Now the jackal got hold of the boys again. And this time she killed them, and cooked them and ate them; and again God brought them to life. Well, the jackal was very much astonished to see the boys alive, and she got angry, and said to the kite, "I will take your seven sons and throw them into the water, and they will be drowned." "Very well," said the kite, "take them. I don't mind. God will take care of them." The jackal took them and threw them into the water, and left them to die, while the kite looked on without crying. And again God made them alive, and the jackal was so surprised. "Why," said she, "I put these children into the water, and left them to drown. And here they are alive!" Then God got very angry with the jackal, and said to her, "Go out of this village. And wherever you go, men will try to shoot you, and you shall always be afraid of them." So the jackal had to go away; and the kite and her children lived very happily ever afterwards.

Told by Dunkni.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

VI.

THE VORACIOUS FROG.

There were a rat and a frog. And the rat said to the frog, "Go and get me some sticks, while I go and get some flour and milk." So the frog went out far into the jungle and brought home plenty of sticks, and the rat went out and brought home flour and milk for their dinner. Then she cooked the dinner, and when it was cooked she said to the frog, "Now, you sit here while I go to bathe, and take care of the food so that no one may come and eat it up." Then the rat went to take her bath, and as soon as she had gone the frog made haste and ate up the dinner quickly, and went away.

When the rat came back she found no dinner, and she could not find the frog. So she went out to look for him, calling to him as loudly as she could, and she saw him in the distance, and overtook him. "Why have you eaten my dinner? Why did you go away?" said the rat. Said the frog, "Oh, dear! it was not I that ate your dinner, but a huge dog that came; and I was only a tiny, tiny thing, and he was a great big dog, and so he frightened me, and I ran away." "Very well," said the rat; "go and fetch me more sticks while I go for flour and milk." So the frog went out far into the jungle and brought back plenty of sticks. And the rat went to fetch flour and milk. Then she lit the fire and cooked the dinner, and told the frog to take care of the dinner while she went to bathe. As soon as she had gone, the frog ate up all the dinner, and went away and hid himself. When the rat came back she saw no frog, no dinner. She went away into the jungle and called to him, and the frog answered from behind a tree, "Here I am, here I am." The rat went to him and said, "Why did you eat my dinner?" "I didn't," said the frog. "It was a great big dog ate the dinner, and he wanted to eat me too, and so I ran away." The rat said, "Very well. Go and fetch me some more sticks, and I will go for flour and milk." Then she cooked the dinner again and went to bathe. The frog ate up all the dinner, and went away and hid himself. When the rat returned she saw no dinner, no frog. So she went far into the jungle, found the frog, and told him that it was he that had eaten the dinner. And the frog said, "No," and the rat said, "Yes." And the frog said, "If you say that again, I will eat you up." "All right," says the rat, "eat me up." So he ate her up and sat behind a tree, and the baker came past. The frog called out, "Baker, come here! come here! Give me some bread." The baker looked about everywhere, could not see anybody, could not think who was calling him. At last he saw the frog sitting behind a tree. "Give me some bread," says the frog. The man said, "No, I won't give you any bread. I am a great big man, and you are only a little frog, and you have no money." "Yes, I have money. I will give you some pice, and you will give me some bread." But the man said, "No, I won't." "Well," said the frog, "if you won't give me bread, I will eat you up first, and then I will eat up your bread." So he ate up the man, and then ate up his bread. Presently a man with oranges and lemons passed by. The frog called to him, "Come here! come here!" The man was very much afraid. He didn't know who had called him. Then he saw the frog, and the frog said, "Give me some lemons." The man wouldn't, and said, "No." "Very well," says the frog, "if you won't, I'll eat you up." So he ate up the man with his lemons and oranges. Presently a horse and his groom went by. The frog says, "Please give me a ride, and I will give you some money." "No," said the horse, "I won't let you ride on me. You are like a monkey,—very little—I won't let you ride on my back." The frog said, "If you won't, I'll eat you up." Then the frog ate him up, and his groom too. Then a barber passed by. "Come and shave me," says the frog. "Good," says the barber, "I'll come and shave you." So he shaved him, and he thought the frog looked very fat, and so as he was shaving him he suddenly made a cut in his stomach. Out jumped the rat with her flour and milk—the baker with his bread—the lemon-seller with his oranges and lemons—the horse and his groom. And the barber ran away home. And the frog died.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

VII.

THE STORY OF FOOLISH SACHULI.

There once lived a poor old widow woman named Hungni, who had a little idiot son called Sachuli. She used to beg every day. One day when the son had grown up, he said to his mother. "What makes women laugh?" "If you throw a tiny stone at them," answered she, "they will laugh." So one day Sachuli went and sat by a well, and three women came to it to fill their water-jars. "Now," said Sachuli "I will make one of these women laugh." Two of the women filled their water-jars and went away home, and he threw no stones at them; but as the last, who also had on the most jewels, passed him, he threw a great big stone at her, and she fell down dead, with her mouth set as if she were smiling. "Oh, look! look! how she is laughing!" said Sachuli, and he ran off to call his mother.

"Come, come, mother," said he, "and see how I have made this woman laugh."

His mother came, and when she saw the woman lying dead, she was much frightened, for the dead woman belonged to a great and very rich family, and she wore jewels worth a thousand rupees. Hungni took off all her jewels, and threw her body into the well.

After some days the dead woman's father and mother and all her people sent round a crier with a drum to try and find her. "Whoever brings back a young woman who wears a great many gold necklaces and bracelets and rings shall get a great deal of money," cried the crier. Sachuli heard him. "I know where she is," said he. "My mother took off all her jewels, and threw her into the well."

The crier said, "Can you go down into the well and bring her up?"

"If you will tie a rope round my waist and let me down the well, I shall be able to bring her up."

So they set off towards the well, which was near Hungni's house; and when she saw them coming, she guessed what they came for, and she ran out and killed a sheep, threw it into the well, and took out the dead woman and hid her.

The crier got some men to come with him, and they let Sachuli down the well. "Has she got eyes?" said Sachuli. "Of course, every one has eyes," answered the men. "Has she a nose?" asked Sachuli. "Yes, she has a nose," said the men. "Has she got a mouth?" asked Sachuli. "Yes," said the men. "Has she a long face?"

"What does he mean?" said the men, who were getting cross. "No one has a long face; perhaps she has, though. Yes, she has a long face," cried the men.

"Has she a tail?"

"A tail! Why no one has a tail. Perhaps, though, she has long hair. No doubt that is what he calls a tail. Yes, she has a tail."

"Has she ears?"

"Of course, every one has ears."

"Has she four feet?"

"Four feet!" said the men. "Why, no one has four feet. Perhaps you call her hands feet. Yes, she has four feet. Bring her up quickly."

Then Sachuli brought up the sheep.

The men were very angry when they saw the sheep, and they beat Sachuli, and called him a very stupid fellow and a great liar, and they went away feeling very cross.

Sachuli went home to his mother, who, as soon as she saw him coming, ran out and put the woman's body back in the well, and when he got home she beat him. "Mother," said he, "give me some bread, and I will go away and die." His mother cooked him some bread, and he went away.

He walked on, and on, and on, a long way.

Now, some Raja's ten camels had been travelling along the road on which Sachuli went, each carrying sacks of gold mohurs and rupees, and one of these camels broke loose from the string and strayed away, and the camel-drivers could not find it again. But Sachuli met it, and caught it and took it home.

"See, mother! see what a quantity of money I have brought you!" cried Sachuli. Hungni rushed out, and was delighted to see so much money. She took off the sacks at once and sent the camel away. Then she hid the rupees and the gold with the jewels she had taken from the dead woman. And, as she was a cunning woman, she went and bought a great many comfits and scattered them all about her house, when Sachuli was out of the way. "Oh, look! look!" cried Sachuli, "at all these comfits." "God has rained them from heaven," said his mother. Sachuli began to pick them up and eat them, and he told all the people in the village how God had rained down comfits from heaven on his mother's house. "What nonsense!" cried they. "Yes, he has," said Sachuli, "and I have been eating them." "No comfits have fallen on our houses," said they. "Yes, yes," cried he, "the day my mother got all those rupees, God rained comfits on our house." "What lies!" cried the people; "as if it ever rained comfits. Why did not the comfits rain down on our houses? Why did they fall only on your house? And what's all this about rupees?" And then they came to see if there were any rupees or comfits in Hungni's house, and they found none at all, for Hungni had hidden the rupees and thrown away the comfits. "There," said they to Sachuli, "where are your rupees? where are your comfits? What a liar you are! as if it ever rained comfits. How can you tell such stories?" And they beat him. "But it did rain comfits," said Sachuli, "for I ate them. It rained comfits the day my mother got the rupees."

Now the Raja who had lost his camel sent round the crier with his drum to find his camel and his money-bags. "Whoever has found a camel carrying money-bags and brings it and the money back to the Raja, will get a great many rupees," cried the crier. "Oh!" says Sachuli, "I know where the money is. One day I went out and I found a stray camel, and he had sacks of rupees on his back, and I took him home to my mother, and she took the sacks off his back and sent the camel away." So the crier went to find the rupees, and the people in the bazar went with him. But Hungni had hidden the rupees so carefully that, though they hunted all over her house, they could find none, and they beat Sachuli, and told him he was a liar. "I am not telling lies," said Sachuli. "My mother took the rupees the day it rained comfits on our house." So they beat him again, and they went away. Then Hungni beat Sachuli, and said, "What a bad boy you are! trying to get me beaten and put into prison, telling every one about the rupees. Go away; I don't want you any more, such a bad boy as you are! go away and die." He said, "Very well, mother; give me some bread, and I'll go."

Sachuli set off and took an axe with him. "How shall I kill myself?" said he. So he climbed up a tree and sat out on a long branch, and began cutting off the branch between himself and the tree on which he was sitting. "What are you doing up there?" said a man who came by. "You'll die if you cut that branch off." "What do you say?" cries Sachuli, jumping down on the man, and seizing his hand. "When shall I die?" "How can I tell? Let me go." "I won't let you go till you tell me when I shall die." And at last the man said, "When you find a scarlet thread on your jacket, then you will die."

Sachuli went off to the bazar, and sat down by some tailors, and one of the tailors, in throwing away their shreds of cloth, threw a scarlet thread on Sachuli's coat. "Oh," said Sachuli, when he saw the thread, "now I shall die!" "How do you know that?" said the tailors. "A man told me that when I found a scarlet thread on my jacket, I should die," said Sachuli; and the tailors all laughed at him and made fun of him, but he went off into the jungle and dug his grave with his axe, and lay down in it. In the night a sepoy came by with a large jar of ghee on his head. "How heavy this jar is," said the sepoy. "Is there no cooly that will come and carry my ghee home for me? I would give him four pice for his trouble." Up jumped Sachuli out of his grave. "I'll carry it for you," said he. "Who are you?" said the sepoy, much frightened. "Oh, I am a man who is dead," said Sachuli, "and I am tired of lying here. I can't lie here any more." "Well," said the sepoy, very much frightened, "you may carry my ghee." So Sachuli put the jar on his head, and he went on, with the sepoy following. "Now," said Sachuli, "with these four pice I will buy a hen, and I will sell the hen and her eggs, and with the money I get for them I will buy a goat; and then I will sell the goat and her milk and her hide and buy a cow, and I will sell her milk; and then I will marry a wife, and then I shall have some children, and they will say to me, 'Father, will you have some rice?' and I will say, 'No, I won't have any rice.'" And as he said, "No, I won't have any rice," he shook his head, and down came the jar of ghee, and the jar was smashed, and the ghee spilled. "Oh, dear! what have you done?" cried the sepoy. "Why did you shake your head?" "Because my children asked me to have some rice, and I did not want any, so I shook my head," said Sachuli. "Oh," said the sepoy, "he is an utter idiot." And the sepoy went home, and Sachuli went back to his mother. "Why have you come back?" said she. "I have been dead twelve years," said Sachuli. "What lies you tell!" said she. "You have only been away a few days. Be off! I don't want any liars here."

Sachuli asked her to give him two flour-cakes, which she did, and he went off to the jungle, and it was night. Five fairies lived in this jungle, and as Sachuli went along, he broke his flour-cakes into five pieces, and said, "Now I'll eat one, then the second, then the third, then the fourth, and then the fifth." And the fairies heard him and were afraid, and said to each other, "What shall we do? Here is this man, and he is going to eat us all up. What shall we do to save ourselves? We will give him something." So they went out all five, and said to Sachuli, "If only you won't eat us, we will give you a present." Now Sachuli did not know there were fairies in this jungle. "What will you give me?" said Sachuli. "We will give you a cooking-pot. When you want anything to eat, all you have to do is to ask the pot for it, and you will get it." Sachuli took the pot and went off to the bazar. He stopped at a cook-shop, and asked for some pilau. "Pilau? There's no pilau here," said the shopman. "Well," said Sachuli, "I have a cooking-pot here, and I have only to ask it for any dish I want, and I get it at once." "What nonsense!" said the man. "Just see," said Sachuli; and he said to the cooking-pot, "I want some pilau," and immediately the pot was full of pilau, and all the people in the shop set to work to help him to eat it up, it was so good. "Oh," thought the cook, "I must have that pot," so he gave Sachuli a sleepy drink. Then Sachuli went to sleep, and while he slept the cook stole the fairy cooking-pot, and put a common cooking-pot in its place. Sachuli went home with the cook's pot, and said, "Mother, I have brought home a cooking-pot. If you ask it for any food you want, you will get it." "Nonsense," said Hungni; "what lies you are telling!" "It is quite true, mother; only see," and he asked the pot for different dishes, but none came. Hungni was furious. "Go away," she said. "Why do you come back to me? I want no liars here." "Give me five flour-cakes and I will go," said her son. So she baked the bread for him, and he set off for the jungle where he had met the five fairies, and as he went along he said, "I will eat one, and I will eat two, and I will eat three, and I will eat four, and I will eat five." The five fairies heard him, and were terrified. "Here is this bad man again," said they, "and he will eat us all five. Oh, what shall we do? Let us give him a present." So they went to Sachuli, and said, "Here is a box for you. Whenever you want any clothes you have only to tell this box, and it will give them to you; take it, and don't eat us." So he took the box and went to the bazar, and he stopped at the cook-shop again, and asked the cook for a red silk dress, and a pair of long black silk trousers, and a blue silk turban, and a pair of red shoes, and the cook laughed and asked how he should have such beautiful things. "Well," said Sachuli, "here is a box; when I ask it for the dress and trousers, and turban and shoes, I shall get them." So the cook laughed at him. "Just see," said Sachuli, and he said, "Box, give me a red silk dress and a pair of long black silk trousers, and a blue silk turban, and red shoes," and there they were at once. And the cook was delighted, and said to himself, "I will have that box," and he gave Sachuli a good dinner and a sleepy drink, and Sachuli fell fast asleep. While he slept the cook came and stole the fairy box, and put a common box in its place. In the morning Sachuli went home to his mother and said, "Mother, I've brought you a box. You have only to ask it for any clothes you may want, and you will get them." "Nonsense," said his mother, "don't tell me such lies." "Only see, mother; I am telling you truth," said he. He asked the box for coats and all sorts of things—no; he got nothing. His mother was very angry, and said, "You liar! you naughty boy! Go away and don't come back any more." And she broke the box to pieces, and threw the bits away. "Well, mother, bake me some flour-cakes." So she baked him the cakes and gave them to him, and sent him away. He went off to the fairies' jungle, and as he went he said, "Now I'll eat one, then two, then three, then four, then five." The five fairies were very frightened. "Here is this man come back to eat us all five. Let us give him a present." So they went to him and gave him a rope and stick, and said, "Only say to this rope, 'Bind that man,' and he will be tied up at once; and to this stick, 'Beat that man,' and the stick will beat him." Sachuli was very glad to get these things, for he guessed what had happened to his cooking-pot and box. So he went to the bazar, and at the cook-shop he said, "Rope, bind all these men that are here!" and the cook and every one in the shop were tied up instantly. Then Sachuli said, "Stick, beat these men!" and the stick began to beat them. "Oh, stop, stop beating us, and untie, and I'll give you your pot and your box!" cried the cook. "No, I won't stop beating you, and I won't untie you till I have my pot and my box." And the cook gave them both to him, and he untied the rope. Then Sachuli went home, and when his mother saw him, she was very angry, but he showed her the box and the cooking-pot, and she saw he had told her the truth. So she sent for the doctor, and he declared Sachuli was wise and not silly, and he and Hungni found a wife for Sachuli, and made a grand wedding for him, and they lived happily ever after.

Told by Dunkni.



[Decoration]

VIII.

BARBER HIM AND THE TIGERS.

Once there lived a barber called Him, who was very poor indeed. He had a wife and twelve children, five boys and seven girls: now and then he got a few pice. One day he went away from his home feeling very cross, and left his wife and children to get on as best they could. "What can I do?" said he. "I have not enough money to buy food for my family, and they are crying for it." And so he walked on till he came to a jungle. It was night when he got there. This jungle was called the "tigers' jungle," because only tigers lived in it; no birds, no insects, no other animals, and there were four hundred tigers in it altogether. As soon as Barber Him reached the jungle he saw a great tiger walking about. "What shall I do?" cried he. "This tiger is sure to eat me." And he took his razor and his razor-strap, and began to sharpen his razor. Then he went close up to the tiger, still sharpening his razor. The tiger was much frightened. "What shall I do?" said the tiger; "this man will certainly gash me." "I have come," said the barber, "to catch twenty tigers by order of Maharaja Kans. You are one, and I want nineteen more." The tiger, greatly alarmed, answered, "If you won't catch us, I will give you as much gold and as many jewels as you can carry." For these tigers used to go out and carry off the men and women from the villages, and some of these people had rupees, and some had jewels, all of which the tigers used to collect together. "Good," said Him, "then I won't catch you." The tiger led him to the spot where all the tigers used to eat their dinners, and the barber took as much gold and as many jewels as he could carry, and set off home with them.

Then he built a house, and bought his children pretty clothes and good food, and necklaces, and they all lived very happily for some time. But at last he wanted more rupees, so he set off to the tigers' jungle. There he met the tiger as he did before, and he told him the Maharaja Kans had sent him to catch twenty tigers. The tiger was terrified and said, "If you will only not catch us, I will give you more gold and jewels." To this the barber agreed, and the tiger led him to the old spot, and the barber took as many jewels and rupees as he could carry. Then he returned home.

One day a very poor man, a fakir, said to him, "How did you manage to become so rich? In old days you were so poor you could hardly support your family."

"I will tell you," said Him. And he told him all about his visits to the tigers' jungle. "But don't you go there for gold to-night," continued the barber. "Let me go and listen to the tigers talking. If you like, you can come with me. Only you must not be frightened if the tigers roar."

"I'll not be frightened," said the fakir.

So that evening at eight o'clock they went to the tigers' jungle. There the barber and the fakir climbed into a tall thick tree, and its leaves came all about them and sheltered them as if they were in a house. The tigers used to hold their councils under this tree. Very soon all the tigers in the jungle assembled together under it, and their Raja—a great, huge beast, with only one eye—came too. "Brothers," said the tiger who had given the barber the rupees and jewels, "a man has come here twice to catch twenty of us for the Maharaja Kans; now we are only four hundred in number, and if twenty of us were taken away we should be only a small number, so I gave him each time as many rupees and jewels as he could carry and he went away again. What shall we do if he returns?" The tigers said they would meet again on the morrow, and then they would settle the matter. Then the tigers went off, and the barber and the fakir came down from the tree. They took a quantity of rupees and jewels and returned to their homes.

"To-morrow," said they, "we will come again and hear what the tigers say."

The next day the barber went alone to the tigers' jungle, and there he met his tiger again. "This time," said he, "I am come to cut off the ears of all the four hundred tigers who live in this jungle; for Maharaja Kans wants them to make into medicine."

The tiger was greatly frightened, much more so than at the other times. "Don't cut off our ears; pray don't," said he, "for then we could not hear, and it would hurt so horribly. Go and cut off all the dogs' ears instead, and I will give you rupees and jewels as much as two men can carry." "Good," said the barber, and he made two journeys with the rupees and jewels from the jungle to the borders of his village, and there he got a cooly to help him to carry them to his house.

At night he and the fakir went again to the great tree under which the tigers held their councils. Now the tiger who had given the barber so many rupees and jewels had made ready a great quantity of meat, fowls, chickens, geese, men the tigers had killed—everything he had been able to get hold of—and he made them into a heap under the tree, for he said that after the tigers had settled the matter they would dine. Soon the tigers arrived with their Raja, and the barber's tiger said, "Brothers, what are we to do? This man came again to-day to cut off all our ears to make medicine for Maharaja Kans. I told him this would be a bad business for us, and that he must go and cut off all the dogs' ears instead; and I gave him as much money and jewels as two men could carry. So he went home. Now what shall we do? We must leave this jungle, and where shall we go?" The other tigers said, "We will not leave the jungle. If this man comes again we will eat him up." So they dined and went away, saying they would meet again to-morrow.

After the tigers had gone, the barber and fakir came down from the tree and went off to their homes, without taking any rupees or jewels with them. They agreed to return the next evening.

Next evening back they came and climbed into the great tree. The tigers came too, and the barber's tiger told his story all over again. The tiger Raja sat up and said, fiercely, "We will not leave this jungle. Should the man come again, I will eat him myself." When the fakir heard this he was so frightened that he tumbled down out of the tree into the midst of the tigers. The barber instantly cried out with a loud voice, "Now cut off their ears! cut off their ears!" and the tigers, terrified, ran away as fast as they could. Then the barber took the fakir home, but the poor man was so much hurt by his fall that he died.

The barber lived happily ever after, but he took good care never to go to the tigers' jungle again.

Told by Dunkni.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

IX.

THE BULBUL AND THE COTTON-TREE.

There was once a bulbul, and one day as he was flying about, he saw a tree on which was a little fruit. The bulbul was much pleased and said, "I will sit here till this fruit is ripe, and then I will eat it." So he deserted his nest and his wife, and sat there for twelve years without eating anything, and every day he said, "To-morrow I will eat this fruit." During these twelve years a great many birds tried to sit on the tree, and wished to build their nests in it, but whenever they came the bulbul sent them away, saying, "This fruit is not good. Don't come here." One day a cuckoo came and said, "Why do you send us away? Why should we not come and sit here too? All the trees here are not yours." "Never mind," said the bulbul, "I am going to sit here, and when this fruit is ripe, I shall eat it." Now the cuckoo knew that this tree was the cotton-tree, but the bulbul did not. First comes the bud, which the bulbul thought a fruit, then the flower, and the flower becomes a big pod, and the pod bursts and all the cotton flies away. The bulbul was delighted when he saw the beautiful red flower, which he still thought a fruit, and said, "When it is ripe, it will be a delicious fruit." The flower became a pod, and the pod burst. "What is all this that is flying about?" said the bulbul. "The fruit must be ripe now." So he looked into the pod, and it was empty; all the cotton had fallen out. Then the cuckoo came and said to the angry bulbul, "You see if you had allowed us to come and sit on the tree, you would have had something good to eat; but as you were selfish, and would not let any one share with you, God is angry and has punished you by giving you a hollow fruit." Then the cuckoo called all the other birds, and they came and mocked the bulbul. "Ah! you see God has punished you for your selfishness," they said. The bulbul got very angry and all the birds went away. After they had gone, the bulbul said to the tree, "You are a bad tree. You are of use to no one. You give food to no one." The tree said, "You are mistaken. God made me what I am. My flower is given to sheep to eat. My cotton makes pillows and mattresses for man."

Since that day no bulbul goes near a cotton-tree.

Told by Dunkni.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

X.

THE MONKEY PRINCE.

Once upon a time there was a Raja called Jabhu Raja, and he had a great many wives; at least he had seven wives, but he had no children. Although he had married seven wives, not one of them had given him a child. At this he was greatly vexed and said, "I have married seven wives, and not one of them has given me a child." And he got very angry with God: he said, "Why does not God give me any children? I will go into the jungle and die by myself." The Ranis coaxed him to stay, but he wouldn't; he would go out into the jungle.

So he went out into the jungle very far, and God sent him an old fakir leaning on a stick. The Raja met him, and the fakir said, "Why do you come into the jungle? If you go far into the jungle you will meet plenty of tigers, and they will eat you. Tell me what you want. Whatever you want I will give you." "No, I won't tell you," said the Raja. But at last the Raja told him, "I have seven wives, and none of them has given me any children, and so here I will die by myself." Then the fakir said, "Take this stick, and a little way off you will find a mango-tree with some mangoes on it. Throw the stick at the mangoes with one hand, and catch them as they fall with the other, and when you have caught them all, take them home and give one to each of your seven wives." So the Raja went and knocked the mangoes off the tree and caught them as the fakir had told him. Then he looked about for the fakir, but he could not find him, for he had gone away into another part of the jungle. So he went home and gave the seven mangoes to his wives. But the fruit was so good that six of the wives ate it up, and would not give the youngest wife any. She cried very much, and went into the compound and picked up one of the mango stones which one of the six wives had thrown away, and ate it. By and by each of the six wives had a son; but the one who had eaten the stone had a monkey, who was called in consequence Bandarsabasa, or Prince Monkey. He was really a boy, but no one knew it, for he had a monkey-skin covering him. His six brothers hated him. They went to school every day; and the monkey went under the ground, and was taught by the fairies. His mother did not know this; she thought, as he was a monkey, he went to the jungle and swung in the trees. He was the best and the cleverest of all the boys.

Now, in a kingdom a three months' journey off by land from Jabhu Raja's country, there lived a king called King Jamarsa. He had a very beautiful daughter whose name was Princess Jahuran, and as her father wanted a very strong son-in-law, he had a large heavy iron ball made, and he sent letters to all the Rajas and Rajas' sons far and near to say that whoever wished to marry his daughter, the Princess Jahuran, must be able to throw this heavy ball at her and hit her. So many Rajas went to try, but none of them could even lift the ball. Now, one of these letters had come to Jabhu Raja, and his six elder sons determined they would go to King Jamarsa's country, for each of them was sure he could throw the ball, and win the princess.

Prince Monkey laughed softly and said to himself, "I will go and try too. I know I shall succeed."

Off, therefore, the six brothers set on their long journey, and the monkey followed them; but before he did so, he went into the jungle and took off his monkey-skin, and God sent him a beautiful horse and beautiful clothes. Then he followed his brothers and overtook them, and gave them betel-leaf and lovely flowers. "What a beautiful boy!" they said. "Who is it owns such a beautiful boy? He must be some Raja's son." Then he galloped quickly away, took off his grand clothes and put them on his horse, and the horse rose into the air. He put on his monkey-skin and followed his brothers.

When they reached King Jamarsa's palace they pitched their tents in his compound, which was very big. Every evening the princess used to stand in her verandah and let down her long golden hair so that it fell all round her, and then the Rajas who wished to marry her had to try to hit her with the great heavy ball that lay on the ground just in front of where she stood.

King Jamarsa's house had more than one storey, and you had to go upstairs to get to the Princess Jahuran's rooms which led into the verandah in which she used to stand.

Well, Prince Monkey's six elder brothers all got ready to go up to the palace and throw the ball. They were quite sure they would throw it without any trouble. Before they went they told their monkey brother to take care of their tents, and to have a good dinner ready for them when they returned. "If the dinner is not ready, we will beat you."

As soon as they were gone, Prince Monkey took some gold mohurs he had, and he went to a traveller's resting-house, which was a little way outside King Jamarsa's compound, and gave them to the man who owned it, and bade him give him a grand dinner for his six brothers. Then he took the dinner to the tents, went into the jungle, and took off his monkey-skin. And God sent him a grand horse from heaven, and splendid clothes. These he put on, mounted his horse, and rode to King Jamarsa's compound. There he took no notice of either the king, or his daughter, or of the ball, or of the Rajas who were there to try and lift it. He spoke only to his brothers, and gave them lovely flowers and betel-leaf. Meanwhile, everybody was looking at him and talking about him. "Who can he be? Did you ever see any one so lovely? Where does he come from? Just look at his clothes! In our countries we cannot get any like them!" As for the Princess Jahuran she thought to herself, "That Raja shall be my husband, whether he lifts the ball or not." When he had given his brothers the flowers and betel-leaf, Prince Monkey rode straight to the jungle, took off his clothes, laid them on his horse (which instantly went up to heaven), put on his monkey-skin, went back to the tents, and lay down to sleep.

When his brothers came home they were talking eagerly about the unknown beautiful Raja. All the time they were eating their dinner they could speak of nothing else.

Well, every evening for about ten evenings it was just the same story. Only every evening Prince Monkey appeared in a different dress. The princess always thought, "That is the man I will marry, whether he can throw the ball or not." Then about the eleventh evening, after he had given his brothers the flowers and betel-leaf, he said to all the Rajas who were standing there, and to King Jamarsa and to all the servants, "Now every one of you go and stand far away, for I am going to throw the ball." "No, no!" they all cried, "we will stand here and see you." "You must go far away. You can look on at a distance," said the Monkey Prince; "the ball might fall back among you and hurt you." So they all went off and stood round him at a distance.

"Now," said Prince Monkey to himself, "I won't hit the princess this time; but I will hit the verandah railing." Then he took up the ball with one hand, just as if it were quite light, and threw it on the verandah railing, and then he rode off fast to the jungle.

The next evening it was the same thing over again, only this time he threw the ball into the Princess Jahuran's clothes.

The next evening the ball fell on one of her feet, and hurt her little toe-nail. Now, Princess Jahuran was very angry that this unknown beautiful prince should have thrown the ball three times, and hit her twice, and hurt her the third time, and yet had never spoken to her father, or let any one know who he was, and had always, on the contrary, ridden away as hard as he could, no one knew where. She was very much in love with him, and was very anxious to find this Raja who had hit her twice, so she ordered a bow and arrow to be brought to her, and said she would shoot the Raja the next time he hit her. She would not kill him; she would only shoot the arrow at him. Well, the next evening Prince Monkey threw the ball, and it fell on her other foot and hurt her great toe-nail. When he saw she was hurt, he was very sorry in his heart, and said, "Did I hurt you?" "Yes," she said, "very much." "Oh, I am so sorry," said the prince. "I would not have thrown the ball so hard had I thought it would hurt you." Then she shot the arrow, and hit him in the leg, and a great deal of blood came out of the wound; but he rode hard away to the jungle all the same, only this time he did not take off his fine clothes, but he drew the monkey-skin over them, and his horse went up to heaven, and he went back to the tents. Then the princess sent a servant into the town, and said, whoever or whatever he should hear crying with pain, he should bring to her—were it a man, or a jackal, or a dog, or a wild beast. So the servant went round the town. The six brothers had gone to sleep, but the poor monkey brother could not sleep, but sat up crying from pain. He could not help it, do what he would, and the servant, as he went round the town, heard him crying. So he took him and brought him to the princess, and the princess said she would marry him.

"What!" cried her father, "marry that monkey? Never! Who ever heard of any one marrying a monkey, a nasty monkey?" But in spite of all the king said, the princess declared marry that monkey she would. "I like that monkey very, very much," she said. "I will marry him. It is my pleasure to marry him." "Well," said the Raja at last, "if it is your pleasure to marry him, you must marry him; but who ever heard of any one marrying a nasty monkey?"

So they were married at once; and the Monkey Prince wore his monkey-skin for a wedding garment.

That night when they went to bed, the young prince drew off his skin and lay down by Jahuran, and when she saw her beautiful husband she was so glad, so glad. "Why do you wear a monkey-skin?" she asked. He answered, "I wear it as a protection, because my brothers are naughty, and would kill me if they knew what I really am."

They lived very happily with King Jamarsa for six months, and the six elder brothers went on living there too, and hating him more and more for having such a beautiful wife.

But one night Prince Monkey thought of his mother, and he said to his wife, "My mother perhaps is crying for me. Let us go to my father's kingdom, and see her." Princess Jahuran agreed; so next morning they spoke to King Jamarsa, who said they might go.

The six brothers at once said, "We will go with you;" and they also said, "Let us get two big boats, one for you and the princess, and one for ourselves, and let us go by water, and not by land." Now by water it took only six days to get to Jabhu Raja's kingdom, by land it took three months. The Monkey Prince agreed to all his brothers said.

Princess Jahuran heard them planning to throw the monkey into the water on the journey, and then to take her home to their father as the wife of one of them; so as she was very wise she went to her father and begged him to have six large beautiful mattresses, well stuffed with cotton, made for her.

"What can you want with six mattresses?" said the king. "I want my bed to be very comfortable on board the boat," said his daughter. Her father loved her dearly, so he had her mattresses made, beautiful mattresses and well stuffed with cotton. The princess had them all carried to her boat.

When everything was ready they went on board the boats with the monkey's six brothers. Now, the princess had warned her husband of his brothers' wicked plans, and she said to him, "Never go near your brothers; never speak to your brothers; for they want to kill you." The first day the six brothers said to the monkey, "Please bring us a little salt." But the monkey said, "No; my wife will take you some." "No," said the brothers, "your wife cannot bring us any. She is a princess. Do you bring us some." So they threw a rope from one boat to another, and the monkey went on the rope, and the brothers untied it, and the monkey fell into the water. Then the princess cried out, "My husband will be drowned! My husband will be drowned!" And she threw out one of the mattresses; the monkey sat on it; it floated back to his boat, and the crew drew him up.

The next day the six brothers begged Prince Monkey to bring them water, and they threw a plank from their boat to his for him to cross on. The prince set off with the water, in spite of all his wife's entreaties, and his brothers tilted the plank into the water. The prince would have been drowned had not the Princess Jahuran thrown him a mattress. And the same thing happened during the next four days. The brothers wanted something to eat or drink, and their monkey-brother brought it them across a rope or plank, which they cut or dropped into the water, and he would have died but for the mattresses which his wife threw to him one by one.

When they reached Jabhu Raja's kingdom, the eldest son went on shore up to his father's palace. Each of the Raja's seven wives had a house to herself in his compound. He went to his mother's house and said, "Give me your palanquin, mother, for I have brought home a most lovely wife, and want to bring her to the palace."

At this news his mother was delighted, and she told it to the other Ranis, and said, "My son has brought home such a lovely wife! I am so glad! oh, I am so glad!" The youngest Rani began to cry bitterly. "My son," she said, "is nothing but a monkey; he will never be married; he will never have a wife at all."

Then the palanquin was got ready, and the seven Ranis and the prince went with it to the boat. The Princess Jahuran came on land with her monkey, and when the Ranis saw her, they all cried, "How lovely she is! how beautiful!" And the eldest Rani was gladder than ever, and the youngest cried still more. The princess got into the palanquin with her monkey. "What are you doing with that horrid monkey?" said the eldest prince. "Put him out of the palanquin directly." "Indeed I will not," said the princess. "He is my husband, and I love him." "What!" cried all the Ranis, "are you married to that monkey?" "Yes," said the princess. "Then get out of my palanquin at once," said the eldest Rani. "You shall not ride in my palanquin with that nasty monkey." The youngest Rani was very glad her son had such a beautiful wife. So the princess got out, and took her monkey in her arms and walked with him to the youngest Rani's house, and there they all lived for some time. Now the little Rani did not know her son was really a beautiful man, for the princess never told her, as her husband had forbidden her to tell any one.

One evening Jabhu Raja's servants had a grand nautch in the Raja's compound, and the Raja and his sons and the neighbouring Rajas all came to see it. Prince Monkey said to his wife, "I, too, will go and see this nautch." So he took off his monkey-skin, folded it up and laid it under her pillow. Then he put on the clothes God had sent him from heaven the last time he threw the ball, and which he had not laid on his horse's back when he put his monkey-skin on again, and when he came among all the Rajas and people who were looking on at the nautch, they all exclaimed, "Who is that? Who can it be?" He was very handsome, and he had beautiful hair all gold. When he had stayed some time, Prince Monkey went quickly back to his wife, and in the morning he put on his monkey-skin again.

Now the little Rani, his mother, though she was very glad her monkey son had such a wife, could never understand how it was that her daughter-in-law was so happy with him. "How could you marry him?" she used to say to her. "Because it pleased me to marry him," the princess used to answer. "How can you be so happy with him?" said the mother. "I love him," said the princess; and the poor Rani used to wonder at this more and more.

Well, one day there was another nautch, and Prince Monkey went to it; but he left his skin under his wife's pillow. As soon as he had gone, she called the little Rani, and said, "See, you think my husband is a monkey; he is no monkey, but a very handsome man. There is no one like him, he is so beautiful." The Rani did not believe her. Then the princess took the skin from under her pillow. "See," she said, "when your son puts this on, then he is a monkey; when he takes it off he is a beautiful man. And now, I think I will burn this skin, and then he must always be a man. What do you say?" "Are you sure it won't hurt him if you burn his skin?" said his mother. "Perhaps he may die if it is burnt." "Oh, no, he won't die," said the princess. "Shall I burn it?" "Burn it," said the little Rani. Then the princess threw the skin on the fire and burnt it quite up.

Prince Monkey was sitting looking on at the nautch when suddenly his heart told him his wife had burnt his skin. He jumped up directly and went home, and when he found his heart had told him true, he was so angry with his wife, that he would say nothing to her but "Why did you burn my skin?" and he was in such a rage that he went straight to bed and went to sleep.

In the morning, while he slept, the princess went to the little Rani, and said, "Come and see your beautiful son." "I am ashamed to do so," said the Rani. "Ashamed to look at your own son? What nonsense! Come directly," said Princess Jahuran. Then the little Rani went with her, and when she saw her beautiful son she was indeed glad, and the prince opened his eyes and saw her, and then he kissed her, and they were very happy.

The news spread through the compound, and Jabhu Raja and his sons and everybody came at once to see if it were true. When they saw the beautiful young prince, with his hair all gold, they could not stand, but fell down. Prince Monkey lifted his father and loved him, and put his arms round him, and said, "I am your son, your own son; you must not fall down before me." "Why did you wear that monkey-skin?" asked his father. "Because," he said, "my mother ate the mango stone instead of eating the mango, and so I was born with this skin, and God ordered me to wear it till I had found a wife." His brothers said, "Who could have guessed there was such a beautiful man inside that monkey-skin? God's decrees are good!" And they left off hating their brother, Prince Monkey.

There were great rejoicings and feasts now, and all were very happy. The six elder brothers lived always with their father and Prince Monkey, but none of them ever married.

Told by Dunkni.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

XI.

BRAVE HIRALALBASA.

Once there was a Raja called Manikbasa Raja, or the Ruby King, who had seven wives and seven children. One day he told his wives he would go out hunting, and he rode on and on, a long, long way from his palace. A Rakshas was sitting by the wayside, who, seeing the Raja coming, quickly turned herself into a beautiful Rani, and sat there crying. The Raja asked her, "Why do you cry?" And the Rakshas answered, "My husband has gone away. He has been away many days, and I think he will never come back again. If some Raja will take me to his house and marry me, I shall be very glad." So the Raja said, "Will you come with me?" And the Rakshas answered, "Very well, I will come." And then the Raja took the pretended Rani home with him and married her. He gave her a room to live in. Every night at twelve o'clock the Rakshas got up and devoured an elephant, or a horse, or some other animal. The Raja said, "What can become of my elephants and horses? Every day either an elephant or a horse disappears. Who can take them away?" The Rakshas-Rani said to him, "Your seven Ranis are Rakshases, and every night at twelve o'clock they devour a horse, or an elephant, or some other creature."

So the Raja believed her, and had a great hole dug just outside his kingdom, into which he put the seven Ranis with their children, and then he sent a sepoy to them and bade him take out all the Ranis' eyes, and bring them to him. This the sepoy did. After a time the poor Ranis grew so hungry that six of them ate their children, but the seventh Rani, who was the youngest of them all, declared she would never eat her child though she might die of hunger, "for," she said, "I love him a great deal too much." God was very pleased with the seventh Rani for this, and so every day he sent her a little food, which she divided with the other Ranis. And every day her little boy grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger, until he had become a strong lad, when, as he thought it was very dark in the hole, he climbed out of it and looked all about. Then he came back to his mothers (for he called all the seven Ranis "Mother" now), who told him he was not to clamber up out of the hole any more, for if he did, some one might kill him. "Still, if you will go," they added, "do not go to your father's kingdom, but stay near this place." The boy said, "Very well," and every day he climbed out of the hole and only went where his seven mothers told him he might go, and he used to beg the people about to give him a little rice, and flour and bread, which they did.

One day he said to his mothers, "If you let me go now to my father's kingdom, I will go." "Well, you may go," they said; "but come back again soon." This he promised to do, and he went to his father's kingdom. For some time he stood daily at the door of his father's palace and then returned to the hole. One day the Rakshas-Rani was standing in the verandah, and she thought, "I am sure that is the Raja's son." The servants every day asked the boy, "Why do you always stand at the door of the palace?" "I want service with the Raja," he would reply. "If the Raja has any place he can give me, I will take it."

The Rakshas-Rani said to the Raja, "The boy standing out there wants service. May I take him into mine?" The Raja answered, "Very well, send for him." So all the servants ran and fetched the boy. The Rakshas-Rani asked him, "Are you willing to do anything I tell you?" The boy said, "Yes." "Then you shall be my servant," she said, and first she told him he must go to the Rakshas country to fetch some rose-water for her. "I will give you a letter," she said, "so that no harm may happen to you." The lad answered, "Very well, only you must give me three shields full of money." She gave him the three shields full of money, and he took them and went home to his mothers. Then he got two servants for them, one to take care of them, and one to go to the bazar. His mothers gave him food for the journey, and he left them the remainder of his money, telling them to take great care of it. He then returned to the Rakshas-Rani for his letter. She told the Raja she was feeling ill, and would not be quite well until she got some rose-water from the Rakshas country. The Raja said, "Then you had better send this boy for it." So she gave him a letter, in which she had written, "When this boy arrives among you, kill him and eat him instantly," and he set out at once.

He went on and on till he came to a great river in which lived a huge water-snake. When the water-snake saw him it began to weep very much, and cried out to the boy, "If you go to the Rakshas country you will be eaten up." The lad, whose name was Hiralalbasa, said, "I cannot help it; I am the Rani's servant, so I must do what she tells me." "Well," said the water-snake, "get on my back, and I will take you across this river." So he got on the water-snake's back, and it took him over the river. Then Hiralalbasa went on and on until he came to a house in which a Rakshas lived. A Rani lived there too that the Rakshas had carried off from her father and mother when she was a little girl. She was playing in her father the Sondarbasa Raja's garden, which was full of delicious fruits, which the Rakshas came to eat, and when he saw Sonahri Rani he seized her in his mouth and ran off with her. Only she was so beautiful he could never find it in his heart to eat her, but brought her up as his own child. Her name was Sonahri Rani, that is, the Golden Rani, because her teeth and her hair were made of gold. Now the Rakshas who had carried her off, and whom she called Papa, had a great thick stick, and when he laid this stick at her feet she could not stir, but when he laid it at her head, she could move again.

When the Raja's son came up, Sonahri Rani was lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet, and as soon as she saw the Raja's son she began to cry very much. "Oh, why have you come here? You will surely be killed," she said. The Raja's son answered, "I cannot help that. I am the Rani's servant, so I must do what she tells me." "Of course," said Sonahri Rani; "but put this stick at my head, and then I shall be able to move." The Raja's son laid the stick at her head, and she got up and gave him some food, and then asked him if he had a letter. "Yes," he answered. "Let me see it," said the Sonahri Rani. So he gave her the letter, and when she had read it she cried, "Oh, this is a very wicked letter. It will bring you no good; for if the Rakshases see it, they will kill you." "Indeed," said Hiralalbasa. And the Sonahri Rani tore up the letter and wrote another in which she said, "Make much of this boy. Send him home quickly, and give him a jug of rose-water to bring back with him, and see that he gets no hurt." Then the Raja's son set out again for the Rakshas-Rani's mother's house. He had not gone very far when he met a very big Rakshas, and he cried out to him, "Uncle." "Who is this boy," said the Rakshas, "who calls me uncle?" And he was just going to kill him when Hiralalbasa showed his letter, and the Rakshas let him pass on. He went a little further until he met another Rakshas, bigger than the first, and the Rakshas screamed at him and was just going to fall on him and kill him, but the Raja's son showed the letter, and the Rakshas let him pass unhurt. When Hiralalbasa came to the Rakshas-Rani's mother he showed her the letter, and she gave him the rose-water at once and sent him off. All the Rakshases were very good to him, and some carried him part of the way home. When he came to Sonahri Rani's house she was lying on her bed with the stick at her feet, and as soon as she saw Hiralalbasa she laughed and said, "Oh, you have come back again? Put this stick at my head." "Yes," said the Raja's son, "I've come back again, but I was dreadfully frightened very often." Then he put the stick at her head, and she gave him some food to eat. After he had eaten it he went on again, and when he came to the river the water-snake carried him across to the other side, and he travelled to his father's kingdom. There he went to the Rakshas-Rani and gave her the rose-water. She was very angry at seeing him, and said, "I'm sure my father and my mother, my brothers and my sisters, don't love me one bit."

And she said to Hiralalbasa, "You must go to-morrow to the Rakshas kingdom to fetch me flowers." "I will go," said Hiralal, "but this time I must have four shields full of rupees." The Rakshas-Rani gave him the four shields full of rupees; and the Raja's son went to his mother's hole and bought a quantity of food for them, enough to last them all the time he should be away, and he hired two servants for them, and said good-bye to his seven mothers and returned to Manikbasa's palace for his letter. This the Rakshas-Rani gave him, and in it she wrote, "Kill him and eat him at once. If you do not, and you send him back to me, I will never see your faces again." Hiralal took his letters and went on his way. When he reached the river the water-snake took him across to the other side, and he walked on till he came to Sonahri Rani's house. She was lying on the bed with the stick at her feet. "Oh, why have you come here again?" she said. "How can I help coming?" said the Raja's son. "I must do what my mistress bids me." "So you must," said the Sonahri Rani; "but put this stick at my head." This he did, and she got up and gave him food, and asked him to let her see his letter, and when she had read it she cried, "This is a very wicked letter. If you take it with you, you will surely die." Then she tore up the letter and burnt it, and wrote another in which she said, "You must all be very good to this boy. Show him all the gardens and see that he is not hurt in any way." She gave it to Hiralal, and he begged her to ask the Rakshas, her father, where he kept his soul. Sonahri Rani promised she would. She then turned Hiralal into a little fly, and put him into a tiny box, and put the box under her pillow. When the Rakshas came home he began sniffing about and said, "Surely there is a man here." "Oh, no," said Sonahri Rani; "no one is here but me." The Rakshas was satisfied. When Sonahri Rani and her father were in bed she asked, "Papa, where is your soul?" "Why do you want to know?" said the Rakshas. "I will tell you another day."

The next day at nine in the morning the Rakshas went away, and Sonahri Rani took Hiralal and restored him to his human shape, and gave him some food, and he travelled on till he reached the Rakshas-Rani's mother, whom he called Grannie. She welcomed him very kindly and showed him the garden, which was very large. The Raja's son noticed a number of jugs and water-jars. So he said, "Grannie, what is there in all these jars and jugs?" She answered, showing them to him one by one, "In this is such and such a thing," and so on, telling him the contents of each, till she came to the water-jar in which were his mothers' eyes. "In this jar," said the Rakshas, "are your seven mothers' eyes." "Oh, grannie dear!" said Hiralal, "give me my mothers' eyes." "Very well, dear boy," said the old Rakshas, "you shall have them." She gave him, too, some ointment, and told him to rub the eyes with it when he put them into his mothers' heads, and that then they would see quite well; and he took the eyes and tied them up in a corner of his cloth. His grannie gave him the flowers, and he went back to Sonahri Rani. She was lying on her bed with the stick at her feet, and when she saw him she laughed and said, "Oh, so you have come back again?" "Yes, I have," said Hiralal; "and I have got the flowers, and my seven mothers' eyes too." "Have you indeed?" said Sonahri Rani. "Put this stick at my head." He did so, and she got up and gave him some food, and he told her to ask her father the Rakshas where his soul was. She promised she would, and she changed him into a little fly, and shut him up in a tiny box, and put the tiny box under her pillow. By and by home came the Rakshas, and began to sniff about crying, "A man is here!" "Oh, no," said Sonahri Rani; and she gave him some dinner, and when they were in bed she asked him, "Papa, where is your soul?" "I'll tell you another day," said the Rakshas. The next day, when he had gone out to find food, Sonahri Rani took the little fly, Hiralal, and restored him to his human shape, and gave him some food and sent him on his way. When he reached the river, the water-snake took him over to the other side, and he journeyed on till he came to his father's kingdom. First he went to his mothers' hole and gave them their fourteen eyes, and he put them into their heads with the ointment which the Rakshas-grannie had given him. Then he went to Manikbasa Raja's palace, and when the Rakshas-Rani saw him she was furious. "I am sure my father and my mother, my sisters and my brothers, do not love me one bit. I will never see their faces again. But I'll send him to them once more."

This is what she thought, but she took the flowers and said, "You must go a third time to the Rakshas country."

"I will," said the boy: "only I'll not go till the fourth day from to-day, for I am very tired. And you must give me four shields full of rupees." "Good," said the Rakshas-Rani. "This time you must get me a sari."[2] And she gave him the four shields full of money. Then he went to his mothers, and bought them a house and got food for them, and stayed with them four days.

At the end of the four days he went to the Rakshas-Rani, who gave him a letter in which she had written, "If you do not kill and eat this boy as soon as he arrives, I will never see your faces again." The Raja's son took the letter and set out on his journey.

When he came to the river, the water-snake took him across; and when he arrived at Sonahri Rani's house, there she was lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet. She said, "Oh, you have come here again, have you?" "Yes," he said, "I have come for the last time." "Put the stick at my head," said she. So he laid the stick at her head. Then she gave him some food, and just before the Rakshas came home, he bade her ask him where he kept his soul. When she saw him coming, Sonahri Rani turned Hiralalbasa into a little fly, put him in a tiny box, and put the box under her pillow. As soon as she and the Rakshas had gone to bed, she asked him, "Papa, where do you keep your soul?" "Sixteen miles away from this place," said he, "is a tree. Round the tree are tigers, and bears, and scorpions, and snakes; on the top of the tree is a very great fat snake; on his head is a little cage; in the cage is a bird; and my soul is in that bird." The little fly listened all the time. The next morning, when the Rakshas had gone, Sonahri Rani took the fly and gave him back his human form, gave him some food, and then asked to see his letter. When she had read it she screamed and said, "Oh! if you go with this letter you will surely die." So she tore it up into little bits and threw it into the fire. And she wrote another in which she said, "Make a great deal of this boy; see that he gets no hurt; give him the sari for me; show him the garden; and be very kind to him." She then gave Hiralal the letter, and he journeyed on in safety till he reached his Rakshas-grannie's house.

The Rakshas-grannie was very good to him; showed him the garden, and gave him the sari; and he then said his mother, the Rakshas-Rani, was in great trouble about her soul, and wanted very much to have it. So the Rakshas-grannie gave him a bird in which was the Rakshas-Rani's soul, charging him to take the greatest care of it. Then he said, "My mother, the Rakshas-Rani, also wants a stone such that, if you lay it on the ground, or if you put it in your clothes, it will become gold, and also your long heavy gold necklace that hangs down to the waist." Both these things the Rakshas-grannie gave to Hiralal. Then he returned to Sonahri Rani's house, where he found her lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet. "Oh, there you are," said Sonahri Rani, laughing. "Yes," he said, "I have come." And he put the stick at her head, and she got up and gave him some food.

He told her he was going to fetch her Rakshas-father's soul, but that he did not quite know how to pass through the tigers and bears, and scorpions and snakes, that guarded it. So she gave him a feather, and said, "As long as you hold this feather straight, you can come to no harm, for you will be invisible. You will see everything, but nothing will see you."

He carried the feather straight as she had bidden him and reached the tree in safety. Then he climbed up it, took the little cage, and came down again. Though the Rakshas was far off, he knew at once something had happened to his bird. Hiralal pulled off the bird's right leg, and the Rakshas' right leg fell off, but on he hopped on one leg. Then the Raja's son pulled off the bird's left leg, and off fell the Rakshas' left leg, but still he went on towards his house on his hands. Then Hiralal pulled off the bird's wings, and the Rakshas' two arms fell off. And then, just as the Rakshas reached the door of his house, Hiralal wrung the bird's neck, and the Rakshas fell dead. Sonahri Rani was greatly frightened when she heard such a heavy thing fall thump on the ground so close to the house, but she could not move, for the thick stick lay at her feet. Hiralal ran as fast as he could to Sonahri Rani. When he arrived at the door of her house he saw the Rakshas lying dead, and he went in and told Sonahri Rani that her Rakshas-father was killed. "Nonsense," she said. "It is true," said Hiralal; "come and see." So he put the stick at her head. "I am sure you are telling a lie," said Sonahri Rani. "I should be very glad if he were dead, for I do not like living with him, I am so afraid of him." "Indeed he's dead. Do come and see," said Hiralal. Then they went outside, and when Sonahri Rani saw her Rakshas-father lying there dead, she was exceedingly happy, and said to Hiralal, "I will go home with you, and be your wife." So they were married, and then they went into Sonahri Rani's Rakshas-father's house and took all the money and jewels they could find. And Hiralal gave the sari, the stone, and the necklace to Sonahri Rani, and he took some flowers for the Rakshas-Rani.

When they came to the river, the water-snake carried them across to the other side, and they travelled on till they came to Manikbasa Raja's kingdom. There Hiralal went first of all to his mothers, and when they saw Sonahri Rani they wondered who the beautiful woman could be that their son had brought home. He said to them, "This is Sonahri Rani, my wife. But for her I should have died." Then he bought a grand house for Sonahri Rani and his seven mothers to live in, and he got four servants for Sonahri Rani, two to cook, and two to wait on her. The seven mothers and Sonahri used all to sit on a beautiful, clean quilted cushion, as big as a carpet, Sonahri Rani in the middle and the seven mothers round her, while they sewed, or wrote, and talked. Hiralal then went to the Rakshas-Rani and said, "I could not get the sari you sent me for, so I brought you these flowers instead." When she saw the flowers she was frantic. She said, "My father, my mother, my sisters, my brothers, don't care for me, not one bit! not one scrap! I will never see their faces again—never! never! I will send some other messenger to them."

One day the Raja's son came to Manikbasa and said, "Would you like to see a grand sight?" Manikbasa Raja said, "What sight?" Hiralal said, "If you would like to see a really grand sight you must do what I tell you." "Good," answered Manikbasa, "I will do whatever you tell me." "Well, then," said his son, "you must build a very strong iron house, and round it you must lay heaps of wood. In that house you must put your present Rani." So Manikbasa Raja had a very strong iron house built, round which he set walls of wood. Then he went to his Rakshas-Rani and said, "Will you go inside that iron house, and see what it is like?" "Yes, I will," answered she. The Raja had had great venetians made for the house, and only one door. As soon as the Rakshas-Rani had gone in, he locked the door. Then Hiralal took the little bird, a cockatoo, in which was the Rakshas-Rani's soul, and showed it to the Rakshas-Rani from afar off. When she saw it she turned herself into a huge Rakshas as big as a house. She could not turn in the iron house because she was so huge. Manikbasa was dreadfully frightened when he saw his Rani was a horrible Rakshas. Then Hiralal pulled off the bird's legs, and as the Rakshas was breaking through the iron house to seize Hiralal, he wrung the cockatoo's neck, and the Rakshas died instantly. They set fire to the walls of wood, and the body of the wicked Rakshas was burnt to fine ashes.

The Raja's Wazir turned to the Raja and said, "What a fool you were to marry this Rakshas, and at her bidding to send your seven wives and your seven sons away into the jungle, taking out your seven wives' eyes, and being altogether so cruel to them! You are a great, great fool!" The poor Raja wept, and then the Wazir, pointing to Hiralal, said, "This is your seventh and youngest Rani's son." The Raja then embraced Hiralalbasa and asked his forgiveness. And Hiralal told him his story, how he and his mothers had lived a long, long time in the hole; how six of the Ranis had eaten their children; how his mother had not had the heart to eat him; how he had got his seven mothers' eyes from the Rakshas-grannie; and lastly, how he had married Sonahri Rani. Then the Raja ordered seven litters for his seven Ranis, and a beautiful litter with rich cloth for Sonahri Rani. The Raja and his Wazir and his attendants, and his son, all went with the litters to Hiralal's house; and when the Raja saw Sonahri Rani he fell flat on his face, he was so struck by her beauty. For she had a fair, fair skin, rosy cheeks, blue eyes, rosy lips, golden eyelashes, and golden eyebrows, and golden hair. When she combed her hair, she used to put the hair she combed out in paper and to lay the paper on the river, and it floated down to where the poor people caught it, and sold it, and got heaps of money for it. Her sari was of gold, her shoes were of gold, for God loved her dearly. Then the Raja rose and embraced all his wives and Sonahri Rani, and the seven Ranis walked into the seven litters; but Sonahri Rani was carried to hers, for fear she should soil her feet, or get hurt. Then Manikbasa Raja gave Hiralal's house to his Wazir, while his seven Ranis and Hiralal and Sonahri Rani lived with him in his palace. And they lived happily for ever after.

Told by Dunkni at Simla, 26th July and 1st August, 1876.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] A long piece of stuff which Hindu women wind round the body as a petticoat, passing one end over the head, like a veil.



[Decoration]

XII.

THE MAN WHO WENT TO SEEK HIS FATE.

Once there was a very poor man who had a wife and twelve children, and not a single rupee. The poor children used to cry with hunger, and the man and his wife did not know what to do. At last he got furious with God and said, "How wicked God is! He gives me a great many children, but no money." So he set out to find his fate. In the jungle he met a camel with two heavy sacks of gold on its back. This camel belonged to a Raja, and once it was travelling with other camels and with the Raja's servants to another country, and carrying the sacks of gold. Every night they encamped and started again early in the morning; but one morning the servants forgot to take this camel with them, and the camel forgot the road home, and the sacks were too tightly strapped for it to get rid of them. So it wandered about the jungle with the sacks on its back for twelve years. The camel asked the poor man where he was going. "I am going to seek my fate, to ask it why I am so poor," he answered. The camel said, "Ask it, too, why for twelve years I have had to carry these two sacks of gold. All this time I have not been able to lie down, or to eat, or to drink." "Very well," said the man, and he went on.

Then he came to a river in which he saw an alligator. The alligator took him across, and when he got to the other side it asked him where he was going. The man said, "I am going to seek my fate, to ask it why I am so poor." "Then," said the alligator, "ask it also why for twelve years I have a great burning in my stomach." "I will," said the man.

Then he went on and on till he came to a tiger, who was lying on the ground with a great thorn sticking in his foot. This tiger had gone out one day to hunt for food, and not looking where he was going, he put his foot on the thorn, and the thorn ran into his foot. And so God grew very angry and said, "Because you are such a careless, stupid fellow, and don't look where you are going, for twelve years this thorn shall remain in your foot." "Where are you going?" the tiger asked the man. "I am going to seek my fate, to ask it why I am so poor. Some one told me that my fate was far, far away, a twelve years' journey from my own country, and that it was lying down, and that I must take a thick stick and beat it with all my might." "Ask it, too," said the tiger, "why for twelve years I have had this thorn in my foot and cannot get it out, though I have tried hard to do so." "Yes, I will," said the man.

Then he came to the place where every one's fate lives. The fates are stones, some standing and others lying on the ground. "This must be mine," he said; "it is lying on the ground, that's why I am so poor." So he took the thick stick he had in his hand, and beat it, and beat it, and beat it, but still it would not stir. As night was approaching he left off beating it, and God sent a soul into the poor man's fate, and it became a man, who stood looking at the poor man and said, "Why have you beaten me so much?" "Because you were lying down, and I am very poor, and at home my wife and my children are starving." "Oh, things will go well with you now," said the fate, and the man was satisfied. He said to his fate, "While coming here I met a camel who for twelve years has had to wander about with two heavy sacks of gold on its back, and it wants to know why it must carry them." "Oh," said the fate, "just take the sacks off its back and then it will be free." "I will," said the poor man. "Then I met an alligator who for twelve years has had a great burning in its stomach." The fate said, "In its stomach is a very large ruby, as big as your hand. If the alligator will only throw up the ruby, it will be quite well." "Next I met a tiger who has had for twelve years a great thorn in his foot which he cannot take out." "Pull it out with your teeth," said the fate; and then God withdrew the soul, and the fate became a stone again which stood up on the ground.

Then the man set out on his journey home, and he came to the tiger. "What did your fate say?" said the tiger. "Give me your foot and I will take out the thorn," said the poor man. The tiger stretched out the foot with the thorn in it, and the man pulled out the thorn with his teeth. It was a very large thorn, as big as the man's hand. The tiger felt grateful to the poor man, and as he was very rich, for he had eaten a great many Rajas and people, and had all their money, he said to the man, "I will give you some gold in return for your kindness." "You have no money," said the man. "I have," said the tiger, and he went into his den, and the poor man followed. "Give me your cloth," said the tiger. The man laid it on the ground. Then the tiger took quantities of gold and jewels and filled the cloth with them. And the poor man took up his cloth, thanked the tiger, and went his way. Then he met the alligator who took him across the river. The alligator said, "Did you ask your fate why there is such burning in my stomach?" "I did," said the man. "It is because you have a very large ruby in your stomach. If you will only throw it up, you will be quite well." Then the alligator threw the ruby up out of its mouth, and that very instant the burning in its stomach ceased. "Ah," said the alligator, looking at the ruby, "I swallowed that one day when I was drinking." And he gave the ruby to the man, saying, "In return for your kindness I will give you this ruby. It is a very precious stone." (In old days every Raja possessed such a ruby; now very few Rajas, if any, have one.) The poor man thanked the alligator, put the ruby into his cloth, and went on his way till he came to the camel, who said, "Did you ask your fate why I have to carry these two sacks of gold?" "I did," said the man, and he took the sacks off the camel's back. How happy and grateful the camel felt! "How kind of you," he said to the man, "to take the sacks off. Now I can eat, now I can drink, and now I can lie down. Because you have been so kind to me, I give you the two sacks of gold, and I will carry them and your bundle home to your house for you, and then I will come back and live here in the jungle." Then the poor man put the two sacks of gold and his bundle on the camel, who carried them to his house. When he got there, he took the sacks and his bundle off the camel, who thanked him again for his kindness and went back to his jungle, feeling very glad at having got rid of his heavy burthen.

When the poor man's wife and children saw the gold and jewels and the ruby, they cried, "Where did you get these?" And the man told them his whole story. And he bought food for his wife and children, and gave them a beautiful house, and got them clothes, for now he was very rich.

Another poor man who was not quite, but nearly, as poor as this man had been, asked him where he had got his riches. "I got them out of a river," answered the man. "I drew the water with a bucket, and in every bucketful there was gold." The other man started off to the river and began drawing up water in a bucket. "Stop, stop!" cried an alligator, who was the king of the fishes; "you are taking all the water out of the river and my fishes will die." "I want money," said the man, "and I can find none, so I am taking the water out of the river in order to get some." "You shall have some in a minute," said the alligator, "only do stop drawing the water." Then a great wave of water dashed on to the land and dashed back into the river, leaving behind it a great heap of gold, which the man picked up joyfully. The next day he came again, and night and day he drew water out of the river. At last the alligator got very angry, and said, "My fishes will all die for want of water. Once I gave the man a heap of gold, and yet he wants more. I won't give him any," and the alligator thrust up his head out of the river, and swallowed the man whole. For four days and four nights the man lived in the alligator's stomach. At the end of the fourth night the king of the fishes said to him, "I will let you get out of my stomach on condition that you tell no man what has happened to you. If you do, you will die instantly." The man jumped out of the alligator's mouth and walked towards his house. On his way he met some men and told them what had happened to him, and as soon as he got home he told his wife and children, and the moment he had done so he became mad and dumb and blood came out of his mouth, and he fell down dead.

Told by Dunkni.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

XIII.

THE UPRIGHT KING.

There was a great Maharaja whose name was Harchand Raja, and he had an only son called Manikchand. He was very rich and had a great deal of money, and he also had a very large garden full of lovely flowers and fruits which he prized greatly. Every morning before he bathed he used to give some poor fakir two pounds and a half of gold. Now Harchand Maharaja used to pray a great deal to God, and God was very fond of him, so he said one day, "To see if Harchand Maharaja really loves me, I will make him very poor for twelve years." And at night God came down in the shape of a great boar, and ate up everything that was in Harchand Maharaja's garden. The boar then ran away into the jungle. Next morning the gardener got up and looked out into the garden, and what was his astonishment when he saw it was all spoilt. Nothing was left in it; it was not a garden any more. He went quickly to the Maharaja and said, "Oh, master! oh, Maharaja! your garden is quite spoilt. Last night a boar came and ate up everything in it." "Nonsense," said the Maharaja, who would not believe him. "It is quite true," said the gardener; "you can come and see for yourself." So the Raja got up at once and put on his clothes, and went into the garden, and found it all empty. He went back to the house very melancholy. Then as usual he gave a fakir his two pounds and a half of gold. After breakfast he went out hunting. The boar which had run away into the wood changed himself into a very old fakir, who shook from old age. As Harchand Maharaja passed, the old fakir held out his hand, saying, "Please give me a few pice, I am so poor and hungry." The Maharaja said, "Come to my palace and I will give you two pounds and a half of gold." "Oh, no," said the fakir, "surely you would never give me so much as that." "Yes, I will," said the Maharaja. "Every morning before I bathe I give a fakir two pounds and a half of gold." "Nonsense," said the fakir, "you don't give away your money in that way." "Really, I do," said the Maharaja, "and I promise to give you two pounds and a half of gold." So the fakir followed Harchand Maharaja home, and when they reached the palace, the Maharaja told his treasurer to give the old fakir two pounds and a half of gold. The treasurer went into the treasury, but all the Maharaja's gold and silver and jewels had become charcoal! The treasurer came out again to the Maharaja saying, "Oh, Maharaja, all your gold and silver and jewels are turned into charcoal!" "Oh, nonsense," said the Maharaja. "Come and see, Maharaja," said the treasurer, who was in a great fright. The Maharaja went into his treasury, and was quite sad at the sight of the charcoal. "Alas!" he said, "God has made me very poor, but still I must give this fakir his money." So he went to the fakir and said, "All my gold and silver and jewels are turned into charcoal; but I will sell my wife, and my boy, and myself, and then I will give you the money I promised you." And he went and fetched his wife and son, and left his palace, his houses, servants, and possessions.

He then went to a merchant, who bought from him his Maharani, who was called Hirali, that is, the diamond lady, for she was very beautiful, and her face shone like a diamond. Her hands were very small, and so were her feet. The merchant gave the Maharaja a pound of gold for the Maharani. Next, Harchand Maharaja went to a cowherd and sold him his son Manikchand. The cowherd gave him for the boy half a pound of gold. Then he went to a dom, that is, a man of a very low caste, who kept a tank into which it was his business to throw the bodies of those who died. If it was a dead man or woman, the dom took one rupee, if it was a dead child he was only paid eight annas. To this dom Harchand sold himself for a pound of gold, and he gave the two pounds and a half of gold to the fakir, who then went home. The dom said, "Will you stay by the tank for a few days while I go home and do my other work, which is weaving baskets? If any one brings you a dead body you must throw it into the water. If it is the body of a man or woman, take one rupee in payment; if it is a dead child, take eight annas; and if the bearers have got no money, take a bit of cloth. Don't forget." And the dom went away, leaving Harchand sitting by the tank.

Well, Harchand Maharaja sat for some days by the tank, and when any one brought him dead bodies he threw them into it. For a dead man or woman he took one rupee, for a dead child eight annas, and if the bearers had no money to give him, he took some cloth. Some time had passed, and Manikchand, the Maharaja's son, died; so Hirali Rani went to the cowherd to ask him for her dead child. The cowherd gave him to her, and she took him to the tank. Harchand Maharaja was sitting by the tank, and when Hirali Maharani saw him she said, "I know that man is my husband, so he will not take any money for throwing his child into the water." So she went up to him and said, "Will you throw this child into the tank for me?" "Yes, I will," said Harchand Maharaja; "only first give me eight annas." "You surely won't take any money for throwing your own son into the tank?" said the Maharani. "You must pay me," said Harchand Maharaja, "for I must obey the dom's orders. If you have no money, give me a piece of cloth." So the Maharani tore off a great piece of her sari and gave it him, and the Maharaja took his son and threw him into the tank. As he threw him in he cried out to the king of the fishes, who was an alligator, "Take great care of this body." The king of fishes said, "I will." Then the Maharani went back to the merchant.

And the Maharaja caught a fish, and cooked it, and laid it by the tank, saying, "I will go and bathe and then I will eat it." So he took off his clothes and went into the tank to bathe, and when he had bathed he put on fresh clothes, and as he took hold of his fish to eat it, it slipped back alive into the water, although it had been dead and cooked. The Maharaja sat down by the tank again, very sad. He said, "For twelve years I have found it hard to get anything to eat; how long will God keep me without food?" God was very pleased with Harchand for being so patient, for he had never complained.

Some days later God came down to earth in the shape of a man, and with him he took an angel to be his Wazir. The Wazir said to God, "Come this way and let us see who it is sitting by the tank." "No," said God, "I am too tired, I can go no further." "Do come," said the Wazir; "I want so much to go." God said, "Well, let us go." Then they walked on till they came to the place where Harchand Maharaja was sitting, and God said to him, "Would you like to have your wife, and your son, and your kingdom back again?" "Yes, I should," said the Maharaja; "but how can I get them?" "Tell me truly," said God, "would you like to have your kingdom back again?" "Indeed I should," said the Maharaja. Then Manikchand's body, which had never sunk to the bottom of the tank like the other bodies, but had always floated on the water, rose up out of the water, and Manikchand was alive once more. The father and son embraced each other. "Now," said God, "let us go to the dom." Harchand Maharaja agreed, and they went to the dom and asked him how much he would take for Harchand Maharaja. The dom said, "I gave one pound of gold for him, and I will take two pounds." So they paid down the two pounds of gold. Then they went to the merchant and said to him, "How much will you take for Hirali Rani?" The merchant said, "I gave a pound of gold for her; I will take four pounds." So they paid down the four pounds of gold, took Hirali Rani, and went to the cowherd. "How much will you take for Manikchand?" said they to him. "I gave half a pound of gold for him," answered the cowherd; "I will take one pound." So they paid down the pound of gold, and Harchand Maharaja went home to his palace, taking with him Hirali Rani and Manikchand, after thanking the strange man for his goodness to them. When they reached the palace, the garden was in splendid beauty; the charcoal was turned back into gold, and silver, and jewels; the servants were in waiting as usual, and they went into the palace and lived happily for evermore.