Chapter II: Part 2

After she had gone, the two questioned each other as to what she had said, and neither would believe the other when he declared she had said nothing at all; so they began to suspect one another of deceit, and quarrelled.

Thus the old woman sowed dissension in their hearts, and after a time, instead of being friends, they became bitter enemies. The Rajah's son said he insisted on knowing what the old woman had said to the Vizier's son, and if he would not tell it, he must be put to death at the hands of a sweeper, or, in India, low-caste man.

The sweeper was just about to do this cruel deed, when the Goddess Parbatti saw him, and implored of Mahadeo, her husband, to intercede; so he sent a large stag to the jungle, and it stood near at hand.

When the sweeper saw it, he killed it instead with the bow and arrows, and, taking out its eyes, carried them to the Rajah, and said they were the eyes of the Vizier's son.

Thus the Prince was appeased, and again ate, drank, and was merry, until one day, walking in the garden, he saw an earthen vessel, and in it a lock of hair and a small lamp. This, he felt sure, had some significance, so he longed to ask the Vizier's son, who was clever, and would have told him all about it; but he remembered that the Vizier's son was taken away and killed, and he himself had seen his eyes brought back in proof of the deed.

Nevertheless he wept day and night, and would not be comforted, so the Rajah, his father, in great distress, sent for the sweeper who had been told to kill the Vizier's son, and implored him to declare the truth concerning his end. Then the man confessed everything, and went and searched for the lad, and brought him back. The two boys became fast friends as before, and the Rajah's son enquired the meaning of the lock of woman's hair and lamp.

"It means," said the Vizier's son, "the name of a beautiful Princess called 'Princess of the Lamp,' and she lives in a distant country."

So they set out to seek her, and soon found the Palace in which she lived, and outside a girl making a wreath of flowers for the Princess. The Rajah's son begged the girl to let him make the hal or wreath, and, in making it, he placed a letter inside.

The Princess was very angry when she found the letter, and made the girl tell her the truth; but she would not receive the Prince after what he had done, so he had to return to his own country: thus was he punished for his cruelty to the Vizier's son.

THE RAJAH'S SON AND THE VIZIER'S SON

For a second time the friendship of the Rajah's son and the Vizier's son caused great jealousy, so a mischief-maker was called, and he promised he would do all in his power to part them. Then he ordered a dooly and followed them into the forest. At the first opportunity he called to the eldest, who was the Vizier's son, and pretended to whisper in his ear.

The Rajah's son at once enquired what the man had said, and would not believe that it was nothing at all, so once again in great anger he ordered his friend to be killed.

But the Vizier's son was very clever, and soon persuaded the executioner to spare his life, for he told him the Rajah's son would very soon weary of being alone, and would ask for him back; and if the executioner could not bring him, he would most probably suffer death himself; thus he escaped, and went and hid himself.

In the meantime the Rajah's son chanced to walk by the riverside, where he saw a very beautiful woman sitting beside her husband. He admired the woman very much, and communicated his feelings in looks, though he dared not do so in words.

The woman replied by first spreading a little green plaster on the ground, on which she placed a brass vessel, or lota, and over that another or smaller lota, on the top of which was a looking-glass, with ashes spread upon it.

The Rajah's son looked carefully at what she had done, but could not interpret its meaning, so he bitterly regretted the death of his friend, who was noted for his cleverness, and went at once to the executioner to enquire about him.

The executioner owned that he had not killed the boy, and went and called him. Then the friends went together to discover what the woman meant, nor was the Vizier's son long in finding the meaning.

The green plaster meant, "In a green spot lives Lota (the name of her husband), and Gudba (or smaller vessel) is the name of the city where we live; the looking-glass means in a house which has many glasses in it; and the ashes mean, 'May these ashes be on your head if you fail to discover my meaning.'"

After this clue, it did not take the Vizier's son long to find out where the woman lived, and he put pegs into the wall, one above the other, for his friend to climb up to her window.

But before the Rajah's son could reach the top, a Kotwal, or policeman, saw him, and took him away to the lock-up. This was an unexpected turn of affairs, so the Vizier's son quickly dressed himself as a beautiful woman, and asked to see his friend in the prison. He bribed the jailer to let him in, and, once there, made his friend put on his clothes and escape, while he remained prisoner in his stead.

Next day the news went abroad that the Kotwal had locked up both the Rajah's son and the Vizier's son in the prison, and the Rajah was very angry about it, and sent at once to find out the reason.

They determined to put the matter as to who was innocent and who was guilty to a test; so the Kotwal had a pan of boiling oil prepared, and said who ever plunged his hand into it, who was innocent of crime, would not be burnt.

Each dipped his hand in turn, the Rajah's son, the Vizier's son, the woman, and the Kotwal himself, but only the Kotwal had his hand badly burnt, so this ended the whole affair. The Rajah's son meantime had dressed himself as a woman, and taken service in the house of the beautiful woman who was the wife of a Sowcar.

Nobody guessed who he was, until one day the Sowcar himself admired him, and tried to be friends with him, thinking he was only a pretty servant-girl; then the Sowcar's wife gave her pretended servant-girl a razor, and said to keep it carefully till the next time the Sowcar came to see her, and then to cut off his nose.

The Rajah's son, who was tired of acting the part of a servant-girl, was only too glad to do this; and the Sowcar, rather than let anybody know of his disgrace in having lost his nose, left the country, and thus his wife gained her ends.

BEY HUSLO

Bey Huslo was a very extravagant woman, who was always being found fault with by her husband, who held up as her examples other women who were thrifty in their habits, and who saved money, and helped to make and build up their husbands' homes.

On hearing this Bey Huslo took a pick-axe, and began digging here and there like a mason. Her husband asked what she was doing, and she replied: "Trying to build you a house."

He tried to explain that that was not literally meant, and explained again the duties of a wife. "When a good wife falls short of supplies, she borrows two cuttorah's full (or small earthen vessels full) of flour from her neighbour, and thus saves herself the expense of buying any large quantity."

That night Bey Huslo, who had taken this saying literally, borrowed two small earthen vessels, and, breaking them into small pieces, put them on the fire to cook!

Her husband heard the sound as they grated against the cooking-pot, and asked what she was cooking that made such a noise; but he was very angry indeed when she told him, and scolded her roundly.

He told her she was perfectly useless, and that, while he had to go about without clothes, other women were able to spin and weave. She replied that if he would only give her some wool, she could do the same.

The man was delighted, and gave her some wool; so she took it to the pond, and told the frogs and toads to weave it into cloth for her.

After some days her husband asked her if the cloth was ready, and she said: "I gave it to the frogs and toads to weave for me, and find they have not done so."

Then her husband was very angry indeed, and said: "Senseless one, have you ever heard of frogs and toads spinning cloth? Go out of my house this moment!" And, with that, he turned her out, and she went and climbed up into a peepul tree.

Soon after some camels came that way, and, as they stretched out their necks and ate the branches, Bey Huslo called out: "Go away, I will not go with you; I will only go when my husband comes to fetch me."

But as the camels had only come to eat, and not to fetch her, they made no reply, and went away.

After this a dog began to bark at her, but she said again: "Go away, I will not go with you; I will only go with my husband."

When night fell some thieves sat sharing their spoils under the tree, and Bey Huslo felt so frightened that she fell off, and dropped in their midst.

The thieves did not know what to make of it, and ran away, leaving their stolen property behind. Bey Huslo soon gathered it up and returned to her husband. "Here," she said, "is more than enough for you and for me. We will now live at our ease, and I will have no housekeeping to do, so that you can no longer call me a worthless wife."

THE STORY OF PANCH MAR KHAN

There was once a weaver who had the habit of slapping his face to kill any flies that settled upon it; and it was rumoured that he killed five at every blow, so he got the name of Panch Mar Khan, which means "a killer of five."

People did not know that this name applied to flies, but thought the weaver a brave, strong man, able to kill five of his enemies at a blow, so that he gained a reputation for bravery.

One day the Rajah of that place heard some enemies were coming in force to attack his capital. All the fighting men were required to go out and meet them on the morrow; so Panch Mar Khan received notice to be in readiness also.

Now he had never touched a weapon in his life, and was horribly frightened at the very idea, so he made up his mind to run away during the night.

He saddled his donkey, and, taking two large millstones, set out on his journey; but, as he was passing the enemy's camp, and arrived at a hill just a little above it, the donkey began to kick and to bray, and the two stones rolled down the hill into the enemy's camp with a great noise.

They thought an army was after them, and became terror-stricken, so that in the darkness and panic which ensued, many of them were killed.

Panch Mar Khan was greatly delighted at his good luck, and, instead of running away, returned to his own home.

Next morning, when the soldiers came to call him out to fight the enemy, he very proudly asked: "What enemy? Did I not go out at night, and kill hundreds of our enemies and drive the rest away?"

True enough, there was now no camp to be seen, and several dead men were found on the spot; so Panch Mar Khan's reputation as a brave man spread far and wide, and he was handsomely rewarded by the Rajah.

Some days after news came that a tiger was prowling about; and a brave man was required to go out that night and kill it. Who was so brave as Panch Mar Khan! So he was deputed to go, but when he heard this he nearly died of fright, and made up his mind that he would run away.

So when darkness fell he crept out and caught his donkey by the ear, and led it to its stable, and there tied it to a post, to wait till he was ready to get on its back; but when he returned with a light, what was his surprise to find it was not his donkey, but the tiger that he had led by the ear and tied to a post.

Such brave conduct from a mortal to a wild beast had so amazed the tiger, that it was too frightened to resist, so there it remained till morning, and Panch Mar Khan was thought to be the bravest man alive!

Next morning he got up early, and went out into the field near his house, and there he suddenly came face to face with the fierce eyes and grinning teeth of a jackal. His other bravery was by mistake, but this was a reality, and so frightened was he, that he fell down and died on the spot.

THE RABBIT AND THE BARBER

There was a rabbit who asked a barber to shave him; in doing so the barber cut off his ear. "Take my ear," said the rabbit, "and I will take your razors."

A little further on he saw an old woman pulling grass with her hands. "Take this," he said, giving her the razor, "and cut grass with it, and I will take your cloth."

When she asked him why, he replied: "You have my razor and I have your chudder."

Then he went a little further and saw a ghee seller. "Take my chudder and give me your ghee," said the rabbit. So saying, he left the chudder and walked off with the ghee.

Not long after he met a woman, and told her to make him some goolgoolahs, or sweets, with the ghee. As soon as they were ready he picked them up and ran away.

A little further on was a man with a plough, a horse, and a bullock. "Take these sweets," said the rabbit, "and I will yoke your plough for you."

But, instead of doing this, he ran away with the horse, and soon after met a marriage procession, in which the bridegroom was walking beside the bride's litter or dooly. "Get on my horse: why do you walk?" said the rabbit gaily.

So the man got on, and the rabbit ran off with the bride; but her husband ran after, and advised his wife to kill the rabbit.

When they got to a quiet place, and rested under a tree, she asked the rabbit to let her comb his hair; but as soon as he put his head down, she gave him a severe knock on it, which stunned him, and then ran back to her husband. Thus ended the adventures of the rabbit.

RUPA AND BISUNTHA

There was once a woman who had no little children of her own; every day she used to watch the sparrows building their nests, and bringing up their young, and it so happened that one day a mother bird died, leaving several young ones. After a time a new mother bird was brought, and she was not at all good to the young fledglings.

The woman felt hurt for them, and said to her husband: "If I had children of my own, and after a time I died, would you do as the birds have done, and let my children be unkindly treated?"

But the man replied: "These are birds, and I am a man."

After some years the woman had two sons, and when they had grown to be big boys, she died. Her husband had forgotten her conversation about the birds, and he married another wife.

One day the eldest boy was playing with a ball, when it fell into his stepmother's room. He asked if he might fetch it; but when he went inside, she made it an occasion for all sorts of complaints against him to his father, so his father turned him out of the house, and he went away with his little brother.

As they rested that night in the forest, the younger brother lay awake and overheard a conversation between two Night Jars. They talked on many subjects. At length one of the birds remarked: "How little do people guess that he who eats me will become a Rajah, and he who eats you will become a Prime Minister."

On hearing this the youngest brother crept out of bed, and taking his gun, shot both birds and cooked them. He ate the female himself, and kept the male for his brother. But while he slept, a venomous snake, which lived in the tree, came down and bit him, so that he died as he slept.

In the morning his elder brother awoke, and found a meal prepared for him, so he ate the bird, and then tried to wake his companion, but soon discovered that the boy was dead. This grieved him very much, and he wept bitterly, and determined to wait till he could return and burn his brother in a way befitting to a good caste Hindu, so he placed him in the branches of the tree and went his way.

The same day Mahadeo and Parbatti were passing that way, and Parbatti, who is ever described as a wilful Goddess, always wanting her own way, asked Mahadeo to see what was in the tree. They soon found the dead boy; and Parbatti insisted that he should be made alive again, so Mahadeo sprinkled a few drops of blood upon him, and he sat up alive and well.

Close to this place a Rajah had just died, and his people placed his crown in the trunk of an elephant, leaving it to him to place it upon the head of any man there; and that man would be their future King. The elephant looked upon them all, and then, walking up to Rupa, placed the crown upon his head.

At first the people objected, because he was a stranger, and did not belong to their town, but after a while they accepted him as their King, and thus the words of the bird were fulfilled.

In the meantime, Bisuntha came to the same city, and begged a night's shelter. The people were fully aware that night after night a fierce man-eating tiger came to that town, and demanded a man to eat. They did not wish to give one of the men belonging to the town, so Bisuntha, being a stranger, was selected for the tiger, and told to go and sleep in the place where it was likely to come.

At night he lay awake thinking, and the tiger came; but Bisuntha had his sword beside him, so he promptly killed the tiger, and placed its ears and whiskers in his pocket.

In the morning a sweeper came, thinking to find the stranger dead and his bones scattered about, but, instead, he found the tiger dead, and the stranger lying fast asleep; so he resolved to take all the honour of killing the tiger to himself, and went back to the city with the news that he had killed the tiger single-handed, and saved the man. This story was believed, and the sweeper richly rewarded, but Bisuntha heard nothing.

Now there lived in that city a merchant who owned a ship and went to distant cities to trade, but sometimes the ship stuck in the sandbanks, and could not be moved. At such times it was necessary to kill a man, and then the sand was pleased at the sacrifice and let the ship go. It was always difficult to find a man for the purpose, and the Rajah was often asked to select one.

Bisuntha, at this time, had taken up service in the house of an oil merchant, and being a stranger, he was selected for a second time, and sent by the Rajah to accompany the merchant, at the risk of his life.

At the first sandbank, when the ship was in difficulties and could not be moved, the merchant told Bisuntha he must prepare to die; but Bisuntha said: "You desire your ship to move, whether I die or whether I do not. If I can make it move on for you, will you spare my life?"

To this the merchant agreed; and Bisuntha cut his finger, and dropped a few drops of blood into the sea. As soon as he did this the ship moved on, and so the merchant would not part with him, or kill him, but kept him during the whole voyage, and brought him back to the town.

Rupa had half forgotten his brother all this while, but one day he was stricken with remorse, and determined to find out what had happened after he had left the forest, with the intention of burning the remains of Bisuntha.

In order to get news of him, he sent out a notice that he would pay any one who would come daily and talk with him, for he hoped in the course of conversation that some one would mention the circumstance of the boy who was found dead in a tree in the forest.

At length Bisuntha himself came to hear what the Rajah his brother was doing, so he disguised himself as a girl, and went to the Palace.

When the Rajah saw him he said: "What have you to say, O my daughter?" and Bisuntha said: "Do you wish me to talk on general subjects or only of myself?"

"Of yourself," said Rupa.

So the lad began. "There were once two brothers, whose names were Rupa and Bisuntha, and they had a stepmother."

Rupa's interest was now breathless, but after telling a small part of the story Bisuntha said he was tired, and would tell the rest next day.

The next day he continued, and told how a snake had bitten Bisuntha, and how he had died in the forest, and had been raised to life by Mahadeo and Parbatti. Rupa was now full of anxiety to know the rest, but Bisuntha said he had forgotten it, so nothing could be done.

When he came again, he said he remembered that Bisuntha came to a certain town, where the Rajah ordered him to be given to a tiger; how he had escaped the tiger and all other dangers, and had in his pocket the proof. Thus saying he took out the tiger's ears and whiskers, and, as his eyes met his brother's, they recognised each other, and fell upon each other's necks.

SHEIK CHILLI

The hero of this story was one day walking along with a vessel of oil upon his head. As he walked he kept thinking of the future.

"I will sell the oil, and with the money I shall buy a goat, and then I shall sell the kids, and then I shall buy a cow, and sell the milk, till I get a large sum of money; then I shall buy a pair of buffaloes, and a field, and plough the field, and gain more money, and build myself a house, and marry a wife, and have many sons and daughters. And when my wife comes to call me to dinner, I'll say: 'Dhur, away! I'll come when 1 think fit!'" and with that he held up his head suddenly, and away fell the chattie with the oil, and it was all spilt.

This upset Sheik Chilli so much that he began to yell: "I have lost my goats, I have lost my cows, I have lost my buffaloes, and my house, and my wife and children."

That such dire calamity should befall a man caused great pity, so the bystanders took Sheik Chilli to the Rajah, who asked him how it had all happened.

When he heard the story he laughed, and said: "This boy has a good heart, let him be given a reward to compensate him for the loss of his oil."

SHEIK CHILLI

Sheik Chilli was going to be married, so his mother said: "My son, whatever your wife gives you to eat be content with your nemak panee (literally salt and water, but a native always speaks of his food as his "nemak panee"), and do not grumble, but eat uncomplaining."

So when he was married, and his wife placed his food before him, he remembered his mother's warning, and kept repeating, "Nemak panee, nemak panee," till his wife was disgusted, and taking him at his word gave him salt and water to drink.

During the night he felt very hungry, and asked her to give him some food, but she said: "I am not going to get up and cook food for you at this hour of the night, but if you will go into a certain room, you will find some honey in a jar on the shelf, eat a little of that."

Sheik Chilli, in trying to reach the jar of honey, upset it, and it came pouring down upon him, while he kept calling out, "Stop, stop, I've had enough," till at last, surfeited with honey and smeared with it from head to foot, he returned to his wife, and told her what had happened. She advised him to go into the next room, where he would find some wool, and clean himself with it.

He tried to do this, but the wool stuck fast to the honey, and covered his body and his hands, so that he looked more like a sheep than a man, and his wife told him that he had better go and sleep with the sheep until morning, when she would prepare some warm water for him to have a wash.

That night some thieves came to steal the sheep, and in the darkness they felt each one to see which was fattest. Sheik Chilli was fast asleep, and they thought he was a very fine sheep; so they put him into a bag and ran away, taking him with them. When he awoke he kept calling out: "Let me go, let me go." This frightened the robbers, who had never heard a sheep call out before, and so they put down the bag and out dropped Sheik Chilli.

The robbers asked him who he was, and said: "You must come with us now, for we are just going to rob the house of a very rich Bunniah; while we gather the spoils, you keep watch that he does not wake."

Sheik Chilli waited patiently till he thought the robbers were ready to run away; and then he dropped some hot rice, that was in the cooking pot on the fire, upon the hand of the Bunniah's wife. She awoke with a scream, and the robbers ran away. Then Sheik Chilli explained how he had saved the Bunniah from great loss, and was allowed to go free without any more questions being asked.

When he got outside he saw a camel laden with all sorts of treasure. The camel-driver had turned aside for a minute or so, and Sheik Chilli could not see him, so he lead off the camel, made over its pack to his mother, and let it walk away empty.

Next day there was a great fuss made, and the town-crier went round to say that a camel had strayed, and certain valuable goods were lost.

Sheik Chilli's mother heard this, and knowing how simple her son was, she feared he would tell every one where the things were, so she resolved to divert his mind, and that night cooked some goolgoolahs, a very favourite native dish, like fritters, and flung them into the garden; then she woke her son and told him it was "raining goolgoolahs from the sky!"

The foolish fellow ran out and called to everybody: "It is raining goolgoolahs! it is raining goolgoolahs!" Everybody thought him a fool, and said: "It is that mad Sheik Chilli; who is going to listen to him?"

Next day Sheik Chilli heard the town-crier calling out about the camel, so he promptly said: "My mother has the things; I myself brought the camel to her."

Then they all crowded to his mother's door, and she asked: "On what day did you bring the camel, my son?"

"The day it rained goolgoolahs, mother."

So the people walked away disgusted, and said: "What fool's talk is this? Who ever heard of its raining goolgoolahs? The one statement is as false as the other."

After this his mother advised him to return to his wife, who must wonder what had become of him. "And mind," she said, "whatever your wife may say, you must agree, and say 'Acchabat'"--or "Quite right," as we English would say "Good!" or "Very good news!"

So he returned to his wife, and the first piece of news she gave him was that her mother had been put into prison, to which he replied, "Acchabat," or "Very good." On this his wife was exceedingly vexed, and turned him out of the house.

He returned to his mother, who asked him what had happened. She said: "You are indeed a foolish boy, you should have said, 'Ah ha! Ah ha! this is indeed sad news.' I hope you will remember next time what I have told you."

So Sheik Chilli went back to his wife, who greeted him with the news that his mother-in-law had been released.

"Ah ha!" said Sheik Chilli, "this is indeed sad news."

The mother-in-law, who overheard him, said: "I have had enough of you: take your wife, and go and live in your own mother's house." So she turned him out.

THE MONKEY, THE TIGER, AND THE PRINCESS

Once upon a time there was a King who had seven sons, and he made up his mind that he would not let them marry unless they married seven sisters, so he sent his Brahmin to seek a Rajah who had seven daughters, and to bring him word. After a time the Brahmin succeeded, and found a Rajah who had seven daughters; so arrangements were speedily made for their marriage.

When the time came for the seven Princes to go and fetch their brides, the youngest said to his father: "If we all go, who is to look after the house, and all your property? Let me remain behind, and when my brothers return with their wives, they can bring my bride also."

His father thought this a very wise suggestion, so they set out, leaving the youngest brother at home.

After the wedding festivities were over, the seven brides were carried along in doolies, with the six Princes for an escort, and they halted for the night near a tank or pond in the forest, but did not know that the place was full of tigers. At night the tigers formed a ring round the camp, and said they would eat every one in it unless one of the Princesses was given up to them.

None of the six Princes would give up his wife. At last they decided to leave the seventh Princess to the tigers.

When the procession arrived at the Rajah's Palace, the youngest Prince wondered why only six doolies had come, and asked what had become of his bride; but nobody would give him an answer.

At last an old man told him what had happened, and the young Prince, who was very angry and disappointed with his brothers, at once set out to seek his bride.

On the way he met a rat and a jackal, and they said: "May we go with you?" The Prince consented, and the three set out together, and walked or rode till evening, when they were overcome with fatigue and sat down to rest.

The Prince fell asleep, but the jackal said to the rat: "I am very hungry, what shall we do for food? Do you eat the Prince's clothes, and I will eat his horse."

No sooner did they agree than they carried out their plan. The rat ate all the clothes worn by the Prince, and the jackal ate his horse, so that when he awoke it was to find himself alone in the forest, without either horse or clothes.

Just then a monkey came down from the tree, and asked him what was the matter.

"I have told my troubles to two animals before, and do not wish to be betrayed by a third," said the Prince; to which the monkey replied: "A rat is a rat, and a jackal is a jackal, but I am a monkey; come with me and I will help you out of your troubles."

Then they went to the Bazaar, where the monkey gave his friend the Prince some money, and told him to buy himself clothes. When he had bought the clothes, he gave him some more money and said to buy himself a sword and ornaments, and lastly to buy himself a horse, and the monkey advised that it should be a thin horse, fleet of limb.

Then the two mounted the horse and rode into the forest, where they soon found the Princess sitting tied up in a den, with an old blind tiger in charge of her. The blind tiger held two strings; one was attached to the girl, and the other to a large tiger who had gone out with the rest of the tigers, but who, at the slightest pull of the string, was ready to return to give any assistance required of him.

The monkey whispered to the girl to try and free herself, and meantime, he began to sweep the room, and busy himself, so that the old blind tiger might think the girl was busy at her household work.

After a time the girl managed to get away, and she fled with the Prince, until the monkey thought they were at a safe distance; then he turned round and dealt several blows to the old blind tiger, who, in her turn, pulled the string. A great big tiger at once came to her assistance, and asked what had happened, but he was enraged to find that the girl had gone, and beat the old tiger soundly, before setting off in hot pursuit.

On the way he saw a man, who was in reality the monkey in disguise, sitting beside a funeral pyre.

"What is this for?" asked the tiger.

"A certain tiger," said the monkey, "has killed his mother to-day, and this is to burn her upon."

The tiger felt remorse, for he had not meant to kill the old tiger, so he rushed back to the den, and this gave the fugitives time to escape yet further; but when the tiger found his mother alive and well, he was so angry that he dragged her out of the den by her feet and threw her on the ground.

Then he ran back to where the monkey was sitting and found him still busy with the funeral pyre, for he said that an old woman had been dragged out by her feet that day, and she was even now being carried to be burnt.

The tiger was filled with remorse at what he had done, and for a second time ran back to the den. By this time both the Prince and the Princess had escaped in safety, and the monkey joined them.

They were always good to him, but he pined for the woods and the forests; yet, whenever he asked to be allowed to return, they would not allow it. So one day he determined to make the Princess so angry that she would herself turn him out. He awaited his opportunity, and broke all the thread as she was spinning. The Princess threw something heavy at his head, and he feigned to fall down dead.

Great were the lamentations over the faithful monkey, and he was carried in solemn ceremony to be burnt, just as though he were a Rajah's son; but the moment they laid him upon the fire, up he jumped, and ran off.

The Princess scolded him for causing her such sorrow, but he explained that since there was no other way of getting back into the forest and regaining his liberty, he had thought this the best way. Then they all came home, and let the monkey sport in the forest as before.

THE JACKAL AND THE GUANA

A jackal once made itself a throne of bones near the river-side, and levied toll on all the animals that came there to drink water, making each say in turn these words:

"Golden is your throne,
Silver is its plaster,
In your ears are golden earrings,
And you sit like a Rajah."

This praise pleased the jackal, and he was puffed up with his own importance.

One day a guana, or iguana, a very large lizard, called by the natives "Go," came to the river, but when the jackal asked it to repeat the words, it said: "Let me drink first, for I am dying of thirst;" so he let it drink, and when it had finished, it said:

"Bones are your throne,
With cow dung are they plastered,
In your ears are shoes,
And you sit like a jackal."

This made the jackal wild with anger, so he ran after the Go to kill it, and caught its tail in his teeth, just as the Go was getting into a hole. "Hoo hoo," said the jackal.

"Don't say Hoo, say Ha," called the Go; so the jackal said "Ha!" and in order to say it, had to open his mouth, so the Go escaped!

THE STORY OF THE BLACK COW

There was a certain Brahmin whose wife died leaving him one little son. For some time the two lived happily together, but at last the Brahmin married for a second time, and the woman, who had a daughter of her own, was very unkind to her little stepson.

Each day the two children went out together to attend to the cattle, and at night they returned home to eat their food. But the cakes made by the Brahmin's wife for her stepson were of ashes, with just a little flour mixed in to give them the appearance of food, that the Brahmin might not notice; and the child ate in silence, for he was afraid to complain, yet, when he was alone in the forest he wept from hunger, and a black cow, one of the herd, saw this, and asked him what was the matter.

The boy told her everything, and presently she beat her hoofs upon the ground. As she did so, sweets of all kinds appeared, which the child ate greedily, and shared with his little sister, warning her the while not to mention at home what the black cow had done, lest the stepmother should be angry.

The stepmother meanwhile wondered to see how well the boy looked, and she resolved to keep watch, for she suspected that he drank the milk while tending her cows; so she told her little daughter to keep a good look-out on all his doings, and to let her know. At last the girl confessed that they ate sweets every day, and the black cow provided the feast.

That day when the Brahmin came home his wife begged him to sell the black cow, and said she would neither sleep nor eat until this was done.

The poor boy was sad indeed when he heard this, and went at once to his favourite, where, throwing himself on the black cow's neck, he wept bitterly.

"Do not weep, my child, but get up on my back, and I will carry you to a place of safety where we can still be together."

So they escaped to a forest, and there lived in peace and security for many days.

Now, in the forest was a hole, which led to the home of the Great Snake, which, together with a bull, holds up the universe. Into this hole the black cow poured five seers of milk daily to feed the snake. This pleased the snake so much that he said one day: "I must go up into the world and see for myself the creature who is so good to me and who sends me such good milk to drink."

When he came he saw the black cow grazing with the boy beside her.

The cow asked no favours for herself, but when the snake asked what she would like, she said she would like her son, as she called the Brahmin's son, to be clothed in gold from head to foot, and that all his body might shine as gold.

This wish the snake readily granted, but both cow and boy afterwards regretted their request, for they feared robbers.

One day as the boy had his bath by the river, and combed his long locks of pure gold, some of his golden hair fell into the water, and was swallowed by a fish. This fish was caught by a fisherman, and taken for sale to the King's Palace. When they cut it open all present admired the lovely golden hair, and when the Princess saw it, she said she would never be happy again until she met the owner. The fisherman was asked where he caught the fish, and people were despatched in all directions in boats to search both far and wide.

At last a man in one of the boats espied in the distance a beautiful shining object taking a bath by the river-side. Little by little the boat came closer and closer, until it was alongside; then the man called out and asked the bather to come a little nearer. At first the Brahmin's son would not listen, but after a time he came up to the boat, when, to his surprise, he was at once seized, tied up, and carried away.

Arrived at the King's Palace he met the Princess, who was very beautiful; and when he saw her he forgot everything else, and thought only of her.

After a short time they were married, and spent many happy days together; but some one chanced to offer them a sweet-meat made of curds, such as the black cow often gave her boy, and in a frenzy of remorse, the Brahmin's son remembered his faithful friend and hastened to the place in the distant forest where he had last seen her. Arrived there he found only a few bones of dead cattle strewn about.

He was heart-broken at the sight, and gathered all the bones together into a funeral pyre, upon which he declared he would lay down his own life; but just as he was about to do this who should appear but his old friend, the black cow.

They were overjoyed to see each other, and she told him she had only kept the bones there to test his affection; but now that she was satisfied that he had not forgotten her, the meeting was full of happiness and joy, so they held a great feast for many days and then went their separate ways as before.

THE BRAHMIN AND THE WILD GEESE

There was once a Brahmin who had a large family, and was very poor. Every day he went out into the Bazaar to beg, but whether he begged for only an hour, or for the whole day, he seldom succeeded in getting a seer of atta (two pounds of flour).

Now this made his wife very angry, for she thought that the longer he begged, the more he should gain. She suspected that he sold what he was given, instead of bringing it home for his family, so she accused him and beat him soundly.

The Brahmin was deeply vexed at her treatment, and determined to go to the river and there drown himself; yet when he tried to do so, his courage failed, so he alternately threw himself into the water and then changed his mind and came out again.

His conduct attracted the attention of a couple of wild geese, who had their nest near by.

"I wonder what that man is doing; I think I will go and see," said the gander; but his wife advised him not, "for who knows the ways of human beings."

Yet he would not listen, and going up to the Brahmin, asked him the reason of his strange conduct.

The Brahmin told him everything, and when he had done the goose said: "Shut your eyes till I tell you to open them."

The Brahmin did as he was told, and on opening his eyes, the goose held out to him in its beak, a most valuable and beautiful ruby.

"Take this, my friend, and sell it to a Rajah, and then your troubles will be all over."

The Brahmin thanked him warmly, and went off with his treasure to the nearest State; there the Rajah looked at the ruby, but said he could not afford to buy so valuable a gem unless the Brahmin would accept for it seven mule loads of money. This the Brahmin gladly consented to do, and returned to his home a rich man.

Some time after this, the poor Rajah who had bought the ruby got leprosy, and called all the physicians he could find to cure him. One of these said he would be cured if he ate the flesh of a wild goose, and applied its fat to his hands.

That very day the Rajah sent for the Brahmin, and told him to go without delay and fetch him a wild goose, when he would reward him greatly. Now, the Brahmin loved money, and for his greed of gold, forgot all the kindness of the wild goose, and made up his mind to secure it; so he went to the river as before, and began to try and drown himself.

The geese watched him with much concern, for they wondered what had caused this fresh trouble, after all that had been done for him. Perhaps a thief had stolen the ruby. The old gander ran to enquire, but his wife warned him not to go.

"What is the matter, O Brahmin?"

"Nothing, my friend, except that I wish to behold your face again."

"Well, here I am."

"Ah, not so far, my friend; come nearer that I may caress you," cried the Brahmin.

So the foolish bird came nearer, and no sooner had he done so, than the Brahmin seized him and put him in a bag, with only his head out.

As they went along, the poor goose shed bitter tears of reproach, and each tear became a beautiful pearl. The Rajah's son chanced to come that way, saw the pearls, and followed in their track, until he came to the spot where the Brahmin sat.

"What is in your bag?" he asked; "and why do pearls fall from it as you walk along?"

The Brahmin denied that he had anything in his bag, but the Prince would not listen, and accused him of theft; so at length he opened it, and displayed the wild goose.

The poor bird told the Prince of all he had done for the Brahmin, and of the poor return and ingratitude he was having now. This made the Prince very angry, and he at once released the goose, who gladly flew away.

The Brahmin then went to the Rajah, and told him what his son had done, and orders were at once given to banish the Prince from the kingdom.

Then the Prince went to the river and told the wild goose of his banishment, and, out of gratitude, the goose and his wife brought food and fruit daily, and placed it before him. This went on for some time, and then the geese decided to find a wife for their visitor.

Now a lovely Princess lived in a Palace close to that place; and one night, while she slept, the two geese joined wings under her bed, and carried her to the river. In the morning when she awoke she was surprised to find herself in this lonely place.

But the Prince met her and told her that he too was banished; and they became great friends and soon afterwards were married. The wild geese gave them many beautiful and valuable gifts, and they went to live in the former home of the Princess.

THE FOUR-GIFTED PRINCESS

There was once a King, who was sitting with his wife before the fire when they heard a partridge call. The King said: "That sound comes from the left," and his wife said it came from the right, so they had a bet about it, and the Rajah said: "If you are right you may have my kingdom, and I will cease to reign any longer;" so he went out, and found that his wife was right.

This being the case, he began to make preparations to leave, and to make over his kingdom to her; but, as he was about to do this, his servants, who knew of the bet, advised him not to be so foolish, but to take another wife, and to do away with this one, rather than part with the kingdom. At first the King would not listen, but after a time he agreed to leave the matter in their hands.

That night they waited till the poor Ranee lay asleep, and took her as she slept, placed her in a box, locked it up, and threw it into a river.

An old Fakir was in the habit of bathing in the river very early in the morning, and when he came he found the box and opened it. The Ranee was unconscious, but not dead; so he carried her to his own home, and there looked after her until she recovered.

Now the Ranee was about to present the kingdom with an heir, and was very miserable to find herself deserted and in a strange home at such a time, so she cried bitterly, and three fairies were sent to her assistance.

Soon after this a little daughter was born to her, and when the child was a month old, the three fairies took their leave, but, before going, each determined to leave a parting gift for the little Princess.

The first said that whenever she placed her foot on a stone it would turn to either silver or gold. The second said that whenever she laughed sweet scented flowers would fall from her lips. The third said that whenever she cried pearls would fall from her eyes.

All these things came to pass, so in time they built a beautiful Palace.

One day the Rajah passed that way, and asked the Brahmin how he had built such a lovely Palace in the place of his old mud-hut.

The old man told him how he had found the box, and all about the Queen, his wife, whom he thought was dead.

The Rajah owned his sin, and implored forgiveness of his wife. At first she refused to forgive him, but after a time she listened, and the Rajah said that, if ever again he did anything to vex or hurt her, the old Fakir might punish him as he thought best.

Now the Indian people dread the punishment of a holy Fakir; so the Queen returned to her former Palace, and lived happily ever after.

THE MAN WHO WENT TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE

There was once a Zemindar or Jhut who was very poor, and he had a brother who was very rich, but the rich brother never helped him at all and often reproached him for his poverty.

One day the poor Zemindar determined to go out into the wide world to seek his fortune, and not to return until he had found it.

Having thus made up his mind he set out on his journey, and the first thing he came across was a King's Palace, which was in the hands of carpenters and masons; but no sooner had they built it up on one side, than the other side fell down, so that the place was at all times under repairs, and caused its owner much expense and anxiety.

As the Zemindar stood watching the place, the King came out, and asked him who he was, and where he was going; so he told him that it was to seek his fortune.

"Well, when you get to the place where you find it, will you think of me, and enquire the reason why my Palace is constantly falling down?"

This the Zemindar promised to do, and then continued on his journey.