The Country Mouse and The City Mouse

A little mouse who lived in the country once invited his city cousin to come and make him a visit. When the country mouse had shown the city mouse the green fields and the big red barn, they sat down to a dinner of barley and grain.
The country mouse was hungry and ate heartily, but the city mouse only nibbled daintily.
"Don't you like this barley and grain?" asked the country mouse.
"Not very well, dear Cousin," answered the city mouse. "I don't want to seem impolite, but I wish you could taste the fine things I have to eat every day. M-m-m. You must come to the city and visit me. I will show you what good food is."
"I should like to come very much, dear Cousin," said the country mouse.
One day not long after that, the country mouse came to the city to visit his cousin. "You must be hungry after your trip from the country," said the city mouse. "We will go to the pantry and you shall have a feast."
The city mouse led the way through a hole into the kitchen pantry. The country mouse had never seen so many jars and bags and boxes in all his life as there were on the shelves.The two little mice scampered along the lowest shelf. "Oh what luck!" cried the city mouse. "Some one has left the cake box open."
They crept inside and the country mouse saw something big and round and brown. "This chocolate cake is a little dry," said the city mouse, "but see how you like it." The little country mouse nibbled at the big, round, brown thing. How sweet it was! He had never tasted anything more delicious. The two little mice nibbled away happily. "How very lucky you are, dear Cousin," the country mouse started to say, when the door opened. A big rosy-cheeked woman with a mixing-bowl in her hands came into the pantry. "Sh," whispered the city mouse, "run for the hole." The two little mice scampered along the shelf and back into the hole. When they were safe inside, the city mouse said, "Don't look so frightened, Cousin. That was only the cook. She was going to make a fresh cake and wanted some sugar and flour. "The cook does not like us, but she cannot catch us. She will not stay long in the pantry. We will go back in a few minutes for I have many other things to show you." After a little while, the city mouse looked out of the hole, and saw that the cook had gone. "Come on," he called to his cousin and back they scampered to the pantry shelf. This time the city mouse showed his country cousin a box. "There is something good inside," he said and they began to gnaw a hole in one corner as fast as they could. When they had gnawed through the cardboard, the country mouse tasted something he thought even more delicious than the chocolate cake. The city mouse told him that the box was filled with raisins. "What fun it was to have such fine things to eat everyday," the coun­try mouse was thinking, when he heard a scratching at the door and a queer sound like, meow. "Run, run," whispered the city mouse. When they were safely back in the hole again, the city mouse said, "Don't tremble so, dear Cousin, that was only the cat. Of course she likes to eat mice and she is very good at catching us in her sharp claws, but she will soon go away." The country mouse was so frightened he could not stop trembling. "I would rather not go back to the pantry, dear Cousin, if you don't mind," he said. "All right," said the city mouse. "The really nicest thing for mice is in the cellar cupboard. The cat is in the kitchen, so we are safe." They scampered down the stairs into the cellar cupboard. The country mouse thought it was the most wonderful place he had ever seen. There were ever so many more things there than in the kitchen pantry. On the floor there were barrels of delicious smelling apples. From the ceiling hung strings of sausages. On the shelves there were jars and jars and boxes and bags. Some of the jars were filled with golden butter, and some with red jelly and jam. In the bags there were all sorts of good smelling things. The two little mice scampered about nibbling here and there at what they could find open. The country mouse saw something a deep yellow color. It smelled very good. He took a nibble. It had a most delicious taste. 'That is cheese," his city cousin told him. "There is really nothing better than cheese." The country mouse saw another piece of cheese that looked and smelled even better than the piece he had just nibbled. It was fastened to a queer little round stand. The country mouse was just going to take a big bite of this piece of cheese when the city mouse called out: "Stop, stop, don't eat that cheese. It is in a trap." "What is a trap?" asked the country mouse. 'I never heard of one." "If you touch the cheese in a trap," said the city mouse, "something hard comes down on your neck. You cannot breathe any more. You can never nibble cake or cheese again." "Oh," said the country mouse, trembling. "I think I must be going home right away. You have been very kind to give me all these fine things to eat, dear Cousin. The cake and the raisins and the cheese were delicious, but I would rather eat my barley and grain and be safe."
So the little country mouse went home to the country and ate barley and grain in peace and comfort for the rest of his days.

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Fairy stories - The Flying Taro

A certain chief of Kona had a taro patch of which he was very proud, and the plants themselves were proud because they grew so tall and green. In an upper corner grew two friends, the tallest and greenest of all those taro plants.

The wind rustled their leaves until the two could whisper to each other. "Listen!" said one, "I hear the sound of chopping. Someone is cutting wood to heat the imu."At that moment a servant came. He stopped near the two plants as if pulling weeds, and whispered to them, "The wood is being chopped and the imu is prepared. Soon one will come to pull you two, for I heard the chief order him to take the two large plants that grow here at the upper end." The servant slipped away.
"We are to be pulled!" the two said fearfully, "Pulled, cooked, and pounded into poi! No! Let us hide and live!" They hid close to the bank in the shelter of a young banana plant.
They saw a servant come to the upper corner. "The two tall plants," they heard him say. "No two are taller than the others, but all are strong and green. I'll take these two." He pulled some plants and went away.
"We have escaped!" whispered the leaves of the two who hid.
But their escape was not for long. One day the chief walked through his patch. "Why, here are those two plants!" he said. "I thought they grew there in the upper corner." He called a servant. "These two are large," he told him. "Be sure to take them tomorrow to be cooked and pounded into poi." Again the two plants fled. This time they hid where long leaves of cane were drooping to the ground. The servant could not find them.
Days passed, then the chief found their hiding place. "So you escaped, you two!" he cried. "You'll not escape again!" This time he marked the place and called a man to come at once to pull the taro.
"We must not wait!" the plants exclaimed. They rose in the air, their leaves serving as wings, and flew to the patch of a common farmer. "Here we are safe," they said. And so it seemed. For days they lived unnoticed.
Then came the servant who had been their friend. "The chief knows you are here," he whispered. "The farmer told him, and he has sent me to pull you up. I go now for my digging stick. Save yourselves." Away they flew, their leaves trembling with fear.
Again and again this happened until one day the chief himself came for them, digging stick in hand. The taro plants rose in air and flew toward the south. The chief saw and followed with an angry shout. People left their work to watch. Some shouted to the chief, "You are close upon them! You will catch them in a moment!" Others prayed that the plants might have power to escape.
Tired out, the two sank down to rest in a friendly field. "Do not stay here!" shouted the plants about them. "The chief is even now hunting in this patch. Fly on! Soon you will reach Ka'u where he cannot harm you."
The plants arose on tired wings. The chief saw them and gave chase. He was only a step behind! Suddenly he stopped for he had reached the border. His taro plants were in Ka'u!
"Here!" someone called. "This is the patch of our good chief. Rest here!" The tired plants sank down.
They were, indeed, in the patch of a good chief. Hearing of their escape, he came to look at them. "In this field you are safe," he said. "No man shall harm you. Live in peace."
And so they did. Happy in each other, proud and happy in the young taro plants about them, they lived to a good old age.
This story means that, in the old days, men had the right to leave the land of a cruel chief, and live unharmed in the district of a good one.

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Fairy stories - The Caliph Stork

Caliph Chasid, of Baghdad, was resting comfortably on his divan one fine afternoon. He was smoking a long pipe, and from time to time he sipped a little coffee which a slave handed to him, and after each sip he stroked his long beard with an air of enjoyment. In short, anyone could see that the Caliph was in an excellent humour.

This was, in fact, the best time of day in which to approach him, for just now he was pretty sure to be both affable and in good spirits, and for this reason the Grand Vizier Mansor always chose this hour in which to pay his daily visit.He arrived as usual this afternoon, but, contrary to his usual custom, with an anxious face.

The Caliph withdrew his pipe for a moment from his lips and asked, ‘Why do you look so anxious, Grand Vizier?’

The Grand Vizier crossed his arms on his breast and bent low be­fore his master as he answered: ‘O my Lord! Whether my countenance be anxious or not I know not, but down below, in the court of the palace, is a pedlar with such beautiful things that I cannot help feeling annoyed at having so little money to spare.'

The Caliph, who had wished for some time past to give his Grand Vizier a present, ordered his black slave to bring the pedlar before him at once. The slave soon returned, followed by the pedlar, a short stout man with a swarthy face, and dressed in very ragged clothes. He carried a box containing all manner of wares - strings of pearls, rings, richly mounted pistols, goblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected everything, and the Caliph chose some handsome pistols for himself and Mansor, and a jewelled comb for the Vizier's wife. Just as the pedlar was about to close his box, the Caliph noticed a small drawer, and asked if there was anything else in it for sale. The pedlar opened the drawer and showed them a box containing a black powder, and a scroll written in strange characters, which neither the Caliph nor the Vizier could read.

‘I got these two articles from a merchant who had picked them up in the street at Mecca,’ said the pedlar. 'I do not know what they may contain, but as they are of no use to me, you are welcome to have them for a trifle.'

The Caliph, who liked to have old manuscripts in his library, even though he could not read them, purchased the scroll and the box, and dismissed the pedlar. Then, being anxious to know what might be the contents of the scroll, he asked the Vizier if he did not know of anyone who might be able to decipher it.

‘Most gracious Lord and master,' replied the Vizier, ‘near the great Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned, who knows every lang­uage under the sun. Send for him; it may be that he will be able to in­terpret these mysterious characters.'

The learned Selim was summoned immediately.

‘Selim,' said the Caliph, ‘I hear you are a scholar. Look well at this scroll and see whether you can read it. If you can, I will give you a robe of honour; but if you fail, I will order you to receive twelve strokes on your cheeks, and five-and-twenty on the soles of your feet, because you have been falsely called Selim the learned.'

Selim prostrated himself and said, 'Be it according to your will, O master!' Then he gazed long at the scroll.

Suddenly he exclaimed, 'May I die, O my Lord, if this isn't Latin!'

'Well,’ said the Caliph,' if it is Latin, let us hear what it means.'

So Selim began to translate. 'Thou who mayest find this, praise Allah for his mercy. Whoever shall snuff the powder in this box, and at the same time shall pronounce the word "Mutabor!" can transform himself into any creature he likes, and will understand the language of all animals. When he wishes to resume the human form, he has only to bow three times towards the east, and to repeat the same word. Be careful, however, when wearing the shape of some beast or bird, not to laugh, or thou wilt certainly forget the magic word and remain transformed for ever.' When Selim the learned had read this, the Caliph was delighted. He made the wise man swear not to tell the matter to anyone, gave him a splendid robe, and dismissed him.

Then he said to his Vizier, 'That's what I call a good bargain, Mansor. I am longing for the moment when I can become some animal. Tomorrow morning I shall expect you early; we will go into the country, take some snuff from my box, and then hear what is being said in air, earth, and water.'

Next morning Caliph Chasid had barely finished dressing and breakfasting, when the Grand Vizier arrived, according to orders, to accompany him on his expedition. The Caliph stuck the snuff-box in his girdle, and, having desired his servants to remain at home, started off with the Grand Vizier only in attendance. First they walked through the palace gardens, but they looked in vain for some creature which could tempt them to try their magic power. At length the Vizier suggested going farther on to a pond which lay beyond the town, and where he had often seen a variety of creatures, especially storks, whose grave, dignified appearance and constant chatter had often attracted his attention.The Caliph consented, and they went straight to the pond. As soon as they arrived they remarked a stork strutting up and down with a stately air, hunting for frogs, and now and then muttering something to itself. At the same time they saw another stork far above in the sky flying towards the same spot.

'I would wager my bread, most gracious master,' said the Grand Vizier, 'that these two long legs will have a good chat together. How would it be if we turned ourselves into storks?'

'Well said,' replied the Caliph; 'but first let us remember carefully how we are to become men once more.

We must bow three times to­wards the east and say "Mutabor!" and I shall be Caliph and you my Grand Vizier again. But for heavens' sake don't laugh or we are lost!'

As the Caliph spoke he saw the second stork circling round his head and gradually flying towards the earth. Quickly he drew the box from his girdle, took a good pinch of the snuff, and offered one to Mansor, who also took one, and both cried together ‘Mutabor!' Instantly their legs shrivelled up and grew thin and red; their smart yellow slippers turned to clumsy stork's feet, their arms to wings; their necks began to sprout from between their shoulders and grew a yard long; their beards disappeared, and their bodies were covered with feathers.

'You've got a fine long bill, Sir Vizier,' cried the Caliph, after stand­ing for some time lost in astonishment.

‘By the beard of the Prophet I never saw such a thing in all my life!'

‘My very humble thanks,' replied the Grand Vizier, as he bent his long neck; 'but, if I may venture to say so, your Highness is even handsomer as a stork than as a Caliph. But come, if it so pleases you, let us go near our comrades there and find out whether we really do un­derstand the language of storks.' Meantime the second stork had reached the ground. It first scraped its bill with its claw, stroked down its feathers, and then advanced to­wards the first stork.

The two newly-made storks lost no time in draw­ing near, and to their amazement overheard the following conversa­tion: ‘Good morning, Dame Longlegs. You are out early this morning!' 'Yes, indeed, dear Chatterbill! I am getting myself a morsel of breakfast. May I offer you a joint of lizard or a frog's thigh?'

‘A thousand thanks, but I have really no appetite this morning, I am here for a very different purpose. I am to dance today before my father's guests, and I have come to the meadow for a little quiet practice.' Thereupon the young stork began to move about with the most strange and wonderful steps. The Caliph and Mansor looked on in surprise for some time; but when at last she balanced herself in a picturesque attitude on one leg, and flapped her wings gracefully up and down, they could hold out no longer; a prolonged peal burst from each of their bills, and it was some time before they could recover their composure. The Caliph was the first to collect himself.

‘That was the best joke,’ said he, ‘I've ever seen. It's a pity the stupid creatures were scared away by our laughter, or no doubt they would have sung next!'

Suddenly, however, the Vizier remembered how strictly they had been warned not to laugh during their transformation. He at once communicated his fears to the Caliph, who exclaimed, ‘By Mecca and Medina! It would indeed prove but a poor joke if I had to remain a stork for the remainder of my days! Do just try and remember the stupid word, it has slipped my memory.' ‘We must bow three times eastwards and say "Mu... mu... mu ...” They turned to the east and fell to bowing till their bills touched the ground, but, oh horror - the magic word was quite forgotten, and however often the Caliph bowed and however touchingly his Vizier cried 'Mu... mu...' they could not recall it, and the unhappy Chasid and Mansor remained storks as they were. The two enchanted birds wandered sadly on through the meadows. In their misery they could not think what to do next. They could not rid themselves of their new forms; there was no use in returning to the town and saying who they were; for who would believe a stork who announced that he was a Caliph, and even if they did believe him, would the people of Baghdad consent to let a stork rule over them?So they lounged about for several days, supporting themselves on fruits, which, however, they found some difficulty in eating with their long bills. They did not much care to eat frogs or lizards. Their one comfort in their sad plight was the power of flying, and accordingly they often flew over the roofs of Baghdad to see what was going on there. During the first few days they noticed signs of much disturbance and distress in the streets, but about the fourth day, as they sat on the roof of the palace, they perceived a splendid procession passing below them along the street. Drums and trumpets sounded, a man in a scar­let mantle, embroidered in gold, sat on a splendidly caparisoned horse surrounded by richly dressed slaves; half of Baghdad crowded after him, and they all shouted, ‘Hail, Mirza, the Lord of Baghdad!' The two storks on the palace roof looked at each other, and Caliph Chasid said, 'Can you guess now, Grand Vizier, why I have been en­chanted? This Mirza is the son of my deadly enemy, the mighty magician Kaschnur, who in an evil moment vowed vengeance on me. Still, I will not despair! Come with me, my faithful friend; we will go to the grave of the Prophet, and perhaps at that sacred spot the spell may be loosed.' They rose from the palace roof, and spread their wings towards Medina.But flying so great a distance was not quite an easy matter, for the two storks had had but little practice as yet.

'O my Lord!' gasped the Vizier, after a couple of hours, 'I can get on no longer; you really fly too quick for me. Besides, it is nearly even­ing, and we should do well to find some place in which to spend the night.’ Chasid listened with favour to his servant's suggestion, and per­ceiving in the valley beneath them a ruin which seemed to promise shelter they flew towards it. The building in which they proposed to pass the night had apparently been formerly a castle. Some handsome pillars still stood amongst the heaps of ruins, and several rooms, which yet remained in fair preservation, gave evidence of former splendour. Chasid and his companion wandered along the passages seeking a dry spot, when suddenly Mansor stood still.

'My Lord and master,' he whispered, 'if it were not absurd for a Grand Vizier, and still more for a stork, to be afraid of ghosts, I should feel quite nervous, for someone, or something close by me, has sighed and moaned quite audibly.'

The Caliph stood still and distinctly heard a low weeping sound which seemed to proceed from a human being rather than from any animal. Full of curiosity he was about to rush towards the spot from whence the sounds of woe came, when the Vizier caught him by the wing with his bill, and implored him not to expose himself to fresh and unknown dangers. The Caliph, however, under whose stork's breast a brave heart beat, tore himself away with the loss of a few feathers, and hurried down a dark passage. He saw a door which stood ajar, and through which he distinctly heard sighs, mingled with sobs. He pushed open the door with his bill, but remained on the threshold, astonished at the sight which met his eyes. On the floor of the ruined chamber - which was but scantily lighted by a small barred window -sat a large screech owl. Big tears rolled from its large round eyes, and in a hoarse voice it uttered its complaints through its crooked beak. As soon as it saw the Caliph and his Vizier - who had crept up mean­while - it gave vent to a joyful cry. It gently wiped the tears from its eyes with its spotted brown wings, and to the great amazement of the two visitors, addressed them in good human Arabic.

‘Welcome, ye storks! You are a good sign of my deliverance, for it was foretold me that a piece of good fortune should befall me through a stork.'

When the Caliph had recovered from his surprise, he drew up his feet into a graceful position, bent his long neck, and said, ‘O screech owl! From your words I am led to believe that we see in you a com­panion in misfortune. But, alas! your hope that you may attain your deliverance through us is but a vain one. You will know our helplessness when you have heard our story.' The screech owl begged him to relate it, and the Caliph accordingly told him what we already know. When the Caliph had ended, the owl thanked him and said, ‘You hear my story, and own that I am no less unfortunate than yourselves. My father is the King of the Indies. I, his only daughter, am named Lusa. That magician Kaschnur, who enchanted you, has been the cause of my misfortunes too. He came one day to my father and demanded my hand for his son Mirza. My father - who is rather hasty - ordered him to be thrown downstairs.

The wretch not long after man­aged to approach me under another form, and one day, when I was in the garden, and asked for some refreshment, he brought me - in the disguise of a slave - a draught which changed me at once to this horrid shape. Whilst I was fainting with terror he transported me here, and cried to me with his awful voice, "There shall you remain, lonely and hideous, despised even by the brutes, till the end of your days, or till someone of his own free will asks you to be his wife. Thus do I avenge myself on you and your proud father."

'Since then many months have passed away. Sad and lonely do I live like any hermit within these walls, avoided by the world, and a terror even to animals; the beauties of nature are hidden from me, for I am blind by day, and it is only when the moon sheds her pale light on this spot that the veil falls from my eyes and I can see.'

The owl paused, and once more wiped her eyes with her wing, for the recital of her woes had drawn fresh tears from her. The Caliph fell into deep thought on hearing this story of the Prin­cess.

‘If I am not much mistaken,' said he, 'there is some mysterious connection between our misfortunes, but how to find the key to the riddle is the question.'

The owl answered, 'O my Lord! I too felt sure of this, for in my earliest youth a wise woman foretold that a stork would bring me some great happiness, and I think I could tell you how we might save ourselves.'

The Caliph was much surprised, and asked her what she meant.

'The Magician who has made us both miserable,' said she, ‘comes once a month to these ruins. Not far from this room is a large hall where he is in the habit of feasting with his companions. I have often watched them. They tell each other all about their evil deeds, and possibly the magic word which you have forgotten may be mentioned.'

'O dearest Princess!' exclaimed the Caliph.

‘Say, when does he come, and where is the hall?'The owl paused a moment and then said,' Do not think me unkind, but I can only grant your request on one condition.' ‘Speak, speak!' cried Chasid. 'Command; I will gladly do what­ever you wish!' ‘Well,' replied the owl, 'you see I should like to be free too; but this can only be if one of you will offer me his hand in marriage.' The storks seemed rather taken aback by this suggestion, and the Caliph beckoned to his Vizier to retire and consult with him. When they were outside the door the Caliph said, 'Grand Vizier, this is a tiresome business. However, you can take her.' 'Indeed!' said the Vizier; 'so that when I go home my wife may scratch my eyes out! Besides, I am an old man, and your Highness is still young and unmarried, and a far more suitable match for a young and lovely Princess.' 'Ah, that's just it,' sighed the Caliph, whose wings drooped in a de­jected manner. 'How do you know she is young and lovely? I call it buying a pig in a poke.' They argued on for some time, but at length, when the Caliph saw plainly that his Vizier would rather remain a stork to the end of his days than marry the owl, he determined to fulfil the condition himself. The owl was delighted. She owned that they could not have arrived at a better time, as most probably the magicians would meet that very night. She then proceeded to lead the two storks to the chamber. They passed through a long dark passage till at length a bright ray of light shone before them through the chinks of a half-ruined wall. When she reached it the owl advised them to keep very quiet. Through the gap near which they stood they could with ease survey the whole of the large hall. It was adorned with splendid carved pillars; a number of coloured lamp replaced the light of day. In the middle of the hall stood a round table covered with a variety of dishes, and round about the table were divans on which eight magicians were seated, and in one of them the two storks recognised the pedlar who had sold the magic powder. The man next to him begged him to relate all his latest doings, and after other tales of wickedness he told the story of the Caliph and his Vizier. ‘And what word did you give them?' asked another old sorcerer. ‘A very difficult Latin word; it is "Mutabor”.’ As soon as the storks heard this they were nearly beside themselves with joy. They ran at such a pace to the door of the ruined castle that the owl could scarcely keep up with them. When they reached it the Caliph turned to the owl, and said with much feeling, 'Deliverer of my friend and myself, as a proof of my eternal gratitude, accept me as your husband.' Then he turned towards the east. Three times the storks bowed their long necks to the sun, which was just rising over the mountains. 'Mutabor!' they both cried, and in an instant they were once more transformed. In the rapture of their newly-given lives master and servant fell laughing and weeping into each other's arms. Who shall describe their surprise when they at last turned round and beheld standing before them a beautiful lady exquisitely dressed!With a smile she held out her hand to the Caliph, and asked, 'Do you not recognise your screech owl?' It was indeed she! The Caliph was so enchanted by her grace and beauty, that he declared being turned into a stork had been the best piece of luck which had ever befallen him. The three set out at once for Baghdad. Fortunately, the Caliph found not only the box with the magic powder, but also his purse in his girdle; he was, therefore, able to buy in the nearest village all they required for their journey, and so at last they reached the gates of Baghdad. Here the Caliph's arrival created the greatest sensation. He had been quite given up for dead, and the people were greatly rejoiced to see their beloved ruler again. Their rage with the usurper Mirza, however, was great in propor­tion. They marched in force to the palace and took the old magician and his son prisoners. The Caliph sent the magician to the room where the Princess had lived as an owl, and there had him hanged. As the son, however, knew nothing of his father's acts, the Caliph gave him his choice between death and a pinch of the magic snuff. When he chose the latter, the Grand Vizier handed him the box. One good pinch, and the magic word transformed him to a stork. The Caliph ordered him to be confined in an iron cage, and placed in the palace gardens.
Caliph Chasid lived long and happily with his wife the Princess. His merriest time was when the Grand Vizier visited him in the after­noon; and when the Caliph was in particularly high spirits he would condescend to mimic the Vizier's appearance when he was a stork. He would strut gravely, and with well-stiffened legs, up and down the room, chattering, and showing how he had vainly bowed to the east and cried ‘Mu ... Mu...' The Princess and her children were always much entertained by this performance; but when the Caliph went on nodding and bowing, and calling 'Mu... mu...' too long, the Vizier would threaten laughingly to tell the Caliph's wife the subject of the discussion carried on that night in the ruined castle outside the door of Princess Screech Owl.

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Fairy stories - The Clever Weaver

Once upon a time the King of a far country was sitting on his throne, listening to the complaints of his people, and judging between them. That morning there had been fewer cases than usual to deal with, and the King was about to rise and go into his gardens, when a sudden stir was heard outside, and the lord high chamberlain en­tered, and inquired if his majesty would be graciously pleased to re­ceive the ambassador of a powerful Emperor who lived in the east, and was greatly feared by the neighbouring sovereigns.

The King, who stood as much in dread of the Emperor as the rest, gave orders that the envoy should be admitted at once, and that a banquet should be prepared in his honour. Then he settled himself again on his throne, wondering what the envoy had to say.The envoy said nothing. He advanced to the throne where the King was awaiting him, and stooping down, traced on the floor with a rod which he held in his hand a black circle all round it. Then he sat down on a seat that was near, and took no further notice of anyone. The King and his courtiers were equally mystified and enraged at this strange behaviour, but the envoy sat as calm and still as an image, and it soon became plain that they would get no explanation from him. The ministers were hastily summoned to a council, but not one of them could throw any light upon the subject. This made the King more angry than ever, and he told them that unless before sunset they could find someone capable of solving the mystery he would hang them all. The King was, as the ministers knew, a man of his word; and they quickly mapped out the city into districts, so that they might visit house by house, and question the occupants as to whether they could explain the action of the ambassador. Most of them received no reply except a puzzled stare; but, luckily, one of them was more observant than the rest, and on entering an empty cottage where a swing was swinging of itself, he began to think it might be worth while for him to see the owner. Opening a door leading into another room, he found a second swing, swinging gently like the first, and from the window he beheld a patch of corn, and a willow pole which moved perpetually without any wind, in order to frighten away the sparrows. Feeling more and more curious, he descended the stairs and found himself in a large light workshop in which was seated a weaver at his loom. But all the weaver did was to guide his threads, for the machine that he had invented to set in motion the swings and the willow pole, made the loom work. When he saw the great wheel standing in the corner, and had guessed the use of it, the minister heaved a sigh of relief. At any rate even if the weaver could not solve the riddle, he at least might put the minister on the right track. So without more ado he told the story of the envoy and the circle, and aided by declaring that the person who could explain the meaning of this riddle should be handsomely rewarded. ‘Come with me at once,' said the minister. 'The sun is low in the heavens, and there is no time to lose.' The weaver stood thinking for a moment and then walked across to a window, outside of which was a hen-coop with two knuckle-bones lying beside it. These he picked up, and taking the hen from the coop, he tucked it under his arm. ‘I am ready,' he answered, turning to the minister. In the hall the King still sat on his throne, and the envoy on his seat. Signing to the minister to remain where he was, the weaver ad­vanced to the envoy, and placed the knuckle-bones on the floor beside him. For answer, the envoy took a handful of millet seed out of his pocket and scattered it round; upon which the weaver set down the hen, who ate it up in a moment. At that the envoy rose without a word, and took his departure.

As soon as he had left the hall, the King beckoned to the weaver. ‘You alone seem to have guessed the riddle,' said he, 'and great shall be your reward. But tell me, I pray you, what it all means?’

'The meaning, O King,' replied the weaver, is this: the circle drawn by the envoy round your throne is the message of the Emperor, and signifies,”If I send an army and surround your capital, will you lay down your arms?"

The knuckle-bones which I placed before him told him, "You are but children in comparison with us. Toys like these are the only playthings you are fit for."

The millet that he scattered was an emblem of the number of soldiers that his master can bring into the field; but by the hen which ate up the seed he under­stood that one of our men could destroy a host of theirs. I do not think,’ he added, ‘that the Emperor will declare war.' 'You have saved me and my honour,' cried the King, 'and wealth and glory shall be heaped upon you. Name your reward, and you shall have it even to the half of my kingdom.'
'The small farm outside the city gates, as a marriage portion for my daughter, is all I ask,' answered the weaver, and it was all he would accept. 'Only, O King,' were his parting words, ‘I would beg of you to remember that weavers also are of value to a state, and that they are sometimes cleverer even than ministers!'

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Fairy stories - The Cats' Elopement

Once upon a time there lived a cat of marvellous beauty, with a skin as soft and shining as silk, and wise green eyes, that could see even in the dark. His name was Gon, and he belonged to a music teacher, who was so fond and proud of him that he would not have parted with him for anything in the world.

Now not far from the music master's house there dwelt a lady who possessed a most lovely little pussy cat called Koma. She was such a dear, and blinked her eyes so daintily, and ate her supper so tidily, and when she had finished she licked her pink nose so delicately with her little tongue, that her mistress was never tired of saying, ‘Koma, Koma, what should I do without you?’

Well, it happened one day that these two cats, when out for an even­ing stroll, met under a cherry tree, and in one moment fell madly in love with each other. Gon had long felt that it was time for him to find a wife, for all the ladies in the neighbourhood paid him so much atten­tion that it made him quite shy; but he was not easy to please, and did not care about any of them. Now, before he had time to think, Cupid had entangled him in his net, and he was filled with love towards Koma. She fully returned his passion, but, like a woman, she saw the difficulties in the way, and consulted sadly with Gon as to the means of overcoming them. Gon entreated his master to set matters right by buying Koma, but Koma's mistress would not part with her.

Then the music master was asked to sell Gon to the lady, but he declined to listen to any such suggestion, so everything remained as before. At length the love of the couple grew to such a pitch that they de­termined to please themselves, and to go off to seek their fortunes to­gether. So one moonlight night they stole away, and ventured out into an unknown world. All day long they marched bravely on through the sunshine, till they had left their homes far behind them, and towards evening they found themselves in a large park. The wanderers by this time were hot and tired, and the grass looked very soft and inviting, and the trees cast cool deep shadows. Then suddenly an ogre appeared in this Paradise, in the shape of a dog! He came springing towards them showing all his teeth. Koma shrieked, and rushed up a cherry tree; Gon, however, stood his ground boldly, and prepared to give battle, for he felt that Koma's eyes were upon him, and that he must not run away. But, alas! his courage would have availed him nothing had his enemy once touched him, for the dog was large and powerful, and very fierce. From her perch in the tree Koma saw it all, and screamed with all her might, hoping that someone would hear, and come to help. Luckily a servant of the Princess to whom the park belonged was walking by, and he drove off the dog, and picking up the trembling Gon in his arms, carried him to his mis­tress. So poor little Koma was left alone, while Gon was borne away full of trouble, not in the least knowing what to do. Even the attention paid him by the Princess, who was delighted with his beauty and pretty ways, did not console him, but there was no use in fighting against fate, and he could only wait and see what would turn up. The Princess, Gon's new mistress, was so good and kind that every­body loved her, and she would have led a happy life, had it not been for a serpent who had fallen in love with her, and was constantly an­noying her by his presence. Her servants had orders to drive him away as often as he appeared; but as they were careless, and the ser­pent very sly, it sometimes happened that he was able to slip past them, and to frighten the Princess by appearing before her. One day she was seated in her room, playing on her favourite musical instru­ment, when she felt something gliding up her sash, and saw her enemy making his way to kiss her cheek. She shrieked and threw herself backwards, and Gon, who had been curled up on a stool at her feet, understood her terror, and with one bound seized the snake by his neck. He gave him one bite and one shake, and flung him on the ground, where he lay, never to worry the Princess any more. Then she took Gon in her arms, and praised and caressed him, and saw that he had the nicest bits to eat, and the softest mats to lie on; and he would have had nothing in the world to wish for if only he could have found Koma again. Time passed on, and one morning Gon lay before the house door, basking in the sun. He looked lazily at the world stretched out before him, and saw in the distance a big ruffian of a cat teasing and ill-treat­ing quite a little one. He jumped up, full of rage, and chased away the big cat, and then he turned to comfort the little one, when his heart nearly burst with joy to find that it was Koma. At first Koma did not know him again, he had grown so large and stately; but when it dawned upon her who it was, her happiness knew no bounds. And they rubbed heads and noses again and again, while their purring might have been heard a mile off. Paw in paw they appeared before the Princess, and told her the story of their life and its sorrows. The Princess wept for sympathy, and promised that they should never more be parted, but should live with her to the end of their days. By and by the Princess herself got married, and brought a Prince to dwell in the palace in the park. And she told him all about her two cats, and how brave Gon had been, and how he had delivered her from her enemy the serpent.
And when the Prince heard, he swore they should never leave them, but should go with the Princess wherever she went. So it all fell out as the Princess wished; and Gon and Koma had many children, and so had the Princess, and they all played together, and were friends to the end of their lives.

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Fairy story - The Death of Abu Nowas and His Wife

Once upon a time there lived a man whose name was Abu Nowas, and he was a great favourite with the Sultan of the country, who had a palace in the same town where he dwelt.

Now one day the wife of Abu Nowas died, and he came weeping into the hall of the palace where the Sultan was sitting, and said to him,' O mighty Sultan, my wife is dead.'

'That is bad news,' replied the Sultan; ‘I must get you another wife.'

And he bade his Grand Vizier send for the Sultana. ‘This poor Abu Nowas has lost his wife,' said he, when she entered the hall.

'Oh, then we must get him another,' answered the Sultana; ‘I have a girl that will suit him exactly,' and clapped her hands loudly. At this signal a maiden appeared and stood before her. ‘I have got a husband for you,' said the Sultana.

‘Who is he?' asked the girl.

'Abu Nowas, the jester,' replied the Sultana.

'I will take him,' answered the maiden; and as Abu Nowas made no objection, it was all arranged. The Sultana had the most beautiful clothes made for the bride, and the Sultan gave the bridegroom his wedding suit, and a thousand gold pieces into the bargain, and soft carpets for the house. So Abu Nowas took his wife home, and for some time they were very happy, and spent the money freely which the Sultan had given them, never thinking what they should do for more when that was gone. But come to an end it did, and they had to sell their fine things one by one, till at length nothing was left but a cloak apiece, and one blanket to cover them.

' We have run through our fortune,' said Abu Nowas,' what are we to do now? I am afraid to go back to the Sultan, for he will command his servants to turn me from the door. But you shall return to your mistress, and throw yourself at her feet and weep, and perhaps she will help us.’ 'Oh, you had much better go,' said the wife. 'I shall not know what to say.'

' Well, then, stay at home, if you like,' answered Abu Nowas, 'and I will ask to be admitted to the Sultan's presence, and will tell him, with sobs, that my wife is dead, and that I have no money for her burial. When he hears that perhaps he will give us something.'

'Yes, that is a good plan,' said the wife; and Abu Nowas set out. The Sultan was sitting in the hall of justice when Abu Nowas entered, his eyes streaming with tears, for he had rubbed some pepper into them. They smarted dreadfully, and he could hardly see to walk straight, and everyone wondered what was the matter with him.

'Abu Nowas! What has happened ?' cried the Sultan.

'O noble Sultan, my wife is dead,' wept he.

'We must all die,' answered the Sultan; but this was not the reply for which Abu Nowas had hoped.

'True, O Sultan, but I have neither shroud to wrap her in, nor money to bury her with,' went on Abu Nowas, in no way abashed by the way the Sultan had received his news.

'Well, give him a hundred pieces of gold,' said the Sultan, turning to the Grand Vizier. And when the money was counted out Abu Nowas bowed low, and left the hall, his tears still flowing, but with joy in his heart.

'Have you got anything?' cried his wife, who was waiting for him anxiously.

'Yes, a hundred gold pieces,' said he, throwing down the bag, 'but that will not last us any time. Now you must go to the Sultana, clothed in sackcloth and robes of mourning, and tell her that your husband, Abu Nowas, is dead, and you have no money for his burial. When she hears that, she will be sure to ask you what has become of the money and the fine clothes she gave us on our marriage, and you will answer, "before he died he sold everything",' The wife did as she was told, and wrapping herself in sackcloth went up to the Sultana's own palace, and as she was known to have been one of Subida's favourite attendants, she was taken without difficulty into the private apartments.

'What is the matter?' inquired the Sultana, at the sight of the dismal figure. 'My husband lies dead at home, and he has spent all our money, and sold everything, and I have nothing left to bury him with,’ sobbed the wife. Then Subida took up a purse containing two hundred gold pieces, and said, ‘Your husband served us long and faithfully. You must see that he has a fine funeral.'

The wife took the money, and, kissing the feet of the Sultana, she joyfully hastened home. They spent some happy hours planning how they should spend it, and thinking how clever they had been.

'When the Sultan goes this evening to Subida's palace,’ said Abu Nowas, 'she will be sure to tell him that Abu Nowas is dead.

"Not Abu Nowas, it is his wife," he will reply, and they will quarrel over it, and all the time we shall be sitting here enjoying ourselves. Oh, if they only knew, how angry they would be!' As Abu Nowas had foreseen, the Sultan went, in the evening after his business was over, to pay his usual visit to the Sultana.

‘Poor Abu Nowas is dead!’ said Subida when he entered the room. 'It is not Abu Nowas, but his wife who is dead,’ answered the Sul­tan.

'No; really you are quite wrong. She came to tell me herself only a couple of hours ago,' replied Subida, ‘and as he had spent all their money, I gave her something to bury him with.'

'You must be dreaming,' exclaimed the Sultan. 'Soon after midday Abu Nowas came into the hall, his eyes streaming with tears, and when I asked him the reason he answered that his wife was dead, and they had sold everything they had, and he had nothing left, not so much as would buy her a shroud, far less pay for her burial.' For a long time they talked, and neither would listen to the other, till the Sultan sent for the door-keeper and bade him go instantly to the house of Abu Nowas and see if it was the man or his wife who was dead. But Abu Nowas happened to be sitting with his wife behind the latticed window, which looked on the street, and he saw the man coming, and sprang up at once.

'There is the Sultan's door-keeper! They have sent him here to find out the truth. Quick! throw yourself on the bed and pretend that you are dead.' And in a moment the wife was stretched out stiffly, with a linen sheet spread across her, like a corpse. She was only just in time, for the sheet was hardly drawn across her when the door opened and the porter came in.

'Has anything hap­pened?' asked he.

‘My poor wife is dead,’ replied Abu Nowas.

‘Look! she is laid out here.’ And the porter approached the bed, which was in a corner of the room, and saw the stiff form lying underneath.

‘We must all die,' said he, and went back to the Sultan.

'Well, have you found out which of them is dead?’ asked the Sultan.

‘Yes, noble Sultan; it is the wife,’ replied the porter.

'He only says that to please you,' cried Subida in a rage; and calling to her chamberlain, she ordered him to go at once to the dwelling of Abu Nowas and see which of the two was dead. 'And be sure you tell the truth about it,' added she, ‘or it will be the worse for you.' As her chamberlain drew near the house, Abu Nowas caught sight of him.

'There is the Sultana's chamberlain,' he exclaimed in a fright.

'Now it is my turn to die. Be quick and spread the sheet over me.' And he laid himself on the bed, and held his breath when the cham­berlain came in.' What are you weeping for?' asked the man, finding the wife in tears.

'My husband is dead,' answered she, pointing to the bed; and the chamberlain drew back the sheet and beheld Abu Nowas lying stiff and motionless. Then he gently replaced the sheet and returned to the palace.

'Well, have you found out this time?' asked the Sultan.

'My lord, it is the husband who is dead.'

'But I tell you he was with me only a few hours ago,' cried the Sultan angrily. 'I must get to the bottom of this before I sleep! Let my golden coach be brought round at once.' The coach was before the door in another five minutes, and the Sultan and Sultana both got in. Abu Nowas had ceased being a dead man, and was looking into the street when he saw the coach coming.

‘Quick! quick!' he called to his wife.

'The Sultan will be here direct­ly, and we must both be dead to receive him.' So they lay down, pulled the sheet over themselves, and held their breath. At that instant the Sultan entered, followed by the Sultana and the chamberlain, and he went up to the bed and found the bodies stiff and motionless.' I would give a thousand gold pieces to anyone who would tell me the truth about this,’ cried he. At these words Abu Nowas sat up. ‘Give them to me, then,’ said he, holding out his hand. ‘You cannot give them to anyone who needs them more.’
‘O Abu Nowas, you impudent dog!’ exclaimed the Sultan, bursting into laughter, in which the Sultana joined. ‘I might have known it was one of your tricks!’ But he sent Abu Nowas the gold he had promised, and let us hope that it did not fly so fast as the first had done.

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Fairy story - The Enchanted Knife

Once upon a time there lived a young man who vowed he would never marry any girl who had not royal blood in her veins. One day he plucked up all his courage and went to the palace to ask the Emperor for his daughter.

The Emperor was not much pleased at the thought of such a match for his only child, but being very polite, he only said:‘Very well, my son, if you can win the Princess you shall have her, and the conditions are these. In eight days you must manage to tame and bring to me three houses that have never felt a master. The first is pure white, the second foxy-red with a black head, the third coal black with white head and feet. And besides that, you must also bring as a present to the Empress, my wife, as much gold as the three horses can carry.'

The young man listened in dismay to these words, but with an effort he thanked the Emperor for his kindness and left the palace, wondering how he was to fulfil the task allotted to him. Luckily for him, the Emperor's daughter had overheard everything her father had said, and peeping through a curtain had seen the youth and thought him handsomer than anyone she had ever beheld. So returning has­tily to her own room, she wrote him a letter which she gave to a trusty servant to deliver, begging him to come to her rooms early the next day, and to undertake nothing without her advice, if he ever wished her to be his wife.

That night, when her father was asleep, she crept softly into his chamber and took out an enchanted knife from the chest where he kept his treasures, and hid it carefully in a safe place before she went to bed. The sun had hardly risen the following morning when the Prin­cess's nurse brought the young man to her apartments. Neither spoke for some minutes, but stood holding each other's hands for joy, till at last they both cried out that nothing but death should part them. Then the maiden gave him the enchanted knife and said:
'Take also my horse, and ride straight through the wood towards the sunset till you come to a hill with three peaks. When you get there, turn first to the right and then to the left, and you will find yourself in a meadow where many horses are feeding. From these you must pick out the three described to you by my father. If they prove shy, and refuse to let you get near them, draw out your-knife and let the sun shine on it so that the whole meadow is lit up by its rays, and the horses will then approach you of their own accord, and will let you lead them away. When you have them safely, look about till you see a cypress tree, whose roots are of brass, whose boughs are of silver, and whose leaves are of gold. Go to it, and cut away the roots with your knife, and you will come to countless bags of gold. Load the horses with all they can carry, and return to my father, and tell him that you have done your task, and can claim me for your wife.’
The Princess had finished all she had to say, and now it depended on the young man to do his part. He hid the knife in the folds of his girdle, mounted his horse, and rode off in search of the meadow. This he found without much difficulty, but the horses were all so shy that they galloped away directly he approached them. Then he drew the knife, and held it up towards the sun, and directly there shone such a glory that the whole meadow was bathed in it. From all sides the horses rushed pressing round, and each one that passed him fell on its knees to do him honour. But he chose from them all only the three that the Emperor had described. These he secured by a silken rope to his own horse, and then looked about for the cypress tree. It was standing by itself in one corner, and in a moment he was beside it, tearing away the earth with the knife. Deeper and deeper he dug, till far down, below the roots of brass, his knife struck upon the buried treasure, which lay heaped up in bags all around. With a great effort he lifted them from their hiding place, and laid them one by one on his horses' backs, and when they could carry no more he led them back to the Emperor. And when the Emperor saw him, he wondered, but never guessed how it was the young man had been too clever for him, till the betrothal ceremony was over. Then he asked his newly-made son-in-law what dowry he would require with his bride. To which the bridegroom made answer, 'Noble Emperor! All I desire is that I may have your daughter for my wife, and enjoy for ever the use of your enchanted knife.'

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Fairy story - The 5 Wise Words of the Guru

Once there lived a handsome young man named Ram Singh, who, though a favourite with everyone, was unhappy because he had a scold for a stepmother. All day long she went on talking, until the youth was driven so distracted that he determined to go away some­where and seek his fortune. No sooner had he decided to leave his home than he made his plans, and the very next morning he started off with a few clothes in a bundle, and a little money in his pocket.

But there was one person in the village to whom he wished to say good-bye, and that was a wise old guru, or teacher, who had taught him much. So he turned his face first of all towards his master's hut, and before the sun was well up he was knocking at his door. The old man received his pupil affectionately; but he was wise in reading faces, and saw at once that the youth was in trouble.

‘My son,’ said he, ‘what is the matter?'

‘Nothing, father,’ replied the young man, ' but I have determined to go into the world and seek my fortune.'

‘Be advised,' returned the guru, ‘and remain in your father's house; it is better to have half a loaf at home than to seek a whole in distant countries.’

But Ram Singh was in no mood to heed such counsel, and very soon the old man ceased to press him.

‘Well,' said he at last, 'if your mind is made up I suppose you must have your way. But listen carefully, and remember these five rules which I will give you in parting; if you keep these no evil shall befall you. First - always obey without question the orders of him whose service you enter; second - never speak harshly or unkindly to anyone; third - never lie; fourth - never try to appear the equal of those above you in station; and fifth - wherever you go, if you meet those who read or teach from the holy books, stay and listen, if but for a few minutes, that you may be strengthened in the path of duty.'

Then Ram Singh started out upon his journey, promising to bear in mind the old man’s words. After some days he came to a great city. He had spent all the money which he had at starting, and therefore resolved to look for work, however humble it might be. Catching sight of a prosperous-looking merchant standing in front of a shop full of grain of all kinds, Ram Singh went up to him and asked whether he could give him anything to do.

The merchant gazed at him so long that the young man began to lose heart, but at length he answered: ‘Yes, of course; there is a place waiting for you.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Ram Singh. 'Why,' replied the other, ‘yesterday our Rajah's Chief Wazir dis­missed his body servant and is wanting another. Now you are just the sort of person that he needs, for you are young and tall and handsome; I advise you to apply there.'

Thanking the merchant for this advice, the young man set out at once for the Wazir's house, and soon managed, thanks to his good looks and appearance, to be engaged as the great man's servant.

One day, soon after this, the Rajah of the place started on a journey and the Chief Wazir accompanied him. With them was an army of servants and attendants, soldiers, muleteers, camel-drivers, mer­chants with grain and stores for man and beast, singers to make enter­tainment by the way and musicians to accompany them, besides elephants, camels, horses, mules, ponies, donkeys, goats, and carts and wagons of every kind and description, so that it seemed more like a large town on the march than anything else. Thus they travelled for several days, till they entered a country that was like a sea of sand, where the swirling dust floated in clouds, and men and beasts were half choked by it.

Towards the close of that day they came to a village, and when the headmen hurried out to salute the Rajah and to pay him their respects, they began, with very long and serious faces, to explain that, whilst they and all that they had were of course at the disposal of the Rajah, the coming of so large a company had nevertheless put them into a dreadful difficulty because they had never a well nor spring of water in their country; and they had no water to give drink to such an army of men and beasts!Great fear fell upon the host at the words of the headmen, but the Rajah merely told the Wazir that he must get water somehow, and that settled the matter so far as he was concerned. The Wazir sent off in haste for all the oldest men in the place, and began to question them as to whether there were no wells nearby.

They all looked helplessly at each other, and said nothing; but at length one old grey-beard replied: 'Truly, Sir Wazir, there is, within a mile or two of this village, a well which some former king made hundreds of years ago. It is, they say, great and inexhaustible, covered in by heavy stone-work and with a flight of steps leading down to the water in the very bowels of the earth; but no man ever goes near it because it is haunted by evil spirits, and it is known that whoso goes down the well shall never be seen again.'

The Wazir stroked his beard and considered a moment. Then he turned to Ram Singh who stood behind his chair.

‘There is a proverb,' said he, ‘that no man can be trusted until he has been tried. Go you and get the Rajah and his people water from this well.'

Then there flashed into Ram Singh's mind the first counsel of the old guru – ‘Always obey without question the orders of him whose service you enter.'

So he replied at once that he was ready, and left to prepare for his adventure. Two great brazen vessels he fastened to a mule, two lesser ones he bound upon his shoulders, and thus provided he set out, with the old villager for his guide. In a short time they came within sight of some big trees towering above the barren country, whilst under their shadow lay the dome of an ancient building.

This the guide pointed out as the well, but excused himself from going farther as he was an old man and tired, and it was already nearly sun­set, so that he must be returning home. So Ram Singh bade him farewell, and went on alone with the mule. Arrived at the trees, Ram Singh tied up his beast, lifted the vessels from his shoulder, and having found the opening of the well, descen­ded by a flight of steps which led down into the darkness. The steps were broad white slabs of alabaster which gleamed in the shadows as he went lower and lower. All was very silent. Even the sound of his bare feet upon the stone seemed to wake an echo in that lonely place, and when one of the vessels which he carried slipped and fell upon the steps it clanged so loudly that he jumped at the noise.

Still he went on, until at last he reached a wide pool of sweet water, and there he washed his jars with care before he filled them, and began to remount the steps with the lighter vessels, as the big ones were so heavy he could only take up one at a time. Suddenly, something moved above him, and looking up he saw a great giant standing on the stairway! In one hand he held clasped to his heart a dreadful-looking mass of bones, in the other was a lamp which cast long shadows about the walls, and made him seem even more terrible than he really was.

‘What think you, O mortal,’ said the giant, ‘of my fair and lovely wife?’

And he held the light towards the bones in his arms and looked lovingly at them. Now I must tell you that this poor giant had had a very beautiful wife, whom he had loved dearly; but, when she died, he refused to believe in her death, and always carried her about long after she had become nothing but bones.

Ram Singh of course did not know of this, but there came to his mind the second wise saying of the guru, which forbade him to speak harshly or inconsiderately to others; so he re­plied: ‘Truly, sir, I am sure you could find nowhere such another.' 'Ah, what eyes you have!’ cried the delighted giant, 'you at least can see! I do not know how often I have slain those who insulted her by saying she was but dried bones! You are a fine young man, and I will help you.’

So saying, he laid down the bones with great tenderness, and snatch­ing up the huge brass vessels, carried them up again, and replaced them with such ease that it was all done by the time that Ram Singh had reached the open air with the smaller ones.

'Now,' said the giant, 'you have pleased me, and you may ask of me one favour, and whatever you wish I will do it for you. Perhaps you would like me to show you where lies buried the treasure of dead kings?' he added eagerly. But Ram Singh shook his head at the mention of buried wealth.

'The favour that I would ask,' said he, 'is that you will leave off haunting this well, so that men may go in and out and obtain water,'

Perhaps the giant expected some favour more difficult to grant, for his face brightened, and he promised to depart at once; and as Ram Singh went off through the gathering darkness with his precious burden of water, he beheld the giant striding away with the bones of his dead wife in his arms. Great was the wonder and rejoicing in the camp when Ram Singh returned with the water. He never said anything, however, about his adventure with the giant, but merely told the Rajah that there was nothing to prevent the well being used; and used it was, and nobody ever saw any more of the giant.
The Rajah was so pleased with the bearing of Ram Singh that he ordered the Wazir to give the young man to him in exchange for one of his own servants. So Ram Singh became the Rajah's attendant; and as the days went by the Rajah became more and more delighted with the youth because, mindful of the old guru's third counsel, he was always honest and spoke the truth. He grew in favour rapidly, until at last the Rajah made him his treasurer, and thus he reached a high place in the court and had wealth and power in his hands. Unluckily the Rajah had a brother who was a very bad man; and this brother thought that if he could win the young treasurer over to himself he might by this means manage to steal little by little any of the Rajah's treasure which he needed.

Then, with plenty of money, he could bribe the soldiers and some of the Rajah's counsellors, head a rebel­lion, dethrone and kill his brother, and reign himself instead. He was too wary, of course, to tell Ram Singh anything of these wicked plans; but he began by flattering him whenever he saw him, and at last offered him his daughter in marriage. But Ram Singh remembered the fourth counsel of the old guru - never to try to appear the equal of those above him in station - therefore he respectfully declined the great honour of marrying a Princess. Of course the Rajah's brother, rebuffed at the very beginning of his enterprise, was furious, and de­termined to work Ram Singh's ruin. So, entering the Rajah's presence, he told him a tissue of lies about Ram Singh: how he had spoken insultingly about his royal master and also about the Princess.

What it was all about nobody knew, and, as it was not true, the wicked Prince did not know either; but the Rajah grew very angry and red in the face as he listened, and declared that until the treasurer's head was cut off neither he nor the Princess nor his brother would eat or drink. ‘But,' added he, ‘I do not wish anyone to know that this is done by my desire, and anyone who mentions the subject will be severely punished.’

And with that the Prince was forced to be content. Then the Rajah sent for an officer of his guard, and told him to take some soldiers and ride at once to a tower which was being erected just outside the town, and if anyone should come to inquire when the building was going to be finished, or should ask any other questions about it, the officer must chop his head off, and bring it to him. As for the body, that could be buried on the spot. The old officer thought these instructions rather odd, but it was no business of his, so he saluted, and went off to do his master's bidding. Early in the morning the Rajah, who had not slept all night, sent for Ram Singh, and bade him go to the new hunting-tower, and ask the people there how it was getting on and when it was going to be finished, and to hurry back with the answer. Away went Ram Singh upon his errand, but, on the road, as he was passing a little temple on the outskirts of the city, he heard someone inside reading aloud; and, remembering the guru's fifth counsel, he just stepped inside and sat down to listen for a minute. He did not mean to stay longer, but became so deeply interested in the wisdom of the teacher, that he sat, and sat, and sat, while the sun rose higher and higher. In the meantime, the wicked Prince, who dared not disobey the Rajah's command, was feeling very hungry; and as for the Princess, she was quietly crying in a corner waiting for the news of Ram Singh's death, so that she might eat her breakfast.Hours passed, and stare as he might from the window no messenger could be seen.

At last the Prince could bear it no longer, and hastily disguising himself so that no one should recognise him, he jumped on a horse and galloped out to the hunting-tower, where the Rajah had told him that the execution was to take place. But, when he got there, there was no execution going on. There were only some men engaged in building, and a number of soldiers idly watching them. He forgot that he had disguised himself and that no one would know him, so, riding up, he cried out:
'Now then, you men, why are you idling about here instead of finishing what you came to do? When is it to be done?'

At his words the soldiers looked at the commanding officer, who was standing a little apart from the rest. Unperceived by the Prince he made a slight sign, a sword flashed in the sun, and off flew a head on the ground beneath! As part of the Prince's disguise had been a thick beard, the men did not recognise the dead man as the Rajah's brother; but they wrapped the head in a cloth, and buried the body as their commander bade them. When this was ended, the officer took the cloth bundle, and rode off in the direction of the palace. Meanwhile the Rajah came home from his council, and to his great surprise found neither head nor brother awaiting him; as time passed, he became uneasy, and thought that he had better go himself and see what the matter was. So ordering his horse he rode off alone. It happened that, just as the Rajah came near to the temple where Ram Singh still sat, the young treasurer, hearing the sound of a horse's hoofs, looked over his shoulder and saw that the rider was the Rajah himself! Feeling much ashamed for having forgotten his errand, he jumped up and hurried out to meet his master, who reined up his horse, and seemed very surprised (as indeed he was) to see him. At that moment there arrived the officer of the guard carrying his parcel. He saluted the Rajah gravely, and, dismounting, laid the bundle in the road and began to undo the wrappings, whilst the Rajah watched him with wonder and interest.

When the last string was undone, and the head of his brother was displayed to his view, the Rajah sprang from his horse and caught the soldier by the arm. As soon as he could speak he questioned the man as to what had occurred, and little by little a dark suspicion came to him. Then, briefly telling the soldier that he had done well, the Rajah drew Ram Singh to one side, and in a few minutes learned from him how, in attending to the guru's counsel, he had delayed to do the Rajah's message.
In the end the Rajah found from some papers the proofs of his dead brother's treachery; and Ram Singh easily established his inno­cence and integrity. He continued to serve the Rajah for many years with unswerving fidelity; and married a maiden of his own rank in life, with whom he lived happily, honoured and loved by all men. Sons were born to him; and, in time, to them also he taught the five wise sayings of the old guru.

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Fairy story - The Fortunes of Moti

Once upon a time there was a youth called Moti. He was very big and strong, but he was also the clumsiest creature you can imagine.

So clumsy was he that he was always putting his great feet into the bowls of sweet milk or curds which his mother set out on the floor to cool, always smashing, upsetting, breaking, until at last his father said to him: 'Here, Moti, here are fifty silver pieces which are the savings of years: take them and go away from us and make your living or your fortune if you can.’

So Moti started off with his thick staff over his shoulder, singing gaily to himself as he walked along. In one way and another he got along very well until a hot evening when he came to a certain city where he entered the travellers' ' serai' or inn to pass the night.

Now a serai, you must know, is generally just a large square enclosed by a high wall with an open colonnade along the inside all round to accommodate both men and beasts, and with perhaps a few rooms in towers at the corners for those who are too rich or too proud to care about sleeping by their own camels and horses.

Moti, of course, was a country lad and had lived with cattle all his life, and he wasn't rich and he wasn't proud, so he just bor­rowed a bed from the innkeeper, set it down beside an old buffalo who reminded him of home, and in five minutes was fast asleep. In the middle of the night he woke, feeling that he had been dis­turbed, and putting his hand under his pillow found to his horror that his bag of money had been stolen. He jumped up quietly and began to prowl around to see whether anyone seemed to be awake, but, though he managed to arouse a few men and beasts by falling over them, he walked in the shadow of the archways round the whole serai without coming across a likely thief.

He was just about to give it up when he overheard two men whispering, and one laughed softly, and, peering behind a pillar, he saw two Afghan horse-dealers coun­ting out his bag of money! Then Moti went back to bed. In the morning Moti followed the two Afghans outside the city to the horsemarket in which their horses were offered for sale.

Choosing the best-looking horse amongst them he went up to it and asked: 'Is this horse for sale? may I try it?' and, the Afghans assenting, he scrambled up on its back, dug in his heels, and off they flew.

Now Moti had never been on a horse in his life, and had so much ado to hold on with both hands as well as with both legs that the animal went just where it liked, and very soon broke into a break-neck gallop and made straight back to the serai where it had spent the last few nights. 'This will do very well,' thought Moti as they whirled in at the entrance.

As soon as the horse arrived it stopped of its own accord and Moti immediately rolled off; but he jumped up at once, tethered the beast, and called for some breakfast.

Presently the Afghans appeared, out of breath and furious, and claimed the horse.

‘What do you mean?' cried Moti, with his mouth full of rice, 'it's my horse; I paid you fifty pieces of silver for it - quite a bargain, I'm sure!'

'Nonsense! it is our horse,' answered one of the Afghans, beginning to untie the bridle.

'Leave off!' shouted Moti, seizing his staff.

'If you don't let my horse alone I'll crack your skulls! You thieves! I know you! Last night you took my money, so today I took your horse; that's fair enough!'
Now the Afghans began to look a little uncomfortable, but Moti seemed so determined to keep the horse that they resolved to appeal to the law, so they went off and laid a complaint before the King that Moti had stolen one of their horses and would not give it up or pay for it. Presently a soldier came to summon Moti to the King; and, when he arrived and made his obeisance, the King began to question him as to why he had galloped off with the horse in this fashion.

But Moti declared that he had got the animal in exchange for fifty pieces of silver, whilst the horse merchants vowed that the money they had on them was what they had received for the sale of other horses; and in one way and another the dispute got so confusing that the King (who really thought that Moti had stolen the horse) said at last, 'Well, I tell you what I will do. I will lock something into this box before me, and if he guesses what it is, the horse is his, and if he doesn't, then it is yours.'

To this Moti agreed, and the King arose and went out alone by a little door at the back of the court, and presently came back clasping something wrapped up in a cloth under his robe, slipped it into the little box, locked the box, and set it up where all might see.

'Now,' said the King to Moti, 'guess!'

It happened that when the King had opened the door behind him, Moti noticed that there was a garden outside: without waiting for the King's return, he began to think what could be got out of the garden small enough to be shut in the box. Is it likely to be a fruit or a flower? No, not a flower this time, for he clasped it too tight. Then it must be a fruit or a stone. Yet not a-stone, because he wouldn't wrap a dirty stone in his nice clean cloth. Then it is a fruit! And a fruit without much scent, or else he would be afraid that I might smell it. Now what fruit without much scent is in season just now? When I know that I shall have guessed the riddle!' As has been said before, Moti was a country lad, and was accus­tomed to work in his father's garden.

He knew all the common fruits, so he thought he ought to be able to guess right; but so as not to let it seem too easy, he gazed up at the ceiling with a puzzled expression, and looked down at the floor with an air of wisdom and his fingers pressed against his forehead, and then he said, slowly, with his eyes on the King: ‘It is freshly picked! It is round and it is red! It is a pomegranate!' Now the King knew nothing about fruits except that they were good to eat; and, as for seasons, he asked for whatever fruit he wanted whenever he wanted it, and saw that he got it; so to him Moti's guess was like a miracle, and clear proof not only of his wisdom but of his innocence, for it was a pomegranate that he had put into the box. Of course when the King marvelled and praised Moti's wisdom, everybody else did too; and, whilst the Afghans went off crestfallen, Moti took the horse and entered the King's service.

Very soon after this, Moti, who continued to live in the serai, came back one wet and stormy evening to find that his precious horse had strayed. Nothing remained of him but a broken halter cord, and no one knew what had become of him. After inquiring of everyone who was likely to know, Moti seized the cord and his big staff and sallied out to look for him.

Away and away he tramped out of the city and into the neighbouring forest, tracking hoof-marks in the mud. Pre­sently it grew late, but still Moti wandered on until suddenly in the gathering darkness he came right upon a tiger who was contentedly eating his horse.

'You thief!’ shrieked Moti, and ran up, and, just as the tiger, in astonishment, dropped a bone - whack! came Moti's staff on his head with such good will that the beast was half stunned and could hardly breathe or see.

Then Moti continued to shower upon him blows and abuse until the poor tiger could hardly stand, whereupon Moti tied the end of the broken halter round his neck and dragged him back to the serai.

‘If you had my horse,’ he said, ‘I will at least have you, that's fair enough!'

And he tied him up securely by the head and feet, much as he used to tie the horse; then, the night being far gone, he flung himself beside the tiger and slept soundly. You cannot imagine anything like the fright of the people in the serai, when they woke up and found a tiger - very battered but still a tiger - tethered amongst themselves and their beasts!

Men gathered in groups talking and exclaiming, and finding fault with the innkeeper for allowing such a dangerous beast into the serai, and all the while the innkeeper was just as troubled as the rest, and none dared go near the place where the tiger stood blinking miserably on everyone, and where Moti lay stretched out snoring like thunder.

At last news reached the King that Moti had exchanged his horse for a live tiger; and the monarch himself came down, half disbelieving the tale, to see if it were really true. Someone at last awakened Moti with the news that his royal master was come; and he arose yawning, and was soon delightedly explaining and showing off his new posses­sion.

The King, however, did not share his pleasure at all, but called up a soldier to shoot the tiger, much to the relief of all the inmates of the serai except Moti. If the King, however, was before convinced that Moti was one of the wisest of men, he was now still more con­vinced that he was the bravest, and he increased his pay a hundred­fold, so that our hero thought that he was the luckiest of men. A week or two after this incident the King sent for Moti, who on arrival found his master in despair. A neighbouring monarch, he explained, who had many more soldiers than he, had declared war against him, and he was at his wits’ end, for he had neither money to buy him off nor soldiers enough to fight him - what was he to do?

'If that is all, don't you trouble,’ said Moti. ‘Turn out your men, and I’ll go with them, and we'll soon bring this robber to reason.' The King began to revive at these hopeful words, and took Moti off to his stable where he bade him choose for himself any horse he liked.

There were plenty of fine horses in the stalls, but to the King's astonishment Moti chose a poor little rat of a pony that was used to carry grass and water for the rest of the stable.

‘But why do you choose that beast?' said the King.

'Well, you see, your majesty,' replied Moti, ‘there are so many chances that I may fall off, and if I choose one of your fine big horses I shall have so far to fall that I shall probably break my leg or my arm, if not my neck, but if I fall off this little beast I can't hurt myself much.'

A very comical sight was Moti when he rode out to the war. The only weapon he carried was his staff, and to help him to keep his balance on horseback he had tied to each of his ankles a big stone that nearly touched the ground as he sat astride the little pony. The rest of the King's cavalry were not very numerous, but they pranced along in armour on fine horses. Behind them came a great rabble of men on foot armed with all sorts of weapons, and last of all was the King with his attendants, very nervous and ill at ease.

So the army started. They had not very far to go, but Moti's little pony, weighted with a heavy man and two big rocks, soon began to lag behind the cavalry, and would have lagged behind the infantry too, only they were not very anxious to be too early in the fight, and hung back so as to give Moti plenty of time. The young man jogged along more and more slowly for some time, until at last, getting impatient at the slowness of the pony, he gave him such a tremendous thwack with his staff that the pony completely lost his temper and bolted. First one stone be­came untied and rolled away in a cloud of dust to one side of the road, whilst Moti nearly rolled off too, but clasped his steed valiantly by its ragged mane, and, dropping his staff, held on for dear life. Then fortunately the other rock broke away from his other leg and rolled thunderously down a neighbouring ravine.

Meanwhile the advanced cavalry had barely time to draw to one side when Moti came dashing by, yelling bloodthirsty threats to his pony: ‘You wait till I get hold of you! I'll skin you alive! I’ll wring your neck! I'll break every bone in your body!’

The cavalry thought that this dreadful language was meant for the enemy, and were filled with admiration of his courage. Many of their horses too were quite upset by this whirlwind that galloped howling through their midst, and in a few minutes, after a little plunging and rearing and kicking, the whole troop were following on Moti's heels. Far in advance, Moti continued his wild career. Presently in his course he came to a great field of castor-oil plants, ten or twelve feet high, big and bushy, but quite green and soft. Hoping to escape from the back of his fiery steed Moti grasped one in passing, but its roots gave way, and he dashed on, with the whole plant looking like a young tree flourishing in his grip. The enemy were in battle array, advancing over the plain, their King with them, confident and cheerful, when suddenly from the front came a desperate rider at a furious gallop.

‘Sire!' he cried, ‘save yourself! The enemy are coming!' ‘What do you mean?’ said the King.

'Oh, sire!' panted the messenger, 'fly at once, there is no time to lose. Foremost of the enemy rides a mad giant at a furious gallop.

He flourishes a tree for a club and is wild with anger, for as he goes he cries, "You wait till I get hold of you! I'll skin you alive! I'll wring your neck! I'll break every bone in your body!"

Others ride behind, and you will do well to retire before this whirlwind of destruction comes upon you.’
Just then out of a cloud of dust in the distance the King saw Moti approaching at a hard gallop, looking indeed like a giant compared with the little beast he rode, whirling his castor-oil plant, which in the distance might have been an oak tree, and the sound of his revilings and shoutings came down upon the breeze! Behind him the dust cloud moved to the sound of the thunder of hoofs, whilst here and there flashed the glitter of steel.

The sight and the sound struck terror into the King, and, turning his horse, he fled at top speed, thinking that a regiment of yelling giants was upon him; and all his force followed him as fast as they might go. One fat officer alone could not keep up on foot with that mad rush, and as Moti came galloping up he flung himself to the ground in abject fear. This was too much for Moti's excited pony, who shied so suddenly that Moti went flying over his head like a sky rocket, and alighted right on the top of his fat foe.

Quickly regaining his feet Moti began to swing his plant round his head and to shout:‘Where are your men? Bring them up and I’ll kill them. My regi­ments! Come on, the whole lot of you! Where's your King? Bring him to me. Here are all my fine fellows coming up and we'll each pull up a tree by the roots and lay you all flat and your houses and towns and everything else! Come on!'

But the poor fat officer could do nothing but squat on his knees with his hands together, gasping. At last, when he got his breath, Moti sent him off to bring his King, and to tell him that if he was reasonable his life should be spared. Off the poor man went, and by the time the troops of Moti's side had come up and arranged themselves to look as formidable as possible, he returned with his King. The latter was very humble and apologetic, and promised never to make war any more, to pay a large sum of money, and altogether do what­ever his conqueror wished.
So the armies on both sides went rejoicing home, and this was really the making of the fortune of clumsy Moti, who lived long and contrived always to be looked up to as a fountain of wisdom, valour, and discretion by all except his relations, who could never understand what he had done to be considered so much wiser than anyone else.

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Fairy story - Shen I

Long ago when Yao was emperor of the Middle Kingdom he one day sighted a large dragon flying through the clouds. Seated on its back was a beautiful young maiden.
Curious as to who she was, the emperor sent his greatest archer, Shen I after them. Shen I, who had magic wings, flew after them until he reached a large portal set into a huge mountain.
The entrance was guarded by a ferocious beast which Shen I quickly killed with his bow. He then entered the portal and saw before him a beautiful woman surrounded by many lovely fairies. He realized that he was in the presence of Hsi-wang mu, the Queen-mother of all of the fairies.
When asked the purpose of his visit he explained that the emperor had sent him in search of the young maiden who rode through the heavens on a dragon's back. The queen informed him that the maiden was her daughter and invited him to join them in a feast.
To show his appreciation for being treated as a special guest, Shen I with the help of the fairies, built for the queen and her fairies sixteen palaces of white jade, agate and fragrant wood.
As a parting gift he was given a Pill of Immortality which would give him eternal youth. On returning home he put the pill away meaning to take it later.
Before he had a chance, however, his wife, Chang O, found the pill and swallowed it. At once she became immortal and rose in the air until she disappeared on the moon.
Dizzy from her flight she vomited the outer coating of the pill and it turned into a white hare. Ever after that the lady lived on the moon in her cold Crystal Palace with a small white hare at her side.
The gods took pity on Shen I who had lost both his wife and the pill and flew him to the Palace of the Sun. There they presented him with a golden plumaged bird as a net. It is this bird who daily awakens the people on earth with his crowing.

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Fairy story - Grasp All, Lose All

Once, in former times, there lived in a certain city in India a poor oil-seller, called Dena, who never could keep any money in his pock­ets; and when the story begins he had borrowed from a banker, of the name of Lena, the sum of one hundred rupees; which, with the interest Lena always charged, amounted to a debt of three hundred rupees.

Now business for Dena was very bad, and he had no money with which to pay his debt, so Lena was very angry, and used to come round to Dena's house every evening and abuse him until the poor man was nearly worried out of his life. Lena generally timed his visit just when Dena's wife was cooking the evening meal, and would make such a scene that the poor oil-seller and his wife and daughter quite lost their appetites and could eat nothing.

This went on for some weeks, till, one day, Dena said to himself that he could stand it no longer, and that he had better run away; and, as a man cannot fly easily with a wife and daughter, he thought he must leave them behind. So that evening, instead of turning into his house as usual after his day's work, he just slipped out of the city and without knowing at all where he was going, began to walk through the forest. At about ten o'clock that night Dena came to a well by the roadside, near which grew a giant peepul tree; and, as he was very tired, he determined to climb it, and rest for a little before continuing his journey in the morning. Up he went and curled himself so comfor­tably amongst the great branches that, overcome with weariness, he fell fast asleep.

While he slept, some spirits, who roam about such places on certain nights, picked up the tree and flew away with it to a far-away shore where no creature lived, and there, long before the sun rose, they set it down. Just then the oil-seller awoke; but instead of finding himself in the midst of a forest, he was amazed to behold nothing but waste shore and wide sea, and was dumb with horror and astonishment.While he sat up, trying to collect his senses, he began to catch sight here and there of twinkling, flashing lights, like little fires, that moved and sparkled all about, and he wondered what they were. Pre­sently he saw one so close to him that he reached out his hand and grasped it, and found that it was a sparkling red stone, scarcely smaller than a walnut. He opened a corner of his loin-cloth and tied the stone in it; and by and by he got another, and then a third, and a fourth, all of which he tied up carefully in his cloth. At last, just as day was breaking, the tree rose, and, flying rapidly through the air, came to rest once more by the well where it had stood the previous evening.

When Dena had recovered a little from the fright which the extra­ordinary antics of the tree had caused him, he began to thank Provi­dence that he was alive, and, as his desire to wander had been quite cured, he made his way back to the city and to his own house. Here he was met and soundly scolded by his wife, who assailed him with a hundred questions and reproaches.

As soon as she paused for breath, Dena replied: ‘I have only this one thing to say, just look what I have got!'

And after carefully shutting all the doors, he opened the corner of his loin­cloth and showed her the four stones, which glittered and flashed as he turned them over and over.

‘Pooh!' said his wife,' the silly pebbles! If it was something to eat, now, there'd be some sense in them: but what's the good of such things?'

And she turned away with a sob, for it had happened that the night before, when Lena had come round as usual to storm at Dena, he had been rather disturbed to find that his victim was from home, and had frightened the poor woman by his threats.

Directly, however, he heard that Dena had come back, Lena appeared in the doorway, and shouted at the oil-seller at the top of his voice, until he was tired; then Dena said: ‘If your honour would deign to walk into my humble dwelling, I will speak.'

So Lena walked in, and the other, shutting as before all the doors, untied the corner of his loin-cloth and showed him the four great flashing stones.

'This is all that I have in the world,' he said, 'to set against my debt, for, as your honour knows, I haven't a penny, but the stones are pretty!’

Now Lena looked and saw at once that these were magnificent rubies, and his mouth watered for them; but as it would never do to show what was in his mind, he said: ‘What do I care about your stupid stones? It is my money I want, my lawful debt which you owe me, and I shall get it out of you yet somehow or another or it will be the worse for you.’

To all reproaches Dena could answer nothing but sat with his hands joined together beseechingly, asking for patience and pity. At length Lena pretended that, rather than have a bad debt on his hand, he would be willing to lose by taking the stones in lieu of his money; and, while Dena nearly wept with gratitude, he wrote out a receipt for the three hundred rupees; and, wrapping the four stones in a cloth, he put them into his bosom, and went off to his house. 'How shall I turn these rubies into money?' thought Lena, as he walked along; 'I daren't keep them, for they are of great value, and if the Rajah heard that I had them he could probably put me into prison on some pretence and seize the stones and all else that I have as well. But what a bargain I have got! Four rubies worth a King's ransom, for one hundred rupees! Well, well, I must take heed not to betray my secret.'

And he went on making plans. Presently he made up his mind what to do, and, putting on his cleanest clothes, he set off to the house of the Chief Wazir, whose name was Musli, and, after seeking a private audience, he brought out the four rubies and laid them before him.

The Wazir's eyes sparkled as he beheld the splendid gems. ‘Fine, indeed,' murmured he. ‘I can't buy them at their real value; but, if you like to take it, I will give you ten thousand rupees for the four.'

To this the banker consented gratefully; and, handing over the stones in exchange for the rupees, he hurried home, thanking his stars that he had driven such a reasonable bargain and obtained such an enormous profit. After Lena had departed the Wazir began casting about in his mind what to do with the gems; and very soon determined that the best thing to do was to present them to the Rajah, whose name was Kahre. Without losing a moment, he went that very day to the palace, and sought a private interview with the Rajah; and when he found himself alone with his royal master, he brought the four jewels and laid them before him.

'Oh, ho!’ said the Rajah, ‘these are priceless gems, and you have done well to give them to me. In return I give you and your heirs the revenues of ten villages.’

Now the Wazir was overjoyed at these words, but only made his deepest obeisance; and, while the Rajah put the rubies into his turban, hurried away beaming with happiness at the thought that for ten thousand rupees he had become lord of ten villages. The Rajah was also equally pleased, and strolled off with his new purchases to the women's quarters and showed them to the Rani, who was nearly out of her mind with delight.

Then, as she turned them over and over in her hands, she said, ‘Ah! If I had eight more such gems, what a necklace they would make! Get me eight more of them or I shall die!'

‘Most unreasonable of women,' cried the Rajah, 'where am I to get eight more such jewels as these? I gave ten villages for them, and yet you are not satisfied!'

'What does it matter?' said the Rani. 'Do you want me to die? Surely you can get some more where these came from?'

And then she fell to weeping and wailing until the Rajah promised that in the morning he would make arrangements to get some more such rubies, and that if she would be patient she should have her desire. In the morning the Rajah sent for the Wazir, and said that he must manage to get eight more rubies like those he had brought him the day before.

‘And if you don't, I shall hang you,' cried the Rajah, for he was very cross. The poor Wazir protested in vain that he knew not where to seek them; his master would not listen to a word he said.

‘You must,’ said he. 'The Rani shall not die for the want of a few rubies! Get more where those came from.'

The Wazir left the palace, much troubled in mind, and bade his slaves bring Lena before him. ‘Get me eight more such rubies as those you brought yesterday,' commanded the Wazir, directly the banker was shown into his pre­sence.

‘ Eight more, and be quick, or I am a dead man.'

'But how can I?' wailed Lena. 'Rubies like those don't grow upon bushes!'

'Where did you get them from?' asked the Wazir, 'From Dena, the oil-seller,' said the banker. 'Well, send for him and ask him where he got them,' answered the Wazir. ‘I am not going to hang for twenty Denas!'

And other slaves were sent to summon Dena. When Dena arrived he was closely questioned, and then all three set out to see the Rajah, and to him Dena told the whole story.

'What night was it that you slept in the peepul tree?' demanded the Rajah.

‘I can't remember,' said Dena;' but my wife will know.'

Then Dena's wife was sent for, and she explained that it was on the last Sunday of the newmoon. Now everyone knows that it is on the Sunday of the new moon that spirits have special power to play pranks upon mortals. So the Rajah forbade them all, on pain of death, to say a word to anyone; and declared that, on the next Sunday of the new moon, they four -Kahre, Musli, Lena and Dena - would go and sit in the peepul tree and see what happened. The days dragged on to the appointed Sunday, and that evening the four met secretly, and entered the forest. They had not far to go before they reached the peepul tree, into which they climbed as the Rajah had planned. At midnight the tree began to sway, and presently it moved through the air.

‘See, sire,' whispered Dena.

'The tree is flying!'

‘Yes, yes,' said the Rajah, 'you have told the truth. Now sit quiet, and we shall see what happens.’

Away and away flew the tree with the four men clinging tightly to its branches, until at last it was set down by the waste sea-shore where a great wide sea came tumbling in on a desert beach. Presently, as before, they began to see little points of light that glistened like fires all around them.

Then Dena thought to himself: ‘Think! Last time I only took four that came close to me, and I got rid of all my debt in return. This time I will take all I can get and be rich!'

'If I got ten thousand rupees for four stones,' thought Lena, ‘I will gather forty now for myself, and become so wealthy that they will probably make me a Wazir at least!'

‘For four stones I received ten villages,' Musli was silently thinking; 'now I will get stones enough to purchase a kingdom, be­come a Rajah, and employ wazirs of my own!'

And Kahre thought, ‘What is the good of only getting eight stones? Why, here are enough to make twenty necklaces; and wealth means power!’

Full of avarice and desire, each scrambled down from the tree, spread his cloth, and darted hither and thither picking up the precious jewels, looking the while over his shoulder to see whether his neigh­bour fared better than he. So engrossed were they in the business of gathering wealth that the dawn came upon them unawares; and sud­denly the tree rose up again and flew away, leaving them upon the sea-shore staring after it, each with his cloth heavy with priceless jewels. Morning broke in the city, and great was the consternation in the palace when the chamberlains declared that the Rajah had gone out the evening before and had not returned. ‘Ah!' said one. 'It is all right! Musli Wazir will know where he is, for it was he who was the King's companion.'

Then they went to the Wazir's house, and there they learnt that the Wazir had left it the evening before and had not returned.

‘But,' said a servant, 'Lena the banker will know where he is, for it was with him that Musli went.'

Then they visited the house of Lena, and there they learnt that the banker had gone out the evening before, and that he too had not returned; but the porter told them that he was accompanied by Dena the oil-seller, so he would know where they were. So they departed to Dena's house, and Dena's wife met them with a torrent of reproaches and wailings, for Dena too had gone off the evening before to Lena's house and had not returned. In vain they waited, and searched - never did any of the hapless four return to their homes; and the confused tale which was told by Dena's wife was the only clue to their fate. To this day, in that country, when a greedy man has over-reached himself, and lost all in grasping at too much, folks say:
‘All has he lost! Neither Dena, or Lena, nor Musli, nor Kahre remain.' And not five men in a hundred know how the proverb be­gan, nor what it really signifies.

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