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PAGE

NOTES 237

GLOSSARY 295

LIST OF BOOKS REFERRED TO 297

INDEX 299

INDIAN FAIRY TALES.

PH?LMATI R?N?.

There were once a R?j? and a R?n? who had an only daughter called the Ph?lmati R?n?, or the Pink-rose Queen. She was so beautiful that if she went into a very dark room it was all lighted up by her beauty. On her head was the sun; on her hands, moons; and her face was covered with stars. She had hair that reached to the ground, and it was made of pure gold.

Every day after she had had her bath, her father and mother used to weigh her in a pair of scales. She only weighed one flower. She ate very, very little food. This made her father most unhappy, and he said, "I cannot let my daughter marry any one who weighs more than one flower." Now, God loved this girl dearly, so he went down under the ground to see if any of the fairy R?j?s was fit to be the Ph?lmati R?n?'s husband, and he thought none of them good enough. So he went in the form of a Fak?r to see the great Indr?san R?j? who ruled over all the other fairy R?j?s. This R?j? was exceedingly beautiful. On his head was the sun; and on his hands, moons; and on his face, stars. God made him weigh very little. Then he said to the R?j?, "Come up with me, and we will go to the palace of the Ph?lmati R?n?." God had told the R?j? that he was God and not a Fak?r, for he loved the Indr?san R?j?. "Very well," said the Indr?san R?j?. So they travelled on until they came to the Ph?lmati R?n?'s palace. When they arrived there they pitched a tent in her compound, and they used to walk about, and whenever they saw the Ph?lmati R?n? they looked at her. One day they saw her having her hair combed, so God said to the Indr?san R?j?, "Get a horse and ride where the Ph?lmati R?n? can see you, and if any one asks you who you are, say, 'Oh, it's only a poor Fak?r, and I am his son. We have come to stay here a little while just to see the country. We will go away very soon.'" Well, he got a horse and rode about, and Ph?lmati R?n?, who was having her hair combed in the verandah, said, "I am sure that must be some R?j?; only see how beautiful he is." And she sent one of her servants to ask him who he was. So the servant said to the Indr?san R?j?, "Who are you? why are you here? what do you want?" "Oh, it's only a poor Fak?r, and I am his son. We have just come here for a little while to see the country. We will go away very soon." So the servants returned to the Ph?lmati R?n? and told her what the Indr?san R?j? had said. The Ph?lmati R?n? told her father about this. The next day, when the Ph?lmati R?n? and her father were standing in the verandah, God took a pair of scales and weighed the Indr?san R?j? in them. His weight was only that of one flower! "Oh," said the R?j?, when he saw that, "here is the husband for the Ph?lmati R?n?!" The next day, after the Ph?lmati R?n? had had her bath, her father took her and weighed her, and he also weighed the Indr?san R?j?. And they were each the same weight. Each weighed one flower, although the Indr?san R?j? was fat and the Ph?lmati R?n? thin. The next day they were married, and there was a grand wedding. God said he was too poor-looking to appear, so he bought a quantity of elephants, and camels, and horses, and cows, and sheep, and goats, and made a procession, and came to the wedding. Then he went back to heaven, but before he went he said to the Indr?san R?j? "You must stay here one whole year; then go back to your father and to your kingdom. As long as you put flowers on your ears no danger will come near you." "All right," said the Indr?san R?j?. And God went back to heaven.

So the Indr?san R?j? stayed for a whole year. Then he told the R?j?, the Ph?lmati R?n?'s father, that he wished to go back to his own kingdom. "All right," said the R?j?, and he wanted to give him horses, and camels, and elephants. But the Indr?san R?j? and the Ph?lmati R?n? said they wanted nothing but a tent and a cooly. Well, they set out; but the Indr?san R?j? forgot to put flowers on his ears, and after some days the Indr?san R?j? was very, very tired, so he said, "We will sit down under these big trees and rest awhile. Our baggage will soon be here; it is only a little way behind." So they sat down, and the R?j? said he felt so tired he must sleep. "Very well," said the R?n?; "lay your head in my lap and sleep." After a while a shoemaker's wife came by to get some water from a tank which was close to the spot where the R?j? and R?n? were resting. Now, the shoemaker's wife was very black and ugly, and she had only one eye, and she was exceedingly wicked. The R?n? was very thirsty and she said to the woman, "Please give me some water, I am so thirsty." "If you want any," said the shoemaker's wife, "come to the tank and get it yourself." "But I cannot," said the R?n?, "for the R?j? is sleeping in my lap." At last the poor R?n? got so very, very thirsty, she said she must have some water; so laying the R?j?'s head very gently on the ground she went to the tank. Then the wicked shoemaker's wife, instead of giving her to drink, gave her a push and sent the beautiful R?n? into the water, where she was drowned. The shoemaker's wife then went back to the R?j?, and, taking his head on her knee, sat still until he woke. When the R?j? woke he was much frightened, and he said, "This is not my wife. My wife was not black, and she had two eyes." The poor R?j? felt very unhappy. He said, "I am sure something has happened to my wife." He went to the tank, and he saw flowers floating on the water and he caught them, and as he caught them his own true wife stood before him.

They travelled on till they came to a little house. The shoemaker's wife went with them. They went into the house and laid themselves down to sleep, and the R?j? laid beside him the flowers he had found floating in the tank. The R?n?'s life was in the flowers. As soon as the R?j? and R?n? were asleep, the shoemaker's wife took the flowers, broke them into little bits, and burnt them. The R?n? died immediately, for the second time. Then the poor R?j?, feeling very lonely and unhappy, travelled on to his kingdom, and the shoemaker's wife went after him. God brought the Ph?lmati R?n? to life a second time, and led her to the Indr?san R?j?'s gardener.

One day as the Indr?san R?j? was going out hunting, he passed by the gardener's house, and saw a beautiful girl sitting in it. He thought she looked very like his wife, the Ph?lmati R?n?. So he went home to his father and said, "Father, I should like to be married to the girl who lives in our gardener's house." "All right," said the father; "you can be married at once." So they were married the next day.

One night the shoemaker's wife took a ram, killed it, and put some of its blood on the Ph?lmati R?n?'s mouth while the R?n? slept. The next morning she went to the Indr?san R?j? and said, "Whom have you married? You have married a Rakshas. Just see. She has been eating cows, and sheep, and chickens. Just come and see." The R?j? went, and when he saw the blood on his wife's mouth he was frightened, and he thought she was really a Rakshas. The shoemaker's wife said to him, "If you do not cut this woman in pieces, some harm will happen to you." So the R?j? took a knife and cut his beautiful wife into pieces. He then went away very sorrowful. The Ph?lmati R?n?'s arms and legs grew into four houses; her chest became a tank, and her head a house in the middle of the tank; her eyes turned into two little doves; and these five houses, the tank and the doves, were transported to the jungle. No one knew this. The little doves lived in the house that stood in the middle of the tank. The other four houses stood round the tank.

The R?j? heard all these things, and at midnight the R?n? and her servants came to bathe. The R?j? lay very quiet, and after they all had taken off their dresses and gone into the tank, he jumped up and seized every one of the dresses,--he did not leave one of them,--and ran away as hard as he could. Then each of the servants, who were only fairies, screamed out, "Give me my dress! What are you doing? why do you take it away?" Then the R?j? dropped one by one the yellow dresses and kept the red one. The fairy servants picked up the dresses, and forsook the Ph?lmati R?n? and ran away. The R?j? came back to her with her dress in his hand, and she said, "Oh, give me back my dress. If you keep it I shall die. Three times has God brought me to life, but he will bring me to life no more." The R?j? fell at her feet and begged her pardon, and they were reconciled. And he gave her back her dress. Then they went home, and Indr?san R?j? had the shoemaker's wife cut to pieces, and buried in the jungle. And they lived happily ever after.

Told by Dunkn? at Simla, July 25th, 1876.

THE POMEGRANATE KING.

There was once a Mah?r?j?, called the An?rb?s?, or Pomegranate King; and a Mah?r?n? called the Gul?an?r, or Pomegranate-flower. The Mah?r?n? died leaving two children: a little girl of four or five years old, and a little boy of three. The Mah?r?j? was very sorry when she died, for he loved her dearly. He was exceedingly fond of his two children, and got for them two servants: a man to cook their dinner, and an ayah to take care of them. He also had them taught to read and write. Soon after his wife's death the neighbouring R?j?'s daughter's husband died, and she said if any other R?j? would marry her, she would be quite willing to marry him, and she also said she would like very much to marry the Pomegranate R?j?. So her father went to see the Pomegranate R?j?, and told him that his daughter wished to marry him. "Oh," said the Pomegranate R?j?, "I do not want to marry again, for if I do, the woman I marry will be sure to be unkind to my two children. She will not take care of them. She will not pet them and comfort them when they are unhappy." "Oh," said the other R?j?, "my daughter will be very good to them, I assure you." "Very well," said the Mah?r?j?, "I will marry her." So they were married.

For two or three months everything went on well, but then the new R?n?, who was called the Sunk?s? Mah?r?n?, began to beat the poor children, and to scold their servants. One day she gave the boy such a hard blow on his cheek that it swelled. When the Mah?r?j? came out of his office to get his tiffin, he saw the boy's swollen face, and, calling the two servants, he said, "Who did this? how did my boy get hurt?" They said, "The R?n? gave him such a hard blow on his cheek that it swelled, and she gets very angry with us if we say anything about her ill-treatment of the children, or how she scolds us." The Mah?r?j? was exceedingly angry with his wife for this, and said to her, "I never beat my children. Why should you beat them? If you beat them I will send you away." And he went off to his office in a great rage. The R?n? was very angry. So she told the little girl to go with the ayah to the bazar. The ayah and the little girl set off, never suspecting any evil. As soon as they had gone, the R?n? took the little boy and told him she would kill him. The boy went down on his knees and begged her to spare his life. But she said, "No; your father is always quarrelling with me, beating me, and scolding me, all through your fault." The boy begged and prayed again, saying he would never be naughty any more. The R?n? shook her head, and taking a large knife she cut off his head. She then cut him up and made him into a curry. She then buried his head, and his nails, and his feet in the ground, and she covered them well with earth, and stamped the ground well down so that no one should notice it had been disturbed. When the Pomegranate R?j? came home to his dinner, she put the curry and some rice on the table before him; but the R?j?, seeing his boy was not there, would not eat. He went and looked everywhere for his son, crying very much, and the little girl cried very much too, for she loved her brother dearly. After they had hunted for him for some time, the little boy appeared. His father embraced him. "Where have you been?" said he. "I cannot eat my dinner without you." The little boy said, "Oh, I was in the jungle playing with other boys." They then sat down to dinner, and the curry changed into a kid curry. The R?n? was greatly astonished when she saw the boy. She said to herself, "I cut his head off; I cut him into little pieces, and I made him into a curry, and yet he is alive!" She then went into the garden to see if his head, and nails, and feet were in the hole where she had buried them. But they were not there; it was quite empty. She then called a sepoy, and said to him, "If you will take two children into the jungle and kill them, I will give you as much money as you like." "All right," said the sepoy. She then brought the children, and told him to take them to the jungle. So he took them away to the jungle, but he had not the heart to kill them, for they were exceedingly beautiful, and he left them in the jungle near their dead mother's grave. Then he returned to the R?n?, saying he had done as she wished, and she gave him as much money as he wanted.

The poor Pomegranate R?j? was very unhappy when he saw his children were not in the palace, and that they could not be found. He asked his R?n? where they were, but she said she did not know; they had gone out to play and had never returned. From the day he lost his children the Pomegranate R?j? became melancholy. He did not love the R?n? any more; he hated her.

Meanwhile the children lived in a little house built close to their mother's grave. God had given her life again that she might take care of them. But they did not know she was their mother; they thought she was another woman sent to take care of them. God sent also a man to teach them. Somehow or other the R?n? Sunk?s? heard they were still alive in the jungle. She did not know how she could kill them. So at last she pretended she was very ill, and she said to the R?j?, "The doctor says that in the jungle there are two children, and he says if you will have them killed, and will bring their livers for me to stand on when I bathe, then I shall get well." The R?j? sent a second sepoy to kill the children, and this man killed them and brought their livers to the R?n?. She stood on them while bathing, and then said she was quite well. She then threw the livers into the garden, and during the night a tree grew up there with two large beautiful flowers on it. Next morning the R?n? looked out and said, "I will gather those flowers to-day." Every day she said she would gather them, and every day she forgot. At last one day she said, "Every day I forget to gather those flowers, but to-day I really will do so," and she sent her servant to pluck them. So he went out, and, just as he was going to gather them, the flowers flew up just out of his reach. Then the R?n? went down, and when she was going to pick them they flew up so high that they could not be seen. Every day she tried to gather them, and every day they went high up, and came back again to the tree as soon as she had gone. Then the flowers disappeared and two large fruits came in their stead. The R?n? looked out of her window: "Oh, what delicious fruits! I'll eat them all myself. I won't give a bit to anybody, and I'll eat them by myself quite quietly." She went down to the garden, but they flew high up into the sky, and then they came down again. So this went on, day after day, until she got so cross she ordered the tree to be cut down. But it was of no use. The tree was cut down, but the fruits flew high up into the sky, and in the night the tree grew up again and the fruits came back again to it. And so this went on for many days. Every day she cut down the tree, and every night it grew up again, but she could never get the fruits. At last she became very angry, and had the tree hewn into tiny bits and all the bits thrown away, but still the tree grew again in the night, and in the morning the fruits were hanging on it. So she went to the R?j? and told him that in the garden was a tree with two fruits, and every time she tried to get them, the fruits went up into the air. She had had the tree cut down ever so many times, and it always grew up again in the night and the fruits returned to it. "Why cannot you leave the tree alone?" said the R?j?. "But I should like to see if what you say is true." So the R?j? and the R?n? went down to the garden, and the R?n? tried to get the fruits, but she could not, for they went right up into the air.

That evening the R?j? went alone to the garden to gather the fruits, and the fruits of themselves fell into his hand. He took them into his room, and putting them on a little table close to his bed, he lay down to sleep. As soon as he was in bed a little voice inside one of the fruits said, "Brother;" and a little voice in the other fruit said, "Sister, speak more gently. To-morrow the R?j? will break open the fruits, and if the R?n? finds us she will kill us. Three times has God made us alive again, but if we die a fourth time he will bring us to life no more." The R?j? listened and said, "I will break them open in a little while." Then he went to sleep, and after a little he woke and said, "A little while longer," and went to sleep again. Several times he woke up and said, "I will break the fruits open in a little while," and went to sleep. At last he took a knife and began cutting the fruits open very fast, and the little boy cried, "Gently, gently, father; you hurt us!" So then the R?j? cut more gently, and he stopped to ask, "Are you hurt?" and they said, "No." And then he cut again and asked, "Are you hurt?" and they said, "No." And a third time he asked, "Are you hurt?" and they answered, "No." Then the fruits broke open and his two children jumped out. They rushed into their father's arms, and he clasped them tight, and they cried softly, that the R?n? might not hear.

He shut his room up close, and fed and dressed his children, and then went out of the room, locking the door behind him. He had a little wooden house built that could easily catch fire, and as soon as it was ready he went to the R?n? and said, "Will you go into a little house I have made ready for you while your room is getting repaired?" "All right," said the R?n?; so she went into the little house, and that night a man set it on fire, and the R?n? and everything in it was burnt up. Then the Pomegranate R?j? took her bones, put them into a tin box, and sent them as a present to her mother. "Oh," said the mother, "my daughter has married the Pomegranate Mah?r?j?, and so she sends me some delicious food." When she opened the box, to her horror she found only bones! Then she wrote to the Mah?r?j?, "Of what use are bones?" The Mah?r?j? wrote back, "They are your bones; they belong to you, for they are your daughter's bones. She ill-treated and killed my children, and so I had her burnt."

The Pomegranate R?j? and his children lived very happily for some time, and their dead mother, the Gul?an?r R?n?, having a wish to see her husband and her children, prayed to God to let her go and visit them. God said she could go, but not in her human shape, so he changed her into a beautiful bird, and put a pin in her head, and said, "As soon as the pin is pulled out you will become a woman again." She flew to the palace where the Mah?r?j? lived, and there were great trees about the palace. On one of these she perched at night. The doorkeeper was lying near it. She called out, "Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!" and he answered, "What is it? Who is it?" And she asked, "Is the R?j? well?" and the doorkeeper said, "Yes." "Are the children well?" and he said, "Yes." "And all the servants, and camels, and horses?" "Yes." "Are you well?" "Yes." "Have you had plenty of food?" "Yes." "What a great donkey your Mah?r?j? is!" And then she began to cry very much, and pearls fell from her eyes as she cried. Then she began to laugh very much, and great big rubies fell from her beak as she laughed. The next morning the doorkeeper got up and felt about, and said, "What is all this?" meaning the pearls and the rubies, for he did not know what they were. "I will keep them." So he picked them all up and put them into a corner of his house. Every night the bird came and asked after the Mah?r?j? and the children and the servants, and left a great many pearls and rubies behind her. At last the doorkeeper had a whole heap of pearls and rubies.

One day a Fak?r came and begged, and as the doorkeeper had no pice, or flour, or rice to give, he gave him a handful of pearls and rubies. "Well," said the Fak?r to himself, "I am sure these are pearls and rubies." So he tied them up in his cloth. Then he went to the R?j? to beg, and the R?j? gave him a handful of rice. "What!" said the Fak?r, "the great Mah?r?j? only gives me a handful of rice when his doorkeeper gives me pearls and rubies!" and he turned to walk away. But the Mah?r?j? stopped him. "What did you say?" said he, "that my doorkeeper gave you pearls and rubies?" "Yes," said the Fak?r, "your doorkeeper gave me pearls and rubies." So the Mah?r?j? went to the doorkeeper's house, and when he saw all the pearls and rubies that were there, he thought the man had stolen them from his treasury. The Mah?r?j? had not as many pearls and rubies as his doorkeeper had. Then turning to the doorkeeper he asked him to tell him truly where and how he had got them. "Yes, I will," said the doorkeeper. "Every night a beautiful bird comes and asks after you, after your children, after all your elephants, horses, and servants; and then it cries, and when it cries pearls drop from its eyes; and then it laughs, and rubies fall from its beak. If you come to-night I dare say you will see it." "All right," said the Pomegranate R?j?.

So that night the Mah?r?j? pulled his bed out under the tree on which the bird always perched. At night the bird came and called out, "Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!" and the doorkeeper answered, "Yes, lord." And the bird said, "Is your Mah?r?j? well?" "Yes." "Are the children well?" "Yes." "And all his servants, horses, and camels and elephants--are they well?" "Yes." "Are you well?" "Yes." "Have you had plenty of food?" "Yes." "What a fool your Mah?r?j? is!" And then she cried, and the pearls came tumbling down on the Mah?r?j?'s eyes, and the Mah?r?j? opened one eye and saw what a beautiful bird it was. And then it laughed, and rubies fell from its beak on to the Mah?r?j?.

Next morning the Mah?r?j? said he would give any one who would catch the bird as much money as he wanted. So he called a fisherman, and asked him to bring his net and catch the bird when it came that night. The fisherman said he would for one thousand rupees. That night the fisherman, the Mah?r?j?, and the doorkeeper, all waited under the tree. Soon the bird came, and asked after the Mah?r?j?, after his children, and all his servants and elephants, and camels and horses, and then after the doorkeeper, and then it called the Mah?r?j? a fool. Then it cried, and then it laughed, and just as it laughed the fisherman threw the net over the bird and caught it. Then they shut it up in an iron cage, and the next morning the Mah?r?j? took it out and stroked it, and said, "What a sweet little bird! what a lovely little bird!" And the Mah?r?j? felt something like a pin in its head, and he gave a pull, and out came the pin, and then his own dear wife, the Pomegranate-flower R?n?, stood before him. The R?j? was exceedingly glad, and so were his two children. And there were great rejoicings, and they lived happily ever after.

Told by Dunkn? at Simla, 26th July, 1876.

THE CAT AND THE DOG.

Now all cats are aunts to the tigers, and the cat in this story was the aunt of the tiger in this story. She was his mother's sister. When the tiger's mother was dying, she called the cat to her, and taking her paw she said, "When I am dead you must take care of my child." The cat answered, "Very well," and then the tiger's mother died. The tiger said to the cat, "Aunt, I am very hungry. Go and fetch some fire. When I go to ask men for fire they are afraid of me, and run away from me, and won't give me any. But you are such a little creature that men are not afraid of you, and so they will give you fire, and then you must bring it to me." So the cat said, "Very good," and off she started, and went into a house where some men were eating their dinner: they had thrown away the bones, and the cat began to eat them. This house was very near the place where the tiger lived, and on peeping round the corner he saw his aunt eating the bones. "Oh," said he, "I sent my aunt to fetch fire that I might cook my dinner as I am very hungry, and there she sits eating the bones, and never thinks of me." So the tiger called out, "Aunt, I sent you to fetch fire, and there you sit eating bones and leave me hungry! If ever you come near me again, I will kill you at once." So the cat ran away screaming, "I will never go near the tiger again, for he will kill me!" This is why all cats are so afraid of tigers, or of anything like a tiger. And this is why, when the cat in the story saw the tiger, her nephew, fighting with the man, she ran away as hard as she could.

The thorn had given the tiger great pain; for a long while he could get no one to take it out, so had lain there for days. At last he had seen a man passing by, to whom he called and said, "Take out this thorn, and I promise I won't eat you." But the man refused through fear, saying, "No, I won't, for you will eat me." Three times the tiger had promised not to eat him; so at last the man took out the thorn. Then the tiger sprang up and said, "Now I will eat you, for I am very hungry." "Oh, no, no!" said the man. "What a liar you are! You promised not to eat me if I would take the thorn out of your foot, and now that I have done so you say you will eat me." And they began to fight, and the man said, "If you won't eat me, I will bring you a cow and a goat." But the tiger refused, saying, "No, I won't eat them; I will eat you."

At this moment the jackal and the dog came up. And the jackal asked, "What is the matter? why are you fighting?" So then the man told him why they were fighting; and the jackal said to the tiger, "I will tell you a good way of eating the man. Go and fetch a big bag." So the tiger went and fetched the bag, and brought it to the jackal. Then the jackal said, "Get inside the bag, and leave its mouth open and I'll throw the man in to you." So the tiger got inside the bag, and the jackal, the dog and the man quickly tied it up as tight as they could. Then they began to beat the tiger with all their might until at last they killed him. Then the man went home, and the jackal went home, and the dog went home.

THE CAT WHICH COULD NOT BE KILLED.

He then went to a leopard. "If you can kill this cat I will give you anything you want." "Very well, I'll kill her," said the leopard. And they went together to the cat. "Stop," said the cat to the leopard; "I want to speak to you first. I'll give you something to eat, and then I'll tell you what I want to say." And then she ran off ever so far, and after she had run a mile she stopped and danced, calling out, "Oh! I'll give you nothing to eat; you could not kill me." The leopard went away very cross, and saying, "What a clever cat that is."

The dog next went to a man, and said, "Can you kill this cat, she worries me so?" "Of course I can," said the man; "I'll stick this knife into her stomach." And he stuck his knife into the cat's stomach, but the cat jumped up, and her stomach closed, and the man went home.

Then the poor dog felt very unhappy, and went and threw himself into a hole, and there he died, while the cat went away to her friends.

Told by Dunkn? at Simla, July 26th, 1876.

FOOTNOTE:

A kind of starling.

THE JACKAL AND THE KITE.

There was once a she-jackal and a she-kite. They lived in the same tree; the jackal at the bottom of the tree, and the kite at the top. Neither had any children. One day the kite said to the jackal, "Let us go and worship God, and fast, and then he will give us children." So the jackal said, "Very good." That day the kite ate nothing, nor that night; but the jackal at night brought a dead animal, and was sitting eating it quietly under the tree. By-and-by the kite heard her crunching the bones, instead of fasting. "What have you got there," said the kite, "that you are making such a noise?" "Nothing," said the jackal; "it is only my own bones that rattle inside my body whenever I move." The kite went to sleep again, and took no more notice of the jackal. Next morning the kite ate some food in the name of God. That night again the jackal brought a dead animal. The kite called out, "What are you crunching there? Why are you making that noise? I am sure you have something to eat." The jackal said, "Oh, no! It is only my own bones rattling in my body." So the kite went to sleep again.

Some time after, the kite had seven little boys--real little boys--but the jackal had none, because she had not fasted. A year after that the kite went and worshipped God, asking Him to take care of her children. One day--it was their great day--the kite set out seven plates. On one she put cocoa-nuts, on another cucumbers, on a third rice, on a fourth plantains, and so on. Then she gave a plate to each of her seven sons, and told them to take the plates to their aunt the jackal. So they took the seven plates, and carried them to their aunt, crying out, "Aunty, aunty, look here! Mamma has sent you these things." The jackal took the plates, and cut off the heads of the seven boys, and their hands, and their feet, and their noses, and their ears, and took out their eyes. Then she laid their heads in one plate, and their eyes in another, and their noses in a third, and their ears in a fourth, and their hands in a fifth, and their feet in a sixth, and their trunks in the seventh, and then she covered all the plates over. Then she took the plates to the kite, and called out, "Here! I have brought you something in return. You sent me a present, and I bring you a present." Now the poor kite thought the jackal had killed all her seven children, so she cried out, "Oh, it's too dark now to see what you have brought. Put the plates down in my tree." The jackal put the plates down and went home. Then God made the boys alive again, and they came running to their mother, quite well. And instead of the heads and eyes, and noses and ears, and hands and feet, and trunks, there were again on the plates cocoa-nuts and cucumbers, and plantains and rice, and so on.

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

Told by Dunkn?.

THE VORACIOUS FROG.

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

THE STORY OF FOOLISH SACH?L?.

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

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

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

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

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

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