Chapter III: Part 3

The next place he arrived at was a river, and a turtle was on its bank. It asked him whither he was going, and he said: "To seek my fortune."

"Friend, remember me when it is found, and say that the poor turtle, although it lives in water, suffers from a severe burning sensation inwardly. Pray enquire the reason of this."

So the Zemindar promised, and, as a reward, the turtle bore him across the river on its back.

After another long journey, when he was both hungry and footsore, the Zemindar spied in the distance a most beautiful plum tree. It was the season for plums, so he determined to have a good feast of the fruit, and plucked one of the largest and best, but it tasted so bitter that he quickly threw it away, and, turning to the tree in anger and disappointment, cursed it.

"You are fair to look at, but otherwise good for nothing," he cried bitterly.

"Alas!" replied the tree, "this is what all travellers say to me. Yet I cannot discover why my fruits are bitter. Will you, O traveller, find out for me in your travels, and bring me word?"

After leaving the plum tree, the Zemindar went into a thick jungle, and in the midst of it found an old Fakir fast asleep. He did not know that this holy man had slept for twelve years, and was just about to awake. While he stood there the old Fakir opened his eyes, and saw him.

"Son, you have looked after me while I was asleep; who are you and where are you going?"

"I am going to seek my fortune, for I am a poor man."

"Go no further, but return the same way that you have come," said the old Fakir.

"Before I go, will you tell me, O holy Fakir, why a certain Rajah's house is always falling down, though he is constantly rebuilding it."

"The Rajah has a daughter who is grown up but unmarried; when she is married the trouble will cease."

"A turtle is troubled with burning sensations inwardly, and would be glad to know the cause."

"The turtle is full of wisdom, but selfishly keeps all its knowledge to itself. Let it tell half it knows to another, and it will become quite well."

"There is a beautiful plum tree whose fruits are bitter to the taste. What is the cause of this?"

"There is hidden treasure at the root of the tree, and when this is removed, the fruit will be sweet," said the old Fakir.

Then the Zemindar thanked him, made a low salaam, and returned the same way he had come.

First he met the plum tree, and it at once enquired if he had found out why its fruit was bitter, and he told it the reason.

"It is yours to remove that cause, my friend, so dig quickly, and see what there is at my roots."

The Zemindar did as he was bid, and found a box full of treasure--pearls, and gold, and rubies--so he tied them in his blanket, and went on his way.

At the river his friend the turtle awaited him eagerly; so the Zemindar explained everything, and the turtle said: "I will impart half the knowledge to you as a reward; stoop down and listen."

The man did as he was bid, and the creature imparted great wisdom to him in whispers.

After this he met the King, who said: "Well, traveller, what news? Have you found your fortune?"

"Yes, O King, and the cause of your trouble is, that, until your daughter is married, your house will continue to fall down."

"Will you marry her?" said the King.

The Zemindar gladly consented, and the marriage took place with great pomp. After it he returned to his own home, and there his elder brother met him.

"You see, brother," said the Zemindar, "that you said it was my fate to have but a seer of atta (flour a day), but I have found my good fortune at last."

THREE WISE MEN AND THE KING'S DAUGHTER

A King had a very beautiful daughter, and was anxious that she should marry some one who had made himself famous in some particular way.

Three men in the city came forward and begged the King for her hand in marriage.

"But what can you do?" asked the King.

"I can tell if a thing is lost, where to find it," said the first, "and produce it if required."

The second said: "I can make such wonderful horses out of wood, that they can rise to any height and go anywhere."

The third said: "I can shoot with my bow any living thing."

The King was pleased, and went and told his daughter, asking her to choose which she would have as a husband.

"I will tell you to-morrow," said the girl.

The King agreed, but on the morrow she was nowhere to be found, and her father, much distressed, went to the three wise men.

"Now," said he to the first, "tell me where my daughter is."

"She is with the fairies," he replied, "and unless the one in charge of her is killed, she cannot return."

Then the King turned to the other two men. To the horse-maker he said: "Go and make me a horse," and to the other: "Take your bow and arrow, mount the horse, and go and shoot the fairy: bring my daughter back with you."

Forthwith the men prepared: the horse was made, and mounted by the man with his bow and arrows, then they all disappeared into the skies. There they found the King's daughter guarded by a fairy.

The third man soon shot the fairy with his bow and arrow, and, lifting the Princess upon his horse, returned with her to her father.

Now each man felt that he had an equal claim upon her, and had earned her as his wife; so the King asked her to decide.

"I will marry the man who shot the fairy," said she, "and no other."

This decision being final, they had a grand feast in celebration of her marriage.

Moral.--Those who think they have the best claim, do not always attain their desires!

BARBIL'S SON

A Rajah's son once went to worship at a sacred stone; when there, he beheld a lovely young girl, so, falling on his face before the stone, he said: "If you will but give me this girl as my bride, I will give you my head as a sacrifice."

His prayer was granted, and he married the girl.

For two months he was so happy that he never remembered his vow, but at the end of that time, a Brahmin came and reminded him of it. So, after bidding his wife a loving farewell, he went sadly away, and, cutting off his head, placed it near the stone as a sacrifice.

Now his father, Barbil, missing him, came there to search, and was horrified to find his son's dead body with the head offered to the stone.

"What is my life worth to me now? I will also sacrifice myself," said he, and forthwith he too cut off his own head and placed it beside that of his son.

The bride, finding neither father nor husband return, went forth in search of them; and, seeing what had happened, determined to add her own life to the sacrifice.

She was just about to destroy herself when a voice near by said: "Daughter, do not hurt yourself. The heads alone are off, but if you take them and place them beside the bodies, they will unite again."

The delighted girl immediately did as she was directed, and the two heads were united to the bodies, so that she once again saw her husband and father alive.

But no sooner did they begin to speak than she found that she had made a terrible mistake, for, in her eagerness to restore the heads to their bodies again, she had not noticed that she had united her husband's head to his father's body, and Barbil's head to her husband's body.

While the two men quarrelled over this mistake, the poor girl, greatly distressed, appealed to the Gods to help her. They bade her cease weeping.

"The head is the principal thing," said they; "do not mind the body: if you were the daughter of a poor man and married a Prince, Barbil, having taken the form of the Prince, is also of royal blood, so it matters not. Let him that has the head of your husband be your husband again, and he who has the head of the King be the King."

Thus they settled the matter, and returned home.

Moral.--The head ruleth the body, and not the body the head!

THE TIGER AND THE RATS

An old tiger became ill in the jungles, and, being unable to use his teeth, was much troubled by rats, who used to come and eat his food before he had time to touch it.

Nearly starved to death, he appealed to the fox, who said: "Why do you not keep a cat? you will then soon be rid of your trouble."

The tiger thought this an excellent idea, and immediately sent for a cat.

Now the cat was a very cunning animal, and thought to herself, how nice it was to be in the service of the tiger. "But," said she, "I will only drive away the rats, because, if I kill them, the tiger will have no further need of me, and my employment will be gone."

So she kept watching by the tiger all night and drove away the rats.

One day she said to the tiger: "To-night, if you do not mind, I'd like to take a holiday, and would like you to take care of my kitten."

"Very well," said the tiger.

So the cat brought the kitten, and, leaving it with the tiger, went away.

The kitten was a splendid ratter, and, not knowing why it had been put near the tiger, was surprised and delighted to see the rats, which it speedily killed; and then arranged in a line to show its mother on her return in the morning.

But as soon as the cat saw them she grew very angry, and said: "What have you done? you have taken away my employment."

The poor little kitten said that it did not know that it was not to kill rats, and was very unhappy.

Then the tiger came forward, and dismissed them both, saying: "I am now rid of the rats, and require your service no longer."

So they went away crestfallen.

Moral.--Thus do people often make a convenience of those who are their best friends!

THE ADVENTURES OF A BIRD

A small bird was once half buried in a puddle and could not escape, so it called to a passing stranger for help.

"Take me out, O stranger, and as a reward, you may eat me when my feathers are dried."

So the man assisted it; but no sooner were its wings free than it flew away without expressing a word of gratitude.

After going a short distance it found a cowrie (or small shell, the smallest current coin in India, and now very rarely used), and joyously exclaimed: "I have found a cowrie, I have money--I am now higher than a Rajah."

A Rajah hearing this, sent a man to take away the cowrie. "See," said he, "that bird says it is higher than a Rajah."

So he took the cowrie, and brought it to the Rajah.

Whereupon the bird said: "See, that Rajah was hungry, so he took away my money."

This annoyed the Rajah so much (as only the poorest people deal in cowries) that he immediately restored it to the bird, who, nothing daunted, replied: "See, the Rajah was afraid, and so he has returned my cowrie."

This was going a little too far, and the Rajah, in a rage, ordered the offender to be shot.

Moral.--Let Well alone.

THE LEGEND OF NALDERA TEMPLE

At a little distance beyond Mushobra in the Simla district, stands an old, old temple of the Mongolian type, around which hangs a quaint wooden fringe, which causes a strange rattling sound on a windy day.

No priest lives within its sacred precincts, and the vicinity being the Viceroy's summer camping ground, the presiding "Deo," or deity, must often be disturbed by the light laughter and chatter of picnic parties from Simla.

Many years ago, before the present Rickshaw Road existed, a party of hillmen, gaily laughing and talking as they swung along, carrying a "Dandy" (or kind of litter), arrived at the place.

It was about 11 A.M. on a bright October morning, and the keen wit of the men as they exchanged repartee with many bright-eyed Paharee maidens, seemed in keeping with the cool, crisp air and turquoise blue sky; but suddenly a deep silence fell upon them.

They had come within sight of a number of enormous boulders which lay scattered, as though hurled by some earthquake or invisible force along the precipitous mountain side.

Not a word escaped the lips of the four men till they had turned the corner which bounds Naldera Temple; then they took out their cheelums and smoked while they told this tale:

"Years and years ago there stood in this place a beautiful and prosperous city, full of houses and people.

"The present Temple stood in its midst, but the people were wicked and sinful, so one day the 'Deo' arose in great wrath and hurled the entire city with its inhabitants down into the precipice, so that not one stone was left standing upon another; and the grey rocks and solitary Temple alone remain to tell the tale of past splendour and prosperity."

THE BUNNIAH'S WIFE AND THE THIEF

A Bunniah, or merchant, lying awake one night, saw a thief enter the room. So he whispered to his wife: "Wife, wife, a thief is in the room; what are we to do?"

Now his wife was a very clever woman, and she replied: "Why are you waking me? I was having such a fine dream."

"What did you dream?" asked her husband.

"I dreamt that I had three fine sons, and they were named 'Mugwani,' 'Hajee,' and 'Chor.'" (The last name means "thief.")

"What silly names!" said the Bunniah. "How could you call out to them?"

"By their names, of course," replied she.

"But how could you call 'Chor'? If it happened to be night, what would people think?"

"Why, I would call him like this, loud: 'Chor!' 'Chor!'" and she jumped up and ran out of the room, followed by her husband, the two calling "Chor! Chor!" as loudly as they could.

The thief, thinking they were only pretending, remained silent under the bed, waiting for their return. They soon came back with a number of friends, who caught the thief and took him away to prison.

WHO STOLE THE RUBY?

A dying King called his three sons to him and gave each of them a ruby. "Keep this," said he, "in remembrance of your father."

The three rubies were put into a box and locked up. Some time afterwards, on opening the box, only two rubies were found in it, and the third one was missing.

Now the three sons knew that had a thief been there, he would have helped himself to all the stones, so they said within themselves: "One of our friends has done this; let us go and tell the Priest."

So they started off together, and on the way met a man, who said: "Friends, have you seen my camel?"

"Was it blind?" asked the eldest brother.

"Yes," said the man.

"Had it no tail?" asked the second.

"You are right," said the man.

"Was it carrying vinegar?" enquired the third.

"Yes," replied the man. "Did you see it?"

"No," said the brothers; "we did not see it."

"Very strange," returned the man; "you know all about it, and yet you did not see it. I will also go to the Priest and tell him about you."

So they went, and the man told the Priest his story.

"How is it that you three know all about the camel, and yet you did not see it?" said the Priest.

"Well," said the eldest, "I noticed that all the plants and shrubs on the way were eaten on one side only, so I concluded that the animal who had eaten them must have been blind not to see the other side."

"How did you know that it had no tail?"

"I saw the patch of mud where it sat down," replied the second brother, "and there was an imprint of a body but no tail."

The Priest then asked the third boy how he knew that the camel carried vinegar.

"Because all along the road were wet patches which smelt of vinegar."

These answers pleased the Priest very much, and he gave a feast for the brothers.

During the feast he sat down, and, unknown to them, watched and listened to find out what they were talking about.

The eldest said: "This grain he has given us to eat was grown in a cemetery."

The second said: "And this meat is not killed meat; it is some other flesh."

The youngest said: "The Priest himself is a villain."

Then the Priest ran out and caught the man who had sold him the grain.

"Tell me at once where you gathered this grain?" demanded he.

"From a cemetery," confessed the man.

After this the Priest sought the butcher, and said: "Where did you get that meat you sold me? Did you kill the sheep?"

The butcher admitted that it was the flesh of a goat which had dropped dead, and had not been killed.

Going back, the Priest resolved to catch the boys in their own net, and he told them a story about two men and a thief.

"Now," said he, when he had finished, "which of the three do you prefer?"

The eldest boy said he liked one man, and the second the other, but the third preferred the thief!

"Well," said the Priest, "if you prefer the thief, you yourself must be a thief. Where is the third ruby?"

On this the boy confessed that he had stolen it; and, taking it out of his pocket, restored it to his brother. The three went home together, and lived happily ever afterwards.

THE STORY OF VICKRAMADIT

A king once asked his daughters to tell him the reason why they were so comfortable and always clothed in fine raiment, with jewels to wear, and a Palace to live in.

They all said: "It is because we are your daughters, O King!"

But the youngest said: "I am what I am through my favourable destiny, and not because I happen to be your daughter; if good fortune be destined for us we shall have it under any circumstances."

At this the King was very angry, and said: "Leave my Palace at once, and see what your own luck will do for you; methinks your lucky stars will cease to shine once you have left my Palace."

But in order to further humiliate her, he determined to get her married to the poorest man in his kingdom, and one who was weak and sickly and about to die.

He therefore sent his servants to bring the first sickly-looking pauper they could find.

Now it so happened about this time that one Vickramadit, a holy mendicant, was lying outside the Palace gates stricken down with great suffering, and almost at the point of death; and they brought him as the most suitable man for the young Princess to marry.

The poor beggar Vickramadit was in reality a great King, who once reigned over the ancient and holy city of Ujjain; but he had abdicated his throne in order to become a "Sanyasi," or begging Fakir, and was then on a pilgrimage to Kasi, the holy city of Benares, where he hoped to pass the rest of his days in prayer, and the deeds of charity for which he was well known.

The sickness with which he was stricken down at the gates of the King's Palace was caused through his great love of God's creatures, and happened in this way.

One day, as he was walking along footsore and tired, a snake came up to him and said: "Can you give me some water to drink, for I am dying of thirst?"

Vickramadit replied: "I have no water in my gourd, having just drank it; but if you will promise not to harm me, you may creep down my throat into my body, and there drink your fill and return satisfied."

This the snake promised, but, instead of returning, it remained within him and refused to come back.

All that the beggar ate passed into the mouth of the snake; and in this way he soon found himself unable to travel, and obliged to rest, suffering at the same time great agonies from starvation and thirst.

When the King's servants found and brought him to the Palace, the young Princess was there and then forced to marry Vickramadit, and expelled from the town with her beggar husband.

Both King and Queen expressed a hope at parting that she would soon learn the lesson, that it was all due to them alone that she had fared so well hitherto.

As Vickramadit could not travel very far owing to weakness, she took shelter in the first small hut she could find, and there stayed, trying to alleviate his sufferings.

Now, near this hut was a mound of earth in which dwelt a snake. In the evenings, as is usual in India, the snake came out of his hole and stood on the mound of earth, where he hissed violently.

The snake which lived inside Vickramadit heard the sound, and hissed in reply. Then they began a conversation.

The snake on the mound said: "You traitor! You were given permission to drink water; and this is how you treat the holy Fakir, and break your promise to return without doing him any harm! You shall now be given a certain seed to eat which will entirely destroy your body, and you will die in agonies."

The other snake replied: "You miser! You 'dog in the manger,' who live over a mound beneath which lies vast treasures and priceless jewels! You know that you cannot use them yourself, and yet you will allow nobody else to touch them! Your end will be that a woman will kill you by pouring boiling milk and butter over you."

The young wife heard these two snakes denouncing each other, and determined to act upon what she had overheard. When leaving her father's house, she had managed to hide on her person a small pearl ring, and this she now pawned for a small sum of money, and purchased milk and butter.

Warming these to boiling point, she went over at midday and poured them into the snake's hole in the mound.

She also sought the seed, which would kill the snake her husband had swallowed, and gave it to him to eat.

Thus both snakes were killed, and all danger from them ceased to exist.

Vickramadit, after the destruction of the snake, improved rapidly, and soon regained his health and strength.

The young wife now turned her attention to the mound of earth, beneath which lay buried treasures.

She employed a few men to dig, and they soon unearthed several ghurras, or earthen vessels, full of priceless gems.

With these she went away, and very soon founded a great city, over which she made her lord King.

Thus Vickramadit once more reigned a King; and no Queen was more famous than the young Princess who had been so cruelly cast adrift by her father.

The old father heard of this new King, and of all the riches and splendour of his Court and Queen; and he sent men to enquire if it were true that his daughter was really as great as people reported.

The men returned and said: "O King, her riches, the magnificence of her Court and Palace, surpass all we have heard; she is indeed a great Queen, and has founded a mighty city."

The King then owned his mistake, and said: "My daughter was right when she said her greatness was due more to her individual luck than to the mere fact that she happened to be born my daughter; for has she not, in spite of all my ill-treatment of her, risen to be Queen, not of a small kingdom such as mine, but of a world-renowned kingdom."

Moral.--Thy kismet is thy fate; when that is good, then the most unfavourable circumstances, or the deepest gloom, cannot prevent its asserting itself.

THE WEAVER

There was a weaver who was unmarried, and all that he could earn in a day, in exchange for the cloth he wove, only amounted to two pounds of either rice or other grain.

One day he cooked some kitcherie, [1] and, placing it in a plate, left it to get cool, and went out to sell his cloth.

While he was away a jackal came and ate up the kitcherie; and on his return he found the jackal, so he tied it up and beat it severely.

Then he cooked some bread, which he ate, and again beat the jackal.

The poor creature thought: "Now my life will go, if this man keeps on beating me in this way."

When the man next went out to dispose of his cloth, the jackal, tied up by itself, felt very lonely, especially as it could hear its companions howling in the jungles; so it began to howl too, and, hearing it, one of its friends came to see where it was, and finding it, said: "Brother, what are you doing here?"

The poor jackal, bruised all over and swollen with the beating it had received, replied: "Friend, a man has caught me, and takes the greatest care of me; see how fat I have grown with eating all the hulwa-poories [2] he gives me. If you will release me, I will tie you here, and you will get a share of the good things."

So the two exchanged places, and the first jackal ran back gladly into the jungles.

On the return of the weaver he, as usual, began to beat the poor creature, who then spoke, and said: "Why are you beating me?"

The weaver, surprised, replied: "I have never heard this jackal speak before!"

"That one has gone, and he tied me here in his place, and told me I should get all sorts of good things to eat; but if you will release me, I will arrange a marriage with a King's daughter for you."

"What!" said the man, "I am only a poor weaver, and can you really get me married to a King's daughter?"

"Yes," returned the jackal.

So the weaver released it, and turning itself into a Brahmin, it crossed the river and presented itself at the court of a certain Rajah, to whom it said: "O King, I have found a rich weaver-caste Rajah, who wishes your daughter's hand in marriage."

The Rajah, much pleased, consented, and the Brahmin, on getting outside the Palace, once more turned into a jackal, and returned to the weaver.

"Follow me," said he, "and I will take you to the King's daughter."

So the weaver took up his blanket, which was all he possessed.

On their way they met a Dhobie, or washerman, carrying his bundle of clothes. The jackal gave him a gold mohur, and told him to spread all the clean clothes he possessed upon the trees around.

Further on they met a cotton-beater, or man who, in the East, beats cotton and prepares it to make up into pillows and quilts; to him they also gave a gold mohur, and asked in return for several large balls of cotton.

These they carried on a large plate to the river; and the jackal, leaving the weaver, returned as a Brahmin to the Rajah, who had seen the Dhobie's clothes in the distance, and thought they were tents pitched by his daughter's future husband.

The jackal had told the weaver to watch, and, as soon as he saw him enter the Palace, he was to take large lumps of cotton and throw them one by one into the river, so that they might be seen floating down the stream.

"The Bridegroom," explained the Brahmin, "has met with a terrible accident; all his possessions and his followers are lost in the river, and only he and I remain, dressed in the clothes in which we stand."

Then the Rajah ordered his musicians and followers to come out, and go with horses in great pomp to bring the weaver, who was forthwith married to the Princess.

After the marriage the Brahmin said: "This son-in-law of yours has lost all he had; what is the use of his returning to his country? Let him stay here with you."

To this the Rajah, who loved his daughter, gladly consented, and gave them a fine house and grounds.

Now the weaver, who was not accustomed to good society, or to living with those above his station in life, made a salaam, or obeisance, such as a poor man is wont to do, to his wife every morning, and she began to suspect that he had deceived her, and was not a real Rajah. So she asked him one day to tell her the whole truth about himself, and he did so.

"Well," said she, "you have owned it to me, but do not let my father or mother know; for now that I am married to you, things cannot be altered, and it is better that they should remain in ignorance; but whatever my father may ask you to do, promise me that you will do it, always answering 'Yes, I will,' to anything he may suggest."

To this the weaver agreed; and shortly afterwards the Rajah called him and enquired if he was willing to help him, and, as promised, the man replied, "Yes, I will." Then he went to his wife and told her, and she commended him.

Next day the King told him that two brothers, by name "Darya" and "Barjo," threatened to fight and take his kingdom from him, and he desired his son-in-law to go to the stables and select a horse on which to ride on the morrow to battle.

In the stables was a horse that was standing on three legs. "This," thought the weaver, "will just suit me, for it seems lame and has only three legs to go on, and making this an excuse, I'll keep behind all the rest, and out of danger."

Now this horse [3] used to eat a quarter of a pound of opium daily, and could fly through the air, so that when the Rajah heard of the selection he was very delighted, and said to himself: "What a clever man this is, that he is able to discover which is the best horse!"

The day following he had the horse brought round, and mounted it in fear and trembling, having himself securely tied on lest he should fall off, while, to weight himself equally, he fastened a small millstone on either side.

As soon as the groom released the horse, it flew up into the air, then down again, and then up through the branches of trees, which broke off and clung to the weaver's arms and body, so that he presented a strange spectacle. He was terrified, and kept on crying out: "O Darya! Barjo! for your sakes have I come to my death."

The two Princes, Darya and Barjo, seeing this strange horse flying through the air, and hearing their names coming from a queer object all covered with branches of trees, were very much alarmed, and said: "If more come like this, we shall indeed be lost; one is enough for us."

So they wrote to the King, and said: "We have seen your warrior; stay in your country, and we will stay in ours: we cannot fight."

And they sent him a peace-offering.

THE DOG WHO WAS A RAJAH

A daughter was once born to a Brahmin and his wife, and from the day of its birth a dog came daily and laid down in the house.

This made the mother say, in jest, when the child would not cease crying: "Stop, or I shall give you to the dog."

And the Brahmin added: "I will give her to the dog when she is grown up."

When the girl grew up, he said to the dog one day, in a fit of temper: "Here, take my daughter, and do as you wish with her."

The mother now regretted her jest, which had suggested this idea to her husband, and said: "Here, my child, take this handful of seeds, and, as you go, strew them along the road, so that I may know where to find you."

As the girl went along she scattered the seeds, and at last she arrived at a field in which was a small baoli, or well. Here she sat down, and told the dog she was thirsty.

"Go and drink from the well," said the dog.

As she approached the dog followed her, and they saw a ladder leading to the bottom of the well, so that they climbed down and came to a fine house with lovely gardens and flowers, and servants ready to receive them. These belonged to the dog, who was in reality a Rajah, and only assumed the shape of a dog when he left the well.

Some time after this the Brahmin expressed a wish to go and visit his daughter. So his wife told him to follow the track of any freshly sprung-up little plants he might see.

He followed out her directions, and found the small trees led to the well; and as he felt thirsty, he looked in and saw the ladder; so he descended by it, and found the dog had become a Rajah.

Going round the grounds with his daughter, he noticed a house made of gold. "What is this?" asked he.

"It is for you, my father."

So he went in and found everything perfect, except that in one of the walls was a great crack.

"That crack," explained the Rajah, who had joined them, "was caused when you first drank water at the well; and it will remain there until you undo the wrong you did your daughter in giving her to a dog, for you did not then know who he really was. To undo the wrong you must serve me as my cowherd for twelve years, after which time the crack in the wall will close up of its own accord."

The Brahmin then went to his wife and told her all that had happened; and they returned together to the Rajah, whose cows he tended for twelve years, after which the crack in the golden wall came together of itself; and thus the wrong was righted.

THE FOURTH WIFE IS THE WISEST

There was a Bunniah who had an only son, who had married four wives; of these, three were fools, and only one was wise.

For some reason the Rajah of that country got angry with the Bunniah, and said that he and all his family were to go away, for he would not permit them to remain in his kingdom any longer; also, they were not to take away any of their jewels or possessions with them, except such things as they were wearing at the time.

Hearing this, the youngest of the four wives asked if she might be allowed to bake some bread, to take for them to eat on the journey.

This was permitted, and, in kneading the flour, she dropped four very valuable and beautiful rubies into it, and then having cooked the bread, showed it to the people as she left, and said: "See, I take nothing with me except this bread."

They journeyed far away into another country, and were very poor. Then the Bunniah said to his youngest daughter-in-law: "Daughter, what are we to do to live? We have no money and no clothes."

She was silent for a long time, and then said: "We must sell our jewels, but in the meantime take this"--giving him one of the rubies--"and sell it."

Now this ruby was worth a very great deal of money, and the Bunniah took it gratefully, thinking all the time what a wise girl his daughter-in-law was, to think of bringing it as she had done.

He then went to a rich merchant, who in reality was not a merchant at all, but a clever thief, and who, as soon as he set eyes on the ruby, knew it to be a valuable one, and determined to have it.

"Go," said he to one of his servants, "and bring me a basket full of money that I may pay for this valuable stone;" and as the servant left, he turned to the Bunniah, offering him a chair, and said: "Sit down, friend."

Now this chair was a specially prepared one, being kept by the thief as a trap for the unwary. The seat was of raw cotton, under which was a great hole into which anybody who sat on the chair would fall. It was carefully covered over with a piece of clean white cloth, so that nothing was noticed.

On it the poor Bunniah sat, and as the soft cotton gave way under him, he found himself in the hole, over which the thief carefully placed a great stone and left him, while he quietly pocketed the ruby.

As the Bunniah did not return to his home for many days, his daughter-in-law called her husband, and gave him the second ruby. "Go, seek thy father," said she; "and if you find him, bring me back this ruby, and buy food and clothes with one you will find with him."

The young man searched high and low for his father, but, not finding him, he decided to sell his ruby, and by ill chance went to the same merchant who had robbed the Bunniah.

The thief treated him in exactly the same way, and, after having stolen the ruby, trapped him into the same hole as his father.

Finding that neither husband nor father returned, the woman sold her jewels, and bought clothes and food for the rest of the family; but for herself she secretly bought the outfit of a policeman, or chowkidar, and resolved to work in that capacity. So she presented herself at the King's Court, and he, taking a fancy to the handsome face of the young man (for she was disguised as such), gave her employment.

Living in the jungles near that place was a terrible "Rakhas," or evil spirit, and that night, while on duty, the new policeman was startled by a roar like that of a tiger; but as soon as the "Rakhas" perceived him, it assumed the form of a woman, and coming up, said weeping: "The Rajah has hanged my husband, and I wish to see him once more, but cannot reach because the gallows are high."

"Climb upon my back," said the policeman.

The woman did so, but as soon as she got near enough she began to eat her supposed husband.

On this the young policeman, drawing his sword, cut off the woman's head, and as she fell, being enchanted, she disappeared, but a silver anklet from one of her feet was left behind.

Next morning the policeman carried the anklet to the King, and told him what had happened, and how the strange woman had disappeared as he struck her with his sword.

The King was much pleased at the youth's bravery, and also with the silver anklet, which was full of precious stones of great value, and, turning to the policeman, he said: "Ask what you will, and I will give it to you, even if you ask my daughter in marriage."

The man replied: "O King, I ask nothing; but grant me, I pray you, control over the entire bazaar, that I may kill, banish, hang, or release, and do as I like with the people who dwell there."

The King granted this request, and having discovered the thief in the supposed merchant, the policeman went to him and boldly demanded the release of his father and son.

But the thief denied all knowledge of the affair.

Then the young man entered the shop, and, lifting up the great stone, beheld the two unfortunate men, who were nearly starved to death.

Having released them, he took the thief to the King, and told him what had happened. After they had hanged the wicked thief, the young policeman changed his clothes and appeared as a woman.

The King was greatly surprised, but so pleased at all she had done, that he called her his "daughter," and gave her husband, father, and other relations money and goods, so that they lived in contentment for the rest of their lives.

THE STORY OF PIR SAB

Very, very far away in the north of India is a big river, and many years ago there lived, not very far from its banks, an old woman who had an only daughter--a beautiful girl, who, when she grew up, was given in marriage to a man who lived in a village on the opposite bank of the river; and all preliminaries being arranged, a day was fixed for the marriage party with the bride to cross over.

A gay company with songs and music set out, and everything went well until they reached the middle of the stream. The current is strong and dangerous in that place, and in less time than it takes to say it, the joyous party, with its music and songs and drummers, and the litter which held the bride, was hurled into the seething water, and every soul sank and was drowned.

The old woman alone, who had remained at home on account of her feeble age, escaped, and sad indeed was she when she came to hear of her daughter's fate.

Her own home grew lonely and uncongenial to her, so, in a half-frenzied state, she betook herself to the river side, and there spent many hours every day calling to the river to give up her dead.

This went on for twenty years! One day Pir Sab, a pious Mahamedan, arrived there, and was about to say his prayers when the old woman attracted his attention.

"Pray, why do you weep, old woman?" he said.

"For my child, a beautiful bride who, with all her wedding guests, was drowned in this river twenty years ago."

"Twenty years! and you have mourned so long?" Thus saying, Pir Sab dismounted from his horse, and covering his head with a sheet, he stood by the river and cried: "O river, restore the dead! O river, restore the dead! O river, restore the dead!"

At the third cry a bridal party was seen to approach, and the long-lost ones, with the young bride, were restored to the old woman as unchanged as upon the day they were drowned, and in perfect ignorance of the flight of years.

A voice was then heard from the Great Unseen, which said: "O Pir Sab, I have heard your prayer. At your first cry these restored ones came forth from the fishes, who had eaten them; at your second call I re-formed them into human form; and at your third call they went forth with life."

Now, who was Pir Sab, and how did he possess this power?

Mahamed, when he was upon earth, sometimes took flights into Heaven. On such occasions he generally called on anybody near at hand to assist him up, or give him a push upwards. On one occasion he had called thrice for help without meeting with any response, when Pir Sab, a strong man, knelt before him, and with one spring from his shoulder, Mahamed reached the fourth Heavens!

In return for this kindness it was granted to Pir Sab to perform miracles.

Note.--The man who related this story to me added the following modern miracle:

"During the late Chitral expedition there was with Umra Khan's forces a remarkable man, the son of one Akhum Sab, who died some years ago. Now Akhum Sab was a devout man, who never failed to pray every Friday, as all good Mahamedans do, with their faces turned towards Mecca, the holy city, which is four months' journey from the north of India, so that many who wish to visit it cannot. Yet this man used to enter his room, and close the door at two o'clock daily, and come out after seven minutes (you may believe me or not); but, during those seven minutes, he went to Mecca, said his prayers in the holy Mosque there, and returned! This he did every Friday; I have seen it with my own eyes!"--A.E.D.

THE ORIGIN OF A RIVER

There stands on the old Agra Bombay Road, between Goona in Central India and Jhansi, a small village beside a stream, and this used to be a bathing stage for travellers in the old days, before railways were known in India.

In the village there once lived a man whose wife died, leaving an only daughter. The girl, as she grew to womanhood, had a very bad time of it, as all the housework fell upon her shoulders. She had to cook her father's food and carry it to him in the fields; to draw water for the cattle and look after them, besides many other things which took up her time and strength.

So she invoked the aid of the Gods.

Next time she went to draw water from the well, which was a very deep one, and required a long, long string for the bucket, she looked in, and lo! the water had risen to the top, and was almost overflowing, so that there was no need to draw any; and her father's cattle stood round and drank their fill.

Then she filled her chattie with water, and enjoyed a bath in the sunshine.

After a time the water sank to its usual level. Thus far all was well, but her father noticed how quickly the cattle had been watered, and how soon his daughter returned home: also he missed the long rope which she always carried on her arm. He began to suspect that some unknown man, a stranger to himself, used to help her, and determined to watch.

A great fig tree grew beside the well; and one day he concealed himself in its branches.

As usual, his daughter came with the cattle, and all happened as before. He was struck with wonder and amazement at what he saw.

Just as the girl was about to take her usual bath, she looked up and saw him.

In a moment she felt that he had suspected her of some evil. "Father," cried she, "why do you look with an evil eye on your child? Do you not believe that the Gods have helped her?"

But before her father could reply, she sank down to the bottom of the well with the water and never rose again, for the outraged Gods took her to themselves; and, in token of their displeasure, the well was cleft from top to bottom, and hillocks formed on either side. From this spot flows a tiny stream, which, if you follow it, becomes a mighty river.

THE GOLDEN SCORPIONS

There once lived in a certain village a poor man who went out daily to beg, carrying in his hand a small vessel made from a gourd, such as the Jogis, or holy Fakirs, in India use.

In it he carried home his scanty meal of flour each evening.

One day he placed the gourd, which was empty at the time, upon the ground, and went to some little distance to drink water.

On his return he was amazed to find it full of scorpions.

Seizing it on one side, he carefully knocked it against a stone until the venomous things dropped off.

Great indeed was his surprise to find when he next looked into his gourd, that several scorpions still clung to it, but had been transformed by the Gods into pure gold, although their forms were retained.

Thus the good old man was enriched, but great was his disappointment when he remembered how many scorpions he had thrown away, for these might also have turned into gold had he kept them.

Moral.--There is good sometimes in even the evil things in life.

THE STORY OF A PEARL

A poor workman and his wife were once almost starving. Every day the man gathered sticks and sold them, while the woman remained at home.

"Wife," said the man one day, "come, we will both go and gather wood for sale to-day, so that, if we earn enough, we shall not eat rice only, but will buy a small fish, and eat that also."

The woman agreed, and having sold their stock of firewood, they returned home with a fish for dinner.

On opening it, a small white bead, round and shining, fell upon the floor. The woman was attracted by its brightness, and locked it up in a box.

Many days of poverty and hunger visited that household before the woman remembered the pretty stone found in the fish; but at last she thought of it, and took it to a Bunniah, who, as soon as he set eyes upon it, said: "Give me that, and I will give you as much as you can carry away of ghee and food and oil, not only to-day, but for many days, if you will come to my shop."

The foolish woman parted with her treasure, not knowing that it was a pearl of great value, and returned home laden with good things.

The Bunniah chuckled with delight. He was crafty, like all Bunniahs, and, you may depend, never kept his promise: such was the foolishness of the woman, and such the cunning and greed of the man.

THE BUNNIAH'S GHOST

Far away in a valley in the Himalayan mountains lies a little village, where once lived a good man who had his home beside a field in which grew a beautiful mulberry tree--so big and so beautiful that it was the wonder of the country round.

Hundreds of people were wont to gather together beneath it, and the poor carried away basket loads of its fruit. Thus it became a meeting place where a mela, or fair, was held when the fruit season was on.

Now the fame of it reached a certain Rajah who had rented out the land, and one day he came with all his retinue to see it.

"There is no such tree in the Royal Gardens," said the Grand Vizier.

"It is not meet that a subject should possess what the Rajah hath not," added the Prime Minister.

The Rajah replied not a word, for his heart was filled with envy; and that night, before going to bed, he gave orders that, on a certain day, in the early dawn, before anybody was astir, a party of armed men should take their axes to the village, and fell the mulberry tree even with the ground. But ill dreams disturbed the Rajah's rest, and he could not sleep.

Could it be fancy, or did he really see a strange man standing before him?

The strange man spoke: "O King, live for ever! I am the spirit of a Bunniah (or merchant) who died in yonder village many years ago. During my lifetime I defrauded the people. I gave them short measure and adulterated their food.

"When I died and passed into the Land of Unhappy Spirits, the Gods, who are just, O King! decreed that I should give back what I had stolen. My soul therefore went into a mulberry tree, where year after year the people gather fruit, and regain their losses.

"In one year more they will be repaid to the uttermost cowrie; [4] but you mean to destroy the tree and drive my soul I know not whither. Wherefore have I come to plead with you to spare it this once, for when a year is past it will die of itself and my soul find its way to that Land of Shadows which is the abode of the Gods--where it will find peace."

So the Rajah listened, and the strange man went away.

For one year longer the people sat as before under the cool shadow of the mulberry tree, and then it died. And was that all?

No: when they cut it down there was found deep in the earth one living root, and that they left, for who can destroy the soul?

Hindu Proverb.--"Pün ki jar sada hari." (The roots of charity are always green.)

BICKERMANJI THE INQUISITIVE

There was a certain Rajah whose name was Bickermanji. He was very inquisitive, and always wished to know everything that was going on in his kingdom, and what his subjects were doing.