Chapter VII: Part 7

"It was not you that succeeded," returned the old woman, "but Heaven and your faithful lions that preserved your life."

During the night, as the lad was sleeping, the old woman poured the Water of Life into another vase, and filled the jug with common water, which the lad in the morning took to his stepmother, who drinking it said:

"O, happy! I am healed."

The following day the lad again went hunting. The witch said to the giant:

"Can you not devise some means to destroy my stepson? By Heaven, I will destroy you this time if you do not tell me how to destroy him."

"Your stepson is brave," answered the giant, "he is a unique hero, and no one can kill him but yourself."

"How! how!" exclaimed the witch with great joy, "tell me and I will do it."

"Do you not remember the three red hairs among his black hairs on his head? As soon as they are picked, your son dies."

On the following day the witch said to the lad:

"Come, son, lay your head in my lap and take a nap."

The lad did so and soon slept. The witch immediately took hold of the three red hairs and picked them out. A spasm or two, and the hero died.

"Now, giant," said the witch, "take that sword and chop this corpse into small pieces."

"Not I," answered the giant, "my hand will not be lifted to chop such a hero."

"You coward!" exclaimed the witch, and taking the sword she chopped the corpse into small pieces, put these into a sack, and threw them over the garden wall. One of the little fingers, however, fell into the garden.

The lions learned that their master was killed, and that his chopped body had been put into the bag. They immediately took hold of the bag and carried it to the old woman, the hostess of the hero. Opening the bag, she took out the body, and putting every part in its proper place made a whole; only the little finger was missing. She explained to the lions what was missing, and they at once went, and smelling their master's finger in the garden, found it and brought it to the old woman, who put it in its proper place. Now she brought the milk of the Fairy Lioness, which she had secretly preserved, and poured it over the body. Immediately all the broken bones, muscles and sinews came together, and all the members being united, the body became as sound and delicate as that of a newborn babe. Then she brought the Melon of Life, and put it before his nostrils. As soon as the lad smelt it, he sneezed seven times. Then she poured the Water of Life down his throat. At once the lad opened his eyes, and jumped up, saying:

"O, what a sound sleep was this that overpowered my senses!"

"Sleep!" exclaimed the kind woman. "Yes, a sleep out of which you would never have awaked had not Providence preserved you." And she told him what had happened.

"Now, my good hostess," said the lad, "you have done me a very great kindness--a kindness that I can never reward. May Heaven reward you!"

He brought her from his treasures a horseload of gold and a horseload of silver, saying:

"These are for you; spend as much as you like and pray for me as long as you live."

The lad came to his palace and found that his beautiful bride was imprisoned in a dark cellar, where she was left to starve, while the witch, his stepmother, was in an excess of merriment with the giant and half a dozen younglings around her. They were all amazed to see the hero enter, and the giant was about to make his exit through a secret door in the wall when the lad seized hold of him, saying:

"How now, coward, are you running? Stop and solve this puzzle for me; whose are these ugly younglings that are infecting the very air of my palace?"

"They are my children out of yonder woman, your mother," answered the giant.

"Mother! I have no mother," exclaimed the lad. "You increase so soon, do you? Now we are going to have great merriment. Go and bring me from yonder mountain, wood enough to build a large pile."

The giant obeyed, and soon a large pile of wood was built in the courtyard of the palace. The lad struck a flint and lighted the wood. Soon the whole pile was on fire, burning like a furnace.

"Now, giant," said the lad, "take hold of these bastards, and throw them into the fire, one by one."

The giant obeyed, and all the younglings were burned on the pile.

"Bring now yonder witch, and throw her into the fire," ordered the lad. She also shared the fate of the bastard children.

"Now, shall I throw you also?" asked the lad of the giant.

"Hero," exclaimed the giant, "I honor you, I will obey you."

"Well, then," said the lad, "I will not kill you. Come, pass under my sword and swear obedience to me."

The giant kissed the sword, and passing under it became the bondman of the lad.

The lad then released his beautiful wife from the dark prison. They celebrated anew their nuptials for forty days and forty nights, and enjoyed a happy life thereafter.

Thus they attained their wishes. May Heaven grant that you may attain your wishes!

Three apples fell from heaven; one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.

THE TRICKS OF A WOMAN.

Serkis was a simple farmer who prayed every morning before he went to the fields, and every evening after he came from his work. One day his wife said to him:

"Husband, why do you not mention in your prayer that God may preserve you from the tricks of a woman?"

"Tricks of a woman?" exclaimed the man. "I am not such a coward as to be afraid of a woman or her tricks."

"Is that your opinion of a woman?" asked his wife.

"Yes, that is my opinion of a woman," answered Serkis sternly, as he shouldered his farming utensils.

The woman decided to give her husband proof of a woman's power, so she bought some fish, and putting them in her apron, took them to the farm at noon, when she carried her husband's dinner. The farmer went to the bank of a neighboring brook to eat his dinner, when his wife, taking advantage of his absence, buried the fish here and there in the field, and went home. Soon Serkis returned to his ploughing, and as the earth was turned, lo! fish came out of the ground. He picked them up, and in the evening, bringing them home to his wife, told her that he had taken them from the farm and that he believed the Creator had created them in that very place. He then ordered his wife to cook them, and on the following day bring them to the farm for his dinner. On the morrow, the woman cooked the fish, ate them herself, and took to her husband a bowl of pea soup for his dinner.

"Where are the fish?" asked Serkis.

"Fish! what fish?" exclaimed the woman, feigning surprise.

"Why, the fish which I picked from the farm yesterday," said the farmer.

"Are you crazy, husband?" said she, "you have not brought home any fish that I know of."

"What!" exclaimed Serkis, taking hold of the whip, "you have eaten my fish, and do you call me crazy?" and he threatened to beat her.

"Help!" exclaimed the woman, and ran to a neighbor's farm.

Thereupon the ploughmen of the neighborhood came to the rescue of the woman and took hold of Serkis.

"Nay, let me beat her to death," said Serkis; "she has eaten my fish, and now she calls me crazy."

The ploughmen asked the woman what fish he meant.

"Nay, I beseech you," exclaimed the woman, "take hold of him, don't let him go; he will kill me. Woe upon me! he is certainly crazy, he is a lunatic. Ask him where he found the fish he talks of."

"Why, I caught them just here," said Serkis. "I dug them from the ground."

"Alas!" exclaimed the ploughmen; "the woman is right, he has really lost his mind."

And as they bound him with ropes some of the farmers said:

"He of late has been giving signs of this."

"It is a hereditary disease," said some others, "many members of his family have been crazy."

So, treating the poor man as a lunatic, they brought him to his home and bound him to a pillar after whipping him. At night, when everybody else had gone, the woman approached her husband, saying:

"How now, husband? Are you afraid of a woman's tricks or not? This was the least of all."

"For Heaven's sake, wife, untie me," said Serkis in a pitiful voice. "Be sure my first prayer hereafter shall be to be preserved from a woman's tricks."

She released him and thereafter he was wise as respects women.

A WISE WEAVER.

A king was once sitting upon his throne when an embassador from a distant country approached, drew a line around the throne, and sat down without speaking a word. The King did not understand this mystery. He called his ministers. They also did not understand it. It was a disgrace to the King that he did not have a man wise enough to understand the symbolical message of a neighboring sovereign. The King was very angry, and ordered his ministers to solve the riddle themselves, or to find some one in the city to solve it immediately; otherwise he would put them all to death. Thereupon the ministers began to search through the realm for a wise man. After a long quest they came to a certain house, which they entered. There was no one in the first room but a baby sleeping in a cradle. And strange to say, the cradle was rocking without any visible cause. They entered the adjacent room, and lo! there also was a baby sleeping in a cradle, which was rocking, though no one was in the room. They walked out into the back yard, where they saw wheat washed and spread to dry; there was a cane moving to and fro, driving away the sparrows, in order that they might not eat the wheat. The ministers of the King were surprised, and going down into the cellar they found a weaver weaving cloth. As his wife had died soon, after giving birth to twins, he had both to weave for his living and do a housewife's work and nurse his children. He therefore had connected the two cradles and the sparrow driver to his loom and shuttle with cords; and so, in this manner, by virtue of his cleverness he was performing all his duties without much trouble. The ministers thought that this man might solve the King's riddle, and so they told him what had happened. The weaver thought a while and then taking a couple of marbles and a chicken, went with the ministers. Entering the presence of the King, he looked the foreign embassador in the face, and threw before him the marbles. The embassador took from his pocket a handful of grain and spread it on the floor. The weaver put down the chicken, which in a few minutes ate all the grain. Thereupon the embassador put on his sandals and ran away speedily.

"What was all this?" asked the King.

"By drawing the line around the throne," answered the weaver, "the embassador wished to say that their King was coming to besiege us, if we did not humiliate ourselves and pay tribute. To this I answered by dropping marbles, which meant that they were children compared to ourselves and that they would better go and play marbles, rather than to undertake a war which would result in their utter ruin. By spreading the handful of grain he meant that their forces were innumerable. By the chicken which ate all the grain, I meant that a company of ours was enough to destroy a legion of theirs."

The King was pleased with the weaver, and gave him costly presents, but the weaver took only a little to enable him to bring up his beloved twins. The King wanted to make him his prime minister, but the weaver declined, saying:

"Let me continue to be a weaver; only I beg you to remember, that wisdom and understanding are not distributed according to rank and that the common tradesmen are entitled to be treated as humanely as your peers and noblemen."

MIND OR LUCK--WHICH?

Mind and Luck were one day debating.

"It is only by me that a man becomes a man," said Luck.

"No, it is by me," insisted Mind. At last they decided to make a trial upon a villager who was working on a neighboring farm. Luck first approached the man, and lo! the ploughshare unearthed a jug. The farmer stopped, and opening the mouth of the jug saw that it was full of gold coins.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "I shall be a rich man." But soon he changed his mind and said,--"Yes, but how will it be if thieves hear about my wealth, and come and rob me, and upon my resistance, kill me?"

While he was thus musing, he saw the judge passing by, on his way to the village. He at once decided to give the gold to the judge, and himself continue to live his tranquil farmer's life. Accordingly he ran and called the judge to the farm. But before the judge had arrived, Mind had entered the man's brain. He hid the jug and said to the judge:

"Sir, you are a judge, you are a learned man; do tell me, which of these two oxen of mine is the better one?"

The judge was angry and departed scolding the man. Mind also departed, and the farmer began to soliloquize:

"Oh, what a blockhead I am! why did I not give the gold to the judge? Surely he was the best man to have it. What shall I do with these coins? Where shall I keep them?"

He did not work during the rest of the day, but spent his time in useless meditation. In the evening he saw the judge returning from the village. He ran to meet him and begged him to come to his farm for a moment. The judge thought there must be meaning in the man's conduct, and entered the field. By that time Mind had returned to the man's brain, and he said to the judge:

"Sir, you are a learned man; do tell me which is the larger, the lot which I ploughed yesterday or the one I ploughed to-day?"

The judge thought that the man was crazy and departed smiling. Mind also departed from the man, who began to beat his head, saying:

"What a pumpkin-pated fellow I am! Why did I not give the gold to him? Where shall I keep it? What shall I do with it?"

So saying he placed the jug in his lunch-bag, and came home leading the oxen.

"Wife! O wife!" he exclaimed; "lead the oxen to the stable, give them hay, and take the plough in. I will go to the judge and come back."

His wife, a shrewd woman, saw that there was something in the lunch-bag which her husband did not put down. It must be something which she thought she ought to know, so she said to him:

"It is not my business to take care of your oxen. I have hardly time enough to drive and milk the cows, and care for the sheep. You put in your oxen and plough, and go wherever you please."

The man, putting the lunch-bag by the door, began to attend to his oxen. While he was thus occupied, the woman opened the bag, and seeing the jug full of gold, took it out and put a round stone in its place. The man then took the bag to the judge, and placing it before him, said:

"I have brought you this as a present." On opening it they saw that it was a stone. The judge was angry with the man, but thinking that he might after all have a secret, he cast him into prison. He put two spies in his cell to watch the man and report whatever he did or said. The man began to meditate in the jail, motioning with his hands:

"The jug was as big as this, its mouth as wide as this, its belly as large as this, and the gold in it as much as this."

The spies reported to the judge that the man was making certain gestures, but not speaking. The judge called the man and asked what it was he was showing with his hands. Mind entered the man's brain, and he answered:

"I was thinking to myself that you had a head as big as this, a neck as thick as this, a beard as long as this. And I was asking myself whose pate and beard was the larger, yours or our goat's?"

Thereupon the judge was very angry and ordered his men to beat the farmer to death. The thrashing was hardly begun when the man exclaimed:

"Do not beat me, I will tell the truth."

They ceased beating him, and brought him to the judge, who asked him to tell the truth as to what he was measuring in the jail.

"The truth is this," said the man, "that if you continued to beat me I would surely die."

This made the judge laugh, and he ordered the man to be released, being convinced that he was only a lunatic. The man came safely home. Thereupon Mind and Luck shook hands and made friends, saying:

"Luck with Mind, Mind with Luck, can make a man a man."

THE WORLD'S BEAUTY.

A rich merchant of the city of Bagdad had accumulated great wealth and property. He had a wife and a son. One day the merchant fell sick, and felt that he was about to die. On his deathbed he called his son, saying:

"You see, my son, I have accumulated so great wealth that even princes have not as much. I bequeath all to you. Continue my business and enjoy your property, but never go to the city of Tiflis."

Then he called his wife, explained to her the mystery of his riches, and gave her the key of his secret chamber, saying:

"If my son spends all my wealth and becomes poor, then you may tell him my secrets."

The merchant died, and his son, continuing his business, one day took forty camel-loads of merchandise, and set out for the city of Erzerum. In the caravansary, where he deposited his goods in Erzerum, he met two poor men in rags, sighing and beating their breasts.

"What is the matter with you?" asked the young merchant.

"Oh!" exclaimed the two ragamuffins, "It is something that cannot be told."

The lad had great compassion on them, and said:

"Nay, masters, tell me your grief; I am ready to spend all my wealth for your sake."

At last they said:

"Would to heaven you had not met us, sir! You will be like ourselves."

"How?" asked the lad.

"Each of us was a wealthy merchant, such as you are," said the men; "we went to Tiflis and there heard that the King had a daughter called the World's Beauty. We wished to see her, and they charged each of us forty pieces of gold to behold her from behind a glass partition. We fell in love with her, and thereafter spent all our wealth to see her over and over again. So we wasted eighty camel-loads of merchandise and to-day we are so poor that no one cares to look at us."

The lad gave them a handful of gold coins, and on the next day loaded his camels and started for Tiflis. He gave forty gold coins to see the World's Beauty from behind the glass, and after that spent all his wealth and merchandise for her sake. He came back to Bagdad to his mother, as poor as Job, and told her his ill-luck. She scolded him for his disobedience to his father's command. But the lad wept and promised that he would not go to Tiflis any more, if she gave him from his father's secret chamber something by which he could earn his living and preserve his father's reputation. His mother gave him an empty purse, saying:

"If to-day you put in this purse forty pieces of copper, on the morrow you will see that they have changed to forty pieces of gold. After three years, the gold put into the purse changes into copper. That is to say, once in three years the talisman changes to its contrary."

"This is good," thought the lad; "I have now an inexhaustible revenue, which never requires work."

He soon forgot his promise to his mother, and took the first caravan to go to Tiflis. He paid forty gold pieces every day to see the World's Beauty, and his money was not exhausted. The maiden was surprised, and one day invited him to a banquet, with the intention of robbing him.

"Ah! I love you very much," she said to him, artfully, "I will certainly marry you if you tell me the secret of your wealth."

How easily may a simple youth be deceived by an artful woman! The lad fell into the trap and showed her the magic purse. The maiden intoxicated him with poisonous wine, and taking away the purse expelled him from her house. He returned to his mother, lamenting his loss. He wept and promised not to go again to Tiflis, if she gave him something else from his father's secret chamber by which he might earn his living. A mother's heart is tender; she could not resist his importunities, and at last brought to him from the secret chamber a cap, saying:

"This is a magic cap; when you put it on your head you will see others without being seen by anybody."

This was something that suited the lad best of all. As soon as he became the owner of the cap he forgot his solemn promises to his mother and directly set out for the city of Tiflis. He entered the maiden's house and looked at her as much as he pleased, without being molested. The maiden and the inmates of the house detected that there was somebody in the house, but they could not see him, despite their repeated efforts. One day, the maiden thought it might be the youth of Bagdad who was playing this trick, and she called him by his name, saying:

"Disclose yourself, I will certainly marry you."

The lad took the cap from his head, and appeared to the maiden.

"O, my dear lord," said the wily maiden, "I have been burning for your love. Ever since you have gone away I have uttered no name but yours, and I am yours still if you tell me your secret."

The lad was deceived by her artful words and told her the secret of the cap. A banquet was given to the lad, poisonous wine was served to him, and the cap being taken from him he was expelled from the house, with disgrace. He came back to Bagdad, begging his way. He had no heart to go again to his mother. He entreated the intervention of friends and kinsfolk, who persuaded the mother and reconciled her with her prodigal son. He begged his mother for a third secret from his father's chamber.

"But one secret is left," she said. "If you lose this one also, we shall become hungry and naked, and become paupers."

She gave the lad a horn, and told him to blow it. The lad blew it, and lo! the mountains and plains were covered with soldiers.

"Now," she said, "blow it from the other end."

He did so, and lo! the army disappeared.

"Mamma," said the lad, "now let me go, fight with my enemies and bring back all that I have lost."

Thus speaking he set out without waiting for an answer. As soon as he arrived at Tiflis, he stood upon the hilltop near the city and blew the horn. In the twinkling of an eye the city was besieged by an army so great that there was no room left for the soldiers to stand on. There was a sudden panic in the city; all the people were terrified. The King sent messengers to the lad, asking him what he wanted.

"War! War!" exclaimed the lad. "Who do you think I am?"

They recognized him and saw that he was the lad of Bagdad. Thereupon the King called his daughter, saying:

"You are the cause of this trouble; go see the lad and quench this fire, before we both perish."

The maiden sent a messenger to the lad, saying:

"I will come to you, my love, and we will go directly to the church to be married, and then go to our house. But, love, disperse your army that I may come to you."

Soon after the message the maiden herself appeared. The lad blew the horn from the other end, and the army disappeared. The maiden coming to the lad, apologized for the past and poured out all her store of sweet and fascinating words. She brought also a letter from her father approving of their marriage. The lad told the maiden the secret of the horn, but this time did not give it to her.

"Well, then," said the maiden, "put the horn in your trunk, lock and seal it, and let us send it home. One cannot go to church with a horn in one's pocket; it is a sin. After the wedding we will return home, examine the seal of the trunk, and open it. Nobody will steal your horn."

The lad consented, and putting the horn in the box, sealed it and sent it to the maiden's house. When they reached the church door, the maiden suddenly exclaimed:

"O me! I forgot to kiss the hand of my father and mother. Let me go and bid them farewell, then I will come and the wedding will take place."

The lad believed her and let her go. Coming to the house, she ordered her servants to break the trunk. She got out the horn, sent a man to the lad and expelled him with disgrace from the city. The lad was now at a complete loss. He had no more hope in his mother, and no favor in the sight of his countrymen. For a time he wandered here and there and then decided to go to sea.

"Let me go," he thought, "to the end of the world, to an unknown country, where nobody will know me."

He was accepted as a servant on board a ship. But soon after they sailed there was a heavy storm on the sea, and the ship was wrecked. The lad was saved on a piece of board, and was cast upon an uninhabited island where he lived eating wild berries. One day he saw two apple-trees growing near one another; the fruit of one was of common size, but the fruit of the other tree was as large as a man's head, and very tempting to eat.

"What a nice fruit!" thought the lad, and ate one of the large apples. As soon as he tasted it, lo! he became a donkey, with a tail and very long ears. As a four-legged beast, for a time he grazed in the neighborhood; only he was conscious that he was a man and had become a donkey. One day, as he was grazing near the two apple-trees, he ate one of the small apples which had fallen down from the tree, and lo! he became a man as before.

"This is well," thought the lad, "I can make good use of these wonderful fruits."

He picked up a good many of the apples of both kinds. One day he saw a ship sailing at a distance. He displayed a signal and the ship sailed to the island. He went on board, taking both kinds of apples with him. The sailors pitied him and brought him back to Tiflis without charge. The lad disguised himself, and taking the shape of a peddler, went to the neighborhood of the house of the King's daughter, to sell his large apples. The maiden was greatly pleased with the appearance of the fruit, and paying twenty pieces of gold, bought two large apples. She and her forty maids ate slices of the apples, and all of them were suddenly changed into donkeys, and went out into the yard braying. It is said that as a donkey also the World's Beauty was excellent. The King came with his peers who, seeing what had happened, were greatly surprised and grieved. By this time the lad was again disguised, taking the shape of a doctor, and calling himself Dr. Karabobo. The King's servants summoned all the doctors of the city, but it was of no avail. At last they said to the King that there was left only a certain Dr. Karabobo, a foreigner.

"Bring him hither," said the King.

By that time all the followers of secret arts crowded about the King's palace. Priests, monks, astrologers, star-gazers, magicians, sorcerers, witches, wizards, necromancers, bird conjurers, mice conjurers, snake conjurers, predictors by measuring with the span, predictors by casting beans or blue pebbles, predictors by gazing at cups of water, and all kinds of enchanters, male and female, old and young, were there, practicing their arts, but none could understand the secret, or devise a remedy. They all, however, were unanimous in declaring that it was a punishment sent from heaven to chastise the World's Beauty for her arbitrary cruelties. Thereupon Dr. Karabobo came in and said to the King:

"I can transform these donkeys once more into human beings, but only on two conditions; first, that you give to me your daughter in marriage, and secondly, that you also give me whatever I desire."

"I agree to do so," answered the King.

The agreement was written, signed and sealed by the King and his twelve peers. The lad took the document, and putting it in his pocket, said:

"First of all, I want you to bring hither the eighty camel-loads of merchandise, which your daughter stole from two merchants."

The King gave orders and they were brought.

"Now bring," he added, "the forty loads which were taken from the youth of Bagdad; bring his magic purse, cap, and horn, and also the gold coins which were, during the past years, taken from the magic purse at the rate of forty gold pieces a day."

The King and his lords were surprised that he knew all this, but were obliged to bring what he asked, according to the agreement. The King only begged him not to demand the gold which the purse had held, as there was not enough in the royal treasury to make up so large a sum. But Dr. Karabobo was inflexible; he held the horn in readiness to call the army, if needed. Then he drew the small apples out of his pocket and gave a piece to every donkey, whereupon they were transformed into human beings. After that he told them who he was. He took the maiden and all belonging to him and set out for Bagdad. He blew the horn and an immense army accompanied him. Thus with a princely procession he came to the city of Erzerum, where he found the two ex-merchants and restored to them their property. Then he entered Bagdad with great pomp, and said to his mother, who had gone to meet him:

"Mother, here are all my possessions, and here is the maiden who tortured your son so much. I was obliged to become an ass before I learned how to treat her, and it was necessary for her to become an ass before she ceased to be a deceitful shrew. She is now a human being and promises to become a submissive daughter-in-law."

The maiden then kissed both hands of the aged woman as a token of her obedience. They celebrated their wedding festival for forty days, after which they went to the church and were married.

SALMAN AND ROSTOM.

Salman was a strong and mighty man, He was as large as a hill, as powerful as a giant, and a terrible tyrant. He lived in one corner of the world, but his fame spread terror over all the earth. He had a horse of lightning, and his arms were as strong as iron. He assaulted men in their peaceful habitations, and took tribute from them; none could refuse to pay him tribute, else he would slaughter and destroy the people. In another portion of the earth there was another strong brigand, called Chal, who had a son named Rostom. This Rostom was a huge man, as large as a mountain, and greatly celebrated for his extraordinary strength and bravery. It was only the land of this Chal which did not pay tribute to Salman.

One day Chal mounted his horse and started, saying: "Let me go and see what kind of a man Salman is."

After a long journey he met a huge man mounted on a horse swift as lightning; the staff of his spear was as thick as a man's waist. Chal did not know that this was Salman himself; but nevertheless he prepared his spear for battle. To his surprise, the horseman gave spur to his horse and passed by Chal without even looking at his face. Upon this Chal was offended, and threw his spear after the horseman. Salman turned back, seized Chal, whom he bound under the belly of his horse, and galloped until he came to a tent pitched by a gurgling spring. He dismounted, nailed Chal's ear to the tent's beam, and lay down to sleep. Chal was almost mad with rage; he gnashed his teeth and muttered to himself:

"He did not speak a word to me, he did not tell me his name. I wish I might know who he is."

Salman soon waked, and asked:

"Fellow, who are you?"

"I am from Chal's country," answered Chal. He was so much afraid that he did not say that he was Chal himself.

"Ah!" exclaimed Salman, releasing Chal's ear, "why did you not tell me before? Go and bid Rostom, Chal's son, come hither that we may measure swords. There cannot be two men of equal strength; the world must know who is the stronger champion. I am Salman."

Chal returned to his house and sighed deeply. Rostom, hearing him sighing, said:

"How now, father? You are Chal and I am Rostom, your son, and yet you sigh! Nay, you must tell me your grief."

Chal told him of his meeting with Salman, and the latter's challenge to Rostom. Rostom took with him his cousin Vyjhan, and both disguised themselves, assuming the habit of pilgrims. Rostom kissed his white-hoofed horse on both eyes and said to his father:

"When I am in trouble my horse will know it and will beat the ground with his feet. Then bind my arms upon his back and set him free; he will come and find me."

Vyjhan, who accompanied Rostom on his journey, was far from being a common mortal. He had a wonderful voice; if he cried in the East his voice would be heard in the West. After traveling for a long time, Rostom and Vyjhan came to a city and encamped upon a meadow outside the town. Rostom was sleeping, when Vyjhan heard a terrible uproar in the city and went there to inquire the cause of the trouble. Some of the people were running like chased deer, some were tearing their hair, some beating their breasts, and all were weeping and wailing.

"Why, what is the matter?" asked Vyjhan.

"Salman has come, demanding seven years' tribute that is in arrears," the people answered.

Soon they collected the amount; but the question now arose, by whom they should send the tribute, because Salman would take away the man by whom the tribute was sent, and kill him.

"Give it to me, I will take it," said Vyjhan.

Soon Rostom heard in his sleep Vyjhan's shrill voice, saying:

"Help, Rostom! Salman is carrying me away."

Rostom got up and learned from the people what had happened, and lo! his white-hoofed horse came running and stood before him. Immediately Rostom jumped on the back of his horse, which galloped away and soon reached Salman's tent. Salman, having nailed Vyjhan's ear to the tent beam, came out to meet Rostom. Then and there took place a duel the most terrible that has ever been recorded in the history of the world. Bows and arrows, spears and swords were cut into pieces. Finally they came near one another, seized each other, and both were entangled in each other's hair.

Up to the present time they have not yet conquered one another, but are still struggling. Now and then they pull and shake each other so violently that the earth quakes, and that is what men call an earthquake; and Vyjhan's voice is still heard deeply from afar.

THE SPARROW AND THE TWO CHILDREN.

Vart was the name of a boy who was six years old, and Vartoohi was the name of his sister, who was five years of age. Varteni, their dear mother, had died, and Vartan, their father, had brought home a stepmother who had with her a boy of her own four years old. Vartan was a well-to-do farmer, and as he loved his children he brought them nice suits of clothes and dresses, delicious food, pretty toys and many other presents. The stepmother, being a wicked woman, envied the little half-orphans and wished to destroy them that she might secure every good thing for her own child. In order to attain her vile purpose she secretly boiled the seed which her husband was to sow in the field that year. The wheat, of course, did not grow, and as there was no crop, the farmer had to borrow to meet his expenses. The following year she played the same treacherous trick and increased the farmer's indebtedness so much that the poor man, giving up every hope of the farm, went away to sojourn in other countries to earn money. That was what the wicked woman desired with all her heart. She fed her son with meat and pies, while she gave the half-orphans only a handful of boiled wheat to eat. One day she decided to take Vart and Vartoohi to the river as if to bathe them, and there to drown them. That day the two innocent half-orphans had taken their handful of boiled wheat and were eating it in a corner of the yard. They saw a small sparrow which was jumping and hopping around them, and chirping and chattering as it leaped. Vart wanted to kill it with a stone, but Vartoohi prevented him. As they were eating their poor, scanty meal, they listened to the little birdie, and lo! they thought they could understand what it was chirping.

"Orphans, orphans! good little orphans!" the little sparrow was saying, "give me a few grains which I may take to my little ones in my tiny nest and I will give you good counsel."

The children cast a few grains to the bird, which after taking them to its nest came back, saying:

"Orphans, run! orphans, run! your stepmother will to-day take you to the river to drown you. Run, orphans, run!"

And the little sparrow flew away. Soon the stepmother came, saying:

"Get up, you dirty things! we will go to the river, where I may bathe you."

"You go first, mamma; we will come by and by," answered the orphans.

And following the advice of their little feathered friend they ran away to the mountains. The stepmother never searched for them, and the two children wandered in the forest until evening. At nightfall they entered the hollow trunk of an old sycamore tree, repeated the prayer which they had learned from their dead mother, and lay down to sleep embracing one another. Soon after daybreak the faithful sparrow came, and the two children waking heard it chirp to them:

"Orphans, good orphans, come and eat; there is boiled wheat for you."

They immediately got up and ran after the sparrow, which led them until they came where an old woman brought a kettleful of boiled wheat, and emptying it under a tree, went away. A great many little sparrows were gathered; the two half-orphans sat with them at the table. The good old woman used to bring the kettleful of wheat and empty it under that tree day after day. She did this in memory of her children and grandchildren, who had died when they were young boys and girls, and whom she had loved very much. She believed that these little birdies were the spirits of her dead little ones. So these two half-orphans lived with the little sparrows for a long time.

One day as the Prince was hunting in the forest he met Vart and Vartoohi, took them with him to the palace, loved them and adopted them as his son and daughter. The children were so pretty and amiable that all the court loved them dearly. But Vart and Vartoohi were not happy.

"What is the matter with you, my children?" asked the Prince; "what is the cause of your grief?"

"We long to see our dear papa who has gone away," answered Vart.

"And we long to see the little sparrow, our benefactor," added Vartoohi.

The Prince sent out men in search of Vartan, the father of the children; and finding him, brought him home. He punished his wife for her wickedness, and embraced his children. The Prince kept him also, as a messenger in the court. But who could find the sparrow? It came by itself one day, and alighting on the window where the orphans were, chirped:

"You blessed little orphans, you pitied my little ones and gave me grain, and lo! Heaven has bestowed upon you so many bounties. May you continue to be blessed and to be happy."

The Prince liked the little sparrow for its good services and permitted it to build its nest thereafter under the eaves of the palace. All sparrows which at the present time build their nests under the eaves of houses are the descendants of that good sparrow. Let us be good even to the sparrows and they may bring good to us.

THE OLD WOMAN AND THE CAT.

AN ARMENIAN NURSERY TALE. [3]

Once upon a time there was an old woman who had a goat. She milked the goat every day and kept the milk in the cupboard; but a sly cat came and licked it up. One day, however, the old woman succeeded in getting hold of the cat, and cutting off her tail as a punishment, let her go.

"Meow! meow!" cried the cat; "give me my tail!"

"Bring me my milk and I will give you your tail," said the old woman.

The cat went to the goat and said: "Goat, kind goat, do give me some milk! I will give it to the old woman and get back my tail."

"Bring me some boughs from yonder tree, and I will give you milk," answered the goat.

The cat went to the tree and said, "O good tree, do give me some boughs! I will take them to the goat, get a little milk and give it to the old woman, and get back my tail."

"Bring me some water and I will give you some boughs," answered the tree.

The cat went to the water-carrier and said, "Kind water-carrier, give me some water! I will take it to the tree and get some boughs, give them to the goat and get some milk, and give it to the old woman and get my tail."

"Bring me a pair of shoes and I will give you some water," said the water-carrier.

The cat went to the shoemaker and said, "Shoemaker, good shoemaker, do give me a pair of shoes! I will give them to the water-carrier, who will give me some water; I will take it to the tree and get some boughs for the goat; she will give me some milk, which I will take to the old woman and get my tail."

"Bring me an egg and I will give you a pair of shoes," said the shoemaker.

The cat went to the hen and said, "Hen, good hen, do lay me an egg! I will take it to the shoemaker and get a pair of shoes for the water-carrier; he will give me some water, which I will take to the tree and get some boughs for the goat; she will give me some milk, which I will take to the old woman and get my tail."

"Bring me some barley and I will lay an egg for you," answered the hen.

The cat went to the threshing-floor and said, "Threshing-floor, kind threshing-floor, do give me some barley!"

The threshing-floor said: "There, you may gather the scattered barley which my good master has left as food for the birdies and ants."

The cat gathered the barley and took it to the hen, which laid her an egg. She took the egg to the shoemaker and got a pair of shoes. She took the pair of shoes to the water-carrier and got a pailful of water for the tree. The tree gave her some boughs which she took to the goat. The goat gave her some milk which she took to the old woman.

"Here is your tail," said the old woman, "and be careful hereafter not to steal my milk."

The cat took her tail and tried to stick it in its place but she could not. She tried over and over again to stick it with resin, with tar and with glue, but it was of no use. So that cat has remained tailless to this day, as a sign of her being a thief.

Moral.--Wickedness is always punished. Nothing valuable can be gotten without labor. The mark of a great sin cannot be erased.

SIA-MANTO AND GUJE-ZARE.

NOTE.

Miss Alice Stone Blackwell was kind enough to put into English verse for me the following ballad. In some districts of Armenia this tragic story of Sia-Manto and Guje-Zare is told as a prose tale as are the other tales of this volume. In some other districts, especially near the foot of Mount Ararat, it has the form of a versified ballad and is sung with great relish by both the Armenians and the Kurds. According to the tradition of the natives, Sia-Manto was an Armenian youth and Guje-Zare a Kurdish maiden. They were both of noble birth. The Armenians and the Kurds, although close neighbors, never intermarry owing to their religious differences. The Kurds, however, very often kidnap Armenian girls, and as they are professed Mohammedans they find protection from the Turkish authorities, instead of being punished for their crimes. The Armenians, on the other hand, being despised as "Christian infidels," never dare to kidnap or elope with Kurdish girls. This is the only instance on record of a Kurdish maiden's elopement with an Armenian youth, and this is a mere tale.

A. G. S.

SIA-MANTO AND GUJE-ZARE.

It chanced that Sia-Manto in a dream
Saw Guje-Zare; in his dream it seemed
They were troth-plighted, and exchanged their rings.
To Guje-Zare the same dream befell
On the same night. Then Sia-Manto rose
Long before dawn, and, mounting on his steed--
Red, spirited, a horse of lightning--rode
Swift as an eagle to his sweetheart's tribe.
An aged dame received him in her tent.

Lo! drums were beating, trumpets sounding loud.
"Why is this mirth, and whose the festival?"
He asked of his good hostess, the old dame.
"'Tis Guje-Zare's wedding, O my son,"
She answered, "and the bridegroom from afar
Has come to bear her with him to his home.
This is the third day of the festival."
Then Sia-Manto prayed with tearful eyes,
Saying, "A token bear to her from me;"
And from his finger drew and gave the ring
Exchanged with Guje-Zare in his dream.
The old dame took a kerchief many-hued,
Put raisins in it, and with them the ring.
Then to the bride she went, and wished her joy.
The lovely girl received her and her gift;
With fingers dyed with henna, she turned o'er
And stirred the raisins; and among them, lo!
The ring of the betrothal of her dream!
She knew it at a glance; deeply she sighed;
She paled, her eyes were darkened, and she swooned.
The old dame held her, and with sorrow said:
"O Guje-Zare! would I had been blind
And had not seen this sight! What is thy pain?
Dear soul, what ails thee? Ope thine eyes, thy lips!
Tell me, what hast thou seen? What moves thee thus?"
The voice of sympathy, the dame's warm touch,
Roused Guje-Zare; faintly thus she spake:
"O auntie, I implore thee, tell me true
Where dwells the owner of this golden ring?"
"A guest within my tent," replied the dame.
Then Guje-Zare, sighing, said, "Behold,
Of the festivities three days are past;
To-morrow is the bridal's final day.
Let Sia-Manto know there is one chance,
But one; to-morrow morning I shall go
Unto my mother's tomb; alone I go
To weep there, and to bid her bones farewell.
There may he come and find me. Tell him this."
The dame to Sia-Manto told her tale.

That night long, Sia-Manto could not sleep.
Ere dawn he rose, and hastened to the place.
There, 'neath the silent dome, sleep fell on him.
He wrapped his cloak about him, slept, and snored.
Soon Guje-Zare came; and lo! he slept.
She stood there long, and long she gazed on him;
Pitying, she did not touch him. Sound he slept,
And loud he snored, while by his side she stood.
She blamed him, and condemned him in her heart;
Two golden marbles from her pocket drew,
And put them in his pocket, and went home.

'Twas noon when Sia-Manto woke from sleep.
He looked around and beat his head, and came
Again to his kind hostess. Mournfully,
With broken heart, thus spake he to the dame:
"Auntie, I sought the tomb; she was not there.
I slept there; when I woke I was alone."
"Ah!" said the dame. "Hast thou no token, look
Within thy pocket?" And he looked, and lo!
The pair of golden marbles. "This," she said,
"Is Guje-Zare's token." "But," he asked,
"What does it mean?" "By this," the matron said,
"She meant, 'I see thou yet art but a boy,
And not a man of love. Go play with boys;
This undertaking is too great for thee.'"

Then Sia-Manto blushed with shame. In tears
He begged the dame, "Go, auntie, go once more,
For Heaven's sake, and let her speak to thee
A last word. What she bids me, I will do."

The dame from Guje-Zare brought this word:
"To-morrow is the bridal's closing day,
The day of the procession. At that time
The bridegroom and his men will bear me hence.
If Sia-Manto is a man, and knows
How to be loved, and love, let him come then,
Full armed from head to foot, upon his steed,
And take me. We will go to Ararat,
And rest and love there, hidden in the mist."

Next morning, when the bridal train set forth,
The bridegroom, with his forty horsemen, armed
From head to foot, rode, bearing home the bride.
And then like lightning Sia-Manto came,
And snatched the bride, and set her on his steed;
And swifter rode he than the eagle flies
Chasing a dove; a journey of three days
Was all passed over in that one wild ride.
With the same swiftness the pursuers rode.
The rider on the gray steed nearest pressed.
"Who is it," Sia-Manto asked his love,
"That risks his own life and his horse's thus?"
"'Tis he," she answered, "from whom thou hast reft
His plighted bride, the maid whom he had loved
A year and longer. Do not blame him, dear;
His heart is broken; he is full of rage."

He lifted Guje-Zare from the horse,
And spread his cloak, and set her there to rest;
Then, mounting, took his arrows and his sword,
And furiously on the pursuers fell,
And slew the forty horsemen and their steeds.
Then he returned, and Guje-Zare bore
Unto Mount Ararat, where they reposed,
Hid in thick mist and fog. His weary head
He laid in her soft lap, and fell asleep.