its burden of seventy fair maidens,\nmerry and careless, full of smiles and laughter.\n\nBut as it swung back again, Rasalu, 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 Rasalu, for she fell out last, on the top of the others, and so\ncame to no harm.\n\nAfter this, Rasalu strode on fifteen paces, till he came to the\nseventy drums, that every one who came to play chaupur with the King\nhad to beat in turn; and he beat them so loudly that he broke them\nall. Then he came to the seventy gongs, all in a row, and he hammered\nthem 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 Rasalu's renown. And learning that he was\nstopping at the house of an old woman in the city, till the hour for\nplaying chaupur arrived, Sarkap sent slaves to him with trays of\nsweetmeats and fruit, as to an honoured guest. But the food was\npoisoned.\n\nNow when the slaves brought the trays to Raja Rasalu, 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 slave, and lo! the dog died.\n\nThen Rasalu was very wroth, and said bitterly, \"Go back to Sarkap,\nslaves! and tell him that Rasalu deems it no act of bravery to kill\neven an enemy by treachery.\"\n\nNow, when evening came, Raja Rasalu went forth to play chaupur with\nKing 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 Rasalu, 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 Rasalu, having\nsearched all the pots, restored the kittens to their mother, and she,\nin gratitude for his mercy, gave him one of them, saying, \"Put it in\nyour pocket, for it will help you when you are in difficulties.\" So\nRaja Rasalu put the kitten in his pocket, and went to play chaupur\nwith 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 Rasalu\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 Rasalu'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, besides which, Sarkap let loose his\nfamous rat, Dhol Raja, and it ran about the board, upsetting the\nchaupur pieces on the sly, so that Rasalu lost the first game, and\ngave up his shining armour.\n\nThen the second game began, and once more Dhol Raja, the rat, upset\nthe pieces; and Rasalu, losing the game, gave up his faithful steed.\nThen Bhaunr, the Arab steed, who stood by, found voice, and cried to\nhis master,\n\n        \"Sea-born am I, bought with much 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,\nthe Arab steed, since he gave his master advice in the game. Now, when\nthe slaves came to lead the faithful steed away, Rasalu could\nnot refrain from tears, thinking over the long years during which\nBhaunr, the Arab steed, had been his companion. But the horse cried\nout 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\n[Illustration: Raja Rasalu plays chaupur with Raja Sarkap.]\n\nThese words roused some recollection in Rasalu's mind, and when, just\nat this moment, the kitten in his pocket began to struggle, he\nremembered all about the warning, and the dice made from dead men's\nbones. Then his heart rose up once more, and he called boldly to Raja\nSarkap, \"Leave my horse and arms here for the present. Time enough to\ntake them away when you have won my head!\"\n\nNow, Raja Sarkap, seeing Rasalu'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 Rasalu, 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 Rasalu was winning, called to his\nrat, but when Dhol Raja saw the kitten he was afraid, and would not go\nfurther. So Rasalu won, and took back his arms. Next he played for his\nhorse, and once more Raja Sarkap called for his rat; but Dhol Raja,\nseeing the kitten keeping watch, was afraid. So Rasalu won the second\nstake, and took back Bhaunr, the Arab steed.\n\nThen Sarkap brought all his skill to bear on the third and last game,\nsaying,\n\n    \"Oh 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 Rasalu answered back,\n\n    \"Oh 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 Rasalu rose up in his shining armour, tender-hearted and strong,\nsaying, \"Not so, oh 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\nchaupur 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 Rasalu.\n\nNow, as he left the palace, carrying with him the new-born babe and\nthe mango branch, he met a band of prisoners, and they called out to\nhim,\n\n    \"A royal hawk art thou, oh King! the rest\n    But timid wild-fowl.  Grant us our request,--\n    Unloose these chains, and live for ever blest!\"\n\nAnd Raja Rasalu hearkened to them, and bade King Sarkap set them at\nliberty.\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\nRasalu married the Princess Kokilan, whom he won from Sarkap when he\nplayed chaupur with the King.\n\n\n\n\nThe Ass in the Lion's Skin\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nAt the same time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the\nfuture Buddha was born one of a peasant family; and when he grew up,\nhe gained his living by tilling the ground.\n\nAt that time a hawker used to go from place to place, trafficking in\ngoods carried by an ass. Now at each place he came to, when he took\nthe pack down from the ass's back, he used to clothe him in a lion's\nskin, and turn him loose in the rice and barley fields. And when the\nwatchmen in the fields saw the ass, they dared not go near him, taking\nhim for a lion.\n\nSo one day the hawker stopped in a village; and whilst he was getting\nhis own breakfast cooked, he dressed the ass in a lion's skin, and\nturned him loose in a barley-field. The watchmen in the field dared\nnot go up to him; but going home, they published the news. Then all\nthe villagers came out with weapons in their hands; and blowing\nchanks, and beating drums, they went near the field and shouted.\nTerrified with the fear of death, the ass uttered a cry--the bray of\nan ass!\n\nAnd when he knew him then to be an ass, the future Buddha pronounced\nthe First Verse:\n\n    \"This is not a lion's roaring,\n    Nor a tiger's, nor a panther's;\n    Dressed in a lion's skin,\n      'Tis a wretched ass that roars!\"\n\nBut when the villagers knew the creature to be an ass, they beat him\ntill his bones broke; and, carrying off the lion's skin, went away.\nThen the hawker came; and seeing the ass fallen into so bad a plight,\npronounced the Second Verse:\n\n    \"Long might the ass,\n    Clad in a lion's skin,\n    Have fed on the barley green.\n    But he brayed!\n      And that moment he came to ruin.\"\n\nAnd even whilst he was yet speaking the ass died on the spot!\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\nmoney-lender rich. At the last, when he hadn't a farthing left, farmer\nwent to the money-lender'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 Brahman, and to him he gave a cake, asking him to point\nout the road to Ram; but the Brahman only took the cake and went on\nhis way without a word. Next the farmer met a Jogi 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! What do\nyou 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 the conch.\n\nBut, after nearly bursting himself with blowing the conch 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, coolly, \"Look here; 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. Business is at\na stand-still 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[Illustration:]\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 you\nwant, 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, so that he had no satisfaction out of\nanything.\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 money-lender\nhad two!_--two beautiful new wells! This was too much for any farmer\nto stand; and our friend brooded over it, and brooded over it, till at\nlast a bright idea came into his head. He seized the conch, blew it\nloudly, and cried out, \"Oh, Ram! I wish to be blind of one eye!\" And\nso he was, in a twinkling, but the money-lender of course was blind of\nboth, and in trying to steer his way between the two new wells, he\nfell 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 Boy who had a Moon on his Forehead and a Star on his Chin\n\n\nIn a country were seven daughters of poor parents, who used to come\ndaily to play under the shady trees in the King's garden with the\ngardener's daughter; and daily she used to say to them, \"When I am\nmarried I shall have a son. Such a beautiful boy as he will be has\nnever been seen. He will have a moon on his forehead and a star on his\nchin.\" Then her playfellows used to laugh at her and mock her.\n\nBut one day the King heard her telling them about the beautiful boy\nshe would have when she was married, and he said to himself he should\nlike very much to have such a son; the more so that though he had\nalready four Queens he had no child. He went, therefore, to the\ngardener and told him he wished to marry his daughter. This delighted\nthe gardener and his wife, who thought it would indeed be grand for\ntheir daughter to become a princess. So they said \"Yes\" to the King,\nand invited all their friends to the wedding. The King invited all\nhis, and he gave the gardener as much money as he wanted. Then the\nwedding was held with great feasting and rejoicing.\n\nA year later the day drew near on which the gardener's daughter was to\nhave her son; and the King's four other Queens came constantly to see\nher. One day they said to her, \"The King hunts every day; and the time\nis soon coming when you will have your child. Suppose you fell ill\nwhilst he was out hunting and could therefore know nothing of your\nillness, what would you do then?\"\n\nWhen the King came home that evening, the gardener's daughter said to\nhim, \"Every day you go out hunting. Should I ever be in trouble or\nsick while you are away, how could I send for you?\" The King gave her\na kettle-drum which he placed near the door for her, and he said to\nher, \"Whenever you want me, beat this kettle-drum. No matter how far\naway I may be, I shall hear it, and will come at once to you.\"\n\nNext morning when the King had gone out to hunt, his four other Queens\ncame to see the gardener's daughter. She told them all about her\nkettle-drum. \"Oh,\" they said, \"do drum on it just to see if the King\nreally will come to you.\"\n\n\"No, I will not,\" she said; \"for why should I call him from his\nhunting when I do not want him?\"\n\n\"Don't mind interrupting his hunting,\" they answered. \"Do try if he\nreally will come to you when you beat your kettle-drum.\" So at last,\njust to please them, she beat it, and the King stood before her.\n\n\"Why have you called me?\" he said. \"See, I have left my hunting to\ncome to you.\"\n\n\"I want nothing,\" she answered; \"I only wished to know if you really\nwould come to me when I beat my drum.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered the King; \"but do not call me again unless you\nreally need me.\" Then he returned to his hunting.\n\nThe next day, when the King had gone out hunting as usual, the four\nQueens again came to see the gardener's daughter. They begged and\nbegged her to beat her drum once more, \"just to see if the King will\nreally come to see you this time.\" At first she refused, but at last\nshe consented. So she beat her drum, and the King came to her. But\nwhen he found she was neither ill nor in trouble, he was angry, and\nsaid to her, \"Twice I have left my hunting and lost my game to come to\nyou when you did not need me. Now you may call me as much as you like,\nbut I will not come to you,\" and then he went away in a rage.\n\nThe third day the gardener's daughter fell ill, and she beat and beat\nher kettle-drum; but the King never came. He heard her kettle-drum,\nbut he thought, \"She does not really want me; she is only trying to\nsee if I will go to her.\"\n\nMeanwhile the four other Queens came to her, and they said, \"Here it\nis the custom before a child is born to bind its mother's eyes with a\nhandkerchief that she may not see it just at first. So let us bind\nyour eyes.\" She answered, \"Very well, bind my eyes.\" The four wives\nthen tied a handkerchief over them.\n\nSoon after, the gardener's daughter had a beautiful little son, with a\nmoon on his forehead and a star on his chin, and before the poor\nmother had seen him, the four wicked Queens took the boy to the nurse\nand said to her, \"Now you must not let this child make the least sound\nfor fear his mother should hear him; and in the night you must either\nkill him, or else take him away, so that his mother may never see him.\nIf you obey our orders, we will give you a great many rupees.\" All\nthis they did out of spite. The nurse took the little child and put\nhim into a box, and the four Queens went back to the gardener's\ndaughter.\n\nFirst they put a stone into her boy's little bed, and then they took\nthe handkerchief off her eyes and showed it her, saying, \"Look! this\nis your son!\" The poor girl cried bitterly, and thought, \"What will\nthe King say when he finds no child?\" But she could do nothing.\n\nWhen the King came home, he was furious at hearing his youngest wife,\nthe gardener's daughter, had given him a stone instead of the\nbeautiful little son she had promised him. He made her one of the\npalace servants, and never spoke to her.\n\nIn the middle of the night the nurse took the box in which was the\nbeautiful little prince, and went out to a broad plain in the jungle.\nThere she dug a hole, made the fastenings of the box sure, and put the\nbox into the hole, although the child in it was still alive. The\nKing's dog, whose name was Shankar, had followed her to see what she\ndid with the box. As soon as she had gone back to the four Queens (who\ngave her a great many rupees), the dog went to the hole in which she\nhad put the box, took the box out, and opened it. When he saw the\nbeautiful little boy, he was very much delighted and said, \"If it\npleases Khuda that this child should live, I will not hurt him; I will\nnot eat him, but I will swallow him whole and hide him in my stomach.\"\nThis he did.\n\nAfter six months had passed, the dog went by night to the jungle, and\nthought, \"I wonder whether the boy is alive or dead.\" Then he brought\nthe child out of his stomach and rejoiced over his beauty. The boy was\nnow six months old. When Shankar had caressed and loved him, he\nswallowed him again for another six months. At the end of that time he\nwent once more by night to the broad jungle-plain. There he brought up\nthe child out of his stomach (the child was now a year old), and\ncaressed and petted him a great deal, and was made very happy by his\ngreat beauty.\n\nBut this time the dog's keeper had followed and watched the dog; and\nhe saw all that Shankar did, and the beautiful little child, so he ran\nto the four Queens and said to them, \"Inside the King's dog there is a\nchild! the loveliest child! He has a moon on his forehead and a star\non his chin. Such a child has never been seen!\" At this the four wives\nwere very much frightened, and as soon as the King came home from\nhunting they said to him, \"While you were away your dog came to our\nrooms, and tore our clothes and knocked about all our things. We are\nafraid he will kill us.\" \"Do not be afraid,\" said the King. \"Eat your\ndinner and be happy. I will have the dog shot to-morrow morning.\"\n\nThen he ordered his servants to shoot the dog at dawn, but the dog\nheard him, and said to himself, \"What shall I do? The King intends to\nkill me. I don't care about that, but what will become of the child if\nI am killed? He will die. But I will see if I cannot save him.\"\n\nSo when it was night, the dog ran to the King's cow, who was called\nSuri, and said to her, \"Suri, I want to give you something, for the\nKing has ordered me to be shot to-morrow. Will you take great care of\nwhatever I give you?\"\n\n\"Let me see what it is,\" said Suri, \"I will take care of it if I\ncan.\" Then they both went together to the wide plain, and there the\ndog brought up the boy. Suri was enchanted with him. \"I never saw such\na beautiful child in this country,\" she said. \"See, he has a moon on\nhis forehead and a star on his chin. I will take the greatest care of\nhim.\" So saying she swallowed the little prince. The dog made her a\ngreat many salaams, and said, \"To-morrow I shall die;\" and the cow\nthen went back to her stable.\n\nNext morning at dawn the dog was taken to the jungle and shot.\n\nThe child now lived in Suri's stomach; and when one whole year had\npassed, and he was two years old, the cow went out to the plain, and\nsaid to herself, \"I do not know whether the child is alive or dead.\nBut I have never hurt it, so I will see.\" Then she brought up the boy;\nand he played about, and Suri was delighted; she loved him and\ncaressed him, and talked to him. Then she swallowed him, and returned\nto her stable.\n\nAt the end of another year she went again to the plain and brought up\nthe child. He played and ran about for an hour to her great delight,\nand she talked to him and caressed him. His great beauty made her very\nhappy. Then she swallowed him once more and returned to her stable.\nThe child was now three years old.\n\nBut this time the cowherd had followed Suri, and had seen the\nwonderful child and all she did to it. So he ran and told the four\nQueens, \"The King's cow has a beautiful boy inside her. He has a moon\non his forehead and a star on his chin. Such a child has never been\nseen before!\"\n\nAt this the Queens were terrified. They tore their clothes and their\nhair and cried. When the King came home at evening, he asked them why\nthey were so agitated. \"Oh,\" they said, \"your cow came and tried to\nkill us; but we ran away. She tore our hair and our clothes.\" \"Never\nmind,\" said the King. \"Eat your dinner and be happy. The cow shall be\nkilled to-morrow morning.\"\n\nNow Suri heard the King give this order to the servants, so she said\nto herself, \"What shall I do to save the child?\" When it was midnight,\nshe went to the King's horse called Katar, who was very wicked, and\nquite untameable. No one had ever been able to ride him; indeed no one\ncould go near him with safety, he was so savage. Suri said to this\nhorse, \"Katar, will you take care of something that I want to give\nyou, because the King has ordered me to be killed to-morrow?\"\n\n\"Good,\" said Katar; \"show me what it is.\" Then Suri brought up the\nchild, and the horse was delighted with him. \"Yes,\" he said, \"I will\ntake the greatest care of him. Till now no one has been able to ride\nme, but this child shall ride me.\" Then he swallowed the boy, and when\nhe had done so, the cow made him many salaams, saying, \"It is for this\nboy's sake that I am to die.\" The next morning she was taken to the\njungle and there killed.\n\nThe beautiful boy now lived in the horse's stomach, and he stayed in\nit for one whole year. At the end of that time the horse thought, \"I\nwill see if this child is alive or dead.\" So he brought him up; and\nthen he loved him, and petted him, and the little prince played all\nabout the stable, out of which the horse was never allowed to go.\nKatar was very glad to see the child, who was now four years old.\nAfter he had played for some time, the horse swallowed him again. At\nthe end of another year, when the boy was five years old, Katar\nbrought him up again, caressed him, loved him, and let him play about\nthe stable as he had done a year before. Then the horse swallowed him\nagain.\n\nBut this time the groom had seen all that happened, and when it was\nmorning, and the King had gone away to his hunting, he went to the\nfour wicked Queens, and told them all he had seen, and all about the\nwonderful, beautiful child that lived inside the King's horse Katar.\nOn hearing the groom's story the four Queens cried, and tore their\nhair and clothes, and refused to eat. When the King returned at\nevening and asked them why they were so miserable, they said, \"Your\nhorse Katar came and tore our clothes, and upset all our things, and\nwe ran away for fear he should kill us.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the King. \"Only eat your dinner and be happy. I\nwill have Katar shot to-morrow.\" Then he thought that two men unaided\ncould not kill such a wicked horse, so he ordered his servants to bid\nhis troop of sepoys shoot him.\n\nSo the next day the King placed his sepoys all round the stable, and\nhe took up his stand with them; and he said he would himself shoot any\none who let his horse escape.\n\nMeanwhile the horse had overheard all these orders. So he brought up\nthe child and said to him, \"Go into that little room that leads out of\nthe stable, and you will find in it a saddle and bridle which you must\nput on me. Then you will find in the room some beautiful clothes such\nas princes wear; these you must put on yourself; and you must take the\nsword and gun you will find there too. Then you must mount on my\nback.\" Now Katar was a fairy-horse, and came from the fairies'\ncountry, so he could get anything he wanted; but neither the King nor\nany of his people knew this. When all was ready, Katar burst out of\nhis stable, with the prince on his back, rushed past the King himself\nbefore the King had time to shoot him, galloped away to the great\njungle-plain, and galloped about all over it. The King saw his horse\nhad a boy on his back, though he could not see the boy distinctly. The\nsepoys tried in vain to shoot the horse; he galloped much too fast;\nand at last they were all scattered over the plain. Then the King had\nto give it up and go home; and the sepoys went to their homes. The\nKing could not shoot any of his sepoys for letting his horse escape,\nfor he himself had let him do so.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThen Katar galloped away, on, and on, and on; and when night came they\nstayed under a tree, he and the King's son. The horse ate grass, and\nthe boy wild fruits which he found in the jungle. Next morning they\nstarted afresh, and went far, and far, till they came to a jungle in\nanother country, which did not belong to the little prince's father,\nbut to another king. Here Katar said to the boy, \"Now get off my\nback.\" Off jumped the prince. \"Unsaddle me and take off my bridle;\ntake off your beautiful clothes and tie them all up in a bundle with\nyour sword and gun.\" This the boy did. Then the horse gave him some\npoor, common clothes, which he told him to put on. As soon as he was\ndressed in them the horse said, \"Hide your bundle in this grass, and I\nwill take care of it for you. I will always stay in this jungle-plain,\nso that when you want me you will always find me. You must now go away\nand find service with some one in this country.\"\n\nThis made the boy very sad. \"I know nothing about anything,\" he said.\n\"What shall I do all alone in this country?\"\n\n\"Do not be afraid,\" answered Katar. \"You will find service, and I will\nalways stay here to help you when you want me. So go, only before you\ngo, twist my right ear.\" The boy did so, and his horse instantly\nbecame a donkey. \"Now twist your right ear,\" said Katar. And when the\nboy had twisted it, he was no longer a handsome prince, but a poor,\ncommon-looking, ugly man; and his moon and star were hidden.\n\nThen he went away further into the country, until he came to a grain\nmerchant of the country, who asked him who he was. \"I am a poor man,\"\nanswered the boy, \"and I want service.\" \"Good,\" said the grain\nmerchant, \"you shall be my servant.\"\n\nNow the grain merchant lived near the King's palace, and one night at\ntwelve o'clock the boy was very hot; so he went out into the King's\ncool garden, and began to sing a lovely song. The seventh and youngest\ndaughter of the King heard him, and she wondered who it was who could\nsing so deliciously. Then she put on her clothes, rolled up her hair,\nand came down to where the seemingly poor common man was lying\nsinging. \"Who are you? where do you come from?\" she asked.\n\nBut he answered nothing.\n\n\"Who is this man who does not answer when I speak to him?\" thought the\nlittle princess, and she went away. On the second night the same thing\nhappened, and on the third night too. But on the third night, when she\nfound she could not make him answer her, she said to him, \"What a\nstrange man you are not to answer me when I speak to you.\" But still\nhe remained silent, so she went away.\n\nThe next day, when he had finished his work, the young prince went to\nthe jungle to see his horse, who asked him, \"Are you quite well and\nhappy?\" \"Yes, I am,\" answered the boy. \"I am servant to a grain\nmerchant. The last three nights I have gone into the King's garden and\nsung a song, and each night the youngest princess has come to me and\nasked me who I am, and whence I came, and I have answered nothing.\nWhat shall I do now?\" The horse said, \"Next time she asks you who you\nare, tell her you are a very poor man, and came from your own country\nto find service here.\"\n\nThe boy then went home to the grain merchant, and at night, when every\none had gone to bed, he went to the King's garden and sang his sweet\nsong again. The youngest princess heard him, got up, dressed, and came\nto him. \"Who are you? Whence do you come?\" she asked.\n\n[Illustration: THE BOY WITH THE MOON ON HIS FOREHEAD]\n\n\"I am a very poor man,\" he answered. \"I came from my own country to\nseek service here, and I am now one of the grain merchant's servants.\"\nThen she went away. For three more nights the boy sang in the King's\ngarden, and each night the princess came and asked him the same\nquestions as before, and the boy gave her the same answers.\n\nThen she went to her father, and said to him, \"Father, I wish to be\nmarried; but I must choose my husband myself.\" Her father consented to\nthis, and he wrote and invited all the Kings and Rajas in the land,\nsaying, \"My youngest daughter wishes to be married, but she insists on\nchoosing her husband herself. As I do not know who it is she wishes to\nmarry, I beg you will all come on a certain day, for her to see you\nand make her choice.\"\n\nA great many Kings, Rajas, and their sons accepted this invitation and\ncame. When they had all arrived, the little princess's father said to\nthem, \"To-morrow morning you must all sit together in my garden\" (the\nKing's garden was very large), \"for then my youngest daughter will\ncome and see you all, and choose her husband. I do not know whom she\nwill choose.\"\n\nThe youngest princess ordered a grand elephant to be ready for her the\nnext morning, and when the morning came, and all was ready, she\ndressed herself in the most lovely clothes, and put on her beautiful\njewels; then she mounted her elephant, which was painted blue. In her\nhand she took a gold necklace.\n\nThen she went into the garden where the Kings, Rajas, and their sons\nwere seated. The boy, the grain merchant's servant, was also in the\ngarden: not as a suitor, but looking on with the other servants.\n\nThe princess rode all round the garden, and looked at all the Kings\nand Rajas and princes, and then she hung the gold necklace round the\nneck of the boy, the grain merchant's servant. At this everybody\nlaughed, and the Kings were greatly astonished. But then they and the\nRajas said, \"What fooling is this?\" and they pushed the pretended poor\nman away, and took the necklace off his neck, and said to him, \"Get\nout of the way, you poor, dirty man. Your clothes are far too dirty\nfor you to come near us!\" The boy went far away from them, and stood a\nlong way off to see what would happen.\n\nThen the King's youngest daughter went all round the garden again,\nholding her gold necklace in her hand, and once more she hung it round\nthe boy's neck. Every one laughed at her and said, \"How can the King's\ndaughter think of marrying this poor, common man!\" and the Kings and\nthe Rajas, who had come as suitors, all wanted to turn him out of the\ngarden. But the princess said, \"Take care! take care! You must not\nturn him out. Leave him alone.\" Then she put him on her elephant, and\ntook him to the palace.\n\nThe Kings and Rajas and their sons were very much astonished, and\nsaid, \"What does this mean? The princess does not care to marry one of\nus, but chooses that very poor man!\" Her father then stood up, and\nsaid to them all, \"I promised my daughter she should marry any one she\npleased, and as she has twice chosen that poor, common man, she shall\nmarry him.\" And so the princess and the boy were married with great\npomp and splendour: her father and mother were quite content with her\nchoice; and the Kings, the Rajas and their sons, all returned to their\nhomes.\n\nNow the princess's six sisters had all married rich princes, and they\nlaughed at her for choosing such a poor ugly husband as hers seemed to\nbe, and said to each other, mockingly, \"See! our sister has married\nthis poor, common man!\" Their six husbands used to go out hunting\nevery day, and every evening they brought home quantities of all kinds\nof game to their wives, and the game was cooked for their dinner and\nfor the King's; but the husband of the youngest princess always stayed\nat home in the palace, and never went out hunting at all. This made\nher very sad, and she said to herself, \"My sisters' husbands hunt\nevery day, but my husband never hunts at all.\"\n\nAt last she said to him, \"Why do you never go out hunting as my\nsisters' husbands do every day, and every day they bring home\nquantities of all kinds of game? Why do you always stay at home,\ninstead of doing as they do?\"\n\nOne day he said to her, \"I am going out to-day to eat the air.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" she answered; \"go, and take one of the horses.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the young prince, \"I will not ride, I will walk.\" Then he\nwent to the jungle-plain where he had left Katar, who all this time\nhad seemed to be a donkey, and he told Katar everything. \"Listen,\" he\nsaid; \"I have married the youngest princess; and when we were married\neverybody laughed at her for choosing me, and said, 'What a very poor,\ncommon man our princess has chosen for her husband!' Besides, my wife\nis very sad, for her six sisters' husbands all hunt every day, and\nbring home quantities of game, and their wives therefore are very\nproud of them. But I stay at home all day, and never hunt. To-day I\nshould like to hunt very much.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Katar, \"then twist my left ear;\" and as soon as the boy\nhad twisted it, Katar was a horse again, and not a donkey any longer.\n\"Now,\" said Katar, \"twist your left ear, and you will see what a\nbeautiful young prince you will become.\" So the boy twisted his own\nleft ear, and there he stood no longer a poor, common, ugly man, but a\ngrand young prince with a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin.\nThen he put on his splendid clothes, saddled and bridled Katar, got on\nhis back with his sword and gun, and rode off to hunt.\n\nHe rode very far, and shot a great many birds and a quantity of deer.\nThat day his six brothers-in-law could find no game, for the beautiful\nyoung prince had shot it all. Nearly all the day long these six\nprinces wandered about looking in vain for game; till at last they\ngrew hungry and thirsty, and could find no water, and they had no food\nwith them. Meanwhile the beautiful young prince had sat down under a\ntree, to dine and rest, and there his six brothers-in-law found him.\nBy his side was some delicious water, and also some roast meat.\n\nWhen they saw him the six princes said to each other, \"Look at that\nhandsome prince. He has a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin.\nWe have never seen such a prince in this jungle before; he must come\nfrom another country.\" Then they came up to him, and made him many\nsalaams, and begged him to give them some food and water. \"Who are\nyou?\" said the young prince. \"We are the husbands of the six elder\ndaughters of the King of this country,\" they answered; \"and we have\nhunted all day, and are very hungry and thirsty.\" They did not\nrecognise their brother-in-law in the least.\n\n\"Well,\" said the young prince, \"I will give you something to eat and\ndrink if you will do as I bid you.\" \"We will do all you tell us to\ndo,\" they answered, \"for if we do not get water to drink, we shall\ndie.\" \"Very good,\" said the young prince. \"Now you must let me put a\nred-hot pice on the back of each of you, and then I will give you food\nand water. Do you agree to this?\" The six princes consented, for they\nthought, \"No one will ever see the mark of the pice, as it will be\ncovered by our clothes; and we shall die if we have no water to\ndrink.\" Then the young prince took six pice, and made them red-hot in\nthe fire; he laid one on the back of each of the six princes, and gave\nthem good food and water. They ate and drank; and when they had\nfinished they made him many salaams and went home.\n\nThe young prince stayed under the tree till it was evening; then he\nmounted his horse and rode off to the King's palace. All the people\nlooked at him as he came riding along, saying, \"What a splendid young\nprince that is! He has a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin.\"\nBut no one recognised him. When he came near the King's palace, all\nthe King's servants asked him who he was; and as none of them knew\nhim, the gate-keepers would not let him pass in. They all wondered who\nhe could be, and all thought him the most beautiful prince that had\never been seen.\n\nAt last they asked him who he was. \"I am the husband of your youngest\nprincess,\" he answered.\n\n\"No, no, indeed you are not,\" they said; \"for he is a poor,\ncommon-looking, and ugly man.\"\n\n\"But I am he,\" answered the prince; only no one would believe him.\n\n\"Tell us the truth,\" said the servants; \"who are you?\"\n\n\"Perhaps you cannot recognise me,\" said the young prince, \"but call\nthe youngest princess here. I wish to speak to her.\" The servants\ncalled her, and she came. \"That man is not my husband,\" she said at\nonce. \"My husband is not nearly as handsome as that man. This must be\na prince from another country.\"\n\nThen she said to him, \"Who are you? Why do you say you are my\nhusband?\"\n\n\"Because I am your husband. I am telling you the truth,\" answered the\nyoung prince.\n\n\"No you are not, you are not telling me the truth,\" said the little\nprincess. \"My husband is not a handsome man like you. I married a very\npoor, common-looking man.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" he answered, \"but nevertheless I am your husband. I\nwas the grain merchant's servant; and one hot night I went into your\nfather's garden and sang, and you heard me, and came and asked me who\nI was and where I came from, and I would not answer you. And the same\nthing happened the next night, and the next, and on the fourth I told\nyou I was a very poor man, and had come from my country to seek\nservice in yours, and that I was the grain merchant's servant. Then\nyou told your father you wished to marry, but must choose your own\nhusband; and when all the Kings and Rajas were seated in your father's\ngarden, you sat on an elephant and went round and looked at them all;\nand then twice hung your gold necklace round my neck, and chose me.\nSee, here is your necklace, and here are the ring and the handkerchief\nyou gave me on our wedding day.\"\n\nThen she believed him, and was very glad that her husband was such a\nbeautiful young prince. \"What a strange man you are!\" she said to\nhim. \"Till now you have been poor, and ugly, and common-looking. Now\nyou are beautiful and look like a prince; I never saw such a handsome\nman as you are before; and yet I know you must be my husband.\" Then\nshe worshipped God and thanked him for letting her have such a\nhusband. \"I have,\" she said, \"a beautiful husband. There is no one\nlike him in this country. He has a moon on his forehead and a star on\nhis chin.\" Then she took him into the palace, and showed him to her\nfather and mother and to every one. They all said they had never seen\nany one like him, and were all very happy. And the young prince lived\nas before in the King's palace with his wife, and Katar lived in the\nKing's stables.\n\nOne day, when the King and his seven sons-in-law were in his\ncourt-house, and it was full of people, the young prince said to him,\n\"There are six thieves here in your court-house.\" \"Six thieves!\" said\nthe King. \"Where are they? Show them to me.\" \"There they are,\" said\nthe young prince, pointing to his six brothers-in-law. The King and\nevery one else in the court-house were very much astonished, and would\nnot believe the young prince. \"Take off their coats,\" he said, \"and\nthen you will see for yourselves that each of them has the mark of a\nthief on his back.\" So their coats were taken off the six princes, and\nthe King and everybody in the court-house saw the mark of the red-hot\npice. The six princes were very much ashamed, but the young prince was\nvery glad. He had not forgotten how his brothers-in-law had laughed at\nhim and mocked him when he seemed a poor, common man.\n\nNow, when Katar was still in the jungle, before the prince was\nmarried, he had told the boy the whole story of his birth, and all\nthat had happened to him and his mother. \"When you are married,\" he\nsaid to him, \"I will take you back to your father's country.\" So two\nmonths after the young prince had revenged himself on his\nbrothers-in-law, Katar said to him, \"It is time for you to return to\nyour father. Get the King to let you go to your own country, and I\nwill tell you what to do when we get there.\"\n\nThe prince always did what his horse told him to do; so he went to his\nwife and said to her, \"I wish very much to go to my own country to see\nmy father and mother.\" \"Very well,\" said his wife; \"I will tell my\nfather and mother, and ask them to let us go.\" Then she went to them,\nand told them, and they consented to let her and her husband leave\nthem. The King gave his daughter and the young prince a great many\nhorses, and elephants, and all sorts of presents, and also a great\nmany sepoys to guard them. In this grand state they travelled to the\nprince's country, which was not a great many miles off. When they\nreached it they pitched their tents on the same plain in which the\nprince had been left in his box by the nurse, where Shankar and Suri\nhad swallowed him so often.\n\nWhen the King, his father, the gardener's daughter's husband, saw the\nprince's camp, he was very much alarmed, and thought a great King had\ncome to make war on him. He sent one of his servants, therefore, to\nask whose camp it was. The young prince then wrote him a letter, in\nwhich he said, \"You are a great King. Do not fear me. I am not come to\nmake war on you. I am as if I were your son. I am a prince who has\ncome to see your country and to speak with you. I wish to give you a\ngrand feast, to which every one in your country must come--men and\nwomen, old and young, rich and poor, of all castes; all the children,\nfakirs, and sepoys. You must bring them all here to me for a week, and\nI will feast them all.\"\n\nThe King was delighted with this letter, and ordered all the men,\nwomen, and children of all castes, fakirs, and sepoys, in his country\nto go to the prince's camp to a grand feast the prince would give\nthem. So they all came, and the King brought his four wives too. All\ncame, at least all but the gardener's daughter. No one had told her to\ngo to the feast, for no one had thought of her.\n\nWhen all the people were assembled, the prince saw his mother was not\nthere, and he asked the King, \"Has every one in your country come to\nmy feast?\"\n\n\"Yes, every one,\" said the King.\n\n\"Are you sure of that?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"Quite sure,\" answered the King.\n\n\"I am sure one woman has not come,\" said the prince. \"She is your\ngardener's daughter, who was once your wife and is now a servant in\nyour palace.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the King, \"I had forgotten her.\" Then the prince told his\nservants to take his finest palanquin and to fetch the gardener's\ndaughter. They were to bathe her, dress her in beautiful clothes and\nhandsome jewels, and then bring her to him in the palanquin.\n\nWhile the servants were bringing the gardener's daughter, the King\nthought how handsome the young prince was; and he noticed particularly\nthe moon on his forehead and the star on his chin, and he wondered in\nwhat country the young prince was born.\n\nAnd now the palanquin arrived bringing the gardener's daughter, and\nthe young prince went himself and took her out of it, and brought her\ninto the tent. He made her a great many salaams. The four wicked wives\nlooked on and were very much surprised and very angry. They remembered\nthat, when they arrived, the prince had made them no salaams, and\nsince then had not taken the least notice of them; whereas he could\nnot do enough for the gardener's daughter, and seemed very glad to see\nher.\n\nWhen they were all at dinner, the prince again made the gardener's\ndaughter a great many salaams, and gave her food from all the nicest\ndishes. She wondered at his kindness to her, and thought, \"Who is this\nhandsome prince, with a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin? I\nnever saw any one so beautiful. What country does he come from?\"\n\nTwo or three days were thus passed in feasting, and all that time the\nKing and his people were talking about the prince's beauty, and\nwondering who he was.\n\nOne day the prince asked the King if he had any children. \"None,\" he\nanswered.\n\n\"Do you know who I am?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"No,\" said the King. \"Tell me who you are.\"\n\n\"I am your son,\" answered the prince, \"and the gardener's daughter is\nmy mother.\"\n\nThe King shook his head sadly. \"How can you be my son,\" he said, \"when\nI have never had any children?\"\n\n\"But I am your son,\" answered the prince. \"Your four wicked Queens\ntold you the gardener's daughter had given you a stone and not a son;\nbut it was they who put the stone in my little bed, and then they\ntried to kill me.\"\n\nThe King did not believe him. \"I wish you were my son,\" he said; \"but\nas I never had a child, you cannot be my son.\" \"Do you remember your\ndog Shankar, and how you had him killed? And do you remember your cow\nSuri, and how you had her killed too? Your wives made you kill them\nbecause of me. And,\" he said, taking the King to Katar, \"do you know\nwhose horse that is?\"\n\nThe King looked at Katar, and then said, \"That is my horse Katar.\"\n\"Yes,\" said the prince. \"Do you not remember how he rushed past you\nout of his stable with me on his back?\" Then Katar told the King the\nprince was really his son, and told him all the story of his birth,\nand of his life up to that moment; and when the King found the\nbeautiful prince was indeed his son, he was so glad, so glad. He put\nhis arms round him and kissed him and cried for joy.\n\n\"Now,\" said the King, \"you must come with me to my palace, and live\nwith me always.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the prince, \"that I cannot do. I cannot go to your palace.\nI only came here to fetch my mother; and now that I have found her, I\nwill take her with me to my father-in-law's palace. I have married a\nKing's daughter, and we live with her father.\"\n\n\"But now that I have found you, I cannot let you go,\" said his father.\n\"You and your wife must come and live with your mother and me in my\npalace.\"\n\n\"That we will never do,\" said the prince, \"unless you will kill your\nfour wicked Queens with your own hand. If you will do that, we will\ncome and live with you.\"\n\nSo the King killed his Queens, and then he and his wife, the\ngardener's daughter, and the prince and his wife, all went to live in\nthe King's palace, and lived there happily together for ever after;\nand the King thanked God for giving him such a beautiful son, and for\nridding him of his four wicked wives.\n\nKatar did not return to the fairies' country, but stayed always with\nthe young prince, and never left him.\n\n\n\n\nThe Prince and the Fakir\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a King who had no children. Now this King\nwent and laid him down to rest at a place where four roads met, so\nthat every one who passed had to step over him.\n\nAt last a Fakir came along, and he said to the King, \"Man, why are you\nlying here?\"\n\nHe replied, \"Fakir, a thousand men have come and passed by; you pass\non too.\"\n\nBut the Fakir said, \"Who are you, man?\"\n\nThe King replied, \"I am a King, Fakir. Of goods and gold I have no\nlack, but I have lived long and have no children. So I have come here,\nand have laid me down at the cross-roads. My sins and offences have\nbeen very many, so I have come and am lying here that men may pass\nover me, and perchance my sins may be forgiven me, and God may be\nmerciful, and I may have a son.\"\n\nThe Fakir answered him, \"Oh King! If you have children, what will you\ngive me?\"\n\n\"Whatever you ask, Fakir,\" answered the King.\n\nThe Fakir said, \"Of goods and gold I have no lack, but I will say a\nprayer for you, and you will have two sons; one of those sons will be\nmine.\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThen he took out two sweetmeats and handed them to the King, and said,\n\"King! take these two sweetmeats and give them to your wives; give\nthem to the wives you love best.\"\n\nThe King took the sweetmeats and put them in his bosom.\n\nThen the Fakir said, \"King! in a year I will return, and of the two\nsons who will be born to you one is mine and one yours.\"\n\nThe King said, \"Well, I agree.\"\n\nThen the Fakir went on his way, and the King came home and gave one\nsweetmeat to each of his two wives. After some time two sons were born\nto the King. Then what did the King do but place those two sons in an\nunderground room, which he had built in the earth.\n\nSome time passed, and one day the Fakir appeared, and said, \"King!\nbring me that son of yours!\"\n\nWhat did the King do but bring two slave-girls' sons and present them\nto the Fakir. While the Fakir was sitting there the King's sons were\nsitting down below in their cellar eating their food. Just then a\nhungry ant had carried away a grain of rice from their food, and was\ngoing along with it to her children. Another stronger ant came up and\nattacked her in order to get this grain of rice. The first ant said,\n\"O ant, why do you drag this away from me? I have long been lame in my\nfeet, and I have got just one grain, and am carrying it to my\nchildren. The King's sons are sitting in the cellar eating their food;\nyou go and fetch a grain from there; why should you take mine from\nme?\" On this the second ant let go and did not rob the first, but went\noff to where the King's sons were eating their food.\n\nOn hearing this the Fakir said, \"King! these are not your sons; go and\nbring those children who are eating their food in the cellar.\"\n\nThen the King went and brought his own sons. The Fakir chose the\neldest son and took him away, and set off with him on his journey.\nWhen he got home he told the King's son to go out to gather fuel.\n\nSo the King's son went out to gather cow-dung, and when he had\ncollected some he brought it in.\n\nThen the Fakir looked at the King's son and put on a great pot, and\nsaid, \"Come round here, my pupil.\"\n\nBut the King's son said, \"Master first, and pupil after.\"\n\nThe Fakir told him to come once, he told him twice, he told him three\ntimes, and each time the King's son answered, \"Master first, and pupil\nafter.\"\n\nThen the Fakir made a dash at the King's son, thinking to catch him\nand throw him into the caldron. There were about a hundred gallons of\noil in this caldron, and the fire was burning beneath it. Then the\nKing's son, lifting the Fakir, gave him a jerk and threw him into the\ncaldron, and he was burnt, and became roast meat. He then saw a key of\nthe Fakir's lying there; he took this key and opened the door of the\nFakir's house. Now many men were locked up in this house; two horses\nwere standing there in a hut of the Fakir's; two greyhounds were tied\nup there; two simurgs were imprisoned, and two tigers also stood\nthere. So the King's son let all the creatures go, and took them out\nof the house, and they all returned thanks to God. Next he let out all\nthe men who were in prison. He took away with him the two horses, and\nhe took away the two tigers, and he took away the two hounds, and he\ntook away the two simurgs, and with them he set out for another\ncountry.\n\nAs he went along the road he saw above him a bald man, grazing a herd\nof calves, and this bald man called out to him, \"Fellow! can you fight\nat all?\"\n\nThe King's son replied, \"When I was little I could fight a bit, and\nnow, if any one wants to fight, I am not so unmanly as to turn my\nback. Come, I will fight you.\"\n\nThe bald man said, \"If I throw you, you shall be my slave; and if you\nthrow me, I will be your slave.\" So they got ready and began to fight,\nand the King's son threw him.\n\nOn this the King's son said, \"I will leave my beasts here, my simurgs,\ntigers, and dogs, and horses; they will all stay here while I go to\nthe city to see the sights. I appoint the tiger as guard over my\nproperty. And you are my slave, you, too, must stay here with my\nbelongings.\" So the King's son started off to the city to see the\nsights, and arrived at a pool.\n\nHe saw that it was a pleasant pool, and thought he would stop and\nbathe there, and therewith he began to strip off his clothes.\n\nNow the King's daughter, who was sitting on the roof of the palace,\nsaw his royal marks, and she said, \"This man is a king; when I marry,\nI will marry him and no other.\" So she said to her father, \"My father;\nI wish to marry.\"\n\n\"Good,\" said her father.\n\nThen the King made a proclamation: \"Let all men, great and small,\nattend to-day in the hall of audience, for the King's daughter will\nto-day take a husband.\"\n\nAll the men of the land assembled, and the traveller Prince also came,\ndressed in the Fakir's clothes, saying to himself, \"I must see this\nceremony to-day.\" He went in and sat down.\n\nThe King's daughter came out and sat in the balcony, and cast her\nglance round all the assembly. She noticed that the traveller Prince\nwas sitting in the assembly in Fakir's attire.\n\nThe Princess said to her handmaiden, \"Take this dish of henna, go to\nthat traveller dressed like a Fakir, and sprinkle scent on him from\nthe dish.\"\n\nThe handmaiden obeyed the Princess's order, went to him, and sprinkled\nthe scent over him.\n\nThen the people said, \"The slave-girl has made a mistake.\"\n\nBut she replied, \"The slave-girl has made no mistake, 'tis her\nmistress has made the mistake.\"\n\nOn this the King married his daughter to the Fakir, who was really no\nFakir, but a Prince.\n\nWhat fate had decreed came to pass in that country, and they were\nmarried. But the King of that city became very sad in his heart,\nbecause when so many chiefs and nobles were sitting there his daughter\nhad chosen none of them, but had chosen that Fakir; but he kept these\nthoughts concealed in his heart.\n\nOne day the traveller Prince said, \"Let all the King's sons-in-law\ncome out with me to-day to hunt.\"\n\nPeople said, \"What is this Fakir that he should go a-hunting?\"\n\nHowever, they all set out for the hunt, and fixed their meeting-place\nat a certain pool.\n\nThe newly married Prince went to his tigers, and told his tigers and\nhounds to kill and bring in a great number of gazelles and hog-deer\nand markhor. Instantly they killed and brought in a great number. Then\ntaking with him these spoils of the chase, the Prince came to the pool\nsettled on as a meeting-place. The other Princes, sons-in-law of the\nKing of that city, also assembled there; but they had brought in no\ngame, and the new Prince had brought a great deal. Thence they\nreturned home to the town, and went to the King their father-in-law,\nto present their game.\n\nNow that King had no son. Then the new Prince told him that in fact\nhe, too, was a Prince. At this the King, his father-in-law, was\ngreatly delighted and took him by the hand and embraced him. He seated\nhim by himself, saying, \"O Prince, I return thanks that you have come\nhere and become my son-in-law; I am very happy at this, and I make\nover my kingdom to you.\"\n\n\n\n\nWhy the Fish Laughed.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nAs a certain fisherwoman passed by a palace crying her fish, the queen\nappeared at one of the windows and beckoned her to come near and show\nwhat she had. At that moment a very big fish jumped about in the\nbottom of the basket.\n\n\"Is it a he or a she?\" inquired the queen. \"I wish to purchase a she\nfish.\"\n\nOn hearing this the fish laughed aloud.\n\n\"It's a he,\" replied the fisherwoman, and proceeded on her rounds.\n\nThe queen returned to her room in a great rage; and on coming to see\nher in the evening, the king noticed that something had disturbed her.\n\n\"Are you indisposed?\" he said.\n\n\"No; but I am very much annoyed at the strange behaviour of a fish. A\nwoman brought me one to-day, and on my inquiring whether it was a male\nor female, the fish laughed most rudely.\"\n\n\"A fish laugh! Impossible! You must be dreaming.\"\n\n\"I am not a fool. I speak of what I have seen with my own eyes and\nhave heard with my own ears.\"\n\n\"Passing strange! Be it so. I will inquire concerning it.\"\n\nOn the morrow the king repeated to his vizier what his wife had told\nhim, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a\nsatisfactory answer within six months, on pain of death. The vizier\npromised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. For\nfive months he laboured indefatigably to find a reason for the\nlaughter of the fish. He sought everywhere and from every one. The\nwise and learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner\nof trickery, were consulted. Nobody, however, could explain the\nmatter; and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to\narrange his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had\nsufficient experience of the king to know that His Majesty would not\ngo back from his threat. Amongst other things, he advised his son to\ntravel for a time, until the king's anger should have somewhat cooled.\n\nThe young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off\nwhithersoever Kismat might lead him. He had been gone some days, when\nhe fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain\nvillage. Finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might\naccompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. The old\nfarmer agreed, and they walked along together. The day was hot, and\nthe way was long and weary.\n\n\"Don't you think it would be pleasanter if you and I sometimes gave\none another a lift?\" said the youth.\n\n\"What a fool the man is!\" thought the old farmer.\n\nPresently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle,\nand looking like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze.\n\n\"Is this eaten or not?\" said the young man.\n\nNot understanding his meaning, the old man replied, \"I don't know.\"\n\nAfter a little while the two travellers arrived at a big village,\nwhere the young man gave his companion a clasp-knife, and said, \"Take\nthis, friend, and get two horses with it; but mind and bring it back,\nfor it is very precious.\"\n\nThe old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the\nknife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a\nfool himself or else trying to play the fool with him. The young man\npretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till\nthey reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old\nfarmer's house. They walked about the bazaar and went to the mosque,\nbut nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest.\n\n\"What a large cemetery!\" exclaimed the young man.\n\n\"What does the man mean,\" thought the old farmer, \"calling this\nlargely populated city a cemetery?\"\n\nOn leaving the city their way led through a cemetery where a few\npeople were praying beside a grave and distributing chapatis and\nkulchas to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. They\nbeckoned to the two travellers and gave them as much as they would.\n\n\"What a splendid city this is!\" said the young man.\n\n\"Now, the man must surely be demented!\" thought the old farmer. \"I\nwonder what he will do next? He will be calling the land water, and\nthe water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness, and\nof darkness when it is light.\" However, he kept his thoughts to\nhimself.\n\nPresently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge of\nthe cemetery. The water was rather deep, so the old farmer took off\nhis shoes and paijamas and crossed over; but the young man waded\nthrough it with his shoes and paijamas on.\n\n\"Well! I never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed,\"\nsaid the old man to himself.\n\nHowever, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his\nwife and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as\nlong as he had occasion to remain in the village.\n\n\"Thank you very much,\" the young man replied; \"but let me first\ninquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong.\"\n\nThe old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing.\n\n\"There is a man in yonder field,\" he said, after returning their\ngreetings. \"He has come the greater part of the way with me, and I\nwanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village.\nBut the fellow is such a fool that I cannot make anything out of him.\nHe wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. The man must\nbe mad!\" and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter.\n\n\"Father,\" said the farmer's daughter, who was a very sharp and wise\ngirl, \"this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. He only\nwishes to know if you can afford to entertain him.\"\n\n\"Oh! of course,\" replied the farmer. \"I see. Well perhaps you can help\nme to solve some of his other mysteries. While we were walking\ntogether he asked whether he should carry me or I should carry him, as\nhe thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding.\"\n\n\"Most assuredly,\" said the girl. \"He meant that one of you should tell\na story to beguile the time.\"\n\n\"Oh yes. Well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me\nwhether it was eaten or not.\"\n\n\"And didn't you know the meaning of this, father? He simply wished to\nknow if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field\nwas in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to\nhim; that is, it would have to go to his creditors.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, yes; of course! Then, on entering a certain village, he\nbade me take his clasp knife and get two horses with it, and bring\nback the knife again to him.\"\n\n\"Are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one along\non the road? He only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be\ncareful not to lose his knife.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said the farmer. \"While we were walking over the city we did\nnot see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of\nanything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some\npeople called to us and put into our hands some chapatis and kulchas;\nso my companion called the city a cemetery, and the cemetery a city.\"\n\n\"This also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city as\nthe place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable\npeople as worse than the dead. The city, though crowded with people,\nwas as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery,\nwhich is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and\nprovided with bread.\"\n\n\"True, true!\" said the astonished farmer. \"Then, just now, when we\nwere crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his\nshoes and paijamas.\"\n\n\"I admire his wisdom,\" replied the girl. \"I have often thought how\nstupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and\nover those sharp stones with bare feet. The slightest stumble and they\nwould fall, and be wetted from head to foot. This friend of yours is a\nmost wise man. I should like to see him and speak to him.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the farmer; \"I will go and find him, and bring him\nin.\"\n\n\"Tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will\ncome in. I'll send on ahead a present to the man, to show him that we\ncan afford to have him for our guest.\"\n\nAccordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with a\npresent of a basin of ghee, twelve chapatis, and a jar of milk, and\nthe following message:--\"O friend, the moon is full; twelve months\nmake a year, and the sea is overflowing with water.\"\n\nHalf-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son,\nwho, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some\nof the food. His father foolishly complied. Presently he saw the young\nman, and gave him the rest of the present and the message.\n\n\"Give your mistress my salam,\" he replied, \"and tell her that the moon\nis new, and that I can only find eleven months in the year, and the\nsea is by no means full.\"\n\nNot understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated\nthem word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus\nhis theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. After a little\nwhile the young man appeared with the old farmer. Great attention was\nshown to him, and he was treated in every way as if he were the son of\na great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. At\nlength he told them everything--about the laughing of the fish, his\nfather's threatened execution, and his own banishment--and asked their\nadvice as to what he should do.\n\n\"The laughing of the fish,\" said the girl, \"which seems to have been\nthe cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the\npalace who is plotting against the king's life.\"\n\n\"Joy, joy!\" exclaimed the vizier's son. \"There is yet time for me to\nreturn and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and\nthe king from danger.\"\n\nThe following day he hastened back to his own country, taking with him\nthe farmer's daughter. Immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and\ninformed his father of what he had heard. The poor vizier, now almost\ndead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the king,\nto whom he repeated the news that his son had just brought.\n\n\"Never!\" said the king.\n\n\"But it must be so, Your Majesty,\" replied the vizier; \"and in order\nto prove the truth of what I have heard, I pray you to call together\nall the maids in your palace, and order them to jump over a pit,\nwhich must be dug. We'll soon find out whether there is any man\nthere.\"\n\n[Illustration:]\n\nThe king had the pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to the\npalace to try to jump it. All of them tried, but only one succeeded.\nThat one was found to be a man!!\n\nThus was the queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved.\n\nAfterwards, as soon as could be, the vizier's son married the old\nfarmer's daughter; and a most happy marriage it was.\n\n\n\n\nThe Demon with the Matted Hair\n\n\n_This story the Teacher told in Jetavana about a Brother who had\nceased striving after righteousness. Said the Teacher to him: \"Is it\nreally true that you have ceased all striving?\"--\"Yes, Blessed One,\"\nhe replied. Then the Teacher said: \"O Brother, in former days wise men\nmade effort in the place where effort should be made, and so attained\nunto royal power.\" And he told a story of long ago._\n\n\nOnce upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, the\nBodhisatta was born as son of his chief queen. On his name-day they\nasked 800 Brahmans, having satisfied them with all their desires,\nabout his lucky marks. The Brahmans who had skill in divining from\nsuch marks beheld the excellence of his, and made answer:\n\n\"Full of goodness, great King, is your son, and when you die he will\nbecome king; he shall be famous and renowned for his skill with the\nfive weapons, and shall be the chief man in all India.\" On hearing\nwhat the Brahmans had to say, they gave him the name of the Prince of\nthe Five Weapons, sword, spear, bow, battle-axe, and shield.\n\nWhen he came to years of discretion, and had attained the measure of\nsixteen years, the King said to him:\n\n\"My son, go and complete your education.\"\n\n\"Who shall be my teacher?\" the lad asked.\n\n\"Go, my son; in the kingdom of Candahar, in the city of Takkasila, is\na far-famed teacher from whom I wish you to learn. Take this, and give\nit him for a fee.\" With that he gave him a thousand pieces of money,\nand dismissed him.\n\nThe lad departed, and was educated by this teacher; he received the\nFive Weapons from him as a gift, bade him farewell, and leaving\nTakkasila, he began his journey to Benares, armed with the Five\nWeapons.\n\nOn his way he came to a forest inhabited by the Demon with the Matted\nHair. At the entering in of the forest some men saw him, and cried\nout:\n\n\"Hullo, young sir, keep clear of that wood! There's a Demon in it\ncalled he of the Matted Hair: he kills every man he sees!\" And they\ntried to stop him. But the Bodhisatta, having confidence in himself,\nwent straight on, fearless as a maned lion.\n\nWhen he reached mid-forest the Demon showed himself. He made himself\nas tall as a palm tree; his head was the size of a pagoda, his eyes as\nbig as saucers, and he had two tusks all over knobs and bulbs; he had\nthe face of a hawk, a variegated belly, and blue hands and feet.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" he shouted. \"Stop! You'll make a meal for me!\"\n\nSaid the Bodhisatta: \"Demon, I came here trusting in myself. I advise\nyou to be careful how you come near me. Here's a poisoned arrow, which\nI'll shoot at you and knock you down!\" With this menace, he fitted to\nhis bow an arrow dipped in deadly poison, and let fly. The arrow stuck\nfast in the Demon's hair. Then he shot and shot, till he had shot away\nfifty arrows; and they all stuck in the Demon's hair. The Demon\nsnapped them all off short, and threw them down at his feet; then came\nup to the Bodhisatta, who drew his sword and struck the Demon,\nthreatening him the while. His sword--it was three-and-thirty inches\nlong--stuck in the Demon's hair! The Bodhisatta struck him with his\nspear--that stuck too! He struck him with his club--and that stuck\ntoo!\n\nWhen the Bodhisatta saw that this had stuck fast, he addressed the\nDemon. \"You, Demon!\" said he, \"did you never hear of me before--the\nPrince of the Five Weapons? When I came into the forest which you live\nin I did not trust to my bow and other weapons. This day will I pound\nyou and grind you to powder!\" Thus did he declare his resolve, and\nwith a shout he hit at the Demon with his right hand. It stuck fast in\nhis hair! He hit him with his left hand--that stuck too! With his\nright foot he kicked him--that stuck too; then with his left--and that\nstuck too! Then he butted at him with his head, crying, \"I'll pound\nyou to powder!\" and his head stuck fast like the rest.\n\nThus the Bodhisatta was five times snared, caught fast in five places,\nhanging suspended: yet he felt no fear--was not even nervous.\n\n[Illustration: THE DEMON WITH THE MATTED HAIR]\n\nThought the Demon to himself: \"Here's a lion of a man! A\nnoble man! More than man is he! Here he is, caught by a Demon like me;\nyet he will not fear a bit. Since I have ravaged this road, I never\nsaw such a man. Now, why is it that he does not fear?\" He was\npowerless to eat the man, but asked him: \"Why is it, young sir, that\nyou are not frightened to death?\"\n\n\"Why should I fear, Demon?\" replied he. \"In one life a man can die but\nonce. Besides, in my belly is a thunderbolt; if you eat me, you will\nnever be able to digest it; this will tear your inwards into little\nbits, and kill you: so we shall both perish. That is why I fear\nnothing.\" (By this, the Bodhisatta meant the weapon of knowledge which\nhe had within him.)\n\nWhen he heard this, the Demon thought: \"This young man speaks the\ntruth. A piece of the flesh of such a lion-man as he would be too much\nfor me to digest, if it were no bigger than a kidney-bean. I'll let\nhim go!\" So, being frightened to death, he let go the Bodhisatta,\nsaying:\n\n\"Young sir, you are a lion of a man! I will not eat you up. I set you\nfree from my hands, as the moon is disgorged from the jaws of Rahu\nafter the eclipse. Go back to the company of your friends and\nrelations!\"\n\nAnd the Bodhisatta said: \"Demon, I will go, as you say. You were born\na Demon, cruel, blood-bibbing, devourer of the flesh and gore of\nothers, because you did wickedly in former lives. If you still go on\ndoing wickedly, you will go from darkness to darkness. But now that\nyou have seen me you will find it impossible to do wickedly. Taking\nthe life of living creatures causes birth, as an animal, in the world\nof Petas, or in the body of an Asura, or, if one is reborn as a man,\nit makes his life short.\" With this and the like monition he told him\nthe disadvantage of the five kinds of wickedness, and the profit of\nthe five kinds of virtue, and frightened the Demon in various ways,\ndiscoursing to him until he subdued him and made him self-denying, and\nestablished him in the five kinds of virtue; he made him worship the\ndeity to whom offerings were made in that wood; and having carefully\nadmonished him, departed out of it.\n\nAt the entrance of the forest he told all to the people thereabout;\nand went on to Benares, armed with his five weapons. Afterwards he\nbecame king, and ruled righteously; and after giving alms and doing\ngood he passed away according to his deeds.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_And the Teacher, when this tale was ended, became perfectly\nenlightened, and repeated this verse_:\n\n    _Whose mind and heart from all desire is free,\n    Who seeks for peace by living virtuously,\n      He in due time will sever all the bonds\n    That bind him fast to life, and cease to be._\n\n_Thus the Teacher reached the summit, through sainthood and the\nteaching of the law, and thereupon he declared the Four Truths. At the\nend of the declaring of the Truths, this Brother also attained to\nsainthood. Then the Teacher made the connexion, and gave the key to\nthe birth-tale, saying: \"At that time Angulimala was the Demon, but\nthe Prince of the Five Weapons was I myself.\"_\n\n\n\n\nThe Ivory City and its Fairy Princess\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOne day a young prince was out practising archery with the son of his\nfather's chief vizier, when one of the arrows accidentally struck the\nwife of a merchant, who was walking about in an upper room of a house\nclose by. The prince aimed at a bird that was perched on the\nwindow-sill of that room, and had not the slightest idea that anybody\nwas at hand, or he would not have shot in that direction.\nConsequently, not knowing what had happened, he and the vizier's son\nwalked away, the vizier's son chaffing him because he had missed the\nbird.\n\nPresently the merchant went to ask his wife about something, and found\nher lying, to all appearance, dead in the middle of the room, and an\narrow fixed in the ground within half a yard of her head. Supposing\nthat she was dead, he rushed to the window and shrieked, \"Thieves\nthieves! They have killed my wife.\" The neighbours quickly gathered,\nand the servants came running upstairs to see what was the matter. It\nhappened that the woman had fainted, and that there was only a very\nslight wound in her breast where the arrow had grazed.\n\nAs soon as the woman recovered her senses she told them that two young\nmen had passed by the place with their bows and arrows, and that one\nof them had most deliberately aimed at her as she stood by the window.\n\nOn hearing this the merchant went to the king, and told him what had\ntaken place. His Majesty was much enraged at such audacious\nwickedness, and swore that most terrible punishment should be visited\non the offender if he could be discovered. He ordered the merchant to\ngo back and ascertain whether his wife could recognise the young men\nif she saw them again.\n\n\"Oh yes,\" replied the woman, \"I should know them again among all the\npeople in the city.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the king, when the merchant brought back this reply,\n\"to-morrow I will cause all the male inhabitants of this city to pass\nbefore your house, and your wife will stand at the window and watch\nfor the man who did this wanton deed.\"\n\nA royal proclamation was issued to this effect. So the next day all\nthe men and boys of the city, from the age of ten years upwards,\nassembled and marched by the house of the merchant. By chance (for\nthey both had been excused from obeying this order) the king's son and\nthe vizier's son were also in the company, and passed by in the crowd.\nThey came to see the tamasha.\n\nAs soon as these two appeared in front of the merchant's window they\nwere recognised by the merchant's wife, and at once reported to the\nking.\n\n\"My own son and the son of my chief vizier!\" exclaimed the king, who\nhad been present from the commencement. \"What examples for the people!\nLet them both be executed.\"\n\n\"Not so, your Majesty,\" said the vizier, \"I beseech you. Let the facts\nof the case be thoroughly investigated. How is it?\" he continued,\nturning to the two young men. \"Why have you done this cruel thing?\"\n\n\"I shot an arrow at a bird that was sitting on the sill of an open\nwindow in yonder house, and missed,\" answered the prince. \"I suppose\nthe arrow struck the merchant's wife. Had I known that she or anybody\nhad been near I should not have shot in that direction.\"\n\n\"We will speak of this later on,\" said the king, on hearing this\nanswer. \"Dismiss the people. Their presence is no longer needed.\"\n\nIn the evening his Majesty and the vizier had a long and earnest talk\nabout their two sons. The king wished both of them to be executed; but\nthe vizier suggested that the prince should be banished from the\ncountry. This was finally agreed to.\n\nAccordingly, on the following morning, a little company of soldiers\nescorted the prince out of the city. When they reached the last\ncustom-house the vizier's son overtook them. He had come with all\nhaste, bringing with him four bags of muhrs on four horses. \"I am\ncome,\" he said, throwing his arms round the prince's neck, \"because I\ncannot let you go alone. We have lived together, we will be exiled\ntogether, and we will die together. Turn me not back, if you love me.\"\n\n\"Consider,\" the prince answered, \"what you are doing. All kinds of\ntrial may be before me. Why should you leave your home and country to\nbe with me?\"\n\n\"Because I love you,\" he said, \"and shall never be happy without you.\"\n\nSo the two friends walked along hand in hand as fast as they could to\nget out of the country, and behind them marched the soldiers and the\nhorses with their valuable burdens. On reaching a place on the borders\nof the king's dominions the prince gave the soldiers some gold, and\nordered them to return. The soldiers took the money and left; they did\nnot, however, go very far, but hid themselves behind rocks and stones,\nand waited till they were quite sure that the prince did not intend to\ncome back.\n\nOn and on the exiles walked, till they arrived at a certain village,\nwhere they determined to spend the night under one of the big trees of\nthe place. The prince made preparations for a fire, and arranged the\nfew articles of bedding that they had with them, while the vizier's\nson went to the baniya and the baker and the butcher to get something\nfor their dinner. For some reason he was delayed; perhaps the tsut was\nnot quite ready, or the baniya had not got all the spices prepared.\nAfter waiting half an hour the prince became impatient, and rose up\nand walked about.\n\nHe saw a pretty, clear little brook running along not far from their\nresting-place, and hearing that its source was not far distant, he\nstarted off to find it. The source was a beautiful lake, which at that\ntime was covered with the magnificent lotus flower and other water\nplants. The prince sat down on the bank, and being thirsty took up\nsome of the water in his hand. Fortunately he looked into his hand\nbefore drinking, and there, to his great astonishment, he saw\nreflected whole and clear the image of a beautiful fairy. He looked\nround, hoping to see the reality; but seeing no person, he drank the\nwater, and put out his hand to take some more. Again he saw the\nreflection in the water which was in his palm. He looked around as\nbefore, and this time discovered a fairy sitting by the bank on the\nopposite side of the lake. On seeing her he fell so madly in love with\nher that he dropped down in a swoon.\n\nWhen the vizier's son returned, and found the fire lighted, the horses\nsecurely fastened, and the bags of muhrs lying altogether in a heap,\nbut no prince, he did not know what to think. He waited a little\nwhile, and then shouted; but not getting any reply, he got up and went\nto the brook. There he came across the footmarks of his friend. Seeing\nthese, he went back at once for the money and the horses, and bringing\nthem with him, he tracked the prince to the lake, where he found him\nlying to all appearance dead.\n\n\"Alas! alas!\" he cried, and lifting up the prince, he poured some\nwater over his head and face. \"Alas! my brother, what is this? Oh! do\nnot die and leave me thus. Speak, speak! I cannot bear this!\"\n\nIn a few minutes the prince, revived by the water, opened his eyes,\nand looked about wildly.\n\n\"Thank God!\" exclaimed the vizier's son. \"But what is the matter,\nbrother?\"\n\n\"Go away,\" replied the prince. \"I don't want to say anything to you,\nor to see you. Go away.\"\n\n\"Come, come; let us leave this place. Look, I have brought some food\nfor you, and horses, and everything. Let us eat and depart.\"\n\n\"Go alone,\" replied the prince.\n\n\"Never,\" said the vizier's son. \"What has happened to suddenly\nestrange you from me? A little while ago we were brethren, but now you\ndetest the sight of me.\"\n\n\"I have looked upon a fairy,\" the prince said. \"But a moment I saw her\nface; for when she noticed that I was looking at her she covered her\nface with lotus petals. Oh, how beautiful she was! And while I gazed\nshe took out of her bosom an ivory box, and held it up to me. Then I\nfainted. Oh! if you can get me that fairy for my wife, I will go\nanywhere with you.\"\n\n\"Oh, brother,\" said the vizier's son, \"you have indeed seen a fairy.\nShe is a fairy of the fairies. This is none other than Gulizar of the\nIvory City. I know this from the signs that she gave you. From her\ncovering her face with lotus petals I learn her name, and from her\nshowing you the ivory box I learn where she lives. Be patient, and\nrest assured that I will arrange your marriage with her.\"\n\nWhen the prince heard these encouraging words he felt much comforted,\nrose up, and ate, and then went away gladly with his friend.\n\nOn the way they met two men. These two men belonged to a family of\nrobbers. There were eleven of them altogether. One, an elder sister,\nstayed at home and cooked the food, and the other ten--all\nbrothers--went out, two and two, and walked about the four different\nways that ran through that part of the country, robbing those\ntravellers who could not resist them, and inviting others, who were\ntoo powerful for two of them to manage, to come and rest at their\nhouse, where the whole family attacked them and stole their goods.\nThese thieves lived in a kind of tower, which had several strong-rooms\nin it, and under it was a great pit, wherein they threw the corpses of\nthe poor unfortunates who chanced to fall into their power.\n\nThe two men came forward, and, politely accosting them, begged them to\ncome and stay at their house for the night. \"It is late,\" they said,\n\"and there is not another village within several miles.\"\n\n\"Shall we accept this good man's invitation, brother?\" asked the\nprince.\n\nThe vizier's son frowned slightly in token of disapproval; but the\nprince was tired, and thinking that it was only a whim of his\nfriend's, he said to the men, \"Very well. It is very kind of you to\nask us.\"\n\nSo they all four went to the robbers' tower.\n\nSeated in a room, with the door fastened on the outside, the two\ntravellers bemoaned their fate.\n\n\"It is no good groaning,\" said the vizier's son. \"I will climb to the\nwindow, and see whether there are any means of escape. Yes! yes!\" he\nwhispered, when he had reached the window-hole. \"Below there is a\nditch surrounded by a high wall. I will jump down and reconnoitre. You\nstay here, and wait till I return.\"\n\nPresently he came back and told the prince that he had seen a most\nugly woman, whom he supposed was the robbers' housekeeper. She had\nagreed to release them on the promise of her marriage with the prince.\n\nSo the woman led the way out of the enclosure by a secret door.\n\n\"But where are the horses and the goods?\" the vizier's son inquired.\n\n\"You cannot bring them,\" the woman said. \"To go out by any other way\nwould be to thrust oneself into the grave.\"\n\n\"All right, then; they also shall go out by this door. I have a charm,\nwhereby I can make them thin or fat.\" So the vizier's son fetched the\nhorses without any person knowing it, and repeating the charm, he made\nthem pass through the narrow doorway like pieces of cloth, and when\nthey were all outside restored them to their former condition. He at\nonce mounted his horse and laid hold of the halter of one of the other\nhorses, and then beckoning to the prince to do likewise, he rode off.\nThe prince saw his opportunity, and in a moment was riding after him,\nhaving the woman behind him.\n\nNow the robbers heard the galloping of the horses, and ran out and\nshot their arrows at the prince and his companions. And one of the\narrows killed the woman, so they had to leave her behind.\n\nOn, on they rode, until they reached a village where they stayed the\nnight. The following morning they were off again, and asked for Ivory\nCity from every passer-by. At length they came to this famous city,\nand put up at a little hut that belonged to an old woman, from whom\nthey feared no harm, and with whom, therefore, they could abide in\npeace and comfort. At first the old woman did not like the idea of\nthese travellers staying in her house, but the sight of a muhr, which\nthe prince dropped in the bottom of a cup in which she had given him\nwater, and a present of another muhr from the vizier's son, quickly\nmade her change her mind. She agreed to let them stay there for a few\ndays.\n\nAs soon as her work was over the old woman came and sat down with her\nlodgers. The vizier's son pretended to be utterly ignorant of the\nplace and people. \"Has this city a name?\" he asked the old woman.\n\n\"Of course it has, you stupid. Every little village, much more a city,\nand such a city as this, has a name.\"\n\n\"What is the name of this city?\"\n\n\"Ivory City. Don't you know that? I thought the name was known all\nover the world.\"\n\nOn the mention of the name Ivory City the prince gave a deep sigh. The\nvizier's son looked as much as to say, \"Keep quiet, or you'll discover\nthe secret.\"\n\n\"Is there a king of this country?\" continued the vizier's son.\n\n\"Of course there is, and a queen, and a princess.\"\n\n\"What are their names?\"\n\n\"The name of the princess is Gulizar, and the name of the queen----\"\n\nThe vizier's son interrupted the old woman by turning to look at the\nprince, who was staring like a madman. \"Yes,\" he said to him\nafterwards, \"we are in the right country. We shall see the beautiful\nprincess.\"\n\nOne morning the two travellers noticed the old woman's most careful\ntoilette: how careful she was in the arrangement of her hair and the\nset of her kasabah and puts.\n\n\"Who is coming?\" said the vizier's son.\n\n\"Nobody,\" the old woman replied.\n\n\"Then where are you going?\"\n\n\"I am going to see my daughter, who is a servant of the Princess\nGulizar. I see her and the princess every day. I should have gone\nyesterday, if you had not been here and taken up all my time.\"\n\n\"Ah-h-h! Be careful not to say anything about us in the hearing of the\nprincess.\" The vizier's son asked her not to speak about them at the\npalace, hoping that, because she had been told not to do so, she would\nmention their arrival, and thus the princess would be informed of\ntheir coming.\n\nOn seeing her mother the girl pretended to be very angry. \"Why have\nyou not been for two days?\" she asked.\n\n\"Because, my dear,\" the old woman answered, \"two young travellers, a\nprince and the son of some great vizier, have taken up their abode in\nmy hut, and demand so much of my attention. It is nothing but cooking\nand cleaning, and cleaning and cooking, all day long. I can't\nunderstand the men,\" she added; \"one of them especially appears very\nstupid. He asked me the name of this country and the name of the\nking. Now where can these men have come from, that they do not know\nthese things? However, they are very great and very rich. They each\ngive me a muhr every morning and every evening.\"\n\nAfter this the old woman went and repeated almost the same words to\nthe princess, on the hearing of which the princess beat her severely;\nand threatened her with a severer punishment if she ever again spoke\nof the strangers before her.\n\nIn the evening, when the old woman had returned to her hut, she told\nthe vizier's son how sorry she was that she could not help breaking\nher promise, and how the princess had struck her because she mentioned\ntheir coming and all about them.\n\n\"Alas! alas!\" said the prince, who had eagerly listened to every word.\n\"What, then, will be her anger at the sight of a man?\"\n\n\"Anger?\" said the vizier's son, with an astonished air. \"She would be\nexceedingly glad to see one man. I know this. In this treatment of the\nold woman I see her request that you will go and see her during the\ncoming dark fortnight.\"\n\n\"Heaven be praised!\" the prince exclaimed.\n\nThe next time the old woman went to the palace Gulizar called one of\nher servants and ordered her to rush into the room while she was\nconversing with the old woman; and if the old woman asked what was the\nmatter, she was to say that the king's elephants had gone mad, and\nwere rushing about the city and bazaar in every direction, and\ndestroying everything in their way.\n\nThe servant obeyed, and the old woman, fearing lest the elephants\nshould go and push down her hut and kill the prince and his friend,\nbegged the princess to let her depart. Now Gulizar had obtained a\ncharmed swing, that landed whoever sat on it at the place wherever\nthey wished to be. \"Get the swing,\" she said to one of the servants\nstanding by. When it was brought she bade the old woman step into it\nand desire to be at home.\n\nThe old woman did so, and was at once carried through the air quickly\nand safely to her hut, where she found her two lodgers safe and sound.\n\"Oh!\" she cried, \"I thought that both of you would be killed by this\ntime. The royal elephants have got loose and are running about wildly.\nWhen I heard this I was anxious about you. So the princess gave me\nthis charmed swing to return in. But come, let us get outside before\nthe elephants arrive and batter down the place.\"\n\n\"Don't believe this,\" said the vizier's son. \"It is a mere hoax. They\nhave been playing tricks with you.\"\n\n\"You will soon have your heart's desire,\" he whispered aside to the\nprince. \"These things are signs.\"\n\nTwo days of the dark fortnight had elapsed, when the prince and the\nvizier's son seated themselves in the swing, and wished themselves\nwithin the grounds of the palace. In a moment they were there, and\nthere too was the object of their search standing by one of the palace\ngates, and longing to see the prince quite as much as he was longing\nto see her.\n\nOh, what a happy meeting it was!\n\n\"At last,\" said Gulizar, \"I have seen my beloved, my husband.\"\n\n\"A thousand thanks to Heaven for bringing me to you,\" said the prince.\n\nThen the prince and Gulizar betrothed themselves to one another and\nparted, the one for the hut and the other for the palace, both of them\nfeeling happier than they had ever been before.\n\nHenceforth the prince visited Gulizar every day and returned to the\nhut every night. One morning Gulizar begged him to stay with her\nalways. She was constantly afraid of some evil happening to\nhim--perhaps robbers would slay him, or sickness attack him, and then\nshe would be deprived of him. She could not live without seeing him.\nThe prince showed her that there was no real cause for fear, and said\nthat he felt he ought to return to his friend at night, because he had\nleft his home and country and risked his life for him; and, moreover,\nif it had not been for his friend's help he would never have met with\nher.\n\nGulizar for the time assented, but she determined in her heart to get\nrid of the vizier's son as soon as possible. A few days after this\nconversation she ordered one of her maids to make a pilaw. She gave\nspecial directions that a certain poison was to be mixed into it while\ncooking, and as soon as it was ready the cover was to be placed on the\nsaucepan, so that the poisonous steam might not escape. When the pilaw\nwas ready she sent it at once by the hand of a servant to the vizier's\nson with this message: \"Gulizar, the princess, sends you an offering\nin the name of her dead uncle.\"\n\nOn receiving the present the vizier's son thought that the prince had\nspoken gratefully of him to the princess, and therefore she had thus\nremembered him. Accordingly he sent back his salam and expressions of\nthankfulness.\n\nWhen it was dinner-time he took the saucepan of pilaw and went out to\neat it by the stream. Taking off the lid, he threw it aside on the\ngrass and then washed his hands. During the minute or so that he was\nperforming these ablutions, the green grass under the cover of the\nsaucepan turned quite yellow. He was astonished, and suspecting that\nthere was poison in the pilaw, he took a little and threw it to some\ncrows that were hopping about. The moment the crows ate what was\nthrown to them they fell down dead.\n\n\"Heaven be praised,\" exclaimed the vizier's son, \"who has preserved me\nfrom death at this time!\"\n\nOn the return of the prince that evening the vizier's son was very\nreticent and depressed. The prince noticed this change in him, and\nasked what was the reason. \"Is it because I am away so much at the\npalace?\" The vizier's son saw that the prince had nothing to do with\nthe sending of the pilaw, and therefore told him everything.\n\n\"Look here,\" he said, \"in this handkerchief is some pilaw that the\nprincess sent me this morning in the name of her deceased uncle. It is\nsaturated with poison. Thank Heaven, I discovered it in time!\"\n\n\"Oh, brother! who could have done this thing? Who is there that\nentertains enmity against you?\"\n\n\"The Princess Gulizar. Listen. The next time you go to see her, I\nentreat you to take some snow with you; and just before seeing the\nprincess put a little of it into both your eyes. It will provoke\ntears, and Gulizar will ask you why you are crying. Tell her that you\nweep for the loss of your friend, who died suddenly this morning.\nLook! take, too, this wine and this shovel, and when you have feigned\nintense grief at the death of your friend, bid the princess to drink a\nlittle of the wine. It is strong, and will immediately send her into a\ndeep sleep. Then, while she is asleep, heat the shovel and mark her\nback with it. Remember to bring back the shovel again, and also to\ntake her pearl necklace. This done, return. Now fear not to execute\nthese instructions, because on the fulfilment of them depends your\nfortune and happiness. I will arrange that your marriage with the\nprincess shall be accepted by the king, her father, and all the\ncourt.\"\n\nThe prince promised that he would do everything as the vizier's son\nhad advised him; and he kept his promise.\n\nThe following night, on the return of the prince from his visit to\nGulizar, he and the vizier's son, taking the horses and bags of muhrs,\nwent to a graveyard about a mile or so distant. It was arranged that\nthe vizier's son should act the part of a fakir and the prince the\npart of the fakir's disciple and servant.\n\nIn the morning, when Gulizar had returned to her senses, she felt a\nsmarting pain in her back, and noticed that her pearl necklace was\ngone. She went at once and informed the king of the loss of her\nnecklace, but said nothing to him about the pain in her back.\n\nThe king was very angry when he heard of the theft, and caused\nproclamation concerning it to be made throughout all the city and\nsurrounding country.\n\n\"It is well,\" said the vizier's son, when he heard of this\nproclamation. \"Fear not, my brother, but go and take this necklace,\nand try to sell it in the bazaar.\"\n\nThe prince took it to a goldsmith and asked him to buy it.\n\n\"How much do you want for it?\" asked the man.\n\n\"Fifty thousand rupees,\" the prince replied.\n\n\"All right,\" said the man; \"wait here while I go and fetch the money.\"\n\nThe prince waited and waited, till at last the goldsmith returned,\nand with him the kotwal, who at once took the prince into custody on\nthe charge of stealing the princess's necklace.\n\n\"How did you get the necklace?\" the kotwal asked.\n\n\"A fakir, whose servant I am, gave it to me to sell in the bazaar,\"\nthe prince replied. \"Permit me, and I will show you where he is.\"\n\nThe prince directed the kotwal and the policeman to the place where he\nhad left the vizier's son, and there they found the fakir with his\neyes shut and engaged in prayer. Presently, when he had finished his\ndevotions, the kotwal asked him to explain how he had obtained\npossession of the princess's necklace.\n\n\"Call the king hither,\" he replied, \"and then I will tell his Majesty\nface to face.\"\n\nOn this some men went to the king and told him what the fakir had\nsaid. His Majesty came, and seeing the fakir so solemn and earnest in\nhis devotions, he was afraid to rouse his anger, lest peradventure the\ndispleasure of Heaven should descend on him, and so he placed his\nhands together in the attitude of a supplicant, and asked, \"How did\nyou get my daughter's necklace?\"\n\n\"Last night,\" replied the fakir, \"we were sitting here by this tomb\nworshipping Khuda, when a ghoul, dressed as a princess, came and\nexhumed a body that had been buried a few days ago, and began to eat\nit. On seeing this I was filled with anger, and beat her back with a\nshovel, which lay on the fire at the time. While running away from me\nher necklace got loose and dropped. You wonder at these words, but\nthey are not difficult to prove. Examine your daughter, and you will\nfind the marks of the burn on her back. Go, and if it is as I say,\nsend the princess to me, and I will punish her.\"\n\nThe king went back to the palace, and at once ordered the princess's\nback to be examined.\n\n\"It is so,\" said the maid-servant; \"the burn is there.\"\n\n\"Then let the girl be slain immediately,\" the king shouted.\n\n\"No, no, your Majesty,\" they replied. \"Let us send her to the fakir\nwho discovered this thing, that he may do whatever he wishes with\nher.\"\n\nThe king agreed, and so the princess was taken to the graveyard.\n\n\"Let her be shut up in a cage, and be kept near the grave whence she\ntook out the corpse,\" said the fakir.\n\nThis was done, and in a little while the fakir and his disciple and\nthe princess were left alone in the graveyard. Night had not long cast\nits dark mantle over the scene when the fakir and his disciple threw\noff their disguise, and taking their horses and luggage, appeared\nbefore the cage. They released the princess, rubbed some ointment over\nthe scars on her back, and then sat her upon one of their horses\nbehind the prince. Away they rode fast and far, and by the morning\nwere able to rest and talk over their plans in safety. The vizier's\nson showed the princess some of the poisoned pilaw that she had sent\nhim, and asked whether she had repented of her ingratitude. The\nprincess wept, and acknowledged that he was her greatest helper and\nfriend.\n\nA letter was sent to the chief vizier telling him of all that had\nhappened to the prince and the vizier's son since they had left their\ncountry. When the vizier read the letter he went and informed the\nking. The king caused a reply to be sent to the two exiles, in which\nhe ordered them not to return, but to send a letter to Gulizar's\nfather, and inform him of everything. Accordingly they did this; the\nprince wrote the letter at the vizier's son's dictation.\n\nOn reading the letter Gulizar's father was much enraged with his\nviziers and other officials for not discovering the presence in his\ncountry of these illustrious visitors, as he was especially anxious to\ningratiate himself in the favour of the prince and the vizier's son.\nHe ordered the execution of some of the viziers on a certain date.\n\n\"Come,\" he wrote back to the vizier's son, \"and stay at the palace.\nAnd if the prince desires it, I will arrange for his marriage with\nGulizar as soon as possible.\"\n\nThe prince and the vizier's son most gladly accepted the invitation,\nand received a right noble welcome from the king. The marriage soon\ntook place, and then after a few weeks the king gave them presents of\nhorses and elephants, and jewels and rich cloths, and bade them start\nfor their own land; for he was sure that the king would now receive\nthem. The night before they left the viziers and others, whom the king\nintended to have executed as soon as his visitors had left, came and\nbesought the vizier's son to plead for them, and promised that they\neach would give him a daughter in marriage. He agreed to do so, and\nsucceeded in obtaining their pardon.\n\nThen the prince, with his beautiful bride Gulizar, and the vizier's\nson, attended by a troop of soldiers, and a large number of camels and\nhorses bearing very much treasure, left for their own land. In the\nmidst of the way they passed the tower of the robbers, and with the\nhelp of the soldiers they razed it to the ground, slew all its\ninmates, and seized the treasure which they had been amassing there\nfor several years.\n\nAt length they reached their own country, and when the king saw his\nson's beautiful wife and his magnificent retinue he was at once\nreconciled, and ordered him to enter the city and take up his abode\nthere.\n\nHenceforth all was sunshine on the path of the prince. He became a\ngreat favourite, and in due time succeeded to the throne, and ruled\nthe country for many, many years in peace and happiness.\n\n\n\n\nHow Sun, Moon, and Wind went out to Dinner\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOne day Sun, Moon, and Wind went out to dine with their uncle and\naunts Thunder and Lightning. Their mother (one of the most distant\nStars you see far up in the sky) waited alone for her children's\nreturn.\n\nNow both Sun and Wind were greedy and selfish. They enjoyed the great\nfeast that had been prepared for them, without a thought of saving any\nof it to take home to their mother--but the gentle Moon did not\nforget her. Of every dainty dish that was brought round, she placed a\nsmall portion under one of her beautiful long finger-nails, that Star\nmight also have a share in the treat.\n\nOn their return, their mother, who had kept watch for them all night\nlong with her little bright eye, said, \"Well, children, what have you\nbrought home for me?\" Then Sun (who was eldest) said, \"I have brought\nnothing home for you. I went out to enjoy myself with my friends--not\nto fetch a dinner for my mother!\" And Wind said, \"Neither have I\nbrought anything home for you, mother. You could hardly expect me to\nbring a collection of good things for you, when I merely went out for\nmy own pleasure.\" But Moon said, \"Mother, fetch a plate, see what I\nhave brought you.\" And shaking her hands she showered down such a\nchoice dinner as never was seen before.\n\nThen Star turned to Sun and spoke thus, \"Because you went out to amuse\nyourself with your friends, and feasted and enjoyed yourself, without\nany thought of your mother at home--you shall be cursed. Henceforth,\nyour rays shall ever be hot and scorching, and shall burn all that\nthey touch. And men shall hate you, and cover their heads when you\nappear.\"\n\n(And that is why the Sun is so hot to this day.)\n\nThen she turned to Wind and said, \"You also who forgot your mother in\nthe midst of your selfish pleasures--hear your doom. You shall always\nblow in the hot dry weather, and shall parch and shrivel all living\nthings. And men shall detest and avoid you from this very time.\"\n\n(And that is why the Wind in the hot weather is still so\ndisagreeable.)\n\nBut to Moon she said, \"Daughter, because you remembered your mother,\nand kept for her a share in your own enjoyment, from henceforth you\nshall be ever cool, and calm, and bright. No noxious glare shall\naccompany your pure rays, and men shall always call you 'blessed.'\"\n\n(And that is why the moon's light is so soft, and cool, and beautiful\neven to this day.)\n\n\n\n\nHow the Wicked Sons were Duped.\n\n\nA very wealthy old man, imagining that he was on the point of death,\nsent for his sons and divided his property among them. However, he did\nnot die for several years afterwards; and miserable years many of them\nwere. Besides the weariness of old age, the old fellow had to bear\nwith much abuse and cruelty from his sons. Wretched, selfish ingrates!\nPreviously they vied with one another in trying to please their\nfather, hoping thus to receive more money, but now they had received\ntheir patrimony, they cared not how soon he left them--nay, the sooner\nthe better, because he was only a needless trouble and expense. And\nthey let the poor old man know what they felt.\n\nOne day he met a friend and related to him all his troubles. The\nfriend sympathised very much with him, and promised to think over the\nmatter, and call in a little while and tell him what to do. He did so;\nin a few days he visited the old man and put down four bags full of\nstones and gravel before him.\n\n\"Look here, friend,\" said he. \"Your sons will get to know of my coming\nhere to-day, and will inquire about it. You must pretend that I came\nto discharge a long-standing debt with you, and that you are several\nthousands of rupees richer than you thought you were. Keep these bags\nin your own hands, and on no account let your sons get to them as long\nas you are alive. You will soon find them change their conduct towards\nyou. Salaam. I will come again soon to see how you are getting on.\"\n\nWhen the young men got to hear of this further increase of wealth they\nbegan to be more attentive and pleasing to their father than ever\nbefore. And thus they continued to the day of the old man's demise,\nwhen the bags were greedily opened, and found to contain only stones\nand gravel!\n\n\n\n\nThe Pigeon and the Crow\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n\nOnce upon a time the Bodhisatta was a Pigeon, and lived in a\nnest-basket which a rich man's cook had hung up in the kitchen, in\norder to earn merit by it. A greedy Crow, flying near, saw all sorts\nof delicate food lying about in the kitchen, and fell a-hungering\nafter it. \"How in the world can I get some?\" thought he? At last he\nhit upon a plan.\n\nWhen the Pigeon went to search for food, behind him, following,\nfollowing, came the Crow.\n\n\"What do you want, Mr. Crow? You and I don't feed alike.\"\n\n\"Ah, but I like you and your ways! Let me be your chum, and let us\nfeed together.\"\n\nThe Pigeon agreed, and they went on in company. The Crow pretended to\nfeed along with the Pigeon, but ever and anon he would turn back, peck\nto bits some heap of cow-dung, and eat a fat worm. When he had got a\nbellyful of them, up he flies, as pert as you like:\n\n\"Hullo, Mr. Pigeon, what a time you take over your meal! One ought to\ndraw the line somewhere. Let's be going home before it is too late.\"\nAnd so they did.\n\nThe cook saw that his Pigeon had brought a friend, and hung up another\nbasket for him.\n\nA few days afterwards there was a great purchase of fish which came to\nthe rich man's kitchen. How the Crow longed for some! So there he lay,\nfrom early morn, groaning and making a great noise. Says the Pigeon to\nthe Crow:\n\n\"Come, Sir Crow, and get your breakfast!\"\n\n\"Oh dear! oh dear! I have such a fit of indigestion!\" says he.\n\n\"Nonsense! Crows never have indigestion,\" said the Pigeon. \"If you eat\na lamp-wick, that stays in your stomach a little while; but anything\nelse is digested in a trice, as soon as you eat it. Now do what I tell\nyou; don't behave in this way just for seeing a little fish.\"\n\n\"Why do you say that, master? I have indigestion.\"\n\n\"Well, be careful,\" said the Pigeon, and flew away.\n\nThe cook prepared all the dishes, and then stood at the kitchen door,\nwiping the sweat off his body. \"Now's my time!\" thought Mr. Crow, and\nalighted on a dish containing some dainty food. Click! The cook heard\nit, and looked round. Ah! he caught the Crow, and plucked all the\nfeathers out of his head, all but one tuft; he powdered ginger and\ncummin, mixed it up with butter-milk, and rubbed it well all over the\nbird's body.\n\n\"That's for spoiling my master's dinner and making me throw it away!\"\nsaid he, and threw him into his basket. Oh, how it hurt!\n\nBy-and-by the Pigeon came in, and saw the Crow lying there, making a\ngreat noise. He made great game of him, and repeated a verse of\npoetry:\n\n    \"Who is this tufted crane I see\n    Lying where he's no right to be?\n    Come out! my friend, the crow is near,\n    And he may do you harm, I fear!\"\n\nTo this the Crow answered with another:\n\n    \"No tufted crane am I--no, no!\n    I'm nothing but a greedy crow.\n    I would not do as I was told,\n    So now I'm plucked, as you behold.\"\n\nAnd the Pigeon rejoined with a third verse:\n\n    \"You'll come to grief again, I know--\n    It is your nature to do so;\n    If people make a dish of meat,\n    'Tis not for little birds to eat.\"\n\nThen the Pigeon flew away, saying: \"I can't live with this creature\nany longer.\" And the Crow lay there groaning till he died.\n\n\n\n\nNotes and References\n\n\nThe story literature of India is in a large measure the outcome of the\nmoral revolution of the peninsula connected with the name of Gautama\nBuddha. As the influence of his life and doctrines grew, a tendency\narose to connect all the popular stories of India round the great\nteacher. This could be easily effected owing to the wide spread of the\nbelief in metempsychosis. All that was told of the sages of the past\ncould be interpreted of the Buddha by representing them as\npre-incarnations of him. Even with Fables, or beast-tales, this could\nbe done, for the Hindoos were Darwinists long before Darwin, and\nregarded beasts as cousins of men and stages of development in the\nprogress of the soul through the ages. Thus, by identifying the Buddha\nwith the heroes of all folk-tales and the chief characters in the\nbeast-drolls, the Buddhists were enabled to incorporate the whole of\nthe story-store of Hindostan in their sacred books, and enlist on\ntheir side the tale-telling instincts of men.\n\nIn making Buddha the centre figure of the popular literature of India,\nhis followers also invented the Frame as a method of literary art. The\nidea of connecting a number of disconnected stories familiar to us\nfrom _The Arabian Nights_, Boccaccio's _Decamerone_, Chaucer's\n_Canterbury Tales_, or even _Pickwick_, is directly traceable to the\nplan of making Buddha the central figure of India folk-literature.\nCuriously enough, the earliest instance of this in Buddhist literature\nwas intended to be a Decameron, ten tales of Buddha's previous births,\ntold of each of the ten Perfections. Asvagosha, the earlier Boccaccio,\ndied when he had completed thirty-four of the Birth-Tales. But other\ncollections were made, and at last a corpus of the JATAKAS, or\nBirth-Tales of the Buddha, was carried over to Ceylon, possibly as\nearly as the first introduction of Buddhism, 241 B.C. There they have\nremained till the present day, and have at last been made accessible\nin a complete edition in the original Pali by Prof. Fausb\u00f6ll.\n\nThese JATAKAS, as we now have them, are enshrined in a commentary on\nthe _gathas_, or moral verses, written in Ceylon by one of\nBuddhaghosa's school in the fifth century A.D. They invariably begin\nwith a \"Story of the Present,\" an incident in Buddha's life which\ncalls up to him a \"Story of the Past,\" a folk-tale in which he had\nplayed a part during one of his former incarnations. Thus the fable of\nthe Lion and the Crane, which opens the present collection, is\nintroduced by a \"Story of the Present\" in the following words:--\n\n\"A service have we done thee\" [the opening words of the _gatha_ or\nmoral verse]. \"This the Master told while living at Jetavana\nconcerning Devadatta's treachery. Not only now, O Bhickkus, but in a\nformer existence was Devadatta ungrateful. And having said this he\ntold a tale.\" Then follows the tale as given above (pp. 1, 2), and the\ncommentary concludes: \"The Master, having given the lesson, summed up\nthe Jataka thus: 'At that time, the Lion was Devadatta, and the Crane\nwas I myself.'\" Similarly, with each story of the past the Buddha\nidentifies himself, or is mentioned as identical with, the virtuous\nhero of the folk-tale. These Jatakas are 550 in number, and have been\nreckoned to include some 2000 tales. Some of these had been translated\nby Mr. Rhys-Davids (_Buddhist Birth Stories, I._, Tr\u00fcbner's Oriental\nLibrary, 1880), Prof. Fausb\u00f6ll (_Five Jatakas_, Copenhagen), and Dr.\nR. Morris (_Folk-Lore Journal_, vols. ii.-v.). A few exist sculptured\non the earliest Buddhist Stupas. Thus several of the circular figure\ndesigns on the reliefs from Amaravati, now on the grand staircase of\nthe British Museum, represent Jatakas, or previous births of the\nBuddha.\n\nSome of the Jatakas bear a remarkable resemblance to some of the most\nfamiliar FABLES OF \u00c6SOP. So close is the resemblance, indeed, that it\nis impossible not to surmise an historical relation between the two.\nWhat this relation is I have discussed at considerable length in the\n\"History of the \u00c6sopic Fable,\" which forms the introductory volume to\nmy edition of Caxton's _Esope_ (London, D. Nutt, \"Biblioth\u00e8que de\nCarabas,\" 1889). In this place I can only roughly summarise my\nresults. I conjecture that a collection of fables existed in India\nbefore Buddha and independently of the Jatakas, and connected with the\nname of Kasyapa, who was afterwards made by the Buddhists into the\nlatest of the twenty-seven pre-incarnations of the Buddha. This\ncollection of the Fables of Kasyapa was brought to Europe with a\ndeputation from the Cingalese King Chandra Muka Siwa (obiit 52 A.D.)\nto the Emperor Claudius about 50 A.D., and was done into Greek as the\n[Greek: Logoi Lybikoi] of \"Kybises.\" These were utilised by\nBabrius (from whom the Greek \u00c6sop is derived) and Avian, and so came\ninto the European \u00c6sop. I have discussed all those that are to be\nfound in the Jatakas in the \"History\" before mentioned, i. pp. 54-72\n(see Notes i. xv. xx.). In these Notes henceforth I refer to this\n\"History\" as my _\u00c6sop_.\n\nThere were probably other Buddhist collections of a similar nature to\nthe Jatakas with a framework. When the Hindu reaction against Buddhism\ncame, the Brahmins adapted these, with the omission of Buddha as the\ncentral figure. There is scarcely any doubt that the so-called FABLES\nOF BIDPAI were thus derived from Buddhistic sources. In its Indian\nform this is now extant as a _Panchatantra_ or Pentateuch, five books\nof tales connected by a Frame. This collection is of special interest\nto us in the present connection, as it has come to Europe in various\nforms and shapes. I have edited Sir Thomas North's English version of\nan Italian adaptation of a Spanish translation of a Latin version of a\nHebrew translation of an Arabic adaptation of the Pehlevi version of\nthe Indian original (_Fables of Bidpai_, London, D. Nutt,\n\"Biblioth\u00e8que de Carabas,\" 1888). In this I give a genealogical table\nof the various versions, from which I calculate that the tales have\nbeen translated into thirty-eight languages in 112 different versions,\ntwenty different ones in English alone. Their influence on European\nfolk-tales has been very great: it is probable that nearly one-tenth\nof these can be traced to the Bidpai literature. (See Notes v. ix. x.\nxiii. xv.)\n\nOther collections of a similar character, arranged in a frame, and\nderived ultimately from Buddhistic sources, also reached Europe and\nformed popular reading in the Middle Ages. Among these may be\nmentioned THE TALES OF SINDIBAD, known to Europe as _The Seven Sages\nof Rome:_ from this we get the Gellert story (_cf. Celtic Fairy\nTales_), though it also occurs in the Bidpai. Another popular\ncollection was that associated with the life of St. Buddha, who has\nbeen canonised as St. Josaphat: BARLAAM AND JOSAPHAT tells of his\nconversion and much else besides, including the tale of the Three\nCaskets, used by Shakespeare in the _Merchant of Venice_.\n\nSome of the Indian tales reached Europe at the time of the Crusades,\neither orally or in collections no longer extant. The earliest\nselection of these was the _Disciplina Clericalis_ of Petrus Alphonsi,\na Spanish Jew converted about 1106: his tales were to be used as\nseasoning for sermons, and strong seasoning they must have proved.\nAnother Spanish collection of considerably later date was entitled _El\nConde Lucanor_ (Eng. trans. by W. York): this contains the fable of\n_The Man, his Son, and their Ass_, which they ride or carry as the\npopular voice decides. But the most famous collection of this kind\nwas that known as GESTA ROMANORUM, much of which was certainly derived\nfrom Oriental and ultimately Indian sources, and so might more\nappropriately be termed _Gesta Indorum_.\n\nAll these collections, which reached Europe in the twelfth and\nthirteenth centuries, became very popular, and were used by monks and\nfriars to enliven their sermons as EXEMPLA. Prof. Crane has given a\nfull account of this very curious phenomenon in his erudite edition of\nthe _Exempla of Jacques de Vitry_ (Folk Lore Society, 1890). The\nIndian stories were also used by the Italian _Novellieri_, much of\nBoccaccio and his school being derived from this source. As these\nagain gave material for the Elizabethan Drama, chiefly in W. Painter's\n_Palace of Pleasure_, a collection of translated _Novelle_ which I\nhave edited (Lond., 3 vols. 1890), it is not surprising that we can at\ntimes trace portions of Shakespeare back to India. It should also be\nmentioned that one-half of La Fontaine's Fables (Bks. vii.-xii.) are\nderived from Indian sources. (_See_ Note on No. v.)\n\nIn India itself the collection of stories in frames went on and still\ngoes on. Besides those already mentioned there are the stories of\n_Vikram and the Vampire_ (Vetala), translated among others by the late\nSir Richard Burton, and the seventy stories of a parrot (_Suka\nSaptati_). The whole of this literature was summed up by Somadeva, c.\n1200 A.D. in a huge compilation entitled _Katha Sarit Sagara_ (\"Ocean\nof the Stream of Stories\"). Of this work, written in very florid\nstyle, Mr. Tawney has produced a translation in two volumes in the\n_Bibliotheca Indica_. Unfortunately, there is a Divorce Court\natmosphere about the whole book, and my selections from it have been\naccordingly restricted. (Notes, No. xi.)\n\nSo much for a short sketch of Indian folk-tales so far as they have\nbeen reduced to writing in the native literature.[2] The Jatakas are\nprobably the oldest collection of such tales in literature, and the\ngreater part of the rest are demonstrably more than a thousand years\nold. It is certain that much (perhaps one-fifth) of the popular\nliterature of modern Europe is derived from those portions of this\nlarge bulk which came west with the Crusades through the medium of\nArabs and Jews. In his elaborate _Einleitung_ to the _Pantschatantra_,\nthe Indian version of the Fables of Bidpai, Prof. Benfey contended\nwith enormous erudition that the majority of folk-tale incidents were\nto be found in the Bidpai literature. His introduction consisted of\nover 200 monographs on the spread of Indian tales to Europe. He wrote\nin 1859, before the great outburst of folk-tale collection in Europe,\nand he had not thus adequate materials to go about in determining the\nextent of Indian influence on the popular mind of Europe. But he made\nit clear that for beast-tales and for drolls, the majority of those\ncurrent in the mouths of occidental people were derived from Eastern\nand mainly Indian sources. He was not successful, in my opinion, in\ntracing the serious fairy tale to India. Few of the tales in the\nIndian literary collections could be dignified by the name of fairy\ntales, and it was clear that if these were to be traced to India, an\nexamination of the contemporary folk-tales of the peninsula would have\nto be attempted.\n\n[Footnote 2: An admirable and full account of this literature was\ngiven by M. A. Barth in _M\u00e9lusine_, t. iv. No. 12, and t. v. No. 1.\nSee also Table i. of Prof. Rhys-Davids' _Birth Stories_.]\n\nThe collection of current Indian folk-tales has been the work of the\nlast quarter of a century, a work, even after what has been achieved,\nstill in its initial stages. The credit of having begun the process is\ndue to Miss Frere, who, while her father was Governor of the Bombay\nPresidency, took down from the lips of her _ayah_, Anna de Souza, one\nof a Lingaet family from Goa who had been Christian for three\ngenerations, the tales she afterwards published with Mr. Murray in\n1868, under the title, \"_Old Deccan Days, or, Indian Fairy Legends\ncurrent in Southern India, collected from oral tradition by M. Frere,\nwith an introduction and notes by Sir Bartle Frere_.\" Her example was\nfollowed by Miss Stokes in her _Indian Fairy Tales_ (London, Ellis &\nWhite, 1880), who took down her tales from two _ayahs_ and a\n_Khitmatgar_, all of them Bengalese--the _ayahs_ Hindus, and the man a\nMohammedan. Mr. Ralston introduced the volume with some remarks which\ndealt too much with sun-myths for present-day taste. Another\ncollection from Bengal was that of Lal Behari Day, a Hindu gentleman,\nin his _Folk-Tales of Bengal_ (London, Macmillan, 1883). The Panjab\nand the Kashmir then had their turn: Mrs. Steel collected, and Captain\n(now Major) Temple edited and annotated, their _Wideawake Stories_\n(London, Tr\u00fcbner, 1884), stories capitally told and admirably\nannotated. Captain Temple increased the value of this collection by a\nremarkable analysis of all the incidents contained in the two hundred\nIndian folk-tales collected up to this date. It is not too much to say\nthat this analysis marks an onward step in the scientific study of the\nfolk-tale: there is such a thing, derided as it may be. I have\nthroughout the Notes been able to draw attention to Indian parallels\nby a simple reference to Major Temple's Analysis.\n\nMajor Temple has not alone himself collected: he has been the cause\nthat many others have collected. In the pages of the _Indian\nAntiquary_, edited by him, there have appeared from time to time\nfolk-tales collected from all parts of India. Some of these have been\nissued separately. Sets of tales from Southern India, collected by the\nPandit Natesa Sastri, have been issued under the title _Folk-Lore of\nSouthern India_, three fascicules of which have been recently\nre-issued by Mrs. Kingscote under the title, _Tales of the Sun_ (W. H.\nAllen, 1891): it would have been well if the identity of the two works\nhad been clearly explained. The largest addition to our knowledge of\nthe Indian folk-tale that has been made since _Wideawake Stories_ is\nthat contained in Mr. Knowles' _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_ (Tr\u00fcbner's\nOriental Library, 1887), sixty-three stories, some of great length.\nThese, with Mr. Campbell's _Santal Tales_ (1892); Ramaswami Raju's\n_Indian Fables_ (London, Sonnenschein, n.d.); M. Thornhill, _Indian\nFairy Tales_ (London, 1889); and E. J. Robinson, _Tales of S. India_\n(1885), together with those contained in books of travel like\nThornton's _Bannu_ or Smeaton's _Karens of Burmah_ bring up the list\nof printed Indian folk-tales to over 350--a respectable total indeed,\nbut a mere drop in the ocean of the stream of stories that must exist\nin such a huge population as that of India: the Central Provinces in\nparticular are practically unexplored. There are doubtless many\ncollections still unpublished. Col. Lewin has large numbers, besides\nthe few published in his _Lushai Grammar_; and Mr. M. L. Dames has a\nnumber of Baluchi tales which I have been privileged to use.\nAltogether, India now ranks among the best represented countries for\nprinted folk-tales, coming only after Russia (1500), Germany (1200),\nItaly and France (1000 each.)[3] Counting the ancient with the modern,\nIndia has probably some 600 to 700 folk-tales printed and translated\nin accessible form. There should be enough material to determine the\nvexed question of the relations between the European and the Indian\ncollections.\n\n[Footnote 3: Finland boasts of 12,000, but most of these lie unprinted\namong the archives of the Helsingfors Literary Society.]\n\nThis question has taken a new departure with the researches of M.\nEmanuel Cosquin in his _Contes populaires de Lorraine_ (Paris, 1886,\n2^e tirage, 1890), undoubtedly the most important contribution to the\nscientific study of the folk-tale since the Grimms. M. Cosquin gives\nin the annotations to the eighty-four tales which he has collected in\nLorraine a mass of information as to the various forms which the tales\ntake in other countries of Europe and in the East. In my opinion, the\nwork he has done for the European folk-tale is even more valuable than\nthe conclusions he draws from it as to the relations with India. He\nhas taken up the work which Wilhelm Grimm dropped in 1859, and shown\nfrom the huge accumulations of folk-tales that have appeared during\nthe last thirty years that there is a common fund of folk-tales which\nevery country of Europe without exception possesses, though this does\nnot of course preclude them from possessing others that are not shared\nby the rest. M. Cosquin further contends that the whole of these have\ncome from the East, ultimately from India, not by literary\ntransmission, as Benfey contended, but by oral transmission. He has\ncertainly shown that very many of the most striking incidents common\nto European folk-tales are also to be found in Eastern _m\u00e4hrchen_.\nWhat, however, he has failed to show is that some of these may not\nhave been carried out to the Eastern world by Europeans. Borrowing\ntales is a mutual process, and when Indian meets European, European\nmeets Indian; which borrowed from which, is a question which we have\nvery few criteria to decide. It should be added that Mr W. A. Clouston\nhas in England collected with exemplary industry a large number of\nparallels between Indian and European folk-tale incidents in his\n_Popular Tales and Fictions_ (Edinburgh, 2 vols., 1887) and _Book of\nNoodles_ (London, 1888). Mr Clouston has not openly expressed his\nconviction that all folk-tales are Indian in origin: he prefers to\nconvince us _non vi sed s\u00e6pe cadendo_. He has certainly made out a\ngood case for tracing all European drolls, or comic folk-tales, from\nthe East.\n\nWith the fairy tale strictly so called--_i.e._, the serious folk-tale\nof romantic adventure--I am more doubtful. It is mainly a modern\nproduct in India as in Europe, so far as literary evidence goes. The\nvast bulk of the Jatakas does not contain a single example worthy the\nname, nor does the Bidpai literature. Some of Somadeva's tales,\nhowever, approach the nature of fairy tales, but there are several\nCeltic tales which can be traced to an earlier date than his (1200\nA.D.) and are equally near to fairy tales. Yet it is dangerous to\ntrust to mere non-appearance in literature as proof of non-existence\namong the folk. To take our own tales here in England, there is not a\nsingle instance of a reference to _Jack and the Beanstalk_ for the\nlast three hundred years, yet it is undoubtedly a true folk-tale. And\nit is indeed remarkable how many of the _formul\u00e6_ of fairy tales have\nbeen found of recent years in India. Thus, the _Magic Fiddle_, found\namong the Santals by Mr. Campbell in two variants (see Notes on vi.),\ncontains the germ idea of the wide-spread story represented in Great\nBritain by the ballad of _Binnorie_ (see _English Fairy Tales_, No.\nix.). Similarly, Mr. Knowles' collection has added considerably to the\nnumber of Indian variants of European \"formul\u00e6\" beyond those noted by\nM. Cosquin.\n\nIt is still more striking as regards _incidents_. In a paper read\nbefore the Folk-Lore Congress of 1891, and reprinted in the\n_Transactions_, pp. 76 _seq._, I have drawn up a list of some 630\nincidents found in common among European folk-tales (including\ndrolls). Of these, I reckon that about 250 have been already found\namong Indian folk-tales, and the number is increased by each new\ncollection that is made or printed. The moral of this is, that India\nbelongs to a group of peoples who have a common store of stories;\nIndia belongs to Europe for purposes of comparative folk-tales.\n\nCan we go further and say that India is the source of all the\nincidents that are held in common by European children? I think we may\nanswer \"Yes\" as regards droll incidents, the travels of many of which\nwe can trace, and we have the curious result that European children\nowe their earliest laughter to Hindu wags. As regards the serious\nincidents further inquiry is needed. Thus, we find the incident of an\n\"external soul\" (Life Index, Captain Temple very appropriately named\nit) in Asbjornsen's _Norse Tales_ and in Miss Frere's _Old Deccan\nDays_ (see Notes on _Punchkin_). Yet the latter is a very suspicious\nsource, since Miss Frere derived her tales from a Christian _ayah_\nwhose family had been in Portuguese Goa for a hundred years. May they\nnot have got the story of the giant with his soul outside his body\nfrom some European sailor touching at Goa? This is to a certain extent\nnegatived by the fact of the frequent occurrence of the incident in\nIndian folk-tales (Captain Temple gave a large number of instances in\n_Wideawake Stories_, pp. 404-5). On the other hand, Mr. Frazer in his\n_Golden Bough_ has shown the wide spread of the idea among all savage\nor semi-savage tribes. (See Note on No. iv.)\n\nIn this particular case we may be doubtful; but in others, again--as\nthe incident of the rat's tail up nose (see Notes on _The Charmed\nRing_)--there can be little doubt of the Indian origin. And generally,\nso far as the incidents are marvellous and of true fairy-tale\ncharacter, the presumption is in favour of India, because of the\nvitality of animism or metempsychosis in India throughout all historic\ntime. No Hindu would doubt the fact of animals speaking or of men\ntransformed into plants and animals. The European may once have had\nthese beliefs, and may still hold them implicitly as \"survivals\"; but\nin the \"survival\" stage they cannot afford material for artistic\ncreation, and the fact that the higher minds of Europe for the last\nthousand years have discountenanced these beliefs has not been\nentirely without influence. Of one thing there is practical certainty:\nthe fairy tales that are common to the Indo-European world were\ninvented once for all in a certain locality, and thence spread to all\nthe countries in culture contact with the original source. The mere\nfact that contiguous countries have more similarities in their story\nstore than distant ones is sufficient to prove this: indeed, the fact\nthat any single country has spread throughout it a definite set of\nfolk-tales as distinctive as its flora and fauna, is sufficient to\nprove it. It is equally certain that not all folk-tales have come from\none source, for each country has tales peculiar to itself. The\nquestion is as to the source of the tales that are common to all\nEuropean children, and increasing evidence seems to show that this\ncommon nucleus is derived from India and India alone. The Hindus have\nbeen more successful than others, because of two facts: they have had\nthe appropriate \"atmosphere\" of metempsychosis, and they have also had\nspread among the people sufficient literary training and mental grip\nto invent plots. The Hindu tales have ousted the native European,\nwhich undoubtedly existed independently; indeed, many still survive,\nespecially in Celtic lands. Exactly in the same way, Perrault's tales\nhave ousted the older English folk-tales, and it is with the utmost\ndifficulty that one can get true English fairy tales because _Red\nRiding Hood_, _Cinderella_, _Blue Beard_, _Puss in Boots_ and the\nrest, have survived in the struggle for existence among English\nfolk-tales. So far as Europe has a common store of fairy tales, it\nowes this to India.\n\nI do not wish to be misunderstood. I do not hold with Benfey that all\nEuropean folk-tales are derived from the Bidpai literature and similar\nliterary products, nor with M. Cosquin that they are all derived from\nIndia. The latter scholar has proved that there is a nucleus of\nstories in every European land which is common to all. I calculate\nthat this includes from 30 to 50 per cent. of the whole, and it is\nthis common stock of Europe that I regard as coming from India mainly\nat the time of the Crusades, and chiefly by oral transmission. It\nincludes all the beast tales and most of the drolls, but evidence is\nstill lacking about the more serious fairy tales, though it is\nincreasing with every fresh collection of folk-tales in India, the\ngreat importance of which is obvious from the above considerations.\n\nIn the following Notes I give, as on the two previous occasions, the\n_source_ whence I derived the tale, then _parallels_, and finally\n_remarks_. For Indian _parallels_ I have been able to refer to Major\nTemple's remarkable Analysis of Indian Folk-tale incidents at the end\nof _Wideawake Stories_ (pp. 386-436), for European ones to my\nalphabetical List of Incidents, with bibliographical references, in\n_Transactions of Folk-Lore Congress_, 1892, pp. 87-98. My _remarks_\nhave been mainly devoted to tracing the relation between the Indian\nand the European tales, with the object of showing that the latter\nhave been derived from the former. I have, however, to some extent\nhandicapped myself, as I have avoided giving again the Indian versions\nof stories already given in _English Fairy Tales_ or _Celtic Fairy\nTales_.\n\n\nI. THE LION AND THE CRANE.\n\n_Source._--V. Fausb\u00f6ll, _Five Jatakas_, Copenhagen, 1861, pp. 35-8,\ntext and translation of the _Javasakuna Jataka_. I have ventured\nto English Prof. Fausb\u00f6ll's version, which was only intended as a\n\"crib\" to the Pali. For the omitted Introduction, see _supra_.\n\n_Parallels._--I have given a rather full collection of parallels,\nrunning to about a hundred numbers, in my _\u00c6sop_, pp. 232-4. The chief\nof these are: (1) for the East, the Midrashic version (\"Lion and\nEgyptian Partridge\"), in the great Rabbinic commentary on Genesis\n(_Bereshith-rabba_, c. 64); (2) in classical antiquity, Ph\u00e6drus, i. 8\n(\"Wolf and Crane\"), and Babrius, 94 (\"Wolf and Heron\"), and the Greek\nproverb Suidas, ii. 248 (\"Out of the Wolf's Mouth\"); (3) in the Middle\nAges, the so-called Greek _\u00c6sop_, ed. Halm, 276 _b_, really prose\nversions of Babrius and \"Romulus,\" or prose of Ph\u00e6drus, i. 8, also the\nRomulus of Ademar (fl. 1030), 64; it occurs also on the Bayeux\nTapestry, in Marie de France, 7, and in Benedict of Oxford's _Mishle\nShualim_ (Heb.), 8; (4) Stainh\u00f6wel took it from the \"Romulus\" into his\nGerman \u00c6sop (1480), whence all the modern European \u00c6sops are derived.\n\n_Remarks._--I have selected _The Wolf and the Crane_ as my typical\nexample in my \"History of the \u00c6sopic Fable,\" and can only give here a\nrough summary of the results I there arrived at concerning the fable,\nmerely premising that these results are at present no more than\nhypotheses. The similarity of the Jataka form with that familiar to\nus, and derived by us in the last resort from Ph\u00e6drus, is so striking\nthat few will deny some historical relation between them. I conjecture\nthat the Fable originated in India, and came West by two different\nroutes. First, it came by oral tradition to Egypt, as one of the\nLibyan Fables which the ancients themselves distinguished from the\n\u00c6sopic Fables. It was, however, included by Demetrius Phalereus,\ntyrant of Athens, and founder of the Alexandrian library c. 300 B.C.,\nin his _Assemblies of \u00c6sopic Fables_, which I have shown to be the\nsource of Ph\u00e6drus' Fables c. 30 A.D. Besides this, it came from Ceylon\nin the Fables of Kybises--_i.e._, Kasyapa the Buddha--c. 50 A.D., was\nadapted into Hebrew, and used for political purposes, by Rabbi Joshua\nben Chananyah in a harangue to the Jews c. 120 A.D., begging them to be\npatient while within the jaws of Rome. The Hebrew form uses the lion,\nnot the wolf, as the ingrate, which enables us to decide on the Indian\n_provenance_ of the Midrashic version. It may be remarked that the use\nof the lion in this and other Jatakas is indirectly a testimony to\ntheir great age, as the lion has become rarer and rarer in India\nduring historic times, and is now confined to the Gir forest of\nKathi\u00e1war, where only a dozen specimens exist, and are strictly\npreserved.\n\nThe verses at the end are the earliest parts of the Jataka, being in\nmore archaic Pali than the rest: the story is told by the commentator\n(c. 400 A.D.) to illustrate them. It is probable that they were\nbrought over on the first introduction of Buddhism into Ceylon, c. 241\nB.C. This would give them an age of over two thousand years, nearly\nthree hundred years earlier than Ph\u00e6drus, from whom comes our _Wolf\nand Crane_.\n\n\nII. PRINCESS LABAM.\n\n_Source._--Miss Stokes, _Indian Fairy Tales_, No. xxii. pp. 153-63,\ntold by M\u00faniy\u00e1, one of the ayahs. I have left it unaltered, except\nthat I have replaced \"God\" by \"Khuda,\" the word originally used (see\nNotes _l. c._, p. 237).\n\n_Parallels._--The tabu, as to a particular direction, occurs in other\nIndian stories as well as in European folk-tales (see notes on Stokes, p.\n286). The _grateful animals_ theme occurs in \"The Soothsayer's Son\"\n(_infra_, No. x.), and frequently in Indian folk-tales (see Temple's\nAnalysis, III. i. 5-7; _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 412-3). The thorn in the\ntiger's foot is especially common (Temple, _l. c._, 6, 9), and recalls the\nstory of Androclus, which occurs in the derivates of Ph\u00e6drus, and may thus\nbe Indian in origin (see Benfey, _Panschatantra_, i. 211, and the parallels\ngiven in my _\u00c6sop_, Ro. iii. I. p. 243). The theme is, however, equally\nfrequent in European folk-tales: see my List of Incidents, _Proc. Folk-Lore\nCongress_, p. 91, s.v. \"Grateful Animals\" and \"Gifts by Grateful Animals.\"\nSimilarly, the \"Bride Wager\" incident at the end is common to a large\nnumber of Indian and European folk-tales (Temple, Analysis, p. 430; my\nList, _l.c. sub voce_). The tasks are also equally common (_cf._ \"Battle\nof the Birds\" in _Celtic Fairy Tales_), though the exact forms as given in\n\"Princess Labam\" are not known in Europe.\n\n_Remarks._--We have here a concrete instance of the relation of Indian\nand European fairy-tales. The human mind may be the same everywhere,\nbut it is not likely to hit upon the sequence of incidents, _Direction\ntabu_--_Grateful Animals_--_Bride-wager_--_Tasks_, by accident, or\nindependently: Europe must have borrowed from India, or India from\nEurope. As this must have occurred within historic times, indeed\nwithin the last thousand years, when even European peasants are not\nlikely to have _invented_, even if they believed, in the incident of\nthe grateful animals, the probability is in favour of borrowing from\nIndia, possibly through the intermediation of Arabs at the time of\nthe Crusades. It is only a probability, but we cannot in any case\nreach more than probability in this matter, just at present.\n\n\nIII. LAMBIKIN.\n\n_Source._--Steel-Temple, _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 69-72, originally\npublished in _Indian Antiquary_, xii. 175. The droll is common\nthroughout the Panjab.\n\n_Parallels._--The similarity of the concluding episode with the finish\nof the \"Three Little Pigs\" (_Eng. Fairy Tales_, No. xiv.) In my notes\non that droll I have pointed out that the pigs were once goats or kids\nwith \"hair on their chinny chin chin.\" This brings the tale a stage\nnearer to the Lambikin.\n\n_Remarks._--The similarity of Pig No. 3 rolling down hill in the churn\nand the Lambikin in the Drumikin can scarcely be accidental, though,\nit must be confessed, the tale has undergone considerable modification\nbefore it reached England.\n\n\nIV. PUNCHKIN.\n\n_Source._--Miss Frere, _Old Deccan Days_, pp. 1-16, from her ayah,\nAnna de Souza, of a Lingaet family settled and Christianised at Goa\nfor three generations. I should perhaps add that a Prudhan is a Prime\nMinister, or Vizier; Punts are the same, and Sirdars, nobles.\n\n_Parallels._--The son of seven mothers is a characteristic Indian\nconception, for which see Notes on \"The Son of Seven Queens\" in this\ncollection, No. xvi. The mother transformed, envious stepmother, ring\nrecognition, are all incidents common to East and West;\nbibliographical references for parallels may be found under these\ntitles in my List of Incidents. The external soul of the ogre has been\nstudied by Mr. E. Clodd in _Folk-Lore Journal_, vol. ii., \"The\nPhilosophy of Punchkin,\" and still more elaborately in the section,\n\"The External Soul in Folk-tales,\" in Mr. Frazer's _Golden Bough_, ii.\npp. 296-326. See also Major Temple's Analysis, II. iii., _Wideawake\nStories_, pp. 404-5, who there gives the Indian parallels.\n\n_Remarks._--Both Mr. Clodd and Mr. Frazer regard the essence of the\ntale to consist in the conception of an external soul or \"life-index,\"\nand they both trace in this a \"survival\" of savage philosophy, which\nthey consider occurs among all men at a certain stage of culture. But\nthe most cursory examination of the sets of tales containing these\nincidents in Mr. Frazer's analyses shows that many, indeed the\nmajority, of these tales cannot be independent of one another; for\nthey contain not alone the incident of an external materialised soul,\nbut the further point that this is contained in something else, which\nis enclosed in another thing, which is again surrounded by a wrapper.\nThis Chinese ball arrangement is found in the Deccan (\"Punchkin\"); in\nBengal (Day, _Folk-Tales of Bengal_); in Russia (Ralston, p. 103\n_seq._, \"Koschkei the Deathless,\" also in Mr. Lang's _Red Fairy\nBook_); in Servia (Mijatovics, _Servian Folk-Lore_, p. 172); in South\nSlavonia (Wratislaw, p. 225); in Rome (Miss Busk, p. 164); in Albania\n(Dozon, p. 132 _seq._); in Transylvania (Haltrich, No. 34); in\nSchleswig-Holstein (M\u00fcllenhoff, p. 404); in Norway (Asbj\u00f6rnsen, No.\n36, _ap._ Dasent, _Pop. Tales_, p. 55, \"The Giant who had no Heart in\nhis Body\"); and finally, in the Hebrides (Campbell, _Pop. Tales_, p.\n10, _cf. Celtic Fairy Tales_, No. xvii., \"Sea Maiden\"). Here we have\nthe track of this remarkable idea of an external soul enclosed in a\nsuccession of wrappings, which we can trace from Hindostan to the\nHebrides.\n\nIt is difficult to imagine that we have not here the actual migration\nof the tale from East to West. In Bengal we have the soul \"in a\nnecklace, in a box, in the heart of a _boal_ fish, in a tank\"; in\nAlbania \"it is in a pigeon, in a hare, in the silver tusk of a wild\nboar\"; in Rome it is \"in a stone, in the head of a bird, in the head\nof a leveret, in the middle head of a seven-headed hydra\"; in Russia\n\"it is in an egg, in a duck, in a hare, in a casket, in an oak\"; in\nServia it is \"in a board, in the heart of a fox, in a mountain\"; in\nTransylvania \"it is in a light, in an egg, in a duck, in a pond, in a\nmountain\"; in Norway it is \"in an egg, in a duck, in a well, in a\nchurch, on an island, in a lake\"; in the Hebrides it is \"in an egg, in\nthe belly of a duck, in the belly of a wether, under a flagstone on\nthe threshold.\" It is impossible to imagine the human mind\nindependently imagining such bizarre convolutions. They were borrowed\nfrom one nation to the other, and till we have reason shown to the\ncontrary, the original lender was a Hindu. I should add that the mere\nconception of an external soul occurs in the oldest Egyptian tale of\n\"The Two Brothers,\" but the wrappings are absent.\n\n\nV. THE BROKEN POT.\n\n_Source._--_Pantschatantra_, V. ix., tr. Benfey, ii. 345-6.\n\n_Parallels._--Benfey, in \u00a7 209 of his _Einleitung_, gives\nbibliographical references to most of those which are given at length\nin Prof. M. M\u00fcller's brilliant essay on \"The Migration of Fables\"\n(_Selected Essays_, i. 500-76), which is entirely devoted to the\ntravels of the fable from India to La Fontaine. See also Mr.\nClouston, _Pop. Tales_, ii. 432 _seq._ I have translated the Hebrew\nversion in my essay, \"Jewish Influence on the Diffusion of\nFolk-Tales,\" pp. 6-7. Our proverb, \"Do not count your chickens before\nthey are hatched,\" is ultimately to be derived from India.\n\n_Remarks._--The stories of Alnaschar, the Barber's fifth brother in\nthe _Arabian Nights_, and of La Perette, who counted her chickens\nbefore they were hatched, in La Fontaine, are demonstrably derived\nfrom the same Indian original from which our story was obtained. The\ntravels of the \"Fables of Bidpai\" from India to Europe are well known\nand distinctly traceable. I have given a rough summary of the chief\ncritical results in the introduction to my edition of the earliest\nEnglish version of the _Fables of Bidpai_, by Sir Thomas North, of\nPlutarch fame (London, D. Nutt, \"Biblioth\u00e8que de Carabas,\" 1888),\nwhere I have given an elaborate genealogical table of the\nmultitudinous versions. La Fontaine's version, which has rendered the\nfable so familiar to us all, comes from Bonaventure des Periers,\n_Contes et Nouvelles_, who got it from the _Dialogus Creaturarum_ of\nNicholaus Pergamenus, who derived it from the _Sermones_ of Jacques de\nVitry (see Prof. Crane's edition, No. li.), who probably derived it\nfrom the _Directorium Human\u00e6 Vit\u00e6_ of John of Capua, a converted Jew,\nwho translated it from the Hebrew version of the Arabic _Kalilah wa\nDimnah_, which was itself derived from the old Syriac version of a\nPehlevi translation of the original Indian work, probably called after\nKarataka and Damanaka, the names of two jackals who figure in the\nearlier stories of the book. Prof. Rhys-Davids informs me that these\nnames are more akin to Pali than to Sanskrit, which makes it still\nmore probable that the whole literature is ultimately to be derived\nfrom a Buddhist source.\n\nThe theme of La Perette is of interest as showing the _literary_\ntransmission of tales from Orient to Occident. It also shows the\npossibility of an influence of literary on oral tradition, as is shown\nby our proverb, and by the fact, which Benfey mentions, that La\nFontaine's story has had influence on two of Grimm's tales, Nos. 164,\n168.\n\n\nVI. THE MAGIC FIDDLE.\n\n_Source._--A. Campbell, _Santal Folk-Tales_, 1892, pp. 52-6, with some\nverbal alterations. A Bonga is the presiding spirit of a certain kind\nof rice land; Doms and Hadis are low-caste aborigines, whose touch is\nconsidered polluting. The Santals are a forest tribe, who live in the\nSantal Parganas, 140 miles N.W. of Calcutta (Sir W. W. Hunter, _The\nIndian Empire_, 57-60).\n\n_Parallels._--Another version occurs in Campbell, p. 106 _seq._, which\nshows that the story is popular among the Santals. It is obvious,\nhowever, that neither version contains the real finish of the story,\nwhich must have contained the denunciation of the magic fiddle of the\nmurderous sisters. This would bring it under the formula of _The\nSinging Bone_, which M. Monseur has recently been studying with a\nremarkable collection of European variants in the Bulletin of the\nWallon Folk-Lore Society of Li\u00e8ge (_cf. Eng. Fairy Tales_, No. ix.).\nThere is a singing bone in Steel-Temple's _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 127\n_seq._ (\"Little Anklebone\").\n\n_Remarks._--Here we have another theme of the common store of European\nfolk-tales found in India. Unfortunately, the form in which it occurs\nis mutilated, and we cannot draw any definite conclusion from it.\n\n\nVII. THE CRUEL CRANE OUTWITTED.\n\n_Source._--The Baka-Jataka, Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 38, tr. Rhys-Davids, pp.\n315-21. The Buddha this time is the Genius of the Tree.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n_Parallels._--This Jataka got into the Bidpai literature, and\noccurs in all its multitudinous offshoots (_see_ Benfey, _Einleitung_,\n\u00a7 60) among others in the earliest English translation by North (my\nedition, pp. 118-22), where the crane becomes \"a great Paragone of\nIndia (of those that liue a hundredth yeares and neuer mue their\nfeathers).\" The crab, on hearing the ill news \"called to Parliament\nall the Fishes of the Lake,\" and before all are devoured destroys the\nParagon, as in the Jataka, and returned to the remaining fishes, who\n\"all with one consent gave hir many a thanke.\"\n\n_Remarks._--An interesting point, to which I have drawn attention in\nmy Introduction to North's Bidpai, is the probability that the\nillustrations of the tales as well as the tales themselves, were\ntranslated, so to speak, from one country to another. We can trace\nthem in Latin, Hebrew, and Arabic MSS., and a few are extant on\nBuddhist Stupas. Under these circumstances, it may be of interest to\ncompare with Mr. Batten's conception of the Crane and the Crab\n(_supra_, p. 50) that of the German artist who illustrated the first\nedition of the Latin Bidpai, probably following the traditional\nrepresentations of the MS., which itself could probably trace back to\nIndia.\n\n\nVIII. LOVING LAILI.\n\n_Source._--Miss Stokes, _Indian Fairy Tales_, pp. 73-84. Majnun and\nLaili are conventional names for lovers, the Romeo and Juliet of\nHindostan.\n\n_Parallels._--Living in animals' bellies occurs elsewhere in Miss\nStokes' book, pp. 66, 124; also in Miss Frere's, 188. The restoration\nof beauty by fire occurs as a frequent theme (Temple, Analysis, III.\nvi. f. p. 418). Readers will be reminded of the _d\u00e9nouement_ of Mr.\nRider Haggard's _She_. Resuscitation from ashes has been used very\neffectively by Mr. Lang in his delightful _Prince Prigio_.\n\n_Remarks._--The white skin and blue eyes of Prince Majnun deserve\nattention. They are possibly a relic of the days of Aryan conquest,\nwhen the fair-skinned, fair-haired Aryan conquered the swarthier\naboriginals. The name for caste in Sanskrit is _varna_, \"colour\"; and\none Hindu cannot insult another more effectually than by calling him a\nblack man. _Cf._ Stokes, pp. 238-9, who suggests that the red hair is\nsomething solar, and derived from myths of the solar hero.\n\n\nIX. THE TIGER, THE BRAHMAN, AND THE JACKAL.\n\n_Source._--Steel-Temple, _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 116-20; first\npublished in _Indian Antiquary_, xii. p. 170 _seq._\n\n_Parallels._--No less than 94 parallels are given by Prof. K. Krohn in\nhis elaborate discussion of this fable in his dissertation, _Mann und\nFuchs_, (Helsingfors, 1891), pp. 38-60; to which may be added three\nIndian variants, omitted by him, but mentioned by Capt. Temple, _l.\nc._, p. 324, in the _Bh\u00e2gavata Pur\u00e2na_, the _Gul Bak\u00e2ol\u00ee_ and _Ind.\nAnt._ xii. 177; and a couple more in my _\u00c6sop_, p. 253: add Smeaton,\n_Karens_, p. 126.\n\n_Remarks._--Prof. Krohn comes to the conclusion that the majority of\nthe oral forms of the tale come from literary versions (p. 47),\nwhereas the _Reynard_ form has only had influence on a single variant.\nHe reduces the century of variants to three type forms. The first\noccurs in two Egyptian versions collected in the present day, as well\nas in Petrus Alphonsi in the twelfth century, and the _Fabul\u00e6\nExtravagantes_ of the thirteenth or fourteenth: here the ingrate\nanimal is a crocodile, which asks to be carried away from a river\nabout to dry up, and there is only one judge. The second is that\ncurrent in India and represented by the story in the present\ncollection: here the judges are three. The third is that current among\nWestern Europeans, which has spread to S. Africa and N. and S.\nAmerica: also three judges. Prof. K. Krohn counts the first the\noriginal form, owing to the single judge and the naturalness of the\nopening, by which the critical situation is brought about. The further\nquestion arises, whether this form, though found in Egypt now, is\nindigenous there, and if so, how it got to the East. Prof. Krohn\ngrants the possibility of the Egyptian form having been invented in\nIndia and carried to Egypt, and he allows that the European forms have\nbeen influenced by the Indian. The \"Egyptian\" form is found in Burmah\n(Smeaton, _l. c._, p. 128), as well as the Indian, a fact of which\nProf. K. Krohn was unaware though it turns his whole argument. The\nevidence we have of other folk-tales of the beast-epic emanating from\nIndia improves the chances of this also coming from that source. One\nthing at least is certain: all these hundred variants come ultimately\nfrom one source. The incident \"Inside again\" of the _Arabian Nights_\n(the Djinn and the bottle) and European tales is also a secondary\nderivate.\n\n\nX. THE SOOTHSAYER'S SON.\n\n_Source._--Mrs. Kingscote, _Tales of the Sun_ (p. 11 _seq._), from\nPandit Natesa Sastri's _Folk-Lore of Southern India_, pt. ii.,\noriginally from _Ind. Antiquary_. I have considerably condensed and\nmodified the somewhat Babu English of the original.\n\n_Parallels._--See Benfey, _Pantschatantra_, \u00a7 71, i. pp. 193-222, who\nquotes the _Karma Jataka_ as the ultimate source: it also occurs in\nthe _Saccankira Jataka_ (Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 73), trans. Rev. R. Morris,\n_Folk-Lore Jour._ iii. 348 _seq._ The story of the ingratitude of man\ncompared with the gratitude of beasts came early to the West, where it\noccurs in the _Gesta Romanorum_, c. 119. It was possibly from an early\nform of this collection that Richard Coeur de Lion got the story,\nand used it to rebuke the ingratitude of the English nobles on his\nreturn in 1195. Matthew Paris tells the story, _sub anno_ (it is an\naddition of his to Ralph Disset), _Hist. Major_, ed. Luard, ii. 413-6,\nhow a lion and a serpent and a Venetian named Vitalis were saved from\na pit by a woodman, Vitalis promising him half his fortune, fifty\ntalents. The lion brings his benefactor a leveret, the serpent \"gemmam\npretiosam,\" probably \"the precious jewel in his head\" to which\nShakespeare alludes (_As You Like It_, ii. I., _cf._ Benfey, _l. c._,\np. 214, _n._), but Vitalis refuses to have anything to do with him,\nand altogether repudiates the fifty talents. \"H\u00e6c referebat Rex\nRichardus munificus, ingratos redarguendo.\"\n\n_Remarks._--Apart from the interest of its wide travels, and its\nappearance in the standard medi\u00e6val History of England by Matthew\nParis, the modern story shows the remarkable persistence of folk-tales\nin the popular mind. Here we have collected from the Hindu peasant of\nto-day a tale which was probably told before Buddha, over two thousand\nyears ago, and certainly included among the Jatakas before the\nChristian era. The same thing has occurred with _The Tiger, Brahman,\nand Jackal_ (No. ix. _supra_).\n\n\nXI. HARISARMAN.\n\n_Source._--Somadeva, _Katha-Sarit-Sagara_, trans. Tawney (Calcutta,\n1880), i. pp. 272-4. I have slightly toned down the inflated style of\nthe original.\n\n_Parallels _--Benfey has collected and discussed a number in _Orient\nand Occident_, i. 371 _seq._; see also Tawney, _ad loc_. The most\nremarkable of the parallels is that afforded by the Grimms' \"Doctor\nAllwissend\" (No. 98), which extends even to such a minute point as his\nexclamation, \"Ach, ich armer Krebs,\" whereupon a crab is discovered\nunder a dish. The usual form of discovery of the thieves is for the\nDr. Knowall to have so many days given him to discover the thieves,\nand at the end of the first day he calls out, \"There's one of them,\"\nmeaning the days, just as one of the thieves peeps through at him.\nHence the title and the plot of C. Lever's _One of Them_.\n\n\nXII. THE CHARMED RING.\n\n_Source._--Knowles, _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_, pp. 20-8.\n\n_Parallels._--The incident of the Aiding Animals is frequent in\nfolk-tales: see bibliographical references, _sub voce_, in my List of\nIncidents, _Trans. Folk-Lore Congress_, p. 88; also Knowles, 21,\n_n._; and Temple, _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 401, 412. The Magic Ring\nis also \"common form\" in folk-tales; _cf._ K\u00f6hler _ap._ Marie de\nFrance, _Lais_, ed. Warncke, p. lxxxiv. And the whole story is to be\nfound very widely spread from India (_Wideawake Stories_, pp. 196-206)\nto England (_Eng. Fairy Tales_, No. xvii, \"Jack and his Golden\nSnuff-box,\" _cf._ Notes, _ibid._), the most familiar form of it being\n\"Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp.\"\n\n_Remarks._--M. Cosquin has pointed out (_Contes de Lorraine_, p. xi.\n_seq._) that the incident of the rat's-tail-up-nose to recover the\nring from the stomach of an ogress, is found among Arabs, Albanians,\nBretons, and Russians. It is impossible to imagine that\nincident--occurring in the same series of incidents--to have been\ninvented more than once, and if that part of the story has been\nborrowed from India, there is no reason why the whole of it should not\nhave arisen in India, and have been spread to the West. The English\nvariant was derived from an English Gipsy, and suggests the\npossibility that for this particular story the medium of transmission\nhas been the Gipsies. This contains the incident of the loss of the\nring by the faithful animal, which again could not have been\nindependently invented.\n\n\nXIII. THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE.\n\n[Illustration:]\n\n_Source._--The _Kacchapa Jataka_, Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 215; also in his\n_Five Jatakas_, pp. 16, 41, tr. Rhys-Davids, pp. viii-x.\n\n_Parallels._--It occurs also in the Bidpai literature, in nearly all\nits multitudinous offshoots. See Benfey, _Einleitung_, \u00a784; also my\n_Bidpai_, E, 4 _a_; and North's text, pp. 170-5, where it is the\ntaunts of the other birds that cause the catastrophe: \"O here is a\nbrave sight, looke, here is a goodly ieast, what bugge haue we here,\"\nsaid some. \"See, see, she hangeth by the throte, and therefor she\nspeaketh not,\" saide others; \"and the beast flieth not like a beast;\"\nso she opened her mouth and \"pashte hir all to pieces.\"\n\n_Remarks._--I have reproduced in my edition the original illustration\nof the first English Bidpai, itself derived from the Italian block.\nA replica of it here may serve to show that it could be used\nequally well to illustrate the Pali original as its English\ngreat-great-great-great-great-great grand-child.\n\n\nXIV. LAC OF RUPEES.\n\n_Source._--Knowles, _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_, pp. 32-41. I have reduced\nthe pieces of advice to three, and curtailed somewhat.\n\n_Parallels._--See _Celtic Fairy Tales_, No. xxii., \"Tale of Ivan,\"\nfrom the old Cornish, now extinct, and notes _ibid._ Mr. Clouston\npoints out (_Pop. Tales_, ii. 319) that it occurs in Buddhist\nliterature, in \"Buddaghoshas Parables,\" as \"The Story of Kulla\nPauthaka.\"\n\n_Remarks._--It is indeed curious to find the story better told in\nCornwall than in the land of its birth, but there can be little doubt\nthat the Buddhist version is the earliest and original form of the\nstory. The piece of advice was originally a charm, in which a youth\nwas to say to himself, \"Why are you busy? Why are you busy?\" He does\nso when thieves are about, and so saves the king's treasures, of which\nhe gets an appropriate share. It would perhaps be as well if many of\nus should say to ourselves \"_Ghatesa, ghatesa, kim k\u00e1rana?_\"\n\n\nXV. THE GOLD-GIVING SERPENT.\n\n_Source._--_Pantschatantra_, III. v., tr. Benfey, ii. 244-7.\n\n_Parallels_ given in my _\u00c6sop_, Ro. ii. 10, p. 40. The chief points\nabout them are--(1) though the tale does not exist in either Ph\u00e6drus\nor Babrius, it occurs in prose derivates from the Latin by Ademar, 65,\nand \"Romulus,\" ii. 10, and from Greek, in Gabrias, 45, and the prose\n_\u00c6sop_, ed. Halm, 96; Gitlbauer has restored the Babrian form in his\nedition of Babrius, No. 160. (2) The fable occurs among folk-tales,\nGrimm, 105; Woycicki, _Poln. M\u00e4hr._ 105; Gering, _Islensk. \u00c6vent._ 59,\npossibly derived from La Fontaine, x. 12.\n\n_Remarks._--Benfey has proved most ingeniously and conclusively\n(_Einl._ i. 359) that the Indian fable is the source of both Latin and\nGreek fables. I may borrow from my _\u00c6sop_, p. 93, parallel abstracts\nof the three versions, putting Benfey's results in a graphic form,\nseries of bars indicating the passages where the classical fables have\nfailed to preserve the original.\n\n           BIDPAI.                |       PH\u00c6DRINE.\n\n A Brahmin once observed a snake  |----A good man had become\n in his field, and thinking it    |friendly with the snake, who\n the tutelary spirit of the       |came into his house and brought\n field, he offered it a libation  |luck with it, so that the man\n of milk in a bowl. Next day he   |became rich through it.----One\n finds a piece of gold in the     |day he struck the serpent, which\n bowl, and he receives this each  |disappeared, and with it the\n day after offering the libation. |man's riches. The good man tries\n One day he had to go elsewhere,  |to make it up, but the serpent\n and he sent his son with the     |declares their friendship at an\n libation. The son sees the gold, |end, as it could not forget the\n and thinking the serpent's hole  |blow.----\n full of treasure determines to   |\n slay the snake. He strikes at    |Ph\u00e6d. Dressl. VII. 28 (Rom. II. xi.)\n its head with a cudgel, and the  |\n enraged serpent stings him to    |            BABRIAN.\n death. The Brahmin mourns his    |A serpent stung a farmer's son\n son's death, but next morning as |to death. The father pursued the\n usual brings the libation of     |serpent with an axe, and struck\n milk (in the hope of getting the |off part of its tail. Afterwards\n gold as before). The serpent     |fearing its vengeance he brought\n appears after a long delay at    |food and honey to its lair, and\n the mouth of its lair, and       |begged reconciliation. The\n declares their friendship at an  |serpent, however, declares\n end, as it could not forget the  |friendship impossible, as it\n blow of the Brahmin's son, nor   |could not forget the blow----nor\n the Brahmin his son's death from |the farmer his son's death from\n the bite of the snake.           |the bite of the snake.\n                                  |\n_Pants._ III. v. (Benf. 244-7).   |\u00c6sop, Halm 96^b (Babrius-Gitlb. 160).\n                                  |\n\nIn the Indian fable every step of the action is thoroughly justified,\nwhereas the Latin form does not explain why the snake was friendly in\nthe first instance, or why the good man was enraged afterwards; and\nthe Greek form starts abruptly, without explaining why the serpent had\nkilled the farmer's son. Make a composite of the Ph\u00e6drine and Babrian\nforms, and you get the Indian one, which is thus shown to be the\noriginal of both.\n\n\nXVI. THE SON OF SEVEN QUEENS.\n\n_Source._--Steel-Temple, _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 98-110, originally\npublished in _Ind. Antiq._ x. 147 _seq._\n\n_Parallels._--A long variant follows in _Ind. Antiq._, _l. c._ M.\nCosquin refers to several Oriental variants, _l. c._ p. xxx. _n._ For\nthe direction tabu, see Note on Princess Labam, _supra_, No. ii. The\n\"letter to kill bearer\" and \"letter substituted\" are frequent in both\nEuropean (see my List _s. v._) and Indian Folk-Tales (Temple,\nAnalysis, II. iv. _b_, 6, p. 410). The idea of a son of seven mothers\ncould only arise in a polygamous country. It occurs in \"Punchkin,\"\n_supra_, No. iv.; Day, _Folk-Tales of Bengal_, 117 _seq._; _Ind.\nAntiq._ i. 170 (Temple, _l. c._, 398).\n\n_Remarks._--M. Cosquin (_Contes de Lorraine_, p. xxx.) points out how,\nin a Sicilian story, Gonzenbach (_Sizil. M\u00e4hr._ No. 80), the seven\nco-queens are transformed into seven step-daughters of the envious\nwitch who causes their eyes to be taken out. It is thus probable,\nthough M. Cosquin does not point this out, that the \"envious\nstep-mother\" of folk-tales (see my List, _s. v._) was originally an\nenvious co-wife. But there can be little doubt of what M. Cosquin\n_does_ point out--viz., that the Sicilian story is derived from the\nIndian one.\n\n\nXVII. A LESSON FOR KINGS.\n\n_Source._--_Rajovada Jataka_, Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 151, tr.\nRhys-Davids, pp. xxii.-vi.\n\n_Remarks._--This is one of the earliest of moral allegories in\nexistence. The moralising tone of the Jatakas must be conspicuous to\nall reading them. Why, they can moralise even the Tar Baby (see\n_infra_, Note on \"Demon with the Matted Hair,\" No. xxv.).\n\n\nXVIII. PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL.\n\n_Source._--Kingscote, _Tales of the Sun_. I have changed the Indian\nmercantile numerals into those of English \"back-slang,\" which make a\nvery good parallel.\n\n\nXIX. RAJA RASALU.\n\n_Source._--Steel-Temple, _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 247-80, omitting\n\"How Raja Rasalu was Born,\" \"How Raja Rasalu's Friends Forsook Him,\"\n\"How Raja Rasalu Killed the Giants,\" and \"How Raja Rasalu became a\nJogi.\" A further version in Temple, _Legends of Panjab_, vol. i.\n_Chaupur_, I should explain, is a game played by two players with\neight men, each on a board in the shape of a cross, four men to each\ncross covered with squares. The moves of the men are decided by the\nthrows of a long form of dice. The object of the game is to see which\nof the players can first move all his men into the black centre square\nof the cross (Temple, _l. c._, p. 344, and _Legends of Panjab_, i.\n243-5). It is sometimes said to be the origin of chess.\n\n_Parallels._--Rev. C. Swynnerton, \"Four Legends about Raja Rasalu,\" in\n_Folk-Lore Journal_, p. 158 _seq._, also in separate book much\nenlarged, _The Adventures of Raja Rasalu_, Calcutta, 1884. Curiously\nenough, the real interest of the story comes after the end of our part\nof it, for Kokilan, when she grows up, is married to Raja Rasalu, and\nbehaves as sometimes youthful wives behave to elderly husbands. He\ngives her her lover's heart to eat, _\u00e0 la_ Decameron, and she dashes\nherself over the rocks. For the parallels of this part of the legend\nsee my edition of Painter's _Palace of Pleasure_, tom. i. Tale 39, or,\nbetter, the _Programm_ of H. Patzig, _Zur Geschichte der Herzm\u00e4re_\n(Berlin, 1891). Gambling for life occurs in Celtic and other\nfolk-tales; _cf._ my List of Incidents, _s. v._ \"Gambling for Magic\nObjects.\"\n\n_Remarks._--Raja Rasalu is possibly a historic personage, according to\nCapt. Temple, _Calcutta Review_, 1884, p. 397, flourishing in the\neighth or ninth century. There is a place called Sirikap ka-kila in\nthe neighbourhood of Sialkot, the traditional seat of Rasalu on the\nIndus, not far from Atlock.\n\nHerr Patzig is strongly for the Eastern origin of the romance, and\nfinds its earliest appearance in the West in the Anglo-Norman\ntroubadour, Thomas' _Lai Guirun_, where it becomes part of the Tristan\ncycle. There is, so far as I know, no proof of the earliest part of\nthe Rasalu legend (_our_ part) coming to Europe, except the existence\nof the gambling incidents of the same kind in Celtic and other\nfolk-tales.\n\n\nXX. THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN.\n\n_Source._--The _Siha Camma Jataka_, Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 189, trans.\nRhys-Davids, pp. v. vi.\n\n_Parallels._--It also occurs in Somadeva, _Katha Sarit Sagara_, ed.\nTawney, ii. 65, and _n_. For \u00c6sopic parallels _cf._ my _\u00c6sop_, Av. iv.\nIt is in Babrius, ed. Gitlbaur, 218 (from Greek prose \u00c6sop, ed. Halm,\nNo. 323), and Avian, ed. Ellis, 5, whence it came into the modern\n\u00c6sop.\n\n_Remarks._--Avian wrote towards the end of the third century, and put\ninto Latin mainly those portions of Babrius which are unparalleled by\nPh\u00e6drus. Consequently, as I have shown, he has a much larger\nproportion of Eastern elements than Ph\u00e6drus. There can be little doubt\nthat the Ass in the Lion's Skin is from India. As Prof. Rhys-Davids\nremarks, the Indian form gives a plausible motive for the masquerade\nwhich is wanting in the ordinary \u00c6sopic version.\n\n\nXXI. THE FARMER AND THE MONEY-LENDER.\n\n_Source._--Steel-Temple, _Wideawake Stories_, pp. 215-8.\n\n_Parallels_ enumerated in my _\u00c6sop_, Av. xvii. See also Jacques de\nVitry, _Exempla_, ed. Crane, No. 196 (see notes, p. 212), and Bozon,\n_Contes moralis\u00e9s_, No. 112. It occurs in Avian, ed. Ellis, No. 22.\nMr. Kipling has a very similar tale in his _Life's Handicap_.\n\n_Remarks._--Here we have collected in modern India what one cannot\nhelp thinking is the Indian original of a fable of Avian. The\npreceding number showed one of his fables existing among the Jatakas,\nprobably before the Christian era. This makes it likely that we shall\nfind an earlier Indian original of the fable of the Avaricious and\nEnvious, perhaps among the Jatakas still untranslated.\n\n\nXXII. THE BOY WITH MOON ON FOREHEAD.\n\n_Source._--Miss Stokes' _Indian Fairy Tales_, No. 20, pp. 119-137.\n\n_Parallels_ to heroes and heroines in European fairy tales, with stars\non their foreheads, are given with some copiousness in Stokes, _l.\nc._, pp. 242-3. This is an essentially Indian trait; almost all Hindus\nhave some tribal or caste mark on their bodies or faces. The choice of\nthe hero disguised as a menial is also common property of Indian and\nEuropean fairy tales: see Stokes, _l. c._, p. 231, and my List of\nIncidents (_s. v._ \"Menial Disguise.\")\n\n\nXXIII. THE PRINCE AND THE FAKIR.\n\n_Source._--Kindly communicated by Mr. M. L. Dames from his unpublished\ncollection of Baluchi tales.\n\n_Remarks._--Unholy fakirs are rather rare. See Temple, Analysis, I.\nii. _a_, p. 394.\n\n\nXXIV. WHY THE FISH LAUGHED.\n\n_Source._--Knowles, _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_, pp. 484-90.\n\n_Parallels._--The latter part is the formula of the Clever Lass who\nguesses riddles. She has been bibliographised by Prof. Child, _Eng.\nand Scotch Ballads_, i. 485; see also Benfey, _Kl. Schr._ ii. 156\n_seq._ The sex test at the end is different from any of those\nenumerated by Prof. K\u00f6hler on Gonzenbach, _Sezil. M\u00e4hr._ ii. 216.\n\n_Remarks._--Here we have a further example of a whole formula, or\nseries of incidents, common to most European collections, found in\nIndia, and in a quarter, too, where European influence is little\nlikely to penetrate. Prof. Benfey, in an elaborate dissertation (\"Die\nKluge Dirne,\" in _Ausland_, 1859, Nos. 20-25, now reprinted in _Kl.\nSchr._ ii. 156 _seq._), has shown the wide spread of the theme both in\nearly Indian literature (though probably there derived from the folk)\nand in modern European folk literature.\n\n\nXXV. THE DEMON WITH THE MATTED HAIR.\n\n_Source._--The _Pancavudha-Jataka_, Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 55, kindly\ntranslated for this book by Mr. W. H. D. Rouse, of Christ's College,\nCambridge. There is a brief abstract of the Jataka in Prof. Estlin\nCarpenter's sermon, _Three Ways of Salvation_, 1884, p. 27, where my\nattention was first called to this Jataka.\n\n_Parallels._--Most readers of these Notes will remember the central\nepisode of Mr. J. C. Harris' _Uncle Remus_, in which Brer Fox, annoyed\nat Brer Rabbit's depredations, fits up \"a contrapshun, what he calls a\nTar Baby.\" Brer Rabbit, coming along that way, passes the time of day\nwith Tar Baby, and, annoyed at its obstinate silence, hits it with\nright fist and with left, with left fist and with right, which\nsuccessively stick to the \"contrapshun,\" till at last he butts with\nhis head, and that sticks too, whereupon Brer Fox, who all this time\nhad \"lain low,\" saunters out, and complains of Brer Rabbit that he is\ntoo stuck up. In the sequel Brer Rabbit begs Brer Fox that he may\n\"drown me as deep ez you please, skin me, scratch out my eyeballs,\nt'ar out my years by the roots, en cut off my legs, but do don't fling\nme in dat brier patch;\" which, of course, Brer Fox does, only to be\ninformed by the cunning Brer Rabbit that he had been \"bred en bawn in\na brier patch.\" The story is a favourite one with the negroes: it\noccurs in Col. Jones' _Negro Myths of the Georgia Coast_ (Uncle Remus\nis from S. Carolina), also among those of Brazil (Romero, _Contos do\nBrazil_), and in the West Indian Islands (Mr. Lang, \"At the Sign of\nthe Ship,\" _Longman's Magazine_, Feb. 1889). We can trace it to\nAfrica, where it occurs in Cape Colony (_South African Folk-Lore\nJournal_, vol. i.).\n\n_Remarks._--The five-fold attack on the Demon and the Tar Baby is so\npreposterously ludicrous that it cannot have been independently\ninvented, and we must therefore assume that they are causally\nconnected, and the existence of the variant in South Africa clinches\nthe matter, and gives us a landing-stage between India and America.\nThere can be little doubt that the Jataka of Prince Five Weapons came\nto Africa, possibly by Buddhist missionaries, spread among the\nnegroes, and then took ship in the holds of slavers for the New World,\nwhere it is to be found in fuller form than any yet discovered in the\nhome of its birth. I say Buddhist missionaries, because there is a\ncertain amount of evidence that the negroes have Buddhistic symbols\namong them, and we can only explain the identification of Brer Rabbit\nwith Prince Five Weapons, and so with Buddha himself, by supposing the\nchange to have originated among Buddhists, where it would be quite\nnatural. For one of the most celebrated metempsychoses of Buddha is\nthat detailed in the _Sasa Jataka_ (Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 316, tr. R.\nMorris, _Folk-Lore Journal_, ii. 336), in which the Buddha, as a hare,\nperforms a sublime piece of self-sacrifice, and as a reward is\ntranslated to the moon, where he can be seen to this day as \"the hare\nin the moon.\" Every Buddhist is reminded of the virtue of\nself-sacrifice whenever the moon is full, and it is easy to understand\nhow the Buddha became identified as the Hare or Rabbit. A striking\nconfirmation of this, in connection with our immediate subject, is\noffered by Mr. Harris' sequel volume, _Nights with Uncle Remus_. Here\nthere is a whole chapter (xxx.) on \"Brer Rabbit and his famous Foot,\"\nand it is well known how the worship of Buddha's foot developed in\nlater Buddhism. No wonder Brer Rabbit is so 'cute: he is nothing less\nthan an incarnation of Buddha. Among the Karens of Burmah, where\nBuddhist influence is still active, the Hare holds exactly the same\nplace in their folk-lore as Brer Rabbit among the negroes. The sixth\nchapter of Mr. Smeaton's book on them is devoted to \"Fireside\nStories,\" and is entirely taken up with adventures of the Hare, all of\nwhich can be parallelled from _Uncle Remus_.\n\nCuriously enough, the negro form of the five-fold attack--\"fighting\nwith _five_ fists,\" Mr. Barr would call it--is probably nearer to the\noriginal legend than that preserved in the Jataka, though 2000 years\nolder. For we may be sure that the thunderbolt of Knowledge did not\nexist in the original, but was introduced by some Buddhist Mr. Barlow,\nwho, like Alice's Duchess, ended all his tales with: \"And the moral of\nthat is----\" For no well-bred demon would have been taken in by so\nsimple a \"sell\" as that indulged in by Prince Five-Weapons in our\nJataka, and it is probable, therefore, that _Uncle Remus_ preserves a\nreminiscence of the original Indian reading of the tale. On the other\nhand, it is probable that Carlyle's Indian god with the fire in his\nbelly was derived from Prince Five-Weapons.\n\nThe negro variant has also suggested to Mr. Batten an explanation of\nthe whole story which is extremely plausible, though it introduces a\nmethod of folk-lore exegesis which has been overdriven to death. The\n_Sasa Jataka_ identifies the Brer Rabbit Buddha with the hare in\nthe moon. It is well known that Easterns explain an eclipse of the\nmoon as due to its being swallowed up by a Dragon or Demon. May not,\nasks Mr. Batten, the _Pancavudha Jataka_ be an idealised account of\nan eclipse of the moon? This suggestion receives strong confirmation\nfrom the Demon's reference to Rahu, who does, in Indian myth swallow\nthe moon at times of eclipse. The Jataka accordingly contains the\nBuddhist explanation why the moon--_i.e._ the hare in the moon, _i.e._\nBuddha--is not altogether swallowed up by the Demon of Eclipse, the\nDemon with the Matted Hair. Mr. Batten adds that in imagining what\nkind of Demon the Eclipse Demon was, the Jataka writer was probably\naided by recollections of some giant octopus, who has saucer eyes and\na kind of hawk's beak, knobs on its \"tusks,\" and a very variegated\nbelly (gasteropod). It is obviously unfair of Mr. Batten both to\nillustrate and also to explain so well the Tar Baby Jataka--taking the\nscientific bread, so to speak, out of a poor folk-lorist's mouth--but\nhis explanations seem to me so convincing that I cannot avoid\nincluding them in these Notes.\n\nI am, however, not so much concerned with the original explanation of\nthe Jataka as to trace its travels across the continents of Asia,\nAfrica, and America. I think I have done this satisfactorily, and will\nhave thereby largely strengthened the case for less extensive travels\nof other tales. I have sufficient confidence of the method employed to\nventure on that most hazardous of employments, scientific prophecy. I\nventure to predict that the Tar Baby story will be found in Madagascar\nin a form nearer the Indian than Uncle Remus, and I will go further,\nand say that it will _not_ be found in the grand Helsingfors\ncollection of folk-tales, though this includes 12,000, of which 1000\nare beast-tales.\n\n\nXXVI. THE IVORY PALACE.\n\n_Source._--Knowles, _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_, pp. 211-25, with some\nslight omissions. Gulizar is Persian for rosy-cheeked.\n\n_Parallels._--Stokes, _Indian Fairy Tales_, No. 27. \"Panwpatti Rani,\"\npp. 208-15, is the same story. Another version in the collection\n_Baital Pachisi_, No. 1.\n\n_Remarks._--The themes of love by mirror, and the faithful friend, are\ncommon European, though the calm attempt at poisoning is perhaps\ncharacteristically Indian, and reads like a page from Mr. Kipling.\n\n\nXXVII. SUN, MOON, AND WIND.\n\n_Source._--Miss Frere, _Old Deccan Days_, No. 10, pp. 153-5.\n\n_Remarks._--Miss Frere observes that she has not altered the\ntraditional mode of the Moon's conveyance of dinner to her mother the\nStar, though it must, she fears, impair the value of the story as a\nmoral lesson in the eyes of all instructors of youth.\n\n\nXXVIII. HOW WICKED SONS WERE DUPED.\n\n_Source._--Knowles. _Folk-Tales of Kashmir_, pp. 241-2.\n\n_Parallels._--A Gaelic parallel was given by Campbell in _Trans.\nEthnol. Soc._, ii. p. 336; an Anglo-Latin one from the Middle Ages by\nT. Wright in _Latin Stories_ (Percy Soc.), No. 26; and for these and\npoints of anthropological interest in the Celtic variant see Mr.\nGomme's article in _Folk-Lore_, i. pp. 197-206, \"A Highland Folk-Tale\nand its Origin in Custom.\"\n\n_Remarks._--Mr. Gomme is of opinion that the tale arose from certain\nrhyming formul\u00e6 occurring in the Gaelic and Latin tales as written on\na mallet left by the old man in the box opened after his death. The\nrhymes are to the effect that a father who gives up his wealth to his\nchildren in his own lifetime deserves to be put to death with the\nmallet. Mr. Gomme gives evidence that it was an archaic custom to put\noldsters to death after they had become helpless. He also points out\nthat it was customary for estates to be divided and surrendered during\nthe owners' lifetime, and generally he connects a good deal of\nprimitive custom with our story. I have already pointed out in\n_Folk-Lore_, p. 403, that the existence of the tale in Kashmir without\nany reference to the mallet makes it impossible for the rhymes on the\nmallet to be the source of the story. As a matter of fact, it is a\nvery embarrassing addition to it, since the rhyme tells against the\nparent, and the story is intended to tell against the ungrateful\nchildren. The existence of the tale in India renders it likely enough\nthat it is not indigenous to the British Isles, but an Oriental\nimportation. It is obvious, therefore, that it cannot be used as\nanthropological evidence of the existence of the primitive customs to\nbe found in it. The whole incident, indeed, is a striking example of\nthe dangers of the anthropological method of dealing with folk-tales\nbefore some attempt is made to settle the questions of origin and\ndiffusion.\n\n\nXXIX. THE PIGEON AND THE CROW.\n\n_Source._--The _Lola Jataka_, Fausb\u00f6ll, No. 274, kindly translated\nand slightly abridged for this book by Mr. W. H. D. Rouse.\n\n_Remarks._--We began with an animal Jataka, and may appropriately\nfinish with one which shows how effectively the writers of the Jatakas\ncould represent animal folk, and how terribly moral they invariably\nwere in their tales. I should perhaps add that the Bodhisat is not\nprecisely the Buddha himself but a character which is on its way to\nbecoming perfectly enlightened, and so may be called a future Buddha.","title":"Indian Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":71252}