Chapter VI: Part 6

Then he met a man carrying a parrot, and called out as before, 'How much for the parrot?' And when he heard it was only a golden sovereign he was delighted, saying once more that was a bargain indeed.

He had only one pound left. Yet even then, when he met a Jôgi carrying a serpent, he cried out at once, 'O Jôgi, how much for the snake?'

'Not a farthing less than a golden sovereign,' quoth the Jôgi.

'And very little, too!' cried the spendthrift, handing over his last coin.

So there he was, possessed of a cat, a dog, a parrot, and a snake, but not a single penny in his pocket. However, he set to work bravely to earn his living; but the hard labour wearied him dreadfully, for being a Prince he was not used to it. Now when his serpent saw this, it pitied its kind master, and said, 'Prince, if you are not afraid to come to my father's house, he will perhaps give you something for saving me from the Jôgi.' The spendthrift Prince was not a bit afraid of anything, so he and the serpent set off together, but when they arrived at the house, the snake bade the Prince wait outside, while it went in alone and prepared the snake-father for a visitor. When the snake-father heard what the serpent had to say, he was much pleased, declaring he would reward the Prince by giving him anything he desired. So the serpent went out to fetch the Prince into the snake-father's presence, and when doing so, it whispered in his ear, 'My father will give you anything you desire. Remember only to ask for his little ring as a keepsake.'

This rather astonished the Prince, who naturally thought a ring would be of little use to a man who was half starving; however, he did as he was bid, and when the snake-father asked him what he desired, he replied, 'Thank you; I have everything, and want for nothing.'

Then the snake-father asked him once more what he would take as a reward, but again he answered that he wanted nothing, having all that heart could desire.

Nevertheless, when the snake-father asked him the third time, he replied, 'Since you wish me to take something, let it be the ring you wear on your finger, as a keepsake.'

Then the snake-father frowned, and looked displeased, saying, 'Were it not for my promise, I would have turned you into ashes on the spot, for daring to ask for my greatest treasure. But as I have said, it must be. Take the ring, and go!'

So the Prince, taking the ring, set off homewards with his servant the serpent, to whom he said regretfully, 'This old ring is a mistake; I have only made the snake-father angry by asking for it, and much good it will do me! It would have been wiser to say a sack of gold.'

'Not so, my Prince!' replied the serpent; 'that ring is a wonderful ring! You have only to make a clean square place on the ground, plaster it over according to the custom of holy places, put the ring in the centre, sprinkle it with buttermilk, and then whatever you wish for will be granted immediately.'

Vastly delighted at possessing so great a treasure as this magic ring, the Prince went on his way rejoicing, but by and by, as he trudged along the road, he began to feel hungry, and thought he would put his ring to the test. So, making a holy place, he put the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, I want some sweetmeats for dinner!'

No sooner had he uttered the words, than a dishful of most delicious sweets appeared on the holy place. These he ate, and then set off to a city he saw in the distance.

As he entered the gate a proclamation was being made that any one who would build a palace of gold, with golden stairs, in the middle of the sea, in the course of one night, should have half the kingdom, and the King's daughter in marriage; but if he failed, instant death should be his portion.

Hearing this, the spendthrift Prince went at once to the Court and declared his readiness to fulfil the conditions.

The King was much surprised at his temerity, and bade him consider well what he was doing, telling him that many princes had tried to perform the task before, and showing him a necklace of their heads, in hopes that the dreadful sight might deter him from his purpose.

But the Prince merely replied that he was not afraid, and that he was certain he should succeed.

Whereupon the King ordered him to build the palace that very night, and setting a guard over him, bade the sentries be careful the young boaster did not run away. Now when evening came, the Prince lay down calmly to sleep, whereat the guard whispered amongst themselves that he must be a madman to fling away his life so uselessly. Nevertheless, with the first streak of dawn the Prince arose, and making a holy place, laid the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, I want a palace of gold, with golden stairs, in the midst of the sea!'

And lo! there in the sea it stood, all glittering in the sunshine. Seeing this, the guard ran to tell the King, who could scarcely believe his eyes when he and all his Court came to the spot and beheld the golden palace.

Nevertheless, as the Prince had fulfilled his promise, the King performed his, and gave his daughter in marriage, and half his kingdom, to the spendthrift.

'I don't want your kingdom, or your daughter either!' said the Prince. 'I will take the palace I have built in the sea as my reward.'

So he went to dwell there, but when they sent the Princess to him, he relented, seeing her beauty; and so they were married and lived very happily together.

Now, when the Prince went out a-hunting he took his dog with him, but he left the cat and the parrot in the palace, to amuse the Princess; nevertheless, one day, when he returned, he found her very sad and sorrowful, and when he begged her to tell him what was the matter, she said, 'O dear Prince, I wish to be turned into gold by the power of the magic ring by which you built this glittering golden palace.'

So, to please her, he made a holy place, put the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, turn my wife into gold!'

No sooner had he said the words than his wish was accomplished, and his wife became a golden Princess.

Now, when the golden Princess was washing her beautiful golden hair one day, two long glittering hairs came out in the comb. She looked at them, regretting that there were no poor people near to whom she might have given the golden strands; then, determining they should not be lost, she made a cup of green leaves, and curling the hairs inside it, set it afloat upon the sea.

As luck would have it, after drifting hither and thither, it reached a distant shore where a washerman was at work. The poor man, seeing the wonderful gold hairs, took them to the King, hoping for a reward; and the King in his turn showed them to his son, who was so much struck by the sight that he lay down on a dirty old bed, to mark his extreme grief and despair, and, refusing to eat or drink anything, swore he must marry the owner of the beautiful golden hair, or die.

The King, greatly distressed at his son's state, cast about how he should find the golden-haired Princess, and after calling his ministers and nobles to help him, came to the conclusion that it would be best to employ a wise woman. So he called the wisest woman in the land to him, and she promised to find the Princess, on condition of the King, in his turn, promising to give her anything she desired as a reward.

Then the wise woman caused a golden barge to be made, and in the barge a silken cradle swinging from silken ropes. When all was ready, she set off in the direction whence the leafy cup had come, taking with her four boatmen, whom she trained carefully always to stop rowing when she put up her finger, and go on as long as she kept it down.

After a long while they came in sight of the golden palace, which the wise woman guessed at once must belong to the golden Princess; so, putting up her finger, the boatmen ceased rowing, and the wise woman, stepping out of the boat, went swiftly into the palace. There she saw the golden Princess, sitting on a golden throne; and going up to her, she laid her hands upon the Princess's head, as is the custom when relatives visit each other; afterwards she kissed her and petted her, saying, 'Dearest niece! do you not know me? I am your aunt.'

But the Princess at first drew back, and said she had never seen or heard of such an aunt. Then the wise woman explained how she had left home years before, and made up such a cunning, plausible story that the Princess, who was only too glad to get a companion, really believed what she said, and invited her to stop a few days in the palace.

Now, as they sat talking together, the wise woman asked the Princess if she did not find it dull alone in the palace in the midst of the sea, and inquired how they managed to live there without servants, and how the Prince her husband came and went. Then the Princess told her about the wonderful ring the Prince wore day and night, and how by its help they had everything heart could desire.

On this, the pretended aunt looked very grave, and suggested the terrible plight in which the Princess would be left should the Prince come to harm while away from her. She spoke so earnestly that the Princess became quite alarmed, and the same evening, when her husband returned, she said to him, 'Husband, I wish you would give me the ring to keep while you are away a-hunting, for if you were to come to harm, what would become of me alone in this sea-girt palace?'

So, next morning, when the Prince went a-hunting, he left the magical ring in his wife's keeping.

As soon as the wicked wise woman knew that the ring was really in the possession of the Princess, she persuaded her to go down the golden stairs to the sea, and look at the golden boat with the silken cradle; so, by coaxing words and cunning arts the golden Princess was inveigled into the boat, in order to have a tiny sail on the sea; but no sooner was her prize safe in the silken cradle, than the pretended aunt turned down her finger, and the boatmen immediately began to row swiftly away.

Soon the Princess begged to be taken back, but the wise woman only laughed, and answered all the poor girl's tears and prayers with slaps and harsh words. At last they arrived at the royal city, where great rejoicings arose when the news was noised abroad that the wise woman had returned with the golden bride for the love-sick Prince. Nevertheless, despite all entreaties, the Princess refused even to look at the Prince for six months; if in that time, she said, her husband did not claim her, she might think of marriage, but until then she would not hear of it.

To this the Prince agreed, seeing that six months was not a very long time to wait; besides, he knew that even should her husband or any other guardian turn up, nothing was easier than to kill them, and so get rid both of them and their claims.

Meanwhile, the spendthrift Prince having returned from hunting, called out as usual to his wife on reaching the golden stairs, but received no answer; then, entering the palace, he found no one there save the parrot, which flew towards him and said, 'O master, the Princess's aunt came here, and has carried her off in a golden boat.'

Hearing this, the poor Prince fell to the ground in a fit, and would not be consoled. At last, however, he recovered a little, when the parrot, to comfort him, bade him wait there while it flew away over the sea to gather news of the lost bride.

So the faithful parrot flew from land to land, from city to city, from house to house, until it saw the glitter of the Princess's golden hair. Then it fluttered down beside her and bidding her be of good courage, for it had come to help her, asked for the magic ring. Whereupon the golden Princess wept more than ever, for she knew the wise woman kept the ring in her mouth day and night, and that none could take it from her.

However, when the parrot consulted the cat, which had accompanied the faithful bird, the crafty creature declared nothing could be easier.

'All the Princess has to do,' said the cat, 'is to ask the wise woman to give her rice for supper tonight, and instead of eating it all, she must scatter some in front of the rat-hole in her room. The rest is my business, and yours.'

So that night the Princess had rice for supper, and instead of eating it all, she scattered some before the rat-hole. Then she went to bed, and slept soundly, and the wise woman snored beside her. By and by, when all was quiet, the rats came out to eat up the rice, when the cat, with one bound, pounced on the one which had the longest tail, and carrying it to where the wise woman lay snoring with her mouth open, thrust the tail up her nose. She woke with a most terrific sneeze, and the ring flew out of her mouth on to the floor. Before she could turn, the parrot seized it in his beak, and, without pausing a moment, flew back with it to his master the spendthrift Prince, who had nothing to do but make a holy place, lay the ring in the centre, sprinkle it with buttermilk, and say, 'O ring, I want my wife!' and there she was, as beautiful as ever, and overjoyed at seeing the golden palace and her dear husband once more.

THE JACKAL AND THE PEA-HEN

Once upon a time a Jackal and a Pea-hen swore eternal friendship. Every day they had their meals together, and spent hours in pleasant conversation.

Now, one day, the Pea-hen had juicy plums for dinner, and the Jackal, for his part, had as juicy a young kid; so they enjoyed themselves immensely. But when the feast was over, the Pea-hen rose gravely, and, after scratching up the ground, carefully sowed all the plum-stones in a row.

'It is my custom to do so when I eat plums,' she said, with quite an aggravating air of complacent virtue; 'my mother, good creature, brought me up in excellent habits, and with her dying breath bade me never be wasteful. Now these stones will grow into trees, the fruit of which, even if I do not live to see the day, will afford a meal to many a hungry peacock.'

These words made the Jackal feel rather mean, so he answered loftily, 'Exactly so! I always plant my bones for the same reason.' And he carefully dug up a piece of ground, and sowed the bones of the kid at intervals.

After this, the pair used to come every day and look at their gardens; by and by the plum-stones shot into tender green stems, but the bones made never a sign.

'Bones do take a long time germinating,' remarked the Jackal, pretending to be quite at his ease; 'I have known them remain unchanged in the ground for months.'

'My dear sir,' answered the Pea-hen, with ill-concealed irony, '_I_ have known them remain so for _years_!'

So time passed on, and every day, when they visited the garden, the self-complacent Pea-hen became more and more sarcastic, the Jackal more and more savage.

At last the plum-trees blossomed and bore fruit, and the Pea-hen sat down to a perfect feast of ripe juicy plums.

'He! he!' sniggered she to the Jackal, who, having been unsuccessful in hunting that day, stood by dinnerless, hungry, and in consequence very cross; 'what a time those old bones of yours do take in coming up! But when they do, my! what a crop you'll have!'

The Jackal was bursting with rage, but she wouldn't take warning, and went on: 'Poor dear! you do look hungry! There seems some chance of your starving before harvest. What a pity it is you can't eat plums in the meantime!'

'If I can't eat plums, I can eat the plum-eater!' quoth the Jackal; and with that he pounced on the Pea-hen, and gobbled her up.

_Moral_--It is never safe to be wiser than one's friends.

THE GRAIN OF CORN

Once upon a time a farmer's wife was winnowing corn, when a crow, flying past, swooped off with a grain from the winnowing basket and perched on a tree close by to eat it. The farmer's wife, greatly enraged, flung a clod at the bird with so good an aim that the crow fell to the ground, dropping the grain of corn, which rolled into a crack in the tree. The farmer's wife, seeing the crow fall, ran up to it, and seizing it by the tail, cried, 'Give me back my grain of corn, or I will kill you!'

The wretched bird, in fear of death, promised to do so, but, lo and behold! when he came to search for the grain, it had rolled so far into the crack that neither by beak nor claw could he reach it.

So he flew off to a woodman, and said--

'Man! man! cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the woodman refused to cut the tree; so the crow flew on to the King's palace, and said--

'King! king! kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn.
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the King refused to kill the man; so the crow flew on to the Queen, and said--

'Queen! Queen! coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the Queen refused to coax the King; so the crow flew on till he met a snake, and said--

'Snake! snake! bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the snake refused to bite the Queen; so the crow flew on till he met a stick, and said--

'Stick! stick! beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the stick refused to beat the snake; so the crow flew on till he saw a fire, and said--

'Fire! fire! burn stick;
Stick won't beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the fire refused to burn the stick; so the crow flew on till he met some water, and said--

'Water! water! quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the water refused to quench the fire; so the crow flew on till he met an ox, and said--

'Ox! ox! drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the ox refused to drink the water; so the crow flew on till he met a rope, and said--

'Rope! rope! bind ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the rope wouldn't bind the ox; so the crow flew on till he met a mouse, and said--

'Mouse! mouse! gnaw rope;
Rope won't bind ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the mouse wouldn't gnaw the rope; so the crow flew on until he met a cat, and said--

'Cat! cat! catch mouse;
Mouse won't gnaw rope;
Rope won't bind ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat snake;
Snake won't bite Queen;
Queen won't coax King;
King won't kill man;
Man won't cut tree;
And I can't get the grain of corn
To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

The moment the cat heard the name of mouse, she was after it; for the world will come to an end before a cat will leave a mouse alone.

'So the cat began to catch the mouse,
The mouse began to gnaw the rope,
The rope began to bind the ox,
The ox began to drink the water,
The water began to quench the fire,
The fire began to burn the stick,
The stick began to beat the snake,
The snake began to bite the Queen,
The Queen began to coax the King,
The King began to kill the man,
The man began to cut the tree;
So the crow got the grain of corn,
And saved his life from the farmer's wife!'

THE FARMER AND THE MONEY-LENDER

There was once a farmer who suffered much at the hands of a money-lender. Good harvests, or bad, the farmer was always poor, the moneylender rich. At last, when he hadn't a farthing left, the farmer went to the moneylender's house, and said, 'You can't squeeze water from a stone, and as you have nothing to get by me now, you might tell me the secret of becoming rich.'

'My friend,' returned the money-lender piously, 'riches come from Ram--ask _him_.'

'Thank you, I will!' replied the simple farmer; so he prepared three girdle-cakes to last him on the journey, and set out to find Ram.

First he met a Brâhman, and to him he gave a cake, asking him to point out the road to Ram; but the Brâhman only took the cake and went on his way without a word. Next the farmer met a Jôgi or devotee, and to him he gave a cake, without receiving any help in return. At last, he came upon a poor man sitting under a tree, and finding out he was hungry, the kindly farmer gave him his last cake, and sitting down to rest beside him, entered into conversation.

'And where are you going?' asked the poor man at length.

'Oh, I have a long journey before me, for I am going to find Ram!' replied the farmer. 'I don't suppose you could tell me which way to go?'

'Perhaps I can,' said the poor man, smiling, 'for _I_ am Ram! What do you want of me?'

Then the farmer told the whole story, and Ram, taking pity on him, gave him a conch shell, and showed him how to blow it in a particular way, saying, 'Remember! whatever you wish for, you have only to blow the conch that way, and your wish will be fulfilled. Only have a care of that money-lender, for even magic is not proof against their wiles!'

The farmer went back to his village rejoicing. In fact the money-lender noticed his high spirits at once, and said to himself, 'Some good fortune must have befallen the stupid fellow, to make him hold his head so jauntily.' Therefore he went over to the simple farmer's house, and congratulated him on his good fortune, in such cunning words, pretending to have heard all about it, that before long the farmer found himself telling the whole story--all except the secret of blowing the conch, for, with all his simplicity, the farmer was not quite such a fool as to tell that.

Nevertheless, the money-lender determined to have the conch by hook or by crook, and as he was villain enough not to stick at trifles, he waited for a favourable opportunity and stole it.

But, after nearly bursting himself with blowing the thing in every conceivable way, he was obliged to give up the secret as a bad job. However, being determined to succeed, he went back to the farmer, and said, 'Now, my friend! I've got your conch, but I can't use it; you haven't got it, so it's clear you can't use it either. The matter is at a standstill unless we make a bargain. Now, I promise to give you back your conch, and never to interfere with your using it, on one condition, which is this,--whatever you get from it, I am to get double.'

'Never!' cried the farmer; 'that would be the old business all over again!'

'Not at all!' replied the wily money-lender; 'you will have your share! Now, don't be a dog in the manger, for if _you_ get all you want, what can it matter to you if _I_ am rich or poor?'

At last, though it went sorely against the grain to be of any benefit to a money-lender, the farmer was forced to yield, and from that time, no matter what he gained by the power of the conch, the money-lender gained double. And the knowledge that this was so preyed upon the farmer's mind day and night, until he had no satisfaction out of anything he did get.

At last there came a very dry season,--so dry that the farmer's crops withered for want of rain. Then he blew his conch, and wished for a well to water them, and, lo! there was the well. _But the money-lender had two!_--two beautiful new wells! This was too much for any farmer to stand; and our friend brooded over it, and brooded over it, till at last a bright idea came into his head. He seized the conch, blew it loudly, and cried out, 'O Ram, I wish to be blind of one eye!' And so he was, in a twinkling, but the money-lender, of course, was blind of both eyes, and in trying to steer his way between the two new wells, he fell into one and was drowned.

Now this true story shows that a farmer once got the better of a money-lender; but only by losing one of his eyes!

THE LORD OF DEATH

Once upon a time there was a road, and every one who travelled along it died. Some folk said they were killed by a snake, others said by a scorpion, but certain it is they all died.

Now a very old man was travelling along the road, and being tired, sat down on a stone to rest; when suddenly, close beside him, he saw a scorpion as big as a cock, which, while he looked at it, changed into a horrible snake. He was wonderstruck, and as the creature glided away, he determined to follow it at a little distance, and so find out what it really was.

So the snake sped on day and night, and behind it followed the old man like a shadow. Once it went into an inn, and killed several travellers; another time it slid into the King's house and killed him. Then it crept up the waterspout to the Queen's palace, and killed the King's youngest daughter. So it passed on, and wherever it went the sound of weeping and wailing arose, and the old man followed it, silent as a shadow.

Suddenly the road became a broad, deep, swift river, on the banks of which sat some poor travellers who longed to cross over, but had no money to pay the ferry. Then the snake changed into a handsome buffalo, with a brass necklace and bells round its neck, and stood by the brink of the stream. When the poor travellers saw this, they said, 'This beast is going to swim to its home across the river; let us get on its back, and hold on to its tail, so that we too shall get over the stream.'

Then they climbed on its back and held by its tail, and the buffalo swam away with them bravely; but when it reached the middle, it began to kick, until they tumbled off, or let go, and were all drowned.

When the old man, who had crossed the river in a boat, reached the other side, the buffalo had disappeared, and in its stead stood a beautiful ox. Seeing this handsome creature wandering about, a peasant, struck with covetousness, lured it to his home. It was very gentle, suffering itself to be tied up with the other cattle; but in the dead of night it changed into a snake, bit all the flocks and herds, and then, creeping into the house, killed all the sleeping folk, and crept away. But behind it the old man still followed, as silent as a shadow.

Presently they came to another river, where the snake changed itself into the likeness of a beautiful young girl, fair to see, and covered with costly jewels. After a while, two brothers, soldiers, came by, and as they approached the girl, she began to weep bitterly.

'What is the matter?' asked the brothers; 'and why do you, so young and beautiful, sit by the river alone?'

Then the snake-girl answered, 'My husband was even now taking me home; and going down to the stream to look for the ferry-boat, fell to washing his face, when he slipped in, and was drowned. So I have neither husband nor relations!'

'Do not fear!' cried the elder of the two brothers, who had become enamoured of her beauty; 'come with me, and I will marry you.'

'On one condition,' answered the girl: 'you must never ask me to do any household work; and no matter for what I ask, you must give it me.'

'I will obey you like a slave!' promised the young man.

'Then go at once to the well, and fetch me a cup of water. Your brother can stay with me,' quoth the girl.

But when the elder brother had gone, the snake-girl turned to the younger, saying, 'Fly with me, for I love you! My promise to your brother was a trick to get him away!'

'Not so!' returned the young man; 'you are his promised wife, and I look on you as my sister.'

On this the girl became angry, weeping and wailing, until the elder brother returned, when she called out, 'O husband, what a villain is here! Your brother asked me to fly with him, and leave you!'

Then bitter wrath at this treachery arose in the elder brother's heart, so that he drew his sword and challenged the younger to battle. Then they fought all day long, until by evening they both lay dead upon the field, and then the girl took the form of a snake once more, and behind it followed the old man silent as a shadow. But at last it changed into the likeness of an old white-bearded man, and when he who had followed so long saw one like himself, he took courage, and laying hold of the white beard, asked, 'Who and what are you?'

Then the old man smiled and answered, 'Some call me the Lord of Death, because I go about bringing death to the world.'

'Give me death!' pleaded the other, 'for I have followed you far, silent as a shadow, and I am aweary.'

But the Lord of Death shook his head, saying, 'Not so! I only give to those whose years are full, and you have sixty years of life to come!'

Then the old white-bearded man vanished, but whether he really was the Lord of Death, or a devil, who can tell?

THE WRESTLERS

A STORY OF HEROES

There was, once upon a time, long ago, a wrestler living in a far country, who, hearing there was a mighty man in India, determined to have a fall with him; so, tying up ten thousand pounds weight of flour in his blanket, he put the bundle on his head and set off jauntily. Towards evening he came to a little pond in the middle of the desert, and sat down to eat his dinner. First, he stooped down and took a good long drink of the water; then, emptying his flour into the remainder of the pond, stirred it into good thick brose, off which he made a hearty meal, and lying down under a tree, soon fell fast asleep.

Now, for many years an elephant had drunk daily at the pond, and, coming as usual that evening for its draught, was surprised to find nothing but a little mud and flour at the bottom.

'What shall I do?' it said to itself, 'for there is no more water to be found for twenty miles!'

Going away disconsolate, it espied the wrestler sleeping placidly under the tree, and at once made sure he was the author of the mischief; so, galloping up to the sleeping man, it stamped on his head in a furious rage, determined to crush him.

But, to his astonishment, the wrestler only stirred a little, and said sleepily, 'What is the matter? what is the matter? If you want to shampoo my head, why the plague don't you do it properly? What's worth doing at all is worth doing well; so put a little of your weight into it, my friend!'

The elephant stared, and left off stamping; but, nothing daunted, seized the wrestler round the waist with its trunk, intending to heave him up and dash him to pieces on the ground. 'Ho! ho! my little friend!--that is your plan, is it?' quoth the wrestler, with a yawn; and catching hold of the elephant's tail, and swinging the monster over his shoulder, he continued his journey jauntily.

By and by he reached his destination, and, standing outside the Indian wrestler's house, cried out, 'Ho! my friend! Come out and try a fall!'

'My husband's not at home to-day,' answered the wrestler's wife from inside; 'he has gone into the wood to cut pea-sticks.'

'Well, well! when he returns give him this, with my compliments, and tell him the owner has come from far to challenge him.'

So saying, he chucked the elephant clean over the courtyard wall.

'Oh, mamma! mamma!' cried a treble voice from within, 'I declare that nasty man has thrown a mouse over the wall into my lap! What shall I do to him?'

'Never mind, little daughter!' answered the wrestler's wife; 'papa will teach him better manners. Take the grass broom and sweep the mouse away.'

Then there was a sound of sweeping, and immediately the dead elephant came flying over the wall.

'Ahem!' thought the wrestler outside, 'if the little daughter can do this, the father will be a worthy foe!'

So he set off to the wood to meet the Indian wrestler, whom he soon saw coming along the road, dragging a hundred and sixty carts laden with brushwood.

'Now we shall see!' quoth the stranger, with a wink; and stealing behind the carts, he laid hold of the last, and began to pull.

'That's a deep rut!' thought the Indian wrestler, and pulled a little harder. So it went on for an hour, but not an inch one way or the other did the carts budge.

'I believe there is some one hanging on behind!' quoth the Indian wrestler at last, and walked back to see who it was. Whereupon the stranger, coming to meet him, said, 'We seem pretty well matched; let us have a fall together.'

'With all my heart!' answered the other, 'but not here alone in the wilds; it is no fun fighting without applause.'

'But I haven't time to wait!' said the stranger; 'I have to be off at once, so it must be here or nowhere.'

Just then an old woman came hurrying by with big strides.

'Here's an audience!' cried the wrestler, and called aloud, 'Mother! mother! stop and see fair play!'

'I can't, my sons, I can't!' she replied, 'for my daughter is going to steal my camels, and I am off to stop her; but if you like, you can jump on to the palm of my hand, and wrestle there as I go along.'

So the wrestlers jumped on to the old woman's palm, and wrestled away as she strode over hill and dale.

Now when the old woman's daughter saw her mother, with the wrestlers wrestling on her hand, she said to herself, 'Here she comes, with the soldiers she spoke about! It is time for me to be off!'

So she picked up the hundred and sixty camels, tied them in her blanket, and swinging it over her shoulder, set off at a run.

But one of the camels put its head out of the blanket and began groaning and hubble-bubble-ubbling, after the manner of camels; so, to quiet it, the girl tore down a tree or two, and stuffed them into the bundle also. On this, the farmer to whom the trees belonged came running up, and calling, 'Stop thief! stop thief!'

'Thief, indeed!' quoth the girl angrily; and with that she bundled farmer, fields, crops, oxen, house, and all into the blanket.

Soon she came to a town, and being hungry, asked a pastry-cook to give her some sweets; but he refused, so she caught up the town bodily; and so on with everything she met, until her blanket was quite full.

At last she came to a big water-melon, and being thirsty, she sat down to eat it; and afterwards, feeling sleepy, she determined to rest a while. But the camels in her bundle made such a hubble-bubble-ubbling that they disturbed her, so she just packed everything into the lower half of the water-melon rind, and popping on the upper half as a lid, she rolled herself in the blanket and used the melon as a pillow.

Now, while she slept, a big flood arose, and carried off the water-melon, which, after floating down stream ever so far, stuck on a mud-bank. The top fell off, and out hopped the camels, the trees, the farmer, the oxen, the house, the town, and all the other things, until there was quite a new world on the mud-bank in the middle of the river.

THE LEGEND OF GWÂSHBRÂRI, THE GLACIER-HEARTED QUEEN

Once upon a time, ever so long ago, when this old world was young, and everything was very different from what it is nowadays, the mighty Westarwân was King of all the mountains. High above all other hills he reared his lofty head, so lofty, that when the summer clouds closed in upon his broad shoulders he was alone under the blue sky. And thus, being so far above the world, and so lonely in his dignity, he became proud, and even when the mists cleared away, leaving the fair new world stretched smiling at his feet, he never turned his eyes upon it, but gazed day and night upon the sun and stars.

Now Harâmukh, and Nangâ Parbat, and all the other hills that stood in a vast circle round great Westarwân, as courtiers waiting on their king, grew vexed because he treated them as nought; and when the summer cloud that soared above their heads hung on his shoulders like a royal robe, they would say bitter, wrathful words of spite and envy.

Only the beautiful Gwâshbrâri, cold and glistening amid her glaciers, would keep silence. Self-satisfied, serene, her beauty was enough for her; others might rise farther through the mists, but there was none so fair as she in all the land.

Yet once, when the cloud-veil wrapped Westarwân from sight, and the wrath rose loud and fierce, she flashed a contemptuous smile upon the rest, bidding them hold their peace.

'What need to wrangle?' she said, in calm superiority;' great Westarwân is proud; but though the stars seem to crown his head, his feet are of the earth, earthy. He is made of the same stuff as we are; there is more of it, that is all.'

'The more reason to resent his pride!' retorted the grumblers. 'Who made him a King over us?'

Gwâshbrâri smiled an evil smile. 'O fools! poor fools and blind! giving him a majesty he has not in my sight. I tell you mighty Westarwân, for all his star-crowned loftiness, is no King to me. Tis I who am his Queen!'

Then the mighty hills laughed aloud, for Gwâshbrâri was the lowliest of them all.

'Wait and see!' answered the cold passionless voice. 'Before to-morrow's sunrise great Westarwân shall be my slave!'

Once more the mighty hills echoed with scornful laughter, yet the icy-hearted beauty took no heed. Lovely, serene, she smiled on all through the long summer's day; only once or twice from her snowy sides would rise a white puff of smoke, showing where some avalanche had swept the sure-footed ibex to destruction.

But with the setting sun a rosy radiance fell over the whole world. Then Gwâshbrâri's pale face flushed into life, her chill beauty glowed into passion. Trans-* figured, glorified, she shone on the fast-darkening horizon like a star.

And mighty Westarwân, noting the rosy radiance in the east, turned his proud eyes towards it; and, lo! the perfection of her beauty smote upon his senses with a sharp, wistful wonder that such loveliness could be--that such worthiness could exist in the world which he despised. The setting sun sank lower, reflecting a ruddier glow on Gwâshbrâri's face; it seemed as if she blushed beneath the great King's gaze. A mighty longing filled his soul, bursting from his lips in one passionate cry--'O Gwâshbrâri! kiss me, or I die!'

The sound echoed through the valleys, while the startled peaks stood round expectant.

Beneath her borrowed blush Gwâshbrâri smiled triumphant, as she answered back, 'How can that be, great King, and I so lowly? Even if I _would_, how could I reach your star-crowned head?--I who on tip-toe cannot touch your cloud-robed shoulder?'

Yet again the passionate cry rang out--'I love you! kiss me, or I die!'

Then the glacier-hearted beauty whispered soft and low, the sweet music of her voice weaving a magical spell round the great Westarwân--You love me? Know you not that those who love must stoop? Bend your proud head to my lips, and seek the kiss I cannot choose but give!'

Slowly, surely, as one under a charm, the monarch of the mountains stooped-nearer and nearer to her radiant beauty, forgetful of all else in earth or sky.

The sun set. The rosy blush faded from Gwâshbrâri's fair false face, leaving it cold as ice, pitiless as death. The stars began to gleam in the pale heavens, but the King lay at Gwâshbrâri's feet, discrowned for ever!

And that is why great Westarwân stretches his long length across the valley of Kashmîr, resting his once lofty head upon the glacier heart of Queen Gwâshbrâri.

And every night the star crown hangs in the heavens as of yore.

THE BARBER'S CLEVER WIFE

Once upon a time there lived a barber, who was such a poor silly creature that he couldn't even ply his trade decently, but snipped off his customers' ears instead of their hair, and cut their throats instead of shaving them. So of course he grew poorer every day, till at last he found himself with nothing left in his house but his wife and his razor, both of whom were as sharp as sharp could be.

For his wife was an exceedingly clever person, who was continually rating her husband for his stupidity; and when she saw they hadn't a farthing left, she fell as usual to scolding.

But the barber took it very calmly. 'What is the use of making such a fuss, my dear?' said he; 'you've told me all this before, and I quite agree with you. I never _did_ work, I never _could_ work, and I never _will_ work. That is the fact!'

'Then you must beg!' returned his wife, 'for _I_ will not starve to please you! Go to the palace, and beg something of the King. There is a wedding feast going on, and he is sure to give alms to the poor.'

'Very well, my dear!' said the barber submissively. He was rather afraid of his clever wife, so he did as he was bid, and going to the palace, begged of the King to give him something.

'Something?' asked the King; 'what thing?'

Now the barber's wife had not mentioned anything in particular, and the barber was far too addle-pated to think of anything by himself, so he answered cautiously, 'Oh, something!'

'Will a piece of land do?' said the King.

Whereupon the lazy barber, glad to be helped out of the difficulty, remarked that perhaps a piece of land would do as well as anything else.

Then the King ordered a piece of waste, outside the city, should be given to the barber, who went home quite satisfied.

'Well! what did you get?' asked the clever wife, who was waiting impatiently for his return. 'Give it me quick, that I may go and buy bread!'

And you may imagine how she scolded when she found he had only got a piece of waste land.

'But land is land!' remonstrated the barber; 'it can't run away, so we must always have something now!'

'Was there ever such a dunderhead?' raged the clever wife.' What good is ground unless we can till it? and where are we to get bullocks and ploughs?'

But being, as we have said, an exceedingly clever person, she set her wits to work, and soon thought of a plan whereby to make the best of a bad bargain.

She took her husband with her, and set off to the piece of waste land; then, bidding her husband imitate her, she began walking about the field, and peering anxiously into the ground. But when any-* body came that way, she would sit down, and pretend to be doing nothing at all.

Now it so happened that seven thieves were hiding in a thicket hard by, and they watched the barber and his wife all day, until they became convinced something mysterious was going on. So at sunset they sent one of their number to try and find out what it was.

'Well, the fact is,' said the barber's wife, after beating about the bush for some-time, and with many injunctions to strict secrecy, 'this field belonged to my grandfather, who buried five pots full of gold in it, and we were just trying to discover the exact spot before beginning to dig. You won't tell any one, will you?'

The thief promised he wouldn't, of course, but the moment the barber and his wife went home, he called his companions, and telling them of the hidden treasure, set them to work. All night long they dug and delved, till the field looked as if it had been ploughed seven times over, and they were as tired as tired could be; but never a gold piece, nor a silver piece, nor a farthing did they find, so when dawn came they went away disgusted.

The barber's wife, when she found the field so beautifully ploughed, laughed heartily at the success of her stratagem, and going to the corn-dealer's shop, borrowed some rice to sow in the field. This the corn-dealer willingly gave her, for he reckoned he would get it back threefold at harvest time. And so he did, for never was there such a crop!--the barber's wife paid her debts, kept enough for the house, and sold the rest for a great crock of gold pieces.

Now, when the thieves saw this, they were very angry indeed, and going to the barber's house, said, 'Give us our share of the harvest, for we tilled the ground, as you very well know.'

'I told you there was gold in the ground,' laughed the barber's wife, 'but you didn't find it. I have, and there's a crock full of it in the house, only you rascals shall never have a farthing of it!'

'Very well!' said the thieves; 'look out for yourself to-night. If you won't give us our share we'll take it!'

So that night one of the thieves hid himself in the house, intending to open the door to his comrades when the housefolk were asleep; but the barber's wife saw him with the corner of her eye, and determined to lead him a dance. Therefore, when her husband, who was in a dreadful state of alarm, asked her what she had done with the gold pieces, she replied, 'Put them where no one will find them,--under the sweetmeats, in the crock that stands in the niche by the door.'

The thief chuckled at hearing this, and after waiting till all was quiet, he crept out, and feeling about for the crock, made off with it, whispering to his comrades that he had got the prize. Fearing pursuit, they fled to a thicket, where they sat down to divide the spoil.

'She said there were sweetmeats on the top,' said the thief; 'I will divide them first, and then we can eat them, for it is hungry work, this waiting and watching.'

So he divided what he thought were the sweetmeats as well as he could in the dark. Now in reality the crock was full of all sorts of horrible things that the barber's wife had put there on purpose, and so when the thieves crammed its contents into their mouths, you may imagine what faces they made and how they vowed revenge.

But when they returned next day to threaten and repeat their claim to a share of the crop, the barber's wife only laughed at them.

'Have a care!' they cried; 'twice you have fooled us--once by making us dig all night, and next by feeding us on filth and breaking our caste. It will be our turn to-night!'

Then another thief hid himself in the house, but the barber's wife saw him with half an eye, and when her husband asked, 'What have you done with the gold, my dear? I hope you haven't put it under the pillow?' she answered, 'Don't be alarmed; it is out of the house. I have hung it in the branches of the _nîm_ tree outside. No one will think of looking for it there!'

The hidden thief chuckled, and when the house-folk were asleep he slipped out and told his companions.

'Sure enough, there it is!' cried the captain of the band, peering up into the branches. 'One of you go up and fetch it down.' Now what he saw was really a hornets' nest, full of great big brown and yellow hornets.

So one of the thieves climbed up the tree; but when he came close to the nest, and was just reaching up to take hold of it, a hornet flew out and stung him on the thigh. He immediately clapped his hand to the spot.

'Oh, you thief!' cried out the rest from below, 'you're pocketing the gold pieces, are you? Oh! shabby! shabby!'--For you see it was very dark, and when the poor man clapped his hand to the place where he had been stung, they thought he was putting his hand in his pocket.

'I assure you I'm not doing anything of the kind!' retorted the thief; 'but there is something that bites in this tree!'

Just at that moment another hornet stung him on the breast, and he clapped his hand there.

'Fie! fie for shame! We saw you do it that time!' cried the rest. 'Just you stop that at once, or we will make you!'

So they sent up another thief, but he fared no better, for by this time the hornets were thoroughly roused, and they stung the poor man all over, so that he kept clapping his hands here, there, and everywhere.