THE HERMIT OF MOTEE 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 
 
 LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA






 
 THE 
 
 HERMIT OF MOTEE JHUENA, 
 
 OR 
 
 PEARL SPRING; 
 
 ALSO 
 
 INDIAN TALES AND ANECDOTES, 
 
 MORAL AND INSTRUCTIVE. 
 
 " The cheerful sage when graver maxims fail, 
 Conceals the moral in a pleasing Tale" 
 
 BY 
 
 C. V E R N I E U X. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, 
 
 RECAST AND ENLARGED. 
 
 CALCUTTA: 
 
 PRINTED AT THE BAPTIST MISSION PRESS. 
 SOLD AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. 
 
 1873. 
 Price Rs. 1/8.






 
 PREFACE. 
 
 More than sixteen years ago, the Hermit appeared 
 in the " Calcutta Literary Gazette" which was con- 
 ducted by Capt. Richardson. 
 
 It was originally published in nine chapters, but in 
 the present issue, four additional chapters of interesting 
 matter have been added, and the entire tale has under- 
 gone a complete revision. 
 
 The design of the tale is, to bring prominently 
 into view, the character of our Moslem neighbours in 
 the country ; the incidents chosen, it is hoped, are 
 calculated both to amuse and furnish the reader with 
 interesting accounts of their personal qualities which, 
 unfortunately, are not so well known as those of the 
 Hindoos ; the simple fact that books are more numer- 
 ously written about the latter than the former, go to 
 prove the assertion. 
 
 I have been faithful in delineating the customs, 
 ceremonies, manners and habits of the Mahomedans, 
 and their interior domestic life ; not omitting, how- 
 ever, to present the reader with a picture of Indian 
 life in general, with descriptive sketches of the gorge- 
 ous scenery of the country, and hints regarding its 
 undeveloped natural resources. 
 
 The Indian Tales and Anecdotes were translated 
 and published by me in 1864, and it has for some 
 years past gone out of print. 
 
 The English reader has, by translations, been long 
 acquainted with the gems of Oriental Literature. It



 
 lias been my desire to furnish a collection of Indian 
 4Talcs and Anecdotes not to be found in books. 
 
 They are legendary and oral, and current both in 
 the Courts of Rajahs, Nawabs, and Princes; in man- 
 sions of opulence, as well as in the hamlets of the poor. 
 
 I doubt if there be any part in the world so abound- 
 ing- with this sort of light oral literature as the East. 
 Being as they are, the inhabitants of an enervating 
 climate, they generally beguile the tediousness of their 
 unemployed time by listening to the recital of some 
 stirring event, some pleasing fiction, some pathetic nar- 
 rative, or some useful moral precept. 
 
 It has not been niy design to collect written tales 
 like those of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, but 
 from the many stories and anecdotes in Urdu, Hindi, 
 and Bengali, I have had the opportunity of hearing, I 
 have gathered such as possess some degree of merit 
 either for the moral they convey, or the light according 
 to which virtue and vice, deceit and integrity, are 
 weighed in an Oriental balance. 
 
 Probably, too, it is by such short narratives and 
 pithy sayings among such a people, that a very faint 
 glimmering of the knowledge of good and bad,, right 
 and wrong, is diffused and propagated. 
 
 I have, in rendering them into English, discarded 
 all embellishment with a view to preserve their ori- 
 ginality and identity. 
 
 C. V. 
 
 CALCUTTA, November, 1873.



 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Hermit of Motee-Jhuma, 1 
 
 Indian Tales. 
 
 A Brahmin and his Pupil, 81 
 
 The Story of Six Brothers, 85 
 
 A Merchant and his Son, 89 
 
 The Story of an Indolent Man, 93 
 
 A Badsha and his Seven Daughters, 103 
 
 The Story of a Fakir and an Ignorant Man, 107 
 
 An Old Man and Woman 110 
 
 The Story of a Brahmin and Brahminee, 116 
 
 Rajah Nul, .. , 119 
 
 The Story of a Prince and the Son of a Yizier, , . 126 
 
 A Grass-cutter, 1 34 
 
 Tlie Story of a Lion, 136 
 
 A Simpleton, 139 
 
 The Story of a Prince, , 142 
 
 A Washerman and his Ass, 147 
 
 The Story of a Fakir, . 149 
 
 The two. Beggars, 154 
 
 Story of another Fakir, 156 
 
 The two Sisters Dookhee and Sookhee, 163 
 
 A Fox and an Elephant, , 168 
 
 A Pea-seller and his Wife, 170 
 
 A Crocodile and Fox, , 171 
 
 The Two Friends, 174 
 
 A Brahmin, a Sandal- wood Tree and wild Trees, 176 
 
 A Gardener and a wild Brinjal Plant, 179 
 
 A Heron and Kingfisher, 180 
 
 The Jungle Fever and the Cobweb, 182 
 
 The Son of an Honest Man, 184 
 
 Dhurm Raja, 189 
 
 The Story of a Badsha, 192



 
 Page 
 The Story of a Merchant, 202 
 
 He that diggeth a Pit for another falleth into it himself, ... 209 
 
 A Parody on the Cashraerian Girl, !...., 210 
 
 The Tears of Sympathy, , 218



 
 TII IMMIT m 
 
 OR PEARL SPRING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 the right or western bank of the Ganges lies the village of 
 Seebgunge, in whose vicinity are the ruins of Raj Girghy, 
 so called under the ancient Hindoo Government, but subse- 
 quently dignified with the title of Akburnagur after Akbar, 
 and lastly designated Raj-Mahul, by Raja Kanare Man Sing. 
 
 In the fifteenth century, when the Sultans made it the 
 capital of their vice-royalty, it prided itself in possessing elegant 
 buildings of a style of architecture remarkable for accurate 
 proportions, beauty of design, and tasteful execution. 
 
 The portals and capitals of columns were adorned with numerous 
 figures in basso-relievo, representing the celebration of festivals 
 gateways, large and handsome the interior of buildings 
 ornamented with wreathed mouldings the palace of Noges- 
 warbag, Rungmahal, or painted hall- 1 Jumna Musjid, Akbara- 
 bad Mosque, Sungge-dullan, or stone hall the tomb of Bukht 
 Homa, which contained the remains of Mirza Muhammed, 
 Subah of Bengal, together with a well finished oratory, having 
 its front lined with highly polished marble, and neatly inlaid 
 with pious sentiments in black marble ; these were edifices whose 
 grandeur and superb architecture were inferior to none on the 
 plains of India. 
 
 Raj-Mahul was once the residence of Futtehjung Khan, 
 
 Sultan Shujah, houri-like begums, and polished Shazadas. But 
 
 where now the monuments of their grandeur, where they whose 
 
 laughter and merriment, bustle of occupation, anxiety and 
 
 1



 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 hopes, which gave life and brilliance to the place of their resi- 
 dence ? Alas ! all the pomp and pageantry of dignity, the 
 evanescent glitter of glory and ambition's rainbow hues which 
 made earth and existence seem an imaginary paradise, and for 
 
 time a desirable object of pursuit and acquisition where are 
 they now with their insatiate throb after painted pleasures, 
 their fever of boundless ambition ? They have passed away 
 like summer clouds, at times brilliant in their journey with 
 the hues of sunshine, but for ever vanished into darkness and 
 oblivion. All have been swept away by the irresistible tide of 
 time. The best portions of those buildings themselves, which 
 were more durable than their designers, have been undermined 
 and imbedded with the sand of the Ganges, yet the few that 
 remain, bear indications of their pristine magnificence, and may 
 well support the designation of Kaj-Mahul, or residence of 
 princes. Sixteen miles from hence up the river, and two 
 miles below the eminence called Sukreegully hill, was the beau- 
 tiful and picturesque litte fall, which trickling like a pearl- 
 spring, had derived its name Motee-Jhuma. 
 
 In its neighbourhood, but at the distance of not more than 
 two hundred yards, stands a venerable banian which spreads 
 out its many lateral branches over an extensive area, beneath 
 which the fibres descending at intervals, form themselves into 
 sturdy columns to support each of the ponderous branches. 
 
 Some parasitical plants that adhere to its trunk, adorn the 
 banian with their diversity of leaves and flowers of the most 
 delicate hue, as well as gather little warblers who sip, poise on 
 the tender twigs, and make the shade musical with their songs 
 of innocent mirth. Beneath the umbrage of this wide spread 
 canopy, dwelt a hermit whose fervent devotion, together with 
 the extensive knowledge of medicine and the virtue of plants, 
 which he pre-eminently possessed, spread his fame for many 
 miles around, and attracted to his humble hut, the poor with 
 their gift of flowers and humble donations, the opulent with 
 more costly offerings and presents.



 
 Ameerjan had the majestic and commanding air of one 
 who well knew the sway he held over the minds of the igno- 
 rant and superstitious, and the fear and respect which his 
 reputation for being in league with secret powers, had 
 command over the great. 
 
 With all his pretensions, however, to occult science, he never 
 made an ostentatious display of his talents, nor abused the in- 
 fluence thus acquired, but ever gentle and meek, the most timid 
 would converse with him with perfect unreserve, and always 
 leave him with an impression that though at times seemingly 
 ojf a proud and haughty bearing, Ameerjan was the most kind 
 and tender-hearted person in general deportment. In stature 
 he was above the ordinary size, while his frame was muscular 
 and well built. His dark hair which was parted in the centre 
 of his head, waved clustering over his masculine shoulders in 
 graceful ringlets, while his beard that descended two or three 
 inches below the chin, was trimmed in shape like a crescent. 
 
 Constant exposure to the influence of several climes, 
 gave to his complexion, which was otherwise fair, a tinge of 
 olive. A pair oijunghyas or trousers, was worn by him girded 
 about his waist with a silk belt. The upper part of his person 
 was covered with something like a waistcoat, over which, a 
 tunic or cloak was used. A bag, pendant from one of his 
 shoulders, contained different roots and drugs, as also a scrip 
 and cruse with which he would venture forth from his hut on 
 short journies to Eaj-Mahul and its neighbouring villages. 
 His only companion on such occasions, was a huge shaggy dog 
 of Nepaul breed, led by a chain held on his left hand, while 
 his right supported a cane formed of bamboo root, which at 
 the extremity intended for the handle, was inverted, and had 
 two side shoots clipped so as to resemble the head and antlers 
 of a deer. Passing the gates of the Omrao of Raj-Mahul, his 
 acquaintance with whom was extensive, and his society was 
 highly appreciated by the Amirs on account, not only of his 
 talents, but for his easy, graceful, and refined deportment, he



 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 after such recreative walks, would return to his little cottage 
 which nestled under the shade of the banian. 
 
 Save the cheerful hum of birds, the gentle murmur of the 
 Pearl-Spring, the sad tones of forlorn beings who repaired to 
 his retirement to request his counsel, the sick and barren to 
 obtain drugs in the concoction of which he was an adept, no 
 human voice ever awoke an audible echo of sentiment from 
 the anchoret. To relieve, however, the dull monotony of his 
 daily occupations, his cottage contained scraps of the Koran, 
 and verses of his favourite poets Sadi, Hafez, and Furdosi. 
 These constantly employed his leisure in their deep absorbing 
 study, while the works of the famous Zurdhust, or Zoroaster, 
 also occupied a portion of his time. There could exist no sympa- 
 thy between the followers of Mahomed and the disciples of 
 Zoroaster. The Hermit who was not a bigot, gleaned knowledge 
 from whatever source he could, as he had no such weak pre- 
 judices. He admired the works of the great sage of Persia for the 
 numerous valuable ethical doctrines enunciated in them, and did 
 not therefore care a straw for objections which bigotry might 
 raise against it, or in disfavour of any other learned productions 
 of wise and good men, be they of whatever couiitry^creed, or 
 nation they might. He was familiar with the Arabic and Toorky 
 languages, hence it was conjectured that he came from the 
 beautiful city of Phars ; but no more of his history was known 
 than that he might be one of the sons of that brilliant 
 clime. 
 
 From his cottage, through the openings of foliage, you 
 might have a glimpse of the majestic play of the Ganges, spark- 
 ling and dancing in the sunbeam, and rolling onward unresisted 
 in her course, bearing her tribute of waters to her parent the 
 boundless ocean. Of an evening in spring, when the pale empress 
 of night moves majestically over the blue ethereal sea, revealing 
 by her pensive aspect the sorrows with which she too seems to 
 be drenched, it was Ameerjan's habit to walk with his setar 
 a few paces from that shade, to one of the projections of the



 
 hill near the Pearl-Spring. There would he touch its deliccate 
 cords into the sweetest thrill. Thus awoke into mellow whis- 
 pers of pensive melody, it never failed to draw forth a response 
 from his inmost soul. Accompanying the instrument at times 
 with his rich sonorous voice, he would give vent to his 
 smothered feelings in the following verses. 
 
 Tell me, Zeleikha! tell me why, 
 You glance me with your pensive eye ; 
 Why at this distance doth it seem, 
 Your heart pours on me its holy beam ? 
 
 Mem'ry ! take back the image fair ; 
 Of past events to think I dare ; 
 Let chill oblivion wrap or blast, 
 I cannot look on what is past ! 
 
 Smile Chandar ! serenely smile, 
 And with thy influence soft beguile 
 My hours of pain, and I will be 
 Thy votr'y ever loving thee. 
 
 With the calm dews of night falling, 
 And thy bright rays softly bending, 
 Cool the fever of my throbbing breast 
 And steep my senses into rest. 
 
 A pleasing placid smile often sported about the lips of 
 Ameerjan, though his looks wore indications of a deep settled 
 melancholy which seemed to brood over his heart, and spread 
 its gloom on his countenance, tinging the latter with a sort of 
 serenity that was at times too painful to the contemplation of 
 a tenderly susceptible heart. It was not difficult to discern 
 through its medium, the volcanic eruptions from which the heart 
 suffered, and like its expiring embers, threw out the flicker- 
 ing sparks of existence on the visage, by occasional smiles 
 which were robed in gloom more than in cheerfulness.



 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I UST at the hour when the young light of day peeps through 
 c^jj the curtains of the East, gradually mantling the fair cheeks 
 of fleecy clouds with roseate hues, and zephyrs wake from the lap 
 of night and seek the perfumed breath of dew-gemmed flowers ; 
 or when the firmament glows with the farewell kiss of parting 
 day, and mild evening with her cooling breeze fans the weary 
 brow of industry, a young Ameer of a pleasing countenance 
 and graceful appearance, would be seen mounted on a 
 Toorky charger, richly caparisoned, prancing and curveting 
 on the roads of Raj-Mahul. 
 
 Mobaruc Ulli, for it was he, was equipped in a costly kiii- 
 Miaub labada, ornamented with gold buttons, and set with gems 
 about the neck. A pair of canary colored silk trowsers waved 
 beneath, displaying a pair of shagreen high heeled slippers, worn 
 on the foot of the gay equestrian. His Cashmere shawl turban 
 of emerald green, filigreed with a beautiful lacing of gold 
 embroidery, crowned his head, below which fell a profusion of 
 glossy curls in studied negligence. 
 
 Thus attired, the young noble (for he had not witnessed 
 the revolution of more than two and twenty summers) would 
 take his morning and evening ride, amusing himself and being 
 admired by every idle saunterer about the bazar. They 
 applauded the easy manner in which he curbed the restive 
 steed, or praised the graceful attitude in which he seated himself 
 on the spirited animal, by loud wah ! wahs ! 
 
 It was not often that the elegant Oinrao shed the light of his 
 countenance over the all- vivacious chowk. 
 
 On a road opposite the latter place, at the extremity of which 
 the city terminated, a spacious edifice, somewhat out of repair, 
 rose into view. From the corners and sides of its out-offices 
 which were left to greater neglect, the destructive asud, with 
 other tangled creepers,grew spontaneously. These buildings were 
 enclosed by a high wall which surrounded more than twenty-



 
 five bigyahs of land, laid out in promiscuous groves of leechees, 
 mangoes, peaches, pomegranates, and other luscious fruits, the 
 lavish product of a fertile clime. 
 
 The master of the mansion was an Amir of decayed fortune, 
 though he had once amassed much silver and gold, and had kept 
 a splendid establishment under the service of the predecessor 
 of Sujah. 
 
 A host of asabardars, or mace bearers waited once on his 
 pleasure ; and several elephants and horses which formed his 
 retinue, gave an air of dignity to the pageantry. 
 
 Where the garden wall swept round in another direction and 
 was closed from the view of the public road promenaders, a small 
 door opened towards a wide plain from whence at some distance, 
 a few motley huts of husbandmen could be discerned covered 
 with the broad foliage of plantains, with the delicately shaded 
 green of the tamarind, and the dense leaves of patches of mangoe 
 topes. Mobaruc, either to avoid the inquisitive gaze of idlers, 
 or to pursue the even tenor of his calm undisturbed reflections, 
 made this plain the frequent scene of his evening recreation. 
 
 The aged noble who lived so much secluded from society, 
 gave little opportunity for people to whisper who were the in- 
 mates of that half dilapidated mansion. It was therefore, no 
 doubt, like a vision from above, when Nujmoon Nissa, the fair 
 inhabitant of that building, weary with the sameness of amuse- 
 ment and occupation which engaged her within the precincts 
 of her retirement, sought the private gate with her companion, " 
 in order that from thence, they might contemplate the little 
 world of life which the residents of the bungalows at a distance 
 presented and weave in their minds some brief but pleasing 
 narrative of love, or grief, as the mood in which they lay at the 
 time, might have suggested to beguile a few hours of listless 
 occupation. 
 
 Mobaruc, in passing them, struck with an agreeable surprise 
 at so unexpected a vision of beauty, curbed his prancing horse, 
 and gazing intently, saluted thus ; " Fair lady ! who could have



 
 ( 8 ) 
 
 dreamt a moment before that one so beautiful ever respired 
 within those sepulchral walls, and had eclipsed her light and 
 loveliness within their gloomy shadows, but even they which bore 
 an aspect of cheerlessness before, seem now to me as luminous 
 as the Ganges when the sun bathes in her his flood of golden 
 light." As this compliment invited no response, andNujmoon 
 modestly drew the veil over her handsome face, he could not 
 but reluctantly pursue the course of his usual ride. Nujmoon 
 Nissa was a young lady of not more than sixteen years of age, 
 consequently, so little as she was used to the converse of a per- 
 son of the opposite sex, she had not sufficient firmness to look 
 up at the stranger, submit herself to be studied with an eye of 
 scrutiny, or bold enough to enlist herself in conversation. 
 
 Mobaruc had traversed the field, and as he turned his 
 horse to repass them, Nujmoon who was watching his motion, 
 took a hasty glance, then closing the gate, retired with her 
 associate to her now cheerless apartment. 
 
 In the meantime he returned to his residence with reflections 
 though not wholly free from sadness, yet that sadness was not 
 unmixed with joy. 
 
 In that one vehement gaze, his heart had received a deep 
 impress of her image ; and his memory now brought back 
 vividly to the view of his mental eye, her rich drapery of purple 
 silk which composed her trowsers ; her flowered Dacca, jaitni- 
 dane which covered her figure like a veil, and allowed her hair 
 to be seen running down in graceful plats ; her arms orna- 
 mented with armlets and bracelets, set with diamonds, emeralds 
 and pearls; her tapering fingers decked with ringsof value. 
 
 He had drank the melody of that musical voice which he heard 
 when he first met her, and when she spoke to her attendant ; 
 " It is late, come let us retire." He sighed as he thought 
 he still beheld her tender form of exquisite symmetry, reclining 
 over her companion ; and those orbs of light and life that 
 then bent on him their rays of intelligence, as if still looking 
 with pity and complaisance.



 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 Musing thus on a balcony after his ride, he indulged in the 
 following soliloquy : " Man seems to live and feel that he 
 is a living being save when he comes into contact and com- 
 munion with the fair sex. A thousand indescribable sensations 
 of joy rush through his veins, and other emotions and sentiments 
 grow into a sort of existence new and pleasing to himself, which 
 might have otherwise remained in a state of dormancy for ever, 
 or stagnated in the heart of a recluse, and bred apathy, morose- 
 ness, and misanthropy. 
 
 " I must see her again." Repeating the last words, he went 
 to his dormitory and threw himself into the arms of Morpheus, 
 to sleep and to dream. 
 
 Nujmoon, in the retirement of her chamber, indulged the 
 image of the handsome stranger ; and made many a conjecture 
 as to who he might be, and if he would visit the field again ? 
 If her behaviour was repulsive, or such that it did not en- 
 courage his advances, was it of that nature which could not 
 offend, but leave him hesitating which course to pursue, with- 
 out totally checking him with despair ? 
 
 A woman's feelings and judgment in these matters which are 
 very acute, and give the most accurate interpretation, made her 
 conscious that her person was not disagreeable to him ; and that 
 like herself, he might also desire an interview, and contract an 
 intimacy which his first meeting evidently indicated he sought. 
 
 While in this mood of perplexity, her attendant, Gool- 
 chummon, entered her apartment. " Well, my ever kind 
 mistress, you seem pleased with something, yet are sad, I hope 
 nothing serious has transpired to make your pensiveness predo- 
 minant, and your depression lasting." " You a woman, Grool- 
 chummun, and cannot read my heart." " To decipher your feel- 
 ings I may, beautiful Nujmoon," she responded. " They are at 
 present, if I have not already lost my penetration, absorbed with 
 thoughts of the handsome Mobaruc, the admiration of all Raj 
 Mahul, as you would be its perpetual praise, were your beauty 
 suffered to be revealed to its light." 
 2



 
 " You surprise me much, Goolchummun ! how came you to 
 learn particulars connected with him, so early ?" 
 
 " That is far from difficult to answer. Discovering your loss 
 of appetite, I went over last night to the chawk to bring you some 
 dainty confection from our hulwhy, when, describing the person 
 of the stranger, his horse, and its rich housings, the pad and the 
 gold-mohurs jingling at its neck, the confectioner instantly re- 
 cognised the Omrao who, he said, was entertained high in the 
 service of our mighty Sultan Sujah Bahadoor." 
 
 Thus conversing with her companion, Nujmoon pleasantly 
 beguiled her monotonous hours *of lassitude. 
 
 The anxiously anticipated evening, which had appeared ad- 
 vancing with leaden steps, arrived at last. 
 
 Nujmoon could no longer refrain from testifying her impa- 
 tience to promenade about the garden, alleging as an excuse 
 that the air about her rooms was too confined to respire freely. 
 
 Groolchummon smiling assent, joined her in the walk. After 
 a few revolutions round beds of flower plants, they were attrac- 
 ted to one of the walks leading to the door which admitted an 
 interesting prospect of the maidan and its distant villages. 
 
 Mobaruc was equally impatient to see her as she was, and had 
 therefore come earlier than was his habit, and was exercising 
 his horse in the wide plain. 
 
 Ever vigilant to learn whether Nujmoon had come to the gate, 
 he constantly reverted his face towards that quarter, and when 
 from that distance he thought he had spied something like a 
 female form in shadowy outlines, he spurred the animal until 
 the outline of that form became conspicuous, when drawing 
 his horse to a gentle canter, and going up, he greeted her with 
 his usual courtesy. 
 
 This civility was not, however, assumed as a mere matter of 
 etiquette, a lifeless unmeaning phraseology, but a language 
 intelligible alike to his feelings as to his heart a sincere out- 
 pouring of his genuine sentiments. 
 
 " Gentle and ever beautiful lady ! I trust this evening finds



 
 ( 11 ) 
 
 you in health and felicity. Absence from you deprives me of 
 peace, while your presence alone restores happiness." 
 
 " Stranger ! your words, if sincere, flatter me much ; but the 
 lovely moon glows only with borrowed light, and we owe all 
 our perfection to your company and conversation, which inter- 
 course, had it not been mutual, would have lost all efficacy for 
 imparting the least gratification." 
 
 "Fair lady! to live under the smile of your presence would 
 be the highest boon of mortals. Would that I could lay me 
 down where your cur is permitted to crouch with impunity." 
 
 Then presenting her with a bouquet assorted with emblemati- 
 cal flowers expressive of his sentiments, he continued : " Would 
 you, fair lady, suffer me, like that envied animal, to dwell al- 
 ways before you ; and like the frail flowers which now grace 
 your person, and ere long will droop there, will you allow me, 
 when weary of earthly toils, to lay my head and sigh there my 
 last breath of existence ?" 
 
 " Stranger," said Nujmoon Nissa, " the familiarity which 
 exists between us and our domesticated animals, removes our 
 aversion and engrafts esteem, so your intimacy with our sex, 
 the weaker and dependent beings, suffers you to admit us as 
 your friends and companions." 
 
 Of this tenor was the topic of conversation on this occasion, 
 and at every succeeding interview, which was frequent, Moba- 
 ruc, who played his part so skilfully because so sincerely, gained 
 much more admission into that heart than his first meeting 
 could promise he would ever attain.



 
 ( 12 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 f HOUGH Nujmoon Nissa, by the inflexible custom of her 
 country, and the rigid rules of her creed, was shut out 
 from the outer world intercourse, and its multifarious amuse- 
 ments, she was not bereft of those which her little domain of 
 female seclusion afforded her. 
 
 She had many kinds of recreation, and varied resources at 
 her command, by which her hours were employed for purposes 
 of not only mere pastime, but profitable occupation, or languid 
 enjoyment. 
 
 The even tenor of Nujmoon Nissa's life was agreeably diver- 
 sified by the occasional visit of some of her relations, who 
 brought a stock of pleasant news, not gleaned, however, from 
 the knowledge of the several incidents that had, one would 
 suppose, transpired within their individual cognisance, but ob- 
 tained from their husbands, or brothers, who had gathered them 
 from the occurrences happening in the great city, or the different 
 out-stations to which business, or pleasure, had taken them. 
 
 The female relations of Nujmoon Nissa, who were wont to 
 visit her periodically, came as their custom was, in a palankeen 
 borne by a set of four bearers, a couple of men running in ad- 
 vance of the conveyance, each holding a silver mace, and 
 followed by a reserve relay of bearers, dressed in scarlet robes, 
 edged with yellow braid. 
 
 The palankeen was similarly mantled with scarlet broadcloth, 
 and it had two circular openings at each door, which were work- 
 ed up with muslin to admit light and air, and to afford the 
 inmate the means of gratifying her desire to see all objects, 
 without being herself seen by anybody's prying eyes. 
 
 On the roof of the palankeen, at the centre, rose a graceful 
 little silver dome, and there were four cones of the same metal, 
 in the corners fixed to adorn the conveyance, and distinguish 
 it from those belonging to the poorer classes. 
 
 When the palankeen had reached its destination, the bear-



 
 ers, after placing it beneath the portico, or vestibule of the 
 house, retired from thence to a short distance, to permit theAmir- 
 zadi, or noble lady, to enter the premises to which she had gone 
 on a visit. 
 
 Not only by this means did the stock of her knowledge of 
 the world augment, but Nujmoon's duenna, Goolchummon, 
 who was a great gossip and an incessant gadabout, and whose 
 insatiable thirst for knowing and meddling with the affairs of all 
 persons, whether acquired by fair legitimate means, and obtain- 
 ed as they freely and spontaneously flowed from the history of 
 the lives of honest simple-minded men who held conversation in 
 the streets of Rajmahal, at the door of shops, or got them by 
 pumping with insinuations and cunning questions, as well as by 
 other tricks, in all which she had a protracted training, and 
 evinced therefore, a tolerable amount of proficiency in the art 
 of extracting news, though the mode by which she procured 
 them, she did not care for. 
 
 That this was mean and dishonorable conduct, of this fact 
 she was thoroughly oblivious. Considering the motive by 
 which she was actuated to so sedulous a duty of collecting gup, 
 that is, for the purpose of imparting some amusement to the 
 child for whom she had, since her infancy, cherished the ten- 
 derest feelings of maternal solicitude, she exonerated herself 
 from self-accusation and remorse, or any tender sentiment 
 if she had actually a single spark of that feeling existing 
 in her heart. Reflecting that her poor dove needed it, waa 
 sufficient reason to soothe her scruples, confined as she 
 was within the bars of her cage, and from which she could nei- 
 ther soar aloft nor roam abroad, and bathe her lofty spirit in the 
 circumambient light of heaven, sparkling herself with its reflec- 
 tion, and pouring out from her bosom a flood of joy, gladdened 
 by the pleasant sights and sounds, and the thrilling emotions 
 which are invariably engendered by such varied scenery the 
 world in her changeful aspects presents to the eye and the 
 thoughtful mind.



 
 Children belonging to the houses of the wealthy and educated 
 people, or men of high rank, have generally Moonshees and 
 Maulvies employed to teach them Arabic and Persian at home. 
 
 In the case of boys, the instruction is prolonged for some 
 time, while girls receive their mental culture up to their tenth 
 or twelfth year, and as long as they are considered to be very 
 young children. 
 
 Nujmoon Nissa had her share of such training. Verses of 
 the Koran and Culma were her first rudimentary lessons, to 
 which other additions were made from time to time by the in- 
 troduction of a few secular, elementary books, and by way of a 
 finish to her studies, some ponderous books considered pon- 
 derous with regard not only to their bulk, but subject were 
 placed in her hands. 
 
 Aristotle's Rhetoric, Life of Secunder Namah, or Alexander 
 the Great, and Shah Namah, or the lives of Kings works now 
 nearly obsolete, or displaced by more modern books on the same 
 subjects were then in the full flush of their reputation, and 
 therefore held in the highest esteem by the learned men of 
 that time, and recommended by them as class books. 
 
 In feminine studies and accomplishments, Groolchummon 
 was her mistress who taught her to ply the needle with dexte- 
 rity in tamboor, braid, cassida, and embroidery works, and also 
 in knitting gloves and socks. When weary of these occupations, 
 and to while away some portion of her ample leisure, she had a 
 few games of sutruiy, or chess, punchisi, baugh-buckri, and 
 diversions of a similar kind. 
 
 On the northern extremity of the grounds belonging to the 
 Omrao, the father of Nujmoon Nissa, is a spacious quadrangu- 
 lar tank that has a ghat, or landing-place on each side, having 
 a flight of steps descending below to the surface of the water. 
 
 At each ghat is a square, formed of Chunar stones, the two 
 entire sides of the square being built of a couch-like shape with 
 masonry, where of a morning or evening in summer, the in- 
 mates went to sit, lounge, and converse, when the temperature 
 within the house was too warm and close to be comfortable.



 
 ( 15 ) 
 
 There is a good deal of poetry in the gorgeously glowing tints 
 in their ever mutable hues, which robe the floating clouds ; in 
 the deep transparent azure of the sky, and the mild radiance of 
 the stars and planets set in the firmament like rubies. 
 
 There is both magnificence and sublimity in the battle of 
 clouds when they are surcharged with electricity, and intensely 
 vivid flashes of lightning disclose their frowning aspect. 
 
 There is grandeur in the high soaring mountains with their 
 vast undulations, waving across an extensive region, crowned 
 with a mantle of eternal snow ; the many sea-like expansive 
 rivers, and vast fields of primitive forests, densely garbed with 
 foliage of many colours, and standing in the pride of their gi- 
 gantic altitude. 
 
 All these sublimely great, or softly tender objects 6f nature, 
 are cradled on the bosom of an Eastern clime in which the 
 subjects of this tale have a local habitation. 
 
 Spring comes in with a fresh verdure and a voluptuous deli- 
 ciousness in the balmy air, replete with the odour of lemon, 
 babool, and other fragrant flowers of the season. 
 
 Flowers of many luscious fruit trees impregnate the air with 
 sweet scents, whilst the highly odorous Jalioria-champa, the 
 Gundraj, Bald, chamali, Juen, Malut/u, and Kamni, load the at- 
 mosphere of a garden with delicious fragrance, not only intense- 
 ly cheering, soothing, and intoxicating in their influence, but 
 inspiring one with feelings and sentiments of love for nature, and 
 all that nature offers to the eye that is beautiful in form, pleasant 
 to the taste, charming to the ear, and attractive to contemplation. 
 Birds of gorgeous plumage and melodious song, pleased and 
 excited with the captivating powers of spring, burst forth into 
 a torrent of harmony that spreads from grove to grove, and 
 brings forth a rich flow of swelling music from other choristers 
 in responsive song. While the gentle dyel, seated in melancho- 
 ly solitude in the extreme verge of one of the boughs, apart 
 from the joyous throng of merry-making birds, smitten with 
 unrequited love as it were, utters his plaintive song in broken



 
 ( 16 ) 
 
 cadences, till tired of complaining, he falls from sheer exhaustion, 
 
 into a state of forgetfulness in a doze. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 One of the recreations in which Nujmoon delighted to in- 
 dulge, was to bathe and swim in the tank during the sultry 
 summer months, when persons take a natural pleasure in hot 
 climates to imitate the amphibious denizens of the world, by 
 being as often in water as in land. 
 
 Soon after dusk, when the stars are all visible to the eye, 
 studding the heavens, Nujmoon divested herself of her gold 
 anklets, that they might not be any impediment to her easy 
 graceful cleaving of the liquid element, and sporting in the 
 tank like one of the water nymphs. 
 
 She could swim across the tank, dive deep and pick up shells 
 from the bottom, and rise like a river goddess with a liquid 
 halo round her, while her luxuriant waving hair descended be- 
 low her waist like a mantle,- from which the blushing waters 
 glided in numerous rippling streamlets, tinged with the moon- 
 beam reflection, investing her fairy-like person with the charms 
 of unearthly brilliance, and an ethereal beauty. 
 
 The ghat alluded to above, was very frequently the place 
 where Nujmoon and her nurse spent many hours in so pleasant 
 and absorbing conversation, that when the falling tide of evening 
 deepened into the darkness of night, they were unconscious that 
 the hours had so rapidly glided by with silken strides, instead 
 of the leaden steps with which they desired that time would 
 have marched. 
 
 When the radiant sun had dipped his burning brow below 
 the western sky, and sleepy twilight was approaching with her 
 softening influences, and the evening zephyrs waving their 
 delicate pinions, the former mellowing the landscape, and the 
 latter rendering the air voluptuous, Nujmoon and Groolchum- 
 mon were seen to step out together from the house to stroll 
 about the grounds, tastefully laid out with groves of luscious 
 fruit trees, and beds of flowers of the richest perfume.



 
 ( '7 ) 
 
 Oil these occasions, she was generally attired according to 
 the season. In winter, she wore a green and yellow striped 
 satin trowsers, a purple jacket, studded with gold buttons set 
 with gems, and a Cashmere shawl having an elaborate border of 
 gold and silk-work. 
 
 In spring, a pair of white cotton trowsers, a light canary 
 colour jacket, and a muslin covering of the same hue, a colour 
 which is universally adopted in the East, under a belief that 
 it harmonises well with the season, greatly improves the com- 
 plexion, and is most becoming at the time. 
 
 Sauntering under the shady topes of trees, now engaged in 
 light sparkling conversation, now skipping about, and betimes 
 stooping to pick up a fresh fruit, or berry, shaken down by the 
 fanning breeze from the boughs of trees, bent under the weight 
 of their full maturity, too heavy, and possessing a slight hold 
 on the branches to be supported any longer by them, they 
 dropped pattering on the ground. 
 
 Sated with diversions of this sort, and after she had exhausted 
 herself with such gambols, Nissa and her nurse rested themselves 
 on the pucka masonry couch at one of the banks of the tank. 
 
 Depression of spirit is often the parent of much mirth, whe- 
 ther real or assumed, though the source of either is so deep and 
 hidden, that to the eye of the strictest observer of physiogno- 
 mical indications, the cause of certain emotions will always 
 remain a mystery, save that, when it is assumed, the buoyancy 
 of spirit has but an evanescent existence, while the real state 
 of feeling invariably asserts its own power, and is indicated by 
 its predominating influence. 
 
 In consonance with these observations, Nissa, when seated 
 at the ghat, entered into conversation with her nurse, the 
 general tendency of which was of a gloomy complexion. 
 
 " The thought very frequently obtrudes itself in my mind, 
 
 Chummon," observed Nissa, addressing her nurse, " that the 
 
 laws of nature and of AlLa are all reversed to favour the claims 
 
 of men, and that women having nothing to do with them, are 
 
 3



 
 ( 18 ) 
 
 excluded from all g 'participation. The sunshine and air of heaven, 
 and the beauties of creation, were, it would seem, all created for 
 the sole use and enjoyment of man, and for him only. All ani- 
 mate existence enjoys as their birthright, the freedom which 
 Mowlah had intended for them, and yet we poor creatures are 
 shut out from sharing them, as if we, above all things, were be- 
 neath the dignity of rational beings, nay, even below the 
 irrational also." 
 
 "My darling child!" replied Chummon, "how could 
 you permit such sharp thoughts to come across your little 
 head, and embitter your life ? Is not my Nissa, the sweetest 
 flower that grows in the garden of her father ? Is she 
 not surrounded with every enjoyment and pleasure that 
 an indulgent parent has with a lavish hand provided, sparing 
 neither trouble, pains, money, nor influence in procuring them 
 for her happiness, and by a parent too who dotes on his child 
 with a depth of affection that can hardly be fathomed ?" 
 
 " That is all very true, Chummon," added Nissa in a sub- 
 dued tone, seeing the solicitude depicted in the countenance of 
 her nurse, " but does not our very nature revolt at the idea, 
 that whilst the animals of the forest, and the birds of the air, 
 enjoy the thrilling delights of freedom, we who are equal with 
 men, and are suitable companions, should be cribbed and con- 
 fined like the turtle to its shell, is a thing that will always be 
 abhorrent to our feelings." 
 
 " My little bird," responded Chummon, " has taken very 
 capricious fancies into her head this evening, and that very 
 suddenly too. What does my Nissa desire ? She who has 
 known no other world, and has been acquainted with no other 
 freedom from her infancy, save the world of her father's house, 
 and the full liberty of roaming within her own extensive resi- 
 dence, why should she aspire after things of which she has no 
 knowledge, and therefore not safe to be longing for the un- 
 known." 
 
 " Oh! Ohummou," cried Nissa, " is not accurate knowledge



 
 ( 19 ) 
 
 of persons and things obtained by personal experience, and 
 from seeing, hearing, and judging for myself? Does not know- 
 ledge expand by freely mixing with society, enquiring for the 
 reasons of things, and finding out the cause, and ascertaining 
 the effect, as also by several other means ?" 
 
 " If there be some advantage," said Chummon, " which men 
 derive from unshackled intercourse with the world, believe me, 
 my darling, there exists a great amount of evil in society, from 
 the contamination of which, my pretty child has been spared, 
 in consequence of her retirement from their destructive and 
 baneful influence." 
 
 " I would rather be acquainted with both the good and the 
 evil," continued Nissa, " which exist in the world, that by com- 
 paring the one with the other, the good might shine with a 
 brighter lustre, and the evil appear still more hideous. Besides 
 which, there is no true merit in a person who is locked up in 
 eeclusion ; who exercises no moral influence, and whatever be 
 the virtuous conduct she might be applauded for by others, she 
 who has never had to battle with temptation, subdue her pro- 
 pensities when they are reprehensible, and restrain her passions, 
 when they are powerfully evoked by circumstance, and every 
 opportunity to break out by fresh incitements which she could 
 have resisted, deserves not the praise that is bestowed on her." 
 
 " We who are so weak and helpless," interrupted Chummon : 
 " so infirm in our resolutions, and so tender in our susceptibili- 
 ties, was it not wise and far-sighted in our Sages and Sires, to 
 adopt such prudent, social rules for our benefit, knowing that 
 in our contest with the rough world to which all our powers 
 are inadequate, and being certain that it would result not only 
 in mortifying defeat, but in our dishonorable conquest ; I say, 
 was it not prudent not to permit the brittle earthen vessels to float 
 down the stream of time along with the hard utensils of brass." 
 
 " As water is the natural element of fishes in which they 
 must live and thrive," exclaimed Nissa with some degree of im- 
 patience, " so men and women are intended to live in the world



 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 and receive the training in the school prepared for the sons aud 
 daughters of Adam by an all-wise Providence. There is an 
 imperative necessity for the good and bad to grow up together, 
 and whatever might be the incidents which are transpiring 
 around us, they are all intended to teach us some lesson, useful 
 to us now or hereafter. Our acquired experience and know- 
 ledge of things and affairs will set them up as beacons on the 
 pathway of life, to warn us, pilgrims, of the dangers that beset 
 our walks, and to direct our wandering and unsteady steps to 
 safe roads in our journey in this world. 
 
 " Does it not strike you, Chummon," said Nissa, " that the 
 lords of the world rank us with the inferior animals of creation ; 
 if not, why are we not receiving education of a higher standard, 
 and why are we prevented from joining in so reasonable a service 
 as going to pray at the musjeed, when the matin and vesper 
 muezzin calls all believers to join in the praises of Allah ? 
 
 " Has the beneficent Being made man with a different nature 
 and constitution, and bestowed on him a more exalted soul than 
 he has given to woman, owing to which that man is made wor- 
 thy to hold intellectual communion with his Maker, and render 
 Him spiritual service, which we cannot, being incapable and 
 falling as it were beneath His notice ?" 
 
 " O, Nissa, you make me very sad with such dark thoughts 
 in which of late you are too often indulging. This spirit of dis- 
 content with the existing state of things about you, will, I fear, 
 not pass unnoticed, but by its frequency invite the attention of 
 your loving father ; it would result in an inquisitive enquiry 
 as to who the person was who had put such novel ideas into 
 the head of his beautiful child, and by it was marring her 
 enjoyments, and making her life burthensome. 
 
 " I cannot solve your doubts, nor answer any of your many 
 questions, but I would advise you to be very cautious before 
 whom you ventilate your numerous surmises, so uncongenial 
 as they are to the manner, modes of thought, and habits of ac- 
 tion, belonging to the creed of your fathers."



 
 ( 21 ) 
 
 It was verging on to midnight when Chummon coaxed the 
 petted child to retire from the ghat, and forget her sad reflections 
 in the arms of sleep. 
 
 Nissa moved away mechanically from the spot, being led by 
 her nurse to the house and to her apartment, where she threw 
 herself on her couch, and with eyes bedewed with tears, she 
 fell asleep, and oblivion spread her mantle over her agony of 
 the past day.



 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 fHE hermit's solitary cell to which Mobaruc frequently 
 resorted either to divert his leisure in pleasing and edifying 
 converse, or in the better amusement of acquiring a knowledge 
 of skifully handling the sctar, now on his visit after his late in- 
 terviews with Nujmoon Nissa, began to evince a moody gloom, 
 which, being an unusual symptom in his general deportment, 
 did not pass unobserved by the attentive aad feeling-hearted 
 Ameerjan. " A cloud," observed the hermit, " that seldom 
 flitted across the brow of my vivacious friend, hangs darkling 
 with its heavy gloom his ever cheerful aspect. 
 
 " If ever Ameerjan has shared thy joys, or partaken of thy 
 sorrows, impart, my friend, the secret of thy pensive looks, and 
 the cause of thy studied taciturnity, for they too deeply affect 
 me with unpleasant dejection." 
 
 " Pardon me, Ameerjan, for I know too well the tender sen- 
 sibility of your heart which never fails to offer sympathy to the 
 afflicted, balm to the lacerated spirit, and the benefit of your ex- 
 perience and valuable counsel to the helpless and the unhappy. 
 
 " It was my purpose in coming here to ask your aid, and 
 obtain your advice in a matter that deeply affects my peace. 
 
 " I would not have hesitated to disclose to you the racking 
 uneasiness of thoughts with which I came burthened, had I 
 known the best method of divulging the sad story. But since 
 you have advanced the point to an issue, nothing remains but a 
 disclosure of the subject. 
 
 " When my evenings were not given to you, my friend, or to 
 your captivating minstrelsy, I passed them generally in riding 
 over the extensive plains contiguous to a half dilapidated man- 
 sion, near the suburbs of Raj Mahul, where unnoticed, I could 
 muse on the frailty of glory, the emptiness of earthly glitter, 
 and the links of indomitable fate which bind our actions to a 
 course from which it can scarcely be diverted.



 
 ( 23 ) 
 
 " But to begin the narration. So unexpected as it was, conceive 
 my surprise when I beheld at the little private garden gate, a 
 being so transcendant, sylph-like, and shrouded in the graces of 
 so much unearthly loveliness. Nujmoon Nissa, or ' Light of the 
 Morning Star,' is the name by which the fair inhabitant of that 
 mansion is designated. Her melting eyes fringed with dark long 
 lashes ; her cheeks suffused with the glow of health, the airy-like 
 form, with innumerable other bewitching graces, conspired to 
 raise in me a feeling of deep respect and love, not to be easily 
 subdued. Her lovely image, her looks, her very movements be- 
 came objects of my solicitude ; and like our own shadows, they 
 pursue and disturb the repose of my mind. 
 
 " I was ill at ease unless I saw her daily, nay every moment of 
 the day if it were possible. 
 
 " I met Nujmoon Nissa frequently and have exchanged vows 
 of eternal fidelity. I feel a secret satisfaction in saying that 
 the proffer of my hand, heart, and fortune, were not rejected by 
 the ' Light of the Star,' or I should rather say, Light of my 
 Soul. 
 
 " I feel also that without her, my life would be a barren 
 gloomy existence not worth cherishing. You, my friend, have 
 now learnt my unhappy predicament, and will readily excuse the 
 gloom that gave you uneasiness." 
 
 " Your case is not hopeless, Mobaruc, for I am admitted into 
 the private divan of the Ex-Nabob, on the praise of whose 
 amiable daughter you have been justly lavish ; and if it be your 
 pleasure, I will be your mosata, or bearer of marriage over- 
 tures." 
 
 " Though I could not propose the task to you, yet as you 
 my friend, voluntarily tender your assistance in your usual kind 
 manner, you could not lay me under greater obligation, or 
 render me a better service." 
 
 " Say no more, Mobaruc. Before the crescent moon fills her 
 disk, I hope to be the messenger of glad tidings to you, my 
 friend, and though adverse fate has persecuted me, and un-



 
 ( 24 ) 
 
 releutingly doomed me to be the most unhappy of mortals, it 
 has not converted me as yet into a morose misanthropist. I 
 am on the contrary, ever devoted to the service of humanity 
 from which alone I reap abundant satisfaction. It is the only 
 antidote to my lacerated heart, to be useful to others. To relieve 
 and ameliorate the condition of my fellow-sufferers in the weary 
 pilgrimage of life, is the only source of joy which I can derive 
 from existence." 
 
 " This, Ameerj an, reminds me of your repeated promises of 
 narrating the history of your incidental life, and it will not 
 only be a proof of your confidence, but a kind return to my un- 
 hesitating candour." 
 
 " To you I owe my unreserved sentiments, and at a more 
 befitting time when I. can make you happy, and see you more 
 cheerful, I will not fail to communicate them, though in doing 
 so, I cannot fail to smart by opening the wound afresh." 
 
 The young Ameer, bidding a cordial adieu to his friend, the 
 hermit, descended from the hills. He gained the road which 
 ran its mazy course over cultivated fields, laden with a rich 
 crop of mustard, linseed, and rice. The new moon glittered 
 like a silver bow on the azure canopy. It was studded with 
 innumerable stars that shed their lustre on the silent repose of 
 creation. The night breeze had also sprung up in slight whis- 
 pers ; it came pregnant with the odour of the scented lime, 
 babool, and champa. 
 
 The breeze gently dallied with the pendant curls of Mobaruc, 
 ruffled the mane of his Arabian, and passed away on their 
 downy wings over ears of corn, agitating them with a soft rustling 
 undulation. 
 
 These were the thoughts which the time and scenery awoke in 
 the mind of the otherwise gay equestrian. " What serenity ! 
 What harmony dwells in the firmament above ! What profound 
 soothing repose ! The moon and the stars are wrapped in a 
 heavenly beam of refulgence, and their aspects present for ever 
 an undisturbed tranquillity ! Though their eyes nightly witness a



 
 ( 25 ) 
 
 thousand revolting scenes, fraught with rapine, murder, treachery, 
 ingratitude, still they remain unaffected, and no tears drench 
 their brow, nor passions agitate the calm of their bosom. Flowers 
 which beautifully adorn the face of nature, bloom cheerfully 
 and emit a constant fragrant incense to heaven, while their 
 expiring breath is a sweet sigh of gratitude. Man is the only 
 vile being who degrades his birth by becoming a dupe to his 
 passions, instead of making them and every thing else, subser- 
 vient to his rising in the scale of beings and by indefatigable 
 devotion to all laudable undertakings rising to an atmosphere 
 of purity. Why have we the will to do, if the faculty, the 
 power of execution is not at our command ? Surely there is a 
 wreck of innate goodness which was a primitive boon with our 
 creation. 
 
 Nature is a divine volume replete with instructions, and he 
 who attentively peruses her pages, will learn much of himself, 
 and much of that mighty Being who presides over the glorious 
 fabric he has created and vivifies with his constant presence. 
 Oh ! for the wings of a seraph, that I might soar to regions 
 where eternal calm, unvarying harmony, and unchanging love, 
 abandoning the earth on which perpetual tumult and sedition 
 dwell, have taken up their constant habitation in a region of 
 eternal peace and love."



 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 the neighbourhood of Raj Mahul there are dense jungles 
 which wildly luxuriate in their pristine glens, sheltering 
 venomous reptiles and other animals, as also the more fero- 
 cious tenants as the mouarchs of the woods. From hence the 
 undaunted tiger freely roams abroad, visiting the adjacent 
 villages in his prowls, and occasionally making sad ravages 
 among men, women, children, and the domesticated breed. 
 Shecaries who earn their livelihood by giving intimation, and 
 serving as guides to sportsmen, are ever vigilant in learning the 
 rendezvous of the tiger. Though they o/ten go and craftily 
 perch on some trees from whence they direct their envenomed 
 shaft at the breast of such foes, yet when a better remuneration 
 is expected by announcing it to the omrao, they will not fail to 
 secure that reward. 
 
 Tigers, either to shake off the drowsy sensation of repletion, 
 or as exercise to digest their meal, are in the habit of 
 stretching their length and scratching the bark of trees, 
 and by it the traces of the animal are discovered. Shecaries 
 by this means easily capture them and possessing the jaws, nails, 
 coats of leopards and tigers, they dispose of them for a small 
 amount to such as would pass for a sheerkha, who collect them as 
 trophies of their reckless valour. Selling also to such other 
 credulous old people as believe in the medicinal virtue of hair, 
 tooth, and claws. 
 
 Prince Sujah to whom the s/tccaries conveyed intelligence 
 of some recent depredation made by tigers, circulated a pro- 
 clamation to the Ameers of his court, to be ready before 
 dawn, to join him on a hunting excursion. When the morn- 
 ing began to peep through the east, one or another of the 
 Ameers began to throng the court-yard of the palace. Prince 
 Sujah descended the flight of steps, and gracefully received the 
 salutation and good wishes of the nobles, then mounted his huge 
 elephant.



 
 ( 27 ) 
 
 The stately animal was painted on the body, and covered with 
 a rich crimson velvet, ornamented with gold work. The howdah 
 was surmounted with silver, and the instrument with which the 
 mnhoot guided him, was of the same metal, but solid. The throng 
 slowly moved through one of the roads of Raj Mahul, which led 
 to a field situate at the distance of five miles. From thence they 
 proposed setting out after games. When a prince intends mak- 
 ing a move in any direction, news circulates as fast as the wind. 
 Distant villages through which he would have to pass, were long 
 awake before the cavalcade had stirred from the palace, and were 
 all impatient with expectation. 
 
 Some ran to and fro, some walked out to the distance of a 
 mile to meet him, others through imbecility of age, were content 
 to remain at their doors, smoking away their impatience, and 
 chatting with the idle saunterers. Children clapped their little 
 hands with rapture, and shouted with exultation, though far 
 from knowing the nature or extent of fun and frolic they 
 anticipated. Young men and virgins posted themselves before 
 their doors, slightly kept ajar, or stood before Venetians partially 
 lifted. 
 
 Peerbux, adecrepid old man, who was placed on the pension 
 establishment of the Prince, and who had devoted the prime of his 
 life to the service of his beneficent master as an industrious, 
 faithful adherent, also left his warm comfortable bed, and sat 
 himself by his gate with his old partner, who, by her gossip and 
 garrulity, kept him from dozing under the somnifio influence of 
 the cool morning breeze. 
 
 " Well, Peerbux," said the woman to her husband, " this is 
 enough to try the patience of our holy Prophet. It is an hour 
 since the bustle began on the road by the vagabonds, still no- 
 thing is in sight. It has deprived us of our rest two hours before 
 our usual time to stir out, yet the Prince and his retinue are 
 not in sight." 
 
 " Why, Grolaub, since we are awake, it matters not if 
 we pass our time in gazing at the procession of the Prince, or



 
 at the animated bustle of men. The unrestrained conversation 
 of the latter, with its merriments, might be more amusing." 
 
 A fresh simultaneous shout of lads, and the appearance of 
 some assaburdars and sotaburdars, announced the approach of the 
 Prince. The stately elephants of Sujah, soon after, burst into 
 view, refulgent with the dazzle of gold and silver. Next follow- 
 ed the no less showy animals of the Ameers, and lastly a number 
 of men bearing glittering spears. 
 
 All the while that the men were passing in procession, the 
 loquacious old wife of Peerbux remained silently gazing with awe 
 and wonderment, but so soon as they had gone to some distance, 
 she resumed her chat. " How is it, Peerbux, that those handsome 
 and opulent young men do not know how to spend their time 
 better than in risking their sweet lives in hunting wild animals, as 
 if they had no servants or shecarics to send out to destroy them ?" 
 
 " The children of the great," observed the husband, " whose 
 future lives will some time or another be exposed to the hard- 
 ships of warfare, are brought up to these manly sports, in order 
 to exercise their valour and skill in attack and defence. These 
 sports prepare them in some measure to contend with the more 
 inveterate foes of their country. It is to their valour and 
 intrepidity that we owe the peaceful enjoyment of our hearths 
 and lives. They are the best bulwarks of our city ; in times of 
 need and emergency, they withstand the furious rush of our 
 enemies, and repel every unjust foreign aggression." 
 
 Prince Sujah, during the course of his journey, addressed his 
 followers with the following conversation in his usual affable 
 manner : 
 
 " An opportunity for attending these diversions is seldom 
 lost by Shufteralli. Are his wounds so thoroughly healed as 
 to make him forget his recent encounter ?" 
 
 " It is the presence of my Prince," replied the sturdy Shuf- 
 teralli, " that invigorates his servant, and makes him willing to 
 endure every trouble and face danger, provided that he has the 
 pleasure of being nigh his protection."



 
 ( 29 ) 
 
 *' Are you also with us, Mobaruc, leaving the merry tones of 
 you setar to silent neglect, and exchanging it for the dissonant 
 growl and roar of wild beasts ?" 
 
 " My Prince has a prior claim on my devotion, and when 
 better employments do not engage my time, trifles may relieve 
 cnnni, though my Prince may remember that on the last 
 scuffle with our enemies, I played more music with my shumshere 
 then my setar." 
 
 " I acknowledge thy merit, thy zeal, Mobaruc ; may the 
 continuance of thy fidelity ever earn for thee as hitherto, the 
 grateful acknowledgment of thy friend and protector." 
 
 The riders had arrived at the jungle. Shecaries and spear- 
 men filed off, a portion to the right, and another to the left, 
 forming an extensive crescent within which it was intended to 
 drive the game. 
 
 On entering the forest which was dense, dark, and tangled, 
 each individual felt a queer dread at the awful silence and 
 solemnity of the place. It was so much so, that were a pin to 
 drop, it could be heard distinctly ; the sense of hearing became 
 exceedingly acute from apprehension. It was all ear and eye. 
 
 Trees of a slender make which opposed the progress of the 
 gigantic animals, were easily broken down. 
 
 Elephants are very sagacious, and they have an instinctive 
 dread of their formidable opponents, and this was evinced by 
 their knowledge of their presence, indicated by a dead halt at 
 places where the tiger had rested. 
 
 There they paw the ground, strike their trunks, and blow 
 through their proboscis a sound not unlike the blast of a horn. 
 
 A nullali overrun with sedges and matted with lilies, lotus, and 
 other aquatic plants, was soon crossed over, and on the opposite 
 bank, three immense wild buffaloes were seen to wallow in the 
 shallow stream. 
 
 They arose irritated at the interruption to their amusement, 
 and with a loud bellow, a wild toss of their horns tangled with 
 weeds, they made a furious rush at the elephants. These withstood



 
 ( 30 ) 
 
 the charge, while from their backs, from the arms of the Ameers, 
 flew a dozen well aimed spears. Soon followed a few whistling 
 bullets which were lodged in their foreheads. The brutes 
 staggered a few paces, and fell one after another with a great 
 splash. The elephants, who were not mere idle spectators, 
 trampled and put a period to their existence. 
 
 A few deer, which the well exercised archery of the nobles 
 added to their game, concluded the first day's sport. 
 
 The party came up on the following morning, to an open space 
 overgrown with high cassia grass. Tfre hunters spied in it 
 two noble tigers, feasting on some carcass which lay near them. 
 The ferocious beast which was about sixty yards off, erecting 
 himself in the power of his might, and placing his paws over the 
 work of destruction, sent forth a hideous growl which resounded 
 fearfully through the circumambient forest : his eyes were 
 glowing like balls of fire ; his ears standing erect, and his 
 looks threatening defiance to the unwelcome intruders. 
 
 " Here is sport my men," said the Prince, " such as we 
 seldom come across. Keep the space clear on the front fall 
 back with your animals a little more to the right and left, so as 
 to prevent their escape. Meer Sufteralli, your elephant is too 
 near the heels of mine ; pray keep back a little for the play of 
 each animal." 
 
 The Prince advanced a few paces his glittering barb whist- 
 led in the air for a moment and then was buried deep on the 
 back of his brindled enemy. The infuriated brute gave a 
 dreadful howl that reverberated through the forest, and not 
 heeding the fragile reed quivering at his side, came 'bouncing 
 onward. After a momentary halt, he made a spring on the 
 Prince, before the Prince could have time to aim another winged 
 shaft of death. Mobaruc, who was all the while a silent but 
 impatient spectator of the scene, aimed his ready arrow at the 
 glarinf eye of the tiger, where it remained transfixed. The 
 wounded beast fell back with a howl, bit the arrow at his side 
 to fragments, and snapped the other in two-



 
 ( 31 ) 
 
 Foiled in his purpose, and furious with rage and pain, he 
 rushed with a mad, yet instinctive fury, at the Prince's elephant 
 from whence he had received the first attack. There he fixed 
 his claws and made a deep wound. The lacerated animal 
 who could not easily shake off the tiger, nor extricate himself 
 from the jaws and claws of his desperate foe, was in jeopardy, 
 as the Prince felt himself placed in the same predicament, being 
 unable to use his weapon with effect, from the rolling of the 
 animals which threatened every moment to dislodge him. 
 
 Mobaruc leaped down instantly from his hoicdah with his true 
 Persian sabre of approved steel, grasped in one hand, while the 
 other held a well charged pistol. "With the former he made a 
 deep cut in the spine, and the ball of the latter which had pe- 
 netrated the heart of the monster, laid him dead at the feet of 
 Mobaruc. All this was performed within a short time. The 
 other tiger was despatched with greater ease and facility. 
 
 During the afternoon, they met with another tiger, besides 
 three leopards. They gave them some sport, as the Ameers' 
 elephants, and the Omras themselves took back tokens of their 
 fury. 
 
 The scars were not soon effaced nor forgotten. It afforded a 
 subject for conversation and matter for congratulation for a long 
 time to the individuals who had taken a prominent part in the 
 adventurous exploit. The rage for the chase being appeased on 
 the third day, they returned to Raj Mahul laden with trophies. 
 The Prince distinguished Mobaruc with fresh marks of favour. 
 The other Ameers were also noticed with tokens of satisfaction, 
 for the display of valour and intrepid conduct of which the hunt 
 gave abundant proofs.



 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 the animated bustle of the chase occupied the time 
 of Mobaruc, his faithful and devoted friend, the Hermit, 
 failed not to obtain an interview with the venerable nobleman. 
 
 On entering his diwan-khana the parent of the lovely 
 Nujmoon Nissa lay reclined on a Persian carpet, with one arm 
 resting on a velvet pillow, holding to his mouth the point of 
 the snake of his hookah which was made of pure silver, orna- 
 mented with flowers of gold leaves and buds formed of emeralds 
 and rubies. He was inhaling from the tube a delicious smoke, 
 which curled above in circling volumes, perfuming the whole 
 apartment with the richly scented tobacco of Persia. 
 
 " I salute thee, Ameer," said the Hermit, " with peace and 
 length of days to thee and thine." 
 
 " Ah ! is that Ameerjan that my eyes behold ! He is as 
 rarely to be seen as the flowers of our fig tree, and therefore do 
 I doubt the accuracy of my vision. But whither have thy steps 
 so long wandered, and from whence comest thou ?" 
 
 " Be assured, Ameer, that I am present with my body, and 
 that I come from my humble cell from whence I had never 
 ceased remembering thee in my daily orisons." 
 
 " Thanks to thee, Ameerjan ; thy acts are always in union 
 with thy appellation. If no generous deeds had marked thy 
 conduct, thou wouldst not have been distinguished with the 
 favourable designation of the " noble heart." But to what chance 
 do I owe the pleasure of thy kind and agreeable visit ?" 
 
 " One lovely flower which blooms in the seclusion of your 
 garden, and will some time or other require the society of a man 
 who can duly appreciate her value, and would cherish and 
 protect her with fond solicitude, such a man, while your eyes 
 are open, will be your highest prudence to select." 
 
 " Alas ! Ameerjan, those are the very thoughts which seri- 
 ously occupy my anxious mind ; but seldom or never do I go out



 
 ( 33 ) 
 
 now and mix with society ; I have therefore little opportunity 
 for learning the temper and qualities that constitute a good 
 character in a husband, so as to make choice of one.' ' 
 
 " Of all the gay youths of the Court of our Prince (may his 
 shadow never decrease, nor his star decline), I can point out one 
 who is the brightest of them all, and will answer your highest 
 expectation. The name, Mobaruo, with whose fame all Eaj- 
 Mahul is ringing, might have reached your ear ere this. 
 
 " In the field, in chase, in archery, or in musical talents, few 
 will excel him. He is elegant in person, as he is mild in dis- 
 position. His attachment to the person of the Prince, and his 
 general merit, have raised him to a post of distinction, aspired 
 at by most, but attained by few. His affability, candour, and 
 benevolent spirit, have won him the good opinion of all, and 
 the friendship of many. Educated under the tuition of learned 
 moulvies, he is versed in the Persian, Arabic, and Toorky 
 languages, and from a natural taste for ornamental studies, 
 he has acquired many refined accomplishments. 
 
 " He has recently come into possession of a large property 
 bequeathed to him by his parent. Not given to an extravagant 
 waste, either in sinking debauchery, or any of the frivolous in- 
 dulgences which young people are in the habit of, a portion is ap- 
 propriated to the wants of the indigent, the education and enligh- 
 tenment of the poor classes, and in works of public utility. The 
 source from whence those bounties flow, is, however, modestly 
 concealed under the appellation of, " a friend to the poor !" Such 
 then is the man whom I strongly recommend to your favourable 
 notice." 
 
 " The person," observed the nobleman, " who possesses those 
 exalted virtues, lofty endowments, and is at the same time the 
 object of the encomium of Ameerjaun, cannot be a man on whom 
 my choice could be misplaced." 
 
 The hermit saluting him courteously, retired, pleased with 
 himself at having succeeded to his satisfaction in bringing to- 
 gether the fortunes of two of the most deserving beings, whom 
 5



 
 ( 34 ) 
 
 perhaps the caprice of fate, or the unreasonable severity of 
 parents, migh have separated for ever. 
 
 He was pleased that he could now be the messenger of 
 happy news, and be enabled to witness the rapture that would 
 brighten the countenance of his much esteemed Mobaruo. 
 
 It would be as a drop of sweet in his bitter cup of woes, an 
 emerald isle, a silver stream in the Sahara of his life, sustaining 
 his fainting spirit with the reviving draught of the one, and 
 giving repose to his weary limbs on the other. Such satis- 
 faction, and ecstacy of joy, an approving conscience invariably 
 bestows on virtuous acts and works of benevolence. 
 
 His hermitage presented now a more cheerful aspect of com- 
 fort than it did before. 
 
 As he was wiping off the dust from the sitar which lay suspen- 
 ded at a corner of the cot, intending to handle and once more 
 draw forth its melody which was chained up so long in silence, 
 Mobaruc greeted him with an affectionate filial embrace. 
 
 " I hesitate," said Mobaruc, " to interrogate you regarding 
 the result of your visit to the nobleman, for by one breath, you 
 might kill or bid me live." 
 
 " Nay, impatient Mobaruc, you are an ill decipherer of 
 physiognomy. Do you behold aught in my countenance that 
 portends a withering blast ? Not to keep you in suspense, 
 know then that the father of your beloved Nujmoon is disposed 
 to bestow her fair hand to a kind, gentle, and virtuous man, 
 and if such you believe yourself to be, then you are the person 
 to whom the promise has been given." 
 
 " How can I thank you adequately, or express the unutterable 
 emotions of gratitude. I will owe you the best part of my 
 happiness. You have delivered me from utter ruin to which the 
 torment, the agony of feelings, would have inevitably con- 
 signed me." 
 
 " In serving you Mobaruc, in promoting your welfare, I am as 
 much a gainer as yourself, for I have always participated in all 
 your sorrows, and hope now to share your joys."



 
 ( 35 ) 
 
 The preliminaries being adjusted to the satisfaction of all 
 parties concerned in the interesting transaction, the first moon 
 of the following mouth was selected, as being the most propitious 
 time for the celebration of the nuptials of Mobaruc and Nuj- 
 moon Nissa.



 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 fHE intended celebration of the wedding being generally 
 ^ . known, it gave work and occupation to the hands of the 
 bazar men for several days. All classes of artisans had sufficient 
 employment during the revolution of a month. The old huhchy 
 had to tax his ingenuity in the invention of sweetmeats of all 
 colours, shapes, and niceness. Goolsazes were busy in painting 
 transparencies for the gates, garden, and naobutkhana, to 
 suspend coloured lights arranged with fanciful design. 
 
 During the lugun, a time of merriment, the mansion of the 
 Ameer rang for several days with songs of mirth and bustle of 
 occupation. 
 
 From different quarters of the city, the Ameers who came 
 daily to pay their devoirs, were received courteously and with 
 cordial welcome. Itur and rosewater were brought into 
 requisition as often as a new guest entered the divan. Beetel 
 leaves folded in triangular forms and spiced and scented, were 
 offered to each visitor on rich golden salvers, while cool, 
 fragrant shurbets were handed to such of them as ceased to 
 masticate the former. Some were taken up in a mere idle 
 manner in extracting a luxurious treat from costly tuberous 
 penchwans. Ameers were entertained with a delectable repast of 
 polao, cullia, cofta, and a libation from goblets glittering with 
 the famed wine of Sheraz ; while, for several days, thousands 
 of the poor bore away their moiety of khitchery and pice. 
 
 Some tyfaas of celebrated dancing girls, of exquisite sym- 
 metry and grace, were engaged to afford a change of amuse- 
 ment to the Omraos, by the fascinating witchery of their 
 evolutions. As one or another was touched with the dulcet 
 melody of their voice, or the admirable execution of some difficult 
 parts of the dance, they flung pieces of asshurfees, shawls, and 
 rings, as tokens of their approbation, or with a view to evince 
 the bounty, generosity, or affluence of the respective donors.



 
 ( 37 ) 
 
 Naolut-khanahs, which glittered with ornamental works, 
 contributed in no small degree to exhilarate the languor of 
 satiety by pouring occasionally a deafening noise from the 
 nnccdrra, tasha, murpha, robab, duf, roshunchoivky ; but of all 
 the instruments, the latter only gave a faint idea of melody, 
 though the rest were barbarous dissonance, yet harmony to ears 
 attuned to their jarring discord. 
 
 The happy day at last arrived. The road was lined with 
 men on either side, who bore over their heads artificial flower 
 gardens, or held on their hands, imitation chandeliers. Camels 
 and elephants carried bands of gaily dressed musicians. 
 
 Next to them were two elephants on which were seated a 
 couple of respectable looking men, of tried integrity, who had the 
 duty of distributing charity on this occasion of universal joy. 
 
 They did so by thrusting their hands into spacious bags, and 
 lifting up a handful of rupees, scattered them on the way for a 
 free scramble among beggars. 
 
 The bridegroom was sumptuously attired and mounted on 
 his favourite charger. Over it was held a large beautiful silk 
 umbrella, having a silver handle, and pearls pendant from the 
 top. 
 
 Elephants and horses, differently accoutred with ornaments, 
 manifested the opulence, or dignity of the several equestrians 
 who escorted the bridegroom. 
 
 After these, appeared the very rich palkee of the bride, half 
 concealed by a velvet covering to prevent the inquisitive gaze of 
 idle strollers, and escorted by assaburdars, chobdars, and sotah- 
 burdars. 
 
 She was attended by vehicles which conveyed her friends 
 and relatives. The rear was occupied by the dependants 
 of the Ameers, and by a promiscuous crowd attracted by the 
 rich and diversified pageantry which a great man's wedding 
 invariably promises, also by the curious procession of grandeur 
 and comicality which are the inseparable accompaniments of 
 ceremonies of the kind.



 
 ( 38 ) 
 
 On entering the premises, Mobaruc was surprised to see his 
 friend Ameerjan dressed in the habille of a Cazi, and ready 
 with other muUas to solemnize the ceremony by reading passages 
 from the Koran adapted for the occasion, and articles of marriage 
 written in the Culma. The Cazi on learning that the parties 
 mutually consented to the union, celebrated their nuptials with 
 due formality. 
 
 Thus having finished what the anxious heart of the Hermit 
 most desired, he partook unceremoniously of refreshments, and 
 accepted other marks of civility with which Mobaruc loaded 
 him. A cheerfulness mantled the face of his friend, to witness 
 which was gratifying to Mobaruc. 
 
 The stream of time bore away days and months rapidly, but 
 they were passed by them with delight, enhanced by the agree- 
 able society of each other who entertained reciprocal esteem. 
 As Nujmoon was above the ordinary class of society, the culti- 
 vation of her mind was not neglected. She could therefore 
 converse with intelligence on most topics, and give fresh interest 
 and pathos by the delicate language in which she dressed her 
 thoughts. 
 
 Every day augmented the felicity of Mobaruo, as he ex- 
 perienced the many blessings which attended the steps of con- 
 nubial life. He found in it many secret sources through 
 which copious streams of joy, not to be found in any other 
 condition so complete and so full, ran refreshing his inmost 
 soul. , 
 
 If his mind was agitated by any disturbing passion, or his 
 heart throbbed with anxiety, her company and conversation had 
 power to lull or dispel them. 
 
 Before her enlivening smiles, every gloomy thought fled that 
 marred the brightness of his countenance ; and in the sunshine 
 of her cheerfulness and vivacity, he could not but enjoy what he 
 imbibed the gay humour of her buoyant spirit. Every idle 
 pastime abroad was totally abandoned for the more rational and 
 pure delights of a home enlivened by the engaging deportment



 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 of her who presided over his domestic comforts, as their sole 
 sacred guardian : and to her it was that he owed his entire 
 reformation from every irregularity of youth. 
 
 "Within the space of two years she gave him as many children, 
 the pledges of love and faithful affection. The boy bore some 
 resemblance to the mother, the girl had a striking appearance 
 that reflected the father's image, yet both were as beautiful 
 and lovely as cherubs. 
 
 The Hermit frequently visited Mobaruc, finding great plea- 
 sure in his society and that of the little innocent children. Their 
 early lispings, and endearing manners, afforded him a calm de- 
 light, and inspired the faded heart of Ameerjan with a sweet 
 sensation of joy and benevolence. 
 
 As the children were growing up, he took great interest in 
 their education and welfare. He paid great attention to the 
 growth of their young ideas, entered into their infantile sports 
 with as much hilarity as if he were one of them, and participated 
 in their evanescent grief with much sympathy. His melancholy 
 face glowed with pride and joy, when, as the beautiful infants 
 climbed up his knees to snatch a kiss, their parent taught them 
 to respect and love him as their second bapjan. Now that the 
 garden of Mobaruc was trimmed and kept under greater care 
 than before, flowers of a variety of species and genus bloomed 
 in their freshness ; while every plant dressed in its vivid green, 
 made it a desirable spot for the scene of their evening re- 
 creation. 
 
 Here the setar was resorted to when topics of exhilarating 
 conversation lagged, and in its whispers of melody, the hearts 
 of Mobaruc and Ameerjaun were steeped in a melancholy joy, 
 more easily felt than described. 
 
 Mobaruc took this opportunity of addressing his friend on 
 the subject of the history of his life. 
 
 " I have," observed Mobaruc, " no thought, no wish which 
 you are not made acquainted with ; no schemes laid, no plans 
 proposed without first consulting you ; in justice then to my



 
 ( 40 ) 
 
 perfect unreserve, you should oblige me with a recital of your 
 adventures without further hesitation." 
 
 " To the want of sufficient confidence, I hope you, my friend, 
 will not attribute my not having sooner made you the depository 
 of my secret ; and give no unfair interpretation to my studied 
 silence on that subject for so long a period. 
 
 " As the season has, however, arrived in which I purposed to 
 narrate to you the particulars of my sad history, I will no 
 longer delay indulging you with the narration, leaving you to 
 judge whether I could at all times take a ready pleasure in its 
 publication. 
 
 " If I now do so, it is only because I can better support the 
 agony of their reminiscence, surrounded as I am with the smiles 
 of your children, your own happy looks, and the sympathy of 
 your tender heart. 
 
 " The evening being far advanced, and as I should not be able 
 to bring the theme to a conclusion, you will kindly have a little 
 more patience in waiting till I pay you my next visit, which I 
 will endeavour to make earlier than usual, in order to gratify 
 your curiosity, or rather your friendly solicitude."



 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 wAS born in that land where the sky is almost always 
 unclouded ; where the sun sets in unrivalled glory, im- 
 buing the firmament with a rich variety of tints ; where birds 
 of gold and emerald plumage, both adorn her groves, and make 
 her vallies resound to their songs of joy, and the most rare and 
 delicious fruits and plants vegetate in lavish profusion, without 
 much care of tillage, or a laborious irrigation. 
 
 It was the lovely city of Phars, whose fragrant air my infant 
 breath first drew ; whose clime matured my feelings, and moul- 
 ded them to an intense degree of tender sensibility. 
 
 A brother and myself, were the only surviving children of my 
 father, who �a.smosaheb,-OT aide-de-camp to Sultan Nadir Shah. 
 
 Nadir vindicated the independence of his country, but his 
 conquering arm which gave no respite to his subjects, involved 
 them in frequent broils, and allowed them no leisure to taste 
 the advantages of peace. 
 
 My brother and I were the admiration of our country for our 
 graceful horsemanship, and expert use of the bow. 
 
 My brother was reckoned one of the best poets of the place. 
 
 So great was the love of my father for truth, probity, and 
 candour, that all the intercession of my brother and mother, 
 could not at one time divert him from his inexorable purpose 
 of giving me a sound correction for denying that I had bro- 
 ken one of his valuable pipes, although I have often been guilty 
 of greater damages done to most costly mirrors and vases, and 
 have escaped punishment by merely acknowledging my fault. 
 
 A proud, haughty, and opulent nobleman, who had a daughter 
 of exquisite beauty, lived near my father's residence. 
 
 We as children were suffered to play for years together with- 
 out interruption. She was about my age, or a year or two 
 younger. I could not have been more than seven or eight 
 years old at that time. 
 6



 
 ( 42 ) 
 
 I found an undefiuable pleasure in her company. "We ran 
 together after the gayest butterflies in the garden, and however 
 difficult the task may have been, or whatever impediment 
 thwarted my eager pursuit, I was sure to surmount it in order 
 to entrap the gay fluttered for my playmate. 
 
 I culled the prettiest and most fragrant flowers and presented 
 them to my Zeleikha, who was always delighted with my early 
 assiduity to please her ; one instance of which, a rather hazar- 
 dous one, I must relate : 
 
 A pretty lotus was seen floating on the surface of a tank in 
 the garden. She clapped her hands with innocent exultation, 
 pointing to me the gay flower bedewed with crystal drops of rain 
 and blushing as if through tears. 
 
 I plunged after it, though ignorant of the art of swimming, 
 but had I even been skilled in the art, it could not have been 
 of any service to me, entangled as I was with weeds. 
 
 The opportune help of the nurse, however, saved me from 
 being drowned, yet not before I had enjoyed enough of soaking, 
 and drinking more water than I had a thirst for. 
 
 I found my play- fellow after my immersion, looking pale and 
 trembling with fear and agitation. Seeing me, however, safe 
 again, tears of joy rolled down her blooming cheeks. She was 
 ever, after this accident, fearful of expressing her admiration of 
 anything in a dangerous place, lest she might involve me a 
 second time in difficulties, but I, who could decipher her wish 
 by the expressive intelligence of her eyes, always gratified her 
 desires as far as they were practicable. 
 
 We reluctantly separated after play-hours, she to retire to 
 her apartment, I to my father's house, thoughtful and unhappy 
 that she and I were not together for ever. 
 
 The hope of seeing her every evening and the pleasure 
 which that would infuse, in a manner reconciled us to every- 
 day separation. We could not long remain as children, nor 
 be allowed to indulge in recreations, however harmless and 
 innocent in their tendency, without infringing the rules and



 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 violating the laws of decorum or custom ; besides, her father, who 
 was absent for some years, returning about that time, exercised 
 the authority with which nature had invested him as a parent, 
 by prohibiting our interviews. 
 
 In conformity with the strict injunctions of her master, her 
 duenna became vigilant in watching my fair Zeleikha. 
 
 Frequently did I visit the garden, whose flowers she out- 
 rivalled, and where she chained my devotion to herself, but, 
 alas ! the Eve of that Paradise was now doomed to pine in the 
 seclusion of her retirement. 
 
 I had a glimpse of her once as she stood before one of the 
 windows waving her hand and looking like an angel from the 
 distant world of spirits to bless my ever-longing eyes. 
 
 She looked pale and wasted, and I could not help shedding 
 many a tear at the visible change I noticed in her appearance. 
 Though her form became indistinct from the dark advance of 
 night, still my eyes were fixed in its direction, and I fancied I 
 had an occasional glimpse of her emerging through the sur- 
 rounding gloom. 
 
 I know not how long I might have remained thus in a sweet 
 delusion, had not the gardener announced the lateness of the 
 hour, and his intention of closing the gate. 
 
 Every other attempt that I made to see or hear of her, 
 proved unsuccessful for some time, and during that period of 
 suspense, you might imagine what must have been the degree 
 of torture I was fated to endure. 
 
 In the mean time, my parent, who had observed a radical 
 change in my demeanour, and was likewise apprised of the 
 attachment which existed between myself and the Ameer's 
 daughter, to divert my mind from the object, procured me a 
 post under Kurreem Khan, one of Nadir's lieutenants, an able 
 chief who triumphed over all his adversaries, and substantiated 
 his claims to the musniid by strength of arms. 
 
 I was deeply engaged for several months in repressing the 
 forays of the rude banditti who shelter themselves in the moun-



 
 ( 44 ) 
 
 tain chain which runs through the kingdom from Armenia to 
 the Persian Gulf. 
 
 Thence sally the marauders who spoil rich plains and attack 
 valuable caravans. 
 
 When their depredations were in some measure suppressed 
 by our troops, I returned to my parent, but not at all cured of 
 my passion, as he had intended and expected, for that on the 
 contrary broke forth with more violence from absence and res- 
 traint. 
 
 I devised every means of effecting an interview, and on this 
 occasion was less unfortunate than I had been for sometime 
 before. 
 
 Gold had power to remove the scruples of the Ameer's de- 
 pendants, as it had sufficient efficacy in withdrawing bolts and 
 bars. 
 
 One happy evening, but why do I recal it ? it was my 
 last day of joy on earth I was admitted into the garden, and 
 to our favourite seat. 
 
 I waited and Zeleikha appeared. She ran to my arms and 
 fainted with mingled emotions of joy, fear, and grief. Oh ! 
 how time had added to her charms ! If she was beautiful 
 when young, how much more lovely when all her graces were 
 developed and matured by years, and increasing refinements of 
 the mind had expanded. Would I not have been content and 
 happy with that precious burthen in my arms, and have 
 been ready to sacrifice life's best treasure to call her mine ? 
 
 She communicated to me the secret instructions her parent 
 had given to two ruffian Toorks in his employ, to destroy me, 
 in the event of their finding me within the walls. 
 
 I drew out my sabre, observing, that the last drop of my 
 blood would be shed to protect her, and that the arm which 
 felled the foes of my country to the ground, would not lie idle 
 to punish the villains who would dare raise their coward wea- 
 pon against an innocent and harmless man. I said everything 
 else to allay her fear, or soothe her grief, but so great was her



 
 ( 45 ) 
 
 apprehension for my safety, that nothing could comfort and 
 compose her mind. 
 
 She lay her sorrowing face on my bosom, and in that posture, 
 with her mild eyes turned upwards, addressed me in her usual 
 mild accent : " Dear Mobaruc, this moment repays me for all 
 my past privation and suffering which I have endured in my 
 rigid confinement. Your prudent circumspection may, at some 
 future period, afford us the means of enjoying each other's 
 society. My parent may relent at witnessing the protracted 
 suffering, the torture he unnecessarily dooms us to without 
 receiving a single token of violation of our fidelity to each 
 other. Promise me, Mobaruc, that for my sake you will 
 not thus expose your life to the mercy of menials, and I will 
 contentedly support any affliction my cruel parent may invent 
 with which to inflict me. The night is far spent, and if I should 
 be missed, it would only aggravate the misery of our situation. 
 I cannot, I must not, delay any longer, if not on my own ac- 
 count, at least on yours ; so remember my entreaties, dear 
 Mobaruc, adieu !" Saying which she gave me an affectionate 
 salute, and extricating herself from my arms, rushed into the 
 building and was seen no more. 
 
 I was led by my conductor to the outer gate from whence 
 my steps led me mechanically to my own residence. I endea- 
 voured on the morning to meet an influential friend who was 
 on terms of intimacy with the proud, haughty Ameer, and 
 who like myself was an officer in the Khan's Cavalry. I dis- 
 closed to him the attachment which had been cemented from 
 early youth between myself and my neighbour's daughter; 
 that the attachment grew and was strengthened with our years ; 
 that she had become to me as part of myself, and therefore 
 without her, existence would be a desolate waste. I asked him 
 the favour of conveying to her parent the honorable intentions 
 I entertained towards Zeleikha. 
 
 He laid my views before the noble, and urged my suit with 
 all the warmth that friendship and esteem could prompt, but he



 
 ( 46 ) 
 
 found him inexorable, and inflexibly bent on his determina- 
 tion, urging as a plea, " that a private gate," alluding to our 
 secret assignation, " was not the most eligible path to obtain, 
 access to his daughter, nor an honorable way to win her con- 
 sent, and that he, who could be guilty of such impropriety, was 
 not worthy of his daughter." His ire rose not from this cir- 
 cumstance alone, for, pointing to a scar across his forehead, he 
 said, " as long as this mark remains indelible, so long will the 
 memory of what has transpired between the father of that youth 
 and myself, remain unforgotten. Bid the young man seek his 
 happiness elsewhere, and if you value my friendship and good 
 opinion, seek not to make any further allusion to the subject 
 which is sufficiently odious to me for more than one reason."



 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HAD gleaned tlie secret by enqairing of my father's 
 old acquaintances and friends, and learnt that 
 during the early youth of my father, his valour and intrepidity in 
 every daring enterprise, while it procured him complete success 
 in all his undertakings, and his merits which secured the admira- 
 tion of his colleagues, provoked the ungenerous envy of his 
 friend to so intense a degree of malice, that he could not rest 
 in peace unless he daily framed and circulated some foul report 
 to asperse and tarnish the unsullied reputation of my father. 
 My father, meeting him in one of his walks in the city, accosted 
 him with resentment, and charged him with spreading invidious 
 insinuations, a base practice unbecoming the dignity of the son of 
 an Omrao. This gave him umbrage, and he placed his hand on 
 the hilt of his sword. My father drew out his sabre. His anta- 
 gonist stoutly defended himself for a time, but as his strength 
 and skill in the use of the sword, was not equal to that of his 
 adversary, he received a deep cut across his forehead, and was in 
 a moment disarmed, and at the mercy of my father, who, wishing 
 to take no further advantage of his victory, left him to resume his 
 walk, after tendering, however, his services to bind his wound, 
 which he disdainfully rejected. 
 
 Alas ! that the man who was himself the cause of the ill 
 usage he had received, should carry his inveteracy so stubborn- 
 ly, and so far, as to make us the innocent unhappy victims of 
 his malice ! How bad must that heart be that can feed an evil 
 vindictive temper for so protracted a period without forgiving 
 or forgetting, or feeling its malignity abate from the influence 
 of time. Two, to us, dreadful long years had revolved, and 
 within their tardy course, the nobleman made several unsuccess- 
 ful attempts to marry his daughter to some Omrao, but one 
 uniform refusal she gave every time when such proposals were 
 made.



 
 ( 48 ) 
 
 As the fame of her beauty was the theme of all Persia, she 
 had a long train of flattering suitors, among whom was a chief 
 in sway of one of the pachalics, dependant on Sultan Nadir 
 Shah. 
 
 Zeleikha made the following answer, as was communicated to 
 me by one of her confidants : ' I am flattered with the notice the 
 chief deigns to take of me, but regret much I cannot make him 
 happy as he merits to be for his temper, disposition, and the many 
 good qualities he is said to possess. My heart has cherished 
 from infancy the image of but one, and to that man my feelings 
 and affections are already wedded, and to give my hand to 
 him, he would marry but a lifeless statue. The Chief, who is 
 known to be as generous as he is humane and discreet, will, as 
 his most prudent action, cease to harass me with his solicitations, 
 for it will be not only useless, as I do not vacillate in my re- 
 solution, but will diminish the good opinion I already entertain 
 of him, and the respect I am disposed to evince. 
 
 Acting in studied opposition to the fond wishes of her parent, 
 he became so exasperated at her stubborn non-compliance that 
 his kindness was wholly withdrawn from her. She was refused 
 every gratification how simple soever, for the sole purpose of 
 breaking down that resolution which she so rigidly main- 
 tained. 
 
 She began to pine under her father's obstinate displeasure, 
 the constant persecution of her suitors, and her hopeless situa- 
 tion. Cheered no longer with a bright prospect of the future, 
 when every day gathered fresh masses of dense dark clouds 
 over the horizon of her once serene existence, her tender spirit 
 shook before the raging blast as the leaf of the cudnia. 
 
 About this time I was again far away to the south of Shiraz 
 on an expedition, and while seated one evening in my tent 
 wearied with my occupations, I had received a message, in- 
 timating that her indisposition was so severe, that several skil- 
 ful hakims, or doctors, despaired of her recovery, and that she 
 was on the verge of dissolution. I was paralyzed with



 
 ( 49 ) 
 
 this sudden unexpected tidings, and I did not know how to 
 act. 
 
 " On recovering the proper use of my bewildered faculties, 
 I ran straight to the commanding officer, and obtained his 
 sanction to go back to the city on very urgent affairs that 
 demanded my immediate presence. The General sanctioned my 
 request, and being mounted, I spurred my animal to a full 
 speed, as if he could in one uninterrupted run traverse the 
 distance from Shiraz, where I was posted on duty at the 
 time. 
 
 " After running some miles, my horse was so completely ex- 
 hausted, that I feared to lose his service in the early part of a 
 long journey. I was forced to dismount and lead him by the 
 reins till we reached one of the inns on the road, as daylight 
 began to spread over the east. Some provender was all I was 
 anxious to secure for my horse, and having done this, I was 
 again ready to start. Thus with scarcely any rest or refresh- 
 ment, I reached my destination within five days. Though 
 expeditious as I could possibly be, I was fated to behold my 
 Zeleikha no more on earth. The morning of the day of my 
 arrival saw her remains laid in a beautiful marble mausoleum, 
 resting unmolested by the ashes of her ancestors. 
 
 " I was left during the frenzy of my grief to hover undisturbed 
 around her remains, watering her tomb with my tears, praying 
 over it, watching, and resting when weary of everything else. 
 It was the only place where my grief flowed copiously and 
 relieved the fever of my brain. I planted cypress and willows 
 round the monument, that they might mourn with me her early 
 unhappy fate. 
 
 " My brother, who was deeply attached to me, won me with 
 his kind persuasive language to visit the roof of my parent. 
 He led me and I returned, but alas ! with what altered feel- 
 ings. I no longer took an interest in pleasure, mirth, friends, 
 relatives, wealth, or property. My father's eyes were bedewed 
 7



 
 with tears at the sight of me as I stood a wreck of all I was 
 before. He spoke to me many a consoling word in the language 
 of sincere affection, and were it possible to heal the wounded 
 spirit, or calm the tumult of my breast, his kindness, if nothing 
 else, ought to have ameliorated my bitter condition. Little did 
 he know of the extent of desolation that had spread itself round 
 my withered heart, and undermined the source of every joy. 
 For months I took pleasure in nothing but visiting the monu- 
 ment of her who was my all. Her tomb was the grave of every- 
 thing dear to me in life, and with her I lost all relish of exis- 
 tence. As time glided away, a deep settled melancholy took 
 possession of my spirit ; and as I could not endure the sight of 
 all those scenes and places which were dear to me in her society, 
 I left my father's home with a resolution to visit foreign lands. 
 
 " In my rambles, I sojourned at Mysore, Bengal, Oude, and 
 Upper Hiudoostan, and volunteered my services to such Maho- 
 medan princes as were harassed with foreign invasion, or the 
 unjust aggression of predatory foes. 
 
 " I fought under Azeem-ul-Omra against the Maharatta power. 
 The marauding Jaats, Bheels, and Thugs, have severally felt the 
 weight of my weapon, nor have Chettoo and Kurreem, chiefs of 
 Pindaree freebooters, escaped receiving a lesson from troops that 
 I had joined, and was one of their leaders. I had received, while 
 at the Court of Mysore, the news of the demise of my father, and 
 of his leaving me and my brother a large bulk of his wealth, 
 reserving the rest for the erection of a superb mosque. But 
 what would the possession of such dross be to me ? Could it bring 
 back one moment of banished joy, a single ray of faded hope, 
 or even a momentary participation of tbat peace I once enjoyed ? 
 
 " I had not the smallest desire to go back to my country ; 
 and of the amusements of war I was weary. As I came out in 
 disguise, I assumed different characters, but the termination of 
 all assumptions is, as you now find, the garb and character of 
 a lowly hermit, who is fast verging on to the confines of another 
 world."



 
 ( 51 ) 
 
 Thus far the hermit continued his narration, when feeling 
 tears fast gathering round his eyes, he lifted his hands to his 
 brow and thus addressed his betrothed : 
 
 " 0, Zeleikha! now that thou art lost to me for ever, what 
 have I to console or comfort me ? Where shall I lay my rack- 
 ing head and weary limbs, and where find repose for the heart 
 withered and rent by grief and sufferings beyond endurance? 
 Still as thou art always present to me in thy ever adored and 
 indelible image, enshrine thyself in my soul which is held 
 sacred to thee from the pollutions of life, that living as thou 
 hast lived in innocence and purity, thy soul may commune 
 with mine, and when the last sleep of life shall have passed 
 away, I may wake to a full vision of thyself, and to the never 
 ceasing joys of Paradise ! Until then adieu, peace, joy, and 
 repose!"



 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 foBABUC was reluctant to disturb the full flow of the 
 __ feelings of his friend, but when he had after a time 
 recovered his composure, he tenderly held him by the hand, 
 and with affectionate anxiety observed : " Yours is indeed a 
 severe affliction, and well may we weep over a tale so fraught 
 with incidents of no common severity and suffering. 
 
 " Your bleeding heart can receive no cure, no consolation from 
 any earthly balm, but faith and hope may yield some fruits 
 of peace. Since regret is unavailing, resign yourself to the fate 
 which Allah has in his wise providence assigned you. Com- 
 fort yourself, my friend, for in me you will find a brother, and 
 in these little ones behold your children. On you now devolves 
 the care of rearing them in the path of virtue ; and to us you 
 will not grudge to give the experience of your age, your agree- 
 able conversation, and prudent counsel. Useful in the sphere 
 allotted to you for your actions, you will look back with no 
 disappointment on a life spent in piety to God, and benevo- 
 lence to mankind/' 
 
 " The human mind," said the Hermit, "is so happily constituted 
 by an all-wise Creator, that it can adapt itself to every exigency, 
 and support every trial to which life is exposed. Would our 
 calamities, nay our very joys, if to an excessive degree stimu- 
 lated, be supportable, if objects which on every hand arrest our 
 attention, and thoughts to which abstract ideas give existence, 
 had they not diverted our cogitations from one channel into 
 another, and interposed to ameliorate the poignancy of the one, 
 and lessen the excitement of the other ? Could we bear the 
 spectacle of human wreck, seen as it is in the revolting degra- 
 dation to which it is reduced at death, a seeming disappoint- 
 ment of our high aspirations, a frustration of our sanguine



 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 hopes, a mockery of our towering thoughts had riot a ray of 
 hope shone forth from the invisible world to cheer the dreary 
 path, and reveal to the eye of reason, the immortality of our 
 existence, and the eternity of future bliss ? 
 
 " Human life would be indeed a galling burthen if there were 
 no future existence, and no future rewards to recompense ex- 
 pectations that have grown with our growth. 
 
 " This alone supports us under every conflict, and reconciles 
 us to every disappointment, the having the assurance that a 
 few revolutions of the sun will usher us to a state of being, 
 vastly different from that we have quitted, and unite us 
 once more and for ever to friends and relatives from whom we 
 were parted but for a season. 
 
 " Teach these little ones who are parts of yourself, to weave 
 lofty sentiments in the most glowing, elegant, and refined lan- 
 guage, that, according to their noble descent, their education 
 may appear to be of a dignified order of culture, reflecting the 
 brightest glory and the fairest renown on the possessor, and be 
 a pleasing satisfaction to the hearts of the parents. 
 
 " But above all, assist them to raise their virgin thought from 
 the lower objects of the present life. In the contemplation of 
 vast objects, pursued through the ocean of unfathomable space, 
 the insignificancy of the visible and the transient will be 
 made apparent." 
 
 The Hermit occasionally spent some of his remaining days 
 with Mobaruc, and the lovely little cherubs of his friend, whose 
 innocent mirth ever beamed in their eyes ; from whose tongue 
 the sweet word, father, thrilled the heart of the Hermit with 
 a new pulsation of tender solicitude, and lighted up his cloudy 
 brow at times. 
 
 But for them and Mobaruc, his life would have been a condi- 
 tion of unmitigated sorrow. To draw him from the solitude of 
 his hermitage, was an attempt on the part of Mobaruc as fruit- 
 less as extricating a living turtle from its shell. 
 
 He delighted to reside there and indulge himself in conteni-



 
 plating the beauties of nature, and in cherishing the habit of 
 calm spiritual devotion 
 
 It is generally believed, that a person whose life has been 
 spent in a course of uniform austerity, and in total devotion of 
 self at the temple of duty and benevolence; that he who dis- 
 regards personal ease and employs his best energy in penances 
 and mortifications, obtains no small share of the favour of hea- 
 ven; and the very tendency of the employment of his mind 
 and body to holy purposes and pursuits, inherits, it is believed, 
 a degree of purity and perfection bordering on the superhuman, 
 which the vulgar and the ignorant deify, and to which the in- 
 telligent pay respectful homage. 
 
 Thus, Ameerjan's character and habits which strictly corre- 
 gponded with the above requisition constituting a sacred per- 
 sonage in the estimation of the simple, was looked upon with 
 uncommon reverence at first, but after a lapse of years, time 
 that beautifies the dead, gilded his memory with a halo, and 
 enshrined him among the saints, or peers, to be venerated in 
 after ages as the sequel will show.



 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 fHE Hermit, seeing one day a number of men and women 
 ^. setting out on a pilgrimage from the neighbourhood of 
 Raj-ruahul and the adjacent country, his curiosity was power- 
 fully excited to join them, and thereby satisfy his insatiable 
 desire to see Allah's wonderful works of creative power, and loving 
 benevolence. He doubted not they would be amply displayed 
 by travelling to the south through the wild countries which 
 he would have to traverse in going to the shrine at Deoghur, or 
 Buddinath, to which the Hindu devotees' were at the time bend- 
 ing their anxious steps. 
 
 It was not an unusual occurrence that a good number of 
 Hahomedans, whether a hermit, fakir, or tradesman, should be 
 seen at one of .the Hindu festivals : nor did it produce any re- 
 mark from parties belonging to either the one, or the other 
 profession. 
 
 Throughout Hindustan and Bengal, a Mahomedan or Hindu 
 festival generally collects a large concourse of men of all castes 
 and creeds, who sally out to witness the tamashct held by the 
 one, or the other sect. 
 
 Attracted to such places of public gathering, not only for 
 gratifying personal curiosity, or whiling away time with the 
 many gay amusements which such bustling places afford, but 
 a mela, or fair, being invariably held at such times, men jof all 
 countries and classes meet for trade and commerce, if not 
 absolutely for purposes of devotion. 
 
 The Hermit had set out on his journey on a clear pleasant 
 morning in October, in company with two men as his attendants, 
 one of whom carried a carpet and deer skin, a pillow and blan- 
 ket, with other indispensable requisites for the journey, while 
 a groom followed the horse on which the Hermit was mounted.



 
 ( 56 ) 
 
 In those days when no roads were laid to connect one district 
 with another, and no sure footpath, or, if any had existed which 
 was made by the tramp of travellers through the forest in the 
 past year of their pilgrimage, it was soon effaced by the r.apid 
 growth of tropical vegetation, a journey was therefore under- 
 taken, by taking the bearing, or direction in which the temple 
 from the starting point lay. 
 
 On this accouut, the distance to Buddinath lengthened out 
 considerably, persons being under the necessity of going zig-zag 
 through the woods, avoiding a pile of huge boulders in one 
 place, a stream in another quarter, and a rugged difficult ravine 
 in some direction or another. 
 
 These impediments on the path of the mere pleasure-seekers 
 were sources of inpatient annoyance and frequent complaint, 
 and their murmuring voice was heard by the Hermit with some 
 degree of curiosity which craved to know the reason why people 
 started in a journey without calculating the cost, while 
 to his taste and habits, it had diversified sources of absorbing 
 interest, profitable occupation, and pleasurable pastime. 
 
 As Ameerjan usually followed on the wake of the pilgrims, 
 or leisurely moved on the outskirts of the crowd of men, he 
 had ample time to drink deeply of the ever varying beauties 
 of nature, which his poetic mind presented to his fancy in rich 
 fervid colours, and in tints mellowed into supernal softness. 
 
 There have always been a few men among the Mahomedans 
 notably fond of the study of alchemy, mineralogy, and che- 
 mistry, and the Hermit, by the curious collection of stones of 
 every description seen in his grotto, gave convincing evidence 
 of his being a lover, if not a master, of those sciences. 
 
 Attracted by the curious appearance which stones in certain 
 localities bore, some cropping out of the soil, he would dismount 
 and loiter for some time, examining, exploring, or searching 
 after something in their neighbourhood, an employment which 
 his groom, who had not the same talent and appreciation for such 
 insignificant trifles as he designated them, very generously



 
 ( 57 ) 
 
 attributed to occupations of this nature his master's deficiency 
 of brain, and a want of mental equilibrium, repeating to himself, 
 that he must assuredly be a diwana admi, or madman. 
 
 His master, however, had he even known it, would not have 
 cared a straw for what opinion his groom had entertained in his 
 own stolid head ; so long as his propensities were gratified, and his 
 enjoyments were all his own creation, he could afford to be 
 indifferent to what other people might think of him or his pur- 
 suits. He returned after such explorations with exultation when 
 they were successful, and as his knowledge was extensive, 
 and his penetration deep, it was often that he returned from 
 such rambles with an air of profound gratification, exhibiting 
 a bag full of fantastic stones, some stratified, some granular, 
 but most of them thickly impregnated with silver, gold, copper, 
 or led. The country through which he was passing, indicated 
 by igneous eruptions and certain rock, the presence of metal- 
 liferous substances, and that the streams possess auriferous 
 deposits. In his extensive wanderings, he had collected a small 
 store of nuggets and gold dust. 
 
 Whenever the pilgrims halted for the night, the scene 
 became extremely picturesque, lively, and bustling. 
 
 A thousand extempore ovens, dug in the ground, would blaze 
 with faggots, and look like a grand illumination, while the 
 vessels clattered, and the hissing and bubbling of pans 
 made a sort of music in all directions, rather pleasing to the 
 hungry travellers. 
 
 After the fatigues of the march, the opulent had their carpets 
 spread on the ground on which they reclined themselves, smok- 
 ing and chatting so long as their dinner was getting ready ; 
 not so their poorer neighbours, who had to betake themselves 
 to the jungle to collect fuel for culinary purposes, and to keep 
 fire to scare away the wild animals at night. These were 
 seen mounted on branches of trees, some picking sticks on the 
 ground, but all by turns crakiug the dry branches as they were 
 broken or snapped from the trees. 
 8



 
 ( 58 ) 
 
 It happened sometimes that a few ja frees, or pilgrims, went 
 astray from their companions far into the woods, and were 
 attacked by some wild animals who bore the shrieking victim 
 into darker and denser parts of the tangled forest, while the cry 
 of the poor man caused a hasty retreat of the rest, followed by a 
 wild burst of uproar among those who became aware of the 
 depressing tragedy which had happened. 
 
 Almost all men who travel through the territories inhabited 
 by wild animals, provide themselves generally with some wea- 
 pon of defence, such as either a spear, sword, gun, pistol, or 
 even an axe, the latter being an inseporable companion with 
 the"poorest ; it being so, and while one or two men were now and 
 then taken away by a tiger, it also happened that the axe of 
 the woodcutter, with two or three ponderous strokes, inspired 
 by agony of feeling, and the instinct of self preservation, had 
 stunned a bear, a wolf, or a hyena, which was borne to the camp, 
 and the man who had performed the daring feat, more by accident 
 than his own skill, was made for sometime a hero in the camp 
 of the pilgrims. The forest through which the Hermit jour- 
 neyed, was not an unprofitable jungle which yielded nothing 
 that commerce needed, for it was replete with valuable timber 
 for building purposes ; different kinds of woods for cabinet ware; 
 rich with nuts that produced oil ; trees from which shellac, 
 lac-dye, and catechu, were manufactured ; and fruits from which 
 native wine was extracted. 
 
 Here and there, at long intervals, small villages of the 
 wild aboriginal tribes, emerged into sight through luxuriant 
 patches of cane and Indian corn cultivation, and topes of 
 mangoe and jack, under whose shadow hamlets lay embosomed 
 in tranquil repose. 
 
 Troops of Sontals would at times burst into view as they 
 were returning from their usual hunting excursion. Some with 
 a deer tied to a pole, others with hares suspended to a stick, 
 borne on their shoulders, but all equipped with bows and 
 arrows, swords and axes, followed by a pack of hungry, half-



 
 ( 59 ) 
 
 starved hounds, whose value lay not so much in their appear- 
 ance, as the possession of strong hunting instincts, acquired by 
 a course of early and constant training. 
 
 The sixth day of the journey proved to be close, hot, and 
 stifling, and the burning rays of the vertical sun almost scorch- 
 ing ; the forest therefore became so still, that the slightest stir 
 of a leaf, agitated by the spring of a bird from twig to twig, was 
 audible with a distinctness. 
 
 The sun had scarcely drawn away his retiring glories from 
 the eastern sky, when tokens of a northwester appeared in the 
 western horizon, in which direction cumulative clouds sprang 
 up in rapid succession, one over another in ever widening 
 circles ; sounds of awe came in the meantime rumbling deeply 
 with the low sullen murmurs of the elements, the sure presages 
 of a coming storm. 
 
 Eagles and vultures were seen with rapid wings to mount 
 the sky in a spiral flight, as if endeavouring to cleave the 
 heavens, and rise above the conflict of the elements ; and 
 as heralds of the gale, gusts of- wind came rushing over the 
 forest in fitful pulses, bending the summits of trees by their 
 violent blasts, and rocking them like huge, angry billows with 
 deep, awful meanings. 
 
 To this war of the clouds and wind, succeeded the awe-in- 
 spiring sounds which assailed the ear, coming from all quarters 
 of the forest in deep moans and frightful roars of the terror- 
 stricken animals, as they bounded forward with glaring eyes, and 
 mane erect, to avoid the impending danger. 
 
 The rain descended in a torrent, and the wind which had 
 acquired its utmost intensity, snapped the branches, and hurled 
 them down to the ground with a crash, while the roll of thunder, 
 and flashes of lightning, rent the air with their incessant 
 glimmer. 
 
 As if these were not enough of awe-inspiring images, snakes 
 and reptiles, instinctively sought shelter in more elevated 
 localities, rendering the situation of the travellers, not only



 
 hazardous, but extremely unpleasant from the repulsive feelings 
 which it called into existence. 
 
 With a brow fearless and calm, the Hermit stood con- 
 templating the changeful aspect of grandeur and sublimity, 
 Been in the murky sky, or the fitful gloom of the forest ; the 
 electric flash in the clouds, and its deafening peals. 
 
 Though desolation and destruction surrounded him on all 
 sides, his thoughts, full of consciousness of the immortality of 
 its spiritual nature, felt its energy rising proportionate to the 
 emergency of the occasion, so that he could bear to look unmoved 
 at the threatened annihilation which he knew could not reach the 
 soul, but only the temporal tenement which he was inhabit- 
 ing. 
 
 The morning sky succeeding the night of the storm, was 
 peculiarly charming and delicious. It was felt to be cold and 
 refreshing to the body, and cheerful to the mind from the com- 
 bined effect producted by the sweet fragrance of the scented wild 
 flowers ; the fleecy clouds sailing like the ripples of a tranquil 
 lake on whose brow the earliest kiss of the sun reposed, evoking 
 a soft ruddy blush over them as they floated onward in 
 modest silence. The pilgrims were now approaching the out- 
 skirts of the place in which the celebrated temples of Boddheo- 
 nath rose in all the pomp in which the bigotry and superstition 
 of a people who knew no better, had invested them. 
 
 The buzzing of the multitude of the jatrees who were 
 assembled at the place, came floating on the breeze like the 
 distant murmurs of the sea, and it was heard by the Hermit 
 while he was yet at the distance of a few miles. 
 
 The cupolas of the temples, bursting into view above the 
 groves of maugoe and tamarind trees that surrounded them, 
 excited the pilgrims with emotions of joy at the prospect of an 
 early termination to their hardships and privations, and they 
 broke forth into reiterated exclamations of Horibole, Horibole. 
 
 Owing to the undulatory formation of the country, inter- 
 spersed with numerous mounds, streams of the pilgrims could



 
 be seen from the camp to which the Hermit belonged, converg- 
 ing towards the mela from all directions of the wild country, 
 and swelling the circumference and density of the sea of human 
 heads. 
 
 After the lapse of a few hours, the pilgrims from the direction 
 of Rajmahal, had not only arrived, but were in the very vortex 
 of the fair to which all were drawn. 
 
 The sun shining on the minarets and galleries of the temples, 
 reflected them in a blaze of refulgence, while a strange looking 
 stone image within, drew crowds of deluded men and women 
 who prostrated themselves in unprofitable servility before the 
 impotent deity, where offerings of several kinds were being laid 
 before the shrine, to appease the wrath of Boddheonath, obtain 
 his blessing, or make him propitious to their prayer. 
 
 All the votive offerings of the numerous devotees that aug- 
 mented the revenue of the pagodas, also increased the wealth 
 and prosperity of the avaricious priests who presided as their 
 guardians, and the spiritual guides of ignorant men. 
 
 The seductions of vice and error are more potent in their in- 
 fluence than the attractions of truth and virtue ; the Hermit 
 therefore looked with heartfelt regret on the infatuated votaries 
 who appeared absorbed with the idle ceremonies of the place, 
 and who were bewitched with ritualistic observances which 
 had nothing rational about them to commend themselves to 
 their reason, but that they yet had absolute power over their 
 warm imagination, and the senses which always solicited for 
 their gratification things in perfect harmony with the material 
 part of their nature ; while their lethargic and apathetic minds 
 shrunk from the labour of investigating the truth, or yielding 
 to its wholesome and beneficial influence when it became 
 known. 
 
 He was grieved to witness the simplicity of man, or rather 
 the weakness of those who without question, quietly submitted 
 themselves, as well as their reason and judgment, to the 
 control of not only false illusions, but the demeaning sway of



 
 ( 62 ) 
 
 men as fallible as themselves, and who were in some instances 
 not superior in their mental endowments to the infatuated 
 men who stooped to the dust in their presence. 
 
 But he had not come to moralize and to preach, but to see 
 and know all things, and obtain the knowledge that exists in 
 other places, and among other people, though he could not, from 
 the dogmas of his own creed, help looking with supreme horror 
 and abhorrence on all idolatrous practices. 
 
 There was everything about the fair, well calculated to ex- 
 cite a person to a high degree of distraction, bordering upon 
 absolute bewilderment. 
 
 There were jugglers and mountebanks, snake charmers and 
 tight-rope dancers, with their inexhaustible tricks and gabble ; 
 and there were sets of dancing boys, singing amorous ditties 
 lustily, and dancing ravingly to the accompaniment of deafen- 
 ing music : at a short distance from these, were to be seen bear 
 and monkey dance in full activity. 
 
 There was a large gathering of Brahmins and Khettrees, 
 followers of the Musnavi Sect, Byragees, Sunyasees, Mohunts, 
 Jogees, and even the low despised Domes, who were busy in carry- 
 ing on a brisk trade in bamboo-basket, and other kindred works. 
 
 But there was also a few select tyfas, or troupe of dancing girls, 
 with small silver bells fastened to their arms and ankles, which 
 made music, their hands and feet in motion, keeping correct time 
 with the instruments, and dancing with the grace of slow mea- 
 sured steps, and soft oscillations, heightened into excitement, or 
 mellowed into langour as the occasion required by the style in 
 which the tamboor, tablet, saringa, and other soft-toned instru- 
 ments were played upon. 
 
 Booths and tents, with other temporary sheds, made of the 
 branches of trees, formed a spacious bazar, having a walk be- 
 tween lines of shops, numbering more than six hundred, ex- 
 tending in sections over the whole of a large field, beaten down 
 smooth and even by the tramp of the multitude of pilgrims who 
 were attracted to the shrine and mela.



 
 The shops were well-stocked with large quantities of wares 
 of all kinds, and articles of every description, from a trifle, to 
 a rare curiosity, or things of indispensable utility. 
 
 There were many shops in which several bales of English 
 piece goods, cloths, whether silk, tusser, or cotton fabric of 
 Indian manufacture, were laid out ; next to which, in another 
 shop, large quantities of spicery, and then another that exhibi- 
 ted brass utensils intended as water vessels, pots, pans, and 
 lamps, all blazing with a yellow lustre, furnished as they 
 had been for the occasion. 
 
 Confectionary of every shape and of divers colours were 
 arranged in heavy masses on trays of brass ; they looked tempt- 
 ing and inviting, and crowds of merry children stood admiring 
 and casting longing looks, first at one, and then at another of 
 the trays, seemingly undecided which to chose from, but on 
 the whole, they patronized the confection and the Benares toys 
 more largely than any other. 
 
 Great numbers of traders from Calcutta, and from many large 
 towns of India, came with their goods for disposal by sale or 
 exchange, while there were others, men of limited resources, 
 who purchased wares and goods intending to dispose of them in 
 remote parts of the country, and the interior of districts, where 
 they purposed to open out retail business which promised to 
 be very profitable, and of undoubted success, from the mere 
 circumstance that competition in such quarters did not exist. 
 
 Each shop was decorated with some fanciful ensign, or orna- 
 mented according to the taste or opulence of the proprie- 
 tor, intended also as marks to distinguish them from each other, 
 and to guide to the locality those persons who lost themselves 
 in the dense crowd, and recognition of places became a matter 
 of doubt and uncertainty. 
 
 Crowds of religious mendicants were to be seen pushing their 
 way and demanding rather than begging for charity. 
 
 The dialects of most countries of India were spoken, and the 
 jargon and confusion of voices was excessive and from a dis-



 
 ( 64 ) 
 
 tance, the buz was like that which proceeds from a thickly 
 studded wasp hive. 
 
 In the motley crowd, men dressed in every variety of cos- 
 tume, from the rags of a beggar, to the resplendent robes of a 
 native nobleman, served to lend their individual singularity to 
 increase the grotesqueness of the spectacle. 
 
 The Hermit had the good fortune to fall in company with 
 a few travellers who had come on a long journey from the far 
 North, and who appeared to be jaded, weary, and exhausted 
 from protracted travel. 
 
 He was delighted to find that they were men from the border 
 countries of Iran, in Persia; and that they were of the same 
 faith as that which he professed, was easy to discover by a 
 single glance. 
 
 Of these three men who had fallen on his way, one of them, 
 the youngest, was peculiarly delicate in the general outline of his 
 figure, form, and profile ; and appeared to be a young man 
 over whose head not more than twenty-six years had revolved. 
 Though the years of his life were not numerous, yet that they 
 were not altogether pleasant and joyous, but had rather been 
 pregnant with care, anxiety, and gloom, could be easily dis- 
 cerned by a cloud of sadness which was visible on his youthful 
 countenance, and stamped it with the impression that it was 
 the seat of some secret sorrow. 
 
 He differed from his two associates in several points ; they 
 were tall, robust, and somewhat dark from long exposure ; 
 their eyes were black and deep set, yet they shone with in- 
 telligence, unwavering resolution, and a fixedness of purpose 
 from which as if nothing could divert the men. 
 
 The young man though also slightly tinged with a few 
 shades of brown caused by travelling, was on the whole of a 
 light colour. His hair, which fell in soft ringlets over his 
 shoulders, was dark, and his eyes were light- brown, full in 
 their orbs, and they possessed an ever varying expression 
 that heightened their lustre and their beauty.



 
 ( 65 ) 
 
 These men on being questioned by the Hermit as to what 
 object they had in view that could have induced them to under- 
 take so long, laborious, and perilous a journey, replied that it 
 was not only their curiosity to see other countries which 
 compelled them to leave their home to enlist themselves 
 in the service of the emperor of Delhi, or any one of the princes 
 of Hindustan, where their valour and talent, finding proper 
 scope for their exercise, they could distinguish themselves, and 
 by that means secure respectable posts and lucrative employ- 
 ment suitable to their rank and education. 
 
 Some merchants were returning from the mela to Upper 
 Hindustan, and the two elder travellers joined their company 
 with a view to carry out their intention to visit the Court of the 
 emperor. 
 
 The youngest traveller, whose name was Ismail, charmed 
 by the sobriety of the Hermit's character, the extent of his 
 wisdom, the gentleness and affability of his manners, and the 
 prudence of his actions, resolved to follow him as a shdgird, or 
 scholar, while the Hermit bore the appellation of ustad, or 
 teacher. 
 
 The sojourn of a week at the fair had so satiated the Her- 
 init and made him feel so thoroughly tired of the puerilities, 
 the deafening uproar, and the shallow enjoyments of the place, 
 that he began to look back towards Raj-Mahal, and long for the 
 quietude of his retirement at the Pearl Spring, so he started one 
 morning long before dawn, with those only who were his per- 
 sonal attendants, and his newly acquired companion. 
 
 The return trip, now that the path was known familiarly, 
 was comparatively of a shorter duration than before, and the 
 road was enlivened by meeting occasionally with merry groups 
 of men, women, and children, who had preceded them in the 
 walk, so the journey terminated after the expiration of a week, 
 the Hermit being glad to be back to the serenity of his grotto, 
 and its unruffled enjoyment. 
 
 9



 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 fHE Hermit, now that his residence was enlivened by the 
 congenial society of a countryman, did not find time 
 hang so heavily as it did before ; and by frequently conversing 
 with Ismail on topics that had an intimate connection with the 
 city in which he was born, the pent up associations of "years 
 were stirred into lively activity by the chords of memory being 
 touched upon which awakened them, and he began to feel as if 
 his youthful days were renewed, and that he was living again in 
 the midst of bright and familiar scenes in which life to him had 
 been a prolonged sunshine, and every sensation a throb of joy. 
 
 After the expiration of a few weeks, when a good deal of the 
 natural shyness and reserve which had existed at the beginning 
 of their acquaintance, had worn out by an increased familiarity, 
 the Hermit sought further information. 
 
 " I desire very anxiously to know, Ismail," said the Her- 
 mit, " something of the class of free* thinkers, or sceptics, in 
 Persia, who lived, and their sentiments were rapidly spreading 
 through the country when I was about to leave it, if they still 
 exist and are as popular now as they were at that time." 
 
 " Yes, ustad, I remember the class of men to whom you 
 allude," answered Ismail, but he did so with some diffidence, 
 as if not thoroughly conversant with the subject, and afraid 
 that he might therefore commit some blander. 
 
 " I remember the sect very well, as their peculiar dogmas, 
 and the novel views they held, were often made the subject of 
 serious coversation, and were largely commented upon by many 
 persons. 
 
 " They are neither attached to the Soonni, nor Shea sect, and 
 they do not place implicit belief in the doctrines enunciated in 
 the Koran. They not only exist, but most people are tainted 
 * A class of religious sect called Sufi or Sofi.



 
 ( 67 ) 
 
 with their sentiments, whether they avow it publicly or not. 
 Do you not think it to be very wicked conduct in those men 
 who are so zealous in subverting the established faith of the 
 country, ' and marring the tranquillity of the people with their 
 new speculations ?" 
 
 " I do not think, Ismail, that, as rational beings, we are 
 not bound to investigate the merit of every subject, whether 
 it be secular, or religious. When we cease to do so, we 
 lock up the exercise of our own reason and judgment, and 
 yield a blind, and not an intelligent assent to what we profess 
 to believe. 
 
 " Religion is so deeply important to each individual, as on it 
 depends his eternal welfare, or his endless misery, that it be- 
 comes an imperative duty therefore, not to accept one's religion 
 from his forefathers, but to investigate and choose for himself, 
 inasmuch as he, as a moral agent, will be personally responsible 
 for his actions. 
 
 " Allow me to say in conclusion that Allah, who has made the 
 glorious morning and the evening, with the soft moon and the 
 stars that sparkle like gems on the brow of night, made our 
 sentient bodies also, and gave to our minds an immortal flame, 
 that our spirits linked hereafter with the Eternal Spirit who 
 vivifies the whole universe, we might also live for ever in his 
 presence. 
 
 " A Being so wise, so powerful, so good, and having such 
 benevolent designs towards us, could never have left his rational 
 creatures to grope their way in darkness and mortifying un- 
 certainty. 
 
 " God is the moral Governor of the world, and He has therefore 
 furnished his subjects, with moral and divine'laws for regulating 
 their conduct. Man though a rational and intelligent being, is 
 not infallible, and under this circumstance, if he is not provided 
 with definite injunctions, he would be erring perpetually, and 
 from the absence of definite laws, he would plead ignorance for 
 his justification, and make excuses for his guilt.



 
 ( 68 ) 
 
 " I differ, then, from those men in Persia on this point, and 
 would say that we have the strongest reason to expect that God 
 did give to man a written law, and made him amenable to its 
 injunctions. If some doubt its genuineness and authenticity, 
 and the Koran be not the book, yet a revelation must of 
 necessity exist somewhere. He who repudiates the existence 
 of such written laws, indicates the grossness of his desire to 
 live perfectly disengaged from all restraints, and to enjoy an 
 unlimited freedom of action. 
 
 " But I might pain you with my present reflections, and would 
 on that account change the subject by asking, how was it that 
 you did not of your own free accord tell me the reason which 
 brought you to this distant country, while your other compa- 
 nions related to me their reason for doing so with perfect 
 unreserve." 
 
 " I would have done the same, good ustad" observed Ismail, 
 somewhat abashed, not only for the implied want of confidence, 
 but with regard to the quality of the disclosure, " had my reason 
 for leaving my country been of the same complexion as that of 
 my two companions. That which I would have to reveal, was a 
 subject too painful for me to dwell upon, nay, it was intensified 
 agony to think about ; I would yet, that I might not appear 
 unthankful for your kindness and generosity, reveal the secret 
 which lay hid in the depths of my heart for many long weary 
 years. 
 
 " Twelve years ago I was secretly betrothed to a very worthy 
 individual," commenced Ismail with his narrative, in relating 
 which, there was much pathos in the tone, and a perceptible 
 modesty and tenderness in the manner of his delivery, which 
 could not but enlist the sympathy of his friend, the Hermit. 
 
 " The growth of that pure and honest affection, on which 
 God who is the essence of love, and who could never look 
 with disdain, man in his blind arrogance, cruel revenge, and 
 influenced by a sordid spirit, condemned. 
 
 "We were so well known to each other, and our regard which



 
 ( 69 ) 
 
 was mutual, was deep and sincere, because it was based on the 
 thorough appreciation of our respective merits, that no idle 
 rumour, or spiteful detraction, however sedulous to cause a 
 breach, could alienate our affection. 
 
 " A wily plan was adopted, too long to relate at present, and 
 that succeeded in separating us, though nothing else could ; to be 
 brief, I abandoned the place for its being full of duplicity and 
 trickery, and because I could not endure the bitter reflections 
 which had sprung up in my mind, and the numerous sufferings 
 and persecutions to which I was subjected. 
 
 " All that I possessed of worldly wealth and grandeur, I left 
 behind, esteeming them as dross, that I might be as free as 
 the air to wander over more congenial countries, enjoy peace 
 and quietude elsewhere, and meet with men who might be more 
 humane, and in whom I might trace some resemblance to the 
 moral image of their Maker. 
 
 " But go where I might, I cannot divest myself of that which 
 forms an element of my own nature. I bear my own thoughts 
 and feelings wherever I go ; hence if any circumstance should 
 for a brief time divert them, the momentary restraint gives 
 them a greater momentum, and redoubles their power." 
 
 The Hermit, whilst listening to this touching disclosure, 
 seemed wrapped with wild and conflicting thoughts ; his head 
 drooped and he stood in all the magnificence of a faithful figure 
 of despair. 
 
 He who of late years appeared to his friends to bear the 
 calmest exterior, for no trace of human passion disfigured his 
 intellectual brow, or furrowed his tranquil countenance on 
 which rested the serenity that conscious rectitude always pro- 
 duces, was moved to blinding tears, and shaken to the core of 
 his heart, for memory that bore a faithful record of past events, 
 was active in tracing a close and sad resemblance in their des- 
 tinies. 
 
 " I accord to you, good Ismail, my deepest sympathy, and 
 offer you my sincerest condolence," replied the Hermit, with



 
 ( 70 ) 
 
 feelings of earnest pity and compassion, seeing a person so 
 much younger than himself, yet who had borne the strokes of 
 torturing thoughts, commensurate with his own galling ex- 
 perience. 
 
 To offer in a small measure some consolation, poor and 
 inefficacious as it might be, yet which might, he thought, serve 
 to divert him from his brooding cares, and ameliorate the 
 poignancy of his feeling, he spoke thus, addressing Ismail. 
 
 " The good Being who has formed us of clay, while He 
 has given us strong minds, and created us with frail bodies, to 
 compensate us for the deficiency, He has provided with counter- 
 balancing agencies both in nature and in our capacities, making 
 up as it were for the existing difference. 
 
 " Not only that the most severe pain subverts its own power 
 by its intensity, but the very frequency of suffering, which 
 habituates and familiarises us to its infliction, softens the 
 stroke. 
 
 "Not only so, but observe how, as in the physical and social, 
 so in the mental world, all things are subject to the law of re- 
 action. The river has its rising tide, as well as its receding 
 ebb a depressive tendency succeeds the tension of the ner- 
 vous system the wildest conflict of the elements subsides into 
 perfect calm, and to the most vehement grief, there is a certain 
 limit, regulated by constitutional capacity, up to which it will 
 rise, andthen a reaction must supervene. 
 
 " Under this altered circumstance and state of feeling, even a 
 child who is prematurely brought to feel the weight of afflic- 
 tion, is by his suffering and privation, forced to think and act for 
 himself, and to devise plans for his relief, or build glittering 
 castles in the air to soothe the woes of his young heart, and by 
 these circumstances, though a child in years, he becomes mature 
 in mind and feeling, and old for his age in thoughtful actions. 
 
 " But a man of maturer years, who manifests the reverse side 
 of the tension point, rises up to the highest tide of grief and 
 watchful care, but descends to total heedlessness, and to abso-



 
 ( 71 ) 
 
 lute self-abandonment, luxuriating in fun and frolic, commen- 
 surate with the pressure of his former depression. 
 
 " If these be not the indications of his reactionary mood, it is 
 often seen, that the person who suffers most for a certain thing, 
 makes up for the amount of previous suffering by indulging 
 in very opposite propensities ; he loses an angel, but from that 
 thorough abandonment, he does not care afterwards to hug a 
 monster." 
 
 " I admit that time blunts the edge of sorrow, but it never 
 thoroughly eradicates the complaint. According to the worth 
 of the character of a person, so is the memory of the good 
 cherished as a valuable gem in a rich and durable casket," ob- 
 served Ismail, with a pensive expression which indicated, as if 
 nothing could soothe, or which would be a crime for him to 
 study to efface from the page of memory. 
 
 Finding that to border on tender subjects, however remotely, 
 was not calculated to heal but to irritate the wound, the Her- 
 mit willingly dropped it and made no further remarks, but drew 
 away his young friend to read some books which they were in 
 the habit of looking over together. 
 
 The works of the Persian poets engaged their attention more 
 frequently than a production in metaphysical subjects did. 
 The latter was taken up occasionally, but the former oftener, 
 and as it was at the present time. 
 
 In this occupation, as it was his wont, he commented on the 
 merits and demerits of some of the compositions of the poets, 
 adding the following remarks, after the observations which 
 preceded it had closed. 
 
 " Most of our poets are very elaborate in singing the praises 
 of all the gay and brilliant things that adorn the features of 
 nature, or transpire in the chequered scenes of life, but we have 
 veryfew muses of a pensive cast in our Parnassus. 
 
 " The gay things of the world have a sparkling lustre and 
 an attractive charm that admit of no question, but the sad things 
 of life possess a melancholy beauty too, which, if garbed in the



 
 ( 72 ) 
 
 rich and delicate drapery of poesy, would appear most pleasing 
 and captivating by their touching sentimentality. 
 
 " But I forgot that there are one or two isolated instances in 
 which our sweet melodious versifiers, have indulged in pleasing 
 fancies on the topic of grief, but which, however, are happily not 
 mere soarings into the regions of fiction and unreality, but 
 fall within the actualities of life. 
 
 " One for instance, illustrates the character of a good man, 
 by representing him as a towering rock, standing above the 
 sea ; the wind and wave of affliction strike in vain against 
 him, and the cloud and tempest spend their fury to no purpose : 
 his brow is ever calm, bright, and tranquil, above the angry 
 surge, and the cloudy observations below !"



 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ROM the very beginning of their acquaintance, there was a 
 mysterious something which seemed to envelope the cha- 
 racter of Ismail, the Hermit was awakened by it into a new and 
 delicious existence, half on earth, half in dreamland, yet though 
 he sat trying hard to unriddle the enigma, it was far beyond his 
 power to come to a satisfactory solution as to who he was. 
 
 He sent his vigilant thoughts rambling in every direction of 
 surmise, and still he was as remote from the fact as ever. 
 
 There was a softness in Ismail's voice, a gentleness in his man- 
 ners, a tenderness in his demeanour, all which were a puzzle 
 to him, but what added still more to his perplexity ,was, that 
 the tone, mildness, with the expression which flashed forth at 
 times from his countenance and eyes, were as things that came 
 dawning in slight glimmering lights to his mind as remem- 
 brances of some sweet, but hallowed music that had gladdened 
 his heart in earlier, happier days. 
 
 Could he, the Hermit thought, have been a school fellow of 
 his, in whose congenial society he had spent the years of his 
 youth in very pleasant companionship ? But as soon as such 
 reflections visited his mind, he was obliged to abandon them, 
 for he could not think of any school fellow between whom and 
 himself there had existed any marked disparity of years, and 
 such intimate companions, as he had the good fortune to possess, 
 were generally young men of his own age, or older than he, 
 but scarcely any one who was twelve or sixteen years younger. 
 
 These tokens of mystery began to multiply as time ad- 
 vanced in its steady onward course, but though they were 
 fraught with much matter for trying speculations, yet they 
 served to keep the attention of the recluse engaged, and divert- 
 ed the monotonous life he had lived in unrelieved same- 
 ness, before the advent of his couutryman, situated as he was in 
 the solitude of a place seldom frequented by tourists. 
 10



 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 It could not but strike the Hermit as remarkably singular, 
 that Ismail invariably avoided, and never once accompanied 
 him, when he went to the Pearl Spring for his daily ablutions, 
 though he did so in his absence. 
 
 There was scarcely anybody in the vicinity of the spring, for 
 it was not only a secluded spot, but was well screened by brush- 
 wood growing in its neighbourhood, and a network of tangled 
 creepers that thoroughly concealed its locality, therefore, if 
 Ismail, with his singular tastes and habits, had any objection 
 on the point of its being exposed, it could afford him no excuse. 
 
 The Hermit had the misfortune to receive a severe hurt one 
 day, as after his usual bath he was returning from the JJmrna, 
 his right foot, which had trod on one of the many fragments of 
 quartz scattered profusely about the place, slipped, and his 
 ankle had by that accident, received a severe sprain, and was 
 cut with their sharp edge. 
 
 At first there was neither a swelling, nor any sensible pain, 
 but before night had set in, a. painful inflammation came on, 
 accompanied with a burning fever and excessive thirst. 
 
 The recluse had studied the medicinal properties of the 
 plants abounding in the jungle, and had communicated to his 
 friend their virtue and efficacy, and these came very opportunely 
 into valuable service on the present occasion, for it helped to 
 soften the severity of his indisposition. 
 
 Ismail who was powerfully agitated by seeing him suffer, 
 ran with all anxiety to the nearest wood, and collected some 
 roots of the kurhur as a febrifuge, and some mem leaves for an 
 embrocation, returning with them with much haste, he boiled 
 the former to make a decoction, and bruised the latter, and 
 prepared with it a warm poultice. 
 
 No woman could have attended on the patient with greater 
 solicitude, and with so much mild, soothing care; with a fore- 
 stalling of his wants and wishes, and with so deep, sincere, and 
 earnest expression of concern, as was depicted in eloquent 
 language in the sorrowing eyes, and melancholy countenance 
 of Ismail.



 
 ( 75 ) 
 
 He was, with scarcely any relaxation, seated constantly at 
 the foot of his bed, ministering to his wants, and with his as- 
 sumed cheerful conversation, soothing his physical pain, and 
 diffusing a healing balm over his mental sufferings. 
 
 For three days and nights, the Hermit was occasionally 
 delirious, and between a state of half consciousness and partial 
 sleep, he was heard to pronounce, though very softly, the name 
 Zuleikha, at intervals. 
 
 There was surely a spell in that name, or why should it have 
 moved Ismail so profoundly. 
 
 Could it have been that he too had associated with that dear 
 appellation all that was beautiful in form, pleasing in manners, 
 and lovely in the graces of virtue, and to whom he had resigned 
 his heart ? or was it that he grew petulant at the reflection that 
 his friend and benefactor did not sufficiently appreciate his 
 ministrations, but was at that time thinking of softer hands to 
 smooth his pillows, and with far more winning ways, tend on 
 his ruffled temper, now rendered capricious through the power 
 of irritating disease ? 
 
 Ismail sat bathed in tears on hearing that name fall from 
 his lips, fall with the softness of the dew and its reviving 
 influence, as after its descent it reposes on the fragrant bosom of 
 some decaying flower, which, but for that timely refreshing 
 visit of heaven's distillation, might have faded for ever under 
 neglect. 
 
 What could have touched the fountain of his heart, and bid 
 those tears drench his pallid cheeks? Were they tears of 
 sorrow or joy, or did they partake of both ? 
 
 A strong constitution, combined with careful, intelligent, 
 affectionate nursing, subdued the early symptoms of his indis- 
 position ; and when in a state of comvalesceuce, he was resting, 
 his countenance looked as peaceful as that of a sleeping child 
 troubled with no disturbing causes, expressing a serenity that 
 revealed the tranquillity which the mind of the Hermit was 
 partaking of at the time.



 
 When the Hermit, who was in a short nap, awoke, he felt a 
 deep concern, for he saw that some strong emotion had disturbed 
 the mind of his good nurse, as that had become too visible in 
 the disorder of Ismail's looks, to pass unobserved by him. 
 
 He beheld tears, and listened to sighs, deep but subdued, 
 thoroughly unconscious that he was the adored object for whom 
 they dropped, and for whom they breathed. 
 
 His heart pulsated with a wild throb, new to his curbed 
 feelings, and novel to his experience of past years. His mind 
 was beginning to be swayed by tender reflections, and his heart 
 was being ruled by softer feelings. Shadowy recollections began 
 to dawn in his mind gradually as the twilight ushers the 
 full day refulgence. 
 
 He began to wonder less at Ismail's lively but delicate modesty, 
 a reserve that was pleasing and attractive, and which eminently 
 distinguished him and was his peculiar characteristic. 
 
 His conviction amounted almost to a certainty, that the person 
 whom he for months had sheltered in his residence, could be 
 no other than a female in disguise. 
 
 " My good and kind friend," said the Hermit, " pray restrain 
 your tears, and moderate your grief, for they affect me too 
 painfully. 
 
 " Instead of promoting my health, they would prostrate me 
 again, and all the good you have been doing by your affectionate 
 attentions, would be defeated by your present immoderate in- 
 dulgence of sorrow." 
 
 This allusion to Ismail's loving sympathy had not the effect 
 of checking his feelings, but served rather to cause a fresh over- 
 flow of tears, and under the vehemence of his conflicting emotions, 
 Ismail sank down his head at the foot of the cot where he was 
 seated. 
 
 In doing so, his cloak fell down from his shoulders, and 
 revealed to the astonished eyes of the Hermit, a red mole of a 
 singular formation, having a striking resemblance to a shdhddna, 
 or cherry, and it was bright from the contrast of a clear, smooth, 
 and fair complexion on which it was set.



 
 ( 77 ) 
 
 It was now his turn to be intensely overcome at the revela- 
 tion, and borne down by its violence, he fell with tears and 
 sobs on the neck of his friend. 
 
 When they had both risen from the paroxysm of their grief, 
 and their feelings had moderated, the Hermit said. 
 
 " My fair celestial visitant, have you left your bright spirit- 
 land above, and come down to be my guardian angel in this 
 desolate place ?" 
 
 " Uh, dear Ameerjan, could you have been so sadly deceived 
 by the lying reports spread to achieve a villainous purpose ? 
 How tardy you have been in recognising me, but a woman's 
 instincts which are stronger than a man's perceptions, made me 
 months ago familiar with your real character. I was gratified 
 yet tortured in seeing you grateful and kind to my memory, 
 but suffering from a wrong impression of my supposed death." 
 
 " That, dearest Zuleikha ! was occasioned chiefly by my im- 
 plicit belief that you were no longer an inhabitant of this 
 world, but a bright happy resident of the skies." 
 
 The Hermit now in some measure could understand the 
 reason how even without the sanction of his will, he was drawn 
 spontaneously towards his friend with a gushing affection 
 over which he had no control. 
 
 Zuleikha now related to him, that on hearing that Ameerjan 
 was deceived by the deception practised upon him by her parents, 
 who caused the erection of a tomb which, however, contained 
 nothing besides bricks and mortar, that he might under the delu- 
 sion, abandon his projects, and persist no longer to sue for his 
 daughter's hand ; that being informed of this wicked trick 
 played upon him, and that it was the cause of his forsaking his 
 country, she shortly after, being no longer under the control of 
 her parent, for he had died three months before, matured her 
 plans for coming out in his search, and finding him, might con- 
 tradict the report, and defeat the most unnatural, and unjust 
 designs, and the cruel treatment of her relatives. 
 
 She was well informed of the number of persons who, not



 
 ( 78 ) 
 
 finding employment at home, usually emigrated towards Hin- 
 dustan in quest of lucrative and respectable engagements, and 
 of positions of trust and honor, according to the talent and 
 capacity they took to the courts of the several princes of the 
 land. 
 
 She had started with these emigrants in the disguise he saw 
 her, the number thinning constantly as they separated on the 
 journey, some taking a different course, but with the two travel- 
 lers who were bound for Raj-Mahal, with them she cast in her 
 lot. 
 
 The rest of the incidents being known to the Hermit, it needed 
 no further explanation. 
 
 It was necessary, as he very justly thought, that he ought to 
 send for a Mulla, and he did send for one from Azimabad, 
 who read the service, and united them privately in marriage, 
 it being not the wish of the Hermit to give publicity to the 
 affair, as they fully made up their mind to return to their coun- 
 try, and take possession of the property to which they were 
 entitled. 
 
 One evening, after the sun had set with his retiring glories, 
 the air had been balmy, and the scene softly enchanting, the 
 Hermit went and had a private interview with his true friend 
 Mobaruc, to whom he communicated about his meeting with 
 some travellers from his country at the fair, who gave him the 
 information, that the daughter of a certain Omrao of his 
 country was still alive and not dead, as it was believed, and 
 that this news necessitated him to quit the neighbourhood of 
 Baj-Mahul, and go back to Persia, but should Moulah spare his 
 life, he would visit the place, and see him once more. 
 
 The friends who were locked in each other's embrace, parted 
 with tears of sincere regret, and wishing Heaven's choicest bless- 
 ing to descend on each other, the Hermit retired from the house 
 in which he had partaken of much peace, comfort, and happiness. 
 
 Two days after this painful interview with Mobaruc, a bahay- 
 lee, drawn by a pair of stately, sturdy oxen, round whose necks



 
 ( 79 ) 
 
 several bells jingled merrily, was seen with labouring steps to 
 ascend one of the acclivities of the undulatory country. 
 
 Two travellers were seated on the bahaylec, Zuleikha still re- 
 taning the use of her disguise in the journey, and now and 
 then the Hermit cast a longing and regretful look behind at 
 the peaceful hermitage he was leaving for ever, abandoned and 
 soon to be in full possession of rank vegetation, and the wild 
 animals of the forest in its vicinity. 
 
 "Dear Zuleikha! 1 leave the place with some regret, for 
 driven away as I have been from my home, I sought its shel- 
 ter and quietude, and found there the enjoyment of a life of 
 undisturbed peace and tranquillity. Save the bitter thoughts 
 of my having lost you, I had no regrets to suffer from, and I 
 indulged in no other aspirations." 
 
 " Having now obtained our hearts' fond desire, we can afford 
 to forgive the treachery of others, and in our present happi- 
 ness, study to forget the saddening recollections of our past 
 trials, and be thankful for the enjoyment of this change in our 
 destiny." 
 
 Conversing thus, the bahaylee was lost to sight in the next 
 downward course of the path through the waving country, but 
 it still proceeded onwards, steadily to a distant land. 
 
 Age that undermines all things, had at an advanced period 
 shaken the strength of the Hermit's robust frame, and laid him 
 down gently to his final rest in the lovely country of Iran, but 
 this was not known to the residents of Raj-Mahal ; the disap- 
 pearance of the recluse from that locality was a secret which 
 was known only to his friend Mobaruc. 
 
 Out of respect to the memory of so good a person as the 
 Hermit, the residents, as a tribute of respect, erected a stone 
 momument after the lapse of a year. 
 
 The sudden and unexpected appearance of the tomb was 
 supposed to have been a miraculous erection, as a memento of 
 his holy life on earth, and as the shrine at which to kindle 
 the expiring flame of devotion ; while the ignorant and super-



 
 ( 80 ) 
 
 stitious entertained a belief that his body was lifted up and 
 veiled among the clouds on his ascent to firdam, or paradise. 
 
 Thus the tomb acquired a degree of sanctity in the eyes of 
 men, and especially in that of love-stricken maidens. 
 
 With the offerings of flowers and sweets, the shrine was 
 frequently visited to make the Hermit propitious to their pray- 
 ers. 
 
 The overwhelming surge of time has now swept away those 
 votaries who resorted to the spot, and fragments of scattered 
 stones in the vicinity of the rocks, covered with wild flowering 
 creepers, are pointed to by the ignorant as Peer-Ke-Durga, or 
 the tomb of the saint, but which in reality is no other than the 
 supposed tomb of the Hermit of Motee-Jhurna.



 
 IOIAI $& MB 
 
 A BRAHMIN AND HIS PUPIL. 
 
 BRAHMIN was in the habit of visiting several towns 
 and villages, for the purpose of procuring for himself 
 the means of subsistence, by the gifts and alms of those who 
 considered charity to a person of his holy life and pious cha- 
 racter, a high meritorious act. In these pedestrian tours, his 
 pupil was invariably his companion. Groing to a certain coun- 
 try, he gave some pice to his scholar to make bazar for their 
 use. The youth going to the market, discovered that all things 
 in it were being sold at one uniform rate and value. He had 
 obtained 1 seer of rice for 1 pice, and a seer doll also for 1 pice ; 
 wood, sugar, ghee, all these, and everything else, at the same rate. 
 Highly pleased with this idea, and going home to the Brahmin, 
 he told him how fine a country it was, recommended him never 
 to leave it on any account, but said that if he did so, his own 
 resolution was made up never to depart from a country so cheap 
 and luxurious. " My son I" replied the Brahmin, " you have 
 no experience of the world. All that glitters like gold is not 
 that bright and valuable metal. There is no fair and equitable 
 administration of law in this country, and there can be no im- 
 partial redress, as it is evident, or the value of wood would 
 not have been estimated on a par with sugar, ghee, and rice." 
 Saying this, and finding that his pupil's resolution could not be 
 11



 
 ( 82 ) 
 
 shaken, he took his leave and departed from the country, warn- 
 ing him that he would surely come some day into trouble. 
 
 After the lapse of five or six months, there was a storm in 
 the country, which brought down part of the wall of a house, 
 and it fell on a person and killed him. A woman of the village, 
 in which this sad event happened, went to the king, and com- 
 plained about the wall which caused the death of her husband. 
 The king ordered the man to be brought whose wall had fallen. 
 On his being presented at the durbar, his majesty rebuked him 
 severely for not mending the wall, or not building it strongly, 
 so that it would not have fallen and destroyed one of his sub- 
 jects, he therefore ordered the man to be suspended on a gibbet. 
 The poor man answered with fear, that it was no fault of his, 
 but of the mason who had erected it with bad materials, though 
 paid by him handsomely for the work. His majesty judged it 
 to be unfair to punish him and not the architect, and so he 
 ordered the mason to appear. The mason, knowing that the 
 king's decision was fickle, heard his sentence pronounced with 
 no emotion of fear, but took courage thereby to frame 
 a plausible story, saying that it was not his fault, but the fault 
 of the ironsmith who made the spade, which was bad and crooked, 
 and he could not work with that to his satisfaction. To the 
 king the story appeared to be true. It was not, he thought, 
 the mason on whom blame could be fixed with justice, but the 
 smith who had furnished the implement, so the ironsmith was 
 in due time summoned, and the King ordered him to the scaffold ; 
 but he too palliated his fault by urging, that if the spade was 
 made badly, it was not on account of his negligence or want of 
 skill, but the wet coal supplied by the collier. The king again 
 commanded the collier to be brought into his presence to answer 
 for the harm he had been instrumental in producing. His 
 majesty scolded and absused him for supplying bad coal, 
 saying that if he had not done so, a human life would not have 
 been destroyed, therefore that he must expiate the crime with 
 his life. It was the turn of the collier to justify himself by



 
 ( 83 ) 
 
 saying that it was not his fault. He was bringing coal in bags 
 laden on bullocks one morning, when a village woman was seen 
 going at the time to fetch water, and he could not help looking 
 at her. While doing so, the bullock had strayed from the path, 
 and had descended into a stream to slake its thirst, and so 
 the bags of coal had got wet, all owing to the woman coming 
 out on the road at that time. The king, whose gullibility was 
 not small, was led to believe that blame was to be attached to 
 the woman. He commanded her to be brought up on trial, 
 but the father-in-law of that woman, thinking that her presence 
 at the public durbar would entail disgrace on the family, will- 
 ingly presented himself, requesting that he was ready to suffer 
 for the crime of his daughter-in-law. The king, accordingly, 
 ordered him to be taken to the gallows, but the executioner res- 
 pectfully urged, that the man was lean aud sickly, and not 
 quite so well suited for the halter, as a stout man would be. 
 Hereupon the king consented that a plump person should be 
 produced. After a diligent search, the executioner's choice fell 
 on the youth who had been the companion of the Brahmin, 
 and who had so much admired the country with its wonderful 
 cheap market, and who, on that account, could not be persuaded 
 to quit the country which the judicious Brahmin perceived 
 was dangerous to inhabit, where the administrations of the 
 Government were so capricious and inequitable. The youth who 
 had spent his time in enjoying the good things of the market, 
 had grown smooth, oily, and corpulent, and for that reason, 
 was the very person the executioner selected for the halter. 
 He was ordered to the gibbet, and when at the place of execu- 
 tion, he called to mind the words of his master, and sighed 
 deeply that he had not attended to his good admonition. The 
 report ran through the whole country, that a young man, who 
 was the companion of a Brahmin, and was seen travelling 
 through the country some months ago, was on a certain day to 
 be executed. The rumour reaching the ear of the Brahmin, 
 deeply affected his feelings with grief for the youth. He travel-



 
 ( 84 ) 
 
 led with great expedition, and when come to the country, he 
 ran up to the king, fell at his feet, and said, while he went and 
 firmly embraced the post with both his hands " good and 
 wise king, I have travelled from a great distance to obtain this 
 supeme felicity, suffer me not to be disappointed. I will mount 
 this scaffold most joyfully, and will not permit this insignificant 
 youth to ascend it, for he who goes up this scaffold to-day 
 will surely mount to the paradise above." The king thought 
 within himself, that this celebrated Brahmin must have com- 
 municated what was true, and, if so, then why not put his 
 decrepid, old, sick, suffering father out of all his trials, suffer- 
 ings, and troubles, and send him at once to the region of enjoy- 
 ment. Arriving at this superlatively wise conclusion, he orderd 
 his father to the gallows. The aged man was executed, not 
 however with sorrow and regret, but with joy on the part of 
 those whose ignorant zeal urged them to accomplish what 
 they deemed a holy act. Believed from danger, the youth, 
 with demonstrations of gratitude, joined the Brahmin in his 
 journey, never more to quit his side, or neglect his wholesome 
 advice.



 
 THE STORY OP SIX BROTHERS. 
 
 I ^T^ 
 
 <^p HERE lived six brothers in a certain country, five of 
 \$k whom had good sight, but the sixth had defective vision, 
 and could, therefore, see but imperfectly. His brothers sepa- 
 rated him from their society, giving him a small dilapidated 
 hut, as his portion, in the distribution of their paternal pro- 
 perty, with a few other very insignificant or defective things. 
 There stood a large tree near the hut of the bliud brother. 
 Some dacoits were in the habit of going under that tree, and 
 dividing their plunder among themselves. One night, the 
 blind man overheard the dacoits saying, as they were sharing 
 the money, "He who did not make a just division, Grod's thun- 
 der would descend rattling on his head." To take advantage 
 of this accident, he cunningly devised a plan to work on their 
 superstitious fear, by slaughtering a bullock which he had, 
 drying the hide in the sun, and with that stiff rustling hide, he 
 ascended the tree in the evening, patiently waiting the arrival 
 of the thieves. As was their habit, they came with their booty 
 under the tree, and as they were sharing their plunder with a 
 view to insure a just distribution, repeating, " That God's thun- 
 der would descend on the head of the person who dealt dis- 
 honestly," just at that moment the blind brother let down the 
 dry hide, which descendel with a thundering rattle on their 
 heads. This appalled them so excessively that they jumped up 
 in great consternation, leaving all the money behind. The 
 blind man descended from the tree, picked up all he could col- 
 lect, and with that retired into his humble hut. He desired 
 his mother on the following morning to call on his brothers, 
 and ask for the loan of their coonkee measuring-basket that 
 he might weigh out all the money he had taken home. In re- 
 turning his brothers their coonkee, he took care to put in two or



 
 ( 86 ) 
 
 three rupees between the rattan ties. The brothers were not a 
 little surprised to discover several rupees sticking to the coonkee, 
 and therefore with anxiety asked their mother where their bro- 
 ther could have got so much money, that in weighing out, some 
 had stuck which was not missing. She replied that he had 
 brought home that morning a good deal of money, but from 
 whence he had obtained it, she was perfectly ignorant. She 
 desired them to go and enquire of their brother. They lost no 
 time in visiting him, jealous as they were of his good fortune. 
 They enquired how he came to possess so much riches. The 
 blind brother answered thus : " It is my bad fate that I do not 
 possess several other bullocks. The hide of the old, starved 
 animal, which I had from you, was the means of my obtaining 
 the money. Had I as many cows as you have, I could make 
 ten times as much money." On hearing this, the envious bro- 
 thers went and slaughtered all the valuable cows they had, 
 tanned their hides, and went to the market to dispose of them. 
 They found to their grief that no purchaser would offer more 
 than a few annas for each hide. They were sadly disappoint- 
 ed, and returning to their homes with sorrow and vexation, 
 they exclaimed " Our brother has given us evil advice with an 
 intention to injure us, let us therefore go this evening and set 
 fire to his house." They did as they had planned, but the 
 blind brother, on the following morning, very carefully gather- 
 ed charcoal from the burnt house, filled two sacks, and hiring 
 a bullock went to effect a sale. While he was going with the 
 coal, he fell in with a company of merchants near sunset. 
 They had their oxen laden with bags containing gold, silver, 
 and precious gems ; the blind man therefore encamped near 
 them, asking permission to be allowed to keep his bags in the 
 same protected spot, urging that he had similar articles for sale, 
 and would rather be in their company than depart at that hour 
 and be plundered in the way by going unguarded. Just be- 
 fore 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning, before the hour for starting, 
 he crept stealthily from his place, and placing his bags of coal



 
 ( 87 ) 
 
 with theirs, dragged a pair of their bags near his bullock, when 
 he woke them and asked the merchants to be so kind as to help 
 him to lift the bags on his animial, saying that he had a long 
 journey to go, and on that account he intended to begin early. 
 They pitied the blind man, and helped him to load his animal. 
 The blind brother started on his journey with alacrity, and 
 going but a short way in another direction, shaped his course 
 towards his own house, whither he drove his bullock as fast as 
 it could trot. Getting home he requested his mother, as before, 
 to go to his brothers and ask for the loan of their coonkee, or 
 measuring-basket. This he did, not with any desire really to 
 weigh out his bags of gold and silver, and gems, but to find an 
 opportunity to put in some small pieces of the treasure, that 
 the spite and envy of his brothers might be mortified, and 
 thereby that they might be rebuked and punished for their 
 wicked designs against him. The brothers seeing some valu- 
 able metal adhering to their coonkce when it was returned, ask- 
 ed the mother again with greater solicitude, how the blind 
 brother had come to the possession of such valuables. The 
 mother replied, that all she knew was that she saw him collect- 
 ing all the charcoal from his burnt house and going to sell it. 
 They ran to their brother eagerly to enquire. The blind bro- 
 ther said : " Alas ! what a misfortune that I had not several 
 houses. My poor hut was burnt down, and with the charcoal 
 procured from the conflagration, I have earned so much wealth. 
 Had I several houses, what a princely fortune I could acquire." 
 The envious brothers therefore went and set fire to their res- 
 pective spacious houses, in hopes of obtaining great wealth. 
 Going with the charcoal to the market for disposal, but finding 
 no one to offer more than L or 2 annas for each bag, they re- 
 turned home with much vexation and sorrow. They consulted 
 together, and were determined to punish their brother very 
 severely for bringing so much distress on them by his wicked 
 counsel. They went therefore, and tying his hands and feet, 
 put him into a sack and let him down in a tank. As soon as



 
 ( 88 ) 
 
 this diabolical work was accomplished, they, to elude detection, 
 decamped from the spot with all haste. At that time some 
 cowherds who were watching the herds grazing in the field, 
 and who had silently witnessed the whole of the atrocious 
 transaction, ran quickly to the tank and rescued the blind brother 
 froin a watery grave, after which they went away to break their 
 fast. As soon as the brother had recovered from the stupor, he 
 drove the herd to his own house, not intending finally to make 
 it his own property, but with the view of punishing his brothers. 
 They were not a little surprised to see him not only safe, but 
 bringing with him a considerable herd of cows. They asked 
 him again about his good fortune and preservation. He 
 answered : " brothers ! how shall I describe to you what hap- 
 pened ; when I was thrown into the tank, on opening my eyes, 
 I beheld innumerable cows ; all I had to do was to pull them by 
 the tail and drag them up. I had been but a short time in it 
 and got this large herd. Had I continued longer, I could 
 scarcely have driven them home by myself." They became anxi- 
 ous to know how they could get them. The blind brother said : 
 " Allow me to bind your hands and feet, and fling you into the 
 tank ; I have no doubt that you will meet with better success 
 than I have had by my individual exertion." The deluded 
 brothers suffered him to tie their hands and feet, allowed them- 
 selves to be put into sacks, and then let down into the tank. 
 The consequence was that their folly, envy, injustice, and wick- 
 edness, produced their own punishment. The blind brother 
 was avenged for all the wrong and injustice they did him.



 
 A MERCHANT AND HIS SON. 
 
 WEALTHY merchant, while lying on his bed indisposed 
 by sickness, and the infirmities of age, itivited his son to 
 his room one day, and spoke to him in these words " My son, 
 from this sickness I may not recover. Should I die, I fear you 
 would squander all my hard earned wealth by dissipation and 
 idleness. You know that in my vocation as a merchant, I have 
 prospered and enjoyed all the blessings of this life. I fear 
 you will not be able to conduct the business with care and dis- 
 cretion, yet I would recommend your following the profession 
 of your father. In doing so I lay no restraint upon your visit- 
 ing every land under the sun, but I strongly dissuade you 
 from ever venturing into the Himalayan regions." The son was 
 desirous of knowing the reason why his father prohibited him 
 from going with his merchandise, if he ever traded, in the Hima- 
 layan mountains. " My son," observed the father, " my long 
 experience of the world, my knowledge of all countries and their 
 denizens, enables me to form a just and accurate estimate of the 
 characters of men. The inhabitants of that region have been 
 found invariably to be very artful and dishonest. They will not 
 only rob a man of his purse, but if they can find an opportunity, 
 or a single excuse, they will without remorse strip him naked and 
 appropriate his clothes. Should you ever forget this my parting 
 advice, and go into that country, and fall into any disaster, 
 remember to call on Golab Sing, the chief of the country, 
 who is a friend of mine ; mention my name to him, seek 
 redress from his justice, and he will enable you to remain there 
 in the peaceful prosecution of your trade." 
 
 The merchant died shortly after as was expected, and the son, 
 whose curiosity was excited by the merchant's prohibition, re- 
 solved upon visiting the lofty hills. To carry out this object, 
 12



 
 ( 90 ) 
 
 he procured a large stock of valuable goods, and such as were 
 not only in general demand in the country, but highly valued 
 by the mountaineers. With this merchandize he loaded fifty 
 camels, and set out on a fine morning on this perilous and un- 
 certain journey. Having arrived in the country after two 
 mouths' tedious travel through interminable forests and fields, 
 the merchant's son thought it to be appropriate to announce his 
 arrival in the usual manner by firing a salute ; but instead of 
 wasting his powder in merely making a report, he deemed it 
 more prudent, that, while the salute was fired, he might as well 
 aim his musket at a heron which he saw seated quietly near the 
 verge of a spacious tank, and thus accomplish two objects at 
 once. Having shot the bird he went to pick up his game, but 
 in doing so, he saw a washerman occupied in scouring clothes, 
 who spoke to him thus : " What have you done ? Have you 
 not a grain of common sense ? The heron was my father who 
 had transmigrated into the body of that bird, and he was very 
 useful to me, watching and encouraging me in my operations, 
 and guarding the clothes which are spread out to the sun for 
 bleaching purpose. Now, pray, resuscitate my father and give 
 him back to me, or lay down four hundred rupees, or you do 
 not go away so easily from hence." While this conversation 
 was being held by the two individuals, another man who had 
 approached the spot, and was silently listening to the conversa- 
 tion, and who was blind of one eye, thus accosted the young 
 merchant " Your father, peace be to his spirit, was a just and 
 liberal man, who traded in all kinds of things, and dealt in eyes. 
 He took a fancy to my eyes and purchased one of them for six 
 hundred rupees, with a promise of paying me that sum on his 
 next visit to this country. Though I am suffering from the loss 
 of one eye, I have not been paid yet for my loss and suffering. I 
 forego the interest on that sum due to me these several years, 
 and as you are his son, I expect that you will discharge that 
 debt willingly, or we must proceed to court. Give me the 
 amount or restore the eye to me." In this altercation between



 
 ( 91 ) 
 
 the parties, there was a third person listening to the discourse. 
 She was a woman with a child in her lap, she came forward 
 and saluted the young merchant in a bland soothing manner. 
 " It is my good fortune to meet you in this country, and how 
 happy I am to see you of whom I have heard so favourably from 
 your parent. How well you answer his description, just those 
 eyes, and those arched brows, and that soft outline of linea- 
 ment ; I am his poor wife, and this unhappy boy is his last son 
 by a second marriage. At the time of his going away for a 
 short period, he told me to borrow such sums as would defray 
 our expenses, and that on his return he would refund the 
 money with interest. I trust you will help me to pay off the 
 debts incurred during two years and six months, and, as you 
 are like my own son, that you would support me and take me 
 under your protection, that no disgrace may be cast on the honor- 
 able name of your worthy father." 
 
 The young merchant became so confounded with these novel 
 and unexpected attacks and unceremonious demands, that he 
 regretted he had not listened to the salutary advice of his fa- 
 ther, the consequence of which was, that he was so soon after 
 his arrival in the country, experiencing so much annoyance, and 
 was plunged into so much trouble. It occurred to him, however, 
 in this distress of mind, that in the event of his suffering from 
 any adverse circumstance, his father had advised him to call on 
 Grolab Sing, the chief of the country. With this object in view 
 he told the people who were pulling him on each side and al- 
 most quartering him, to go with him before the Rajah, to whose 
 decision he would submit, and be guided by his counsel. Be- 
 fore the merchant could arrive at Golab Sing's residence, these 
 dexterous rogues ran and presented themselves before him to 
 offer their respective complaints, crying out, " help MaharaJ J help 
 Maharaj /" Soon after taking their deposition, the merchant 
 also arrived, and was interrogated by the Prince as to the country 
 from whence he had come, and what his name was. On discover- 
 ing that he was the son of his friend, the old merchant, the Prince



 
 was moved with emotions of unfeigned grief at the news of his fa- 
 ther's death. The rogues seeing the friendly terms on which the 
 merchant stood with the Prince, lost all courage and would 
 have decamped from the court rather than advance the prosecu- 
 tion. But it was too late to recede ; they therefore screwed up 
 their resolution to stand the investigation. The Prince, know- 
 ing too well the tricks and stratagems of his subjects, took the 
 merchant aside and advised him what to do in this affair. He 
 said, " When the washerman comes and makes his claims against 
 you, you make this counter charge against him, 'When your 
 father became a heron, my father was a small fish in the river, who 
 swimming and jumping in the shallow water, was journeying 
 home, up the stream, when your father, the heron, pecked at him, 
 and getting him in his bill, swallowed him. Produce my father 
 first, and then I will restore yours to you.' To the second 
 claimant say 'My father, it is true, traded in all sorts of things, 
 and also speculated in eyes, but as there are so many eyes in my 
 possession, and I do not know which is yours, give me the other 
 eye, weighing which in the scales, I could ascertain the exact 
 weight and restore the precise eye to you.' To the third say 
 thus, ' I admit the truth of your allegation, for I have heard 
 my father mention to me frequently that he was married in this 
 country, and had a young son ; he told me therefore to bring 
 his wooden sandal, and to give you that to wear and mount 
 the funeral pyre. Do that and I will believe that you are re- 
 ally his second wife.' ' 
 
 Being thus advised and prepared by the Prince, those persons, 
 while endeavouring by all artful means to substantiate their 
 claims, were defeated and confounded by as cogent counter- 
 statements from the young merchant as those which they 
 tendered. The merchant being dismissed with marks of regard 
 by the Prince, followed his professional occupation in the coun- 
 try without any further molestation, while the wicked rogues 
 were sent into prison to chew the bitter cud of reflection, and 
 to work on the roads under the weight of heavy chains.



 
 THE STORY OP AN INDOLENT MAN. 
 
 C J - HERE was a certain man who was excessively indolent ; 
 t~A his wife therefore said to him one day, " Since you do not 
 work to support me^ and have not brought me a single rupee 
 since the day of our marriage, it is far better that you should 
 consent to my leaving you and working for my own subsis- 
 tence." On hearing this, the husband consented to go out in 
 quest of some employment; the wife, knowing that he always 
 did so, but sauntered idly about the streets, and came home 
 always with some frivolous excuse about his bad fortune in 
 getting no employment congenial to his taste, prepared some 
 cakes with poison which she tied up in a napkin for him to eat 
 on the journey, thiukiug that by this contrivance, she would get 
 rid of a useless, idle fellow. The indolent man took the cakes 
 and went out joyously one morning with the intention of enjoy- 
 ing them on the road, and then returning with a well-framed, 
 plausible story to appease her displeasure. He had rambled 
 through a good part of the country, when he Jjegan to get 
 weary and feel a keen appetite for the cakes. Seeing a tank 
 before him with a majestic tree in its neighbourhood, he placed 
 the napkin containing the cakes, together with his walking 
 cane, beneath the tree, and descended the flight of steps for the 
 purpose of washing himself. Being so occupied, it happened 
 that in that quarter of the country, a wild ferocious elephant 
 was creating much havoc in cultivated lauds, as well as destroy- 
 ing life. The Rajah of the district had notified by beat of 
 drum, that whoever would kill the elephant, would be entitled 
 to a handsome reward, and be provided with a lucrative employ- 
 ment. It so happened that this elephant in passing the tree, 
 took up the napkin, shook out its contents, and devoured the 
 cakes. In a short time he fell dead on the spot. The indolent



 
 man coming up from the tank and finding an elephant lying 
 dead, cut off a piece of the trunk with the intention of taking 
 it home as a trophy of his valour. The people of the village 
 soon gathered themselves round the elephant like vultures 
 about a carcase. Some took with them the tusks, and some 
 bore away the tail. With these they presented themselves be- 
 fore the Rajah with the expectation of receiving the promised 
 reward; but the Rajah asked them where the tsunk was, for 
 he who had the trunk was the person who had slain the animal. 
 Not being able to furnish a satisfactory answer to this query, 
 they were discovered to be mere pretenders. The indolent 
 man, hearing the particulars, of the elephant story, presented 
 himself in due time before the Rajah with the missing trunk. 
 The Rajah asked if he had slain the elephant. He said 
 emphatically that he was the author of its destruction. On 
 being questioned how he had effected the death of the monster, 
 he answered boastfully that he did it by merely squeezing the 
 animal, and could, with the greatest ease and facility, dispatch 
 half a dozen others. The Rajah being highly gratified with 
 his courage and skill, presented him with a purse of two hundred 
 rupees, and gave him an employment by which he could earn a 
 hundred rupees per month. From this circumstance he was 
 designated the Squeezing Giant. 
 
 This Prince had frequent territorial disputes with a 
 neighbouring Zemindar, in which the parties had several 
 skirmishes, but in most of them the men of the Prince were 
 defeated. On the present occasion, however, instigated by 
 the retainers of the Prince, the Squeezing Giant was advised 
 to go and exhibit his prowess before the enemy. As he could 
 not refuse to go, he assented, thinking to himself that when 
 once mounted on the horse for battle, he would get away from 
 the country and go far beyond the reach of the Prince. With 
 this resolution he desired to be furnished with a good charger. 
 Mounting the animal with all the airs of a general, he desired 
 the men to fasten him. to the horse, that in the heat of battle,



 
 ( 95 ) 
 
 he might not, by any accident, fall and get himself unhorsed. 
 Proceeding in a canter until he got out of sight of the palace, 
 it was his desire to turn the head of his horse in the direction 
 of his country, hut the spirited animal, trained to battle, and 
 hearing the beat of drums and the notes of a bugle, began to 
 paw the ground and prance, and much against the disposition 
 of the rider, to shape his course toward that quarter where the 
 men of the Zemindar were assembled in battle array to dispute 
 the rights of the Prince. In this dilemma, and while the 
 horse was bounding forward, he grasped at the branch of a 
 tree with all his might, either to check his progress towards the 
 scene of danger, or by getting up the tree to escape from his 
 unpleasant predicament ; but neither object being gained, the 
 heavy branch rested in his grasp and on his shoulder. With 
 this strange weapon he was seen advancing towards the field. 
 The men of the Zemindar having heard before of the Squeez- 
 ing Giant and his supernatural powers, and seeing too his 
 approach with a tree uprooted as they believed, and thinking 
 that with a single swing of that tree, he might lay thirty or 
 forty men prostrate, broke up the camp in haste and disap- 
 peared. The Squeezing Giant thought no more of returning 
 to his country ; he came back to the Prince with proud looks 
 and buoyant hopes, telling him that he had no occasion to 
 unsheathe his sword, the mere appearance of his person in 
 the field had driven away the enemies of the Rajah with 
 terror and amazement. The Rajah was well pleased with his 
 valuable service, and as a token of his approbation, he conferred 
 on him titles of distinction, augmented his salary, and continu- 
 ed to entertain him in his post of honor and responsibility. 
 
 After the lapse of a year or two, a powerful tiger was re- 
 ported to have come into the country, and was daily destroying 
 men and cattle, and there was found no one capable of check- 
 ing his devastations. Several shicarees, or sportsmen, belong- 
 ing to the Rajah, had gone out to destroy him, but they came 
 back baffled in their attempts. The Rajah then thought of



 
 ( 96 ) 
 
 his " Squeezing Giant." He called him to the durbar, or 
 court, and informed him that none of his retainers had 
 succeeded in killing the tiger which was doing so much harm 
 to his country. The " Squeezing Giant," with a show of 
 courage, promptly answered that he would willingly go and 
 slay the tiger, as it was but an insignificant work, but at the 
 same time he was getting icy cold with fear, knowing that the 
 elephant and the battle were very fortunate affairs, and merely 
 accidental occurrences. The thought of this enterprize made 
 him lose his appetite for several days,, but deeply cunning 
 as he was, he made minute enquiries of the sportsmen where the 
 tiger was to be found, and the place which was his chief haunt. 
 On learning that the tiger generally slept under a tamarind 
 tree after it had fed itself, the " Squeezing Giant" told the sports- 
 men to furnish him with all sorts of weapons, to lift and fasten 
 him tightly to the tamarind tree, and that at a convenient 
 time he would show the tiger who he was. This being done 
 according to his instructions, and to his own satisfaction, the 
 sportsmen left him with a secret wish that he might fall a prey 
 to the fierce animal, because, since his entertainment in the 
 Rajah's service, their emoluments were meagre, and their reputa- 
 tion had suffered in the estimation of their employer on account 
 of his extraordinary exploits. Soon after the glaring sun had 
 set, the tiger, as was his habit, came near the tamarind tree, and 
 snuffing the air, discovered that there was a human being in 
 that locality. He cast his glowing eyes hither and thither in 
 search of the man, when they fell on the " Squeezing Giant" 
 in the tree. Fixing his gaze' intently for a time, he gave a 
 terrific howl, and then sprang towards the branch on which the 
 man was. He began to quake with great fear. His trembling 
 hands had no power to hold the weapons with which he had 
 been furnished. They therefore fell from that lofty branch with 
 a force that caused them to penetrate deep into the body, eyes, 
 and neck of the animal. It soon lay weltering in its own blood. 
 When the man came to find the disabled state of the tiger, he



 
 ( 97 ) 
 
 struggled wildly to get free from the cords which confined him to 
 the tree. He succeeded in snapping them, when coming down 
 from the tree, he bawled out lustily for the villagers, and as he 
 saw them stirring about from their huts, and approaching him, 
 he commenced with a volubility of abusive language to beat 
 the back of the expiring auimal with a ponderous branch. Hav- 
 ing, after such an achievement, marvellous in the eyes of the 
 village rustics, commanded them authoritatively to bear away 
 the tiger to the Rajah, he walked slowly behind, musing 
 on the thought that at some future period he was sure, if he 
 continued in his present employment, to come into disagreeable 
 contact with much greater perplexities. The wisest course there- 
 fore for him to take, he concluded, would be, to leave the Rajah 
 with all his honors thick upon him, and his reputation for courage 
 and strength unmarred. On seeing the Rajah, therefore, he 
 asked permission, after so many years' service, to visit his 
 family and country. His sanction having been obtained, he 
 asked the Rajah for the use of a horse from his large stud. The 
 horse which he had thus obtained, he mounted after the eastern 
 quixotic fashion, commencing his journey with exultant reflec- 
 tions as to what stories he would spin out, and what wonderful 
 things he would do, and how he would make the people stare 
 their eyes out in the recital of his wonderful deeds, when he 
 was in his own house and country. Thus beguiling the tedious- 
 ness of his solitary journey, the bright sun began to decline 
 with his gorgeous light, and evening's sombre shadows to mantle 
 the landscape, when he came to a hut on the way. Here he 
 alighted with an intention to repose and rest himself for the 
 night. It happened to be the residence of a gang of six brothers, 
 in which their six wives and sisters were dwelling with their 
 mother-in-law. The aged woman gladly admitted this traveller. 
 She provided him with all the requisites for supper, giving him, 
 however, wet wood that he might be long engaged in kindling a 
 fire and dressing his dinner, lest he might, after his refreshment, 
 think of pursuing his journey, by which her sons would lose 
 13



 
 ( 98 ) 
 
 their opportunity of stripping him of his property. One of 
 the young wives of the robbers, knowing of the treachery and 
 wickedness of her mother-in-law, and knowing too that the 
 robbers not only divested a man of his money, but that it was 
 their invariable practice to murder those they robbed, felt sym- 
 pathy for the fate of the innocent traveller. She endeavoured 
 secretly to apprise the man of the danger which awaited him, 
 should he remain till the robbers came back from their excursion. 
 The traveller rose up in alarm, collected his baggage, and came 
 out with the intention of starting on his journey ; but the old 
 wily hag, meeting him at the threshold, tried to dissuade him 
 from his purpose, telling him that he ought to refresh himself 
 before undertaking a laborious journey, and that she would 
 provide him with more ghee, dall, and sweets, if he were not 
 satisfied with that which she had previously provided him. His 
 terror made the power of her soft eloquence of no effect. He 
 gave her to understand that he felt no desire for food, feeling 
 not quite well in health, and that on that account he would 
 not lose his time unnecessarily. 
 
 The old woman finding the she could not prevail on him to 
 remain, went and tied a purse full of mustard seed to the tail 
 of his horse, that traces of the road he travelled through might 
 be discovered by her sons on their return. When the 
 free-booters came home, the mother expressed her deep regret 
 that they had lost a good prize by the departure of a wealthy 
 traveller, but said that it was possible to find him by the mus- 
 tard seed, which they would find strewed in the path by which 
 he was advancing, " Don't you, however," she said, " go by 
 yourselves, but take one of your sisters. Should you overtake 
 him on the road near some secluded spot,you may despatch him 
 in your usual way by strangling, but in the event of your meet- 
 ing with him at any populous place or town, mention within 
 the hearing of others, that he had married your sister yester- 
 day, had left her behind, and was running away from her." 
 The robbers not having found the man on the road, followed



 
 ( 99 ) 
 
 him up to a town. The traveller turning round and finding 
 that he was pursued, enquired of the inhabitants if there lived 
 any Rajah in the town. Learning that there was such a person- 
 dge, he urged his horse forward, reached the rajbarce, or palace, 
 and sought shelter and protection from the Rajah. To him he 
 disclosed all the events of his last journey, and the danger from 
 which he had escaped, requesting his protection from the wicked 
 design of the robbers who were in pursuit of him and were just in 
 eight. Soon after this disclosure, the robbers also presented them- 
 selves before the Rajah, bowing submissively in his presence, and 
 crying out, " Help, Maharaj ! help Maharaj ! This man married 
 our sister only yesterday, and instead of taking her along with 
 him, he is running away from her secretly, wishing to leave 
 his wife a burden upon us." The Rajah desired the robbers 
 and the traveller to rest and refresh themselves, and that on 
 the morrow he would hear their petition. When night had 
 approached, the Rajah ordered the robbers a separate dwelling, 
 and the traveller a different apartment with his supposed wife. 
 He instructed one of his own men to remain concealed in one 
 of the rooms next to the traveller's, and to listen to any con- 
 versation held between him and the woman during the night. 
 Late at night the woman was heard by the spy to tell the tra- 
 veller to give up his money, or that she would kill him. He 
 replied, saying, that it would be useless for her to deprive him 
 of life, for by that atrocious act she could not succeed to his 
 property. The affair was known to the Rajah, and the crime 
 of his murder and theft would be visited with condign punish- 
 ment from the retributive justice of the Prince. A small dagger 
 was seen concealed beneath the folds of her ample garment, and 
 to carry out her determination, she was feeling for the weapon, 
 and insisting on his making over the purse, or bearing the 
 consequence of his refusal. The traveller still persisted in saying, 
 that though she killed him, still the money would never be her 
 property. " But before you kill me," he said, " listen first to a 
 story which I have to relate, and when that will be concluded, od



 
 what you please with me." She assented, and the story was 
 begun as follows : 
 
 " There was a merchant who had brought up a parrot, and 
 who, being about to go on a long trading voyage, left strict 
 injunctions with his dependants, that whatever the parrot order- 
 ed them to execute, they should obey cheerfully. The parrot 
 accordingly, on the departure of the merchant, commanded a 
 certain parcel of ground which measured twenty biggahs to be 
 properly ploughed and richly manured. The servant announ- 
 ced the execution of his order, and wanted to know what other 
 commands he had for them. The parrot ordered them to cul- 
 tivate the field with pumpkin creepers. After a month or so, 
 the field was coverd with an abundance of succulent pumpkins 
 of an extraordinary size, and fit for being gathered up. The 
 servants desired to know if they should gather and take them 
 to the market for sale, or dispose them to some speculating 
 farmer. The parrot instructed them to go to the field, and then to 
 irrigate the land with a copious supply of water, so as to immerse 
 the plants and the pumpkins. Having done according to the 
 parrot's bidding, the servants came to the parrot to censure his 
 insane proceedings ; telling him that if the produce were taken 
 into market and sold, and not destroyed so ruthlessly, it would 
 have realized for their master more than three hundred rupees. 
 The parrot answered, ' What does that concern you, go now and 
 drain the field, after which when the field becomes dry and is 
 adapted for ploughing, plough and manure it as before, then 
 plant out cuttings of sugar-cane.' After a short time the canes 
 sprung up with a growth of vigorous luxuriance, lofty in height, 
 thick in circumference, and redundant of saccariue matter. The 
 servants came to inform the parrot that the canes had acquired 
 perfect maturity and were fit to be cut ; if allowed to stand 
 longer their productive sap would diminish. The parrot re- 
 commended them to go and cut down the canes, after which to 
 lay them in a heap and set fire to the stack. The laborers re- 
 plied with amazement : ' What are you going to do with our



 
 master's property ?' * What is that to you, go and do as you are 
 bid/ was the parrot's further injunction. Having done so, the 
 laborers were told to sweep the place and collect the ashes from 
 the conflagration into a bungalow. ' When this was accom- 
 plished, the time for the merchant's return approached. As 
 soon as he had come home, the servants recounted all the impru- 
 dences of the parrot ; the merchant being at that time in bad 
 temper on account of the disorders into which some of his other 
 affairs were thrown, got fiercely angry with the parrot, and, 
 without reflection took him out of the cage and dashed him to 
 the ground. 
 
 " After the lapse of a few days, the merchant thought of ex- 
 amining the ashes which had been gathered and stored up in a 
 golah or godown. Doing so, he discovered to his surprise that 
 it had, by some secret, mysterious process conducted in the cru- 
 cible of nature rather than art, acquired medicinal properties 
 which made it of considerable value ; he lamented, therefore, 
 deeply, his rashness in destroying his faithful bird." 
 
 The story was heard by the sister of the robbers in silence, 
 but as soon as it was concluded, she repeated her former demand 
 for the traveller's purse, saying that the night had nearly passed 
 by and the dawn was fast approaching. The traveller told her 
 that she would not succeed in obtaining the money ; but, said he, 
 " Listen to another short tale, the relation of which I hope may 
 instil into you some portion of common sense : 
 
 "There lived a father and mother whose family was composed 
 of several childen. The mother placing a bowl of water before her 
 little boy, with which he might play and amuse himself, went for 
 a short while to winnow the corn. Just at that spot she tied a 
 weasel. A venomous snake seeing the child playing with 
 water, with no one at that time in the house, made bold to 
 come out from his secret dwelling in the crevices of the old wall 
 to slake his thirst from the water of the basin. The poor child 
 not knowing what it was, put forth his innocent hands to catch 
 and play with that which he might have taken for a pretty arau-



 
 ( 102 ) 
 
 sing toy. He played for some time, the snake coiling and dis- 
 entangling himself from his arm, till by some accident the boy, 
 unwittingly hurt the snake, and the ill-tempered reptile stung 
 him, and he lay lifeless, but in all the beauty of innocent child- 
 hood. Witnessing the sudden catastrophe, the weasel cut his 
 string with his teeth, and going into the neighbouring fields, 
 came back to the house with a root which was an antidote for 
 snake poison. At this time the mother who had come back from 
 her occupation, and seeing the child in that state, stood petrified 
 with sorrow and anguish, then she fell on the body of her child 
 and wept bitterly. After she had given full vent to her grief, 
 she stood up to go and announce the mournful occurrence to her 
 husband, when seeing the weasel loose from the tie and approach- 
 ing her, she thought that it was by his absence and remissness 
 that her poor boy was lost, and therefore, in a fit of vexation and 
 rage, she grasped the weasel and threw him on the floor with 
 all her might. As the weasel lay dead, a curious root was dis- 
 covered in his mouth, which extricating from his clenched teeth, 
 she took in her hand, and thought that it might possess some 
 medicinal virtue which the instinct of the animal had procured. 
 The mother in her agony would leave no means untried, and 
 so she ground the root and administered it to the child. To her 
 great joy the lad began gradually to give indications of return- 
 ing consciousness. With the child's recovery the faithful weasel's 
 death was a constant source of grief and compunction to the 
 mother." 
 
 The spy who had listened to their discourse thus far, and 
 had taken it down on paper, proceeded to the door of the apart- 
 ment, and violently knocked. It was dawn, and the traveller 
 and the woman were taken out and conducted before the Rajah. 
 The incidents, as transcribed by the spy, being read before the 
 court, the wily woman was sentenced to be transported, after 
 her person had been disfigured with a brand on the forehead, 
 and her flowing hair had been shorn. 
 
 The six artful ruffians finding the light of day dawning, de-



 
 ( 103 ) 
 
 camped from the town, knowing too well that if frustrated in 
 their deep artifices, the further investigation of the case by a 
 court of justice, would but entangle them in their own net of 
 treachery, and bring a heavy judgment against them, disastrous 
 to their lives of infamy. 
 
 The traveller was set at liberty to pursue his journey, which 
 he did without meeting with any further accident or disaster. 
 By slow stages he came back to the land of his nativity, but in 
 reaching it, the first blow to his joy and his anticipations, was 
 the news which he heard of his wife having taken another hus- 
 band, thinking that he had long been numbered with his ances- 
 tors. 
 
 He accused himself severely as the cause of all the misfortune 
 and disaster which had been brought upon himself by want of 
 energy and occupation. The experience which he had acquired 
 in his travels, made him more sober-minded, led him to appre- 
 ciate habits of useful industry, and to reflections conducive to 
 right conduct in life, and a proper discharge of social duties. 
 Having a small capital of his own, he resolved to apply a 
 portion of it to purposes of trade, to purchase a small farm, to 
 marry a virtuous wife, and live in occupations of usefulness and 
 acts of charity. 
 
 A BADSHAW AND HIS SEVEN DAUGHTERS. 
 
 was a Badshaw who had seven daughters. He 
 \$k called them before him one morning, and asked, '' My 
 children, by whose luck are you supported ?" The six eldest 
 answered that they were dependent on their parent for support, 
 but the youngest replied that she was supported by her own 
 fate. The Badaliaw addressed his youngest daughter thus :



 
 ( 104 ) 
 
 " Whatever individual I meet with on the morrow, I will make 
 you over to him, you ungrateful child !" A wood-cutter was 
 the first man whom the Badshaw saw in the morning. He told 
 the woodman that he would marry his daughter to him, be- 
 cause he had resolved upon it in his own mind for the purpose 
 of punishing her. The wood-cutter apologised, and begged 
 that the Badshaw would forgive him if he had inadvertently 
 given him offence, since it was only for some such reason, he 
 said, that he was being bantered with. The Badshaw told him 
 he was quite serious on the subject. The wood-cutter persisted 
 in saying that he was a poor man who depended for a precarious 
 subsistence on cutting wood, by which he hardly earned enough 
 for his own support, and how, then, could he take a wife and 
 plunge her into trouble and suffering. The youngest daughter, 
 who happened to be present at the conference, told the man not 
 to be discouraged but to consent, as she would do everything 
 for her own maintenance, and would not prove a burden to 
 him. 
 
 Thus they were married, and the man took his wife to his 
 hut, and leaving her there, said ; " You remain here, and let 
 me go to my work, for it is late. By a whole day's hard labour, 
 I can cut but a basket-full of wood, and obtain for that only 
 one hundred and twelve shells. I must therefore be up and 
 doing, or we must starve." His wife inquired : " What, do 
 you always sell your wood at one uniform price, and never sell 
 under or above that rate ? Show me your wood before you go 
 to sell it." Receiving this instruction, he went forth to his 
 daily occupation, bringing in at the close of the day, a basket 
 of chips. The wife, finding the wood to be no other than 
 sandal wood chips, told the simpleton to make a demand of 
 five rupees for them, and if any one declined to purchase for 
 that amount, to bring them back. As taught, so he asked 
 five rupees, but a buyer laughed and inquired if he had lost 
 his wits during the night, and what had come to pass that he 
 made such an exorbitant demand as five rupees, after haviug



 
 ( 105 ) 
 
 received only a hundred and twenty cowries at .first. The man 
 would not give in, but stuck to his resolution. The tradesman 
 was obliged to take it on the terms of the woodman, and in 
 paying the five rupees into his hands, cautioned him to take 
 the wood no where else, since he would purchase it every day 
 at his own enhanced price. On receiving the five rupees, the 
 wife went and purchased a large stock of all necessaries, after 
 which, she asked the woodman of the size of the tree he was 
 cutting. He told her that it was a very large dry tree, which 
 after the manner in which he was hewing, would take him 
 two years to finish the cutting. She instructed him to take 
 a rupee and engage the assistance of ten or twelve labourers, 
 who would cut the tree down, divide the branches into small 
 logs, and bring the wood home on two or three carts. This 
 being done, the logs were piled up near their hut, and with 
 that stock in hand, they commenced a successful trade. It 
 then occurred to the wife that it was the practice of some men 
 to bury their wealth at the root of such trees. She told her 
 husband, therefore, to go and dig at the roots. Doing so, he 
 was surprised to find four jars containing money. This enriched 
 the humble dwellers of the hut, who felt no longer the pangs 
 of poverty, or the bitterness of want. With the riches they 
 now possessed, they began to trade on a larger scale than be- 
 fore, and thus, after two or three years of prosperous business, 
 they became people of some consequence. In the locality where 
 the hut stood, a beautiful, stately edifice sprung up, the sole 
 occupiers and owners of which were the woodman and his 
 faithful, intelligent, prudent wife. Arriving at this stage of 
 comfort and independence, they prepared a sumptuous entertain- 
 ment, to which they invited the men of two or three neighbour- 
 ing villages. A large number came and partook of the grand 
 repast, and enjoyed all the amusements which were prepared 
 for their diversion. Some of the guests, in conversing with 
 the host and hostess, mentioned casually that the Badshaw, 
 who was once so opulent, had come by adverse circumstances 
 14



 
 ( 106 ) 
 
 to great poverty -and want ; indeed, such was his indigence that 
 he was compelled to undertake menial offices. The hostess 
 heard the narration with surprise and grief, and tears were 
 forced from her eyes, but though they ran down her cheeks in 
 copious streams, she studied to conceal her emotion from 
 her guests. 
 
 The woodman's visitors, while retiring from the entertainment, 
 spoke of their hostess in terms of high laudation, observing that 
 it was the ability and prudence of the woman, and not the man, 
 that had raised them from a humble position to one of respect- 
 ability, affluence, and comfort. To carry out her secret design, 
 the wife ordered the excavation of a large tank, and for its con- 
 struction, she desired her men to bring only such as were really 
 in want, and without anything to eat. Many poor men of the 
 village were supported by this work, and several came from the 
 neighbourhood, among whom was the Badshaw, but so much 
 changed in his aspect as scarcely to be recognised by any body. 
 The sircar who had the supervision of the excavation, saw that 
 a certain labourer was not at all qualified for the work, for he 
 could neither dig well, nor bear heavy loads. He felt it to be his 
 duty to represent this to his mistress. Having done so, she 
 desired him to bring the man before her. When the poor man 
 presented himself before her, he could not recognise her as his 
 daughter, but she was not slow to discover that he was the 
 Badshaw, her father. She made herself known to him, and in- 
 formed him by what means their circumstances had improved. 
 They were soon locked in each other's arms, and over his ample 
 shoulder where her head rested, she wept at the memory of the 
 past, comparing it with his present altered condition. She 
 invited her father and sisters to reside with her, telling the 
 father to employ his time in conducting her profitable business. 
 She reminded him that what she had asserted before, was not 
 untrue, for in reality every man lived according to the destiny 
 prescribed by an all- wise God.



 
 ( 107 ) 
 
 THE STORY OP A FAKIR AND AN IGNO 
 RANT MAN. 
 
 ignorant man asked a fakir, " Who are you, why are 
 you seated here, and what are you doing ?" 
 
 The fakir replied, " I am a beggar in God's service. I 
 have abandoned the world that I might walk with God, though 
 to do so I may have to endure pain, and suffer privation and 
 sorrow. I am studying human nature, and the two classes of 
 men of whom the world is composed the one given to the 
 pleasures of life, the other engaged in the service of holiness 
 and God. In man's opinion there are several classes of indivi- 
 duals ; but in God's infallible judgment there exist only two 
 the good and the bad." 
 
 The ignorant man observed, " You say that you are in God's 
 service, and that you know him, and are acquainted with man's 
 nature, then, pray, allow me to put you three questions, which, 
 if you fail to answer, I will esteem you not only a liar but a 
 deceitful, wicked person, deluding others to earn for yourself 
 a dishonest livelihood. If it happen to be as I surmise, I will 
 beat you away from hence, and take all that you possess." 
 
 The fakir replied, " By this inconsiderate speech, you disclose 
 the shallowness of your intellect and your want of prudence. 
 Well, I am satisfied with your proposal. Pray, tell me in what 
 matter you desire my opinion ?" 
 
 The ignorant man said, " Father ! the first question is this : 
 Show God to me and tell me of what colour He is ? The second 
 is : Satan is formed of fire, and hell is composed of the same 
 element, how then can fire make any impression on Satan ? 
 The third is : Whatever is being done in the world, is executed 
 by God himself, and not man, for man is impotent and can do 
 nothing by his own power. Is it so or not ?"



 
 ( 108 ) 
 
 The fakir began to muse for a> while on the subject, then, 
 after a short time, laughed and looked at the ignorant man, 
 and asked if those three were all the questions he had to ask. 
 " Yes, father," he replied " and their answer I have to re- 
 quest." 
 
 The fakir, looking here and there, took up a ball of clay, 
 which he aimed at the ignorant man's head with a force that 
 stunned him. The ignorant man began to make a great noise, 
 and to call out for help, crying and telling the village men that 
 the treacherous fakir had hit his forehead so hard a blow with 
 a stone, that he was quite faint. 
 
 When the men had heard his complaint, they began to call 
 the fakir all sorts of ill names, and to address him thus : " You 
 say that you are God's beggar, but your action which is so 
 culpable, shows that you have come from the kingdom of 
 Satan. We will take you away to the Cazi or Judge, and then 
 we will see who protects such a pretender." So the men beat 
 and dragged him before the Cazi of the place. The Cazi 
 inquired why they had offered insult and violence to the poor 
 fakir. The peoplesaid in their justification, ''Cazi Saheb, this 
 fakir is a pretender. He is of so violent a temper that he has 
 struck this poor fellow a severe blow with a stone on his fore- 
 head which had nearly killed him, and all this cruel usage he 
 has perpetrated, too, without the least provocation." 
 
 Hearing this explanation, the Cazi was highly enraged at 
 his audacity, and inquired in a boisterous manner, why the 
 fakir had inflicted pain without any reason for it. The fakir, 
 seeing and hearing things not quite consonant with the charac- 
 ter of a Cazi, told him that he too appeared to lack discretion. 
 The Cazi Saheb became more irritated at what he considered 
 the fakir's insolence. He remarked, " You, father, appear in 
 sheep's clothing, but the wolf is seen through the flimsy cover- 
 let. For what reason, and by what indications, do you recog- 
 nise me to be a man of perverted judgment ?"



 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 The fakir said, Be not angry, for anger is the symbol of weak- 
 ness. Pray, consider the truth strictly and reflect on the 
 subject of that man's three questions to me." 
 
 The Cazi calling the ignorant man, inquired what were the 
 questions which being put to the fakir, gave him offence, and 
 led him to retort so rudely. Hearing the three questions, the 
 the Cazi turning towards the fakir, asked : " Fakir Saheb, was 
 it proper for you to strike the man instead of answering 
 him ?" . 
 
 The fakir laughing said, " I have by that deed answered his 
 three questions already. His first question was show God to 
 me and tell me of what colour he is ? My answer is, show me 
 your pain and tell me of its colour, and I will show you God 
 and tell you of what colour He is. His second question was, 
 Satan is formed of fire, and hell is composed of the same ele- 
 ment, how then can fire make any impression on Satan ? My 
 answer is, man is admitted to have clay for his origin. This 
 man asserts that fire makes no impression on fire ; if so, a ball 
 of clay cannot hurt a body of clay. I did not use any stick or 
 sword to strike him, but a lump of clay. According to his 
 argument, therefore, I am justified, for I could not have hurt 
 him. His third question was, whatever is being done in the 
 world, is executed by God himself and not man, for man is im- 
 potent and can do nothing by his own power. My answer 
 is, if nothing is done by man, then I have not struck him, but 
 God, according to his showing, and I am therefore guiltless 
 of his accusation."



 
 AN OLD MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 DECREPID old man and his wife who were residing in a 
 dense jungle, received a supply of their wants from God> 
 for he mysteriously furnished them daily with a oake of 
 bread. This gift from his bounty they divided between them- 
 selves ; one-half the husband enjoyed, and the wife partook of 
 the other, satisfying their thirst from the water of a pellucid 
 brook which stood in their neighbourhood. One day as the 
 couple were seated conversing in their little hut, the old man 
 heard the voice of a young boy, who called out, " Father, may 
 I come in." The old man hearing this familiar address, was 
 not only surprised but also annoyed, thinking that they were 
 provided with just that quantity of bread which sufficed for 
 their own wants, and what then could be done for their unex- 
 pected intruder, who had come to diminish their small allow- 
 ance by claiming a share. He took no notice of the call, but 
 the heart of the old woman was touched with sympathy. " Old 
 man," she said, " we get the cake without our own labour and 
 seeking. What we obtain so freely and generously, let us not 
 grudge to share with the little boy. He might be a comfort 
 to us in our isolation from society, and prove to be greatly use- 
 ful in the hour of our highest need. Pray, invite him in ; my 
 half share of cake I will joyfully divide with the lad, for in 
 this forest he must starve, and die without our assistance." 
 The boy was invited to go in, and the inquiry was instituted 
 how he had come into such a desolate place. He said, " I 
 was led by some unknown person up to the gate, when he left 
 me, and vanished from my sight. I do not know who he is- 
 I rather think God sent me here." Thus the boy was fed every 
 day with a quarter of the cake and some fruits from the woods, 
 until he grew up to years of discretion, and became thoughtful 
 and reflective.



 
 One day, the boy told his foster parents that he could not re- 
 main any longer idle and dependent on them, nor take a share 
 of the cake which was their portion, and which was barely 
 sufficient for their own sustenance. Now that he was strong 
 and big, he should be permitted to go to Gk>d himself, and ask 
 Him to grant him his portion of a cake such as they were al- 
 lowed. " Do not prevent me," said he, " from seeking out 
 God and presenting my request personally." " Why will you 
 leave us," they said, " and expose yourself to danger and 
 privation. Why leave us to endure the agitation of mind which 
 a constant apprehension that you may be in want and suffering 
 would create, and why, alas ! are you not satisfied with the little 
 we receive from God, when we get it so easily ? However 
 small the supply, he has supported us so long, and with such 
 regularity, that we have never been under any apprehension 
 that He will fail us. Be content and give up all thoughts of 
 your perilous journey." Their persuasive eloquence was lost 
 upon him, for he was determined to seek God, and make his 
 wants known to him personally. The old couple, at his de- 
 parture, gave him their benediction that he might be guarded 
 from harm, meet with a prosperous journey and success in his 
 undertaking. 
 
 For three whole days he was trudging through the woods. 
 On the fourth day when he had traversed the entire length of 
 the forest, on its skirts he saw a tree withered down to the 
 very root and fit only for fuel. The tree asked the youth where 
 he was going to. The youth replied that he was going to God 
 to ask Him to give him his portion of cake. The tree hereupon 
 said, " If you are going to God, pray take this petition from 
 me. Tell him, if you please, that I bear neither blossom nor 
 fruit, and I am stripped of my garment of leaves. I am be- 
 come useless and hateful to men, beasts, and birds. I afford 
 no refreshment to any being, nor does the most despicable rep- 
 tile seek shelter, as I have none to offer." Promising to make 
 the complaint of the tree known to God when the youth



 
 ( 112 ) 
 
 met Him, he continued his journey through the tangled 
 creepers and bushy herbage. He had not proceeded far when 
 he beheld a tiger lying on his path in the helpless condition 
 of a cripple. The tiger asked whither he was going. The youth 
 answered that he was going to meet God and to ask Him to 
 send his share of cake for support. " Go, my son," rejoined the 
 tiger, " and lay my distress before Him, and bring me the relief 
 I need, when you return again. I have lain here these twelve 
 years, unable to stir or walk about, and rendered helpless from 
 the loss of the use of my legs. There is no other path but this 
 near me ; pass this way." The youth hesitated, and evinced some 
 symptoms of fear at his friendly request, but the tiger, to allay 
 his needless alarm, added, " When I call you my godson, I can 
 do you no harm. Pass near me without any apprehension, but 
 do not fail to remember my miserable situation, and speak on my 
 behalf." The youth consenting to remember his case, proceeded 
 in his search after God. On quitting the forest, he beheld lawns 
 carpeted with the verdure of a vivid green, on which calves 
 and lambs sported with the buoyancy and hilarity of young 
 life, while ewes and cows lay ruminating with eyes half closed , 
 perfectly indifferent to the sport carried on by some crows 
 which hopped and pecked about their backs and ears. He was 
 delighted to see men moving here and there over the ample 
 fields, some cultivating the land with high anticipations of a 
 future golden harvest, some hopeful in sowing the seed, and 
 some active and joyous in reaping the products of a their labour. 
 He was glad to have arrived in the vicinity of habitable place. 
 In passing near the house of the chief man of the village, he 
 was asked, where he was going to. and he replied, as before 
 that he was going to meet God and to ask Him to help him. 
 " If you are going to Him," said the rich man, " pray, take my 
 petition with you. I have erected a temple for His worship, but 
 the dome tumbles down every night regularly, and every day I 
 am compelled to build it up again." Consenting to be the 
 bearer of the rich man's complaint, he departed from the



 
 habitations of men, and entered another forest of primeval 
 grandeur, but still gloomier than the one he had traversed be- 
 fore. After a few strides into the woods, he came suddenly 
 before an object which was revolting to his feelings. He saw a 
 man covered with leprosy, with eruptions breaking out in all 
 parts of his body, and bleeding in different places. The heart 
 of the youth was moved with feelings of sympathy and compas- 
 sion. He asked the man why he was lying in such an uncon- 
 genial place. The sick man replied, " Where else can I go ? 
 Wherever I show myself, I am loathed for my sickness, and 
 people pass me at a distance to avoid contact and contamination. 
 Whose help can I therefore calculate upon ?" The youth collect- 
 ed a large heap of leaves and wild flowers, and desiring the 
 man to seat himself upon it, hurried away in the direction of 
 the nearest village. From thence he brought a pot, some water, 
 and a burning coal, after which he set the water boiling, and 
 when it had acquired the temperature he desired, he tore out a 
 fragment of his garment, and commenced to sponge the ulcers. 
 Under this operation, the sores began to heal and a gold-like 
 complexion to appear. The sick man then asked the youth 
 whither he was bound. The youth replied that he was going 
 to God to ask Him for his portion of cake. The person who 
 had assumed the form of a leper, told him that his prayer was 
 heard, and his request granted. " Who are you to say so ? 
 I am going to see Grod and ask Him that favour myself." " I 
 am His messenger sent to meet you, and to try you." " I cannot 
 believe unless you reveal yourself." Upon this he disclosed 
 a refulgent form, which satisfied the desire of the youth and 
 confirmed his belief. Being advised to return to his foster 
 parents, the youth humbly laid before him the perplexity of 
 the rich man, the infirmity of the tiger, and the barrenness of the 
 tree. With regard to the chief man of the village, he was in- 
 formed " Tell the chief that he has a grown up daughter, who, 
 after the amusements of the day, retiring to her dormitory at 
 night, heaves a long deep sigh of sorrow and anguish, at which 
 15



 
 time the dome falls. Desire him to marry his daughter to a 
 worthy man, and the accident will cease the day her sigh 
 ceases. The tiger is suffering from the lodgement of some 
 thorns of the cactus in his paws. Have the thorns extracted, 
 and the animal will recover the use of his limbs. The tree is 
 a wicked sinner who is standing over a mass of wealth, 
 which he cannot use himself, nor will he permit others to 
 appropriate it to legitimate objects and useful purposes, so that 
 by its wide circulation, thousands of indigent people might 
 be benefited. As he has grasped the whole under the embrace 
 of his avaricious roots, his own life has become barren, his leaves 
 withered, his branches unfruitful, a despicable object in him- 
 self, and a useless thing in the company of his numerous 
 companions of the forest. Desire him to remove himself to a 
 short distance from the spot, and to allow some one to take 
 away that money, and the tree will then thrive with a greater 
 luxuriance, and flourish with a higher degree of fecundity." 
 Having obtained these instructions and received an answer 
 to his petition, he returned homeward with sentiments of grati- 
 tude welling up in his heart towards the divine bestower of 
 all good. He met the wealthy man on his return to the village. 
 After being entertained by the chief, he enquired what was 
 said about his peculiar case. The youth told him, the answer 
 received was, that he had a daughter who had arrived at years 
 of womanhood, and who by her nocturnal sighs, caused the fall 
 of the dome. " Give her in marriage to a worthy man, and as 
 her sighs cease, so will the falling down of the pinnacle be 
 stayed." The rich man observed to the youth, that he knew 
 very few persons of that character, and none among them 
 worthier than he, for he who sought Grod diligently, must ever 
 after walk in the path of life with integrity of heart, simplicity 
 of manners, and honesty of purpose. The rich man marrying 
 his daughter to him, gave his son-in-law wealth, elephants, 
 horses, and a body-guard. The period of six months was 
 spent agreeably and happily under his roof; after which the



 
 ( 115 ) 
 
 youth asked leave to go to his foster parents, and his wife not 
 willing to remain even a few months behind, joined him 
 in his journey. While his camp was directed to take the main 
 road, he continued his walk through the forest. The disabled 
 tiger was seen at the same spot, who with eagerness desired 
 to be informed what the result was of his visit. The youth 
 desired him to hold out his paws, and in examining them, he 
 found some thorns of the cactus festering in them, which he 
 extracted carefully. The tiger being relieved from the pain, 
 stood erect, and, with an elastic spring, fell on a calf and bore 
 away the prize into the nearest thicket to enjoy a feast. Con- 
 tinuing his journey, he approached the tree, and communicated 
 what he had heard was the reason of its decadence. The tree 
 proposed that, as none was worthier to receive the wealth, 
 while he moved away from the spot, the youth should order 
 his men to remove the money. When the tree had given up 
 its hold of the mass of silver which lay below, by withdrawing 
 its fibrous entanglements, it put forth a vigorous growth of 
 foliage. The youth now sent for his guards who could be seen 
 through a vista in the forest, encamped on the neighbouring 
 plain. They dug up a large quantity of money, and with his 
 wealth and attendants, he went to meet the old couple ; they 
 were bewildered at all they saw and heard. The youth address- 
 ed his foster parents thus : " It is no longer necessary for us 
 to inhabit this wilderness ; let us go and build a house in the 
 next village." A fine mansion being rapidly erected, which 
 money only could achieve, they lived in it, surrounded with 
 comfort, and enjoying every happiness this world could bestow. 
 The old man and woman often reflected in their quiet musings, 
 that to befriend one in utter destitution, and to be a father to 
 an orphan, was an act with which Grod was well pleased, and 
 testified His pleasure by the communication of His blessings. 
 
 [This tale appears to me to have been derived from the monks, or priests, 
 who had in their early intercourse with the natives, or the first Christian con- 
 verts, communicated it to them, they in their turn to others. I am of this 
 opinion, not only from the structure of the story, but from the use and adop- 
 tion of the term god-son.]



 
 THE STORY OP A BRAHMIN AND BRAH- 
 MINEE. 
 
 RAJAH who had established a large bazar, ordered 
 his men, saying " Whatever may remain unsold in the 
 market until the evening, purchase the whole up from the 
 venders on my account, that the poor may not suffer from loss 
 and disappointment." 
 
 There was a Brahmin and Brahminee living in the town, 
 who were in great destitution, so much so, that if by any means 
 they had obtained sufficient food one day, they went starving the 
 two following days. The Brahmiuee. who was skilful in devices 
 when pushed to extremity, desired her husband to procure her 
 some branches of the broad leafed plantain, and a new pot. 
 Taking the leaves, she tied them into small bundles, these she 
 placed in the new pot, then she covered the pot with a leaf, and 
 fastened the lid by a string. After this operation, she instruct- 
 ed the ^Brahmin to take it to the Rajah's bazar, taking care 
 never to uncover the lid, but to sell it as it was. Should any 
 purchasers inquire what article it contained, he was to tell them 
 .that he had collected his misfortunes and taken them for sale. 
 Hearing this, some laughed, aud others wondered at his singular 
 conduct, telling him that he must be an idiot to believe that he 
 could find any customers in the market to purchase such a ware ; 
 that they would rather flee from its very presence ; and that 
 every one had his own share of misfortune from which they 
 would, if they could, extricate themselves, rather than bear the 
 burden of another man's ill-luck ; for every man's burden 
 was more than sufficient for his own back. 
 
 The Brahmin could make no reply to these just assertions. 
 He remained silent, but when any new customer approached 
 him and his pot to learn what it contained, he told them that



 
 ( 117 ) 
 
 he had come to dispose of his misfortune. In this manner the 
 day declined, and his singular article remained unsold, and he 
 was almost the only man sitting in the bazar, when the sircar 
 of the bazar, agreeably to the Rajah's orders, came to see if 
 there was any tradesman in the place who had not disposed of 
 his goods. Fiudiug- the Brahmin seated quietly with his pot, 
 he enquired what that was which he had brought for sale, how 
 much he had sold, and what quantity remained unsold. The 
 Brahmin answered that he had sold nothing, and had brought 
 that for sale, of which he had more than enough at home, and 
 would gladly part with all. " What is that ?" asked the bazar 
 sircar. " Misfortune," was the Brahmin's rejoinder. Such a 
 novelty for sale, puzzled the sircar not a little. He felt it to 
 be his duty to inform the Rajah of this unusual incident, aa 
 without it he deemed he was not at liberty to purchase misfor- 
 tune for the Rajah, and to hoard it up with his other stores. 
 He told the Rajah that a poor Brahmin had taken a pot to the 
 bazar which he said contained a stock of misfortune ; but not 
 effecting a sale, he was still in the bazar with it. What the 
 sircar should do in this particular case, was what he was desir- 
 ous of learning. The Rajah told him, "Never mjfid, take it, 
 for I have passed the order that whatever is brought to my 
 bazar for sale, if not sold, I would be the purchaser. I caunot, 
 therefore, violate this order without incurring censure for pre- 
 varication." The sircar went back to the Brahmin, and asked 
 him what he would take for his ware. He demanded one 
 thousand rupees. The sircar was surprised to hear so exorbi- 
 tant and preposterous a demand. " What is this that you ask !" 
 remarked the sircar, adding, " Do you think you could readily 
 find a customer to purchase your poverty, or gladly take dis- 
 tress upon their own shoulders." The Brahmin, not at all 
 disconcerted, replied : " If I sell at all, it must be for that sum, 
 and not a cowree less, otherwise the object for which I have 
 brought it for disposal, will be defeated. If I sell, I intend 
 thereby to divest myself of a weight too insupportable for me



 
 to sustain. By selling for less, I would consent to take back a 
 portion of my misfortune to my house and family, which I do 
 not purpose to do." The sircar, finding that he could not bring 
 the Brahmin to his terms, had need to go to the Rajah again, 
 and communicate his difficulties and his failure in making rea- 
 sonable arrangements with the Brahmin. The Rajah desired 
 his sircar to pay the amount asked by the Brahmin for his ware, 
 and to deposit it among his other articles. One night, when 
 the sky was clear and serene, and the stars shone brightly from 
 the vault of heaven, bathing the whole country in a soft flood 
 of bewitching radiance, the Rajah finding all his efforts to court 
 sleep ineffectual, got up and seated himself iu one of the bal- 
 conies of the palace, to contemplate the beauty of so fine a 
 night. He then beheld the figure of a stately female, majestic 
 in motion, lovely in aspect, attired in a flowing garb, proceed- 
 ing from the palace in a direction away from it. Her counten- 
 ance was illumined with the lustre of benevolence and joy. The 
 Rajah called and asked her who she was, and whither she was 
 going? " My name," she said, " is Luckee Fortune. I am 
 departing from your palace because you have admitted and are 
 sheltering I^isfortune. Our characters are antagonistic to each 
 other. Beneath the same roof we can never dwell together.'' 
 After some days the Rajah met Dhormo Piety, going out of 
 the palace after the same manner as Luckee did. He enquired 
 where she was going? Piety answered, "I am going away 
 from your palace because you have sheltered Misfortune." The 
 Rajah was very sad at these occurrences. He addressed the 
 form which personified Piety " Pray, tell me he said what 
 evil I have been guilty of, that you are departing from my 
 house after a period of so long a residence ? I am conscious 
 of having done nothing to upbraid myself with, on the contrary 
 by keeping my word and fulfilling my promise, I have done 
 that which is laudable and esteemed pious." After his explana- 
 tion, Piety, finding that she had no just reason to abandon the 
 Rajah's house, went back and remained in her hallowed retire-



 
 ment. As Fortune generally resides in places where Piety 
 puts up, Lm-kce returned to the palace and remained in the 
 society of Piety, being as they were inseparable companions. 
 Seeing Luckee back again, the Rajah asked the reason of her 
 returning. She replied that she was one of Dhormo's connec- 
 tions, and therefore in whatever place she took up her abode^ 
 Luckee must also reside. Thus the Kajah in no way came to 
 suffer on account of his just, truthful, and benevolent conduct, 
 but on the contrary, prospered more and more by the benign 
 influence of his heavenly guests. 
 
 RAJAH NUL. 
 
 PIOUS Rajah lived in the southern provinces of India, 
 who governed his country with equity, and who dispensed 
 charity with a liberal hand, in order that his benevolence might 
 ameliorate the sufferings of the poor and the destitute. He had 
 a daughter who was celebrated for her personal charms, praised 
 for her good conduct, and who was married to a Rajah of a neigh- 
 bouring country. Rajah Nul, while at his durbar, saw a strange 
 looking person one day, who was having an altercation with 
 the guards in his attempt to obtain an interview with somebody 
 of the court. He commanded his men who were near his per- 
 son, to bring the man up to him. On his coming before the 
 guddy, he was asked what was the motive of his visit, and what 
 complaint he had to offer ? The stranger replied, that he was 
 weary with wanderingfrom country to country for thepurpose of 
 selling his misfortune, but he could meet with no purchaser any 
 where, and as a last resource, having heard of the Rajah's gener- 
 ous disposition and pious habits, he was encouraged to come to 
 him. Being questioned for what sum he would sell his mis- 
 fortune, the man replied that he wanted three lacs of rupees.



 
 ( 120 ) 
 
 The Rajah ordered his Dewan to weigh out that sum and give 
 it to the man. The man receiving the money with many 
 sataams, quitted the durbar, repeating a long string of eulogis- 
 tic phrases. Rajah Nul, on waking up next morning, received 
 intelligence from a servant, that all his elephants, camels, 
 horses, and cattle, had died during the night. It was reported 
 to him a short time after, that his Khazanchi on opening the 
 treasures, found to his alarm and grief, that all the wealth of 
 the Rajah was turned into coal and ashes. The Rajah reflect- 
 ed for a while ; then, addressing the Ranee, " I have little 
 reason," said he, " to complain against these calamities which 
 have come upon me. To help another man in trouble, I wil- 
 lingly purchased his misfortune. But all things are at the 
 disposal of Him who rules the universe. We have long enjoyed 
 prosperity, and therefore ought not to repine if the wheel of 
 fortune has turned against us. We have lost all that we pos- 
 sessed in this place, and it has hecome painful to me to remain 
 here any longer to see the wreck of our property, and need- 
 lessly sigh over our losses ; let us depart hence, and seek our 
 livelihood in other countries.." The Rajah and Ranee got out one 
 night undeB secresy and cover of darkness, and commenced 
 their journey in the garb of mendicants. The first place they 
 arrived at in their aimless journey, was the residence of their 
 daughter who had married a Rajah. Some men, more shrewd 
 than others, recognizing Rajah Nul, ran and announced to 
 the Ranee, that her parents were coming to her on a visit, and 
 that they were already in the avenue of the road leading to 
 the palace. The daughter went out to the balcony to see if 
 the announcement was true. She was surprised to discover two 
 travellers, dressed in very humble clothing, advancing towards 
 the palace. Being told that they had fallen from their former 
 affluence, and were now reduced to trouhle and want, she went 
 rapidly into her apartments, where she placed a heap of gold- 
 mohurs on a large rich salver, and covering them up with some 
 confections, sent them as a present to the travellers. Rajah



 
 Nul, on receiving the gift from his daughter, uncovered it, and 
 found nothing but a mass of coals. He buried the contents 
 of the salver under the nearest tree, and then dismissing the 
 man with thanks, remarked to the Ranee, that as their fate had 
 undergone a change, they would meet with a succession of mis- 
 fortunes, and would find all things prove adverse to their 
 wishes. " Do what we may," said the Rajah, " if (rod's blessing 
 is not upon us, all that we touch will dissolve, and all we attempt 
 to taste will slip from our lips, or turn into gall. In our alter- 
 ed circumstances, our reception might not be all that we could 
 desire from our daughter ; let us, therefore, not obtrude our 
 society on her." They got away from the palace, therefore, and 
 took the road to the fields. By a rivulet that glided noise- 
 lessly under weedy aquatic plants, some men sat angling 
 They had caught a few fishes, and as the travellers were not 
 only weary of their long tedious trudge, but hungry, the Rajah 
 made himself bold to ask for a couple to roast, in order to 
 appease the cravings of their empty stomach. But they declined 
 to be liberal with that which was inadequate for the wants of their 
 own families. " I have failed in my attempt to move their com- 
 passion," said the Rajah ; " will you try and ask them now ; it 
 may be that they may be more propitious to your solicitation." 
 The Ranee, screwing up her courage, asked the favour. They 
 were not so ungallant as to refuse her, but their assent was 
 given conditionally, that is, that they would give her the next 
 two that they caught. On receiving the two they took them to 
 a short distance, and while the Ranee was lighting a fire, the 
 Rajah said that he was going for a short stroll into the fields, and 
 would come back when the repast got ready. As soon as the 
 Ranee had finished her culinary operation, and had left the 
 fishes on a plantain leaf to cool, they vanished from the leafy 
 plate in an unaccountable manner. She was at a loss what to 
 tell the Rajah when he came back for dinner. On returning 
 from his short walk, he requested that their breakfast table 
 should be spread. The Ranee begged that he would not be 
 16



 
 ( 122 ) 
 
 displeased, as, feeling unusually hungry, she could not refrain 
 from eating both the fishes. The Rajah knew too well that she 
 could never have done that, but that some accident must have 
 occurred, and her story was but an excuse. He said nothing, 
 but after resting for a short time, they rose up to pursue their 
 journey. After a walk of a few miles, they met with some 
 fowlers who were entrapping partridges, and who had succeeded 
 in bagging several. The Rajah again asked for some part- 
 ridges, but he met with the same disappointment as before. 
 The Ranee however succeeded in obtaining a brace. When 
 they were being roasted on a slow fire, the Ranee proposed 
 that she should go and take a turn in the fields until the time 
 the game was dressed. The Rajah took them up from the 
 fire when they were sufficiently roasted, and placed them on 
 some leaves to cool. They had not rested on the leaves for two 
 seconds, when they vanished away as the fish did before. Now 
 the Rajah understood what had happened to the fish. He 
 mused on the variableness of human affairs, and moralised on 
 the vicissitudes of life. Misfortunes, he thought, never ap- 
 proach singly, but ever bring a prolific progeny of ills ; they 
 descend not by drops, but pour down as copiously as the rattling 
 showers on a summer day. They were destined now to meet 
 with disappointment from every quarter, even from what in 
 happier days would have tended to usher in success, where success 
 was little expected, or calculated upon or desired. The Ranee 
 coming back from her walk, sat in silent expectation of dinner, 
 but the husband resorted to the same excuse, and the Ranee 
 remained mute on the subject, being confirmed in her surmise, 
 that the game had taken wing and disappeared, as the fish had 
 done, all owing to their fortune being reversed. 
 
 Traversing through the grass plain, the Rajah visited one of 
 his best friends, whose mental and social merits he was eloquent 
 in praising. The friend received them with sincere cordiality, 
 lamented over the recital of their misfortune, and made them 
 a generous offer of his house. When the Rajah and Ranee had



 
 ( 123 ) 
 
 retired for the night into one of the spacious rooms, and while the 
 former was lying wakeful a good portion of the night, how great 
 was his admiration in beholding an artificial peacock, decorated 
 with real or mock gems, that glistened with the reflection of 
 the light in the apartment with a meteoric refulgence. It stood 
 on a pedestal, and had a costly garland suspended round its neck. 
 The peacock began, after a while, to move and rustle its gor- 
 geous plumage, and then to swallow the garland. This novel 
 vision quite bewildered the senses of the Rajah. He courted 
 sleep, but the coy visitor fled from his longing lids. As the morn- 
 ing began to dawn, he related to the Ranee the strange things 
 that had transpired during the night. The necklace was 
 missing from the neck of the peacock in the morning, and none 
 but they were responsible. " If I mention this curious occur- 
 rence to my friend, he will scarcely believe that which is so 
 preposterous ; we had therefore better get away, and let time 
 clear up the mystery/' They therefore stole away quietly like 
 people who had perpetrated a crime. 
 
 They strolled about for some time till they saw a shop, 
 where a man prepared and sold parched rice, peas, and corn. 
 The seller of these light refreshments called out to them, and 
 asked if they were seeking employment, or for what purpose 
 were they loitering about the place. The Rajah was glad to 
 get an engagement, and he therefore accepted the offer of 
 the pea-man gladly, residing with him, and holding his situation 
 for some months. The reflections of the Rajah now became more 
 cheerful and hopeful. " I think, Ranee," said the Rajah one 
 day," that now that we have descended to the last step of the 
 declining ladder, our prospect seems to be improving. The 
 first indication that the cloud over our head is dispersing is, that 
 unsought I have obtained an employment ; the next token is, that 
 we have succeeded in getting our meals, and they have not taken 
 their flight on our approach. Let us now pay a visit to our 
 friend, and watch the signs of our present destiny by what 
 may happen to us there." As they were leaving his house,



 
 ( 124 ) 
 
 they thanked the pea-seller for his kindness with a promise 
 that if their circumstances should ever improve, they would 
 express their gratitude in a more substantial manner than by 
 mere words. Visiting his friend, the Rajah was gratified to 
 find his reception as cordial as before, and as if nothing had 
 transpired from the time of their first visit. His friend was 
 desirous of learning the reason of their abrupt departure, but 
 refrained from pressing them for an explanation just then, 
 saying that it would be ample time on the morrow for them to 
 satisfy his curiosity, after they had refreshed themselves, and rest- 
 ed for the night. Overcome with the fatigues of the journey, the 
 Rajah had a profound sleep of several hours, but when towards 
 morning he had unclosed his eyes, the first object on which 
 they rested, was the peacock, which was now seen to disgorge 
 the necklace, inch by inch. Before it had put out the entire 
 necklace, the Rajah went and awoke his friend to witness the 
 extraordinary feat of his peacock. The Rajah now explained 
 to his friend, that the disappearance of the necklace from the 
 room in which they slept, and for which he could assign no 
 rational and satisfactory solution, was his only reason for depart- 
 ing without inviting observation, leaving the affair in the custody 
 of time for its clearance and solution. His friend gently chided 
 him for his weakness and want of confidence in his friendship. 
 
 Several days were spent very pleasantly and profitably in 
 converse with his friend, after which, the Rajah, with some 
 difficulty, obtained the consent of his friend for their departure. 
 Passing the grass fields in which the partridges had been 
 roasted, they were astonished to see the vanished game lying 
 on the leaves just as they had been placed. The famished 
 travellers did not hesitate for a moment to appease their inward 
 craving, but enjoyed the refreshment with a high zest. Fur- 
 ther on, as they reached the place near the rivulet where the 
 fishes were broiled, they were found untouched on the plantain 
 leaf. Partaking of such fare on the road, they came to the tree 
 near which the goldmohurs, which the Rajah's daughter had



 
 ( 125 ) 
 
 sent, were buried. They dug the place, and found the gold 
 coins glittering on the salver. Placing the whole in their 
 knapsacks, they went and furnished themselves with dresses 
 which suited their rank and station. Being equiped from head 
 to feet with becoming apparel, they visited the Rajah who was 
 married to their daughter. Things having taken a propitious 
 turn, their reception was warm, affectionate, and dutiful. 
 Rajah Nul now no longer doubted that he would find affairs 
 prosperous in his domain. After their visit to their daughter, 
 where a fortnight was spent very pleasantly, they left her for 
 their own kingdom. Arriving at their palace late one evening, 
 the servants who had lingered about the place, recognised the 
 Rajah and Ranee, and manifested great joy on their return. 
 It was discovered in the morning that the Rajah's wealth and 
 the valuables contained in the Khazdna-E liana had under- 
 gone another transmutation, by which their property had 
 acquired its original quality and value. The Rajah's latter 
 condition became in a few years more prosperous than it had 
 ever been at any previous time. The promise he had made to 
 the pea-seller, was fulfilled in the grant of a pension to him 
 for life. The Rajah lived a wiser and a better man for the trials 
 through which he had passed, and the experience he had gained. 
 His fame for benevolence, unselfishness, and many other virtuous 
 qualities, obtained for him a world-wide reputation, and won 
 him the regard and respect of all his subjects.



 
 ( 126 ) 
 
 THE STORY OP A PRINCE AND THE SON 
 OP A VIZIER. 
 
 BADSHA had a son, who, being his only child, was 
 loved by the father with strong affection. This feeling so 
 obscured his judgment, that he became blind to his defects, and 
 indulged the son in his follies and extravagances. It was the 
 will of Providence that his Vizier had also an only child, a son. 
 These youths, the Prince and the Vizier's son, daily attended 
 the same place of instruction, and by this means their friendship 
 became so closely cemented, that they did nothing without 
 doing it together walking, eating, sitting, or sleeping. It is 
 most frequently the case that the son of a wealthy parent, hav- 
 ing nothing to aspire after, becomes perfectly indifferent to 
 studies that exalt the mind and rectify the conduct; while the 
 eon of a man of moderate fortune, or no fortune, under the 
 apprehension of want, and with an ambition to ascend up to 
 distinction and independence, puts forth an effort which seldom 
 fails to procure him that for which he aspires and labours. 
 While the young Prince gave indications of improvement in 
 polished manners, and in the refinements of the Court, and had 
 inherent good qualities of the heart, he was silly, and not so 
 wise and prudent as it might have been expected considering 
 his fair opportunities. His friend, on the other hand, neglected 
 no opportunity of adding to his stock of general knowledge 
 and experience, and thus, though young, manifested on all 
 occasions a sound mind, a correct judgment, and a becoming 
 demeanour. 
 
 In one of their private walks and familiar conversations, the 
 Prince spoke to his companion in the following manner: " 
 Vizier's son ! I wish you to make me a promise." The Vizier's 
 son asked, " Tell me if you please what it is, for you can com-



 
 ( 127 ) 
 
 mand my service and obedience at all times." The Prince said 
 that in the event of his being the first to get married, he would 
 send the princess to the abode of the Vizier's son on a visit ; but 
 should the latter marry first, he must not fail to send his wife to 
 the Prince's residence soon after the celebration of his wedding. 
 Hearing this preposterous proposal, the son of the Vizier thought 
 in his own mind that the Prince was not only obtuse, but tho- 
 roughly void of understanding, and was without a grain of re- 
 flection. It was never the custom that the Vizier's son ever mar- 
 ried before the son of the Badsha. The Prince becoming angry, 
 said to his friend, " Hear, son of the Vizier why have you not 
 made me a reply yet. If you will not make me the promise 
 on oath, then our friendship must cease, and I will annoy you 
 in every way." The Vizier's son laughing replied, " Take 
 my advice and banish this desire from your heart, because what- 
 ever oath or promise a man makes, it becomes imperative in 
 him to fulfil." The Prince getting irritated said to his friend, 
 " "Why do you multiply words unnecessarily, and invent ex- 
 cuses. Will you, or will you not make me the promise?" 
 His friend finding him persistent on the subject, addressed 
 him in a tone of displeasure, " Sir, give me time to consider 
 the subject, and I will make you the desired reply on the mor- 
 row." In the mean time, however, they passed the night in 
 their usual congenial conversation, and with friendly attentions 
 towards each other. Both the friends in the morning were 
 proceeding to the place of instruction. The Prince reminded 
 his friend on the way about his promise. "Pray, what 
 is your determination ?" The Vizier's son, to divert him 
 from his object, said, "Come let us be going to school." Arriv- 
 ing at the institution, the Prince said, "We have come to 
 school, now fulfil your promise." The Vizier's son observed, 
 " Sir, Prince, you will deeply regret this circumstance." After 
 this he meditated on the just remarks of the sages who have said, 
 * women cannot be shaken from their resolution, children are 
 headstrong, hogs are not diverted from their course, and kings



 
 ( 128 ) 
 
 are not thwarted in their wishes.' Having thought thus, he 
 took pen, ink, and paper, and placing them before the Prince, 
 desired him to write the agreement, he doing the same ; then they 
 exchanged papers. After this transaction, both the young men 
 continued for months and years in friendly intercourse, nothing 
 transpiring to mar their intimacy. It so happened afterwards 
 that a neighbouring Badsha began negociations with the father 
 of the Prince, the object of which was to solicit his son in mar- 
 raige with his daughter. The Badsha one day invited his son. 
 into his presence and informed him about the letter. The 
 Prince was alarmed to hear of it, and insisted that his father 
 should get his Vizier's son married first, and then, he said, he 
 would follow his example. The Badsha remonstrated against 
 the folly and imprudence of the Prince, saying that such a 
 thing was never heard of; -it was so unusual and reflected 
 disrespect, should a Yizier's son marry before the son of the 
 Badsha. " In that case," added the Prince, " I am in no haste 
 to marry." The Badsha permitted his son the period of two 
 months to consider the proposal of the king his friend, and then 
 to inform him of his resolution, that he might answer the letter. 
 After this conversation with his father, the Prince met his 
 friend. The Vizier's son seeing the Prince in a melancholy 
 mood, questioned him as to its cause, and the reason why he 
 was summoned by the Badsha. The Prince to conceal what 
 had transpired, observed that he had heard that the Vizier's son 
 was about to marry. His friend guessed what had actually 
 happened, and therefore remarked sarcastically, " Friend, I 
 hope you have not forgotten your agreement." The Prince 
 made no reply, but hung down his head. The shazadas, or 
 noblemen of the court and country, after repeated explanations 
 and wise counsels as to the propriety and policy of accepting 
 the overtures of the neighbouring Badsha, prevailed upon the 
 Prince to consent to the marriage, but the very thought marred 
 his peace, and drove sleep from his eyes for many nights. 
 After a chundroz, or few days, the wedding was celebrated with



 
 ( 129 ) 
 
 great pomp, festivity, and merriment. The Prince on return- 
 ing with his bride to the palace, and on alighting from his con- 
 veyance, ordered his bearers to take the palkee and bride to the 
 Vizier's son. The servants were amazed at this singular 
 order, but as they could not disobey their master's injunction, 
 they carried the conveyance to the Vizier's house in silent 
 wonderment. The Princess was thinking within the curtained 
 enclosure, of the reason for this strange conduct on the part of 
 the Prince. That there was some stringent reason for such a 
 procedure she could not doubt, but what that was she could by 
 no means discover. On arriving at the door of the house of the 
 friend of the Prince, the palkee was set down. The Vizier's 
 son hearing that the Princess had arrived, came forth from his 
 apartment with alacrity, to salute and welcome her. Coming 
 before the conveyance, he folding his hands as a token of 
 respect, solicited the Princess to favour him with her visit. She 
 said with dignified displeasure, " Who are you that you 
 should request me to come into your house. Should you again 
 repeat the request, I will put an end to your speech, and fill 
 your skin with bran ; or should you touch my palkee, I will 
 have nails driven into your fingers." Hearing this threatening 
 language, the Vizier's son lost courage and was confounded. 
 He began to reflect how he should proceed with this affair, when 
 thinking of the agreement, he placed it in the hands of her re- 
 tainers, and they conveyed it to the Princess. The Princess read 
 the contents of the paper, laughed, and thought within herself 
 that the duration of her trial was only for one night, it was a 
 small matter to manage. She summoned her attendants and 
 several of them appeared before the palkee to wait on her instruc- 
 tions. She desired them to go to the Vizier's son, and to request 
 him to take off all the old plaster from the walls of his house, and 
 to replaster them over again as soon as practicable. Hearing 
 of this command of the Princess, the Vizier's son was overjoyed. 
 He quickly sent for a large number of masons, and got the 
 work finished as soon as possible, and then sent a message to 
 17



 
 ( 130 ) 
 
 the Princess that it was executed. She sent her men to 
 inquire what hour of the night it was. They returned 
 saying that it was nine o'clock. Then the Princess again desired 
 her men to tell the Vizier's son to put a new roof to the 
 house, to wash the floors clean, and. get them to dry soon, or that 
 ehe would have his head blown away by a cannon. The Viz- 
 ier's son, quite glad, sent for numerous workmen, and ordered 
 the work to be completed with the utmost expedition. When 
 this order was accomplished, he sent word to the Princess. She 
 commanded her attendants to go again and enquire of the 
 Vizier's son what hour of the night it was. He informed her 
 that it was midnight. She then desired that he would have all 
 his chandeliers and all the lamps of the house, together with 
 the chair on which she was to sit, to be done up again with 
 fresh gilt and polish. This was also done. She then de- 
 sired to know what time it was. He said it was three o'clock. 
 The Princess once more ordered that the bed-steads should be 
 newly done up, the mattrasses, pillows and cushions, washed 
 and dried, and the furniture of the dormitory newly fitted up 
 expeditiously, otherwise she would have his face blackened, seat 
 him on an ass, and exhibit him in the morning, in a humiliat- 
 ing procession through the city. The Vizier's son thinking 
 that the affair was now coming to a favourable termination, 
 became happy, and very cheerfully ordered the things to be 
 done up as instructed. On the completion of the work, he 
 went to announce it. The Princess inquiring what o'clock it 
 was, heard the gun fire and announce the dawn of day. Just 
 then she commanded her attendants to lift up the palkee and to 
 proceed to the palace. The Vizier's son looking surprized, 
 asked her what she meant by it. The Princess said that the 
 night, which was his, according to the Prince's agreement, had 
 expired, and the day which had dawned, was the Prince's, there- 
 fore he must not stop her conveyance, but allow her to depart. 
 The Princess, going to the palace and not having slept for 
 some nights, soon fell into a sound slumber. The Prince hear-



 
 ing that she had come back, and seeing her fast asleep, thought 
 that she had diverted herself with many amusements, and was 
 therefore now weary and fast asleep. From inconsideration 
 and want of reflection and asking no questions, nor ascertain- 
 ing the facts from the Princess, or her attendants, he put her 
 into a chest in which there were holes in the lid, locked it up, 
 and sent it floating on the stream. In the mean time the fame 
 of the Princess for her virtuous conduct, and skilful device, 
 spread far and wide during the day, and it was also reported 
 everywhere that she had ably defeated the Vizier's son, and 
 taken herself back a virtuous, spotless person to the palace, 
 while the Prince was reproached for his imprudence and want 
 of judgment. The Prince hearing of his wife's laudable acts 
 and her good principles, regretted very much for his rashness; 
 tearing his dress in his grief, he put on humbler garments, and 
 thus equipped, he left the palace privately, following the course 
 of the meandering river, set out in search of his worthy wife. 
 
 The chest floated down with the rapid current, and driven 
 by the wind, went on till its progress was impeded by a ghat 
 at which a Prince of another country was beguiling his time 
 in the amusements of angling and playing upon his seetar. He 
 was surprised to see the chest,' which he ordered his men to 
 convey to his residence. Half a dozen of his servants bore it 
 tottering under its weight, for the chest itself was ponderous, 
 leaving alone the cargo with which it was freighted. The 
 Prince was surprised, on opening it, to see what it contained. 
 By the costliness of her dress, and the peculiar ornaments of 
 wedding jewellery she had on her, he discovered that she was a 
 person of no mean station, and that she must have been not many 
 days ago a bride of some noble family. Without askiug her 
 any questions, he supplied her with several kinds of delectable 
 viands that she might refresh herself, attended to all her com- 
 forts, and permitted her an undisturbed repose of several hours. 
 When this was done he visited her and enquired of her history. 
 The Princess said il All that I can at present recall to my mind, is,



 
 ( '32 ) 
 
 that I was married a few days ago, and while sleeping, was placed 
 in a chest, and thrown into the river. How I am come here, and 
 why I was sent away, I do not know ; these are mysteries." The 
 Prince could not long affect indifference to her uncommon 
 beauty. He was charmed with her intelligent conversation, de- 
 lighted with her winning manners, and amiable disposition. 
 Being inspired by her with sentiments of holy affection, he 
 desired to marry her ; but the Princess, like another Penelope, 
 contrived to keep him pacified by telling him " At present 
 suffer me to call you brother, and look upon me as your sister. 
 After the period of six months, should my husband not ap- 
 pear, and 1 get no intelligence of him, I will then consent to 
 be the wife of the man who has rescued me from a watery grave." 
 The Prince who, from the moment of this strange landing of 
 the beautiful Princess, had ordered the erection of a superb 
 mansion for her residence, and which he called, " The house 
 of the River Nymph," employed himself in directing the build- 
 ing of the new palace, that in busy occupation, the hours which 
 now hung on him with a leaden weight, might glide away 
 swiftly, ushering in the time on which was suspended all his 
 future happiness. In prosecuting this work, conducted upon a 
 large scale, artizans of several grades and different skill were 
 employed, together with a large number of operatives. One 
 of the workmen, meeting with a beggar on the road as he was 
 returning home from his day's vocation, was vexed to see a 
 robust, healthy young fellow sauntering about in the idle and 
 disgraceful employment of asking for alms, who, if he could do no 
 better, might easily employ himself as a labourer in the Prince's 
 service. " You idle fellow," thus he accosted the beggar, " do 
 you not feel ashamed to beg while you have those strong limbs 
 and possess health and a vigorous youth, when the whole country 
 is ringing with the report of the grand works, for which 
 there is a constant demand for able-bodied men. Were your 
 senses fast locked up by the fumes of gunjah that you 
 have not yet heard of the River Nymph's house!" When



 
 (133 ) 
 
 he heard all this, the fakir meditated in sadness and sorrow, and 
 imagined that she might perhaps be his own lost wife, in whose 
 search he had wandered so far away from his country and home. 
 Most joyfully he promised to be present at the spot on the 
 following morning, hoping thereby to obtain some information 
 about her, or even seeing her personally. Buoyed up with 
 this hope, the fakir, or Prince in disguise, commenced his work 
 with the labourers in supplying the masons with bricks. He 
 took care to locate himself near a spot from whence he might see 
 the Prince and Princess, playing some games in the verandah, 
 and superintending the work. 
 
 The Prince, while bearing the load of bricks, repeated 
 the following words in rhyme to himself, but which in 
 reality was applicable to the Princess, and the mason 
 whom he was assisting : "I have searched you through many 
 lands but had sought in vain take this load for your 
 erection," saying which he threw the bricks near the work- 
 man. The Princess, hearing the words, was not slow to 
 comprehend the meaning, nor to discover who was the labourer. 
 In this manner the Prince, whilst carrying the bricks, repeated 
 the couplet for three days. The Princess playing the game, 
 responded, " By skill delivered from dishonor, shut up and 
 flung away ; why is any search made now ? This is my move in 
 the game." The workmen daily heard the labourer muttering 
 strange things, but they could not comprehend their import, 
 nor could the Prince understand the enigmatical words 
 which the Princess repeated each day when playing the game, 
 so he got nettled, and closing the game abruptly, requested 
 her to clear the mystery. She informed him in a respectful 
 and grateful manner that she spoke to her husband, in answer 
 to his words, and that the labourer in^disguise was the Prince 
 to whom she was married. The Prince invited him to his 
 house, ordered a bath for him, and furnishing him with robes 
 of royalty, remarried him to the Princess Vith great pomp and 
 pageantry, merriment and festivity, for several days. After which



 
 ( 134 ) 
 
 the Prince and Princess took leave of their generous friend 
 with tears of gratitude, and professions of lasting frendship. 
 They went back to their own country, the Prince more 
 matured in understanding, and reformed from the frailties 
 of unthinking youth, by the lessons which bitter experience 
 and severe trial had taught him, and the Princess cheerful 
 in spirit and tranquil in mind, inspired by a sense of conscious 
 rectitude and fidelity. 
 
 A GRASS-CUTTER. 
 
 GRASS-CUTTER, with a net bag under his arm, who 
 was going to cut grass in a field with his sickle, meeting 
 with a few men seated by the road side, engaged in earnest 
 conversation, and hearing them mention " that the man who 
 trusts in God never fails to receive his share of food daily," 
 thought in his own mind that there was no longer any necessity 
 for him to go and cut grass. So, abandoning his work, he sat 
 quietly for two days, in the expectation that God would send 
 him his food. But though he did not find that his trust in 
 God was rewarded, he was not discouraged, but made up his 
 mind to continue in that place, and sat expectant for a few days 
 longer, believing that what he had heard from the lips of seve- 
 ral honest men, could not be wholly false, but that many of 
 them must have experienced the truth of it in their own lives. 
 While he was thus seated, silently meditating, an angel was 
 seen to descend and ask him what he was doing there. " I am 
 trying if what I have heard, be true or not. I have heard that 
 God sends food to those who place their trust in Him." " 1 
 am commissioned to inquire what you want." " I want no- 
 thing more than a loaf and a cup of water." The angel request- 
 ed him to suspend his net and sickle to the branch of a tree, 
 under which he was seated, promising to supply him with his



 
 ( 135 ) 
 
 requirements; and the bread and water was found ready, placed 
 for him regularly as each day revolved in its course. 
 
 A Badxlta, who had gone out for an evening promenade, 
 seeing a dead camel lying in his path, asked the men who sur- 
 rounded him, why it was lying so helplessly? They answered 
 it was dead. When the Badsha asked why it did not move and 
 go about, they told him that the life which had animated the 
 animal and caused his movement and actions, had departed ; 
 hence the body was brought to that state of helplessness. The 
 Badsha reflected that, if this was the condition to which life was 
 finally reduced, his wealth and kingdom were not worth keeping. 
 With this idea he dressed himself as a fakir, and went away 
 from his country wandering about in sadness and recklessness. 
 Approaching the spot where the grass-cutter was seated beneath 
 a tree, from the branch of which his net and sickle were sus- 
 pended, the Badsha thought of resting himself for a while ; but 
 the grass-cutter, seeing a stranger approaching him. just at the 
 hour when he was expecting his loaf and water, looked on him 
 with displeasure. He requested that the stranger would go to 
 a distance and rest himself under the next tree, as the one to 
 which he had come, was previously occupied. The Badsha, not 
 willing to dispute such small matters with a person who lacked 
 courtesy and did not possess a grain of sense, quitted it as he 
 was bid. When the supernatural visitor came who had brought 
 the grass-cutter his usual diet, he furnished the Badsha with 
 rich and varied viands. Witnessing this distinction made be- 
 tween them, the grass-cutter murmured, saying to himself, " I 
 have trusted in God so long, and am receiving only a loaf and 
 a cup of water, while that fellow, who has for the first day 
 commenced to place his confidence in Him, is treated so sump- 
 tuously." The angel being acquainted with his thoughts, 
 observed that the Badsha had abdicated his throne, wealth, 
 and kingdom, for the service of God, and having made such lar^e 
 sacrifices, was treated according to his position in life. There 
 was no injustice done to him, for what he had asked he received,



 
 ( 136 ) 
 
 and he was not more sparingly fed than he did before in his 
 former position in the world. There was no reason, the angel 
 added, for his murmuring aud envying the prosperity of others. 
 If he were dissatisfied with his portion, all he had to do was to 
 take down his net and sickle from the tree, and resume his 
 former labour. 
 
 THE STORY OP A LION. 
 
 <^F HERE was a lion and lioness who had a beautiful cub 
 ^k that pranced and played before his fond parents, de- 
 lighting them with his innocent, graceful gambols. The lion, 
 feeling that the infirmities of age were creeping gradually on 
 him, and that he must follow the course of all things, pay 
 the debt of nature, and be no more prowling with the tenants 
 of the forest, felt a paternal wish to leave some useful advice 
 to his progeny before Ee departed and was no more. 
 
 The lion, in his excursions with his mate and cub, addressed 
 the young one in these words : " We, my son, are lords of the 
 desert, and there is no one to dispute our right, or question 
 our supremacy. You have none to fear among the inhabitants 
 of this forest domain, but you have every reason to dread the 
 wickedness and prolific skill of human beings, and therefore 
 study to avoid them." 
 
 The cub grew up into vigorous maturity. Though his 
 parents died some months ago, he had not yet encoun- 
 tered a single human being whom his parent lion had 
 taught him to look upon with fear. He became very anxious 
 to see this strange animal called a human being, and for this 
 purpose he began to make a long journey through the forest, 
 resolving not to go back to his lair until his burning curiosity 
 was fully satisfied. Jogging on for miles, he saw a huge



 
 ( 137 ) 
 
 elephant coming towards him with a seemingly heavy tramp 
 munching branches of trees, and stripping smaller plants bare 
 of their bark and foliage. He stood looking at him for some 
 time intently, with fear in his aspect, thinking that this mons- 
 ter with his legs as thick as trunks of trees, might be a human 
 being of whom his father with good reason had cautioned him. 
 The elephant, on approaching the lion, evinced symptoms of 
 anxiety, and was about to turn into another direction, but the 
 lion hailed him and inquired if he was a human being. " Ah f 
 no, I am but an elephant. Human beings are very wicked 
 and ingenious. They have captured me and hundreds and 
 thousands like myself from ihe jungles ; they beat us with'rods 
 of iron whenever they wish, mount our necks, and burthen us 
 with heavy loads at their pleasure." The lion's curiosity was 
 still more excited by this relation of man's acts, and as this 
 huge monster was not a human being, what like might then 
 a human being be ? With these thoughts in his cranium 
 he proceeded on his journey with rapid strides, desirous that 
 he might quickly accomplish his design, then return to 
 his den, after having gained a knowledge of things, and 
 made acquaintance with all created beings. The next 
 object that presented itself to his anxious view was a stately 
 camel. This, thought the lion, may after all be a human 
 being. He began to look to the right and left as if wishing to 
 secure a safe retreat in case of danger, but these symptoms of 
 apprehension abated in some degree when he saw the animal 
 hesitating to approach. He called out to the camel and en- 
 quired if he was a human being ? The camel answered, " Not 
 I, for I am but a servant of human beings, and my whole race 
 are slaves in their service. They bore our noses, fasten us 
 with a string, and a boy may lead a hundred of us at his plea- 
 sure in any direction he pleases." The wondering lion went 
 on his search after a human being, and being now about a 
 mile from the verge of the jungle where a carpenter had pene- 
 trated to procure some logs of timber for his use, he saw him 
 18



 
 ( 138 ) 
 
 advancing in his direction, and instead of testifying any alarm 
 as he did when he met with the elephant and camel, he was 
 emboldened to present himself before the carpenter with an air 
 of supreme contempt. The carpenter was not at all disposed 
 to court his familiar approximation, and was therefore looking 
 up the tree near him to ascertain if it were feasible to mount it 
 in case of need. He was, however, encouraged to remain where 
 he was by the unrepulsive tones and waggish speech of the lion. 
 " Are you, you spindle-legged little fellow, a human being or 
 not ? If you are not, pray tell me where I may see one of 
 them ?" " Most certainly, friend ! I will show you a human 
 being." Telling him this, he took up his axe, and with a few 
 strokes at the root of a tree, felled it to the ground. Seeing 
 this operation, the lion began to admire the insignificant fel- 
 low's prowess in bringing the tree down with a thundering 
 crash. The carpenter then employed himself in making an in- 
 genious trap with two logs, and when the snare was completed, 
 he informed the lion that if he desired to see a human being, 
 he was ready to show him one. The lion was delighted with 
 the idea. The carpenter told him to put his neck through the 
 two logs and to look straight before him, when he would see a 
 true human being. The lord of the forest doing as he was bid, 
 gave the carpenter a fair opportunity to lock him up by his 
 neck. The lion in this sad fix had ample time to reflect on the 
 advice of his parent with a heavy and bitter sigh. Man, 
 though a diminutive being, has, by his wisdom and ingenuity, 
 a wide sway of mighty power. He saw that what strength 
 could not accomplish, skill could execute, and on that account 
 a human being was to be dreaded and avoided.



 
 ( 139 ) 
 
 A SIMPLETON. 
 
 the busy bustling bazar of a populous town, a simpleton 
 was seen to saunter about the place, evidently intent up- 
 on the execution of no particular object. A woman of middling 
 age, but cunning looks, and possessing much shrewdness and 
 penetration, was seen watching at the time his motions and 
 actions. She was acquainted with the private history of the 
 man, that is, his possessing some property, and his easy belief 
 in any fiction that might be framed to dupe him. She began to 
 cogitate by what scheme she might extract some money from 
 his hoard, and just as a taking device was planned in her own 
 mind, the simpleton wended his course in the direction of his 
 residence. She slided behind him with quiet stealthy steps, 
 and finding the street not thronged, she addressed him 
 " Where are you going, my son ? Have you purchased any 
 thing from the bazar ?" " No, I could not find anything to 
 suit my taste or answer my purpose." The artful woman ask- 
 ed why he did not marry, when ugly fellows, with crooked 
 backs, and bandy legs, were married, and had happy families. 
 The simpleton answered that he never thought on the subject, 
 not knowing where to find a wife, and whom to ask to marry 
 him. She promptly answered that she could get him a wife 
 from a good respectable house. The simpleton rejoiced to re- 
 ceive such good news, and asked her, therefore, what prelimi- 
 nary steps were necessary to be taken. She said it was necessary 
 to spend a hundred rupees, if he had that amount. Intending 
 to be the bearer of the overture of marriage, it would be indis- 
 pensable for her to put on a rich new suit of clothes, and take 
 some presents with her. He gave her the sum that was needed, 
 and told her to be expeditious with her negociation. She



 
 ( HO ) 
 
 brought the tidings after a few days, that his proposal was ac- 
 cepted. 
 
 After two months, the woman again paid him a visit, and 
 mentioned to him that his wedding would be celebrated on the 
 morrow. He was highly delighted to hear of it. He desired 
 to know what sum of money was required for its performance. 
 The artful woman told the green-horn that one hundred rupees 
 would suffice for dress, a few trinkets, and other contingent 
 expenses. He gave her that sum with pleasure, and she went 
 away exulting in her success. On her next visit she announced 
 that his wedding had been solemnized in a respectable manner, 
 and that as he was now married, she expected some reward for 
 having brought it to a happy conclusion. Highly gratified to 
 hear that he was married, he readily placed two mohurs in her 
 hand. Nine months had quietly waned away without afford- 
 ing the cunning hag an opportunity for exercising her tricks, 
 but in the tenth, she visited the dupe, to announce that he had 
 a nice son, the wife having given birth to a boy, a day before. 
 The joy of the man was boundless. He was anxious to know 
 what he was to do on such an occasion. She said that he must 
 provide her with one hundred rupees to meet expenses, paying 
 the midwife, nurse, and providing baby-linen. This sum he 
 handed to her with instructions that great care must be taken 
 of his wife and child. 
 
 The employer of the simpleton called him one day and gave 
 him instruction to go to a certain country, and execute a com- 
 mission for him there. Before his departure, therefore, he call- 
 ed the woman who brought about his marriage, and told her, 
 that as he was going on a long journey and might be away for 
 a protracted period, he was desirous of seeing his wife and 
 child before he set out. The artful woman requested him to 
 buy some fruit and sweetmeats for his wife and son, and when 
 he was ready to start, to inform her. He did so ; she conduct- 
 ed him some part of the way, when, seeing a fine boy near a 
 respectable looking house, she pointed to the lad, and said that



 
 that boy was his son, and his wife was in the same house. Leav- 
 ing him to meet his son, she slipped away from his society, and 
 disappeared into one of the bye-lanes. The father greeted the 
 boy, supposed to be his son, with true parental warmth, hug- 
 ging, caressing, kissing him for some time. The boy was 
 tractable and docile under the influence of the fruits and sweets 
 which were showered into his lap, otherwise he might have 
 resisted such unceremonious encroachment, and immoderate 
 liberty, particularly from a person with whom he was not fa- 
 miliar. "When the lad was released from the lap and embrace 
 of the simpleton, he ran to his mother, and with a gleesome 
 spirit poured out before her the contents of his frock. The 
 mother, seeing the things, thought that some friend of her hus- 
 band's had perhaps come on a visit. She called her maid, whom 
 she desired to take and offer a pipe to the man who was seated 
 in the verandah, and also to serve him with a bowl of milk and 
 a pack of cards to divert himself with until the return of her 
 husband from his morning walk. The simpleton was gratified 
 with the attentions of his wife, as he believed. He eyed the 
 milk and cards with much self-gratulation. When the pipe had 
 been released from his mouth, he drew the milk near, and think- 
 ing the fine cards to be some rare kind of edible, intended to 
 be used with milk, he took the pack, and tearing them up into 
 bits, put them to soak in the bowl. While conducting this 
 pleasant operation, the master of the house came home. He 
 saw the strange man, but so intent was he on his own business, 
 and absorbed with his own thoughts, that he passed him on his 
 way into the inner apartments without any notice. The mas- 
 ter of the house inquired of his wife who the man was who was 
 seen by him seated in one of the outer rooms. She informed him 
 that she was unacquainted with the man ; but believing that 
 he might be a friend of his, from the presents he had brought 
 for their son, she had ordered him a seat, and sent him some 
 refreshment. The master of the house then went and had an 
 interview with the simpleton, and asked, " Whose house are



 
 you in search of, and who are you ?" The simpleton, not at 
 all daunted with this, to him, strange query, made a counter 
 inquiry, " Pray, who are you, and what do you want here ?" 
 " I am the owner of the house." " You, the owner ! This is 
 my house, my wife is inside, and my child was just this mo- 
 ment with me." The master of the house, being a prudent 
 man, soon discovered that he was a simpleton who was imposed 
 upon by some artful person. " My good fellow," said the 
 owner in explanation, " this house is my property, and my wife 
 and children are within. This is a world of deceit and 
 deception. Some wicked person has no doubt played you a 
 trick, but have they cheated you of any money ?" The sim- 
 pleton related how an artful woman had deceived and drawn 
 from him at intervals of time, some four hundred rupees or more. 
 The man pitied his simplicity and loss, gave him that sum, 
 and cautioned him never more to listen to the flattering tales 
 of old women. 
 
 THE STORY OF A PRINCE. 
 
 n*^* | 
 
 N a country that is well watered by numerous streams and 
 their tributaries, is fruitful in every product of the field, and 
 thickly studded with luscious fruit trees in the vicinity of pasture 
 lands, a Rajah of ancient times chose for its being a pleasant situa- 
 tion for residence. His son, after his death, inherited his paternal 
 estates, but by misfortune or mismanagement, the property which 
 had descended to him, began to dimiinish gradually until the 
 Prince came into very straitened circumstances. As he was griev- 
 ing over his destiny late one evening, and was cogitating what 
 he should do to retrieve his fortune, he heard the voice of a fakir, 
 who was at the time passing near his residence. The words of



 
 ( 143 ) 
 
 the fakir were these : " Act according to circumstance ; never 
 forsake ready food ; clothe the naked ; be the road strait or 
 crooked, even or rugged, never proceed without premeditation." 
 The Prince, hearing these four wholesome maxims from the 
 fakir, called the Princess, and told her that it would be best 
 that they abandoned the country, because it was overcast with 
 murky clouds, and there was no ray of sunshine to illumine 
 the darkness of their hearts ; that the prospect before them was 
 gloomy, but perhaps in another country, the beams of Fortune 
 might once again reflect on them more benignantly and cheer 
 their sinking spirits." " In this country," remarked the Prince, 
 " we have nothing to hope for ; we are known to the inhabi- 
 tants of every house and hut, and should we seek any employ- 
 ment for our support, we will meet with disappointment on 
 account of our very rank, and thus starve in it ; but in a 
 strange kingdom, both you and I could work to provide our- 
 selves with our daily wants, besides, it would be carrying out 
 the precept of the fakir, ' Act according to circumstance.' " 
 The Princess consented readily to this reasonable proposal, 
 and so they set out with buoyant hope on their journey, un- 
 perceive by any one about the place. 
 
 Arriving in another country, they met with a few men of 
 the village, who inquired from whence they had come, whither 
 they were journeying, if they intended to remain in the village 
 permanently, and what they were going to do ? The Prince 
 replied, that they had come from a distant country in quest of 
 some employment, and be it of whatever description it might, 
 he was not too fastidious about it. One of the villagers offered 
 him a place in his house, saying that he could assist in the 
 operations of the field, while his wife might help the women in 
 bearing water for their use. The Prince and Princess became 
 reconciled to their new situation and its drudgeries, by remem- 
 bering the incidental instruction which the fakir had cornuni- 
 cated, " act according to circumstance." 
 
 Continuing their honest labours for several months in the



 
 ( 144 ) 
 
 village, the Prince saw a joghee who never associated with 
 any of the villagers on account, as it was reported, of their 
 perverse conduct and for not listening to his good counsels, 
 whenever he proffered them, on suitable seasons. The joghee had 
 lived retired, and at a distance from the motley dwellings 
 of the villagers. He was found one day lying dead in his 
 cabin. As there was little congeniality, and no sympathy be- 
 tween the villagers and the joghee, they commanded a low-cast 
 man, a sweeper, to tie his legs up with a string, and in that 
 manner to drag him out of his shed, and fling him into the 
 river. As fae joghee was floating down the stream, the Prince 
 and Princess were, at near sun set, returning from their daily 
 toil by the border of the bank. Seeing that the joghce's head 
 had sunk deep in the water, he observed that there must be 
 some reason why the head had gone down so low. It was an 
 unusual circumstance, and on that account he was anxious to 
 ascertain the cause, but in which way to execute his design he 
 was at loss to think. The Princess recommended his fetching 
 a tender shoot of the bamboo, and tying a hook to its extremity 
 to draw the corpse ashore. This being done, the Prince 
 unfastened the knots of his shaggy hair, and, to his surprise, 
 discovered a ball of pure gold weighing about a pound, and 
 round that ball the joghee had twined his long knotted hair 
 for concealing his treasure. They consulted together regarding 
 the disposal of the body, saying, that it was not proper to see 
 the joghee floating on the river when it was the custom to bury 
 such men ; they therefore took him up, made an excavation, 
 and interred him at a short distance from the water. Going 
 to their humble dwelling and conversing together, the Prince 
 mentioned to his companion in trouble, that now, by the will 
 of Providence, as they were furnished with a small property, 
 they should provide themselves with better dresses, and then 
 apply to the Rajah of the country for employment. The 
 Prince met the Rajah, who, seeing him, told him that he 
 seemed to be no person of a servile extraction, or poor; what



 
 ( 145 ) 
 
 was he seeking therefore ? The Prince replied that had he 
 been affluent, he would not have sought employment. The 
 Rajah was pleased with his appearance and manners, and liked 
 him much. He was kept about the palace without holding any 
 particular appointment for some time, till the Dewan's death 
 made a vacancy, to which the Rajah appointed him : and he 
 filled it with honor, conducting himself with so much prudence, 
 talent, and fidelity in his new office, that it won for him the 
 good opinion of the Rajah and the regard of all with whom he 
 had business intercourse. The Rajah permitted him to lodge 
 in the lower apartments of the Palace, while he occupied the 
 upper floor. As the Prince was in the lower floor, he saw the 
 Rajah descending very early every morning to the ghat of the 
 river for ablution and prayer, and the Queen a short time after 
 following him, but whither, he at first did not know. By some 
 accident, as the Prince was proceeding from the house, he saw 
 the Queen in an improper state in the room of the gate keeper, 
 when recalling the words of the fakir " to clothe the naked," 
 he flung his own garment over her with inverted face, and 
 walking away, continued his morning exercise. 
 
 The perfidious Queen, finding what was done, and by whom, 
 and the likelihood of a disclosure, rose up hastily. To screen 
 herself from crime, she cried out that the Rajah's Dewan had 
 attempted to stain her character, and in trying to capture 
 him, he had fled, leaving his garment behind in her grasp. 
 The Queen made a'complaint against the Dewan to the Rajah 
 on his return from the ghat. Seeing and recognizing his dress, 
 the Rajah had no doubt in his own mind as to the truth of the 
 accusation. 
 
 The Rajah, though grieved with the ingratitude of his Dewan, 
 was not willing to destroy him with his own hand ; he there- 
 fore resolved upon sending him with a letter to his brother, 
 detailing the particulars of his crime, and asking him to be- 
 head the Dewan on receiving the letter. The Prince, being 
 about to carry the letter to the brother of the Rajah, the 
 19



 
 Princess asked him where he was going so early, and in such 
 hurry. He commnnicated to her his business. She desired 
 him to stop and breakfast, as the food was ready. Remember- 
 ing the words of the fakir, " never forsake ready food," he 
 postponed his journey, requesting the Princess to serve out the 
 edibles quickly. At this time the profligate ward of the Palace 
 door, who had called on the Dewan on some business, asked, 
 " What is it, Sir ? " The Prince told him he was entrusted with 
 a letter from the Eajah to his brother, but as his food was ready 
 he was thinking of partaking of it before setting out on his 
 errand. The durwan requested that he might take it, as he was 
 going in that direction, and that at his leisure,the Dewan might 
 
 follow him. The Dewan assented to his offer, but desired him 
 
 
 
 to inform the nobleman that he was on his way, and wouuld 
 soon be with him, and would wait on him for an answer to the 
 letter. The durwan on presenting the communication to the 
 nobleman, was ordered to be beheaded. The Dewan, arriving 
 soon after this catastrophe, was kindly and civilly treated by 
 the nobleman, knowing him to be the Prime Minister of his 
 brother the Eajah. He communicated to the Dewan what was 
 done to the durwan by his brother's order, and said that he 
 was anxious to know all the particulars of the case. This 
 event brought the fakir's saying to mind, " be the road strait 
 or crooked, even or rugged, never proceed without premedita- 
 tion." The nobleman, asking the Dewan very pressingly on 
 the subject which appeared to him very enigmatical, he could 
 not help narrating the whole subject from the beginning. 
 The nobleman addressed a letter to his brother, in which he 
 exonerated the Dewan for the crime he was charged with, dis- 
 closed the guilt of the Queen, and told him that the punish- 
 ment of the durwan was the retributive justice of Providance. 
 The Prince set out on his journey, meditating on the salutary 
 lessons of the fakir, and the vicissitudes of the world. Arriving 
 at the Palace, the Eajah was startled to see the Dewan back 
 again, but on perusing the letter which the Dewan handed



 
 ( 147 ) 
 
 him, he became acquainted with the real posture of affairs. 
 He banished his unfaithful perfidious wife from his domain 
 into another country, got disgusted with his kingdom and its 
 government, and on that account resigned it in favour of the 
 Prince, his Prime Minister, telling him that he required no- 
 thing from him but a morsel of bread, and that being all that 
 he actually needed, he would spend the rest of his days, free 
 from cares and anxiety, in prayer and praise, and in peace and 
 tranquillity. 
 
 A WASHERMAN AND HIS ASS. 
 
 WASHERMAN, who was in the habit of taking bun- 
 dies of dirty clothes on the back of an ass to a tank 
 daily to scour them, passing near a school kept by a Moulvie, 
 heard the man of letters scolding some of his pupils, and in his 
 irritation telling them that they were nothing but asses, although 
 he had taken so much pains to make them men. The washer- 
 man was glad on hearing that an ass could be made into a man. 
 He thought of the foal at home, and of getting his nature changed. 
 He reflected that, as a human being, he could be of greater value, 
 and render better service. "With this idea, he went over one 
 day to the school-master, and falling on his knees, begged that 
 he would take charge of his foal, and be so good as to make 
 him a human being. The Moulvie having sounded the depth 
 of the man, and fiuding how shallow he was, agreed to execute 
 the work on his receiving a hundred rupees for his trouble . 
 The washerman ran to his house, unfastened the foal from the 
 peg to which it was tethered, and brought it to the Moulvie, 
 who received the fee, desired the animal to be fastened to a 
 post, and instructed the washerman to come punctually to him 
 on a certain day and hour, when it would be fully metanior-



 
 phosed for delivery. The anxiety of the washerman led him 
 before the time fixed upon, to call twice or thrice, and inquire 
 how the foal was progressing. The Moulvie replied, that he 
 was picking up the language fast enough, was learning good 
 manners, and was giving early proofs of his becoming very 
 soon a human being. Instead, however, of the washerman 
 making his appearance on the precise day as he was strictly 
 requested to do, he went a day later to receive his foal, now 
 no longer with elongated ears, but made a man by the 
 teaching of the school-master. The washerman asked to see 
 him, but the Moulvie replied, " Alas ! why did you 
 not come yesterday ? When I had made a man of him, he 
 was no longer under my control. He is gone away from us ; 
 and has been appointed Cazi of Jounpore." The washerman 
 could say nothing more after hearing so good news. He 
 went home musing on the road, and thinking that it would be 
 a source of much gain to them now that the ass was the Cazi of 
 Jounpore. He communicated these glad tidings to his wife, 
 who, together with himself, agreed to go in search of their stray 
 property. By inquiring the road, they reached Jounpore. 
 There was no difficulty in finding the Cazi. Being directed to 
 the place, the washerman saw him seated on a high platform, 
 surrounded by a multitude of suitors and plaintiffs, and as he 
 could not approach, he stood at a respectable distance from 
 whence he could see the Gazi, and the Cazi see him. He held 
 the bridle in one hand, and showing with the other a bundle of 
 hay, called out, khoor, khoor, khoor, to attract the Cazi sahib to 
 him. After the Court broke up, the Cazi felt some curiosity to 
 ascertain who this whimsical fellow was, who put on such a 
 ridiculous air before the Court. The Cazi, therefore, asked who 
 he was, and what it was he wanted. The washerman exclaimd, 
 " Wah, wah, sir, you don't know me nor seem to be familiar with 
 this cord and bridle, or this pad which went on your back so 
 often. Were you not the foal of my ass whom I got made a 
 man by giving a hundred rupees to a Moulvie, who makes men



 
 ( 149 ) 
 
 of asses and educates them in language and manners ? You 
 are oblivious of your primitive condition, and wish now to prove 
 ungrateful to your benefactor." The Cazi perceived that he 
 was fooled by his simplicity, and imposed upon by an artful 
 person. Unriddling the whole affair to the washerman, he in 
 pity presented him with a note of two hundred rupees, and sent 
 him away to his home, a wiser man for his troubles, and the 
 experience he had acquired thereby. 
 
 THE STORY OP A FAKIR. 
 
 was a fakir whose name was Jellalee Shah, and 
 who never went abroad to ask alms, as his brethren of 
 the same profession were in the habit of doing generally. His 
 wife told him one day, if he did not support her, to permit 
 her to go away, and seek her fortune elsewhere. He replied, 
 that the wealth which he once possessed, would have sufficed to 
 maintain ten persons like herself in comfort, had she not squan- 
 dered it lavishly by her indiscretion and extravagance. " What 
 use," the fakir added, " will it be to go and beg ; the few pice 
 that I might ohtain by begging, would not suffice to meet your 
 immoderate expenses." The wife begged of him to overlook 
 her past faults and remissness, and to go and solicit assistance 
 from the kind generous inhabitants, saying, that should he find 
 her again prodigal in the management of the house, he was to 
 discontinue asking charity. 
 
 The fakir, accordingly, got out one morning with his bamboo 
 cane and wallet, and a canonical cap of Moslem invention, but 
 in doing so he was accosted by the men on the road, who saw 
 him begging " Khan Saheb, what can you reap in this little 
 unpopulous, unfertile place ? the most you may gather will be a 
 very few annas, and that for a short time only, for in that



 
 ( 150 ) 
 
 period, you will have shaken all the fruitful trees bare, and 
 shake you ever so hard or often after that as you please, they 
 will yield no recompense for your labour. Gro to a place which 
 is but a short distance from this, there a Rajah resides, whose 
 mother has recently departed from life, and whose funeral 
 obsequies will be performed very soon, and at that time princely 
 gifts will be distributed to the poor." 
 
 Quite glad as the fakir was, he lost no time in being present 
 at the ceremony, regarding which the people had informed him. 
 While the Rajah was engaged in dealing out presents to nu- 
 merous applicants, he seeing the fakir, called him, and placing two 
 rupees in his hands, desired him to come every day, and that he 
 would be allowed that amount regularly. The fakir, with 
 humility and supplicating looks, said that he could not come 
 every day, because he was living at a good distance, but if per- 
 mitted, he would call and receive his gift on every third or 
 fourth day. The Rajah consented. The fakir went home with 
 much joy and satisfaction, and he took out and gave the two 
 rupees to his wife. She managed her expenses with that sum 
 so carefully, that it went a long way, and lasted about a 
 month. The fakir went to the Rajah regularly, and received 
 punctually his two rupees. In this manner, after the expiration 
 of several months, he had saved a tolerable amount. One day, 
 when the fakir, as usual, presented himself before the Rajah, the 
 calculation as to what he was to receive being duly performed, 
 and the money about to be handed over to him, the Rajah's 
 Guru, who was present, inquired on what account the man was 
 receiving the money which was counted out to him ? The 
 Rajah told his Gruru that the fakir was a fine fellow, and he had 
 taken a liking to him, and was allowing him two rupees per day 
 for his support. As the fakir, after receiving his share of 
 allowance, was departing, the Gruru also left the durbar, or 
 Court, and overtook the fakir on the road with rapid strides, 
 speaking to him thus " You are a stupid, uncivilized, dirty 
 fellow ; when I was at the durbar to-day, I saw you, whilst



 
 speaking to the Eajah, doing it so carelessly with your face 
 near him, as to spirt your spittle on his person. When you 
 call again, take good care to speak to his honor with your face 
 averted." 
 
 Having communicated this malicious advice to the fakir, he 
 ran back to the Rajah, and told him : " Maharaj, you are too 
 credulous, and are therefore easily duped hy every vagabond 
 who comes to you with a plausible story of want and distress . 
 The fakir that was here just now, is a great drunkard. I saw 
 him go into one of the drinking houses and spend his money." 
 The Eajah was sorry to hear this of the fakir, and regretted 
 much that he had helped him to carry on a course of intemper- 
 ance, yet he could hardly believe it. The fakir came again to 
 the Eajah, but as he was warned by the Guru, he stood at a dis- 
 tance, and spoke to the Eajah with his face in an opposite 
 direction. It now occurred to the Eajah, that what his Guru 
 had intimated, was true, and there was satisfactory proof of it 
 in the conduct of the fakir. To get him punished for his trick, 
 he wrote a letter to his brother, in which he desired him to tie 
 the fakir to a pole, serve him out some impressive lashes, and 
 then send him away. With this intention, the Eajah handed 
 a letter, which he desired him to convey to his brother. 
 The Guru, thinking that his stratagem had failed totally in its 
 design, and that the fakir's bearing the letter to the Eajah's 
 brother, might be intended to promote his welfare, went up 
 hastily and joined the fakir on the road, to whom he spoke 
 thus : " The Eajah has written to his brother to pay you the 
 sum due to you for the last three days. Why need you go so 
 far. Here take the six rupees and depart. I am going that 
 way, and will deliver the letter myself." The Guru, on taking 
 the letter to the Eajah's brother, was treated kindly, received 
 water to wash his hands and feet, got a bath, and then some 
 refreshments. But soon after these tokens of civility, the brother, 
 opening and perusing the letter, was surprised to learn from the 
 contents the actual state of things. He was compelled to order



 
 ( 152 ) 
 
 the execution of the treatment which the Rajah had prescribed, but 
 reconsidering the subject, he thought that it could not be a small 
 crime for which punishment to a Guru was intended ; he ordered 
 therefore, that the ordeal through which he ought to pass, should 
 be to mark one of his cheeks with chunam, the other with pot 
 black, and have his neck ornamented with a necklace of old 
 shoes, and thus adorned, to parade him about the most thronged 
 parts of the city and markets with beat of drum. When the 
 Guru was thus being made a humiliating spectacle in the town, 
 the Ranee, seeing him from her lattice, exclaimed with as- 
 tonishment to her attendants, that the man who was being 
 punished, did not look like the fakir as it was reported, but 
 rather like their own Guru. She ran and acquainted the Rajah 
 with the circumstance, chiding him for his severity in thus in- 
 sulting the Guru, telling him at the same time, that such a 
 crime might bring down disaster on his raj, or kingdom, and 
 some bad luck on himself. The Rajah observed, that he had 
 sanctioned the punishment of a fakir who had deceived him by 
 false pretences, and who had taken away a good deal of money 
 to be wasted in debasing drinks, regarding which he had been 
 informed by the Guru. 
 
 The Rajah was sorry for what had happened by a sad mis- 
 take. He hastened to ascertain if the statement he heard was 
 true, and finding that the man punished was no other than 
 the identical Guru, he apologised for the accident, and had 
 him washed and dressed, while he issued strict orders for the 
 apprehension of the fakir, and his immediate presence at Court. 
 The Rajah's injunction was promptly executed, and the fakir 
 was apprehended. The Rajah questioned him as to the manner 
 in which the letter had passed from his hands into that of his 
 Guru. " Sire," he said, " I am a simple man whose profes- 
 sion is begging. I am not an adept in deep artifice, or in 
 complex scheming. I visited you not to obtain your charity 
 by force or deceit. You freely settled that sum on me out of 
 your own benevolent disposition. One day, as I was going



 
 ( 153 ) 
 
 away after receiving your bounty, your Guru came and met me 
 ou the road. He asked me, ' In what manner, you worthless 
 fellow, do you speak to the Raj ah , that in doing so, your 
 spittle falls on his person ? Take care when you next present 
 yourself before him, that you do not dare to look at him when 
 you speak.' When I heard this, I thought it might be true, 
 for I could never believe that your Guru could ever be guilty 
 of so mean an act as a lie. When, therefore, I last called for my 
 stipend, I took good care to turn my face round when speak- 
 ing, in case my spittle might fall on you. When I did so, 
 and you gave me the letter addressed to your brother, the 
 Guru, who overtook me on the way, told me that it was no- 
 business of mine to meddle with writing, being illiterate, and 
 therefore unable to decipher characters, and ignorant of their 
 import ; saying which, he snatched the letter, and carried it him- 
 self, promising that I should continue to enjoy the allowance 
 of two rupees which I had . hitherto received." The Eajah 
 here turning round to the Guru, interrogated him as to 
 the truth or falsehood of the fakir's representations. The Guru 
 could not deny them. The Rajah then acquainted the Ranee 
 with the transaction, and the culpable conduct of their spiri- 
 tual guide. They agreed, on consulting together, that he should 
 be dismissed from the .service of the palace, but the fakir was 
 invited to leave the unwholesome village in which he was 
 residing, and to take up his quarters in the garden of the 
 Rajah. This pleasing invitation he joyfully accepted, living 
 with his wife, free from care and anxiety, and taught in the 
 school of want, to be careful of God's gifts.



 
 ( 154 ) 
 
 THE TWO BEGGARS. 
 
 HERE were two beggars who, having a regard for each 
 other, strolled about the streets asking alms. They 
 often passed close to the palace of a Badsha. In passing 
 it, one of them was heard to repeat " May the Lord give ;" 
 the other " May the Badsha give." The Badsha, hearing 
 this petition for several days, felt some pity for the man who 
 called on his name, and put his trust in him for support. The 
 beggar being called in, the Vizier was instructed to furnish 
 him every morning with a loaf, in which he was told to conceal 
 a gold-mohur. The Badsha, when giving him the loaf, desired 
 that he would not go and beg again. The beggar accepted the 
 loaf with grateful sentiments, and retiring from his presence, 
 went and seated himself beneath the shade of a banian 
 tree which was a place of assignation, where, after their labours, 
 the two beggars rested and conversed on the subject of their 
 respective gains and acquisitions. The two beggars on meeting 
 together again beneath the tree, inquired of each other what 
 was the result of their morning labour. The one, who would 
 always repeat, " May God send," related that he had received 
 pice, couries, fruit, grain, and dholl ; the other, with a mourn- 
 ful countenance, told his own tale. " Friend," said he, " the 
 Badsha has ordered me the gift of a loaf every day, with an 
 injunction that I should not beg any more after receiving it. 
 I am puzzled to think how I can satisfy the hunger of my 
 wife, my seven children, and myself, with this single loaf. 
 When I used to beg and obtain rice, I made a simple gruel 
 which answered our purpose better." "Well, friend, I will buy 
 it of you for four pice," said the other. The man accepted of 
 his offer, and with it he procured some broken rice, with which



 
 ( 155 ) 
 
 he prepared some gruel, and fed his family. In this manner, 
 for a period of six months, as he got the loaf, he sold it to the 
 other beggar. Within this time the other beggar, who exclaimed, 
 " May God give," was seen to thrive in body and prosper in 
 his affairs, while the beggar, who had put his confidence in the 
 Badsha, was reduced to a skeleton, and had on dirty tattered 
 clothes. The Badsha, seeing through his window the two beg- 
 gars passing one morning, observed the difference of their 
 respective appearance the one hale and hearty, the other a 
 walking shadow. He desired his Vizier to call the beggar up 
 to him. When he appeared before the Badsha t the Badsha 
 asked him with surprise how it was that he wore dirty tattered 
 clothes, and looked famished, and if he did not regularly re- 
 ceive his allowance of a loaf. The beggar related about the 
 insufficiency of the single loaf to appease the hunger of nine 
 persons, and that on that account, he had sold his loaf to his 
 friend for four pice daily. The Badsha told him that he was 
 an unfortunate man to lose the loaf, for with the loaf he had 
 given him sixteen rupees every day, and had therefore expected 
 to see him in a better condition of body, purse, and clothing. 
 The Badsha told his Yizier to send for a cart, and loading the 
 cart with as much money as it could hold, to see it safely 
 deposited in the house of the poor man, lest so much wealth 
 might tempt the cupidity of some wicked men to rob the man 
 on the lonely road to his abode. The Yizier escorted the 
 treasure safely to the door of the beggar, who, leaping down with 
 elated hope, ran into the house with an erect gait, instead of 
 entering with a stoop as before, to avoid contact with the low 
 frame of the door ; the consequence was, that the beggar's head 
 struck violently against it, and he fell down dead on the spot. 
 The Yizier, after leaving his men to watch the cart, went and 
 informed the Badsha of the sad catastrophe. The Badsha was 
 surprised and sorrowful on receiving the tidings. He went to 
 see and to ascertain how the misfortune had happened. Going 
 to the beggar's house, he saw him prostrate on the ground, his



 
 ( ISO ) 
 
 forehead skinned nearly to the crown of his head. Stooping to 
 examine if the cranium had sustained a fracture, he discovered 
 some faint characters on the forehead, which on being deci- 
 phered, the following words were found inscribed : " As none can 
 change man's destiny, so no one can give life to the dead." The 
 Badsha became thoughtful and reflective after this accident, and 
 as he could not help the man, do what he might, he told his 
 Vizier to help his family with a regular supply of all their 
 wants, and to attend to their comfort. 
 
 STORY OF ANOTHER FAKIR. 
 
 was a fakir whose practice was never to reside 
 more than one night at any village, but like a bird of 
 passage to change place every day of his abode. It happened 
 that, on arriving at a certain village, he was saluted by the vil- 
 lagers, thus, " Father, you are wandering throughout this wide 
 domain for your daily bread, but without our going a mile 
 from our own country or home, Grod provides for our wants, 
 and we receive, seated at home, whatever we ask for." The 
 fakir replied " I am surprised to hear that you get whatever 
 you ask from God. If he gives you all you ask, he will not 
 refuse giving me also." He went on. in his journey, but 
 when he came to a desolate place near the bank of a river, 
 he gave utterance to this prayer: " As thou, Grod, givest others, 
 so give me, a child first, then wealth, and last of all a wife." 
 When this strange prayer was offered, a heavy fall of rain 
 descended, that flooded the whole country, and it reached up 
 to the neck of the fakir. He began to reflect, that it might be 
 indicative of the displeasure of Grod for the petition he had 
 offered, still he resolved in his own mind, that as he had al- 
 ready asked for the gifts, until his request was granted, he



 
 ( 15T ) 
 
 would not stir from the place, though he got drowned by the 
 flood. Standing in that position, he began. to feel thirsty, but 
 for some time he found no means of allaying his thirst, the 
 surrounding water being muddy and impure ; but a cocoanut 
 was seen very opportunely to float by where he stood ; he took 
 it up and drank half of its milky fluid. That the remaining 
 juice which it contained might not run out, or the external water 
 of the disturbed stream might not get mixed with it, he closed 
 the aperture of the nut with a stick, after which he sent it 
 down the river. The cocoanut went dancing and whirling 
 on the water, and as it was passing, a Princess, who 
 had gone to the river for ablution, seeing it, desired 
 her maid to get within its reach by throwing her flowing gar- 
 ment over, and drawing the nut close to the bank. Obtaining 
 what she desired, she drank the water it contained, and took 
 the cocoanut home to enjoy the inner substance. She began 
 very soon after to show symptoms of pregnancy, and as the 
 time for her accouchement approached, her situation could not 
 long remain concealed. Her condition began to be known to 
 the inmates of the palace, and by them the circumstance was 
 brought to the knowledge of her parents. The Rajah could 
 not suffer his child, who had brought, as he was led to think, 
 so much dishonor and disgrace on herself and her parents, to 
 remain any longer in the palace ; he therefore commanded that 
 a palkee, with a female attendant, should be speedily provided, 
 and the Princess taken and left by the bearers in the heart of 
 some gloomy forest. The Princess being awoke in the morn- 
 ing from her disturbed dreamy slumber, by the early songs of 
 forest birds, and the light of dawning day, called her maid and 
 inquired why the bearers had set down the conveyance, and 
 where they had gone ? When the Princess and her maid found 
 that they were abandoned by the attendants, their grief knew 
 no bounds. But the emotion of sorrow soon gave place to 
 another feeling apprehension of danger, this roused them to 
 action. The Palkee was placed under the trunk of a wide spread



 
 ( 158 ) 
 
 banian. They enclosed from the two poles of the conveyance 
 to the tree, the space with stout branches of thorny plants, 
 for protection from wild animals ; the palkee itself being like a 
 trap, was a sufficient scarecrow for them. The conveyance 
 had been provided with a store of provisions sufficient to last 
 them for several days, so they were under no fear of immediate 
 starvation, nor any necessity just then to ramble in quest of 
 such fruits and succulent herbs as might afford sustenance. 
 The Princess after a few days was confined of a beautiful boy. 
 This occurrence, which in any other circumstances would have 
 been a copious source of pure delight to the maternal bosom, 
 was joy not unmixed with regret to her guileless heart. She 
 reflected that, if not destroyed by the denizens of the forest, 
 they might waste and pine away for want of food ; and the same 
 appalling disaster might fall on her lovely child. With these 
 thoughts in her mind, she told her maid that, as soon as the 
 fountain of nourishment with which nature had provided her 
 for the support of the child failed, it was her intention to 
 launch him on the bosom of the river, that some humane person 
 might see and adopt him, and by this means free her innocent 
 progeny from a cruel banishment in a repulsive wilderness. 
 Agreeably to this design, when the child grew up, and was not 
 wholly dependent on the mother for his supply of food, but 
 could subsist by means of artificial diet, she prepared an oblong 
 basket of wicker work, lined it with bark and the leaves of 
 the lotus, covered the top with light rush, and placed the little 
 vessel on the stream with its precious cargo, and then offered 
 many tearful prayers for its safety. The little artificial boat 
 glided down to the spot near which the fakir's hut stood on the 
 bank, when it swung round by the eddy, and stuck at the shore 
 where the man stood in silent contemplation of nature, or per- 
 haps nature's God. He looked at the object with mute wonder, 
 and thinking with much satisfaction and delight that his first 
 prayer had been granted, lifted the tiny ark with the child, 
 and bore it to his humble residence. High was his gratifica-



 
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 tiou too, and great his joy, when he beheld the little innocent 
 being whose face was radiant with a smile, throwing out his 
 playful hands, as if they sought the shelter and protection of 
 the fakir's stronger arms. The fakir now released the innocent 
 prisoner from his unconscious bondage, and dandled him with 
 parental fondness. He discovered a small bag in the basket 
 which had been placed near the child ; opening which to satisfy 
 his curiosity, he discovered that it contained jewellery and 
 gems of considerable value. In this occurrence, he found that 
 his second prayer too was in a very signal way answered. 
 
 Days and months passed by in their rapid course, when one 
 day, the Rajah, weary of his protracted labours in the constant 
 administration of justice, thought of unbending himself by 
 some recreative indulgences ; to carry out this pleasant 
 project, he commanded his painted boats to be fitted up, with 
 a sufficient complement of men, to be provided with necessaries 
 for the cruise, and to be got ready by the first of the month. 
 With his numerous retinue, the Rajah dropped down the stream, 
 and descending occasionally into the woods where deer, rabbits, 
 and hares were shot, and game of several kinds bagged by the 
 sportsmen. The Rajah, who was seated smoking his pipe, 
 saw a very fine boy playing at the door of a mean hut further 
 down the stream. Ordering his barge to be fastened to the 
 shore, he descended, and with sentiments of pity and surprise, 
 beheld the boy, for he could see no one in the hut, whilst the 
 boy was amusing himself with the pretty flowers of spontane- 
 ous growth. Where the lad had come from, was a puzzle which 
 he could not easily solve. Playing with the boy for some time, 
 he felt an inexplicable fondness for him. When the fakir 
 came back from his short excursion, the King asked him how 
 he came to possess the boy in such an uncongenial place. The 
 fakir replied that he had offered three petitions to God, of which 
 two, which regarded a son and wealth, had been very remark- 
 ably fulfilled, and he was now waiting for the accomplishment 
 of his last wish the gift of a wife.



 
 ( "60 ) 
 
 The fakir related to the Rajah the manner in which his pray- 
 er had been heard and answered. The Eajah, who had become 
 so much attached to the child, that the thought of parting with 
 him became truly painful, invited the fakir to leave his desolate 
 retirement, and to return with him to the city in which, as he 
 had several houses, he might take up his quarters with the 
 child in any one of them he fancied. The fakir, considering 
 that it would be highly injudicious to reject so advantageous 
 an offer, and thinking too that it would secure not only the 
 safety of the child, but might advance his welfare and pro- 
 mote his future prospects, willingly and thankfully acepted 
 the proposal. "When the exiles were in the Rajah's country, 
 there was not a day that passed by without his sending his men 
 for the boy, who beguiled the hours of the Rajah's sorrow, 
 anxiety, and care, by his winning manners, and his bewitch- 
 ing playfulness. After the expiration of some months, the 
 Rajah again proceeded by land on a shooting expedition. 
 When he had gone about a day or two day's journey, he enter- 
 ed the very forest where his daughter was left by the bearers. 
 In one direction in the chase, and another, beating the bush in all 
 quarters, he came up to the spot in which the palkee was placed. 
 With much surprise he questioned the sportsmen how such a 
 thing could come there, and what such a conveyance had to do 
 in the dense jungle, for no one in his senses would travel 
 there, and to ascertain if there might be any whimsical 
 traveller in it. In lifting the shutters of the conveyance, they 
 discovered a female fast asleep, of attenuated form, pallid 
 complexion, but possessing handsome features. The Rajah 
 could see her also, as the doors were set ajar. He could not 
 forget easily the features of his own daughter, and without 
 hesitation, pronounced this miserable being to be his own child. 
 He regretted deeply that in his haste he had banished his child 
 without satisfying himself of the truth of the report of his 
 daughter's guilt. He embraced her fondly, wept over her bitter- 
 ly, and bore her away from the spot giving up the chase which



 
 had now no attraction for him. Remaining a few days 
 in the palace, in which, in the enjoyment of comforts and 
 nutricious viands, she recovered her health and strength, and 
 with it all the other blessings of life ; still her heart was sad 
 and heavy, and sick with love for her child, whose destiny was 
 unknown to her. 
 
 As the fakir's child was daily brought to the palace to be 
 caressed and toyed with by the Rajah and the inmates of the 
 palace, his daughter saw him on one occasion, so pleasing in his 
 innocent gambols, so beautiful in face and form, and with such 
 attractive lustrous eyes, that she ran up, lifted him, and folded 
 to her bosom with affectionate warmth. This she did every 
 day with increasing intensity of love, but though all were 
 amused and happy in their intercourse with the child, the 
 Rajah's own daughter's spirits became ever after depressed. 
 One day, when the Ranee was in her own private apartments 
 with none of her attendants present save her daughter, 
 she communicated her suspicions to her, telling her that the 
 child must be her own son. The Ranee prevailed on her 
 daughter to disclose her secret, promising not to abuse her confi- 
 dence, but to aid her if there should arise any injury to her 
 character by its publicity. The daughter, with genuine innocence 
 recounted, what had happened ; relating how she went out to 
 bathe with one of her maids in the river, and whilst doing so, 
 saw a cocoanut floating, with a stick used as a cork in the 
 aperture ; that, being thirsty, she drank the sweet water it 
 contained, and intending to eat the inner kernel, brought the 
 nut home and placed it in a corner of the wall, where, if not 
 removed, she said it ought still to be. If there was any fault 
 which she had ever committed, it was that, and no other, for 
 she could not accuse herself of any impropriety. This was all 
 that she did, and the symptoms which had appeared subse- 
 quently were the result of her partaking of the water of that 
 cocoanut. This strange confession being made to the Rajah, he 
 went and met the fakir ; and to sift the matter to the bottom, 
 21



 
 ( 162 ) 
 
 he made minute inquiries. "Sire, your many perplexing 
 questions," observed the fakir, " evince a tendency to entangle 
 and involve me in some guilt, and perhaps to deprive me of my 
 child. It was for this reason that I did not wish to resign my 
 liberty and happiness where I could enjoy both undisturbed in 
 my solitary cell. I have told your highness that I had asked 
 three gifts from God ; first, that I might have a child, then 
 that I might obtain wealth, and lastly, that he would grant me 
 a wife. When the inundation was high, and I was up to the 
 neck in water, a cocoanut passed where I stood. Feeling 
 thirsty, I took the cocoanut, and with a stick made a passage 
 for the water. When I had drank the half, I closed the 
 aperture with a stick, and as I dropped it into the river, my 
 prayer was that whoever drank that water might give birth to 
 a child. I have told you already how God was pleased to 
 send me a child, and with him wealth, and that my last prayer 
 has not yet been answered." 
 
 All these circumstances being well weighed in the Rajah's 
 mind, he narrated the whole subject to his wife, the Eanee, 
 when they came to the conclusion that their daughter was fated 
 to be the wife of the fakir, and that on that account they ought 
 to do nothing to impede their nuptials, or oppose the workings 
 of providence. The Rajah then took the cocoanut to the fakir, 
 and before showing it to him, asked if he could identify the 
 nut out of which he had drank ? He affirmed that he could. 
 Hereupon the cocoanut was produced, and by its marks and 
 the identical stick, the branch of a certain tree, he pronounced 
 it to be the very one used by him. The Rajah now disclosed 
 the other incidents mentioned before, and concluded by saying 
 that the child was his, and she who had drank the water of the 
 cocoanut, was his own daughter, and he would therefore give 
 her to be the wife of the fakir. That what God had done so 
 wonderfully in his mysterious providence, should be confirmed 
 by a public marriage. This was done shortly after with the 
 pomp and festivity which generally attend such occasions.



 
 f 163 ) 
 
 The fakir, though raised to affluence and a position of honor 
 in the Court, never forgot that it was possible to get all things 
 by prayer. 
 
 THE TWO SISTERS-DOOKHEE AND 
 SOOKHEE. 
 
 independent chief who held sway over a large territory 
 covered with wide-spread undulating hills, was celebra- 
 ted for his peaceful tendencies, his love and care of his subjects, 
 fondness for field sports, and his active benevolence. He had 
 two daughters, whose respective names were Dookhee and Soo- 
 k/tee, or Distress and Comfort. On account of the isolated situa- 
 tion of his country, and his own natural love of peace, he was 
 induced to marry his daughters to worthy and high born men of 
 his Court. After a few years, the chief died, as also the hus- 
 band of Dookhee, who departed leaving a young daughter behind 
 him. Dookhee was living with her daughter in great want ; 
 so reduced was she in her circumstances, that she had a small 
 bungalow built on a mound formed by the ruins of some houses. 
 Here she passed her days, being occasionally helped by the 
 Miindul, or head man of the village, and the Gomasta, or 
 writer's family, with a small quantity of rice, vegetables, and 
 greens. These faithful men were once in the service of her 
 father, and they therefore, in gratitude to his memory, paid 
 some attention to the wants of his bereaved daughter. Dookhee 
 one day communicated to the Gomasta and the Mundul her 
 desire to visit her sister Sookhee, who was in a prosperous con- 
 dition, and might render her some help. They advised her to 
 go, saying, that the interview might tend to her benefit. With 
 this advice, they gave her, the one a two anna piece, and the 
 other a four anna coin, to help her to prosecute her intended



 
 ( 164 ) 
 
 journey. On arriving at the house of her sister, she was an- 
 nounced, but Sookhee repudiated all connection with her, ex- 
 claiming, " Who is niy sister, that chandal dhaagur, that witch 
 my sister ? Send that low person away." After a short time, 
 however, she commanded her servants to call her back. On 
 her going in, Dookhee saw her sister seated on a costly chair, 
 her feet resting on a stool, and her unfastened hair flowing 
 down and covering the back of the chair, while two maids were 
 employed in combing, oiling, and dressing it. She was desired 
 to occupy herself with the same performance. Engaged in this 
 manner for full three hours, her child crying from hunger, 
 herself feeling weary after her journey, and yet not finding 
 her sister offer any refreshment to herself or her child, poor 
 Dookhee felt deeply grieved to think that her sister's heart had 
 grown so callous, and she had become quite a different person 
 to what she was before. After the tedious work of playing 
 with her hair idly for several hours, Sookhee ordered her maids 
 to give this woman and her child a seer of broken rice. When 
 Dookhee was departing, after the receipt of this beggarly dona- 
 tion, she was called back, and told that she had not dressed 
 her hair properly ; therefore she must do the work over again. 
 After the expiration of another hour, on dismissing Dookhee, 
 her sister told her servant to take back half the' quantity of rice 
 from the woman, on account of her slovenly work. Going 
 away from her sister's, Dookhee wept bitter tears on the road, 
 reflecting sadly and mournfully on her reception. The Nazir, 
 who was in her father's service, seeing her pass his house, call- 
 ed out to her, " Who is that, is it Dookhee? Come here my 
 child. Where have you been ?" Poor Dookhee, with a heart 
 rent with grief, obeyed the summons, and in doing so, told her 
 sister's treatment of her, and the help she had obtained 
 for herself and her daughter. The Nazir, who was a man of 
 tender sensibilities, was moved on hearing her sad story. The 
 kind man and his wife paid her all attention, tenderly allevia- 
 ting her sorrow, fed her with the choicest viands their larder



 
 ( 165 ) 
 
 contained, and gave her and her child a suit of decent clothes, 
 with some money at parting. She went back to her house, 
 and seeing her kind well-wishers, the Gomasta and Mundul, 
 ready to greet and welcome her home, she, on being ques- 
 tioned, repeated her short tale of disappointment. They were 
 stunned to hear it, and felt sincerely for her troubles. The 
 daughter, now growing up to years of maturity, would assist 
 her mother by various little helps which, according to her capacity, 
 she gave cheerfully. She went one day far into the fields and 
 forest, to gather withered branches, and pick up greens which 
 grow luxuriantly on the surface of tanks. Having collected a 
 sufficiency of sticks for fuel, and gathered several kinds of 
 greens, she made them into a large bundle ; but how was she 
 to lift it up on her head, for without that she could not carry it 
 away ! At this time, her guardian angel, disguised as a very 
 old man, was seen approaching her, supported by a walking 
 cane. He saluted her, " What do you want my child ?" She 
 told him, she was powerless to lift the heavy load. He entered 
 into conversation with her, regarding what relations she had, 
 and what were the circumstances in which they were placed, 
 asking if she were desirous of marrying, for he was able to 
 provide her with a good man for her husband. She informed 
 the old man of what he was desirous of learning, and consented 
 to his proposal, believing it would be the means of relieving 
 her mother. The man asked her to come again after two days 
 to the forest, then liftiug the bundle, and saying she would feel 
 it light as a feather, he disappeared. Her mother was all this 
 time in great anguish of mind, seeing that evening was deepen- 
 ing, and her child had not come back. She paced the com- 
 pound, going in and out of the house full of anxiety and 
 apprehension for the safety of her daughter, until she faintly 
 discerned a figure at a considerable distance, coming toward 
 the house. When the figure, advancing nearer, became more 
 distinct, and the mother recognising her daughter, ran up 
 to her and said " My poor child, why were you so late in



 
 ( 166 ) 
 
 the forest ? Had you no fear of wild animals ? What a load 
 you have on your head. Come, I will relieve you." Saying 
 which, she lifted the bundle and placed it on her own head, re- 
 marking that it was heavy for her to bear, and must consequently 
 have been much more so for her poor child. The daughter said, 
 she did not find it heavy at all. Groing home, she boiled a 
 little rice, fried the greens, and made a supper upon that, 
 which, if not dainty, appeased their hunger and invited sleep. 
 As she had promised, the daughter went again to the forest on 
 the third day, and having collected a bundle of twigs, and 
 picked up some greens from the surface of the tanks, she halted 
 to see if her old friend would again help her. Just then she 
 saw the old man approaching by the same path as before. 
 When he had come up to her, he told her to leave her bundle 
 where it was, and follow him. Going through the forest by 
 his side, she passed many wild animals, and the girl shrunk 
 with fear at their savage looks and fearful howl, but the old 
 man pacified her, saying that for her they were harmless as 
 lambs. After a two hours' journey, the old man conducted 
 her into a superb house, furnished with the costliest articles ; 
 moreover, passing through one of the rooms, she saw a man of 
 uncommon beauty, sleeping on a silver bedstead. After she 
 had noticed these things in thoughtful silence, he took her 
 back to the forest, where her bundle lay. Helping her to lift 
 it, the mysterious old man inserted in it a bag of money, saying 
 her mother must employ it in erecting a house, and on prepara- 
 tions for the wedding. Everything being ready, Dookhee in- 
 vited her friends, and at the proper time the forest friend 
 brought with him a prince of remarkable beauty, gorgeously 
 dressed, and with a splendid retinue. The wedding was kept up 
 in a style of grandeur, and with a prodigality of entertainment 
 befitting the rank and reputed wealth of the prince. Sookhee 
 began during the festival to enquire after her sister. Just then, 
 Dookhee made her appearance, and saluted her thus ; " Sister, 
 why do you enquire after me ? I am neither worthy of your



 
 ( 107 ) 
 
 regard nor your notice, for I am she whom you called by every 
 opprobrious epithet, and to relieve whose distress you gave her 
 some broken rice." Sookhee hung down her head in shame 
 and sorrow. Her unsisterly conduct was sufficiently rebuked 
 before a large company of respectable people, who witnessed 
 her humiliation and contrition. The friends who were enter- 
 tained so sumptuously, had for a week or two no other subject of 
 conversation but the splendid preparations for the wedding, the 
 rich treat, and the excellent music j while the unnatural conduct 
 of Sookhee towards Dookhee was commented upon, and 
 abundant reproaches were showered upon the delinquent, but 
 the mead of praise was lavished on Dookhee, for the amiable 
 traits of her character, her forbearance and patience, and her 
 charitable disposition. 
 
 Several years elapsed, during which the circumstances of 
 Dookhee improved, but the increase of wealth and comfort did 
 not corrupt the heart of Dookhee nor render it callous. She 
 had an ear for every tale of sorrow, .and while relieving distress 
 with alacrity, she sympathised with the suiferers, nor withal 
 was she given to slander, but spoke words of comfort and 
 kindly greeting. On the other hand, time wrought a painful 
 revolution in the condition of Sookhee and her husband. 
 They were so reduced by poverty, that their houses and estates, 
 with everything they possessed, were sold to support them. 
 They were now in rags and without shoes, and in this distress 
 her husband told Sookhee, that if she could give him a clean suit 
 of dress, he would go and seek assistance from Dookhee, for she 
 was above want ; and might pity their destitution. He went 
 with slow faltering steps to the house of Dookhee, not knowing 
 what his reception might be ; and with scarcely courage enough 
 to lift up his head and announce to the servant that he wished 
 an interview with the mistress of the house. Some of the old 
 servants, recognising him, though so sadly changed in face 
 and dress, hastened into the house, and informed Dookhee that 
 the husband of her sister was at the gate in poor clothes, bare-



 
 ( 108 ) 
 
 footed, and with a haggard look. She desired her servants to 
 bring him in immediately. Dookhee, seeing the affecting 
 change both in his looks aud condition, was moved to copious 
 tears of sorrow. She upbraided him, not for the treatment 
 she had received from her sister, (for the hand of Grod was 
 heavy upon them,) but for his delay in coming to her, and 
 informing her of their ill-fortune. She ordered some clothes 
 to be given him, gave some for her sister, and when he had 
 eaten, desired that they would not scruple to come and make 
 her house and fortune their own. They were grieved and mor- 
 tified, but as sorrow and regret for past errors often have a 
 beneficial effect in curing bad habits, they felt happier than 
 ever for being better persons. 
 
 A FOX AND AN ELEPHANT. 
 
 SHEEWD fox having motives of self interest, became very 
 intimate with an elephant. In their frequent meetings, 
 the fox diligently informed the elephant of the fields where 
 he might obtain the best fodder, and revel among the most 
 luxuriant crops. The fox having matured his plans, had an 
 audience one day with the prince of the foxes, urging that his 
 lank body and decayed strength, required the flesh of a living 
 elephant for their restoration. The prince was annoyed to hear 
 of this impracticable request, but as he could not, without 
 sacrificing his dignity as chief, remain indifferent to the com- 
 plaint preferred, he convened a meeting of foxes, at which he 
 demanded if there was any among them bold and valorous 
 enough to sally forth and procure the flesh of a living elephant. 
 The artful fox, hearing this order, came forward, and with an 
 erect gait and a proud bearing, signified by a prolonged howl,



 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 his willingness to execute the undertaking. Before proceeding 
 however, to accomplish his task, he told the prince of the foxes, 
 that he should keep his subjects under strict control during the 
 time he was occupied in hunting, nor even after he had secured 
 his game, should any fox, unless he heard the previously 
 concerted sign, make the least noise. 
 
 Leaving these instructions behind him, the fox, with sly looks, 
 and cunning steps, marched out in the direction where he was 
 sure to meet with his friend, the elephant. Saluting the ele- 
 phant with winning smiles and flattering speeches, he told him 
 he had seen that morning a fine field thickly planted with large 
 sugar-canes, and that if- he desired it, he would conduct him 
 to the spot. The elephant was very much pleased with 
 this news. He placed himself willingly under the guidance 
 of his friend. The fox marched onwards till he came 
 within sight of a jheel, or swamp, beyond which the 
 sugar-canes grew temptingly. To show the sincerity of 
 his friendship, the fox desired the elephant to wait on the firm 
 ground where he stood, and that he would advance and try the 
 softness of the ground where a path led through the jheel to 
 the cane field. The fox traversed the swamp, and coming 
 back, told his friend that it was practicable to cross. The fox 
 led the way, but the great weight of the elephant could not be 
 sustained by the flimsy layer of earth, which encrusted the 
 soft clay below, and his feet began to sink. He called out to 
 the fox, telling him the ground would not do, and that he 
 must go back, but the fox encouraged him to go on, saying 
 that the ground where he was standing was particularly marshy 
 and soft, but he would find firmer footing if he stepped a 
 little further on to the place where he stood. The elephant 
 struggled and waded through his difficult journey, but instead 
 of finding the ground improve, he was inextricably buried up 
 to his hips in the marsh. The fox ran to his assistance, and 
 began to pull him by the tail and ears alternately, but finding 
 all his powers of no avail, he asked him if he might call for his 
 22



 
 ( 170 ) 
 
 fellows to assist him. Having obtained the sanction of the 
 elephant, h,e gave many loud preconcerted hoahs, and in a 
 short time, scores of foxes arrived, and surrounded the helpless 
 animal, who was soon overpowered and eaten. The elephant 
 made these reflections before expiring : " It is always unwise 
 and unsafe to form improper acquaintances, and cultivate friend- 
 ship with people between whose nature and our own there is 
 great disparity, nor to give easy credence to the advice of our 
 enemies, who flatter but to destroy." 
 
 A PEA-SELLER AND HIS WIFE. 
 
 PEA-SELLER, to whom nature had given no grace 
 of person, nor bestowed any mental endowments, 
 made up for these deficiencies by a large share of physical 
 strength and energy. His wife, too, if not gifted by na- 
 ture with personal attractions, had, by constant companion- 
 ship and intercourse with her husband, acquired his shrewd- 
 ness and penetration. Though their trade was humble, and 
 yielded but a small profit, the pea-seller had, by skill and 
 economy, saved a small amount, and investing it in some other 
 speculations, and more especially in loans of money, he became 
 in time noted as a small capitalist in the place where he was con- 
 ducting business. He had a comfortable house to live in, a well 
 from which to draw water for culinary purposes, and near the well 
 stood a large tamarind tree, on a branch of which some hornets 
 had made a large hive. One night, a thief got into the house, and 
 whilst trying to open a latch of the door, was observed by the 
 pea-seller and his wife, who were awake at the time, and 
 guessed that some one had entered their dwelling. Shrewdly 
 guessing his purpose, the wife spoke in a whisper, which, 
 however, was sufficiently audible to her husband and the



 
 ( 171 ) 
 
 robber, asking where the money box was concealed, the hus- 
 band replied that the box was fastened to a branch of the 
 tamarind tree near the well. The robber, obtaining by chance 
 this information which he was so desirous of learning, aban- 
 doned the thought of getting into the house. He went under 
 the tamarind tree, and looking up, discovered by the reflection 
 of the moonbeams, that something like a box was hanging to 
 one of the branches. He climbed the tree with agility, and 
 just as he had put out his hand and seized the hive, the 
 hornets who were disturbed in their night's repose, flew in 
 numbers to resist the wanton attack. They alighted on 
 his face, hands, and back, inflicting a hundred wounds at once, 
 against the torture of which the robber who could not stand, let go 
 his hold of the tree, and fell with a loud splash into the well be- 
 neath, smarting. There smarting from the stings, he began to 
 kick and buffet the water for some time. The pea-seller, knowing 
 that the robber was safe, let the night pass away quietly, 
 only now and then inquiring who could be bathing at that hour 
 in his well. The next morning the robber was taken up and 
 consigned to the stocks. By his shrewdness and penetration, the 
 pea-seller saved his own and the life of his wife and preserved his 
 property, showing us that every talent has its use, and that our 
 gifts, of whatever degree and quality they may be, are adapted 
 to our special wants. 
 
 A CROCODILE AND FOX. 
 
 STRONG friendship, by mutual kind offices and atten- 
 tion, was contracted between a crocodile and a fox. Their 
 intimacy was not, however, of long duration, for the crocodile 
 capriciously took offence at the reniissness of the fox, in ren-



 
 ( 172 ) 
 
 dering him some service upon which he had fully calculated. The 
 crocodile resolved on the destruction of the fox, and to execute 
 his design, waited near the ghat to which the fox resorted for 
 the purpose of bathing, or drinking. The fox, descending the 
 ghat with a secret presentiment of harm, went down cautiously, 
 and when near the water's brink, he began to lap it with erect 
 ears and vigilant eyes. The crocodile, though himself invisible 
 in the muddy water, could discern every object near the bank. 
 He laid hold of.one leg of the fox with a spring, and was drag- 
 ging him away, when the fox exclaimed " I was prudent to 
 put my cane first into the water, to ascertain its depth, or my 
 leg might have been caught by the fellow. Let him take away 
 my cane ; it is of small consequence." Hearing this, the 
 crocodile felt disappointed and vexed, and in his annoyance, let 
 go his hold of the leg of the fox. The fox, on being extricated 
 from the sharp jaws of his foe, ran up the flight of steps, and 
 called out to the crocodile, '' You fool, does a fox ever walk 
 with a cane ?" 
 
 The crocodile watched diligently for an opportunity of re- 
 venging himself on the fox for his deception and taunts. He 
 therefore crept slowly along, one day, and went quietly into 
 the house of the fox, where he remained silently in the corner, 
 expecting that as soon as the fox returned home after his ram- 
 ble, he would pounce upon him, and show him the strength of 
 his jaws. The fox, going back to his residence, merrily wag- 
 ging his tail, stood still as soon as he smelt a fishy odour, and 
 beginning to snuff the air and cock his ears, spoke thus : 
 " House, house, why do you not welcome me home this even- 
 ing ? I believe there must be somebody within." The croco- 
 dile listened for some time, and then thought that he might 
 make a response for the house. He called out to the fox in a 
 disguised voice, asking him to come into his own house as he 
 was wont to do every evening. The fox replied, " Thou fool, 
 does a house ever speak ? I know thy treacherous voice, and 
 thy evil design ; so adieu."



 
 ( 173 ) 
 
 Baffled in this scheme also, the crocodile thought of another 
 plan to catch the fox. In a field where the bones of dead 
 animals lay strewed bleaching in the sun, and which the fox 
 visited for the purpose of feeding on carrion, the crocodile went 
 and stretched himself down, remaining there for hours showing 
 no signs of life and animation, waiting for the fox. The fox, 
 seeing the crocodile, exclaimed, " This fellow is surely feigning, 
 for dead crocodiles generally turn on their back, and shake their 
 toes." The crocodile heard this speech, and reasoned, that he 
 might as well turn over and confirm the belief of the fox by 
 dispelling his doubts. No sooner had he began to give indi- 
 cations of extinct life as he thought, than the- fox sung out, 
 " Thou fool, does a dead animal ever move, or has it the power 
 of turning over ? " Saying which he trotted away. 
 > The crocodile was very much mortified with his repeated 
 failures, but still he would not abandon his malicious design, 
 and knowing the familiar haunts of the fox, he went to a field 
 covered with tall grass not very far from the banks of the river, 
 where he thought of lying concealed and waiting for the fox 
 to pass. He did so, and watching him from sun-rise to noon, 
 he grew weary, and sleep overtook him. The fox, in the mean 
 time, as he travelled through the field, saw the crocodile taking 
 a nap in the sun-shine, surrounded with a quantity of dry 
 grass and weeds ; so he went and procured some fire with 
 which he ignited the grass, and presently the whole field began 
 to burn. The crocodile, who was bent on the destruction of 
 another, fell into the suare himself. The weapons of malice, 
 and the shafts of injury which we aim at others, often rebound 
 fatally upon ourselves.



 
 ( 174 ) 
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 *$F HERE were two persons who had a sincere attachment for 
 ^i each other ; this sentiment time matured into ardent 
 regard, and the two men were known to be inseparable com- 
 panions and bosom friends. The one had, however, contracted 
 a habit of intemperance, whilst the other made long and loud 
 prayers in thronged places every day, from no sincerity of 
 heart, but rather as an ostentatious display, and from motives of 
 worldly aggrandisement. The praying man missed no oppor- 
 tunity of telling his friend of the evils of drunkenness, in order to 
 dissuade him from a practice so fraught with harm to his health, 
 injury to his reputation, and so detrimental to the comfort, 
 peace, and the happiness of his family ; dwelling on the results 
 which his indulgence in that vice was calculated to produce. He 
 urged him to reflect on the subject, to abandon what was so 
 great an evil, and to pursue the path of sobriety and right- 
 eousness. The unwearied and wholesome counsels of his friend, 
 after some time, had a beneficial effect on the mind of the drunk- 
 ard, and he reformed. He gave up the bad habit entirely, 
 became a man of sincere prayer, and of unostentatious piety ; 
 but though the practice was abandoned, he was still seen to 
 frequent the haunts of the devotees of Bacchus, but with what 
 motive, that was a secret unknown to his associates. His 
 friend still continued to remonstrate with him against his visit- 
 ing public houses, thinking he had not entirely given up the 
 habit of drinking. 
 
 These friends were going together a short journey on a cer- 
 tain day, when one of them, the man of long prayers, 
 happening to find a bag of money on his path, was quite glad 
 at his unexpected good fortune. Going still further on, the



 
 ( 175 ) 
 
 other man's foot hit against a thorn which caused severe pain. 
 It was extracted, but not without some difficulty and suffer- 
 ing. Reflecting upon these favourable and adverse incidents 
 of the journey, the man of long prayers co mmented upon 
 them, drawing the conclusion, that in Grod's service, his wor- 
 shippers meet with a reward even in this life and receive tokens 
 of his generous favour and goodness, Avhile the wicked-doers 
 experience his displeasure, meet with reverses, calamity, and 
 disappointment. 
 
 About this time an angel descended with lightning speed 
 and glowiug with radiant wings, enquired what they were 
 disputing about. This inquiry was not instituted from an 
 ignorance of what had actually transpired ; for a spirit of a 
 higher nature than man's is conversant with these things, 
 some of their number being present on earth, while others 
 receive intelligence ; but the question was put with a view to 
 elicit conversation. The man of long prayers rehearsed all the 
 circumstances that had transpired, giving a short history of the 
 past regarding his friend and himself. " I am the Angel 
 Gabriel," said the ethereal visitant, in a soft, rich, winning voice. 
 " I will explain to you the true state of things. You, who 
 make prayers with a worldly mind and motive, have received 
 in that bag a worldly reward, while this man's prayers, which 
 are sincere and a real outpouring of the soul in humility and 
 earnestness, have ascended to the paradise above, and been heard. 
 The never-healing thorn of future remorse which would have 
 rankled in the bosom of this man through eternity, has been 
 averted by this smaller measure of punishment." Finishing 
 this short address, the angel took his flight, wrapped up in the 
 folds of the clouds, leaving the two friends silent and 
 impressed. 
 
 [This story was recited to me by a person of Sirdhana, the province of 
 Begum Shumroe, wife of a Trench Officer. As she was a Catholic, she invited 
 some Italian priests who settled in the country and were supported by her. 
 This story, therefore, appears to have a Christian idea for its origin.]



 
 ( 176 ) 
 
 A BRAHMIN, A SANDAL WOOD, AND 
 WILD TREES. 
 
 BEAHMIN, being one of the principal persons, is never 
 lost sight of, whatever festival, ceremony, or entertainment 
 may be given in his district within the range of ten or twelve 
 miles, be it the celebration of a marriage, a funeral dinner, or a 
 poojah. A Brahmin was accordingly invited by a Prince to a 
 sumptuous dinner. Going to the entertainment, he had an 
 unpleasant interview with a formidable tiger that was dozing 
 in a field on some soft tufts of grass, which grew plentifully on 
 the spot, and where he lay as if reclining on a bed of ease and 
 comfort. The Brahmin thought if he advanced any further, 
 the rustling of the grass, or the decayed fallen leaves under his feet 
 might rouse the terrible enemy ; he began, therefore, to beat 
 a retreat, facing the foe, but walking backwards with a tread 
 as soft and light as fear could make it. With all his vigilance, 
 however, the tiger was up, for though his eyes were closed, his 
 nasal organs were at work, and the smell of a human being, 
 wafted to him on the breeze, was so delectable to his senses that 
 he awoke from his noon-day siesta, and stretching his body to 
 shake off his drowsiness that he might be the better able to run 
 in pursuit of his prize, he sprang forward. The Brahmin, shak- 
 ing with terror, ran as well as he could to the nearest tree in the 
 neighbourhood with a view to climb beyond the spring of the 
 tiger, but finding the old tree had a cavity large enough to conceal 
 him, he took shelter in the bosom of the tree. By good fortune it 
 happened that it was a sandal tree, which diffused its odour 
 through the air, and the tiger thereby lost all traces of the 
 human being.



 
 ( '77 ) 
 
 The Brahmin, who had remaiued concealed in the tree 
 throughout the night, got out in the morning, and went to the 
 Rajah's entertainment. Wherever he seated himself in the 
 company of the Rajah's numerous guests, a strong smell of the 
 sandal wood was emitted from his person. The visitors and 
 the Rajah began to inquire from whom it came, because the 
 perfume scented the whole palace. All denied, but the Brah- 
 min came forward and recounted all that had happened to 
 him the day before on his journey to the Rajbari. The Rajah 
 was gratified to hear of the valuable tree, which stood not many 
 miles from his residence. He ordered his sappers and miners 
 to bring away every chip of the wood, together with the roots. 
 While this was being done, the servants of the Rajah, knowing 
 that the entertainment at the Rajbari would last for several days, 
 cut down large numbers of wild flowering plants, wherewith to 
 adorn the festive saloon. 
 
 There were two wild trees which grew in the vicinity of the 
 sandal tree. They bore an inveterate antipathy to the sandal 
 tree, the scented shrubs, and the richly coloured flowers of the 
 underwood, on account of the commendation they received from 
 every traveller who journeyed by that path, while none regarded 
 the two wild trees, but passed them with contemptuous neglect. 
 When such a fate overtook the flowering shrubs and the 
 scented sandal, the two wild trees gave voice to their own re- 
 flections " Brother," says the one wild tree to the other, " we 
 had long envied the condition and prosperity of our neigh- 
 bours, but we see that their beauty and attractions have proved 
 a snare to them. The flowering shrubs have been robbed of 
 their ornaments and left bleeding at every pore by the wounds 
 inflicted by cruel men, and the proud sandal has been rooted 
 out of the place, no longer to mock our humble birth and 
 lonely condition. It is true that we could not bear to see the 
 homage paid to the sandal and the flowers, by men and women 
 who adorned their person and took away chips of the tree as a 
 great treasure in their pockets, praising too and commending 
 23



 
 ( 178 ) 
 
 them in our hearing, while we were considered insignificant. 
 
 Would we now wish to have been in their situtiou ? Is it not 
 rather better with all our imperfections to be enjoying health, 
 life, and an undisturbed tranquillity ? Though we bear no 
 external beauty, and our hearts send forth no fragrant sigh to 
 enrich the breeze, or delight the hearts of human beings, we 
 are crowned with luxuriant foliage, and bear flowers useful to the 
 feathery tribes ; thousands of birds are fed by us ; and beneath 
 our sheltering arms they pass the dark perilous hours of night in 
 safety. In the morning and at noon, they repay us with a 
 thousand mellow notes and thrilling melodies. At our feet, 
 how often the weary tenants of the woods have rested pro- 
 tected from the noonday sun and the pelting rain ; have they 
 not looked up to us with eyes expressive of gratitude ? We 
 have not been, therefore, altogether useless in the sphere and 
 condition in which our lot was cast." 
 
 A splinter of the sandal wood which had fallen on the ground 
 and remained there, hearing this pompous speech of the wild 
 tree, made this reproving answer : " Ye wave your branches 
 proudly now that the noble and worthy ones of the forest have 
 fallen. Before their presenc ye were humble and silent. Your 
 base hearts cannot appreciate the nobility of theirs, nor are 
 you taught to value the dignity there is in exhaling our very 
 existence away, in doing good to others, in making others 
 happy, and answering the object of our creation, and thereby 
 leaving a fragrant memory behind us."



 
 ( 179 ) 
 
 A GARDENER AND A WILD BRINJAL 
 PLANT. 
 
 PRINCE of Hindustan had a splendid garden, in which 
 grew all sorts of fruit trees, indigenous as well as of foreign 
 culture ; with flower beds laid out with choice exotics, and 
 some valuable plants of Indian growth ; pretty parterres dividing 
 the plots, and arbours, over which trailed creepers of a variety 
 of forms and diverse foliage. The gardener who superintended 
 the pleasure grounds, having gone one day to a distant market 
 through the adjacent fields, saw a wild brinjal plant which had 
 sprung up through a dense undergrowth of grass. The wild 
 brinjal, seeing the head gardener of the Prince pass, humbly 
 solicited that his generous heart, which had an affection for 
 plants of all tribes, from the stately palmyra to the humble 
 grass ; from the wide-spread banian to the lotus, would compas- 
 sionate his forlorn and destitute condition, for he was choked to 
 death by the smothering embrace of the grass, and could not 
 extract a drop of moisture for his sustenance, on the spot where 
 he was growing, every particle of nutriment being approriated 
 by the wild grass. The briujal requested, therefore, that the 
 gardener would be so good as to transplant him to a corner of 
 the Prince's garden, that he might be able to breathe there 
 more freely, and draw only such nourishment from the soil as 
 was not needed by other families of the garden, not doubting 
 that such a generous act would bring good fortune to the 
 gardener, as good deeds were never lost. The gardener's heart 
 was so softened by this speech of humility and flattery, that he 
 transplanted the brinjal to a remote corner of the garden. 
 
 The garden, being well manured and properly irrigated, the 
 wild briujal grew and spread rapidly, covering a surface of 
 fifty feet square with his progeny of children and grand-chil-



 
 ( 180 ) 
 
 dren, within the space of six months. In this rapid extension, 
 the wild plant had destroyed several nursery plants, and a few 
 other hardy ones too. 
 
 The prince, visiting the garden after some months, and going 
 towards the nursery one evening, discovered the remissness 
 and neglect of his gardener who permitted the growth of the 
 wild brinjal, thereby causing the destruction of several valuable 
 plants. Reproving the gardener for his carelessness, he dis- 
 missed him from the superintendence of the garden and his 
 service. The gardener when dismissed from his post, passed 
 the brinjal, and upbraided the plant for his ill advice, in tempt- 
 ing him to act against his own judgment, for he knew too 
 well that no good could result from planting him in the garden. 
 The plant replied, " Knowing my evil propensities were you 
 wisely persuaded t>y my talk ? My presence is never to- 
 lerated in any well kept garden. All wise gardeners know 
 that where I flourish, there decay and destruction is wrought 
 on all the plants, and a faithful man's duty is to exclude a 
 baneful plant from those that are good and valuable." 
 
 A HERON AND A KINGFISHER. 
 
 HERON, who had, for some time during the dry season, 
 when the river was low, and tanks, j heels, and canals 
 nearly dry, enjoyed an abundance of good fare, for he could 
 then make use of his long legs and go hither and thither in 
 pursuit of small fishes sporting in shallow water, found that the 
 tide of good luck had ebbed as the tide of the river had riseu 
 with the rainy season. His aquariums had been so much inun- 
 dated that he found it hard to get a living any where. The 
 river, the jheels, and the tanks, became equally inaccessible to 
 him. nor, from the depth of water which covered them, could



 
 he pick up even a single tiny fish to keep him from starvation. 
 This misfortune made him thoughtful and unhappy, and he 
 could see by the reflection on the water that his lank figure 
 was getting every day still more attenuated. In this^ distress, 
 he thought of visiting the kingfisher, that he might cultivate 
 his acquaintance, and beg assistance in the dark hour of his 
 necessity. " Friend, we are of the same profession and pursuit, 
 and I might say of almost the same lineage ; we ought to have 
 more sympathy and regard for each other than we have hitherto 
 shown, and this for a still more cogent reason, for should 
 any misfortune happen to you, who could help you so well as 
 I ? Were you to fall sick, and thereby be unable to fish, I 
 would be the very person who could supply you with food every 
 day. Again, in the dry season, when the water is too shallow 
 and you cannot plunge and dive safely for your food, and can 
 obtain by chance alone a scanty fare now and then, you would 
 at such times know the value of my friendship, which could 
 keep your larder replenished. As good and bad fortune alter- 
 nately happen to all, so it is my turn to experience just now 
 some difficulty in fishing when the country is submerged. 
 Should you help me now and then with .a little out of the 
 abundant quantity you get, and thus save me from trouble and 
 starvation, you may calculate on my friendship, and trust to 
 my assistance in all times of need." The kingfisher, who had 
 a generous heart, and who pitied the heron, desired him to 
 live in his neighbourhood during the season of scarcity. Thus 
 the kingfisher supplied food to the heron for three mouths, 
 after which, as the water began to recede from the field, and 
 the jheels, tanks, and canals, began to assume a definite out- 
 line of form, the heron bid his friend good-bye, with a promise 
 of coming to his help so soon as the dry season would render 
 it necessary. Though the kingfisher did not actually need the 
 heron's assistance, still he waited for some months to ascertain 
 if there could be found a single spark of gratitude warming the 
 bosom of a heron. A fortnight after the kingfisher had in-



 
 ( 132 ) 
 
 dulged these thoughts, the heron by accident came and roosted 
 for the night on the very cotton tree in which the kingfisher 
 lived. Opening his eyes in the morning with some surprise 
 at the proximity of the kingfisher, the heron exclaimed, 
 " Friend, your legs are in ugly contrast with your body. Pray, 
 why are they so black f " You ungrateful being ! every 
 thing now appears black and ugly, because your design has 
 been accomplished, and you have gained your object. You are 
 a worthless being, with whom I will not deign to hold any fur- 
 ther conversation, so fly away and conceal your mean person in 
 stagnant pools and among putrid weeds." 
 
 THE JUNGLE FEVER AND THE COBWEB. 
 
 \/A POO-^ wood-cutter, who supported himself and his 
 && family with much toil and difficulty by hewing trees, 
 went into the Sunderbuns for the prosecution of his work. The 
 jungle fever and his friend the cobweb, happening to travel 
 through that forest together, the fever told the cobweb that he 
 was going to fasten himself on the wood-cutter, because his 
 poverty could not provide the means of repelling him, for he 
 could not afibrd to call in a doctor. He advised his friend the 
 cobweb not to enter humble dwellings, for his situation in such 
 a house would be so low as t a be within the reach of every 
 man's arm, whose caprice might place him in constant jeopardy. 
 He advised the cobweb to go therefore to the house of a Prince. 
 The jungle fever went and perched himself on the wood-cutter, 
 who felt a shivering and pains over his body, and with many 
 heavy lios and has, he was forced to give up his occupation 
 and descend from the tree. The wood-cutter going home, took 
 nothing to provide for the wants of his family. He suffered 
 the whole night from fever, but the cries of his children for 
 food induced him in the morning, though still indisposed, to



 
 ( 183 ) 
 
 take up his tools and go out to work. Though shivering 
 under the influence of the fever, the thought of his starving 
 family forced him into vigorous exertion. He worked hard 
 and sweated profusely under the operation. The fever could 
 not any longer stand this effort to throw him off. His inces- 
 sant wrestling with the fever subdued him completely, and 
 he was obliged to leave the wood-cutter. The cobweb, who 
 calculated upon remaining undisturbed in the residence of the 
 prince, was disappointed, for the first thing which a mehtcr, or 
 sweeper did in the morning, was to strike the cobweb with a 
 broom several times till it was dislodged from the roof and 
 flung out of the window. The two friends, meeting each other 
 again afterwards, related about their want of success, coming 
 to a unanimous conclusion that it was a great error to think 
 that fever could remain undisturbed on the person of poor man, 
 or that the cobweb's most tranquil residence was the house 
 of a prince. The cobweb now addressed his friend and tender- 
 ed this advice " Friend, I think you ought to visit the house 
 of a Prince, where you will be highly honored with rich 
 covering and receive the respectful attentions of doctors, noble- 
 men, and ladies of rank. I will content myself by going into 
 the house of this poor wood-cutter, whose poverty will give 
 him no time to think of me and little leisure to occupy himself 
 with the labour of hunting me out from his residence." Being 
 thus resolved, the fever went and settled on the person of a 
 Prince. The Prince, shivering with the fever, covered himself 
 with rich shawls, and called for several doctors, who made much 
 of the sickness and paid great attention to the patient. The 
 cobweb visited the house of the wood-cutter, and not content 
 with lodging in one corner of the roof, spread his domain all 
 over the ceiling with boldness, fully assured that the poor were 
 so occupied as to take no notice of his presence, and if his 
 intrusion was discovered, the poor man had scarcely sufficient 
 time to drive him out from his net- works which he had spread 
 widely through every nook and corner of the ceiling.



 
 ( 184 ) 
 
 THE SON OP AN HONEST MAN- 
 
 N honest yresto, or family man, who on his deathbed left 
 a son and a wife behind, advised his son about the 
 small sum which he had honestly acquired, and which he had 
 hitherto spent prudently, saying that though he might be com- 
 pelled to take service, and his wages might be very small, he 
 should take employment under no one except an honest man. 
 The son and mother lived with the strictest economy for some 
 months, but as the money diminished, the son was forced to 
 look out for a situation. Knowing that there was scarcely a 
 single honest man in the village in which he was residing, he 
 thought of visiting the adjacent town, in order to secure the 
 success of his intentions. 
 
 He called at a respectable man's house, asking for employ- 
 ment, and telling him that he did not mind what pay he 
 might obtain, as that was not of any great consideration to 
 him, but he was anxious to secure a place under a man of pro- 
 bity. The great man told the youngster that he was a mer- 
 chant, and that there was- not much honesty in a profession 
 like his, desiring him at the same time to visit his younger 
 brother, who was in another country, and who was the most 
 likely person to engage his services. The young man journey- 
 ed in search of the house, and was not long in finding out the 
 place, but he was surprised to find the occupant of the house 
 not as he had expected, a younger, but an older man in ap- 
 pearance, though he was the younger brother of the person to 
 whom he had at first applied for situation. The young man 
 stated the terms on which he was desirous of engaging himself. 
 The rich man told him his vocation was that of an usurer, and 
 on that account he could not undertake to be honest. The 
 rich man desired him to go to a certain country, where his



 
 ( 135 ) 
 
 youngest brother was residing, as he would be the most suitable 
 person, and with him the young man might take service and 
 find a congenial master. The honest man's son travelled, and 
 discovered the residence of a very old man, although he was 
 the youngest of the three brothers. He found the man oc- 
 cupied iu counting cowries, or shells. Making the purport of 
 his visit known to him, the old man told him that he was not 
 in affluent circumstances to employ more than one person, but 
 the young man solicited and prayed hard for service in his 
 house, telling him that it was the dying request of his father to 
 decline serving a man who had got rich by dishonest means, 
 however tempting the wages might be, but to serve an honest 
 man, though the salary might be very small. The old man, 
 finding it was not easy to send him away, agreed to employ 
 him for a few quadruple of cowries per month. After the 
 young man had served him for three months, he asked the 
 honest man to be permitted to take leave for three days to go 
 and see how his mother was doing. Before leaving the old man, 
 he received all the cowries which became due to him on the day 
 of his departure. After he had gone a day's journey, and come 
 to a market which was half way from his village, and consider- 
 ed that the entire journey would occupy four days, and he 
 could not be punctual to his promise, he gave up the thought of 
 going to see his mother just then, but resolved upon doing so 
 after the servitude of six months, when he would be entitled 
 to six days' leave. Finding a woman from his village in 
 the market, he purchased a lime for his mother, and sending it 
 by her, he spent the rest of his cowries' in getting a dinner for 
 himself and a clean shave of his chin. Going back to his em- 
 ployer on the second day, and before his leave had expired, the 
 old man was surprised to see him return so soon, but the young 
 man explained the reason of his speedy arrival. He continued 
 in his service for six months, faithfully discharging his duties, 
 but within that period, a Prince of the place where his mother re- 
 sided, being laid up with an obstinate disease, a hakim, or doctor, 
 21



 
 ( 186 ) 
 
 prescribed certain remedies to be administered with the juice of 
 lemon ; but as the Prince's recovery depended on that draught, 
 and it was not obtainable throughout the country, the Prince by 
 beat of a drum made his want known to the public, and offered 
 avery handsome reward to the person who would furnish it. 
 The neighbours of the woman who had a lime from her son, 
 ran and communicated the intelligence to her, desiring her to 
 be expeditious in tendering the fruit to the Prince. She had 
 stuck it into the roof of her hut, and taking it out, she bore it 
 to the palace. The medicine being duly administered accord- 
 ing to prescription, the Prince's recovery was rapid. When 
 quite well, he made her a present of a house, land, and a large 
 sum of money. She began to live in comfort, and was sur- 
 rounded with all that her heart could desire, yet these could 
 not make up for the absence of her son, for whom she sighed 
 daily, longing to know where he was, and how he was em- 
 ployed, but all inquiries on that head terminated in disappoint- 
 ment, and her heart remained weighed down with sorrow. The 
 young man was equally desirous of seeing his mother. Now 
 that six months had expired, and he was privileged to obtain 
 six days' leave, he asked and obtained his employer's permission 
 to visit her. 
 
 The old man counted out the shells which were due to him for 
 the six months he had served. With his earnings he got himself 
 shaved, bought some light refreshment for the journey, and pur- 
 chased a fish for his mother, to pickle and preserve which from 
 taint, he procured a small quantity of salt. Travelling on his way 
 with the fish and salt, he 'thought that it was a pity he had no 
 knife with which to salt the fish. He went to some neighbouring 
 cottages and asked for the loan of a knife. Some refused the loan, 
 being too lazy to find out one, but a woman whose heart 
 was full of the milk of kindness, drew one from the reed mat 
 partition, and offered it. He divided the fish, and inserted the 
 salt to preserve it, and while curing it, he discovered in the 
 head of the fish, a gem of inestimable value which, by accident,



 
 ( 187 ) 
 
 touching the iron knife lent him by the woman, transmuted it 
 into pure gold. 
 
 The instrument being returned to the owner, she was surpris- 
 ed to find it changed into gold. She hastened with joy to show 
 it to her neighbours, who, with herself, believed her strange 
 visitant to be a saint, to honor whom would be a privilege and 
 a meritorious work, they ran therefore to find him, but he had 
 gone beyond their reach and sight. 
 
 The honest youth met no other adventure or molestation in 
 his journey. In due time he arrived at his native village, and 
 not perceiving his maternal residence, inquired what had be- 
 come of several matted cottages which existed not long ago in 
 that locality, and where the widow was who had an only son 
 who had gone out to work. To these queries the response 
 was that great changes had taken place in the village, by the 
 sudden elevation of the widow to affluence and comfort, for her 
 son had sent her an ordinary lemon as a present, which being 
 the means of saving the Prince from a dangerous indisposition, 
 he had rewarded her liberally, and had made her independent. 
 The son approached his mother's mansion with garments 
 which bespoke poverty and want ; and fear made him feel 
 diffident in asking for admission of the warders, lest they should 
 disbelieve his assertion that he was the son of the owner. He 
 waited patiently for a short while, to see if he could discover 
 any familiar face coming forth from the house, to whom he 
 might confide his story and gain credence. A well known man 
 of the village who was employed by the widow, at length made 
 his appearance, and by him the glad tidings was borne to the 
 anxious mother. Being informed of his arrival, the widow ran 
 to meet the object of her only consolation on earth. The son 
 was soon locked in the mother's fond embrace. Streams of 
 tears ran down both their cheeks, but they were not the in- 
 dications of sorrow, but of joy which had succeeded so sud- 
 denly to their late anxiety and apprehension. The mother 
 furnished him with all the necessaries of life which could add



 
 ( 188 ) 
 
 to his happiness or comfort. Two days were spent joyously in 
 recounting to each other the history of the past six months, 
 after which, the time approached for him to return to 
 the old man as he had promised ; he accordingly left 
 home after a few days, going to his employer in a comfort- 
 able boat. His employer welcomed him with cor- 
 diality, for he found him to be a truly faithful, diligent, 
 and honest person, with whom he was well pleased, and 
 with whose service he was satisfied. The young man informed 
 him how the fortune of his mother was made by means of the 
 honestly acquired cowries which had come to him from the 
 coffers of an honest man ; and how he himself had bought a 
 wonderful fish with an invaluable jewel in its head. He was de- 
 sirous of touching with the stone everything which the old man 
 possessed, but his employer said that he was perfectly satisfied 
 with his condition, and happy in it, knowing that Grod had placed 
 him in that position. The young man warmly invited his employ- 
 er to go and spend some weeks with them. He accepted the pro- 
 posal with pleasure, intending to witness their happiness, and 
 delight himself with the contemplation of the change wrought 
 in their circumstances by an all- wise, beneficent, and gracious 
 Providence. The mother was very glad to see and become ac- 
 quainted with the good man who had taken care of her son, and 
 who was always his wise counsellor. The honest man, after a 
 residence of a few days, produced the gem with which he touched 
 all their property and changed it into gold. He said it was 
 their right to have the benefit of the stone, and not proper for 
 him to aspire after, that which was not his property, for it would 
 indicate his murmuring spirit, his dissatisfaction, and discon- 
 tent. After spending a fortnight with them very happily, he 
 took leave to go to his own country, promising to see them 
 when business brought him again into their locality. By all 
 that transpired in the life of the widow and her son, they learnt 
 the lesson, that acting fairly and justly, in whatever sphere 
 and condition of life we may be placed, meets with a reward in



 
 ( 180 ) 
 
 this world, either by an increase of property, or the pleasing self- 
 satisfaction which it inspires, and which is of greater value still. 
 
 DHURM RAJAH. 
 
 RAJAH'S father having died, it became imperative for 
 him to give a dinner to one thousand and one persons, 
 and to distribute alms among all classes of his guests. This 
 circumstance being known to the bazar men, the confectioner, 
 the cloth-merchant, the brazier, and the tyreman, they had all 
 received their respective orders to furnish the rajbari with 
 a large supply of their ware. Besides these men to whom 
 instructions were communicated to furnish the necessaries in 
 requisition for the obsequies, the Rajah's command was, that 
 if any one brought any article expecting to earn a trifle on such 
 an occasion, he would not disappoint them, but would purchase 
 their goods. Tradesmen came flocking in during the whole 
 course of the day with large quantities of their respective 
 articles. 
 
 When all the guests had arrived, they were served with 
 water to wash themselves, after which, a suit of clothes was 
 given to each brahmin, with other necessary articles. The first 
 course of the entertainment was rice and curry, after that, as a 
 second course, tyre and rice were helped out to them. No sooner 
 had the one thousand and one brahmin partaken of tyre and 
 rice, then they fell down dead on the spot. The Rajah was 
 very unhappy on account of this sad accident. He thought 
 people would look upon him with abhorrence, as being the 
 murderer of so many holy men, or at least, if not the actual 
 perpetrator of such an atrocity, still as a man so profligate, that 
 the performance of an act of piety was not permitted him, or 
 that an audacious attempt was undertaken, and a fearful catas- 
 trophe betokened the displeasure of heaven.



 
 This unfortunate event induced Dhurm Rajah to place the 
 reins of his government in the hands of his Dewan, and to set 
 out on a pilgrimage, and live secluded in some solitary forest, de- 
 voting himself to penance and prayer. He journeyed on 
 for some days until he came in sight of a forest which had 
 peculiar attractions for him, and there he resolved to spen d the 
 residue of his days in heavenly contemplation. 
 
 A sage resided in the forest, who was believed to go to 
 paradise daily for the purpose of attending the court above. 
 Dhurm Rajah wandered about the forest for two days, and on 
 the third, he came in sight of the hut of this sage, on the back 
 of which he remained concealed for the purpose of ascertain- 
 ing the character of the person who resided therein. The 
 sage's last visit to paradise being rather protracted, his wife 
 asked him the reason why he stayed two days away from home. 
 He replied, that " a pious Rajah who had recently given an 
 entertainment to some brahmins, performing his duty as a sou to 
 bis deceased father should, and doing an act of charity and piety, 
 had met with a lamentable misfortune. The one thousand and 
 one brahmins who had partaken of the tyre which Dhurm Rajah 
 ordered to be served out to them, had fallen down dead the 
 moment they had tasted it. " We have been very busy," 
 he said " these two days in investigating the subject. We 
 have been thinking who would be the right person on whom 
 to lay the sin. When the tyre was being taken to the rajbaree, 
 a vulture was flying with a putrid snake for his food over the 
 head of the tyremau. The putrescent matter which dripped 
 from the carcase, fell into a pot of tyre, and that tyre being 
 poured out and mixed with other pots, envenomed the whole 
 fluid, and caused the destruction of the brahmins. Were we to 
 charge the snake, vulture, tyrernan, or Rajah with the crime of 
 their death ? This question has engaged our thoughts for some 
 time." The Rajah was gratified iu obtaining a solution of 
 what appeared to him very mysterious and inexplicable. He 
 now thought of remaining a day longer in his concealment,



 
 that the further disclosure of the decisions of the ethereal court, 
 whirl i the sage might make to his wife, would euable him to 
 learn to whom the crime had been imputed. 
 
 The Rajah enjoyed greater peace of mind and more satisfac- 
 tion of heart, now that he knew that he was exonerated from 
 the sin, and having more joy in his bosom, he felt a desire to 
 ramble about the forest, as no one there was familiar with his 
 person, and none therefore could lift up the finger of reproach 
 against him. But he was not left long undisturbed even in 
 such a retired spot, for a man issued out of the forest, having 
 a vessel in his hand, who recognised the Rajah at a glance. 
 The man exclaimed with surprise, and some fear, " Ha! what 
 have I done to see this sinner's face in the morning ; the man 
 who has been the murderer of a thousand and one brahmins ! 
 What misfortune may befall me to-day !" Just as the man had 
 spoken these words, and articulated these unjust accusations 
 against the Rajah, the sin was recorded in the archives of hea- 
 ven against that man. The Rajah went and hid himself again 
 behind the house of the sage, waiting his return. The sage 
 came back earlier than before, when he was asked by his wife 
 the reason of his speedy reappearance. He replied that for 
 three days and nights they were employed in discovering 
 whose sin it was, when the Rajah going out one morning for a 
 walk, met with a worthless reprobate, who was also sauntering 
 about in the forest. On seeing Dhurm Rajah, he ejaculated 
 that it was a misfortune to have beheld that morning the face 
 of a great sinner who had slain more than one thousand brah- 
 mins. For this wicked speech, and presumptuous charge against 
 the Rajah, on whom none of the judges of the heavenly court 
 could place the smallest stigma, it was adjudged that the sin 
 should be recorded in that man's name. " The reason why I 
 have come back," he added, " earlier than before, is because the 
 investigation has closed. Dhurm Rajah should now go back 
 to his own kingdom, and execute the other rites and ceremo- 
 nies as prescribed in the shastcrs, and then rule his subjects with



 
 ( 192 ) 
 
 equity and kindness, as lie has hitherto done." Dhurm Rajah, 
 hearing this from the place of his concealment, glided away 
 from the forest silently but thoughtfully. He went to his 
 own realm, where he resumed his station and office as before, 
 pacified in his own mind that the sad catastrophe had happened 
 by no sin of his, and which might have been intended to teach 
 him lessons of wisdom and caution, not to judge others hastily, 
 nor arrogate to himself the prerogatives of the Supreme Ruler 
 of the Universe. 
 
 THE STORY OP A BADSHA. 
 
 ( M^ 
 
 ^|P HERE was a Badsha, who sat one evening in his ver- 
 ^jl andah, and saw the wide sea extending before him in all 
 directions, in the majesty of an interminable expanse, when a 
 small craft came sailing from some island, and anchored at his 
 very ghat. A jogliee, or religious mendicant, issued from the 
 craft and wended his way to the residence of the Badtha. 
 The Baikha desired his Prime Minister, or Yizier, to inquire 
 what business the joghee had with him. The man replied 
 that he had come to sell three adages, which might, some time or 
 other, be of great importance and use to His Highness. Being in- 
 vited to the presence of the Badsha, after saluting him respect- 
 fully, he repeated the purport of his visit, and was asked what 
 sum he desired for selling his three sayings. The joghee asked 
 three thousand Rupees. The Badsha consenting to his terms, 
 requested him to communicate them " The first," he said, " is 
 that to be awake is better than to sleep ; the second, that to be 
 seated is better than to stand ; thirdly, it is better to walk than 
 to sit." The Badsha asked if these were all that he had to com- 
 municate. The joghee said that his three adages were told, and 
 that he had nothing to mention besides. The Badsha felt disap-



 
 ( 193 ) 
 
 pointed and chagrined that for these three simple sayings he would 
 have to pay that high sum ; so out of vexation he palled off a 
 ring of that value from one of his fingers and flung it to the 
 joghcc. He, receiving the costly gem, retired from the durbar with 
 expressions of thankfulness. The Bad$ha, in the mean time, 
 going to his chamber, inscribed the words on the walls of his 
 apartment, just before his bedstead. When he had gone to his 
 dormitory for the night, and awoke in the morning, his eyes fell 
 on the words, " to be awake is better than to sleep," he thought, 
 that having spent so much on the maxims, it would be proper 
 that he should test their value, and so he kept himself awake. 
 Being awake, he read " to be seated is better than to stand ;" 
 he accordingly seated himself. Again, as his eyes rested on 
 the third inscription on the wall, " that it is better to walk than 
 to sit," he got out of his room and began to stride about in the 
 hall right earnestly. In this employment, he saw a gigantic 
 African on a wall of the palace, who, having scaled it, brought 
 the ladder over to the opposite side, and began to descend into 
 the inner court. He then went on to the quarter where the 
 Shazadee, or Princess, resided, and awaking her from sleep, 
 they removed the cot, by doing which a secret door was opened, 
 leading to another apartment which they entered. The Badsha 
 followed them unperceived. Having gone after them, he found 
 a superb palace and a pleasant garden which were much finer 
 and costlier than those which he had erected. He now began 
 to perceive that this structure was built by money which came 
 out of his own purse, and done by his daughter who, being an 
 only child, was indulged and gratified with all that she needed, 
 or which her whim and fancy solicited. He then saw the 
 African and the Princess, after spreading a carpet of the highest 
 value, seat themselves to play a game of chess. Seeing their 
 familiar intercourse, he went behind with his scimitar and de- 
 capitated both with one fell stroke. With his open sword he 
 went on walking in the garden, when he discovered another 
 African, brother to the former, of a still more etalwart 
 25



 
 ( 194 ) 
 
 and Herculean build. The fellow, seeing the Badsha 
 approaphing with his naked sword, still reeking with gore, 
 thought no doubt that he had slain his brother, and was 
 now coming from that act of retribution to execute farther 
 vengeance ; so he grappled with him in a deadly contest. They 
 wrestled and struggled from midiiight till near dawn, neither 
 succeeding in subduing his antagonist. Adam and Eve were 
 passing about this time in the air above their heads, when Eve 
 said to Adam, " See, the Badsha' s life is in jeopardy, and he will 
 in all probability lose it ; his adversary is more powerful than 
 he." Then Adam spoke to Eve in an audible voice that the Badsha 
 might hear and follow the advice. He remarked that the Badsha 
 was very forgetful in not remembering that the gallows stood not 
 far from the spot, and all therefore which he had to do was to push 
 his adversary forward till he brought him beneath the gallows, 
 when he might fling its pendant rope over the neck of his foe. 
 Having taken the hint, the Badsha wrestled with his adversary 
 until he dragged him below the gallows, when he succeeded ia 
 placing the rope round his neck. After this performance, he 
 discerned a woman coming to meet the African. She was 
 found to be the daughter of the Vizier, who had come to keep 
 her assignation with him. She coming up to the scaffold asked 
 her expiring lover who it was that had hung him. He answer- 
 ed that for their sake, meaning her and the Princess, both he 
 and his brother were brought to suffering and death. He de- 
 sired her to put her little finger in his mouth to allay his pain. 
 When she did so, he bit it off and then expired with it in his 
 mouth. The wily daughter of the Yizier, having spied the 
 Badsha at a distance retiring to his palace, and to conceal the 
 cause of the loss of her finger, ran back to her house, where, 
 throwing herself on her bed, she began to scream out, crying 
 that the officer of the watch had entered her apartment with an 
 intention to rob, but failing to execute his nefarious design, 
 from her vigilance, he had cut off one of her fingers. This uproar 
 brought her parents to her room, who, learning the cause of the



 
 ( 195 ) 
 
 tumult, ordered the immediate execution of the officer. When 
 the officer was taken before the scaffold, the noise and bustle, 
 consequent on such scenes, awoke the Badsha, who, having as- 
 certained the reason, sent a message upbraiding the Vizier for 
 his rashness in ordering the execution without first apprising 
 him of his intention. The Vizier -excused himself by saying, that 
 when the finger of his child was destroyed by such a villain 
 without reason or provocation, his ungovernable passion urged 
 him to take an instant satisfaction. 
 
 The Badsha, who desired his Vizier to follow him, told him, 
 that he would have found cause to regret the step which he 
 was about to take, had he not prevented it. They went on to- 
 gether till they came to the quarters where the Vizier's daughter 
 was residing. There he desired the Vizier to help him in lift- 
 ing the cot on which his daughter slept, when they discovered 
 a secret door into which the Badsha entered first, and then the 
 Vizier followed. The Vizier began to be surprised how the 
 Badsha came to know the privacies of his house. They conti- 
 nued the walk up to the garden, when the superb palace was 
 visited, and the carpet of uncommon beauty and value was seen, 
 with the bodies of the Princess and the African. The Badsha 
 then conducted the silent, wondering minister up to the gallows, 
 where he gave him his cane which had a curved handle. With 
 that he desired him to open the mouth of the African, and the 
 finger of the Vizier's daughter, with a ring on it, fell out. The 
 Bads/id now gave his sword to him, telling him to destroy and 
 remove the object of his disgrace, and then to bury the two 
 heads, but to bring back their bodies to him. The bodies 
 being taken to the Badxlta according to instruction, they were 
 ordered to be exposed at the choick, or the principal square of a 
 bnzar, and a person was set to watch if any one should say any- 
 thing regarding the bodies, and to report on it. 
 
 A merchant who possessed great wealth, and carried on an 
 extensive trade, had come to the country where the Badsha 
 presided with his court. He had three daughters ; they took a



 
 ( 196 ) 
 
 fancy to go out one evening in disguise as men, with a view to 
 stroll about without restraint. They walked up to the spot 
 where the bodies were exposed, when one of the sisters remarked 
 before the corpses, that the men used to wear platted hair ; the 
 second sister observed, that the men were in the habit of chew- 
 ing beetle and of putting antimony to their eyes ; the youngest 
 sister's remark was, that if she were the Africans, she might 
 have shown some better fun. The man who watched the bodies, 
 followed the three sisters to ascertain their residence. Having 
 done so, he apprised the Badsha of what had transpired. The 
 Badsha summoned the three daughters of the merchant that 
 they might come and give the reason of their remarks. The 
 merchant inquired of his daughters if they had been out on the 
 previous day, and in what costume. They told their father of 
 the disguise assumed by them, and what they had spoken 
 about the two bodies exposed at the chowli. They assured their 
 father that they were under no fear to appear before the Bad- 
 sha, and to tell him the reason of those remarks. They were 
 conveyed in covered palkees and placed before the durbar. The 
 Badsha asked the first daughter how she had acquired the in- 
 formation that the Africans used to wear platted hair ? She 
 answered that she had discovered some marks on their backs 
 which clearly indicated that they had worn their hair after 
 that fashion. The second daughter was asked how she came to 
 know that they were in the habit of chewing beetle, and ting- 
 ing their eyes with some black powder ? She replied their 
 fingers bore marks of the beetle which they had frequently 
 used, and the skirts of their garments which had been used to 
 wipe the superabundance of the powder from the eyelids, in- 
 dubitably proved the habit they had of colouring their eyelids. 
 The third daughter was asked what fun it was which she would 
 have shown if she were the Africans. She replied that she was 
 willing to communicate the secret if the Badsha would first 
 draw up twenty-one pitchers of water from a well, aiid pour 
 their contents round the spring. The Badsha being pleased



 
 ( 197 ) 
 
 with her wit and spirit, desired that the other two conveyances 
 might be taken back to the merchant's, while he sent his 
 Yizier with overtures of marriage to the father. The merchant's 
 consent being obtained, he was married to Farcoonda. Being 
 again interrogatad about the interpretation of what she had ex- 
 pressed, she urged the condition on which she was willing to 
 disclose her secret. The BadsJia felt annoyed that she persisted 
 in imposing a task which was beneath his dignity to perform. 
 Seeing him so headstrong on the point, she too became obstinate. 
 From vexation, he ordered the erection of a tower on one of the 
 rocks of the sea, which should possess a single aperture for venti- 
 lation, and be the medium of communication with the interior 
 for the purpose of supplying daily food to the inmate. Into this 
 tower Farcoonda was sent and confined. Three mouths had passed 
 without anything of interest occurring to break and diversify 
 the monotony of her dull existence in the tower. On the fourth 
 month, early in the evening, she heard the splash of innumer- 
 able oars, and being herself the daughter of a merchant, she 
 knew at once that a fleet of some merchant vessels were passing 
 the place ; she, therefore, having inscribed some words on a 
 thin brick slab, flung it through the aperture, and it fell on the 
 seventh and last vessel on which the merchant was. The in- 
 scription was to this effect : "I am a handsome woman whom 
 you may possess by releasing." The plate descended just at the 
 feet oC the merchant who, reading the engraving, ordered the 
 inmate to be released. When a gap had been effected, the hand- 
 some prisoner was seen and admired by the merchant, but the 
 moment Farcoonda saw him, she saluted him with the appella- 
 tion of father, saying that her reason for doing so was that she 
 was the wife of a Badaha who would be thankful to him for his 
 parental care of her. The merchant's vessels were all moored 
 in the very country where the husband of Farcoonda was the 
 reigning Badsha. The merchant, at her request, engaged a 
 magnificent house right opposite to the palace. She desired 
 him to spare no expense in procuring twenty-one girls for her,



 
 ( 198 ) 
 
 who might bear the closest resemblance to her in person, figure, 
 and appearance ; and when they were procured, then to expose 
 his goods for public inspection, and especially to invite the 
 Badsha to come and make his first choice. When the girls were 
 brought to the merchant's, Farcoonda had each of them dressed 
 with an apparel differing from the others, and all bedecked with 
 a profusion of costly jewellery. On the morning when the 
 Badsha was expected, one of the maids with a blue garb, was 
 sent to offer some folds of beetle, and otto of roses, on a salver 
 of elaborate workmanship. Just as the maid had offered them 
 he, seeing her so like his own wife, exclaimed with pleasure and 
 surprise, " Ah, Farcoonda, how have you come here ?" and 
 as with this ejaculation he was about to embrace her, the 
 maid, being prepared to make an appropriate answer, re- 
 plied : " Badsha, it is beneath your dignity to stoop to a servant, 
 and regard her with so much familiarity." Another girl was sent 
 on the following day with a scarlet robe, on a similar office, when 
 the icadsha had come on another visit. The Badsha was again 
 deceived with the likeness between his wife and these waiting 
 maids. He was again about to embrace her ; when the second 
 maid remarked, " Badsha, your taste must be low, and your 
 habits not strictly moral, otherwise you would not evince such 
 familiarity with a menial." In this manner all the twenty-one 
 girls were paraded before him, and he mistook all of them for 
 his own wife, Farcoouda. Last of all, Farcoonda presented 
 herself one morning, when he was about to repeat the same 
 thing. Farcoonda observed, " Wah, Badsha, the twenty-one 
 waiting maids of the merchant were all supposed to be Far- 
 coondas in your estimation. How low a value you must set on 
 your wife." With this prelude, Farcoonda entered into intel- 
 ligent and agreeable conversation with the Badsha on that 
 and several following days. He was charmed with her wit, good 
 sense, and conversational ability ; nor did the attractions of 
 her person lessen by frequent sight and familiarity, but they 
 rather heightened as her valuable qualities were daily de-



 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 veloped. To divert the evenness of their daily intercourse, Far- 
 coonda proposed to ride on a fine day, and for this purpose, 
 ordered a handsome pony, accoutred with rich trappings for 
 him, and for herself, a noble charger of lank anatomy, but orna- 
 mented with grand housings. Before riding, it was proposed 
 to the Badsha that whoever should arrive first at the house, 
 after going round the course, should be the slave of the other. 
 Knowing that the pony would go in a peculiar sort of amble, 
 which, though graceful and easy, was not of any speed, she 
 proffered it to the Bads/ta, but he declined, saying that an 
 animal so prettily ornamented was better suited to her riding 
 than his. Farcoonda would on no account assent, but pi'evailed 
 on him to ride it. When mounted, she applied the gentle stroke 
 of her whip to the charger, and it bounded forward, leaving 
 the JBadaha far behind. He began to chafe with vexation, 
 lashed the poor animal furiously, fearing to loose the race, but 
 his beating could not augment the natural speed of the pony. 
 Farcoonda had, in the mean while, gone far round the ring, 
 and halted near a well, at which she descended, and having 
 exchanged her costume with a farmer's wife, and tethered her 
 horse at an adjacent copse, went and sat near the well with 
 that common dress. Resting her head on her knees, she began 
 to cry and wail, louder and more piteously, the nearer she saw 
 the Badaha approach. Hearing the cry of a lonely woman at the 
 well, he commiserated her distress, and felt for her sad situation. 
 Descending from the pony, he inquired the reason of her sorrow, 
 and as she lifted her reclining head, by that act her beauty was 
 partially revealed to the admiring eyes of the Badsha. She in- 
 formed him that she had a rite to perform, and there was no one 
 to help her, for she was weak of strength to perform it ; that she 
 had an imperative duty in fulfilment a certain vow, and that to lift 
 twenty-one pitchers of water from that deep well. Saying this, 
 she essayed to lift the water-pot, and to commence her work, 
 but the gallant Badsha offered to help her, as she was letting 
 down her pot. He had thus lifted the water, and poured



 
 ( 200 ) 
 
 round the spring for the twentieth time, when Farcoonda slid- 
 ed away, and mounting the charger, was soon out of sight, and 
 at home before he could remount the pony. The Badaha was 
 again annoyed that he lost time and the race, and on this 
 account he felt no disposition to go to the merchant's, but pro- 
 ceeded on slowly and moodily to his own palace. 
 
 For several days, Farcoouda found the Bads/ia not disposed to 
 visit her from his disappointment, vexation, and shame. She 
 therefore thought of another device. She dressed herself like a 
 respectable native officer, and mounting a highly mettlesome 
 steed, went every morning and galloped and curvetted before the 
 palace windows, for several consecutive days. The Bachlia 
 seeing this singular equestrian every day, capering and pranc- 
 ing, became desirous of knowing who he was; for this purpose 
 he was invited to the palace. He inquired who the rider was, 
 what was his name, and what was it that he was seeking. 
 She replied that she was a soldier of fortune, her name 
 was Farcoonda Khan, and that she was in quest of employ- 
 ment. He was so pleased with the handsome looks of 
 the officer, that he willingly engaged his service for E,s. 100 
 per month, intending to have him always before his eyes, 
 that he might look upon his beautiful person and graceful 
 figure. The Bachlia whiled away his unemployed hours in the 
 agreeable and intelligent conversation of the officer, or in play- 
 ing chess at night. In this manner, time glided on silently, 
 when Farcoonda Khan thought of playing a game on a wager. 
 In this game she won from him his signet ring, waistband, and 
 his sword ; having obtained these, Farcoonda Khan sought her 
 cot, which was not far from the BadtJia't, and going to rest for 
 the night, her head dress fell off, and by it he discovered her 
 luxuriant hair, and her sex. Now that Farcoonda Khan had 
 obtained her wish, by getting those articles which belonged to 
 the Badsha, to prove her skill and the guiltlessness of her inti- 
 macy, she rose up before dawn and went away to the merchant's. 
 She acquainted the merchant that it was now her best time to



 
 ( 201 ) 
 
 go back to the tower, thanked him for his more than parental 
 care of her, promising that some time or other, she might have 
 the pleasing gratification of repaying him for his benevolent 
 action. When she had got within the tower, she desired the 
 workman to build up the gap. When nine months had expired 
 after her self-imposed confinement, she had a son born in the 
 tower. The man who brought her food daily,was surprised to hear 
 the cry of a baby within the building. When he went back after 
 furnishing her allowance of bread and water, he duly informed 
 the Badsha of the strange incident. The Badsha was greatly 
 incensed on hearing what lie thought would tend to his perpe- 
 tual dishonor, so he proceeded to the tower with the intention 
 of cutting her down with his sword after having satisfied himself 
 of the truth of the report. Groing and ordering an aperture to be 
 made in the tower, and when an opening was effected sufficiently 
 wide for the admission of a person, Furcoonda sent down the un- 
 conscious, baby with a looking-glass for the Badsha to consult 
 his own physiognomy, and compare it with that of the child; 
 and also his belt, sword, and the signet ring. The BadJia became 
 now fully sensible that the child was his own progeny, and the 
 ingeniousness of Farcoonda, her innocence and virtuous dis- 
 position, were disclosed and made apparent by all that trans- 
 pired. He took her home, acknowledging his rashness and 
 hasty disposition, and doating on her much more for the perfec- 
 tion of her character which these circumstances had brought to 
 light ; the injustice which he had done her previously, and the 
 severity he had exercised, these he admitted were culpable.* 
 
 * The story of Adam and Eve, after the fashion iu which it is given here, 
 leads me to think that this tale has a Moslem origin. 
 
 26



 
 ( 202 ) 
 
 THE STORY OP A MERCHANT. 
 
 ^F HERE was a merchant who was not only famous for his 
 \$. smartness and skill in his occupation, but was known for 
 a good and benevolent man in the country in which he lived. 
 It was indispensable from the nature of his calling, that he should 
 leave his country on long journies at times, in order to pro- 
 secute his trade with distant nations. Thus he had prepared to 
 set out for a period of twelve years ; but before doing so, he 
 deemed it proper to leave strict instructions with his mother, 
 regarding her care and watchfulness over his wife, whose want 
 of experience and mature judgment might lead her, though un- 
 wittingly, into acts of impropriety in the absence of the restrain- 
 ing influence of moral example, or wise precept. But there 
 existed, unfortunately, a perpetual disagreement between the 
 mother-in-law and her daughter-in-law. The merchant's mother 
 was glad to have this authority delegated to her, and thought 
 in her own mind that it was now her opportunity to revenge 
 herself upon her untractable, headstrong daughter-in-law ; for 
 the very first fault which she might find her commit, she 
 would endeavour to pack her off from the house. Being 
 constantly on the watch, she saw that her daughter-in-law's 
 maid-servant, on getting out early one morning, left the 
 gate open. Upon this pretence, she met her, and rebuking for 
 opening the gate at an unseasonable hour and leaving it ajar, 
 desired her daughter-in-law to quit the house instantly. The 
 innocent creature made solemn protestations as to her not being 
 guilty of any improper act, but the old woman, who was deter- 
 mined upon sending her away from the house, would not listen 
 to any asseverations which she made. 
 
 Nine months after the departure of her son, on his trading 
 expedition, she sent his wife away, and acquainted him of the



 
 ( 203 ) 
 
 circumstance by letter in an exaggerated form. At the time 
 when the merchant's wife was quitting the house, she informed 
 her mother-in-law that, as she was carrying, and was soon 
 expecting to be confined, she might permit her to live in 
 a hut in the neighbourhood, and after the birth of her 
 child, she would then gladly go away and seek her fortune 
 elsewhere. But determined as she was to revenge herself, 
 she would not listen to any pleading which her daughter- 
 in-law had offered. She was forced to go away, but whi- 
 ther, she could not determine upon, for want of the know- 
 ledge of the country and the roads. Her troubles and sorrows 
 had almost driven her to the verge of insanity ; in short, people 
 thought that she had gone crazy. As she was lying in a state 
 of utter helplessness on the road-side, Masoom Mulna, passing 
 that way and seeing her, asked her history, but she was, from 
 prostration of strength, prevented from saying any more than 
 disclosing the condition of her want and suffering. The Mulua 
 invited her to his house, telling her that she might live with his 
 family, who would provide for her wants, and assist her in her 
 confinement. When she was conducted to the Mulna's resi- 
 dence, his wife, a shrewd and punctilious woman, was displeased 
 that a woman was picked up from the streets, and admitted 
 into the family without knowing who she was, and what 
 character she had previously sustained in the world. " She is 
 in great distress, and is near the time of her confinement," said 
 the humane Mulna, " and this is sufficient reason for us to 
 shelter her at present." The over-scrupulous wife would not 
 so easily yield up her point. She rejoined, " For your probity 
 and unblemished character, the people of the village compli- 
 ment you by calling you Mulua. The presence of a handsome 
 stranger in our habitation might give to scandalous men an 
 excuse to stigmatise your reputation, and you would forfeit 
 your good name thereby. I would, therefore, advise you to 
 send her to live in yonder shed under the cocoanut tree." 
 This proposition being acceded to by her husband, she was 
 placed in possession of the hut.



 
 ( 201 ) 
 
 A village road lay close by the hut, and by that road a zemin- 
 dar was journeying, who seeing that the woman belonged to some 
 respectable family, inquired after her circumstances, and finding 
 that she was in actual destitution, sent her a fewrupees to help her 
 in her need. This small assistance was of great use, as she was 
 soon confined of a very handsome son, such as is rarely born even 
 in the house of a Prince. The midwife who attended on her, waited 
 to be remunerated for her service. The merchant's wife related 
 her distress, and informed her that she had lately received a pre- 
 sent of twenty rupees, out of which she had spent some, but that 
 she was willing to give her eight rupees, and to reserve a few to 
 meet her own future wants. About this time, the wife of a Vi- 
 zier was also in labour, and his servants were sent to invite the 
 midwife over, but not finding her at home, they had come in 
 search of her. As she was returning from the poor woman's 
 house, they met her and conducted her to the Vizier. 
 
 The midwife, on arriving at the Vizier's house, desired to 
 know on what terms he wished to engage her services. He 
 being a wicked cunning man, said, that it was customary to 
 pay four annas at the parturition of a boy, and if a girl, it 
 ought to be but two annas. The midwife informed him that 
 she had attended a short time ago on a poor woman who was 
 dependent on the charity of a Mulna, and that she had given 
 her eight rupees, and she was confined of a boy so hand- 
 some that even among the noble and affluent, she had never 
 seen his like. The Vizier, who had a daughter, dismissed the 
 woman after paying her four rupees for her assistance. 
 
 He could not forget what he heard about the child of this 
 poor woman, for he was desirous of possessing him, and rear- 
 ing the boy up as his son. In the court to which he attended, 
 there were four men who were long known to him as being 
 adepts in all sorts of trickery and villany. He invited them 
 to a private conference, in which he promised them a handsome 
 reward if they could bring him the child secretly. These men, 
 who were quite up to any atrocious deed, and to any desperate



 
 ( 205 ) 
 
 work, hesitated at this novel kind of tax put upon their skill. 
 The Vizier, seeing them somewhat reluctant to venture on this 
 sort of undertaking, promised them a higher reward. The love 
 of money tempted men of such black character to any work, 
 stifling their gentler feelings if they possessed any in the deep 
 and secret recesses of their hearts. They went on their errand, 
 consulting with each other as to the best and the most efficient 
 mode of executing the work, when finding very opportunely a 
 pumpkin which grew on a shed on the road which they were 
 pursuing, they took it, and substituting it for the child, brought 
 away the baby and made him over to the Vizier, who was highly 
 pleased with the success of his secret wish. He brought up 
 the child as his own, gave him a good education, and supplied 
 all his wants. The poor mother, after so great a loss as the 
 bereavement of her first-born, became distracted in mind. She 
 went about roving from place to place as an insane person, and in 
 doing so she happened to go to the country where her son was 
 witli the Vizier. She saw there some fakirs, dervishes, with other 
 destitute classes of persons, going in crowds to a public treat 
 which was to be giveu by the Vizier. She inquired of her 
 fellow-travellers on what account the dinner was to be given. 
 They informed her that the Vizier had a handsome boy, and 
 as his marriage overtures were completed, the feast was inten- 
 ded in honour of the occasion. The poor woman, hearing of 
 this, had strong secret presentment that the lad might be 
 no other than her long lost son for whom she was grieving ; so 
 she ventured to follow the tide of the crowd with the anxious 
 expectation of seeing the dear child by some propitious accident, 
 and that she might by that means ascertain if he were her son for 
 whom she was mourning so long in utter despondence. When 
 she had taken a quiet seat at a distance from the residence 
 of the Vizier, the boy, all life and hilarity, came out skipping 
 and playing with other young persons of his own age. The 
 moment that her eyes, in their searching glance, alighted on 
 him, she discovered him to be her own son. Unable to



 
 ( 20G ) 
 
 suppress her maternal feelings and her emotions, she ran 
 with tears and sobs, and embracing, kissed him fervently, 
 saying that he was her own lost child. This turmoil and bustle 
 which had collected a number of idle spectators, soon reached 
 the acute ear of the Yizier, who suspecting the cause, 
 and fearing the result, instructed the four ruffians, who 
 aided him in the capture of the boy, to convey the mad woman 
 away from the place to some distant field, where they might 
 strangle her, and put her out of the reach of mischief ; but 
 the youth, who was at that time within audible distance from 
 the Yizier, concealed by a cloth partition, heariug his cruel 
 request to the men, met them as they were about to go forth 
 on their errand, and threatened to bring them to punishment 
 if they ever dared to imbue their hands in the blood of the poor 
 innocent creature, being, as he was, in possession of the secret 
 of their conspiracy. If they liked, they might conduct her to 
 a distance from the country, where she might be left with a 
 menace never to approach the place where the Vizier was, for 
 in fact, she was guilty of no actual crime. He hastened also 
 to have an interview with the woman ; he remonstrated against 
 her imprudence for calling him her son, for a person like the 
 Vizier, he added, whose influence was considerable, and whose 
 authority extensive, had it in his power to inflict severe 
 punishment. He warned her not to come to the country again 
 if she valued her life. " You are my own son, how can I live 
 without seeing you ?" she said " let me rather die than be 
 prevented from beholding what to me is more than life." She 
 was taken away, however, and set at liberty in a field, at a 
 considerable distance from the Vizier's locality, but she did not 
 quit the country, and remained at the adjacent village, where 
 she made daily minute inquiries where the school was to which 
 the Vizier's son went to receive instruction, at what hour he 
 left home, and the way by which he went there. Having 
 ascertained these particulars, she went and seated herself 
 patiently on the road by which the youngster was expected 
 to return from the school.



 
 ( 207 ) 
 
 As the Vizier's son was going home iu a palkee, his sight 
 fell oil the womau. After passing her a short distance, he 
 stopped, and going up to her, remonstrated against her being 
 seen in the country, and the danger to which she was ex- 
 posing herself indiscreetly. She wept, and told him how diffi- 
 cult it was for her to part from him, having found him after 
 the lapse of so many years. " Enquire, my son," she said 
 " of the midwife who attended on me at your confinement, and 
 who is living in this very country, and she will corroborate the 
 fact and satisfy you if you are my child or not." 
 
 The Vizier's son, hearing all this, returned to his abode with 
 a head full of musings and a heavy heart. He could neither 
 relish his dinner, nor take any pleasure iu his usual recreations, 
 until the mystery was solved to his own satisfaction. Going 
 one day for a walk, he took his course towards the house of the 
 midwife, from whom he learnt whose sou he was, and the inci- 
 dents of his past life. He became dissatisfied with his situation 
 at the Vizier's, having learnt by what means his poor mother 
 had been deprived of her child. He had a private interview 
 the next day with her, and advised her to institute a suit against 
 the Vizier in the durbar of the Badsha. She adopted his ad- 
 vice, but found many obstacles, and met with strong opposition 
 at Court, where the influence of the Vizier was considerable. 
 The poor woman was about to be driven out of the durbar, with 
 hisses and ridicule cast on her statements and for making invidious 
 charges against the man of rank and position. She could find 
 no sympathy from people whose sentiments were biassed in favour 
 of the man of wealth, but met rather with laughter and derision. 
 The youngster, making his appearance at the Court when the wo- 
 man was being dismissed, spoke to the Badsha without the least 
 trepidation " Great Bads/id ! you are considered to be the 
 father of your subjects. Your government is established in 
 the affection of your people by the impartial administration 
 of justice, and the exercise of equitable laws. Can you send 
 this poor woman away without investigating her case, and



 
 ( 208 ) 
 
 not incurring the reproach of foreign Princes, and the Chiefs, 
 your neighbours, or exciting no discontent among your own sub- 
 jects, who possess common sense and a perception of right and 
 wrong. Try her case, good Badsha ! and if it should prove that 
 her allegations are false, punish rather than set a deceitful 
 person at liberty ; but do not, I beseech you, let a woman, 
 because poor, go away without receiving redress, nor let 
 the innocent suffer wrong and injustice at the hands of a 
 man who is surrounded with power, and screened by his sta- 
 tion from punishment, while he continues unchecked in the perpe- 
 tration of deeds of atrocity." After this public appeal was 
 made to his justice, the Badsha was obliged to give a hearing 
 to her complaint. The midwife gave her deposition at the 
 durbar, and the poor woman substantiated her claim by produc- 
 ing the Mulna as witness, in whose ground she was residing 
 at the time of her confinement, and from whence she lost her 
 offspring in so tragical a manner ; nor could the Vizier give a 
 satisfactory explanation how he had obtained possession of the 
 boy. The weight of these combined evidences inclined the 
 balance of justice in her favour, and so the case was decided to her 
 entire satisfaction. The son, to show that he was not unmindful 
 of the favour and kindness he had received from the Vizier, inter- 
 ceded for him with the Badsha with tears and a glowing elo- 
 quence, and on his account the Vizier was taken back into 
 favour. The son was soon locked in the arms of his fond mother. 
 They left the country together, and proceeded to the place 
 where his father, the merchant, was expected to return from 
 his protracted journey. They arrived at their own residence 
 one evening. The meeting of the merchant with his wife and 
 son was, though joyous, not unmixed with bitter regret on 
 account of the many sad events which had transpired. Now 
 that the mother-in-law, who was the cause of the wife's 
 sufferings, was dead, the past was buried in oblivion. As a 
 good, faithful, and prudent wife, she forbore to reproach him with 
 the faults, not of his heart but his judgment. Having passed



 
 ( 209 ) 
 
 through the billows of tribulation, obtained her long lost child, 
 and restored to the society of her husband for whom she had a 
 .deep and sincere regard, she, like a wise woman, studied to 
 forget her sufferings, and to make the best use of the blessings 
 with which she was now surrounded ; and with this nice sense 
 of propriety, she endeavoured to dissipate the gloom, which at 
 times flitted over the life of her husband, when memory held 
 to his view the remorseful picture of the past. 
 
 HE THAT DIGGETH A PIT FOR ANOTHER, 
 FALLETH INTO IT HIMSELF. 
 
 HEBE was a Rajah who had a very valuable flower tree 
 in his garden. He ordered his gardener not to permit 
 anybody to pluck a single leaf, or to stand holding one of its 
 branches, and to secure this object, he ordered a sentry to watch 
 the tree, with power to shoot the culprit who violated his 
 order. 
 
 It so happened, that a poor simple youth had strolled into 
 the garden unperceived by the guard, and holding one of the 
 branches of the interdicted tree, stood looking admiringly at 
 the gorgeous flowers, and inhaling their redolent fragrance. 
 The guard, approaching the youth, told him of the offence of 
 which he was guilty, beat him soundly, and sent him away. 
 The reason why he did not unscrupulously destroy his life was, 
 that he was a simpleton, and that he did it from sheer ignorance. 
 The youngster, smarting under the infliction, and hearing the 
 relation of his offence which appeared to him very preposterous, 
 exclaimed, " Ah! what wonderful tree is that for which there 
 are such curious restrictions. I know a tree of incalculable 
 value, called assnce tree, with munca leaf, which bears pearls 
 and yields coral, and on whose branches lacs of birds roost at 
 27



 
 ( 210 ) 
 
 night, while the shadow of the tree falls over a circumference 
 of eighty miles." The sentry, hearing this bold expression of 
 the youth, caugh,t and took him before the Eajah, He was 
 interrogated regarding the tree. The youth related its virtues 
 and wonderful properties, when the Badsha asked him to 
 produce it. 
 
 The youth, having obtained three months' leave to find the 
 tree, went on in his journey not knowing exactly whither. He 
 came at last to the border of a jungle, entering which he saw a 
 joghee, behind whom he went and stood in breathless silence. 
 The religious mendicant, knowing that some one was stand- 
 ing behind, requested him to come before. In doing as the 
 youngster was bid, he saluted the joghee with the conciliatory 
 appellation of father. The joghee observed, " If you have come 
 to serve me, my son, go and fill yonder pipe with gunjah" 
 The youth did as he was requested. The joghee, enjoying his 
 intoxicating pipe, waited the arrival of certain devotees who 
 brought him every morning and evening a variety of edibles as 
 offerings to be presented by him to the rural deities. After 
 accepting these offerings, and going through the religious cere- 
 monies, he gave the men back half of what they brought, and 
 retained the residue for his own use. The youth shared daily 
 with the joghee in the refreshments thus brought for their sus- 
 tenance. 
 
 Living in this manner for some time, Ihe joghee found the 
 youth one day rather moody, and inquired the reason of his 
 abstraction. The youth disclosed to him the reason of his visit 
 to the jungle. The joghee advised him to travel in a certain 
 direction of the forest, where he would come in sight of a tank, 
 near the verge of which he would discover a bushy tree, climb- 
 ing it he should remain concealed until he saw some one going 
 to bathe in the tank. The youth did as he was advised. He 
 saw three seraphic visitants from his concealment on the tree. 
 Coming near they divested themselves of their outer bright 
 garments, and went down to enjoy the refreshing liquid of the



 
 ( 211 ) 
 
 tank. While they were sporting in the pellucid water, the 
 youth took up and concealed their garments. The celestial 
 beings, coming up to dress themselves, and not finding their 
 garments, were placed in a sad state of perplexity. They 
 called out to any one who might have taken to restore them 
 the articles, and that they were willing to accede to any 
 terms, or requests which might be made for their restoration. 
 The youth, in giving up the things, stipulated that they 
 should consent to marry him. They were compelled to yield, 
 but they intended to defeat his object by some of their many arti- 
 fices. The eldest of the three sisters presented herself on the 
 day fixed for the solemnization of marriage, in the revolting 
 condition of a female covered all over with unsightly sores and 
 ulcers. The joghee, who was deeply versed in the occult sciences, 
 and who had a familiar knowledge of all things, perceiving the 
 manoeuvre that was about to be practised upon his protege, 
 winked at the youth not to evince any hesitation, or decline 
 the marriage, but to accept her hand cheerfully and cordially. 
 Having succeeded in gaining the hand of the eldest of the 
 celestial purrees, her two younger sisters were easily subdued to 
 his wishes. Taking his three wives to the country of his birth, 
 he resided in their happy company, forgetful in the witchery of 
 their charming conversation, of his engagement with the Badsha. 
 One day, when his wives' nails had grown beyond a decent 
 length, and they had expressed a desire to have them pared, 
 the barber who was sent for to execute the office, happened to 
 be the Rajah's hair-dresser. "When the first wife submitted her 
 hand through the folds of a flowing drapery that answered the 
 purpose of a screen, it was a sight of such dazzling beauty to the 
 barber that he sank motionless to the floor. When the two other 
 sisters presented their hands in their turn, it had the same effect on 
 him. When on the following morning the barber was visiting 
 the Rajah, he told him, in the glowing language of admiration 
 and wonder, that he saw the hands of three very extraordinary 
 beauties living with the plain poor youth who was under



 
 ( 212 ) 
 
 engagement to the Rajah to produce a very rare tree. The 
 barber strongly urged the Rajah to destroy the worthless fellow, 
 as he had not yet executed his commission, and to take two of 
 his wives to himself, and to make him a present of the third. 
 The Rajah informed him that the time appointed for accom- 
 plishing his promise was not up yet, and therefore to go and 
 remind him of the tree. This the barber did with alacrity. 
 Three days, however, before his contract with the Rajah would 
 have terminated, the youth became sad and thoughtful, and in 
 that depressed predicament showed little dispositon for the 
 enjoyments of the table. One of the purrees, with winning 
 and persuasive manners, extracted from him the reason of his 
 dejection. He related to her all about the Rajah's famous tree, 
 the rules which he had laid down for its preservation, and the 
 stripes which he had endured on account of unwittingly violating 
 his injunction, adding that, in his vexation and suffering, he 
 had uttered the name of a tree of which he had not the remotest 
 idea if it existed any where in the whole universe, and that it 
 was this folly for which he was regretting and repining. 
 The purree requested him to cheer up his spirits, saying that 
 the thing was of easy accomplishment. " Gro," she said, " and 
 tell the Rajah to make a covered path from our residence to the 
 plain before his palace, and to encircle the field with a wall of 
 cloth and a canopy on the top, covering an area of eighty miles, 
 when the tree will be produced and exhibited before the Bad- 
 shn, his subjects, and such friends as he may wish to invite to 
 the wonderful show." 
 
 The preparation being got ready with all expedition, and all 
 the guests invited to the exhibition from neighbouring countries, 
 the eldest purree went to the plain through the covered passage, 
 stood at the centre of the field, and there shook her luxuriant 
 raven tresses loose from their graceful confinement. In a 
 moment she sprouted forth to the full dimensions of a magni- 
 ficent tree, her hair forming leaves of gorgeous loveliness, 
 while the entire form and outline was of exquisite beauty. All



 
 ( 213 ) 
 
 stood at first gazing at it with mute attention, wrapt up with 
 thoughts of wondering admiration, and then burst forth into 
 loud and exultant praise at such an uncommon sight. 
 
 The poor youth was heartily glad to have escaped from a 
 dilemma into which his imprudence had thrown him, but the 
 envious barber would not let him alone. He went to the 
 Rujah, and again urged him to destroy the young man, take 
 two of his wives, and bestow on him the third as a gift for his 
 protracted faithful services. The Rajah told him that he 
 could not do him an injustice. The barber advised him to send 
 for the youth, order him to put out all the mustard seed from 
 his godown, for the purpose of drying and airing in the sun, 
 and after that to gather the whole, and store the seed in the 
 same place by the evening, taking care that there should not 
 be the smallest deficiency in the quantity, or delay in its ex- 
 ecution, for in that case he should be beheaded. The command 
 of the Rajah was speedily communicated by the officious barber 
 to the youth. On receiving this unpleasant order, he was made 
 thoughtful and reflective, not only on account of the arduous 
 nature of the task imposed, but justly conjecturing that such a 
 novel and whimsical injunction foreboded no good, but appeared 
 rather to be a snare by which to entangle him. The second 
 purree was made acquainted by him with this other secret grief 
 which was rankling in his bosom. She recommended his 
 banishing all apprehension from his mind, to go to work with 
 alacrity, and after the mustard seed had been spread out, dried, 
 and aired in the sun, according to his instructions, to tell her 
 then, and she would send somebody to gather the seed into the 
 barn without the loss of a single grain. She possessed some 
 secret power and influence over all tribes and classes of pigeons ; 
 she, therefore, by supernatural means, commanded a large flock 
 to appear. They came before her in dark clouds, and waited 
 submissively to hear her commands. They were desired to 
 go with all expedition and gather every particle of mustard 
 grain which was drying in the sun, into the godown of the Rajah



 
 ( 214 ) 
 
 before sunset, and to take good care that not a single grain was 
 lost in performing the work. This was executed with celerity, 
 and the necessary care and attention which it needed. 
 
 The wicked barber, in the performance of his office on the fol- 
 lowing day, was informed by the Rajah that the youth could 
 not be entrapped. The baffled barber sbt his diabolical genius 
 to cogitate on some other plan to ensnare the youth, and before 
 the day had closed, he presented himself before his royal em- 
 ployer with sinister advice, from which he deemed there would 
 be small chance for the youngster to extricate himself. " May 
 it please your highness," said the barber, " to command the 
 youth to pay a visit to your honored parents in paradise, and 
 to bring news from thence how the venerable couple are doing 
 there." The youth was sent for, and the wishes of his sove- 
 reign was communicated. He was sore puzzled to know by 
 what means a journey to heaven could be accomplished, but the 
 barber, who was present at the conference, enlightened him on 
 the subject, by informing him that the journey was to be per- 
 formed after the same manner as it was done by a Suttee. The 
 youth went home with a drooping head, and dejected counten- 
 ance, and overwhelmed with fearful forebodings. His third 
 wife, ascertaining the cause of his altered mood, told him to 
 entertain no fear, for that she had the means in her power to 
 preserve him from the destruction his enemies were aiming to 
 execute. While the Kajah had ordered a funeral pyre of the 
 scented sandal wood to be erected, and the wood was being 
 piled for the morrow's immolation, the purree, who presided 
 over all rats as their sovereign, invited them to appear before 
 her, and they came tumbling, scratching, and crowding in large 
 herds. She commanded all of them to start off immediately, 
 and commence an excavation from her residence to the spot over 
 which the pyre was being erected, taking care that the whole 
 operation should terminate within the night. The youngster 
 was advised how to act on the occasion, when the Rajah's 
 officers came to take him away on the following morning. He



 
 ( 215 ) 
 
 mounted the logs of wood amidst the deafening roar of drums 
 and other equally discordant instruments, and the cheer- 
 ing shouts of the spectators ; but as soon as the pile was 
 lighted, and the smoke had risen from the bottom and en- 
 shrouded him, he turned over and dropped into the excavation 
 which led him on to the room of his own residence. The barber 
 was highly gratified at the destruction of the youth, and the 
 success of his treacherous scheme. 
 
 He took an early opportunity to visit the Rajah, and to 
 remind him now that the fellow was despatched to the shades 
 below, to take two of his incomparable wives to himself, and 
 make him a royal present of the third. The Rajah reminded 
 him that the stipulated time for his return, which was the fourth 
 day, was not yet expired, and on that account, that he could 
 not so soon set about making a division of his wives. On the 
 morning of the fourth day, as the youth was proceeding from 
 his house to the palace, such men as had been spectators of his 
 immolation, seeing him resuscitated, ran away from him with 
 fear. The Rajah, with whom was his flatterer, the barber, seeing 
 the youth approaching, fell senseless on the floor, not knowing if 
 he were a spirit, or the same person in his corporeal appearance. 
 So soon as the Rajah revived, the youth, saluting him, said, that 
 he had much pleasure in seeing his worthy parents ; they were 
 doing very well, except that his father's beard had grown in- 
 conveniently bushy, and his mother's nails had become too long, 
 and that he was delegated to convey the wishes of his respected 
 parents to him, which was to send them their old servant, the 
 barber, to cut his hair, and to pare her nails. The Rajah, in 
 the presence of his full Court, compelled the barber to pay a 
 visit to his father, as it was, he observed, their united, urgent, 
 and particular wish that he should be sent. The cursing and 
 swearing, and debasing humiliations of the barber, could not 
 avert his fate. He was forced to fall into the snare which he 
 had thrice laid to destroy a harmless innocent person. He was 
 burnt on the pyre the next day to be a warning to those who 
 read his story.



 
 A PARODY ON THE CASHMERIAN GIRL. 
 
 With Soorma tinge thy black eyes fringe. 
 
 L. V. DEROZIO. 
 
 |TjV ET thy eye's soft blue, shine on my view, 
 (^3 That will gladden oft my weary day ; 
 Let virtue dress each modest tress, 
 And Lena love shall be my lay. 
 
 Lena ! there's many a glitt'ring gem, 
 Which the dark caves of ocean bind, 
 But none, thou. dear, and sainted maid, 
 none like thee I e'er shall find ! 
 
 In Seraz walks many tints may glow, 
 Which many men may fondly seek ; 
 But who can find, so rare a kind, 
 Like that which shades thy brow so meek ? 
 
 By thy side to walk, with holy talk, 
 Pleasant the earth would be to me ; 
 Thy chasten'd look, calm as the brook, 
 Would bid the clouds of sorrow flee. 
 
 Nay, smile in love, for thou shouldst smile, 
 Though the fair world be not our home ; 
 Our hopes are bright, and the future light, 
 Illumes our path where'er we roam.



 
 ( 217 ) 
 
 That light my love, is from above, 
 No sad'ning darkness we shall know ; 
 That ray was deigu'd, with love unfeign'd, 
 Our hearts to gladden with its glow. 
 
 The worldly life is full of strife, 
 And all its scenes below are sad ; 
 Then I would haste, with my angel guest, 
 To that fair world where all are glad. 
 
 No shades of gloom, would be our doom, 
 In that love's ocean depths above, 
 Where the fair field, would ever yield, 
 Spontan'ous joy and lasting love. 
 
 In that verdant shore, where evermore, 
 No sorrow's tears would dare to fiVw ; 
 There we would live, no more to grieve, 
 Our hearts circl'd with a holy glow- 
 Then come on love, we'll wing like dove, 
 And mount up to that region of peace ; 
 We will there dwell, leaving this dark vale, 
 With bright seraphs in endless bliss.



 
 ( 218 
 
 THE TEARS OF SYMPATHY- 
 
 An imitation of " The Liquid Gem," adapted to the same air. 
 
 flNY drops of sparkling dew, 
 Changeful in thy lovely hue ; 
 Nature's shrine and earthly bower, 
 Cradles thee midst morning flower. 
 But the liquid gems that shine, 
 Ever truthful and divine, 
 Are the holy tears that lie, 
 Deep in hearts that ever sigh. 
 
 Tiny drops &c. 
 
 Humid orbs of heavenly love, 
 Born of feelings from above ; 
 Priceless pearls from holier mine, 
 Glisten sweet o'er human shrine. 
 Pour thy soft'ning soothing ray, 
 O'er hearts that weep and fade away ; 
 Thou soft gem of lasting light, 
 Shed thy rays o'er life's dark night. 
 
 Humid orbs &o.









 
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 001 430 339



 
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233