Chapter IV: Part 4

At night he disguised himself in common clothes and a blanket, and walked quietly in the streets and bazaars to spy on the people. Next day, when complaints were brought to him of the doings of this or that person, he knew all about it.

In this way he observed that a certain woman, the wife of a Sowcar, or Bunniah, used to leave her home every night, carrying a ghurra, or chattie, on her head and some food in her hand. Arrived at the river, she floated the chattie, and sat upon it, thus getting a passage to the other side, where she visited a certain Fakir.

In the early morning she returned, carrying the chattie full of water for the day's use; and this being an everyday custom with native women in the East, it was never suspected that she had spent nearly the whole night away from her home. Bickermanji observed all this, and wondered to himself how the matter would end.

One day the woman's husband, who had been away in another country, returned, so she had to attend to his food, and could not get away as early as usual to carry dainty dishes to the Fakir, who was very angry when she arrived late, and made her excuses on account of her husband's arrival.

"What do I care for your husband?" said the Fakir. "Is he better than a holy mendicant? Go this moment and bring me his head."

This she did, much to the Fakir's surprise; but, instead of being pleased at her obedience to his wishes, he was angry, and said: "If you killed your husband, you will one day kill me also."

So he drove her from his presence, and she returned to her own home, where, taking her husband's head upon her knee, she set up a great weeping and lamentation, which attracted all her neighbours and brought them together.

"My husband had only just returned from a journey, bringing money; and see, thieves have stolen his money, and murdered him during the night."

Her neighbours believed this, and prepared to carry her husband to the burning ghât, for he was a Hindoo. While they did this, the woman declared that she would follow, and perform the sacred rite of suttee, or being burnt upon her husband's funeral pyre.

Although impressed by her supposed devotion to her husband, her friends wrote to Bickermanji, and begged him to prevent her.

Bickermanji knew all that had really happened, and meant to show his own wisdom and the woman's crime, also to punish her as he thought best. So he promptly forbade the suttee.

The widow then wrote to Rajah Bickermanji's stepmother, a very clever woman, and asked her to intercede, that she might die with her husband. Then his stepmother said: "My son, allow this suttee to take place, and within eight days I will give you my reasons."

This aroused the curiosity of his nature, and, much against his will, he consented; so the woman had her own way.

He waited impatiently for the eight days to be over, and then went to his stepmother, who ordered a dooly, and, taking with her a goat, asked him to accompany her to the nearest temple. Arrived there, she asked him to stand at the door, and left the goat outside.

"If, when I come to the door, I say 'kill,' you are to kill the goat, but if not, stand where you are," were the old woman's instructions as she went to make her offering of fruit and flowers and sweets.

Soon she returned, and said: "Kill," so Bickermanji cut off the head of the goat. "Sit upon the head, my son."

And he did as he was told, but no sooner had he done so, when the head rose up into the air with him, away through space for hundreds of miles, until he came to a wall which surrounded a space twelve miles square. In this was a garden and beautiful house; and after wandering some little time, Bickermanji found water and food, a comfortable couch to lie upon, and a hookah, or native pipe, to smoke, but not a human being was anywhere to be seen. This puzzled him, but as he was both hungry and tired, he made a good meal, smoked his hookah, and laid down to sleep.

"If I sleep, I sleep, if I die, I die; a man can but die once."

Now the place belonged to a purree, or winged fairy being, who used to come to it during the night, and remain away all day. The servants came an hour or two beforehand just to see everything was comfortable; and when they found Bickermanji lying fast asleep, they wished to kill him, but an old woman interceded on his behalf, so they let him alone until the purree came.

Bickermanji was greatly surprised to see a strange winged being standing before him, and expected immediate death; but the Strange One spoke kindly, and begged him not to fear, but to make the place his home for as long as he liked.

Each day passed by quietly, and in the pleasures and ease of his present existence, Bickermanji soon forgot his kingdom, his wife, and his children.

Before going away one morning the purree said: "There are four rooms in this house which you must never open; I will point them out to you, but, for the rest, you may use them as you will."

This request at once excited Bickermanji's old spirit of curiosity; and, as soon as he found himself alone, he went quickly to the door of the first room and opened it.

Within stood a horse, which turned gladly towards him, and said: "I have not seen the light of day, or had an hour's freedom, ever since I was given to the fairy by Rajah Sudra. If you will take me out, I will show you all the world, and even the secret place where the fairies dance."

Bickermanji was delighted, and immediately led out the horse, which he saddled, mounted, and rode for a wonderful and delightful ride.

In the evening the fairy, or purree, again warned him against opening any of the four forbidden doors; but the very next day he opened the second one, and there found a large elephant chained up.

The elephant complained bitterly of its fate, and begged Bickermanji to pity it, and take it out, which, if he did, it would in return show him much that was wonderful in the world; so Bickermanji again had a very interesting day.

On the morning following he opened the third door and found a camel inside. It too took him to all sorts of new and interesting places which were the haunts of fairy beings.

Now only one door was left, and Bickermanji determined to open that also; and when he did, he beheld a donkey, standing inside. The donkey complained just as the other animals had done, and begged for its release; but as Bickermanji mounted it for his usual ride, he found himself back in his old kingdom.

"My back aches," said the donkey; "leave me a while to rest, and go you, in the meantime, to the nearest bazaar for food. When you return you will find me here."

But when Bickermanji returned there was no donkey to be seen; so he tore his hair and wept bitterly, asking all the passers-by if any of them had seen his ghuddee, or donkey.

Many of the inhabitants of the town recognised him, and said: "Our Rajah has come back, and is asking for his ghuddee," which, in Hindustanee, means "throne" as well as "donkey."

At last his stepmother heard of his return, and sent for him. He told her that he would give anything to be able to return to the place from which the donkey had brought him.

"Was it not I who sent you there," she replied, "and could not I send you back again? What are you willing to do in order to return? Are you willing to slay your own son to go?"

"Yes, I would even do that."

"Well, come with me as before to the temple, only, instead of a goat, take your son with you, and a sword. When I say 'kill' you must kill, but not before."

So the three went to the temple, and the stepmother stood in the doorway and cried "Kill"; but before the Rajah could raise his sword she rushed forward and seized it.

"Stop! do not kill your son. Do you remember the suttee, and how you judged her and wished to punish her for killing her husband on account of a friend, and now you would kill your own son for the sake of pleasure! All that has happened has been done to teach you a lesson; go you to your Palace, and there reign with greater wisdom than before."

Moral.--"Judge not, that ye be not judged."

THE BRAHMIN'S DAUGHTER

A certain Brahmin's wife had no affection for her seven stepdaughters, and persuaded their father to get rid of them. So he invited the girls to come with him on a visit to their grandmother, but on the way he slipped away quietly and left them eating plums in the jungle.

After a while they found themselves all alone, and as night fell were very frightened, and hid themselves in the hollow of a large tree. Here a tiger found them and ate six, leaving only the youngest sister alive.

She hid in the tree for several days, and at last a Rajah found her, and asked how she had got there. Then she told him the whole story, and he felt pity for her and married her.

But she often wondered what had become of her father, and whether he was alive or dead; and when she remembered the fate of her sisters, she secretly made up her mind to be revenged on her stepmother.

Then she called a crow, and asked it if it would go to her former home with a letter from her. In the letter she told her father of her sisters' fate and of her own good fortune.

The crow carried the news to her father, and, greatly surprised, he read the contents of his daughter's letter to his wife.

The woman was mercenary as well as cruel, and advised him to lose no time in visiting her, and bringing back all the money he could secure.

So the Brahmin went and spent eight or nine days in the Palace.

As he was preparing to return home, the girl called him, and gave him a box containing a snake, a scorpion, and a wasp; and as it was securely locked, he had no suspicion of its contents.

"Take this," she said, "and give it with the key to my mother; let her be alone in her room when she receives it, so that she may enjoy my gifts by herself."

Then she gave him another box full of clothes and jewels and money for himself.

After a long journey, the Brahmin arrived at his home, and said to his wife: "This box is for me, and this one for you; keep it carefully, and open it when you are alone; here is the key." So saying he went out, shut the door, and put on the chain.

Soon the woman began to cry: "I'm bitten, I'm bitten!" but he mistook it for "I've eaten, I've eaten!" meaning that he should come and share the feast. So he replied: "I've had my share, you eat what is your own share."

When he opened the door, he found her dead, so he packed up his things and returned to his daughter, and lived happily ever after.

ABUL HUSSAIN

There was a man called Abul Hussain who was once very rich, but had been so foolish in entertaining all his friends that he lost all his money, and became very poor.

He and his old mother lived together, and sometimes, when he felt lonely, he would walk out and call in two or three men, any passing strangers whom he chanced to meet, and ask them to come in and have a talk and smoke with him. When they left his house, he never expected to see them again.

On one occasion he accosted a man dressed in plain clothes, who, with two others, was taking a stroll, and said: "Friend, come in and have a chat with me."

The man--who was really the King--with his two followers, went in; and, after they had talked some time and made merry over wine, Abul said: "I should like to exchange places with the King for just one day."

"Why?" asked the King.

"Because the Priest who prays in the Musjid here, and his four friends, are very wicked men, and I should like to have them killed."

The King, while talking, took out some powder which had the effect of putting a person to sleep, and secretly dropped it into the wine Abul was drinking. Shortly afterwards Abul fell into a deep sleep.

The King then said to his servants: "Remove this man and take him to my Palace; change his clothes for some of mine, place him in my bed, and, until I give further orders, recognise him as your King, and let him use as much money as he likes."

The servants did as he told them, took up the sleeping man and put him to bed in the King's Palace.

Early next morning the servants came to wake Abul, and said: "Will Your Majesty rise this morning?"

Abul rubbed his eyes and looked, and behold, he was in a King's room and the King's servant was addressing him! He saw his clothes, and wondered who he was, and what had happened: then he turned to the man and said: "Who am I?"

The man replied: "You are our King."

"Am I?" returned the puzzled Abul, and, rising, he heard strains of music, and knew that the band was playing, as it always does on the awaking of a King in the morning.

He washed and dressed and went with his Vizier to hold court. While there, he said to his courtiers: "There is a man living in a certain house, and his name is Abul, I want you to take to his mother a bag of a thousand rupees. Also go to the Musjid; catch the old Priest, give him one hundred stripes, put him and his four friends on donkeys, and drive them out of the city."

All day Abul reigned as King, but when night came, the servants, who had been instructed what to do by the real King, once more put sleeping powder into his wine, and while he slept removed him to his own home, and put him into his own bed again.

When he awoke there in the morning he called to his servants, but no one answered, except his old mother, who came and stood beside him.

"Why do you call your servants?" she asked.

"Because I am a King," he replied. "Who are you?"

"I am your mother, my son, and think you must be dreaming. If the King hears about this he will be so angry that perhaps he will have you killed. You are only the son of a poor man; and do not vex the King, for he has been very good, and sent us a present of a thousand rupees yesterday."

Abul, however, would not listen, but kept on insisting that he was King, so at last the King had him locked up in prison, declaring that he must be mad. There he was kept until he ceased to say that he was King, and then he was released.

On his return home, he once more invited some strange men, and, as before, the King was amongst them, and again surreptitiously put the sleeping powder into Abul's wine, and caused him to be removed and put into his Palace on his bed while he was unconscious.

Next morning on waking Abul felt sure that it must be a dream this time, and he kept rubbing his eyes and asking the servants who he was. The servants replied: "Why, you are our King."

Abul was more than puzzled, and, pointing to his arms, which still bore the marks of bruises from stripes received in prison, said: "If I am really the King, why have I these bruises? I have been put in prison, and these are the marks where I was beaten."

But the servant said: "Your Majesty is dreaming; you are a King, and a very great King."

On this Abul got up, and hearing the strains of music, he was so delighted at his lucky position that he began to dance about the room, while the King, who was peeping from a doorway, stood and laughed so much that he was almost choked. At last, being unable to restrain himself longer, he called out: "O Abul, do you wish to kill me with laughter?"

On this Abul discovered that the King had been playing a practical joke on him, and he said: "O King, you have given me much misery."

"Have I?" said the King. "Well, as much misery as I have given you, so much pleasure shall you now have;" and he gave him a present of heaps of money and a beautiful wife, sending him away with the assurance that he would never be poor any more.

Very soon Abul ran through all his money, and, hoping to get some more from the King, planned with his wife to pay another visit to the Palace.

Then he went to the King and, crying and wringing his hands, said: "O King, my wife is dead."

The King, much shocked and grieved, gave him a than [5] of cloth and a thousand rupees, and told him to go and bury his wife.

In the meantime his wife had gone to the Queen's apartments, and there, throwing herself on her face, she wept and said: "O Queen, my husband is dead, and I am most unhappy!"

The Queen, deeply grieved, gave her a thousand rupees and a than of cloth, saying: "Go, bury thy dead."

Abul and his wife were now most happy, and set to work to make themselves clothes with the new cloth they had received.

Now it happened that day that the King went to see his Queen, and, finding her in tears, enquired the cause of her grief.

"Abul's wife has just been to say Abul is dead."

"No," said the King; "you mean that Abul has just been to say that his wife is dead."

"No," replied the Queen, "Abul is dead."

"Not at all," returned the King; "Abul's wife is dead," and they fell out and quarrelled about it.

Then the King said: "Well, we'll make a contract: if I am wrong, then I'll give you a present of a garden."

And the Queen said: "Very well; and if I am mistaken, I will give you my picture gallery."

On this the King and Queen together went with a number of followers to the house of Abul.

When Abul and his wife saw them coming they were so frightened that they did not know what to do, and, having no time to run away, they both got under the cloth they were sewing, and lay quite still as though they were dead.

The King and Queen coming up were surprised indeed to find that both were really dead; but the King, remembering his promise to his wife, said: "Now, if we only could find out who died first."

On this Abul crept out quietly, fell at the King's feet, and cried: "Your Majesty, I died first."

At the same time his wife crawled out and prostrated herself at the Queen's feet, saying: "Your Majesty, I died first."

All the followers began to laugh, and so did the King, who asked Abul why he had done this thing. Abul then confessed how he had squandered all the money which the King had given, and, not knowing how to get any more, had determined to do what he had done.

The King, pleased at Abul's cleverness, gave him houses and money, so that he never again suffered any want.

THE MAGICIAN AND THE MERCHANT

One day a merchant, going for a stroll, came across a date tree; reaching up his hand, he plucked a date and threw the stone away.

Now, near the spot where it fell there lived a wicked magician, who suddenly appeared before the frightened merchant, and told him he was going to kill him.

"You have put out my son's eye," said he, "by throwing the stone into it, and now you shall pay for the deed with your life."

The poor merchant begged and implored for mercy, but the magician refused. At last the merchant asked that he might be allowed to go home and settle his affairs. and distribute his goods amongst his family, after which he promised to return.

To this the magician consented, so the merchant departed, and spent a last happy year with his wife and children. Then, after dividing his goods amongst them, bade them farewell, and with many tears, left them, that he might return to the magician and fulfil his promise.

Arrived at the spot, he saw an old man, who asked him why he came to such a place. "A wicked magician lives here," said he, "who kills people, or else changes them into animals or birds."

"Alas!" cried the unfortunate merchant, "that is just what my fate will be, for I have come in fulfilment of a promise to return after a year and be killed."

Just then two other old men came, and, while the four were conversing together, the magician, sword in hand, suddenly appeared and rushed at the merchant to kill him.

On this the old man interceded, and said: "O Magician, if what I have suffered be more than you have suffered in the loss of your son's eye, then indeed give this man double punishment: let me, I beg you, tell my story."

"Say on," said the magician.

"Do you see this deer?" said the old man; "it is my wife. I was once married to a wife, but after a time I wearied of her, and married another wife, who presented me with a son. I took both the woman and her child to my first wife, and asked her to feed and take care of them; but she, being jealous, changed my wife into a cow, and my son into a calf. After a year I returned and enquired after my wife and child. My first wife said: 'Your wife is dead, and for the last two days your child has been missing.'

"Now it happened at that time that I wanted to offer a sacrifice, and, asking for a suitable offering, my second wife was brought to me. She fell at my feet, and looked so unhappy that I could not kill her, and sent her away. Then my wife grew very angry, and insisted upon the sacrifice. At last I consented, and the poor cow was killed. [6]

"Then I asked for another offering, and the calf was brought. It too looked at me with tearful eyes, and I had not the heart to kill it, but gave it to a cowherd, and told him to bring it back to me after a year. He kept it with his other cattle, and one day a young girl who saw it began to laugh and cry. On this the cowherd asked her reason for such conduct, and she replied: 'That calf is not really what it appears to be, but is a young man, and his mother was the cow who was sacrificed some time ago.'

"Then the cowherd ran to me and told me the girl's story, and I went at once to her to ask whether it was really true, and if she could not restore my son to his original shape again. 'Yes,' she replied, 'on two conditions. One, that I may be allowed to marry your son, and the other, that I may do as I please with your first wife.'

"To this I consented, so she took some water and sprinkled it upon the calf, which at once turned into my son again. With some of the same water she sprinkled my wife, who there and then turned into a deer.

"Now, I might easily kill her if I liked; but, knowing that she is my wife, I take her with me wherever I go."

Then the second old man said: "Hear my story. I was one of three brothers. My father died, and we divided his clothes and money amongst us. My eldest brother and I became merchants, but my third brother ran away, wasted and squandered his money, and became a beggar. He returned home, and begged us to forgive him, which we did, and gave him one thousand rupees to buy merchandise.

"We three then went across the seas to buy goods. On the seashore I saw a very beautiful woman, and asked her if she would come across the sea with me. She consented; but when my brothers saw her they grew jealous, and, as soon as the ship sailed, they took her and threw her into the sea, and me after her. But she, being an Enchanted Being, rose to the surface of the water unhurt, and, taking me up, carried me to a place of safety on the seashore.

"Then she said she was very angry with my brothers and meant to kill them both. I begged in vain that she would spare them, so at last she consented to punish them in some other way instead of killing them.

"When next I visited at the house of my brothers, two dogs fell at my feet and cowered before me. Then the woman told me that they were my brothers, and would remain dogs for twelve years, after which time they would resume their natural shapes."

The third old man began to tell his story. "I had the misfortune to marry a witch, who, soon after my marriage, turned me into a dog. I fled from the house, and ate such scraps of food as were thrown away by the store-keepers in the market place.

"One day one of the men there took me home, but his daughter turned away her head each time she looked at me. At last her father enquired her reason for doing this, and she replied: 'Father, that is not a dog, but a man whose wife is a witch, and it is she who has changed him into a dog. I will restore him again to his former shape.' So she sprinkled water upon me, and I forthwith regained the shape of a man. I then asked her if I might not punish my wife, and she gave me some water and told me to go and sprinkle it upon the wicked witch.

"I did this, and she became a donkey! Yet I keep her, and take care of her, and pray you, even as we had mercy, to so have mercy upon this man."

So the magician forgave the man, and let him go.

THE SNAKE AND THE FROG

A Rajah had two sons. The eldest ascended the throne after his father's death, but fearing lest his brother might interfere with him, he ordered him to be killed.

The poor boy, hearing of this order, quietly left the house and escaped into the jungles, where he saw a snake with a frog in its mouth which it was trying to swallow.

As the young Rajah approached, he heard the frog say: "Oh, if God would only send some one to rescue me from the snake, how thankful I should be."

The Rajah, full of pity, threw a stone at the snake, and it immediately released the frog, which hopped away.

The snake remained still, dazed by the hurt received by the stone. Now, the Rajah felt sorry for it, and thought to himself: "I have taken away its natural food;" so, quickly cutting off a piece of his own flesh, he threw it to the snake, saying: "Here, take this instead."

The snake took it home, and when its wife saw it, she said: "This is very good flesh; where did you get it?"

The snake told her what had happened, and she said: "Go back to that man and reward him for what he has done."

Then the snake assumed the form of a man, and, going back to the Rajah, said: "I will be your servant, if you will take me."

The Rajah agreed, and his new servant followed him.

The frog, meantime, had also gone home and told his wife of the narrow escape he had from the snake, and how a man had saved him from its very jaws.

"Go back," said she, "and serve him, to prove your gratitude."

So he also took the form of a man and offered himself as a servant to the Rajah. "Come," said he, "and we three will live together."

Then they entered a city belonging to a great King, and the three of them offered to work for him.

"But," said the young Rajah, "I will only work on condition that you pay me a thousand rupees a day."

To this the King agreed, and they were employed by him.

The young Rajah gave his own two followers one hundred rupees a day; and, after putting aside one hundred for his own requirements, distributed the rest in charity.

One day the King went to take a bath in the tank, or pond, and while bathing, his ring slipped off and fell into the water.

He therefore called the young Rajah and said to him: "Go and get my ring which is in that tank."

This made the youth very sad, "For," thought he, "how am I to get a ring from the bottom of a tank?"

But his servant who had once been a frog begged him not to be sad, and said: "I will get it for you."

So, quickly taking his old form, he dived into the water and restored the ring to his master, who took it to the King.

Some time after this the King's daughter was bitten by a snake, and in great danger of death. "Make my child well," demanded the King of the young Rajah. But this was hard to do, and the youth became sadder than ever.

"Do not despair," said his servant who had once been a snake, "but put me into the room where the child is, for I understand the treatment for snake-bite."

As soon as this was done he sucked out all the poison, and the child recovered.

This so delighted the King that he called the young Rajah and offered him his daughter in marriage as a reward.

So the marriage took place, and they lived happily ever afterwards.

THE BARBER AND THE THIEF

A thief entered the house of a barber, and, carefully making bundles of all he could lay hands upon, was about to take them away when the barber spied him; and, quickly getting out of bed, sat down at the door, thus cutting off the way of escape for the thief, who waited in vain for him to move.

The barber sat smoking his hookah, [7] and every now and then refreshed himself by drinking water, occasionally spitting at what looked like a bundle of rags on the floor; but which was in reality the thief. [8] After a while the barber woke his wife by flinging a little water on her. She woke up very angry, and scolded him roundly.

"What!" said the barber, "you mind a little water being thrown at you, while this man"--pointing to the thief--"has no objection to being spat upon!"

Then the thief found he had been discovered, and implored forgiveness.

Thinking he had already suffered sufficient indignities, they forgave him and let him go.

THE STORY OF PURAN

There was once a shoemaker who had a vegetable garden in which grew a bed of brinjals (or egg plant). Unknown to him, a fairy used sometimes to come and walk there; and one day, while passing the brinjal bushes, a thorn on them caught one of her wings and broke it, so that she was unable to fly, and had to remain where she was.

Next time the shoemaker visited his garden he saw a beautiful woman in it; and, not knowing that she was a fairy, asked her to tell him her name, and how she came there.

Her only reply was: "I am cold: give me a covering, I pray you."

Then he invited her to take shelter in his hut, and gave her a lowie, or warm covering, saying: "Take this and stay as long as you like, and be my daughter."

The shoemaker had a kind heart, and was very good to his adopted child, whom he named "Loonar Chumari."

Now a Rajah, by name Suliman, sometimes visited the shoemaker's shop; and when he saw the fairy he fell in love with her, and begged for her hand in marriage.

The shoemaker consented, and after a time the marriage took place; but Suliman had another wife at his Palace, and a son whose name was Puran: and he was most anxious to find out whether, when he grew up, this son would make a good ruler, so he sent for a Brahmin and enquired.

"Yes," declared the Brahmin, "he will be a good ruler, but you must keep him locked up for twelve years in an underground room."

This was done, and at the time when Suliman met the fairy, the twelve years had nearly been completed; but the boy refused to remain even a week longer, for he was weary of being locked up for so long. Even his own mother could not influence him in the matter, and so he was released.

Now Puran was a very comely youth, and when he made his obeisance to his new stepmother, she was greatly impressed with his handsome face, and thought to herself: "Had I not been in such a hurry I might have married him instead of Suliman."

The thought vexed her so much that she made up her mind to get Puran out of her sight by having him killed. She told Suliman that his boy was wanting in respect towards her, and deserving of death.

On hearing this, Suliman had a bowl of boiling oil prepared, and, calling his son, said: "My son, if this be indeed true about you, plunge your hand into this boiling oil: if you are innocent no harm will come to you."

Puran, without a sign of fear, did as his father bid him, and plunged in his hand, taking it out without a mark.

Then Suliman turned to his wife and said: "See, the oil does not burn him."

But she replied angrily: "Never mind, I am not content, and shall not rest day or night until you have his eyes put out, and both his hands and his feet cut off, after which you must have him flung into a pit."

Suliman, who was completely under the power of the fairy, at last consented to this, and gave the order; but Puran's own mother pleaded so earnestly that her boy's eyes might be spared, that the servants felt sorry for her; and, substituting the eyes of an animal, they left the young man's eyes untouched.

Then Puran was thrown into a pit and there left.

A Guru, or Priest, who lived near that place used to send his followers daily to bring food and water for him, and one of them, mistaking the dry pit for a well, let down his chattie for water. Whereupon Puran, whose hands and feet had been restored by the Almighty, caught hold of the chattie and would not let it go.

The Guru called out: "Let go, or I will bring my book of incantations and crush you into dust."

"Try," replied a voice from the bottom of the pit, "for I too can bring my books and crush you to dust."

The Guru was frightened, and, returning to the head Guru, his master, told him what had happened.

Then the old Guru said: "It must be Puran; I will go and see." So, taking with him a ball of raw cotton, he called out at the top of the pit: "Puran, is that you? If so, and you are an innocent man, I will let down a thread of raw cotton, and you will be able to climb up by it, for it will not break if used by the innocent."

"Let it down," replied Puran, and he climbed up safely.

The Guru looked at him as he stood up, and then quietly returned to his own home.

There he met all his pupils or followers, who are called "Cheelas," and sent them out to bring stores. There were one hundred and thirty-five Cheelas, and before they left he warned them, saying: "Go everywhere except to that magic country where those women live who practise witchcraft."

But the men were curious, and, in spite of the warning, went to the witches' country.

The witches saw them coming, and laughed gleefully. "Let us play a trick on these young Gurus," they said, "and turn them all into young bulls."

This they did, and, leading the creatures to their husbands, said: "See what fine bulls we have brought in exchange for two and a half pounds of flour."

The husbands were very pleased, and kept the bulls to carry loads.

Meanwhile the old Guru waited for his followers, but as none of them appeared, he sought the aid of his books and discovered what had happened.

Then he pronounced his incantations and dried up all the water in the country, with the exception of one well, near which he sat.

The witches soon found that they would die of thirst, so they came to the old man's well, but they barely had time to put down their chatties before he turned the lot of them into donkeys and let them graze.

Very soon the witches were missed by their husbands, who came to the old Guru and asked if he could give any news.

"How can I tell," said he, "when one hundred and thirty-five of my own Gurus are lost and I cannot find them."

"But you can recall them, our Father," said the men.

"That is what I mean to do;" and so saying, the Guru took out his books and began to read. While he did this, they saw in the distance a herd of one hundred and thirty-five bulls approaching, and each one carried a load of wood or hay.

They stood still before the old Guru, who then restored them to their former shapes.

Then the witches' husbands were amazed, and said: "O Guru! can you not call our wives also?"

"Call them yourselves, my friends, as you have seen me call my men."

But the men knew nothing of either witchcraft or incantations, so they besought the Guru to help them.

At last he agreed, and asked for a thick, strong stick, which he gave into the hands of one of his Cheelas, and said: "Go knock each of those donkeys a blow on the head with this."

The Cheela did as he was told, and the donkeys resumed the shapes of women, all but five old ones which the Guru said must remain donkeys by way of warning.

Then the Guru sent his followers forth as before, and coming to the pit where Puran had been found, they saw a dry stick standing near it. "This will do for fire," said they; but when they touched it a feeble voice was heard.

So they reported the matter to the old Guru, and when he touched the stick it said, "Guru Jee." On this he recognised Puran, who for years had waited beside the well.

"Why did you not go home, my son?"

"Because you did not tell me," said Puran, "so I waited here for your orders."

Then the Guru held him tenderly and washed the mud off him, and in many days he grew strong again.

"Now go home to your parents," said the Guru.

But Puran said: "No, I will remain with you."

Thus in time he became a very highly respected Guru.

TABARISTAN

In the country called Tabaristan there lived a rich Rajah, who gave a feast and invited a number of guests.

Amongst the guests came a stranger who partook of the good things distributed. The Rajah, on seeing him, enquired who he was.

"I am a stranger," said he, "but am willing to serve you, as I have come from a very distant country."

The Rajah said he would keep him as a sort of Chowkidar, to guard his house at night. So all night long the stranger used to pace up and down the Palace grounds keeping watch.

One night the Rajah came out and, seeing him pacing up and down, asked him who he was.

"Why, I am he whom you engaged as a servant."

Hardly had he spoken when a loud cry echoed through the grounds, and a voice said: "I am going on, I am going on!"

"What is that?" asked the Rajah.

"I do not know," said the man, "but I hear it every night."

"Go and find out," returned the Rajah. So the man turned to do his bidding.

Now the Rajah was very curious, and, quickly wrapping himself in his coat, quietly followed his servant.

Outside the garden gate sat a figure covered and clothed in loose white garments.

On approaching it the servant said: "Who are you?"

"I am Time," replied the figure, "and hold the Rajah's life, which is now nearly over."

"Cannot anything be done to spare it?" asked the man.

"Yes, it can be spared by the sacrifice of another, and that one must be your son."

"I will give not only my son's life, but the lives of all my family and my own," replied the man; "but, if you want only my son, you may have him."

Then he went and told his son, who said: "Gladly will I give my life, for what is it in comparison with the life of a Rajah? Come, father, take me soon that I may die."

Then the man led his son to the veiled figure, and said: "Here is my son; he is willing to die."

Taking a knife, he was about to plunge it into his child when the figure cried: "Enough! You have proved that you were willing not only to give your son, but your whole family, and the Almighty is pleased to spare the Rajah's life for another seven years."

Now the Rajah, who had heard every word of the interview, quickly returned to the spot where he had first heard the voice, and there awaited his servant's return.

"Well, what was the sound?" asked he, when he saw him.

"A man and a woman had quarrelled," replied the servant, "but I have managed to reconcile them, and they have promised not to quarrel for seven years."

Then the Rajah left him, and ordered him to appear at his Court the following day.

Next day, when the Court was full, the Rajah addressed all his people, and said: "I am resolved to give up my throne and all I possess to this man; for last night, unknown to me, he was willing to give up, not only his son's life but his own, and the lives of all his family, in order to save mine, and for my sake."

The poor servant was deeply touched and astonished at the turn matters had so unexpectedly taken, but the Rajah was firm in his resolve, and left his throne and his kingdom.

The servant then became Rajah, and ruled wisely and well to the end of his days.

THE PAINTED JACKAL

A jackal had the habit of visiting the kitchens of several people at night and eating whatever it could find.

One day, in visiting the house of a dyer, it put its head into a deep vessel containing blue dye, and, finding the mixture was not good to eat, tried to get its head out again, but could not do so for some time. When at last it managed to escape, its head was dyed a beautiful dark blue colour.

He ran away into the jungles, glad to escape, and unconscious of his strange appearance; but the other animals in the jungle thought some new animal had come, and were quite charmed, so that they created him their King.

They divided up all the wild creatures, and put their new King next to the jackals, so that when they cried out at nights, he cried too, and nobody found out that he was only a jackal.

But one day some young jackals made him angry, so he turned them out and ordered the wolves and foxes to remain nearest to him.

That night, when he began to cry and howl, it was at once discovered that he was only a jackal; so all the animals ran at him, bit him, and turned him out.

THE ENCHANTED BIRD, MUSIC, AND STREAM

There was once a Prince who used to amuse himself by dressing as a poor man, and going about amongst his subjects without their finding out who he was.

In this way he found out all that they did, and how they lived.

Once, while walking through a gully, he saw three sisters, and overheard their conversation.

One said: "If I could marry even a servant of the Prince, how happy I should be! I should eat sweets and all sorts of nice things all day long."

The other sister said: "I'd rather marry his cook, for then I should get still better things."

But the third sister said: "I'd like best to marry the Prince himself, for then I'd get the best things of all to eat."

The Prince went home, and next day, while holding court, gave an order that these three sisters should be brought to him.

The order was immediately carried out, and, as the three trembling girls stood before him, they wondered much why they had been summoned.

"Now," said he, "tell me what you three were talking about last night?"

Terribly alarmed, the eldest confessed that she had said she would like to be the wife of one of the servants, so as to get nice things to eat. The second said she had wished to be the wife of his cook.

The third sister hesitated, and then said timidly that she had dared to say she would like best to be the wife of the Prince himself.

On this the Prince said: "You may have your wishes."

He then ordered the one to be married to one of his servants, and the other to his cook; but the third he married himself.

Some time after this, a son was born; but his wife's two sisters, who had begged to be present upon the occasion, and who were very jealous of their sister's position, quietly removed the baby, and put a dog's puppy in its place. The baby they put into a box and flung into the river.

Now the Prince's gardener found the box and opened it; and, when he saw what it contained, he was overjoyed, and took the child to his wife, telling her that God had at last given her a son which he would keep and bring up as his own son.

Meantime, the Prince was very angry indeed, but forgave his wife at the request of her friends.

Some time after this another son was born, which the sisters changed for a kitten, and, putting the babe into a box, threw it into the river as before; but again the gardener found the child and carried him to his wife.

Yet a third child was born to the Princess, a little girl, which the two sisters changed for a rat. As before, they placed the child in a box and threw it into the river; and yet a third time did the gardener rescue the babe, and take it to grow up with its two brothers, his adopted boys.

By this time the Prince was very angry with his wife, and turned her out of his house.

The gardener and his wife, who had loved their adopted children very dearly, died when the boys were about eight or nine years of age.

So the boys begged the Prince to give them land of their own, on which to build or cultivate; and he, remembering how fond his gardener had always been of them, granted their request, so they lived there very happily with their little sister.

The brothers often went out hunting, and on one occasion, when they were out and their sister alone at home, a very old woman came to her and begged for some water. She willingly gave it, and then asked the old woman very kindly if she would not come in and rest. "Come and see my house," she said, "and tell me what you think of it."

The old woman said: "You have everything very nice, but there are three things which you have not got."

"And what are those?"

"You have no bird, no music, and no stream of water," replied the old woman; "without these your house is nothing."

"Where am I to get them?"

"You must go to the West."

So saying, she went away and left the girl very sad, for she wished for the three things without which her home was incomplete.

On the return of her brothers, they asked her why she looked so sad; and she told them of the old woman's visit, and what she had said.

"If that is all," cried the eldest brother, "I will go and bring you all three things."

The sister at first cried very much, and begged of him not to go, but at last she consented; and as he bade her good-bye, he gave her a string of beads, saying: "As long as I am well, these beads will be separate from each other; but should any misfortune overtake me, or I should die, the beads will be no longer separate, but will be joined together."

Then he mounted his horse and rode away.

On the way he met an old Fakir. This old man's face was covered with hair, so that he could not see, and he had a very long grey beard.

The boy looked at him, and said: "Let me shave you, and you will be able to see better."

So the Fakir allowed himself to be shaved, after which he asked the youth where he was going, and on hearing, he advised him not to go. "For," said he, "many have already gone on that quest, but have never returned."

Yet the boy persisted. So the old Fakir gave him a ball, and said: "Keep throwing this before you as you go. Stop where the ball stops, and heed no sounds or interruptions on the way."

The ball went in the direction of a high mountain, and the boy followed; but in the mountain there were strange hissing sounds and voices all around, which kept shouting to him, and asking who he was and where he came from.

He paid no heed to these, until suddenly there came a great clap of thunder, followed by an earthquake. This so startled the boy that he looked round, and in a moment was turned into stone.

The poor little sister at home, discovering that she could no longer separate her beads, was grieved indeed, knowing that some harm had befallen her brother; and she wept bitterly.

On this her second brother said he would go and seek him, and also find the three things she required for her house.

His sister implored him not to leave her, for he was all she had left; but he was determined, so she was obliged to reluctantly consent to his going.

Before leaving he gave her a flower, and said: "Sister, as long as this flower keeps fresh, you will know that I am alive and well; but if it should close or fade, you may feel sure that I too am dead."

Then he mounted his steed and started on his journey.

Soon he met the old Fakir, who warned him as he had warned his brother, saying: "My son, so many have gone on this quest and have lost their lives; your own brother has lost his life, and yet you wish to go. Turn back, I advise you."

"No," said the boy, "I am determined to find my brother, and also the bird, music, and stream of water."

Then the Fakir gave him also a ball of string, with the same directions which he had given his brother; and he continued on his journey.