They all lived in the dry well without any food till the little prince was five years old. By that time he was very quick and clever. One day he said to his mother, "Why have we lived all this while in the well?" His mother and all the other wives told him about the wicked demon who lived in his father's palace, and how the king believed her to be a beautiful girl and had married her, and of all the evil things that she had done to them, and how she had made the king send them to the jungle and have their eyes cut out and given to her, and how from not being able to see they had fallen into this well, and how they had eaten all his brothers, because they were so very hungry they thought they should die—all but his mother at least, for she would not eat the other wives' children and would not kill her own little son. "Let me climb out of this well," said the boy, who determined in his heart that he would kill this wicked demon one day. His mother said, "No, stay here; you are too young to leave the well."

The boy did not listen to her, but scrambled out. Then he saw they were in a wide plain in the jungle. He ran after a few birds, caught and killed them. Then he roasted the birds and brought them with some water to his seven mothers in the well. When they had eaten them and drunk the water, they were happy and worshipped God. The six mothers who had eaten their children were full of sorrow, and said, "If our six sons were now living, how good it would be for us: how happy we should be." The young prince went out hunting for little birds every day, and in the evening he cooked those he caught and brought them, with water, to his mothers.

Now the demon, because she was a demon and was therefore wiser than men and women, knew that the seven queens lived in the well, and that the son of the youngest queen was still alive. She determined to kill him; so she pretended her eyes hurt her, and began crying, and making a great to-do. The king asked her, "What is the matter?" "See, king, see my eyes," she said. "They ache and hurt me so much." "What medicine will make them well again?" said the king. "If I could only bathe them with a tigress's milk, they would be well," she answered.

The king called two of his servants and said to them, "Can either of you get me a tigress's milk? Here are two thousand rupees for whichever of you brings me the milk." Then he gave them the rupees, and told them to get it at once.

The servants took the rupees, and said nothing to the king, but they said to each other, "How can we get a tigress's milk?" And they were very sad. They left the king's country, and wandered on till they came to the jungle-plain, where lived the young prince and his mothers. There they saw him sitting by a dry well and roasting birds. "Do you live in this jungle?" they said to him. "Yes," answered the boy. Then the servants talked together. "See," they said, "this boy lives in the jungle, so he will surely be able to get us the milk. Let us tell him to get it, and give him the two thousand rupees."

So they came back to the boy, who asked them where they were going. "Our queen is very ill with pain in her eyes, and our king has sent us for some tigress's milk for her to bathe them with, that they may get well. He has given us two thousand rupees, for whichever of us to keep who gets the milk. But we do not know where or how to get it."

"Good," said the boy; "give me the two thousand rupees and I will get it for you. Come here for it in a week's time."

The king's servants were very much pleased at not having to try and get it themselves, so they gave him the rupees and went home. The demon knew quite well when she asked for the milk that none of the king's servants would dare to go for it, but that his son would be brave enough to go. This is why she asked for it, for she meant the tigers to kill him.

The little prince now took his seven mothers out of the well, and they all went together to his father's country. There he got a small house for them, and good clothes and food. He got a servant, too, for them, to cook their dinner and take care of them. "Be very tender to them," he said to the servant, "for they cannot see." For himself he bought a little horse, and good clothes, and a gun, and a sword. Then he made his mothers many salaams, and told them he was going to get a tigress's milk. They all cried and begged him not to go.

But he set off and rode for three or four days through the jungles. Then he came to a large jungle which was in a great blaze, and two tiger-cubs were running about in the jungle trying to get out of the fire. He jumped off his horse, and took them in his hands; then he mounted his horse again and rode out of the jungle. He rode on till he came to another which was not on fire. He let the cubs loose in it that they might run away; but they placed themselves in front of his horse, and said, "We will not let you go till you have seen our father and mother."

Meanwhile the tiger and tigress saw the boy coming with their cubs, and they came running to meet them. Till then they had thought their cubs were burned in the jungle-fire. Now they knew at once this boy had saved them. The cubs said to their father and mother, "We should have died had it not been for this boy. Give him food; and when he has eaten some food, we will drink milk." The tigers were very happy at having their children safe. They went to a garden and got food and good water for the boy, who ate and drank. Then the little cubs drank their mother's milk.

The tiger said to the prince, "You are such a little child, how is it your mother let you come alone to this jungle?"

"My mother's eyes are sore and pain her; and the doctor says that if she bathes them in a tigress's milk they will get well. So I came to see if I could get a little for her."

"I will give you some," said the tigress, and she gave him a little jar full of her milk. The cubs said, "One of us will go with you, and the other will stay with our father and mother." "No," said the little prince, "do you both stay with your father and mother. I will not take either of you away. What should I do with you?" "No," said one of the cubs; "I will go with you. I will do all you tell me. Wherever you bid me stay, there I will stay; and I will eat any food you give me." "Take him with you," said the old tiger; "one day you will find him of use." So the boy took the cub and the milk, and made his salaam to the old tigers and went home. His mothers were delighted at his return, though, as they had no eyes, they could not see him.

He tied up the tiger's cub and fed him. Then he took a little of the milk, and went to the dry well in the jungle and sat down by it. The king's servants came when the week had passed, and the boy gave them the milk. The servants took it to the king, who gave it to the demon. She was very angry when she found the tigers had not eaten the boy; but she bathed her eyes with the milk, and said nothing.

At the end of another week she would not eat or drink, and did nothing but cry. "What is the matter?" said the king. "See how my eyes pain me," she answered. "If I could only get an eagle's feather to lay on them they would be well. Oh, how they hurt me!"

The king called his servants and gave them four thousand rupees. "Go and get me an eagle's feather," he said, "and he who gets it is to take the four thousand rupees." "Let us go to the jungle well," they said, "and find the boy who got us the tigress's milk. We could never get an eagle's feather, but this child certainly can get one for us."

So they went to the well where they found the boy. The little prince was very wise, though he was such a little child; and he knew the demon would try to send him on some other errand that she might get rid of him. He was quite willing to go on her errands, for he thought he might thus learn how to kill her. He was not a bit afraid of being killed himself, for he knew that God loved him, and that no one but God could kill him.

He at once asked the king's servants, "What do you want now?" "Our king has sent us for an eagle's feather to lay on the queen's eyes, which pain her again. Here are four thousand rupees for you if you will get it for us." "Give me the rupees," said the king's son. "Come here in two weeks, and I will give you the feather."

He took the rupees to his mothers, and told them he was going to fetch an eagle's feather. "Where will you find one?" they said. "I don't know," he answered, "but I am going to look for one." He hired some more servants, and told them to take care of his mothers and the tiger-cub.

He rode straight on for two or three days, and at last came to a very dense jungle, through which he rode for another three or four days. When he got out of it he found himself on a beautiful smooth plain in which was a tank. There, too, was a large fig-tree, and under the tree cool shade, and cool, thick grass. He was very much pleased when he saw the tank and the tree. He got off his horse, bathed in the tank, and sat down under the fig-tree, thinking, "Here I will sleep a little while before I go further."

While he lay asleep in the grass, a great snake crawled up the tree, at the top of which were two young eagles. They began screaming very loud. Their cries awakened the little prince. He looked about and saw the great snake in the tree. Then he took his gun and fired at it, and the snake fell dead to the ground. He cut it into five pieces, and hid them in the long grass. Then he lay down again and went to sleep.

The baby eagles were alone in the tree, as their father and mother had gone to another country. But now the old birds came home, and found the king's son sleeping in the grass. "See," they said, "here is the thief who every year robs us of our children! But now he cannot get away. We will kill him." However, they thought it better to go and look first at their children, to see if they were safe or not. They flew up to the top of the tree, and when they found their children safe, they wished to give them food. All the time they kept saying, "Eat; then we will kill the thief who steals away our children every year." The young eagles thought, "Oh, if God would only give us the power to speak, then we would tell our father and mother that this boy is no thief." Then God gave them the power to speak, and they said to the old eagles, "Listen; if that boy had not been here, we should have died, for he killed a huge snake that was going to swallow us: only go and look, and you will see it dead and cut into pieces." And the eaglets refused to eat till the boy had been fed.

The big eagles flew down and found the bits of the snake: so they flew away to a beautiful garden, where they got delicious fruits and water. These they brought to the boy, and awoke him and fed him. Then they said to him, "It is indeed good to find our children alive. Hitherto our children have always been eaten by that snake. How are your father and mother? Why did they let you come to this jungle? What have you come here for?" The little prince said, "My mother's eyes are very sore; but they would be cured if she could have an eagle's feather to lay on them. So I came to look for one." Then the mother gave him one of her feathers.

When the boy was going home, the eaglets said they would go with him. "No," he said, "I will not take you with me." But the old birds said, "Take one of them, it will help you one day." The little prince made his salaam to the big eagles, and took one of their young ones, mounted his horse, and rode off. The eaglet flew over his head to shade him from the sun.

When he got home to his seven mothers, he took the feather and went and sat by the dry well. The king's servants came there to him, and he gave them the feather, and said, "Take it to your king." This they did, and the king gave it to the demon, who flew into a great rage. She said to herself, "The tigers did not kill him, and now the eagles have not killed him."

At the end of two weeks she began to cry and would not eat. The king asked her, "What is the matter with you? what has happened to you?" "My eyes pain me so much," she said. "What will cure them?" said the king. "If I had only some night-growing rice," she said, "I would boil it, and make rice-water, which I would drink. Then I should get well." Now this night-growing rice was a wonderful rice that no men, and only one demon, possessed. This was the demon-queen's brother. He used to put a grain of this rice into his huge cavern of a mouth at night when he went to sleep, and when he woke in the morning this grain would have become a tree. Then the demon used to take the rice-tree out of his mouth.

The demon, who seemed such a lovely girl, now wrote a letter to her brother, in which she said, "The bearer of this letter goes to you for some night-growing rice. You must kill him at once; you must not let him live." The king gave this letter to his servants, with six thousand rupees. "Take this letter," he said, "and fetch some of the night-growing rice. Here are six thousand rupees for whichever of you finds it." The king had no idea that it was not these men who had gone for the tigress's milk and the eagle's feather.

The servants said, "Let us go to the well, to the boy who has helped us before. We don't know where to get this night-growing rice, but that boy is sure to know."

The boy was sitting by the well, and asked what they wanted. They answered, "See, the king has given us six thousand rupees and a letter, and told us to fetch him some night-growing rice." "Very good," said the king's son. "Come here in three weeks' time, and I will give you some." The servants gave him the rupees and returned home.

He took the rupees to his mothers, and told them he was going on a fresh errand, and they were to keep the money. Then he made them salaams, took his letter, and rode off. The eaglet went too, and flew above his head. The tiger's cub he left at home.

He rode on and on through a very large jungle, and he rode a long, long way: at last in a jungle he saw a fakir, who was living in it. He made him salaams, and the fakir was delighted to see him, "because," he said, "for many years I have been in this country, and all that time have never seen any man." The prince sat down by the fakir, and the fakir was very much pleased. He asked the boy who had sent him to the jungle, and why he had come to it. "My mother has sore eyes," he answered, "and wants some night-growing rice. She has given me a letter to the man who owns it."

The fakir took and read the letter, and was very sorry. He tore it up and threw it away. Then he wrote another, in which he said, "Your sister is very ill, and her son has come for some night-growing rice for her." This he gave to the boy, and told him to continue his journey. He also told him that the man who had the rice was a huge demon, and that he lived in the country by the great sea. Then he told him the way.

The boy rode on and on, and after a week's journeying he came to the demon's country. There he saw the huge demon sitting on the ground, with his great, big mouth, that was just like a cavern. As soon as the demon saw him he stood up and said, "It is many days since a man came here. Now I will eat this one." He went towards the prince to seize him, and a great rushing wind came blowing from the demon, as it always did when he was angry. But the boy, who had begun to walk towards him when he stood up, threw the letter to him with all his might, so that it fell on him; at the same time he made many salaams. The demon read the letter, and found his sister was very ill, and this was her son; so he stopped the wind, and came up to the boy, who he thought was his sister's son. "You have come for the rice for my sister who is ill," he said to him; "you shall have it."

The demon had a splendid house full of beautiful things, and a great many servants. He took the little prince home with him, and told his servants to get water ready and gave the child a bath. They were also to cook a good dinner for him. Then the demon showed the boy all his gardens, and all his beautiful things, and took him through all the rooms of his house. One room he did not show to the prince. He told him he was never to go into it, though he might go everywhere else that he liked. In this room lived the demon's daughter, who was very beautiful, just like a fairy. She was ten years old. Every day before her father went out, he used to make the girl lie on her bed, and cover her with a sheet, and he placed a thick stick at her head, and another at her feet; then she died till he came home in the evening and changed the sticks, putting the one at her head at her feet, and the one at her feet at her head. This brought her to life again.

The next day, when the demon had gone out, the boy went to this room, and opened the door, for he wanted to see what was in it. He went in, and saw the beautiful girl lying on the bed. "How lovely she is!" he said; "but she is dead." Then he saw the sticks, and, to amuse himself, he put the one at her head at her feet, and the one at her feet at her head, just as the demon did every evening. The girl at once came to life, and opened her eyes and got up. "Who is this?" she said to herself, when she saw the king's son. "This is not my father." She asked him, "Who are you? Why do you come here? If my father sees you he will eat you." "No, he won't," said the prince, "for I am your aunt's son, and your father himself brought me to his house. But why is it that you are dead all day, and alive all night?" The girl had told him that her father brought her to life every evening, and made her dead every morning. "Such is my father's pleasure," she answered.

So they talked together all day, and he said to her, "Suppose one day your father made you dead as usual, and that he was killed before he had brought you to life, what would you do? You would always be dead then." "Listen," she said; "no one can kill my father." "Why not?" said the boy. "Listen," she answered; "on the other side of the sea there is a great tree, in that tree is a nest, in the nest is a maina. If any one kills that maina, then only will my father die. And if, when the maina is killed, its blood falls to the ground, a hundred demons would be born from the blood. This is why my father cannot be killed."

At evening, before the demon came home, the prince made the girl dead. Then he went softly into another room.

The fakir had said to the boy, when they were in the jungle together, "If ever you are in trouble, come to me and I will help you. It will take you now one week to ride to the demon's country; but if ever you need me, you shall be able to come to me here in this jungle, and to return to the demon's house in one day." The fakir was such a holy man that everything he said should happen did happen. So now the prince determined he would go to the fakir and ask him what he should do to kill this maina. In the morning, therefore, as soon as the demon had gone out, he set off for the fakir's jungle, and, thanks to the holy man's power, he got there very quickly. He told him everything, and the fakir made a paper boat which he gave him. "This boat will take you over the sea," he said to the prince. "This paper boat!" said the boy. "How can a paper boat go over the sea? It will get soaked and sink." "No, it will not," said the fakir. "Launch it on the sea, and get into it. The boat will of itself carry you to the tree where the maina's nest is."

The prince took the boat, and went back to the demon's house. He got there before the demon came home, so that he did not know the boy had been to the fakir. When the demon returned that evening, the king's son said, "To-morrow I will go home, as my mother is very ill. Will you give me the rice?" "Good," said the demon, "you shall have it to-morrow." Next morning he gave the rice, and went off to the jungle.

Then the boy took his paper boat down to the sea, launched it, and got into it; and of itself the boat went straight over the sea to the opposite shore. The eaglet flew above his head; but he left his horse on land. When he got to the other side, he saw the great tree, with the nest and the maina. He climbed the tree, and took down the nest, and the demon, who was far away, knew it at once, and said to himself, "Some one has come to catch and kill me." He set out at once for the tree. The prince saw him coming, so he wrapped the maina up in his handkerchief, that no blood should fall to the ground. Then he broke off one of its legs, and one of the demon's legs fell off. Still the demon came on. Then he broke off the other leg, but the demon walked on his hands. The boy saw him coming nearer and nearer, so he wrung the bird's head off, and the demon fell dead.

The prince jumped into his paper boat, and of itself the boat went straight back to the other shore, to the demon's country. Then he went up to the demon's house, and made his daughter alive.

She was frightened, and said to him, "Oh, take care. If my father comes back, and finds us together, he will eat us both." "He will not come back," said the prince. "I have killed him."

Then he dressed her in boy's clothes, that no one might know she was a girl, and he found a horse, and had it made ready for her. Her father had collected a quantity of rupees. Some of these the prince gave to the servants as a present, and said to them, "Stay here and be happy; do not be afraid, for there is no demon now to come and eat you."

Then he took the rice and mounted his horse, and made the girl mount also, and went off to the fakir. The paper boat he left, as he did not want it any more. He and the demon's daughter made the fakir many salaams, and they stayed with him for a day before they rode to the prince's country. Here they went to his seven mothers, who were very, very glad to see them, and thanked God that their son had come back safe.

He took a little of the rice, and went and sat by the well till the king's two servants came. Then he gave them the rice for their king, and the king gave it to the demon. She said nothing while the king was with her; but when she was alone she cried, for she knew the boy must have killed her brother, as he had brought her the rice.

She waited a week, and then she began to cry again, and would not eat. The king was very sorry, and thought, "What can I do to make her well and happy?" Then he said, "What will cure your eyes?" "See, king," she answered, "if I could only bathe my eyes with water from the Glittering Well, they would not pain me any more." This well was in the fairies' country, and was guarded by the demon's sister, whose name was Jangkatar. She lived in the well; and when any one came to draw water from it, she used to drag him down and eat him.

The king called his servants, gave them eight thousand rupees, and said, "Go and fetch me water from the Glittering Well." The servants went at once to the dry well in the jungle. There they found the prince, who asked them what they wanted. "Here are eight thousand rupees," they said; "and the king has ordered us to bring him water from the Glittering Well." "Come in three weeks, and I will give it to you," said the king's son. He took to his mothers the eight thousand rupees which the servants had given him, and said to them, "Take care of these rupees, for I am going away for a little while." Then he got his horse ready and mounted it, and made many salaams to his mothers. The tiger-cub said to him, "Take me with you this time. Last time you only took the eagle. Now we will both go with you."

So he rode off; and the eaglet flew above his head and the young tiger ran by his side. It took him a week to get to the fairies' country, and then he came to a beautiful smooth plain, in which was a garden, but no house. In the middle of this garden was the Glittering Well. It was a deep well, and the water sprang up out of it like a fountain, and then fell back into the well, and the water shone and sparkled as if it were gold, and silver, and diamonds. This is why it was called the Glittering Well.

The prince dipped his jar in the well, and Jangkatar put up her hand and caught him. She dragged him into the water and swallowed him whole. Then the young eagle flew down into the well, seized Jangkatar in his talons, and took her out and threw her on the ground. The tiger-cub rushed at her instantly, tore her open, and pulled the king's son out of her. But he was half dead. The cub and the eaglet lay down on him to warm him, and when they had warmed him, he was better.

"We have saved you," they said to him. "But for us you would have died." The young prince thanked them and caressed them. "It is quite true," he said; "without you I should have died." Then he filled his jar with water, and mounted his horse and rode home. He made salaams to his seven mothers, with whom all this time the demon's daughter had stayed. He bathed his mothers' eyes with the water from the Glittering Well, and then they saw perfectly once more.

He took a little of the water, and went to wait for the king's servants by the dry jungle well, and he was very happy thinking that now his mothers could see. He gave the water to the king's servants, who took it to the king, and the king gave it to his demon-wife, and she was very sad and angry, for she knew the boy must have killed her sister, the guardian of the Glittering Well.

When a whole month had passed, and he had not been sent on any more errands, the king's son said to himself, "Good; now nothing more is going to happen to me. I am not to be sent anywhere else." So he bought a fine horse and grand clothes, and rode to the king's court-house. He went in, and seated himself at the king's right hand; but he made no salaam to the king, and spoke to no one. This he did every day for three days. Everybody was wondering who this boy was, and why he never made any salaam to the king.

On the fourth day, as he sat at the king's right hand, the king asked him, "Whose child are you? Where do you come from? Where are you going?" The young prince answered, "See, king, I am a merchant's son; my ship has been wrecked, and I want to find service with some one." "What can you do?" asked the king. "I don't know any trade," said his son; "but I can tell you a story." "What wages do you want?" said the king. "One thousand rupees a day," answered the boy. "I shall only stay a short time in your country." "Good," said the king; "I will give you one thousand rupees a day, and a servant to wait on you besides. So come every day to my court-house, and tell me your story."

The prince told the king his own story. He began from where the king found the beautiful demon-girl crying in the jungle, and ended it where his demon-wife cried and cried for her sister Jangkatar. It took him three weeks to tell the story; and when he had finished it, the king knew that he himself was the king in the story, and that this boy was his own son. "How can I find my seven queens again?" he said. "If you will kill this wicked demon-woman they will come back to you," said his son. The king was very sad, and thought, "My seven wives and my boy must have suffered very much." Then he loved his son, and was very happy that he had found him. He ordered his servants to dig a deep pit in the jungle, so deep that should his demon-wife take her demon form when put into it, only her head would be above it. He thought that if her body were buried in the ground she would not be able to do them much harm while they were shooting her. Then he, and his son, and his servants took their guns and bows and arrows, and took the demon with them to the deep pit. She went quite quietly, though she knew they were going to kill her. Since Jangkatar's death she had been very quiet and sad. And now she thought, "That boy will most certainly kill me as he has killed my sister and brother. He is stronger than I am. I have no one else to send him to; and if I had, he could not be killed. What is the use of my trying to save myself?" So she went along quite quietly, looking like a beautiful girl. She let them put her into the pit, and shoot her to death with their guns and bows and arrows. Then they filled the pit up with earth.

The king went to his seven wives, and begged them to forgive him. He brought them, his son, and the demon's daughter home to his palace. Later the king married his son to the demon's daughter, and every one was glad.

But the king grieved that his six other sons were dead.

Told by Muniya.



[Decoration]

XXV.

THE FAN PRINCE.

In a country there lived a king who had a wife and seven daughters. One day he called all his daughters to him, and said to them, "My children, who gives you food? and by whose permission do you eat it?" Six of them answered, "Father, you give us food; and by your permission we eat it." But the seventh and youngest said, "Father, God gives me my food; and by my own permission I eat it." This answer made her father and mother very angry with their youngest daughter. They said, "We will not let our youngest child stay with us any longer." And her father called some servants and said to them, "Get a palanquin ready, and put my youngest daughter into it; then carry her away to the jungle, and there leave her."

The servants got the palanquin ready, put the youngest princess into it, and carried her into the jungle. There they put the palanquin down and said to her, "We are going to drink some water." "Go home now," said the girl, "as my father ordered you to do." They left her, therefore, in the jungle alone, and went back to the king's palace.

The girl prayed to God and worshipped him; then she went to sleep for a little while in her palanquin. When she awoke, it was evening, and she found in her palanquin a jar of water and some food on a plate which God had sent her while she slept. She knew that God had sent her this nice dinner, and thanked him and worshipped him. Then she bathed her face and hands in a little of the water, and ate and drank, and went to sleep quietly in her palanquin as night had come.

This little princess had always been a very gentle girl, and had always done what was right, and been very good, so God loved her dearly. While she slept, therefore, he made a beautiful palace for her on the jungle-plain where she was lying in her palanquin. God made a garden and tank for her, too. When the princess woke in the morning, and got out of her palanquin, she saw the palace standing by its tank in a beautiful garden. "I never saw that palace before," she said. "It was not here last night." She went into the garden, and servants met her and made her salaams. The palace was far finer than her father's; and when she went into it she found it full of servants. "To whom does this palace belong?" she asked. "To you," they answered. "God made all this for you last night, and he sent us to wait on you and be your servants." (Now, they were all men, not angels, that God had sent to take care of her.) The princess thanked God, and worshipped him.

A few days later, her father heard that in the jungle to which he had sent her a beautiful palace and garden and tank had suddenly appeared, and that in this palace she was living; and he said, "Yes; my daughter told me the truth: it is God who gives us everything. I know it is he who gave her this beautiful house." So some time passed, and the princess lived in her palace in the jungle; but her father did not go to see her.

One day he said to himself, "To-day I will go and eat the air in another country, and I will go by water." So he ordered a boat to be got ready, and he went to his six daughters, and told them he was going away for a little while. "What would you like me to bring you from this other country?" he said. "I will bring you anything you would like to have." Some of them wanted jewels, a necklace, a pair of earrings, and so on; and some wanted silk stuffs for saris and other clothes. Then the king remembered his youngest child, and thought, "I must send to her, and see what she would like." He called one of his servants, and told him to go to the jungle to his youngest daughter and say, "Your father is going to eat the air of another country. He wishes to know what you would like him to bring back for you."

The servant found the little princess reading her prayer-book. He gave her the king's message. She said, "Sabr" (that is wait), for she meant him to wait for her answer till she had finished reading her prayers. The servant, however, did not understand, but went away at once to the king and told him, "Your daughter wants you to bring her Sabr." "Sabr?" said the king; "what is Sabr? Never, mind, I will see if I can find any Sabr; and if I do, I will bring it for her."

The king then went in his boat to another country. There he stayed for a little while and bought the jewels and silks for his six elder daughters. When he thought he should like to go home again, he went down to his boat and got into it. But the boat would not move, because he had forgotten one thing; the thing his youngest daughter had asked for.

Suddenly he remembered he had not got any Sabr. So he gave one of his servants four thousand rupees, and told him to go on shore, and go through the bazar, and try and find the Sabr, and he was to give the four thousand rupees for it.

The man went to the bazar and asked every one if they had Sabr to sell. Then he asked if they could tell him what it was. "No," they said, "but our king's son is called Sabr; you had better speak to him."

The servant went to Prince Sabr. "Our king's youngest daughter," he said, "has asked her father to bring her Sabr, and the king has given me four thousand rupees to buy it for her; but I cannot get any, and no one knows what it is." The prince said, "Very good. Give this little box to your king, and tell him to give it to his youngest daughter. But it is only the princess who has asked for Sabr who is to open the box." Then he told the man to keep the four thousand rupees as a present from him.

The servant went back to the boat to the king and gave him the box, saying, "In this is the Sabr," and he told him Prince Sabr said no one but the youngest princess was to open it. And now the boat moved quite easily, and the king journeyed home safely.

He gave his six eldest daughters the presents he had brought for them, and sent the little box to his youngest daughter. She said, "My father has sent me this. I will look at it by and by." Then she put it away and forgot it. At the end of a month she found the little box, and thought, "I will see what my father has sent me," and opened the box. In it was a most lovely little fan. She was very much pleased, and fanned herself with it, and at once a beautiful prince stood before her.

The princess was delighted. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" she said. "My name is Prince Sabr," he answered. "Your father came to my father's country, and he said you had asked him to bring you Sabr, so I gave him this little fan for you. I am obliged to come to whoever uses this little fan with the right side turned outwards. And when you want me to go away, you must turn the right side of the fan towards you and then fan yourself with it." The little princess said, "Very good. And so your name is Prince Sabr?" They talked together for some time. Then she turned her fan, so that the wrong side was outside, and fanned herself with it, and the prince disappeared.

This went on for a month. The princess used to fan herself with the right side turned outwards, and then Prince Sabr came to her. When she turned her fan wrong side outwards and fanned herself, then he vanished.

One day the prince said to her, "I should like to marry you. Will you marry me?" "Yes," she answered. Then she wrote a letter to her father and mother and six sisters, in which she said, "Come to my wedding. I am going to marry Prince Sabr." They all came. Her father was very glad that she married Prince Sabr, and said, "I see it is true that God loves my youngest daughter."

The day of the wedding her six sisters said to her, "To-day we will not let the servants make your bed. We will make it ourselves for you." "I have plenty of servants to make it," she said; "but you can do so if you like." Her sisters went to make the bed. They took a glass bottle and ground it into a powder, and they spread the powder all over the side where Prince Sabr was to lie. This they did because they were angry at their youngest sister being married, while they, who were older, were not married, and they thought, being her elders, they should have married first, especially as they had lived in their father's palace, and been cared for, while she was cast out in the jungle.

When the wedding was over, and Prince Sabr and his wife had gone to bed, the prince became very ill, from the glass powder going into his flesh. "Turn your fan the wrong way and fan yourself quickly, that I may go home to my father's country," he said to her, "for I am very ill, and dare not remain here." So she fanned herself at once with the fan turned the wrong way. Then he went home to his father, and was very ill for a long while. The poor princess knew nothing of the glass powder.

Her father and mother and sisters went home after the wedding, and left the princess alone in her palace. Every day she turned her fan the right side outwards and fanned and fanned herself; but Prince Sabr never came. He was far too ill. One day she cried a great deal, and was very, very sad. "Why does my prince not come to me?" she said. "I don't know where he is, or what has become of him." That night she had a dream, and in her dream she saw Prince Sabr lying very ill on his bed.

When she got up in the morning she thought she must go and try to find her prince. So she took off all her beautiful clothes and jewels, and put on a yogi's dress. Then she mounted a horse and set out in the jungle. No one knew she was a woman, or that she was a king's daughter; every one thought she was a man.

She rode on till night, and then she had come to another jungle. Here she got off her horse, and took it under a tree. She lay down under the tree and went to sleep. At midnight she was awakened by the chattering of a parrot and a maina, who came and sat on the tree knowing she was lying underneath.

The maina said to the parrot, "Parrot, tell me something." The parrot said, "Prince Sabr is very, very ill in his own country. The day he was married, the bride's six sisters took a glass bottle and ground it to powder. Then they spread the powder all over the prince's bed, so that when he lay down it got into his flesh. The glass powder has made him very ill." "What will make him well?" said the maina; "what will cure him?" "No doctors can cure him," said the parrot; "no medicine will do him any good: but if any one slept under this tree, and took some of the earth from under it, and mixed it with cold water, and rubbed it all over Prince Sabr, he would get well."

All this the princess heard. She got up and longed for morning to come. When it was day she took some of the earth, mounted her horse, and rode off. She went on till she came to Prince Sabr's country. Then she asked to whom the country belonged; she was told it was Prince Sabr's father's country, "but Prince Sabr is very ill."

"I am a yogi," said the princess, "and I can cure him." This was told to the king, Prince Sabr's father. "That is very good," he said. "Send the yogi to me." So the little princess went to the king, who said to her, "My son is very, very ill; make him well." "Yes," she said, "I will make him well. Bring me some cold water."

They brought her the cold water, and she mixed it with the earth she had got from under the tree. This she rubbed all over the prince. For three days and nights she rubbed him with it. After that he got better, and in a week he was quite well. He was able to talk, and could walk about as usual.

Then the yogi said, "Now I will go back to my own country." But the king said to her, "First you must let me give you a present. You shall have anything that you like. As many horses, or sepoys, or rupees as you want you shall have; for you have made my son well." "I want nothing at all," said the princess, "but Prince Sabr's ring, and the handkerchief he has with his name worked on it." She had given him both these things on their wedding day. Prince Sabr's father and mother went to their son and begged him to give the handkerchief and ring to the yogi; and he did so quite willingly. "For," he thought, "were it not for that yogi, I should never see my dear princess again."

The yogi took the ring and handkerchief and went home. When she got there, she took off her yogi's dress and put on her own beautiful clothes. Then she turned her fan right side outwards, and fanned herself with it, and immediately her Prince Sabr stood by her. "Why did you not come to me before?" she said. "I have been fanning and fanning myself." "I was very ill, and could not come," said Prince Sabr. "At last a yogi came and made me well, and as a reward I gave him my ring and handkerchief." "It was no yogi," said the princess. "It was I who came to you and made you well." "You!" said the prince. "Oh, no; it was a yogi. You were sitting here in your palace while the yogi came and cured me." "No, indeed," she said; "I was the yogi. See, is not this your ring? is not this your handkerchief with your name worked on it?" Then he believed her, and she told him of her dream, and her journey in the yogi's dress, and the birds' talk, and all that had happened.

And Prince Sabr was very happy that his wife had done so much for him, and they lived happily together.

Told by Muniya.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

XXVI.

THE BED.

In a country there was a grain merchant's son, whose father and mother loved him so dearly that they did not let him do anything but play and amuse himself while they worked for him. They never taught him any trade, or anything at all; for they never reflected that they might die, and that then he would have to work for himself. When he was old enough to be married, they found a wife for him, and married him to her. Then they all lived happily together for some years till the father and mother both died.

Their son and his wife lived for a while on the pice his father and mother had left him. But the wife grew sadder and sadder every day, for the pice grew fewer and fewer. She thought, "What shall we do when they are all gone? My husband knows no trade, and can do no work." One day when she was looking very sorrowful, her husband asked her, "What is the matter? Why are you so unhappy?" "We have hardly any pice left," she answered, "and what shall we do when we have eaten the few we have? You know no trade, and can do no work." "Never mind," said her husband, "I can do some work."

So one day when there were hardly any pice left, he took an axe, and said to his wife, "I am going out to-day to work. Give me my dinner to take with me, and I will eat it out of doors." She gave him some food, wondering what work he had; but she did not ask him.

He went to a jungle, where he stayed all day, and where he ate his dinner. All day long he wandered from tree to tree, saying to each, "May I cut you down?" But not a tree in the jungle gave him any answer: so he cut none down, and went home in the evening. His wife did not ask where he had been, or what he had done, and he said nothing to her.

The next day he again asked her for food to take with him to eat out of doors, "for," he said, "I am going to work all day." She did not like to ask him any questions, but gave him the food. And he took his axe, and went out to a jungle which was on a different side to the one he had been to yesterday. In this jungle also he went to every tree, and said to it, "May I cut you down?" No tree answered him; so he ate his dinner and came home.

The next day he went to a third jungle on the third side. There, too, he asked each tree, "May I cut you down?" But none gave him any answer. He came home therefore very sorrowful.

On the fourth day he went to a jungle on the fourth side. All day long he went from tree to tree, asking each, "May I cut you down?" None answered. At last, towards evening, he went and stood under a mango-tree. "May I cut you down?" he said to it. "Yes, cut me down," answered the tree. God loved the merchant's son and wished him to grow a great man, so he ordered the mango-tree to let itself be cut down.

Now the grain merchant's son was happy, for he was quite sure he could make a bed, if he only had some wood; so he hewed down the mango-tree, put it on his head, and carried it home. His wife saw him coming, and said to herself, "He is bringing home a tree! What can he be going to do with a tree?"

Next morning he took the tree into one of the rooms of his house. He told his wife to put food and water to last him for a week in this room, and to make a fire in it. Then he went up to the room, and said to her, "You are not to come in here for a whole week. You are not to come near me till I call you." Then he went into the room and shut the door. The whole week long his wife wondered what he could be doing all alone in that room. "I cannot see into it," she said to herself, "and I dare not open the door. I wonder what he is about."

By the end of the week the grain merchant's son had carved a most beautiful bed out of the mango-tree. Such a beautiful bed had never been seen. Then he called his wife, and when she came he told her to open the door, and when she opened it he said, "See what a beautiful bed I have made." "Did you make that bed?" she said. "Oh, what a beautiful bed it is! I never saw such a lovely bed!"

He rested that day, and on the day following he took the bed to the king's palace, and sat down with it before the palace gate. The king's servants all came to look at the bed. "What a bed it is!" they said. "Did any one ever see such a bed! It is a beautiful bed. Is it yours?" they asked the merchant's son. "Is it for sale? Who made it? Did you make it?" But he said, "I will not answer any of your questions. I will not speak to any of you. I will only speak to the king." So the servants went to the king and said to him, "There is a man at your gate with a most beautiful bed. But he will not speak to any of us, and says he will only speak to you." "Very good," said the king; "bring him to me."

When the grain merchant's son came before the king with his bed, the king asked him, "Is your bed for sale?" "Yes," he said. "What a beautiful bed it is!" said the king. "Who made it?" "I did," he said. "I made it myself." "How much do you want for it?" said the king. "One thousand rupees," answered the merchant's son. "That is a great deal for the bed," said the king. "I will not take less," said the merchant's son. "Good," said the king, "I will give you the thousand rupees." So he took the bed, and the merchant's son said to him, "The first night you pass on it, do not go to sleep. Take care to keep awake, and you will hear and see something." Then he took the rupees home to his wife, who was frightened when she saw them. "Are those your rupees?" she said. "Where did you find such a quantity of rupees?" "The king gave them to me for my bed," he said. "I am not a thief; I did not steal them." Then she was happy.

That night the king lay down on his bed, and at ten o'clock he heard one of the bed's legs say to the other legs, "Listen, you three. I am going out to see the king's country. Do you all stand firm while I am away, and take care not to let the king fall." "Good," the three legs answered; "go and eat the air, and we will all stand fast, so that the king does not fall while you are away."

Then the king saw the leg leave the bed, and go out of his room door. The leg went out to a great plain, and there it saw two snakes quarrelling together. One snake said, "I will bite the king." The other said, "I will bite him." The first said, "No, you won't; I will climb on to his bed and bite him." "That you will never do," said the second. "You cannot climb on to his bed; but I will get into his shoe, and then when he puts it on to-morrow morning, I will bite his foot."

The bed-leg came back and told the other legs what it had seen and heard. "If the king will shake his shoe before he puts it on to-morrow morning," it said, "he will see a snake drop out of it." The king heard all that was said.

"Now," said the second bed-leg, "I will go out and eat the air of the king's country. Do you all stand firm while I am away." "Go," the others answered; "we will take care the king does not fall." The second bed-leg then went out, and went to another plain on which stood a very old palace belonging to the king, and the wind told it the palace was so ruinous that it would fall and kill the king the first time he went into it: the king had never once had it repaired. So it came back and told the three other legs all about the palace and what the wind had said. "If I were the king," said the second bed-leg, "I would have that palace pulled down. It is quite ready to fall; and the first time the king goes into it, it will fall on him and kill him." The king lay, and listened to everything. As it happened, he had forgotten all about his old palace, and had not gone near it for a long time.

Then the third bed-leg said, "Now I will go out and see all the fun I can. Stand firm, you three, while I am away." He went to a jungle-plain on which lived a yogi. Now there was a sarai[5] not far off in which lived a woman, the wife of a sepoy, whose husband had gone a year ago to another country, leaving her in the sarai. She was so fond of the yogi, that she used to come and talk to him every night. That very day her husband came back to her, and therefore it was later than usual when she got to the yogi; so he was very vexed with her. "How late you are to-night," he said. "It is not my fault," she answered. "My husband came home to-day after having been away a year, and he kept me." "Which of us do you love best?" asked the yogi; "your husband or me?" "I love you best," said the woman. "Then," said the yogi, "go home and cut off your husband's head, and bring it here for me to see." The sepoy's wife went straight to the sarai, cut off her husband's head, and brought it to the yogi. "What a wicked woman you are to do such a thing at my bidding!" he said. "Go away at once. You are a wicked woman, and I do not want to see you." She took the head home, set it again on the body and began to cry. All the people in the sarai came to see what was the matter. "Thieves have been here," she said, "and have killed my husband, and cut off his head," and then she cried again. The third bed-leg now went back to the palace, and told the others all it had seen and heard. The king lay still and listened.

The fourth bed-leg next went out to see all it could, and it came to a plain on which were seven thieves, who had just been into the king's palace, and had carried off his daughter on her bed fast asleep; and there she lay still sleeping. They had, too, been into the king's treasury and had taken all his rupees. The fourth bed-leg came quickly back to the palace, and said to the other three legs, "Now, if the king were wise he would get up instantly and go to the plain. For some thieves are there with his daughter and all his rupees which they have just stolen out of his palace. If he only made haste and went at once, he would get them again."

The king got up that minute, and called his servants and some sepoys, and set off to the plain. He shook his shoe before he put it on, and out tumbled the snake (the other had quietly gone into the jungle, and not come to the palace); so he saw that the first bed-leg had spoken the truth.

When he reached the plain he found his daughter and his rupees, and brought them back to his palace. The princess slept all the time, and did not know what had happened to her. The king saw the fourth leg had told the truth. The thieves he could not catch, for they all ran away when they saw him coming with his sepoys.

The king sent men to the old palace to pull it down. They found it was just going to fall, and would have fallen on any one who had entered it, and crushed him. So the second bed-leg had told the truth.

When the king was sitting in his court-house he heard how during the night thieves had gone into the sarai and killed a sepoy there and cut off his head. Then he sent for the sepoy's wife, and asked her who had killed her husband. "Thieves," she said. The king was very angry, for he was sure the third bed-leg had told the truth as the other three legs had done. So he ordered the man to be buried; and bade his servants make a great wooden pile on the plain, and take the woman and burn her on it. They were not to leave her as long as she was alive, but to wait till she was dead.

He next sent for the grain merchant's son, and said to him, "Had it not been for your bed, I should this morning have been bitten by a snake; and, perhaps, killed by my old palace falling on me, as I did not know it was ready to fall, and so might have gone into it. My daughter would certainly have been stolen from me; and a wicked woman been still alive. So now, to-morrow, bring as many carts as you like, and I will give you as a present as many rupees as you can take away on them in half a day."

Early the next morning the merchant's son brought his cart and took away on them as many rupees as he could in half a day. His wife was delighted when she saw the money, and said, "My husband only worked for one week, and yet he earned all these rupees!" And they lived always happily.

Told by Muniya, February 23rd, 1879.

FOOTNOTE:

[5] That is, a resting-place for travellers, composed of a number of small houses in a walled enclosure.

[Decoration]



[Decoration]

XXVII.

PANWPATTI RANI.

In a country a big fair was held, to which came a great many people and Rajas from all the countries round. Among them was a Raja who brought his daughter with him. Opposite their tent another tent was pitched, in which lived a Raja's son. He was very beautiful; so was the little Rani, the other Raja's daughter.

Now, the Raja's son and the Raja's daughter did not even know each other's names, but they looked at each other a great deal, and each thought the other very beautiful. "How lovely the Raja's daughter is!" thought the prince. "How beautiful the Raja's son is!" thought the princess.

They lived opposite each other for a whole month, and all that time they never spoke to each other nor did they speak of each other to any one. But they thought of each other a great deal.

When the month was over, the little Rani's father said he would go back to his own country. The Raja's son sat in his tent and watched the servants getting ready the little Rani's palanquin. As soon as the princess herself was dressed and ready for the journey, she came out of her tent, and took a rose in her hand. She first put the rose to her teeth; then she stuck it behind her ear; and lastly, she laid it at her feet. All this time the Raja's son sat in his tent and looked at her. Then she got into her palanquin and was carried away.

The Raja's son was now very sad. "How lovely the princess is!" he thought. "And I do not know her name, or her father's name, or the name of her country. So how can I ever find her? I shall never see her again." He was very sorrowful, and determined he would go home to his country. When he got home he laid himself down on his bed, and night and day he lay there. He would not eat, or drink, or bathe, or change his clothes. This made his father and mother very unhappy. They went to him often, and asked him, "What is the matter with you? Are you ill?" "I want nothing," he would answer. "I don't want any doctor, or any medicine." Not one word did he say to them, or to any one else, about the lovely little Rani.

The son of the Raja's kotwal[6] was the prince's great friend. The two had always gone to school together, and had there read in the same book; they had always bathed, eaten, and played together. So when the prince had been at home for two days, and yet had not been to school or seen his friend, the kotwal's son grew very anxious. "Why does the prince not come to school?" he said to himself. "He has been here for two days, and yet I have not seen him. I will go and find out if anything is the matter. Perhaps he is ill."

He went, therefore, to see the prince, who was lying very miserable on his bed. "Why do you not come to school? Are you ill?" asked his friend. "Oh, it is nothing," said the prince. "Tell me what is the matter," said the kotwal's son; but the Raja's son would not answer. "Have you told any one what is the matter with you?" said the kotwal's son. "No," answered the prince. "Then tell me," said his friend; "tell me the truth: what is it that troubles you?"

"Well," said the prince, "at the fair there was a Raja who had a most beautiful daughter. They lived in a tent opposite mine, and I used to see her every day. She is so beautiful! But I do not know her name, or her father's name, or her country's name; so how can I ever find her?" "I will take you to her," said his friend; "only get up and bathe, and eat." "How can you take me to her?" said the prince. "You do not even know where she is; so how can you take me to her?" "Did she never speak to you?" said the kotwal's son. "Never," said the prince. "But when she was going away, just before she got into her palanquin, she took a rose in her hand; and first she put this rose to her teeth; then she stuck it behind her ear; and then she laid it at her feet." "Now I know all about her," said his friend. "When she put the rose to her teeth, she meant to tell you her father's name was Raja Dant [Raja Tooth]; when she put it behind her ear she meant you to know her country's name was Karnatak [on the ear]; and when she laid the rose at her feet, she meant that her name was Panwpatti [Foot-leaf]. Get up; bathe and dress, eat and drink, and we will go and find her."

The prince got up directly, and told his father and mother he was going for a few days to eat the air of another country. At first they forbad his going; but then they reflected that he had been very ill, and that perhaps the air of another country might make him well; so at last they consented. The prince and his friend had two horses saddled and bridled, and set off together.

At the end of a month they arrived in a country where they asked (as they had asked in every other country through which they had ridden), "What is the name of this country?" "Karnatak" [the Carnatic]. "What is your Raja's name?" "Raja Dant." Then the two friends were glad. They stopped at an old woman's house, and said to her, "Let us stay with you for a few days. We are men from another country and do not know where to go in this place." The old woman said, "You may stay with me if you like. I live all alone, and there is plenty of room for you."

After two or three days the kotwal's son said to the old woman, "Has your Raja a daughter?" "Yes," she answered; "he has a daughter; her name is Panwpatti Rani." "Can you go to see her?" asked the kotwal's son. "Yes," she said, "I can go to see her. I was her nurse, and she drank my milk. It is the Raja who gives me my house, and my food, and clothes—everything that I have." "Then go and see her," said the kotwal's son, "and tell her that the prince whom she called to her at the fair has come."

The old woman went up to the palace, and saw the princess. After they had talked together for some time, she said to the little Rani, "The prince you called to you at the fair is come." "Good," she said; "tell him to come to see me to-night at twelve o'clock. He is not to come in through the door, but through the window." (This she said because she did not want her father to know that the prince had come, until she had made up her mind whether she would marry him.)

The old woman went home and told the kotwal's son what the Princess Panwpatti said. That night the prince went to see her, and every night for three or four nights he went to talk with her for an hour. Then she told her mother she wished to be married, and her mother told her father. Her father asked whom she wished to marry, and she said, "The Raja's son who lives in my nurse's house." Her father said she might marry him if she liked; so the wedding was held. The kotwal's son went to the wedding, and then returned to the old woman's house; but the prince lived in the Raja's palace.

Here he stayed for a month, and all that time he never saw his friend. At last he began to fret for him, and was very unhappy. "What makes you so sad?" said Panwpatti Rani. "I am sad because I have not seen my friend for a whole month," answered her husband. "I must go and see him." "Yes, go and see him," said his wife. The Raja's son went to the old woman's house, and there he stayed a week, for he was so glad to see the kotwal's son. Then he returned to his wife. Now she thought he would only have been away a day, and was very angry at his having stayed so long from her. "How could you leave me for a whole week?" she said to him. "I had not seen my friend for a month," he answered. Panwpatti Rani did not let her husband see how angry she was; but in her heart she thought, "I am sure he loves his friend best."

The prince remained with her for a month. Then he said, "I must go and see my friend." This made her very angry indeed. However, she said, "Good; go and see your friend, and I will make you some delicious sweetmeats to take him from me." She set to work, and made the most tempting sweetmeats she could; only in each she put a strong poison. Then she wrapped them in a beautiful handkerchief, and her husband took them to the kotwal's son. "My Rani has made you these herself," he said to his friend, "and she sends you a great many salaams." The Raja's son knew nothing of the poison.

The kotwal's son put the sweetmeats on one side, and said, "Let us talk, and I will eat them by and by." So they sat and talked for a long time. Then the kotwal's son said, "Your Rani herself made these sweetmeats for me?" "Yes," said the Raja's son. His friend was very wise, and he thought, "Panwpatti Rani does not like me. Of that I am sure." So he took some of the sweetmeats, and broke them into bits and threw them to the crows. The crows came flying down, and all the crows who ate the sweetmeats died instantly. Then the kotwal's son threw a sweetmeat to a dog that was passing. The dog devoured it and fell dead. This put the Raja's son into great rage. "I will never see my Rani again!" he exclaimed. "What a wicked woman she is to try and poison my friend—my friend whom I love so dearly; but for whom I should never have married her!" He would not go back to his wife, and stayed in the old woman's house. The kotwal's son often told him he ought to return to his wife, but the prince would not do so. "No," he said, "she is a wicked woman. You never did her any evil or hurt; yet she has tried to poison you. I will never see her again."

When a month had passed, the kotwal's son said to the prince, "You really must go back to Panwpatti Rani; she is your wife, and you must go to her, and take her away to your own country." Still the Raja's son declared he would never see her again. "If you would like to see something that will please you," said his friend, "go back to your wife for one day; and to-night 'when she is asleep' you must take off all her jewels, and tie them up in a handkerchief, and bring them to me. But before you leave her you must wound her in the leg with this trident." So saying, he gave him a small iron trident.

The prince went back to the palace. His wife was very angry with him, though she did not show her anger. At night 'when she was fast asleep' he took off all her jewels and tied them in a handkerchief, and he gave her a thrust in the leg with his trident. Then he went quickly back to his friend. The princess awoke and found herself badly hurt and alone; and she saw that her jewels were all gone. In the morning she told her father and mother that her jewels had been stolen; but she said nothing about the wound in her leg. The king called his servants, and told them a thief had come in the night and stolen his daughter's jewels, and he sent them to look for the thief and seize him.

That morning the kotwal's son got up and dressed himself like a yogi. He made the prince put on common clothes such as every one wears, so that he could not be recognized, and sent him to the bazar to sell his wife's jewels. He told him, too, all he was to say. The pretended yogi went to the river and sat down by it, and the Raja's son went through the bazar and tried to sell the jewels. The Raja's servants seized him immediately. "You thief!" they said to him, "what made you steal our Raja's daughter's jewels?" "I know nothing about the jewels," said the prince. "I am no thief; I did not steal them. The holy man, who is my teacher, gave them to me to sell in the bazar for him. If you want to know anything more about them, you must ask him." "Where is this holy man?" said the servants. "He is sitting by the river," said the Raja's son. "Let us go to him. I will show you where he is."

They all went down to the river, and there sat the yogi. "What is all this?" said the servants to him. "Are you a yogi, and yet a thief? Why did you steal the little Rani's jewels?" "Are those the little Rani's jewels?" said the yogi. "I did not steal them; I did not know to whom they belonged. Listen, and I will tell you. Last night at twelve o'clock I was sitting by this river when a woman came down to it—a woman I did not know. She took a dead body out of the river, and began to eat it. This made me so angry, that I took all her jewels from her, and she ran away. I ran after her and wounded her in the leg with my trident. I don't know if she were your Raja's daughter, or who she was; but whoever she may be, she has the mark of the trident's teeth in her leg."

The servants took the jewels up to the palace, and told the Raja all the yogi had said. The Raja asked his wife whether the Princess Panwpatti had any hurt in her leg, and told her all the yogi's story. The Rani went to see her daughter, and found her lying on her bed and unable to get up from the pain she was in, and when she looked at her leg she saw the wound. She returned to the Raja and said to him, "Our daughter has the mark of the trident's teeth in her leg."

The Raja got very angry, and called his servants and said to them, "Bring a palanquin, and take my daughter at once to the jungle, and there leave her. She is a wicked woman, who goes to the river at night to eat dead people. I will not have her in my house any more. Cast her out in the jungle." The servants did as they were bid, and left Panwpatti Rani, crying and sobbing in the jungle, partly from the pain in her leg, and partly because she did not know where to go, and had no food or water.

Meanwhile her husband and the kotwal's son heard of her being sent into the jungle, so they returned to the old woman's house and put on their own clothes. Then they went to the jungle to find her. She was still crying, and her husband asked her why she cried. She told him, and he said, "Why did you try to poison my friend? You were very wicked to do so." "Yes," said the kotwal's son; "Why did you try to kill me? I have never done you any wrong or hurt you. It was I who told your husband what you meant by putting the rose to your teeth, behind your ear, and at your feet. Without me he would never have found you, never have married you." Then she knew at once who had brought all this trouble to her, and she was very sorry she had tried to kill her husband's friend.

They all three now went home to her husband's country; and his father and mother were very glad indeed that their son had married a Raja's daughter, and the Raja gave the kotwal's son a very grand present.

The young Raja and his wife lived with his father and mother, and were always very happy together.

Told by Muniya, February, 1879.

FOOTNOTE:

[6] The chief police officer in a town.



[Decoration]

XXVIII.

THE CLEVER WIFE.

In a country there was a merchant who traded in all kinds of merchandise, and used to make journeys from country to country in his boat to buy and sell his goods. He one day said to his wife, "I cannot stay at home any more, for I must go on a year's journey to carry on my business." And he added, laughing, "When I return I expect to find you have built me a grand well; and also, as you are such a clever wife, to see a little son." Then he got into his boat and went away.

When he was gone his wife set to work, and she spun four hanks of beautiful thread with her own hands. Then she dressed herself in her prettiest clothes, and put on her finest jewels. "I am going to the bazar," she said to her ayahs, "to sell this thread." "That is not right," said one of the ayahs. "You must not sell your thread yourself, but let me sell it for you. What will your husband say if he hears you have been selling thread in the bazar?" "I will sell my thread myself," answered the merchant's wife. "You could never sell it for me."

So off she set to the bazar, and every one in it said, "What a beautiful woman that is!" At last the kotwal saw her, and came to her at once.

"What beautiful thread!" he said. "Is it for sale?" "Yes," she said. "How much a hank?" said the kotwal. "Fifty rupees," she answered. "Fifty rupees! Who will ever give you fifty rupees for it?" "I will not sell it for less," said the woman. "I shall get fifty rupees for it." "Well," said the kotwal, "I will give you the fifty rupees. Can I dine with you at your house?" "Yes," she answered, "to-night at ten o'clock." Then he took the thread and gave her fifty rupees.

Then she went away to another bazar, and there the king's wazir saw her trying to sell her thread. "What lovely thread! Is it for sale?" he said. "Yes, at one hundred rupees the hank," she answered. "Well, I will give you one hundred rupees. Can I dine with you at your house?" said the wazir. "Yes," she answered, "to-night at eleven o'clock." "Good," said the wazir; "here are the hundred rupees." And he took the thread and went away.

The merchant's wife now went to a third bazar, and there the king's kazi saw her. "Is that beautiful thread for sale?" he asked. "Yes," she answered, "for one hundred and fifty rupees." "I will give you the hundred and fifty rupees. Can I dine with you at your house?" "Yes," she said, "to-night at twelve o'clock." "I will come," said the kazi. "Here are one hundred and fifty rupees." So she took the rupees and gave him the thread.

She set off with the fourth hank to the fourth bazar, and in this bazar was the king's palace. The king saw her, and asked if the thread was for sale. "Yes," she said, "for five hundred rupees." "Give me the thread," said the king; "here are your five hundred rupees. Can I dine with you at your house?" "Yes," she said, "to-night at two o'clock."

Then she went home and sent one of her servants to the bazar to buy her four large chests; and she told her other servants that they were to get ready four very good dinners for her. Each dinner was to be served in a different room; and one was to be ready at ten o'clock that night, one at eleven, one at twelve, and one at two in the morning. The servant brought her four large chests, and she had them placed in four different rooms.

At ten o'clock the kotwal arrived. The merchant's wife greeted him graciously, and they sat down and dined. After dinner she said to him, "Can you play at cards?" "Yes," he answered. She brought some cards, and they sat and played till the clock struck eleven, when the doorkeeper came in to say, "The wazir is here, and wishes to see you." The kotwal was in a dreadful fright. "Do hide me somewhere," he said to her. "I have no place where you can hide in this room," she answered; "but in another room I have a big chest. I will shut you up in that if you like, and when the wazir is gone, I will let you out of it." So she took him into the next room, and he got into one of the four big chests, and she shut down the lid and locked it.

Then she bade the doorkeeper bring in the wazir, and they dined together. After dinner she said, "Can you play at cards?" "Yes," said the wazir. She took out the cards, and they played till twelve o'clock, when the doorkeeper came to say the kazi had come to see her. "Oh, hide me! hide me!" cried the wazir in a great fright. "If you come to another room," she said, "I will hide you in a big chest I have. I can let you out when he is gone." So she locked the wazir up in the second chest.

She and the kazi now dined. Then she said, "Can you play at cards?" "Yes," said the kazi. So they sat playing at cards till two o'clock, when the doorkeeper said the king had come to see her. "Oh, what shall I do?" said the kazi, terribly frightened. "Do hide me. Do not let me be seen by the king." "You can hide in a big chest I have in another room, if you like," she answered, "till he is gone." And she locked up the kazi in her third chest.

The king now came in, and they dined. "Will you play a little game at cards?" she asked. "Yes," said the king. So they played till three o'clock, when the doorkeeper came running in (just as she had told him to do) to say, "My master's boat has arrived, and he is coming up to the house. He will be here directly." "Now what shall I do?" said the king, who was as frightened as the others had been. "Here is your husband. He must not see me. You must hide me somewhere." "I have no place to hide you in," she said, "but a big chest. You can get into that if you like, and I will let you out to-morrow morning." So she shut the lid of the fourth chest down on the king and locked him up. Then she went to bed, and to sleep, and slept till morning.

The next day, after she had bathed and dressed, and eaten her breakfast, and done all her household work, she said to her servants, "I want four coolies." So the servants went for the coolies; and when they came she showed them the four chests, and said, "Each of you must take one of these chests on your head and come with me." Then they set out with her, each carrying a chest.

Meanwhile the kotwal's son, the wazir's son, the kazi's son, and the king's son, had been roaming about looking everywhere for their fathers, and asking every one if they had seen them, but no one knew anything about them.

The merchant's wife went first to the kotwal's house, and there she saw the kotwal's son. She had the kotwal's chest set down on the ground before his door. "Will you buy this chest?" she said to his son. "What is in it?" he asked. "A most precious thing," she answered. "How much do you want for it?" said his son. "One thousand rupees," she said; "and when you open the chest, you will see the contents are worth two thousand. But you must not open it till you are in your father's house." "Well," said the kotwal's son, "here are a thousand rupees." The woman and the other three chests went on their way, while he took his into the house. "What a heavy chest!" he said. "What can be inside?" Then he lifted the lid. "Why, there's my father!" he cried. "Father, how came you to be in this chest?" The kotwal was very much ashamed of himself. "I never thought she was the woman to play me such a trick," he said; and then he had to tell his son the whole story.

The merchant's wife next stopped at the wazir's house, and there she saw the wazir's son. The wazir's chest was put down before his door, and she said to his son, "Will you buy this chest?" "What is inside of it?" he asked. "A most precious thing," she answered. "Will you buy it?" "How much do you want for it?" asked the son. "Only two thousand rupees, and it is worth three thousand." So the wazir's son bought his father, without knowing it, for two thousand rupees. "You must not open the chest till you are in the house," said the merchant's wife. The wazir's son opened the chest in the house at once, wondering what could be in it; and the wazir's wife stood by all the time. When they saw the wazir himself, looking very much ashamed, they were greatly astonished. "How came you there?" they cried. "Where have you been?" said his wife. "Oh," said the wazir, "I never thought she was a woman to treat me like this;" and he, too, had to tell all his story.

Now the merchant's wife stopped at the kazi's door, and there stood the kazi's son. "Will you buy this chest?" she said to him, and had the kazi's chest put on the ground. "What is in it?" said the kazi's son. "Silver and gold," she answered. "You shall have it for three thousand rupees. The contents are worth four." "Well, I will take it," said the son. "Don't open it till you are in your house," she said, and took her three thousand rupees and went away. Great was the excitement when the kazi stepped out of the chest. "Oh!" he groaned, "I never thought she could behave like this to me."

The merchant's wife now went to the palace, and set the king's chest down at the palace gates. There she saw the king's son. "Will you buy this chest?" she said. "What is in it?" asked the prince. "Diamonds, pearls, and all kinds of precious stones," said the merchant's wife. "You shall have the chest for five thousand rupees, but its contents are worth a great deal more." "Well," said the king's son, "here are your five thousand rupees; give me the chest." "Don't open it out here," she said. "Take it into the palace and open it there." And away she went home.

The king's son opened the chest, and there was his father. "What's all this?" cried the prince. "How came you to be in the chest?" The king was very much ashamed, and did not tell much about his adventure; but when he was sitting in his court-house, he had the merchant's wife brought to him, and gave her a quantity of rupees, saying, "You are a wise and clever woman."

Now the kotwal knew the wazir had gone to see the merchant's wife; and the wazir knew the kazi had gone; and the kazi, that the king had gone; but this was all that any of them knew.

The merchant's wife had now plenty of rupees, so she had a most beautiful well built and roofed over. Then she locked the door of the well, and told the servants no one was to drink any of its water, or bathe in it, till her husband came home: he was to be the first to drink its water, and bathe in the well.

Then she sent her ayah to the bazar to buy her clothes and ornaments such as cowherd's wives and daughter's wear; and when the ayah had brought her these, she packed them up in a box. Then she dressed herself in men's clothes, so that no one could tell she was a woman, and ordered a horse to be got ready for her. "I am going to eat the air of another country for a little while," she said. "You must all take great care of the house while I am away." The servants did not like her going away at all; they were afraid her husband might return during her absence, and that he would be angry with them for having let her go. "Don't be afraid," she said. "There is nothing to be frightened about. I shall come back all right."

So she set out, taking the key of the well, the box with the clothes her ayah had bought for her in the bazar, and plenty of rupees. She also took two of her servants. She travelled a long, long way, asking everywhere for her husband's boat. At last at the end of a month she came to where it was. Here she hired a little house, and dressed herself like a cowherd's daughter. Then she got some very good milk, and went down to the banks of the river to sell it. Everybody said, "Do look what a beautiful woman that is selling milk!" She sold her milk very quickly, it was so good. This she did for several days, till her husband, the merchant, saw her. He thought her so beautiful, that he asked her to bring him some milk to his boat. So every day for a little while she sold him milk. One day he said to her, "Will you marry me?" "How can I marry you?" she said. "You are a merchant, and I am a cowherd's daughter. Soon you will be leaving this country, and will travel to another in your boat; you will want me to go with you. Then I shall have to leave my father and mother, and who will take care of them?" "Let us be married," said the merchant. "I am going to stay here for three months. When I go, you shall return to your father and mother, and later I will come back to you." To this she agreed, and they were married, and she went to live in the boat. At the end of three months, the merchant said to her, "My business here is done, and I must go to another country. Would you like to go home to your father and mother while I am away?" "Yes," she said. "Here are some rupees for you to live on in my absence," he said. "I do not want any rupees," said his wife. "I only want you to give me two things: your old cap, and your picture." These he gave her, and then he went to his boat, and she went back to her own home.

Some time afterwards she had a little son. The servants were greatly frightened, for they thought their master would not be pleased when he came home; and he was not pleased when he did come two months later. He was so cross that he would not look at the baby-boy, and he would hardly look at his beautiful well.

One night he lay awake thinking, and he thought he would kill his wife and her little son. But the next day she came to him: "Tell me the truth," she said; "you are angry with me? Don't be angry, for I want to show you a picture I like very much—the picture of my boy's father." Then she showed him his own picture, and the old cap he had given her on board his boat; and she told him how she had been the cowherd's daughter; and also how she had gained the money to build his well. "You see," she said, "I have done all you bade me. Here is your well, and here is your son." Then the merchant was very happy. He kissed and loved his little son, and thought his well was beautiful; and he said to his wife, "What a clever woman you are!"