Oriental Myths and Legends



THE COBBLER ASTROLOGER

     In the great city of Isfahan lived Ahmed the cob-bler.  He was an 
honest and industrious man, whose wish was to pass through life quietly.  He 
might have done so, had he not married a handsome wife, who, although she 
had accepted him as a husband, was far from being contented with his humble 
sphere of life.
Sittara, such was the name of Ahmed's wife, was ever forming foolish schemes 
of riches and grandeur.  Though Ahmed never encouraged them, he was too fond 
a husband to quarrel with what gave her pleasure.  An incredulous smile or a 
shake of the head was his only answer to her often-told daydreams.  Sittara 
continued to per-suade herself that she was certainly destined to great 
fortune.
It happened one evening, while in this state of mind, she went to the 
Hemmam.  There she saw a lady retiring dressed in a magnificent robe, 
covered with jewels, and surrounded by slaves. This was the very condition 
Sittara had always longed for.  She eagerly inquired the name of the happy 
person who had so many attendants and such fine jewels.  She learned it was 
the wife of the chief astrologer to the king. With this informa-tion she 
returned home.  Her husband met her at the door, but was received with a 
frown, nor could all his caresses obtain a smile or a word; for several 
hours she continued silent, and in apparent misery. At length she said, 
"Cease your caresses, unless you are ready to give me a proof that you do 
really and sincerely love me."
"What proof of love," exclaimed poor Ahmed, "can you desire which I will not 
give?"
"Give over cobbling; it is a vile, low trade, and never yields more than ten 
or twelve dinars a day. Turn astrologer! Your fortune will be made, and I 
shall have all I wish, and be happy."
"Astrologer!" cried Ahmed, "Astrologer! Have you forgotten who I am?  A 
cobbler, without any learning; that you want me to engage in a pro-fession 
which requires so much skill and know-ledge?"
"I neither think nor care about your qualifica-tions," said the enraged 
wife, "all I know is, that if you do not turn astrologer immediately I will 
be divorced from you tomorrow."
The cobbler remonstrated, but in vain.  The figure of the astrologer's wife, 
with her jewels and her slaves, had taken complete possession of Sittara’s 
imagination. All night it haunted her. She dreamt of nothing else, and on 
awaking declared she would leave the house if her husband did not comply 
with her wishes. What could poor Ahmed do? He was no astrologer, but he was 
dotingly fond of his wife and could not bear the idea of losing her.  He 
promised to obey, and, having sold his little stock, bought an astrolabe, an 
astronomical almanac, and a table of the twelve signs of the zodiac. 
Furnished with these he went to the marketplace, crying, "I am an 
astrologer. I know the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the twelve 
signs of the zodiac.  I can calculate nativities. I can foretell everything 
that is to happen!"
No man was better known than Ahmed the cobbler. Soon a crowd had gathered 
round him. "What! Friend Ahmed," said one, "Have you worked till your head 
is turned?" "Are you tired of looking down at your last," cried another, 
"that you are now looking up at the planets?"  These and a thousand other 
jokes assailed the ears of the poor cobbler, who, notwithstanding, continued 
to exclaim that he was an astrologer, having resolved on doing what he could 
to please his beautiful wife.
It so happened that the king's jeweler was pass-ing by.  He was in great 
distress, having lost the richest ruby belonging to the crown.  Every search 
had been made to recover this inestimable jewel, but to no success.  The 
jeweler knew he could no longer conceal its loss from the king. He looked 
forward to death as inevitable.  In this hopeless state, while wandering 
about the town, he reached the crowd around Ahmed and asked what was the 
matter.  "Don't you know Ahmed the cobbler?" said one of the bystanders, 
laughing; "He has been inspired, and has become an astrologer!"
A drowning man will catch at a broken reed.
The jeweler no sooner heard the sound of the word astrologer, than he went 
up to Ahmed, told him what had happened, and said, "If you understand your 
art, you must be able to discover the king's ruby.  Do so, and I will give 
you two hundred pieces of gold. But if you do not succeed within six hours, 
I will use all my influence at court to have you put to death as an 
impostor."
Poor Ahmed was thunderstruck.  He stood long without being able to move or 
speak, reflecting on his misfortunes, and grieving.  Above all, that his 
wife, whom he so loved, had, by her envy and selfishness, brought him to 
such a fearful alterna-tive.  Full of these sad thoughts, he exclaimed 
aloud, "O woman, woman! You art more baneful to the happiness of man than 
the poisonous dragon of the desert!"
The lost ruby had been secreted by the jeweler’s wife, who, disquieted by 
those alarms which ever attend guilt, sent one of her female slaves to watch 
her husband.  This slave, on seeing her master speak to the astrologer, drew 
near.  When she heard Ahmed, after some moments of apparent abstraction, 
compare a woman to a poisonous dragon, she was satisfied that he must know 
every-thing. She ran to her mistress, and breathless with fear, cried, "You 
are discovered, my dear mistress, you are discovered by a vile astrologer.  
Before six hours are past the whole story will be known, and you will become 
infamous, if you are even so fortu-nate as to escape with life!  Unless you 
can find some way of prevailing on him to be merciful." She then related 
what she had seen and heard; and Ahmed's exclamation carried as complete 
conviction to the mind of the terrified mistress as it had done to that of 
her slave.
The jeweler’s wife, hastily throwing on her veil, went in search of the 
dreaded astrologer. When she found him, she threw herself at his feet, 
crying, "Spare my honor and my life, and I will confess everything!"
"What can you have to confess to me?" exclaimed Ahmed in amazement.
" Oh, nothing! Nothing with which you are not already acquainted!  You know 
too well that I stole the ruby from the king's crown. I did so to punish my 
husband, who uses me most cruelly.  I thought by this means to obtain riches 
for myself, and to have him put to death.  But you, most wonderful man, from 
whom nothing is hidden, have discovered and defeated my wicked plan.  I beg 
only for mercy, and will do whatever you command me."
An angel from heaven could not have brought more consolation to Ahmed than 
did the jeweler’s wife.  He assumed all the dignified solemnity that became 
his new character, and said, "Woman! I know all you have done, and it is 
fortunate you have come to confess your sin and beg for mercy before it was 
too late! Return to your house and put the ruby under the pillow of the 
couch on which your husband sleeps. Let it be laid on the side furthest from 
the door; and be satisfied your guilt shall never be even suspected."
The jeweler’s wife returned home and did as she was desired.  In an hour 
Ahmed followed her.  He told the jeweler he had made his calculations, and 
found by the aspect of the sun and moon, and by the configuration of the 
stars, that the ruby was at that moment lying under the pillow of his couch, 
on the side furthest from the door.  The jeweler thought Ahmed must be 
crazy; but as a ray of hope is like a ray from heaven to the wretched.  The 
jeweler ran to his couch, and there, to his joy and wonder, found the ruby 
in the very place described.  He came back to Ahmed, embraced him, called 
him his dearest friend and the preserver of his life, and gave him the two 
hundred pieces of gold, declaring that he was the first astrologer of the 
age.
These praises conveyed no joy to the poor cobbler, who returned home more 
thankful to God for his preservation than elated by his good fortune.  The 
moment he entered the door his wife ran up to him and exclaimed, "Well, my 
dear astrologer! What success?”
"There!" said Ahmed, very gravely," there are two hundred pieces of gold.  I 
hope you will be satisfied now, and not ask me again to hazard my life, as I 
have done this morning." He then related all that had passed.  But the 
recital made a very different impression on the lady from what these 
occurrences had made on Ahmed.  Sittara saw nothing but the gold, which 
would enable her to vie with the chief astrologer's wife at the Hemmam. 
"Courage!" she said, "Courage!  My dearest husband. This is only your first 
labor in your new and noble profession.  Go on and prosper, and we shall be-
come rich and happy."
In vain, Ahmed remonstrated and represented the danger; but she burst into 
tears, and accused him of not loving her, ending with her usual threat of 
insisting upon a divorce.
Ahmed's heart melted, and he agreed to make another trial. Accordingly, next 
morning he sallied forth with his astrolabe, his twelve signs of the zodiac, 
and his almanac, exclaiming, as before, "I am an astrologer! I know the sun, 
and the moon, and the stars, and twelve signs of the zodiac. I can calculate 
nativities.  I can foretell everything that is to happen!" A crowd again 
gathered round him, but it was now with wonder, and not ridicule; for the 
story of the ruby had gone abroad, and the voice of fame had converted the 
poor cobbler Ahmed into the ablest and most learned astrologer that was ever 
seen at Isfahan.
While everybody was gazing at him, a lady passed by veiled.  She was the 
wife of one of the richest merchants in the city, and had just been at the 
Hemmam, where she had lost a valuable necklace and earrings. She was now 
returning home in great alarm lest her husband should suspect her of having 
given her jewels to a lover.  Seeing the crowd around Ahmed, she asked the 
reason of their assem-bling.  She was informed of the whole story of the 
famous astrologer. How he had been a cobbler, was inspired with supernatural 
knowledge, and could, with the help of his astrolabe, his twelve signs of 
the zodiac, and his almanac, discover all that ever did or ever would happen 
in the world.  The story of the jeweler and the king's ruby was then told 
her, accompanied by a thousand wonderful circum-stances that had never 
occurred.  The lady, quite satisfied of his skill, went up to Ahmed and men-
tioned her loss, saying: "A man of your knowledge and penetration will 
easily discover my jewels; find them, and I will give you fifty pieces of 
gold."
The poor cobbler was quite confounded, and looked down, thinking only how to 
escape without a public exposure of his ignorance.  The lady, in pressing 
through the crowd, had torn the lower part of her veil.  Ahmed's downcast 
eyes noticed this and he wished to inform her of it in a delicate manner, 
before it was observed by others. He whispered to her, "Lady, look down at 
the rent." The lady's head was full of her loss, and she was at that moment 
endeavoring to recollect how it could have occurred. Ahmed's speech brought 
it at once to her mind, and she exclaimed in delighted surprise, "Stay here 
a few moments, you great astrologer.  I will return immediately with the 
reward you so well deserves." Saying this, she left him, and soon returned, 
carry-ing in one hand the necklace and earrings, and in the other a purse 
with the fifty pieces of gold. "There is gold for thee," she said, "you 
wonderful man, to whom all the secrets of Nature are revealed! I had quite 
forgotten where I laid the jewels, and without thee should never have found 
them. But when you desired me to look at the rent below, I instantly 
recollected the rent near the bottom of the wall in the bathroom, where, 
before undressing, I had hid them. I can now go home in peace and com-fort; 
and it is all owing to thee, you wisest of men!"
After these words she walked away, and Ahmed returned to his home, thankful 
to Providence for his preservation, and fully resolved never again to tempt 
it.  His handsome wife, however, could not yet rival the chief astrologer's 
lady in her appear-ance at the Hemmam, so she renewed her entreaties and 
threats, to make her fond husband continue his career as an astrologer.
About this time it happened that the king's trea-sury was robbed of forty 
chests of gold and jewels, forming the greater part of the wealth of the 
king-dom. The high treasurer and other officers of state used all diligence 
to find the thieves, but in vain. The king sent for his astrologer, and 
declared that if the robbers were not detected by a stated time, he, as well 
as the principal ministers, should be put to death. Only one day of the 
short period given them remained. Their search had proved fruitless, and the 
chief astrologer, who had made his calculations and exhausted his art to no 
purpose, had quite resigned himself to his fate, when one of his friends 
advised him to send for the wonderful cobbler, who had become so famous for 
his extraordinary dis-coveries.  Two slaves were immediately dispatched for 
Ahmed, whom they commanded to go with them to their master. "You see the 
efforts of your ambi-tion," said the poor cobbler to his wife. "I am going 
to my death. The king's astrologer has heard of my presumption, and is 
determined to have me executed as an impostor."
On entering the palace of the chief astrologer, he was surprised to see that 
dignified person come for-ward to receive him, and lead him to the seat of 
honor, and not less so to hear himself thus ad-dressed: "The ways of Heaven, 
most learned and excellent Ahmed, are unsearchable.  The high are often cast 
down, and the low are lifted up.  The whole world depends upon fate and 
fortune.  It is my turn now to be depressed by fate; it is your turn to be 
exalted by fortune."
         His speech was here interrupted by a messenger from the king, 
having heard of the cobbler's fame, desired his attendance.  Poor Ahmed now 
concluded that it was all over with him, and followed the king's messenger, 
praying to God that he would deliver him from this peril.  When he came into 
the king's presence, he bent his body to the ground, and wished his majesty 
long life and prosperity. "Tell me, Ahmed," said the king, "who has stolen 
my treasure!"
          "It was not one man," answered Ahmed, after some consideration; 
"there were forty thieves con-cerned in the robbery."
         "Very well," said the king, "but who were they, and what have they 
done with my gold and jewels!"
         "These questions," said Ahmed, "I cannot now answer; but I hope to 
satisfy your Majesty, if you will grant me forty days to make my 
calculations."
         "I grant you forty days”, said the king; "but when they are past, 
if my treasure is not found, your life shall pay the forfeit."
	     Ahmed returned to his house well pleased; for he resolved to 
take advantage of the time allowed him to fly from a city where his fame was 
likely to be his ruin.
"Well, Ahmed," said his wife, as he entered, "what news at Court?"
“No news at all," said he, "except that I am to be put to death at the end 
of forty days, unless I find forty chests of gold and jewels which have been 
stolen from the royal treasury."
"But you will discover the thieves."
"How? By what means am I to find them?"
"By the same art which discovered the ruby and the lady's necklace."
"The same art!" replied Ahmed.  "Foolish woman! You know I have no art, and 
that I have only pretended to it for the sake of pleasing thee. But I have 
had sufficient skill to gain forty days, during which time we may easily 
escape to some other city; and with the money I now possess, and the aid of 
my former occupation, we may still obtain an honest livelihood."
"An honest livelihood! " repeated his lady, with scorn.  "Will your 
cobbling, you mean, spiritless wretch, ever enable me to go to the Hemmam 
like the wife of the chief astrologer? Hear me, Ahmed! Think only of 
discovering the king's treasure. You have just as good a chance of doing so 
as you had of finding the ruby, the necklace, and earrings. At all events, I 
am determined you shall not escape; and should you attempt to run away, I 
will inform the king's officers, and have thee taken up and put to death, 
even before the forty days are expired.  You know me too well, Ahmed, to 
doubt my keeping my word.  So take courage, and endeavor to make your 
fortune, and to place me in that rank of life to which my beauty entitles 
me."
The poor cobbler was dismayed at this speech, but knowing there was no hope 
of changing his wife's resolution, he resigned himself to his fate. "Well," 
said he, "your will shall be obeyed.  All I desire is to pass the few 
remaining days of my life as comfortably as I can. You know I am no scholar. 
I have little skill in reckoning; so there are forty dates.  Give me one of 
them every night after I have said my prayers, that I may put them in a jar, 
and, by counting them may always see how many of the few days I have to live 
are gone."
The lady, pleased at carrying her point, took the dates, and promised to be 
punctual in doing what her husband desired.
Meanwhile the thieves who had stolen the king's treasure, having been kept 
from leaving the city by fear of detection and pursuit, had received 
accurate information of every measure taken to discover them.  One of them 
was among the crowd before the palace on the day the king sent for Ahmed.
Upon hearing that the cobbler had immediately declared their exact number, 
he ran in a fright to his comrades, and exclaimed, "We are all found out! 
Ahmed, the new astrologer, has told the king that there are forty of us!"
"There needed no astrologer to tell that," said the captain of the gang. 
"This Ahmed, with all his simple good-nature, is a shrewd fellow.  Forty 
chests having been stolen, he naturally guessed that there must be forty 
thieves, and he has made a good hit, that is all. Still, it is prudent to 
watch him, for he certainly has made some strange dis-coveries. One of us 
must go tonight to the terrace of this cobbler's house, and listen to his 
conversation with his handsome wife.  He is said to be very fond of her, and 
will no doubt tell her what success he has had in his endeavors to detect 
us."
Everybody approved of this scheme, and soon after nightfall one of the 
thieves repaired to the terrace.  He arrived there just as the cobbler had 
finished his evening prayers, and his wife was giving him the first date.  
"Ah! " said Ahmed, as he took it, "there is one of the forty."
The thief, hearing these words, hastened in con-sternation to the gang, and 
told them that the moment he took his post he had been perceived by the 
supernatural knowledge of Ahmed, who immediately told his wife that one of 
them was there. The spy's tale was not believed by his hardened companions.  
Something was imputed to his fears; he might have been mistaken; in short, 
it was determined to send two men the next night at the same hour.  They 
reached the house just as Ahmed, having finished his prayers, had received 
the second date, and heard him exclaim, "My dear wife, tonight there are two 
of them!"
The astonished thieves fled, and told their still incredulous comrades what 
they had heard. Three men were consequently sent the third night, four the 
fourth, and so on. Being afraid of venturing during the day, they always 
came as evening closed in, and just as Ahmed was receiving his date, hence 
they all in turn heard him say that which convinced them he was aware of 
their presence.  On the last night they all went, and Ahmed exclaimed aloud, 
"The number is complete!  Tonight the whole forty are here!"
All doubts were now removed.  It was impossible that Ahmed should have 
discovered them by any natural means.  How could he ascertain their exact 
number night after night, without ever once being mistaken? He must have 
learnt it by his skill in astrology!  Even the captain now yielded, in spite 
of his incredulity.  He declared his opinion that it was hopeless to elude a 
man thus gifted.  He therefore advised that they should make a friend of the 
cobbler, by confessing everything to him, and bribing him to secrecy by a 
share of the booty.
His advice was approved of, and an hour before dawn they knocked at Ahmed's 
door.  The poor man jumped out of bed, and supposing the soldiers were come 
to lead him to execution, cried out, "Have patience! I know what you are 
come for. It is a very unjust and wicked deed."
"Most wonderful man!" said the captain, as the door was opened, "We are 
fully convinced that you know why we have come, nor do we mean to justify 
the action of which you speak. Here are two thousand pieces of gold, which 
we will give thee, provided you wilt swear to say nothing more about the 
matter."
"Say nothing about it!" said Ahmed.  "Do you think it possible I can suffer 
such gross wrong and injustice without complaining, and making it known to 
all the world?"
"Have mercy upon us!" exclaimed the thieves, falling on their knees, " only 
spare our lives, and we will restore the royal treasure."
The cobbler started, rubbed his eyes to see if he were asleep or awake.  
Being satisfied that he was awake, and that the men before him were really 
the thieves, he assumed a solemn tone, and said:
"Guilty men! You are persuaded that you cannot escape from my penetration, 
which reaches unto the sun and moon, and knows the position and aspect of
every star in the heavens. Your timely repentance has saved you.  But you 
must immediately restore all that you have stolen.  Go straightway, and 
carry the forty chests exactly as you found them, and bury them a foot deep 
under the southern wall of the old ruined Hemmam, beyond the king's palace. 
If you do this punctually, your lives are spared, but if you fail in the 
slightest degree, destruction will fall upon you and your families."
The thieves promised obedience to his commands and departed. Ahmed then fell 
on his knees, and returned thanks to God for this signal mark of his favor.  
About two hours after the royal guards came, and desired Ahmed to follow 
them.  He said he would attend them as soon as he had taken leave of his 
wife, to whom he determined not to impart what had occurred until he saw the 
result. He bade her farewell very affectionately; she supported her-self 
with great fortitude on this trying occasion, exhorting her husband to be of 
good cheer, and said a few words about the goodness of Providence. But the 
fact was, Sittara fancied that if God took the worthy cobbler to himself, 
her beauty might attract some rich lover.  He would enable her to go to the 
Hemmam with as much splendor as the astrologer's lady, whose image, adorned 
with jewels and fine clothes, and surrounded by slaves, still haunted her 
imagination.
The decrees of Heaven are just a reward suited
to their merits awaited Ahmed and his wife.  The good man stood with a 
cheerful countenance before the king, who was impatient for his arrival, and 
immediately said, "Ahmed, your looks are promising, have you discovered my 
treasure?"
"Does your Majesty require the thieves or the treasure?  The stars will only 
grant one or the other," said Ahmed, looking at his table of astrolo-gical 
calculations.   "Your Majesty must make your choice.  I can deliver up 
either, but not both."
"I should be sorry not to punish the thieves," answered the king; "but if it 
must be so, I choose the treasure."
"And you give the thieves a full and free pardon?"
"I do, provided I find my treasure untouched."
"Then," said Ahmed, "if your majesty will follow me, the treasure shall be 
restored to you."
The king and all his nobles followed the cobbler to the ruins of the old 
Hemmam. There, casting his eyes towards heaven, Ahmed muttered some sounds, 
which were supposed by the spectators to be magical conjuration, but which 
were in reality the prayers and thanksgivings of a sincere and pious heart 
to God for his wonderful deliverance.  When his prayer was finished, he 
pointed to the southern wall, and requested that his majesty would order his 
attendants to dig there.  The work was hardly begun, when the whole forty 
chests were found in the same state as when stolen, with the treasurer's 
seal upon them still unbroken.
The king's joy knew no bounds. He embraced Ahmed, and immediately appointed 
him his chief astrologer, assigned to him an apartment in the palace, and 
declared that he should marry his only daughter. It was the king’s duty to 
promote the man whom God had so singularly favored, and had made 
instrumental in restoring the treasures of his kingdom.  The young princess, 
who was more beautiful than the moon, was not dissatisfied with her father's 
choice, for her mind was stored with religion and virtue, and she had learnt 
to value beyond all earthly qualities that piety and learning which she 
believed Ahmed to possess.  The royal will was carried into execution as 
soon as formed. The wheel of fortune had taken a complete turn. The morning 
had found Ahmed in a wretched hovel, rising from a sorry bed, in the 
expectation of losing his life. In the evening he was the lord of a rich 
palace, and married to the only daughter of a power-ful king.  But this 
change did not alter his charac-ter. As he had been meek and humble in 
adversity, he was modest and gentle in prosperity.  Conscious of his own 
ignorance, he continued to ascribe his good fortune solely to the favor of 
Providence. He became daily more attached to the beautiful and virtuous 
princess whom he had married, and he could not help contrasting her 
character with that of his former wife, whom he had ceased to love, and of 
whose unreasonable and unfeeling vanity he was now fully sensible. 

THE LEGEND OF THE TERRESTRIAL
PARADISE OF SHEDDAD,
THE SON OF 'A'D.

It is related that 'Abd Allah, the son of Aboo Kilabeh, went forth to seek a 
camel that had run away. While he was proceeding over the deserts of El-
Yeman and the district of Seba, he chanced to arrive at a vast city 
encompassed by enormous fortifications, around the circuit of which were 
pavilions rising high into the sky. So when he approached it, he imagined 
that there must be in-habitants within it, of whom he might inquire for his 
camel; and, accordingly, he advanced, but on coming to it he found that it 
was desolate, without any one to cheer its solitude.
"I 'alighted," says he, "from my she-camel, and tied up her foot; and then, 
composing my mind, entered the city. On approaching the fortifications, I 
found that they had two enormous gates, the like of which, for size and 
height, have never been seen elsewhere in the world, set with a variety of 
jewels and jacinths, white and red, and yellow and green;
and when I beheld this, I was struck with the utmost wonder at it, and the 
sight astonished me. I entered the fortifications in a state of terror and 
with a wandering mind. I saw them to be of the same large extent as the 
city, and to comprise elevated pavilions, every one of these containing 
lofty chambers, and all of them constructed of gold and silver, and adorned 
with rubies and chrysolites and pearls and various-colored jewels. The fold-
ing doors of these pavilions were like those of the fortifications in 
beauty, and the floors were overlaid with large pearls, and with balls like 
hazelnuts, composed of musk and ambergris and saffron. And when I came into 
the midst of the city, I saw n6t in it a created being of the sons of Adam; 
and I almost died of terror. I then looked down from the summits of the 
lofty chambers and pavilions, and saw rivers running beneath them; and in 
the great thoroughfare-streets of the city were fruit--bearing trees and 
tall palm-trees. And the construc-tion of the city was of alternate bricks 
of gold and silver; so I said within myself, No doubt this is the paradise 
promised in the world to come.
"I carried away of the jewels which were as its gravel, and the musk that 
was as its dust, as much as I could bear, and returned to my district, where 
I acquainted the people with the occurrence. And the news reached Mo'awiyeh, 
the son of Aboo Sufyan (who was then Caliph), in the Hejaz; so he wrote to 
his lieutenant in San'a of El-Yemen, say-ing, 'Summon that man, and inquire 
of him the truth of the matter!'  His lieutenant therefore caused me to be 
brought, and demanded of me an account of my adventure, and of what had 
befallen me; and I informed him of what I had seen.  He then sent me to 
Mo'awiyeh, and I acquainted him also with that which I had seen, but he 
disbelieved it; so I produced to him some of those pearls and the little 
balls of ambergris and musk and saffron. The latter retained somewhat of 
their sweet scent; but the pearls had become yellow and discolored.
At the sight of these Mo'awiyeh wondered.  He sent and caused Kaab el-Ahbar 
to be brought before him, and said to him, 'O Kaab el-Ahbar, I have called 
thee on account of a matter of which I desire to know the truth, and I hope 
that you are able to convince me of it.' 'And what is it, O Prince of the 
Faithful?' asked Kaab el-Alibar. Mo'awiyeh said, 'Have you any knowledge of 
the existence of a city constructed of gold and silver, the pillars whereof 
are of chrysolite and ruby, and the gravel of which is of pearls, and of 
balls like hazel-nuts, composed of musk and ambergris and saffron?'  He 
answered, 'Yes, O Prince of the Faithful!  It is Irem Zat - el - 'Emad, the 
like of which has never been constructed in the regions of the earth; and 
Sheddad, the son of 'A'd the Greater, built it.'  'Relate to us,' said 
Mo'awiyeh, 'some-what of its history.' And Kaab el-Ahbar replied 
thus:
" ‘ `A'd the Greater had two sons, Shedeed and
Sheddad, and when their father perished they reigned conjointly over the 
countries after him, and there was no one of the kings of the earth who was 
not subject to them. And Shedeed the son of 'A'd died, so his brother 
Sheddad ruled alone over the earth after him.  He was fond of reading the 
ancient books. When he met with the descrip-tion of the world to come, and 
of paradise, with its pavilions, lofty chambers, trees and fruits, and of 
the other things in paradise, his heart enticed him to construct its like on 
the earth, after this manner which has been above mentioned. He had under 
his authority a hundred thousand kings, under each of whom were a hundred 
thousand valiant chieftains, and under each of these were a hundred thousand 
soldiers. And he summoned them all before him, and said to them, "I find in 
the ancient books and histories the description of the paradise that is in 
the other world, and I desire to make its like upon the earth.  Depart you 
therefore to the most pleasant and most spacious vacant tract in the earth. 
Build for me in it a city of gold and silver.  Spread, as its gravel, 
chrysolites and rubies and pearls, and as the supports of the vaulted roofs 
of that city make columns of chrysolite.  Fill it with pavilions, and over 
the pavilions construct lofty chambers, and beneath them plant, in the by-
streets and great-thoroughfare streets, varieties of trees bearing different 
kinds of ripe fruits, and make rivers to run beneath them in channels of 
gold and silver." To this they all re-plied, "How can we accomplish that 
which you have described to us, and how can we procure the chrysolites and 
rubies and pearls that you have mentioned?" But he said, "Know you not that 
the kings of the world are obedient to me, and under my authority, and that 
no one who is in it 
dis-obeyed my command?" They answered, "Yes, we know that." "Depart then," 
said he, "to the mines of chrysolite and ruby, and to the places where 
pearls are found, and gold and silver, and take forth and collect their 
contents from the earth, and spare no exertions. Take also for me, from the 
hands of me, such of those things as you find, and spare none, nor let any 
escape you; and beware of disobedience!"
"'He then wrote a letter to each of the kings in the regions of the earth.  
He commanded them to collect all the articles of the kinds above mentioned 
that their subjects possessed, and to repair to the mines in which these 
things were found, and extract the precious stones that they contained, even 
from the beds of the seas. And they collected the things that he required in 
the space of twenty years; after which he sent forth the geometricians and 
sages,
and laborers and artificers, from all the countries and region; and they 
dispersed themselves through the deserts and wastes, and tracts and 
districts, until they came to a desert wherein was a vast open plain, clear 
from hills and mountains, and in it were springs gushing forth, and rivers 
running. So they said, "This is the kind of place which the king commanded 
us to seek, and called us to find." They then busied themselves in building 
the city accord-ing to the direction of the King Sheddad, king of the whole 
earth, in its length and breadth; and they made through it the channels for 
the rivers, and laid the foundations conformably with the pre-scribed 
extent.  The kings of the various districts of the earth sent thither the 
jewels and stones.  Large and small pearls, and carnelian and pure gold, 
upon camels over the deserts and wastes.  They sent great ships with them 
over the seas; and a quantity of those things, such as cannot be described 
nor calculated nor defined, was brought to the work-men, who labored in the 
construction of this city three hundred years.  And when they had finished 
it, they came to the king and acquainted him with the completion.  He said 
to them, "Depart, and make around it impregnable fortifications of great 
height, and construct around the circuit of the fortifications a thousand 
pavilions, each with a thousand pillars beneath it, in order that there may 
be in each pavilion a vizier."  So they went imme-diately,
and did this in twenty years; after which they presented themselves before 
Sheddad, and in-formed him of the accomplishment of his desire.
"'He therefore ordered his viziers, who were a thousand in number, and his 
chief officers, and such of his troops to make themselves ready for 
departure, and to prepare themselves for removal to Irem Zat-el-'Emad, in 
attendance upon the king of the world, Sheddad, the son of 'A'd.  He ordered 
also such as he chose of his women and his harem, as his female slaves and 
his eunuchs, to fit themselves out. And they passed twenty years in 
equipping themselves.  Then Sheddad proceeded with his troops, rejoiced at 
the accomplishment of his desire, until there remained between him and Irem 
Zat-el-'Emad one day's journey.  When God sent down upon him and upon the 
obstinate infidels who accompanied him a loud cry from the heaven of His 
power, and it destroyed them all by the vehemence of its sound.  Neither 
Sheddad nor any of those who were with him arrived at the city, or came in 
sight of it, and God obliterated the traces of the road that led to it, but 
the city remained as it was in its place until the hour of the judgment I'
"At this narrative, related by Kaab el-Ahbar, Mo'awiyeh wondered, and he 
said to him, 'Can any one of mankind arrive at that city?'  'Yes,' an-swered 
Kaab el-Ahbar; 'a man of the companions
of Mohammed (upon whom be blessing and peace!), in appearance like this man 
who is sitting here, without any doubt.' Esh-Shaabee also said, 'It is 
related, on the authority of the learned men of Hemyer, in El-Yemen, that 
when Sheddad and those who were with him were destroyed by the loud cry, his 
son Sheddad the Less reigned after him.  His father, Sheddad the Greater, 
had left him as successor to his kingdom, in the land of Hadramot and Seba, 
en his departure with the troops who accompanied him to Irem Zat-el-'EmAd. 
And as soon as the news reached him of the death of his father, on the way 
before his arrival at the city of Irem, he gave orders to carry his father's 
body from those desert tracts to Hadramot, and to excavate the sepulchre for 
him in a cavern. And when they had done this, he placed his body in it, upon 
a couch of gold, and covered the corpse with seventy robes, interwoven with 
gold and adorned with precious jewels; and he placed at his head a tablet of 
gold, whereon were inscribed these verses: 

"'Be admonished, O you who art deceived by a prolonged life!
	I am Sheddad, the son of 'A'd, the lord of a strong 
	fortress.
 	The lord of power and might, and of excessive valor.
	The inhabitants of the earth obeyed me, fearing my 
                      severity and threats;
	And I held the east and west under a strong dominion.
	And a preacher of the true religion invited us to the 
                      right way;
	But we opposed him, and said, is there no refuge from it?
And a loud cry assaulted us from a tract of the distant horizon; 
Whereupon we fell down like corn in the midst of a plain at harvest;
And now, beneath the earth, we await the threatened
day.'

"Eth-Tha'alibee also said, 'It happened that two men entered this cavern, 
and found at its upper end some steps, and having descended these, they 
found an excavation, the length whereof was a hundred cubits, and its 
breadth forty cubits, and its height a hundred cubits. And in the midst of 
this excava-tion was a couch of gold, upon which was a man of enormous bulk, 
occupying its whole length and breadth, covered with ornaments and with 
robes interwoven with gold and silver; and at his head was a tablet of gold, 
whereon was an inscription. And they took that tablet, and carried away from 
the place as much as they could of bars of gold and silver and other 
things.'"

THE TOMB OF NOOSHEERWAN.

The caliph Haroon-oor-Rasheed went to visit the tomb of the celebrated 
Noosheerwan, the most famous of all the monarchs who ever governed Persia. 
Before the tomb was a curtain of gold cloth, which, when Haroon touched it, 
fell to pieces. The walls of the tomb were covered with gold and jewels, 
whose splendor illumined its darkness. The body was placed in a sitting 
posture on a throne enchased with jewels, and had so much the appearance of 
life that, on the first impulse, the Oommauder of the Faithful bent to the 
ground, and saluted the remains of the just Noo-sheerwan.
Though the face of the departed monarch was like that of a living man, and 
the whole of the body in a state of preservation, which showed the admirable 
skill of those who embalmed it, yet when the caliph touched the garments 
they moldered into dust. Haroon upon this took his own rich robes and threw 
them over the corpse; he also hung up a new curtain richer than that he had 
destroyed, and per-
fumed the whole tomb with camphor, and other sweet scents.
It was remarked that no change was perceptible in the body of Noosheerwan, 
except that the ears had become white.  The whole scene affected the caliph 
greatly; he burst into tears, and repeated from the Koran-" What I have seen 
is a warning to those who have eyes."  He observed some writ-ing upon the 
throne, which he ordered the Moobids (priests),who were learned in the 
Pehlevee language, to read and explain. They did so: it was as follows:

"This world remains not; the man who thinks least of it is the wisest.
"Enjoy this world before you becomes its prey.
"Bestow the same favor on those below thee as you desires to receive from 
those above thee.
"If you should conquer the whole world, death will at last conquer thee.
"Be careful that you art not the dupe of your own for-tune.
"You shall be paid exactly for what you have done; no more, no less."

The caliph observed a dark ruby-ring on the finger of Noosheerwan, on which 
was written-"Avoid cruelty, study good, and never be precipitate in
                    action.
"If you should live for a hundred years, never for one moment forget death.
"Value above all things the society of the wise.

Around the right arm of Noosheerwn was a clasp of gold, on which was 
engraved-
  "On a certain year, on the 10th day of the month Erde-
behisht, a caliph of the race of Adean, professing the faith of Mahomed, 
accompanied by four good men, and one bad, shall visit my tomb."
Below this sentence were the names of the fore-fathers of the caliph.  
Another prophecy was added concerning Haroon's pilgrimage to Noosheerwn's 
tomb.
                          "This prince will honor me, and do good unto me, 
though I have no claim upon him; and he will clothe me in a new vest, and 
besprinkle my tomb with sweet-scented essences, and then depart unto his 
home. But the badman who accompanies him shall act treacherously towards me. 
I pray that God may "'end one of my race to repay the great favors of the 
caliph, and to take vengeance on his un-worthy companion. There is, under my 
throne, an inscrip-tion that the caliph must read and contemplate. Its 
contents will remind him of me, and make him pardon my inability to give him 
more."

	The caliph, on hearing this, put his hand under the throne, and 
found the inscription, which con-sisted of some lines, inscribed on a ruby 
as large as the palm of the hand.  The Moobids read this also. It contained 
information where would be found con-cealed a treasure of gold and arms, 
with some caskets of rich jewels; under this was written-

"These I give to the caliph in return for the good he has done me; let him 
take them and be happy."

When Haroon-oor-Basheed was about to leave       
the tomb, Hoosein-ben-sahil, his vizier, said to 
him: "O Lord of the Faithful, what is the use of all   these precious gems 
which ornament the abode of the dead, and are of no benefit to the living ? 
Allow me to take some of them." The caliph replied with indignation, "Such a 
wish is more worthy of a thief than of a great or wise man." Hoosein was 
ashamed of his speech, and said to the servant who had been placed at the 
entrance of the tomb, "Go you, and worship the holy shrine within." The man 
went into the tomb; he was above a hundred years old, but he had never seen 
such a blaze of wealth. He felt inclined to plunder some of it, but was at 
first afraid; at last, summoning all his courage, he took a ring from the 
finger of Noosheerwan, and came away.
Haroon saw this man come out, and observing him alarmed, he at once 
conjectured what he had been doing. Addressing those around him, he said, 
"Do not you now see the extent of the knowledge of Noosheerwan I He 
prophesied that there should be one unworthy man with me. It is this fellow. 
What have you taken I" said he, in an angry tone. "Nothing," said the man. 
"Search him," said the caliph. It was done, and the ring of Noosheerwan was 
found. This the caliph immediately took, and, entering the tomb, replaced it 
on the cold finger of
the deceased monarch.   When he returned, a
terrible sound like that of loud thunder was heard.
Haroon came down from the mountain on which the tomb stood, and ordered the 
road to be made
	inaccessible to future curiosity.  He searched for, and found, in 
the place described, the gold, the arms, and the jewels bequeathed to him by 
	Noo-sheerwan, and sent them to Baghdad.
Among the rich articles found was a golden crown, which had five sides, and 
was richly orna-mented with precious stones.  On every side a number of 
admirable lessons were written.  The most remarkable were as follows

First Side.

                     "Give my regards to those who know themselves.
     	"Consider the end before you begin, and before you advance provide a 
retreat.
	"Give not unnecessary pain to any man, but study the happiness of 
all.
	"Ground not your dignity upon your power to hurt others."


Second side.

	"Take counsel before you commence any measure, and never trust its 
execution to the inexperienced.
	"Sacrifice your property for your life, and your life for your 
religion.
	"Spend your time in establishing a good name; and if you desire 
fortune, learn contentment."


Third side.

	"Grieve not for that which is broken, stolen, burnt, or lost.
	"Never give orders in another man's house; and accustom yourself to 
eat your bread at your own table.
Make not yourself the captive of women."


Fourth side.
	
	"Take not a wife from a bad family, and seat not yourself with those 
who have no shame.
	"Keep yourself at a distance from those who are incorri-gible in bad 
habits, and hold no intercourse with that man who is insensible to kindness.
	"Covet not the goods of others.
	" Be guarded with monarchs, for they are like fire which blaze but 
destroys.
	"Be sensible to your own value; estimate justly the worth of others; 
and war not with those who are far above thee in fortune."


Fifth side.

	"Fear kings, women, and poets.
	"Be envious of no man, and habituate not yourself to search after 
the faults of others.
	"Make it a habit to be happy, and avoid being out of temper, or your 
life will pass in misery.
	"Respect and protect the females of your family.
	"Be not the slave of anger; and in your contests always leave open 
the door of conciliation.
	"Never let your expenses exceed your income.
"Plant a young tree, or you cannot expect to cut down an old one.
"Stretch your legs no further than the size of your carpet."


The caliph Haroon-oor-Rasheed was more pleased with the admirable maxims 
inscribed on this crown than with all the treasures he had found.  "Write 
these precepts," he exclaimed, "in a book, that the faithful may eat of the 
fruit of wisdom."  When he returned to Bagdad, he related to his favorite 
vizier, Jaffier Bermekee, and his other chief officers, all that had passed.  
The shade of Noosheerwan was propitiated by the disgrace of Hoosein-ben-
Sahil (who had recommended despoiling his tomb), and the exemplary 
punishment of the servant who had committed the sacrilegious act of taking 
the ring from the finger of the departed monarch.

AMEEN AND THE GHOOL.

THERE is a dreadful place in Persia called the "Valley of the Angel of 
Death."  That terrific minister of God's wrath, according to tradition, has 
resting-places upon the earth and his favorite abodes. He is surrounded by 
ghouls, 'horrid beings who, when he takes away life, feast upon the 
carcasses.
The natural shape of these monsters is terrible; but they can assume those 
of animals, such as cows or camels, or whatever they choose, often appearing 
to men as their relations or friends, and then they do not only transform 
their shapes, but their voices also are altered.  The frightful screams and 
yells which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines are changed for the 
softest and most melodious notes. Unwary travelers, deluded by the 
appearance of friends, or captivated by the forms and charmed by the music 
of these demons, are allured from their path, and after feasting for a few 
hours on every luxury, are consigned to destruction.
The number of these ghouls has greatly decreased since the birth of the 
Prophet, and they have no power to hurt those who pronounce his name in 
sincerity of faith.  These creatures are the very lowest of the supernatural 
world, and, besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and consequently 
often imposed upon by artful men.
The natives of Isfahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and acute 
people upon earth, and often supply the want of courage by their address. An 
inhabitant of that city was once compelled to travel alone at night through 
this dreadful valley.  He was a man of ready wit, and fond of adventures, 
and, though no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which had brought 
him through a hundred scrapes and perils that would have embarrassed or 
destroyed your simple man of valor.
This man, whose name was Ameen Beg, had heard many stories of the ghouls of 
the "Valley of the Angel of Death," and thought it likely he might meet one.  
He prepared accordingly, by putting an egg and a lump of salt in his pocket.  
He had not gone far amidst the rocks, when he heard a voice crying, "Holloa, 
Ameen Beg Isfahanee! you are going the wrong road, you will lose yourself; 
come this way.  I am your friend Kerreem Beg; I know your father, old 
Kerbela Beg, and the street in which you were born."  Ameen knew well the 
power the ghouls had of assuming the shape of any person they choose; and he 
also knew their skill as genealogists, and their knowledge of towns as well 
as families; he had therefore little doubt this was one of those creatures 
alluring him to destruction. He, however, determined to encounter him, and 
trust to his art for his escape.
"Stop, my friend, till .I come near you," was his
reply.  When Ameen came close to the ghoul, he said, "You are not my friend 
Kerreem; you are a lying demon, but you are just the being I desired to 
meet. I have tried my strength against all the men and all the beasts which 
exist in the natural world, and I can find nothing that is a match for me.  
I came therefore to this valley in the hope of encountering a ghoul, that I 
might prove my prowess upon him."
The ghoul, astonished at being addressed in this manner, looked keenly at 
him, and said, "Son of Adam, you do not appear so strong."  "Appear-ances 
are deceitful," replied Ameen; "but I will give you a proof of my strength.  
There," said he, picking up a stone from a rivulet, "this contains a fluid; 
try if you can so squeeze it that it will flow out."  The ghoul took the 
stone, but, after a short attempt, returned it, saying, "The thing is impos-
sible." "Quite easy," said the Isfahanee, taking the stone and placing it in 
the hand in which he had before put an egg.  "Look there!"  And the 
astonished ghoul, while he heard what he took for the breaking of the stone, 
saw the liquid run from between Ameen's fingers, and this apparently without 
any effort.
Ameen, aided by the darkness, placed the stone upon the ground while he 
picked up another of a darker hue.  "This," said he, "I can see contains 
salt, as you will find if you can crumble it between your fingers;" but the 
ghoul, looking at it, con-fessed he had neither knowledge to discover its 
qualities nor strength to break it.  "Give it me," said his companion 
impatiently.  Having put it into the same hand with the piece of salt, he 
instantly gave the latter all crushed to the ghoul, who, seeing it reduced 
to powder, tasted it, and remained in stupid astonishment at the skill and 
strength of this wonderful man.  Neither was he without alarm lest his 
strength should be exerted against himself, and he saw no safety in 
resorting to the shape of a beast, for Ameen had warned him that if he 
commenced any such unfair dealing, he would instantly slay him; for ghouls, 
though long-lived, are not immortal
Under such circumstances he thought his best plan was to conciliate the 
friendship of his new companion till he found an opportunity of destroy-ing 
him.
"Most wonderful man," he said, "will you honor my abode with your presence? 
It is quite at hand; there you will find every refreshment; and after a com-
fortable night's rest you can resume your journey."
I have no objection, friend ghoul, to accept your offer; but, mark me, I am 
very passionate, and must not be provoked by any expressions which are in 
the least disrespectful.  I also am full of penetration, and can see through 
your designs as clearly as I saw into that hard stone in which I discovered 
salt. So take care you entertain none that are wicked, or you shall suffer."
The ghoul declared that the ear of his guest should be pained by no 
expression to which it did not befit his dignity to listen; and he swore by 
the head of his liege lord, the Angel of Death, that he would faithfully 
respect the rights of hospitality and friend-ship.
Thus satisfied, Ameen followed the ghoul through a number of crooked paths, 
rugged cliffs, and deep ravines, till they came to a large cave, which was 
dimly lighted.  "Here," said the ghoul, "I dwell, and here my friend will 
find all he can want for refreshment and repose."  So saying, he led him to 
various apartments, in which were hoarded every species of grain, and all 
kinds of merchandise, plundered from travelers who had been deluded to this 
den, and of whose fate Ameen was too well
informed by the bones over which he now and then stumbled, and by the putrid 
smell produced by some half-consumed carcasses.
"This will be sufficient for your supper, I hope,"
said the ghoul, taking up a large bag of rice; "a man of your prowess must 
have a tolerable appetite." "True, said Ameen, "but I ate a sheep and as
much rice as you have there before I proceeded on my journey.  I am, 
consequently, not hungry, but will take a little lest I offend your 
hospitality."
"I must boil it for you," said the demon; "you do not eat grain and meat 
raw, as we do.  Here is a kettle," said he, taking up one lying amongst the 
plundered property.  "I will go and get wood for a fire, while you fetch 
water with that," pointing to a bag made of the hides of six oxen.
Ameen waited till he saw his host leave the cave for the wood, and then with 
great difficulty he dragged the enormous bag to the bank of a dark
stream, which issued from the rocks at the other end of the cavern, and, 
after being visible for a few
yards, disappeared underground.
"How shall I," thought Ameen, "prevent my weakness being discovered? This 
bag I could hardly manage when empty; when full, it would require twenty 
strong men to carry it. What shall I do?  I shall certainly be eaten up by 
this cannibal ghoul, who is now only kept in order by the impression of my 
great strength."  After some minutes' reflection the Isfahanee thought of a 
scheme, and began digging a small channel from the stream towards the place 
where his supper was preparing.
"What are you doing?" Vociferated the ghoul, as
he advanced towards him; "I sent you for water to boil a little rice, and 
you have been an hour about
it.  Cannot you fill the bag and bring it away?" "Certainly I can," said 
Ameen; "if I were content, after all your kindness, to show my gratitude 
merely by feats of brute strength, I could lift your stream if you had a bag 
large enough to hold it. But here," said he, pointing to the channel he had 
begun, "Here is the commencement of a work in which the mind of a man is 
employed to lessen the labor of his body.  This canal, small as it may 
appear, will carry a stream to the other end of the cave, in which I will 
construct a dam that you can open and shut at pleasure, and thereby save 
yourself infinite trouble in fetching water. But pray let me alone till it 
is finished," and he began to dig. "Nonsense!” said the ghoul, seizing the 
bag and filling it. "I will carry the water myself, and I advise you to 
leave off your canal, as you call it, and follow me, that you may eat your 
supper and go to sleep. You may finish this fine work, if you like, tomorrow 
morning."
Ameen congratulated himself on this escape, and was not slow in taking the 
advice of his host. After having ate heartily of the supper that was 
prepared, he went to repose on a bed made of the richest coverlets and 
pillows, which were taken from one of the store-rooms of plundered goods.  
The ghoul, whose bed was also in the cave, had no sooner
laid down than he fell into a sound sleep.  The anxiety of Ameen's mind 
prevented him from following his example. He rose gently, and having stuffed 
a long pillow into the middle of his bed, to make it appear as if he was 
still there, he retired to a concealed place in the cavern to watch the 
proceedings of the ghoul.  The latter awoke a short time before daylight, 
and rising, went, without making any noise, towards Ameen's bed, where, not 
observing the least stir, he was satisfied that his guest was in a deep 
sleep.  He took up one of his walking-sticks, which was in size like the 
trunk of a tree, and struck a terrible blow at what he sup-posed to be 
Ameen's head.  He smiled not to hear a groan, thinking he had deprived him 
of life; but to make sure of his work, he repeated the blow seven times.  He 
then returned to rest, but had hardly settled himself to sleep, when Ameen, 
who had crept into the bed, raised his head above the clothes and exclaimed, 
“Friend ghoul, what insect could it be that has disturbed me by its tapping? 
I counted the flap of its little wings seven times on the coverlet.  These 
vermin are very annoying, for, though they cannot hurt a man, they disturb 
his rest!
The ghoul’s dismay on hearing Ameen speak at all was great, but that was 
increased to perfect fright when he heard him describe seven blows, any one 
of which would have felled an elephant, as seven flaps of an insect's wing.  
There was no safety, he thought, near so wonderful a man, and he soon 
afterwards arose and fled from the cave, leaving the Isfahanee its sole 
master.
When Ameen found his host gone, he was at no loss to conjecture the cause, 
and immediately began to survey the treasures with which he was surrounded, 
and to contrive means for removing them to his home.
After examining the contents of the cave, and arming himself with a 
matchlock, which had belonged to some victim of the ghoul, he proceeded to 
survey the road. He had, however, only gone a short distance when he saw the 
ghoul returning with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by a fox. 
Ameen's knowledge of the cunning animal instantly led him to suspect that it 
had undeceived his enemy, but his presence of mind did not forsake him.  
"Take that," said he to the fox, aiming a ball at him from his matchlock, 
and shooting him through the head, " Take that for your not perform-ing my 
orders.  That brute," said he, "promised to bring me seven ghouls, that I 
might chain them, and carry them to Isfahan, and here he has only brought 
you, who are already my slave."  So saying, he advanced towards the ghoul; 
but the latter had already taken to flight, and by the aid of his club 
bounded so rapidly over rocks and precipices that he was soon out of sight.
Ameen having well marked the path from the cavern to the road, went to the 
nearest town and hired camels and mules to remove the property he had 
acquired. After making restitution to all who remained alive to prove their 
goods, he became, from what was unclaimed, a man of wealth, all of which was 
owing to that wit and art which ever overcome brute strength and courage.

THE RELATIONS OF SSIDI KUR.

GLORIFIED Nangasuna Garbi! You art radiant within and without. The holy 
vessel of sublimity, the fathomer of concealed thoughts, the second of 
instructors!  I bow before thee. What wonderful adventures fell to the lot 
of Nangasuna, and to the peaceful wandering Chan. How instructive and 
learned the. Ssidi will be found, all this is developed in thirteen pleasing 
narratives.
And I will first relate the origin of these tales:
In the central kingdom of India there once lived seven brothers, who were 
magicians; and one berren (a measure of distance) further dwelt two 
brothers, who were sons of a Chan.  Now the eldest of these sons of the Chan 
betook himself to the magicians, that he might learn their art; but although 
he studied under them for seven years, yet the magicians taught him not the 
true key to magic.
And once upon a time it happened that the youngest brother, going to bring 
food to the elder, peeped through the opening of the door, and obtained the 
key to magic.  Thereupon, without delivering to the elder the food which he 
had brought for him, he returned home to the palace. Then said the younger 
son of the Chan to his brother, "That we have learned magic, let us keep to 
ourselves.  We have in the stable a beautiful horse; take this horse, and 
ride not with him near the dwelling-place of the magicians, but sell the 
horse in their country, and bring back merchan-dise."
And when he had said thus, he changed himself into a horse. But the elder 
son of the Chan heeded not the words of his brother, but said unto himself:
"Full seven years have I studied magic, and as yet have learned nothing.  
Where, then, has my young brother found so beautiful a horse and how can I 
refuse to ride thereon?"
With these words he mounted, but the horse being impelled by the power of 
magic was not to be restrained, galloped away to the dwelling-place of the 
magicians, and could not be got from the door. "Well, then, I will sell the 
horse to the magicians." Thus thinking to himself, the elder called out to 
the magicians, "Saw you ever a horse like unto this? My younger brother it 
was who found him." At these words the magicians communed with one another.  
"This is a magic horse; if magic grow at all common, there will be no 
wonderful art remain-ing.  Let us, therefore, take this horse and slay him."
The magicians paid the price demanded for the horse, and tied him in a 
stall; and that he might not escape out of their hands, they fastened him, 
ready for slaughter, by the head, by the tail, and by the feet.  "Ah!" 
thought the horse to himself, "my elder brother hearkened not unto me, and 
therefore am I fallen into such hands.  What form shall I assume?"  While 
the horse was thus considering, he saw a fish swim by him in the water, and 
immediately he changed himself into a fish.
But the seven magicians became seven herons, and pursued the fish, and were 
on the point of catching it, when it looked up and beheld a dove in the sky, 
and thereupon transformed itself into a dove.  The seven magicians now 
became seven hawks, and followed the dove over mountains and rivers, and 
would certainly have seized upon it, but the dove, flying eastwards to the 
peaceful cave in the rock Gulumtschi, concealed itself in the bosom of 
Nangasuna Baktschi (the Instructor).  Then the seven hawks became seven 
beggars, and drew nigh unto the rock Gulumtschi. "What may this import?" 
bethought the Baktschi to himself, "that this dove has fled hither pursued 
by seven hawks?"  Thus thinking, the Baktschi said, "Wherefore, O dove, fly 
you here in such alarm?" Then the dove related to him the cause of its 
flight, and spoke afterwards as follows:" At the entrance to the rock 
Gulumtschi stand seven beggars, and they will come to the Baktschi and say, 
'We pray thee give us the rosary of the Baktschi.' Then will I trans-form 
myself into the Bumba of the rosary; let the Baktschi then vouchsafe to take 
this Bumba into his mouth and to cast the rosary from him."
Hereupon the seven beggars drew nigh, and the Baktschi took the first bead 
into his mouth and the rest he cast from him.  The beads which were cast 
away then became worms, and the seven beggars became fowls and ate up the 
worms.  Then the Baktschi let the first bead fall from his mouth, and 
thereupon the first bead was transformed into a man with a sword in his 
hand. When the seven fowls were slain and become human corpses, the Baktschi 
was troubled in his soul, and said these words, "Through my having preserved 
one single man have seven been slain.  Of a verity this is not good."
To these words the other replied, "I am the Son of a Ohan.  Since, 
therefore, through. the preservation of my life, several others have lost 
their lives, I will, to cleanse me from my sins, and also to reward the 
Baktschi, execute whatsoever he shall command me." The Baktschi replied 
thereto, "Now, then, in the cold Forest of Death there abides Ssidi Kur; the 
upper part of his body is decked with gold, the lower is of brass, his head 
is covered with silver. Seize him and hold him fast.  Whosoever finds this 
wonderful Ssidi Kur, him will I make for a thousand years a man upon the 
earth."
Thus spoke he, and the youth thereupon began these words: "The way which I 
must take, the food which I require, the means which I must employ, all 
these vouchsafe to make known unto me." To this the Baktschi replied, "It 
shall be as you demands. At the distance of a berren (a measure of distance) 
from this place you will come to a gloomy forest, through which you will 
find there runs only one narrow path. The place is full of spirits. When you 
reaches the spirits, they will throng around you; then cry you with a loud 
voice, 'Spirits, chu lu chu lu ssochi!' And when you have spoken these 
words, they will all be scattered like grain. When you have proceeded a 
little further, you will encounter a crowd of other spirits; then cry you, 
'Spirits, chu lu chu lu ssosi!' And a little further on you will behold a 
crowd of child-spirits: say unto these, 'Child-spirits, Ri ra pa dra!' In 
the middle of this wood sits Ssidi Kur, beside an amiri-tree.  When he 
beholds you, he will climb up it, but you must take the moon-axe, with 
furious gestures draw nigh unto the tree, and bid Ssidi Kur descend.  To 
bring him away you will require this sack, which would hold a hundred men. 
To bind him fast this hundred fathoms of checkered rope will serve you.. 
This inexhaustible cake will furnish thee with provender for your journey.  
When you have got your load upon your back, wander then on without speaking, 
until you art returned home again.  Your name is Son of the Chan; and since 
you have reached the peaceful rock Gulumtschi, you shall be called the 
peaceful wandering Son of the Chan."
Thus spoke the Baktschi, and showed him the way of expiation.  When Ssidi 
Kur beheld his pursuer, he speedily climbed up the amiri-tree, but the Son 
of the Chan drew nigh unto the foot of the tree, and spoke with threatening 
words: "My Baktschi is Nangasuna Garbi; mine axe is called the white moon; 
an inexhaustible cake is my pro-vender.  This sack, capable of holding a 
hundred men, will serve to carry thee away, this hundred fathoms of rope 
will serve to bind thee fast; I my-self am the peaceful wandering Son of the 
Chan. Descend, or I will hew down the tree."
Then spoke Ssidi Kur, "Do not hew down the tree; I will descend from it."
And when he had descended, the Son of the Chan thrust him into the sack, 
tied the sack fast with the rope, ate of the butter-cake, and wandered forth 
many days with his burden.  At length Ssidi Kur said to the Son of the Chan, 
"Since our long journey is wearisome unto us, I will tell a story unto you, 
or do you relate one unto me."
The Son of the Chan kept on his way, however, without speaking a word, and 
Ssidi began afresh,
"If you wilt tell a story, nod your head to me; if I shall relate one, then 
do you shake your head."
But because the Son of the Chan shook his head from side to side, without 
uttering a word, Ssidi began the following tale

THE ADVENTURES OF THE RICH YOUTH.


"In former times there lived, in a great kingdom, a rich youth, a 
calculator, a mechanic, a painter, a physician, and a smith, and they all 
departed from their parents and went forth into a foreign land. When they at 
length arrived at the mouth of a great river, they planted, every one of 
them, a tree of life; and each of them, following one of the sources of the 
river, set forth to seek their fortunes.  'Here,' said they to one another,-
' here will we meet again. Should, however, any one of us be missing, and 
his tree of life be withered, we will search for him in the place whither he 
went to.'
"Thus they agreed, and separated one from another.  And the rich youth found 
at the source of the stream, which he had followed, a pleasure garden with a 
house, in the entrance to which were seated an old man and an old woman.  
'Good youth,' exclaimed they both, 'whence comes you-whither goes you?'  The 
youth replied, 'I come from a distant country, and am going to seek my 
fortune.'  And the old couple said unto him, 'It is well you have come-
hither. We have a daughter, slender of shape and pleasant of behavior. Take 
her, and be a son unto us!'
"And when they had so spoken, the daughter made her appearance. And when the 
youth beheld her, he thought unto himself, 'It is well I left my father and 
my mother. This maiden is more beau-teous than a daughter of the Tangari 
(godlike spirits of the male and female sex). I will take the maiden and 
dwell here.' And the maiden said, 'Youth, it is well that you came here.' 
Thereupon they conversed together, went together into the house, and lived 
peacefully and happily.
"Now, over the same country there reigned a mighty Chan. And once in the 
springtime, when his servants went forth together to bathe, they found, near 
the mouth of the river, in the water, a pair of costly earrings, which 
belonged to the wife of the rich youth. Because, therefore, these jewels 
were so wondrously beautiful, they carried them to the Chan, who, being 
greatly surprised thereat, said unto his servants, 'Dwells there at the 
source of the river a woman such as these belong to? Go, and bring her unto 
me.
"The servants went accordingly, beheld the woman, and were amazed at the 
sight.  'This woman,' said they to one another, 'one would never tire of 
beholding.' But to the woman they said, 'Arise! And draw nigh with us unto 
the Chan.'
	     "Hereupon the rich youth conducted his wife to the presence of 
the Chan; but the Chan, when he beheld her, exclaimed, 'This maiden is a 
Tangari., compared with her, my wives are but ugly.'
Thus spoke he, and he was so smitten with love of her, that he would not let 
her depart from his house.  But as she remained true and faithful to the 
rich youth, the Chan said unto his servants, 'Remove this rich youth 
instantly out of my sight.'
"At these commands the servants went forth, taking with them the rich youth, 
whom they led to the water, where they laid him in a pit by the side of the 
stream, covered him with a huge fragment of the rock, and thus slew him.
"At length it happened that the other wanderers returned from all sides, 
each to his tree of life. When the rich youth was missed, and they saw that 
his tree of life was withered, they sought him up the source of the river 
which he had followed, but found him not.  Hereupon the reckoner discovered, 
by his calculations, that the rich youth was lying dead under a piece of the 
rock; but as they could by no means remove the stone, the smith took his 
hammer, smote the stone, and drew out the body. Then the physician mixed a 
life-inspiring draught, gave the same to the dead youth, and so restored him 
to life.
"They now demanded of him whom they had recalled to life, 'In what manner 
were you slain?'
     He accordingly related unto them the circumstances; and they communed 
one with another, saying, 'Let us snatch this extraordinary beautiful woman 
from the Ohan!' Thereupon the mechanic constructed a wooden gerudin, or 
wonderful bird, which, when moved upwards from within, ascended into the 
air; when moved downwards, descended into the earth; when moved sideways, 
flew sideways accordingly. When this was done, they painted it with 
different colors, so that it was pleasant to behold.
"Then the rich youth seated himself within the wooden bird, flew through the 
air, and hovered over the roof of the royal mansion.  The Chan and his 
servants were astonished at the form of the bird, and said, 'A bird like 
unto this we never before saw or heard of.'  And to his wife the Chan said,' 
Go you to the roof of the palace, and offer food of different kinds unto 
this strange bird.' When she went up to offer food, the bird descended, and 
the rich youth opened the door which was in the bird. Then said the wife of 
the Chan, full of joy, 'I had never hoped or thought to have seen thee 
again, yet now have I found thee once more.  This has been accomplished by 
this wonderful bird.' After the youth had related to her all that had 
happened, he said to her, 'You are now the wife of the Chan, but if your 
heart now yearns unto me, step into this wooden gerudin, and we will fly 
hence through the air, and for the future know care no more.
"After these words the wife said, 'To the first husband to whom destiny 
united me am I inclined more than ever.  Having thus spoken they entered 
into the wooden gerudin, and ascended into the sky. The Chan beheld this, 
and said, 'Because I sent thee up that you might feed this beautiful bird, 
you have betaken yourself to the skies.' Thus spoke he full of anger, and 
threw himself weeping on the ground.
"The rich youth now turned the peg in the bird downwards, and descended upon 
the earth close to his companions. And when he stepped forth out of the 
bird, his companions asked him, 'Have you thoroughly accomplished all that 
you did desire?' Thereupon his wife also stepped forth, and all who beheld 
her became in love with her.  You, my companions,' said the rich youth, 
'have brought help unto me; you have awakened me from death; you have 
afforded me the means of once more finding my wife.  Do not, I beseech you, 
rob me of my charmer once again.'
"Thus spoke he; and the calculator began with these words:' Had I not 
discovered by my calcula-tion where you were lying, you would never have 
recovered your wife.'
"'In vain,' said the smith, ' would the calculations have been, had I not 
drawn thee out of the rock. By means of the shattered rock it was that you 
obtained your wife.  Then your wife belongs to me.'
	     "'A body,' said the physician, 'was drawn from out of the 
shattered rock.  That this body was restored to life, and recovered his 
former wife, it was my skill accomplished it. I, therefore, should take the 
wife.'
"'But for the wooden bird,' said the mechanic, 'no one would ever have 
reached the wife.  A numerous host attend upon the Chan; no one can approach 
the house wherein he resides.  Through my wooden bird alone was the wife 
recovered. Let me, then, take her.'
"'The wife,' said the painter, 'never would have carried food to a wooden 
bird; therefore it was only through my skill in painting that she was 
recovered; I, therefore, claim her.'
"And when they had thus spoken, they drew their knives and slew one 
another."
"Alas! Poor woman'." exclaimed the son of the Chan; and Ssidi said, "Ruler 
of Destiny, you have spoken words: Ssarwala missbrod jackzang!" Thus spoke 
he, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi's first tale treated of the adventures of the rich youth.


THE ADVENTURES OF THE BEGGAR'S SON.

When the Son of the Chan arrived as before at the cold Forest of Death, he 
exclaimed with threat-ening gestures at the foot of the amiri-tree, "You 
dead one, descend, or I will hew down the tree." Ssidi descended.  The son 
of Chan placed him in
	the sack, bound the sack fast with the rope, ate of his provender, 
and journeyed forth with his burden. Then spoke the dead one these words, 
"Since we have a long journey before us, do you relate a pleasant story by 
the way, or I will do so." But the Son of the Chan merely shook his head 
without speaking a word.  Whereupon Ssidi commenced the following tale
"A long time ago there was a mighty Chan who was ruler over a country full 
of marketplaces.  At the source of the river which ran through it there was 
an immense marsh, and in this marsh there dwelt two crocodile-frogs, who 
would not allow the water to run out of the marsh.  And because there came 
no water over their fields, every year did both the good and the bad have 
cause to mourn, until such times as a man had been given to the frogs for 
the pests to devour.  And at length the lot fell upon the Chan himself to be 
an offering to them, and needful as he was to the welfare of the king-dom, 
denial availed him not; therefore father and Son communed sorrowfully 
together, saying, 'Which of us two shall go?'
"I am an old man," said the father, "and shall leave no one to lament me.  I 
will go, therefore. Do you remain here, my son, and reign according as it is 
appointed."
"'O Tangari,’ exclaimed the son, 'verily this is not as it should be! You 
have brought me up with care, O my father! If the Chan and the wife
	of the Chan remain, what need is there of their son? I then will go, 
and be as a feast for the frogs.'
"Thus spoke he, and the people walked sorrow-fully round about him, and then 
betook themselves back again.  Now the son of the Chan had for his companion 
the son of a poor man, and he went to him and said, 'Walk you according to 
the will of your parents, and remain at home in peace and safety. I am 
going, for the good of the kingdom, to serve as a sacrifice to the frogs.' 
At these words the son of the poor man said, weeping and lamenting, 'from my 
youth up, O Chan, you have carefully fostered me.  I will go with thee, and 
share your fate."
"Then they both arose and went unto the frogs; and on the verge of the marsh 
they heard the yellow frog and the blue frog conversing with one another. 
And the frogs said, 'If the son of the Chan and his companion only knew that 
if they smote off our heads with the sword.   And if the son of the Chan 
consumed me, the yellow frog, and the son of the poor man consumed thee, the 
blue frog, they would both cast out from their mouths gold and brass, then 
would the country be no longer compelled to find food for frogs.'
"Now, because the son of the Chan understood all sorts of languages, he 
comprehended the discourse of the frogs, and he and his companion smote the 
heads of the frogs with their swords.  Then when they had devoured the 
frogs, they threw out from their mouths gold and brass at their heart's 
pleasure. Then said the wanderers, 'The frogs are both slain-the course of 
the waters will be hemmed in no more. Let us then turn back unto our own 
country.' But the son of the Chan agreed not to this, and said, 'Let us not 
turn back into our own country, lest they say they are become spirits; 
therefore it is better that we journey further.'
"As they thereupon were walking over a mountain, they came to a tavern, in 
which dwelt two women, beautiful to behold-mother and daughter. Then said 
they, 'We would buy strong liquor that we might drink.' The women replied, 
'What have you to give in exchange for strong liquor?' There-upon each of 
them threw forth gold and brass, and the women found pleasure therein, 
admitted them into their dwelling, gave them liquor in abundance, until they 
became stupid and slept, took from them what they had, and then turned them 
out of doors.'
"Now when they awoke the son of the Chan and his companion traveled along a 
river and arrived in a wood, where they found some children quarrel-ling one 
with another. 'Wherefore,' inquired they, 'do you thus dispute?'
"'We have,' said the children, 'found a cap in this wood, and every one 
desires to possess it.'
"'Of what use is the cap?'
"'The cap has this wonderful property, that whosoever places it on his head 
can he seen neither
by the Tangari, nor by men, nor by the Tschadkurrs' (evil spirits).
"'Now go all of you to the end of the forest and run hither,. and I will in 
the meanwhile keep the cap, and give it to the first of you who reaches me.'
"Thus spoke the son of the Chan; and the chil-dren ran, but they found not 
the cap, for it was upon the head of the Chan.  'Even now it was here,' said 
they, 'and now it is gone.' And after they had sought for it, but without 
finding it, they went away weeping.
"And the son of the Chan and his companion traveled onwards, and at last 
they came to a forest in which they found a body of Tschadkurrs quar-relling 
one with another, and they said, 'Wherefore do you thus quarrel one with 
another?'
"'I,' exclaimed each of them, 'have made my-self master of these boots.'
"'Of what use are these boots?' inquired the son of the Chan.
"'He who wears these boots,' replied the Tschad-kurrs, 'is conveyed to any 
country wherein he wishes himself.'
"'Now,' answered the son of the Chan, 'go all of you that way, and he who 
first runs hither shall obtain the boots.'
"And the Tschadkurrs, when they heard these words, ran as they were told, 
but the son of the Chan had concealed the boots in the bosom of his com-
panion with the cap upon his head. And the Tschadkurrs saw the boots no 
more; they sought them in vain, and went their way.
"And when they were gone, the prince and his companion drew on each of them 
one of the boots, and they wished themselves near the place of election in a 
Chan's kingdom. They wished their journey, laid themselves down to sleep, 
and on their awak-ing in the morning they found themselves in the hollow of 
a tree, right in the center of the imperial place of election. It was, 
moreover, a day for the assembling of the people, to throw a Baling (a 
sacred figure of dough or paste) under the guidance of the Tangari.  'Upon 
whose head even the Baling falls, he shall be our Chan.' Thus spoke they as 
they threw it up; but the tree caught the Baling of Destiny. 'What means 
this?' exclaimed they all with one accord.  'Shall we have a tree for our 
Chan?'
"'Let us examine,' cried they one to another, 'whether the tree concealed 
any stranger.' And when they approached the tree the son of the Chan and his 
companion stepped forth. But the people stood yet in doubt, and said one to 
another thus, 'Whoso-ever ruled over the people of this land, this shall be 
decided to-morrow morning by what proceeded from their mouths.'  And when 
they had thus spoken, they all took their departure.
	     "On the following morning some drank water, and what they threw 
from their mouths was white; others ate grass, and what they threw from 
their mouths was green. In short, one threw one thing, and another thing. 
But because the son of the Chan and his companion cast out from their mouths 
gold and brass, the people cried, 'Let the one be Chan of this people-let 
the other be his minister.'  Thus were they nominated Chan and minister!  
And the daughter of the former Chan was appointed the wife of the new Chan.
"Now in the neighborhood of the palace wherein the Chan dwelt was a lofty 
building, whither the wife of the Chan betook herself every day. 
'Wherefore,' thought the minister, 'does the wife of the Chan betake herself 
to this spot every day?' Thus thinking, he placed the wonderful cap upon his 
head, and followed the Chan's wife through the open doors, up one step after 
another, up to the roof. Here the wife of the Chan gathered together silken 
coverlets and pillows, made ready various drinks and delicate meats, and 
burnt for their perfume tapers and frankincense. The minister being 
concealed by his cap, which made him invisible, seated himself by the side 
of the Chan's wife, and looked around on every side.
"Shortly afterwards a beautiful bird swept through the sky. The wife of the 
Chan received it with fragrance-giving tapers.  The bird seated itself
upon the roof and twittered with a pleasing voice; but out of the bird came 
Solangdu, the Son of the Tangari whose beauty was incomparable, and he laid 
himself on the silken coverlets and fed of the dainties prepared for him. 
Then spoke the son of the Tangari, 'You have passed this morning with the 
husband whom your fate has allotted to thee. What do think of him?' The wife 
of the Chan answered, 'I know too little of the prince to speak of his good 
qualities or his defects.' Thus passed the day, and the wife of the Chan 
returned home again.
"On the following day the minister followed the wife of the Chan as he had 
done before, and heard the son of the Tangari say unto her, 'To-morrow I 
will come like a bird of Paradise to see thine husband.' And the wife of the 
Chan said, 'Be it so.'
"The day passed over, and the minister said to the Chan, In yonder palace 
lives Solangdu, the beauteous son of the Tangari.' The minister then related 
all that he had witnessed, and said, 'To-morrow early the son of the Tangari 
will seek thee, disguised like a bird of Paradise.  I will seize t'
bird by the tail, and cast him into the fire; but you must smite him in 
pieces with the sword.'
"On the following morning, the Chan and the wife of the Chan were seated 
together, when the son of the Tangari, transformed into a bird of Paradise, 
appeared before them on the steps that led to the palace.  The wife of the 
Chan greeted the bird with looks expressive of pleasure, but the minister, 
who had on his invisible-making cap, seized the bird suddenly by the tail, 
and cast him into the fire. And the Chan smote at him violently with his 
sword; but the wife of the Chan seized the hand of her husband, so that only 
the wings of the bird were scorched.  'Alas, poor bird!' ex-claimed the wife 
of the Chan, as, half dead, it made its way, as well as it could, through 
the air.
	     "On the next morning the wife of the Chan went as usual to the 
lofty building, and this time, too, did the minister follow her.  She 
collected to-gether, as usual, the silken pillows, but waited longer than 
she was wont, and sat watching with staring eyes.  At length the bird 
approached with a very slow flight, and came down from the bird-house 
covered with blood an4 wounds, and the wife of the Chan wept at the sight.  
'Weep not,' said the son of the Tangari; 'your husband has a heavy hand.  
The fire has so scorched me that I can never come more.'
"Thus spoke he, and the wife of the Chan re-plied, 'Do not say so, but come 
as you are wont to do, at least come on the day of the full moon.' Then the 
son of the Tangari flew up to the sky again, and the wife of the Chan began 
from that time to love her husband with her whole heart.
     "Then the minister placed his wonderful cap upon his head.  Drawing 
near to a pagoda, he saw, through the crevice of the door, a man, who spread 
out a figure of an ass, rolled himself over and over upon the figure, 
thereupon took upon him-self the form of an ass, and ran up and down bray-
ing like one.  Then he began rolling afresh, and appeared in his human form. 
At last he folded up the paper, and placed it in the hand of a burchan (a 
Calmuc idol). And when the man came out the minister went in and procured 
the paper.  Remem-bering the ill treatment he had formerly re-ceived, the 
minister went to the mother and daughter who had sold him the strong liquor, 
and said, with crafty words, 'I am come to you to reward you for your good 
deeds.' With these words he gave the women three pieces of gold; and the 
women asked him, saying, 'You art, indeed, an honest man, but where did you 
procure so much gold?' Then the minister answered, 'By merely rolling 
backwards and forwards over this paper did I procure this gold.' On hearing 
these words, the women said, 'Grant us that we too may roll upon it.' And 
they did so, and were changed into asses. And the minister brought the asses 
to the Chan, and the Chan said, 'Let them be employed in. carrying stones 
and earth'.
	     "Thus spoke he, and for three years were these two asses 
compelled to carry stones and earth; and
their backs were sore wounded, and covered with bruises.  Then saw the Chan 
their eyes filled with tears, and he said to the minister, 'Torment the poor 
brutes no longer.'
"Thereupon they rolled upon the paper, and after they had done so they were 
changed to two shriveled women."
"Poor creatures!" exclaimed the Son of the Chan. Ssidi replied, "Ruler of 
Destiny, you have spoken words: Ssarwala missdood jakzank!" Thus spoke he, 
and flew out of the sack through the air.
	And Ssidi's second relation treats of the adven-tures of the Poor 
Man's Son.


	THE ADVENTURES OF MASSANG.

	When the Son of the Chan arrived at the foot of the amiri-tree, and 
spoke as he had formerly done, Ssidi approached him, suffered himself to be 
placed in the sack, fastened with the rope, and carried away. Ssidi spoke as 
before, but the Son of the Chan shook his head, whereupon Ssidi began as 
follows
A long time ago there lived in a certain country
a poor man, who had nothing in the world but one
	cow; and because there was no chance of the cow's calving, he was 
sore grieved, and said, 'If my cow
does not have a calf, I shall have no more milk, and
	I must then die of hunger and thirst.'
     "But when a certain number of moons had 
passed, instead of the calf the poor man had looked 
for he found a man with horns, and with a long tail 
like a cow.  And at the sight of this monster the 
owner of the beast was filled with vexation, and he 
lifted up his staff to kill him; but the horned man 
said, 'Kill me not, father, and your mercy shall be 
rewarded.'
"And with these words he retreated into the depth of a forest, and there he 
found among the trees a man of sable hue.  'Who art you?' in-quired Massang 
the horned. 'I was born of the forest,' was the reply, 'and am called Iddar.  
I will follow thee wherever you go.'
"And they journeyed forth together, and at last they reached a thickly-
covered grassy plain, and there they beheld a green man. 'Who art you?' 
inquired they.  'I was born of the grass,' replied the green man, 'and will 
bear thee company.'
"Thereupon they all three journeyed forth to-gether, until they came to a 
sedgy marsh, and there they found a white man.  'Who art you?' in-quired 
they. 'I was born of the sedges,' replied the white man, 'and will bear thee 
company.'
	     "Thereupon they all four journeyed forth to-gether, until they 
reached a desert country, where, in the very depths of the mountain, they 
found a hut; and because they found plenty both to eat and to drink in the 
hut, they abode there.  Every day three of them went out hunting, and left 
the fourth in charge of the hut.  On the first day, Iddar, the Son of the 
Forest, remained in the hut, and was busied preparing milk, and cooking meat 
for his companions, when a little old woman put up the ladder and came in at 
the door.  'Who’s there?’ exclaimed Iddar, and, upon looking round, he 
beheld an old woman about a span high, who carried on her back a little 
sack. 'Oh, what, there is somebody sitting there?' said the old woman, 'and 
you are cooking meat; let me, I beseech you, taste a little milk and a 
little meat.'
"And though she merely tasted a little of each, the whole of the food 
disappeared. When the old woman thereupon took her departure, the Son of the 
Forest was ashamed that the food had disap-peared, and he arose and looked 
out of the hut. And as he chanced to perceive two hoofs of a horse, he made 
with them a number of horse's footmarks around the dwelling.  Then he shot 
an arrow into the court; and when the hunters returned home and inquired of 
him, 'Where is the milk and the fatted meat?' He answered them, saying, 
'There came a hundred horsemen, who pressed their way into the house, and 
took the milk and the flesh, and they have beaten me almost to death.  Go 
you out, and look around' And his companions went out when they heard these 
words, looked around, saw the prints of the horses' feet and the arrow which 
he himself had shot, and said, 'The words which he spoke are true.'
	     "On the following day the Son of the Grass remained at home in 
the hut, and it befell him as it had befallen his companion on the previous 
day. But because he perceived the feet of two bullocks, he made with them 
the marks of the feet of many bullocks around the dwelling, and said to his 
com-panions, 'There came a hundred people with laden bullocks, and robbed me 
of the food I had prepared for you.'
"Thus spoke he falsely. On the third day the Son of the Sedges remained at 
home in the hut. Because he met with no better fortune, he made, with a 
couple of the feet of a mule, a number of prints of mules' feet around the 
dwelling, and said to his companions, 'A hundred men with laden mules 
surrounded the house, and robbed me of the food I had prepared for you.
"Thus spoke he falsely. On the following day Massang remained at home in the 
hut, and as he was sitting preparing milk and flesh for his companions, the 
little old woman stepped in as before and said, 'Oh, so there is somebody 
here this time? Let me, I pray you, taste a little of the milk and a little 
of the meat.' At these words Massang considered, 'Of a certainty this old 
woman has been here before. If I do what she requires of me, how do I know 
that there will be any left?'  And having thus
considered, he said to the old woman, 'Old woman, before you taste food, 
fetch me some water.' Thus spoke he, giving her a bucket, of which the 
bottom was drilled full of holes, to fetch water in. When the old woman was 
gone, Massang looked after her, and found that the span-high old woman, 
reaching now up to the skies, drew the bucket full of water again and again, 
but that none of the water remained in it. While she was thus occupied, 
Massang peeped into the little sack which she carried on her shoulders, and 
took out of it a coil of rope, an iron hammer, and a pair of iron pincers, 
and put in their place some very rotten cords, a wooden hammer, and wooden 
pincers.
"He had scarcely done so before the old woman returned, saying, 'I cannot 
draw water in your bucket. If you will not give me a little of your food to 
taste, let us try our strength against each other.' Then the old woman drew 
forth the coil of rotten cords, and bound Massang with them, but Massang put 
forth his strength and burst the cords asunder. But when Massang had bound 
the old woman with her own coil, and deprived her of all power of motion, 
she said unto him, 'Herein you have gotten the victory; now let us pinch 
each other with the pincers.'
"Whereupon Massang nipped hold of a piece of the old woman's flesh as big as 
one's head, and tore it forcibly from her.  'Indeed, youth,' cried the old
woman, sighing, 'but you have gotten a hand of stone; now let us hammer away 
at each other!'
"So saying, she smote Massang with the wooden hammer on his breast, but the 
hammer flew from the handle, and Massang was left without a wound. Then drew 
Massang the iron hammer out of the fire, and smote the old woman with it in 
such wise that she fled from the hut crying and wounded.
"Shortly after this, the three companions returned home, and said to 
Massang, 'Now, Massang, you have surely had something to suffer?' But 
Massang replied, 'You are all cowardly fellows, and have uttered lies; I 
have paid off the old woman. Arise, and let us follow her!'
	     "At these words they arose, followed her by the traces of her 
blood, and at length reached a gloomy pit in a rock.  At the bottom of this 
pit there were ten double circular pillars, and on the ground lay the corpse 
of the old woman, among gold, brass, and armor, and other costly things.  
'Will you three descend,' said Massang, 'and then pack together the costly 
things, and I will draw them up, or I will pack them, and you shall draw 
them out.' But the three companions said, 'We will not go down into the 
cavern, for of a verity the old woman is a Schumnu' (a witch).  But Massang, 
without being dispirited, allowed himself to be let down into the cavern, 
and collected the valuables, which were then drawn forth by his companions. 
Then
                      his companions spoke with one another; saying, 'If we 
draw forth Massang, he will surely take all these treasures to himself. It 
were better, then, that we should carry away these treasures, and leave 
Massang behind in the cavern!'
"When Massang noticed that his three companions treated him thus 
ungratefully, he looked about the cavern in search of food, but between the 
pillars he found nothing but some pieces of bark. Thereupon Massang planted 
the bark in the earth, nourished it as best he might, and said, 'If I am a 
true Massang, then from this bark let there grow forth three great trees.  
If I am not, then shall I die here in this pit.'
	     "After these enchanting words, he laid himself down, but from 
his having come in contact with the coarse of the old woman, he slept for 
many years. When he awoke, he found three great trees which reached to the 
mouth of the pit. Joyfully clambered he up and betook himself to the hut, 
which was in the neighborhood.  But, because there was no longer any one to 
be found therein, he took his iron bow and his arrows, and set forth in 
search of his companions.  These had built themselves houses and taken 
wives.  'Where are your husbands?' inquired Massang of their wives.  'Our 
husbands are gone to the chase,' replied they. Then Massang took arrow and 
bow, and set forth.  His companions were returning from the chase with 
venison, and when they beheld Massang with arrow and bow, they cried, as 
with one accord, 'You art the well-skilled one! Take our wives and pro-
perty, we will now wander forth further!'  At these words Massang said, 
'Your behavior was certainly not what it should have been; but I am going to 
reward my father-live on, therefore, as before.'
"By the way Massang discovered a brook, and out of the brook arose a 
beautiful maiden.  The maiden went her way, and flowers arose out of her 
footsteps. Massang followed the maiden until he arrived in heaven, and when 
he was come there, Churmusta Tangari (the Protector of the Earth) said unto 
him, 'It is well that you art come hither, Massang. We have daily to fight 
with the host of Schumnu (witches). To-morrow look around; after to-morrow 
be companion unto us.'
"On the following day, when the white host were sore pressed by the black, 
Churmusta spoke unto Massang: 'The white host are the host of the Tangari, 
the black are the host of the Schumnu. To-day the Tangari will be pressed by 
the Schumnu; draw, therefore, your bow, and send an arrow into the eye of 
the leader of the black host.' Then Massang aimed at the eye of the leader 
of the black host, and smote him, so that he fled with a mighty cry. Then 
spoke Churmusta to Massang, "Your deed is deserving of reward; henceforward 
dwell with us
for ever.' But Massang replied, 'I go to reward my father.'
"Hereupon Churmusta presented to Massang, Dschindamani, the wonder-stone of 
the Gods, and said unto him, 'By a narrow circuitous path you will reach the 
cave of the Schumnu.  Go without fear or trembling therein. I(knock at the 
door and say, "I am the human physician." They will then lead thee to the 
Schumnu Chan, that you may draw out the arrow from his eyes; then lay hands 
upon the arrow, scatter seven sorts of grain towards heaven, and drive the 
arrow yet deeper into his head.'
"Thus spoke Churmusta authoritatively, and Massang obeyed his commands; 
reached, without erring, the cavern of the Schumnu, and knocked at the door.  
'What have you learned ?' inquired the woman. 'I am a physician,' answered 
Massang; and he was conducted into the building. He ex-amined the wound of 
the Chan, and laid hands upon the arrow. 'Already,' said the Chan, 'my wound 
feels better.' But Massang suddenly drove the arrow further into the head, 
scattered the seven grains towards heaven, and a chain fell clattering from 
heaven down to earth.
"But while Massang was preparing to lay hands upon the chain, the Schumnu 
woman smote him with an iron hammer with such force, that from the blow 
there sprang forth seven stars."
"Then," said the Son of the Chan, "he was not able to reward his father."
"Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jonkzang." Thus 
spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi's third relation treats of the adventures of Massang.


THE MAGICIAN WITH THE SWINE'S HEAD.

When the Son of the Chan had, as before, seized upon Ssidi, and was carrying 
him away, Ssidi spoke as formerly, but the Son of the Chan shook his head, 
without uttering a word, and Ssidi began the following relation
"A long while since there lived in a happy country a man and a woman. The 
man had many bad qualities, and cared for nothing but eating, drinking, and 
sleeping. At last his wife said unto him, 'By your mode of life you have 
wasted all your inherit-ance. Arise thee, then, from your bed, and while I 
am in the fields, go you out and look about you!'
"As he was looking about him, he saw a multitude of people pass behind the 
pagoda with their herds; and birds, foxes, and dogs crowding and noising 
together around a particular spot' Thither he went, and there found a 
bladder of butter; so he took it home
and placed it upon the shelf.  When his wife returned and saw the bladder of 
butter upon the shelf, she asked, 'Where found you this bladder of butter?' 
To this he replied, 'I did according to your word, and found this.' Then 
said the woman 'You went out but for an instant, and have already found thus 
much'
"Then the man determined to display his abilities, said, 'Procure me then a 
horse, some clothes, and a bloodhound' The wife provided them accordingly; 
and the man taking with him his bow, cap, and mantle, seated himself on 
horseback, led the hound in a leash, and rode forth at random. After he had 
crossed over several rivers he espied a fox. 'Ah,' thought he, 'that would 
serve my wife for a cap.'
"So saying, he pursued the fox, and when it fled into a. hamster's hole, the 
man got off his horse, placed his bow, arrows, and clothes upon the saddle, 
fastened the bloodhound to the. bridle, and covered the mouth of the hole 
with his cap. The next thing he did was to take a large stone, and hammer 
over the hole with it; this frightened the fox, which ran out and fled with 
the cap upon its head. The hound followed the fox, and drew the horse along 
with it, so that they both vanished in an instant, and the man was left 
without any clothes.
After he had turned back a long way, he reached the country of a mighty 
Chan, entered the Chan's
stable, and concealed himself in a stack of hay, so that merely his eyes 
were left uncovered Not long afterwards, the beloved of the Chan was walking 
out, and wishing to look at a favorite horse, she approached close to the 
hayrick, placed the talisman of life of the Chan's kingdom upon the ground, 
left it there, and returned back to the palace without recollecting it. The 
man saw the wonderful stone, but was too lazy to pick it up. At sunset the 
cows came by, and the stone was beaten into the ground. Some time afterwards 
a servant came and cleansed the place, and the wonderful stone was cast 
aside upon a heap.
	     "On the following day the people were informed, by the beating 
of the kettledrums, that the beloved of the Chan had lost the wonderful 
stone. At the same time, all the magicians and soothsayers and interpreters 
of signs were summoned, and questioned upon the subject.  On hearing this, 
the man in the hayrick crept out as far as his breast, and when the people 
thronged around him and asked, ' What have you learned?' he replied, 'I am a 
magician.' On hearing these words they exclaimed, 'Because the wondrous 
stone of the Chan is missing, all the magicians in the country are summoned 
to appear before him. Do you then draw nigh unto the Chan.' The man said, 'I 
have no clothes.' Hereupon the whole crowd hastened to the Chan, and 
announced unto him thus: In the hayrick there lays 
a magician who had no clothes. This magician would draw nigh unto you, but 
he has nought to appear in.' The Chan said, 'Send unto him this robe of 
cloth, and let him approach.' It was done.
	     "The man was fetched, and after he had bowed down to the Chan, 
he was asked what he needed for the performance of his magic charms. To this 
question he replied, 'For the performance of my magic charms, it is needful 
that I should have the head of a swine, some cloths of five colors, and some 
baling' (a sacred figure of dough or paste). When all these things were 
prepared, the magician deposited the swine's head at the foot of a tree, 
dressed it with the cloths of fiv6 colors, fastened on the large baling, and 
passed the whole of three nights in meditation.  On the day appointed, all 
the people assembled, and the magician having put on a great durga (cloak), 
placed himself, with the swine's head in his hand, in the street. When they 
were all assembled together, the magician, showing the swine's head, said, 
'Here not and there not" All were gladdened at hearing these words. 
'Because, therefore,' said the magician, 'the wonderful stone is not to be 
found among the people, we must seek for it elsewhere.'
	     "With these words the magician, still holding the swine's head 
in his hand, drew nigh unto the palace, and the Chan and his attendants 
followed him, singing songs of rejoicing. When, at last, the
magician arrived at the heap, he stood suddenly still, and exclaimed, 'There 
lies the wonderful stone.' Then, first removing some of the earth, he drew 
forth the stone, and cleansed it. 'You art a mighty magician,' joyfully 
exclaimed all who beheld it.  'You art the master of magic with the swine's 
head. Lift up yourself that you may receive your reward.'  The Chan said, 
'Your reward shall be whatsoever you wilt.' The magician, who thought only 
of the property he had lost, said, 'Give unto me a horse, with saddle and 
bridle, a. bow and arrows, a cap, a mantle, a hound, and a fox Such things 
give unto me.'   At these words the Chan exclaimed, 'Give him all that he 
desire.' This was done, and the magician returned home with all that he 
desired, and with two elephants, one carrying meat, and the other butter.
"His wife met him close to his dwelling, with brandy for him to drink, and 
said, 'Now, indeed, you art become a mighty man.' Thereupon they went into 
the house, and when they had laid them-selves down to sleep, the wife said 
to him, 'Where have you found so much flesh and so much butter?' Then her 
husband related to her circumstantially the whole affair, and she answered 
him saying, 'Verily, you art a stupid ass. Tomorrow I will go with a letter 
to the Chan.'
"The wife accordingly wrote a letter, and in the letter were the following 
words: ‘Because it was
known unto me that the lost wondrous stone retained some evil influence over 
the Chan, I have, for the obviating of that influence, desired of him the 
dog and the fox. What I may receive for my reward depends upon the pleasure 
of the Chan.'
"The Chan read the letter through, and sent costly presents to the magician. 
And the magician lived pleasantly and happily.
"Now in a neighboring country there dwelt seven of Chan's brethren.  Once 
upon a time they went, for pastime, to an extensive forest.  There they 
discovered a beauteous maiden with a buffalo, and they asked, 'What are you 
two doing here? From where do you come?' The maiden answered, ' I come from 
an eastern country, and am the daughter of a Chan. This buffalo accompanies 
me.' At these words these others replied, 'We are the seven brethren of a 
Chan, and have no wife. Wilt you be our wife?'1 The maiden answered, ‘ So be 
it.' But the maiden and the buffalo were two Mangusch (a species of evil 
spirit like the Schumnu), and were seeking out men whom they might devour. 
The male Mangusch was a buffalo, and the female, she who became wife to the 
brethren.
     "After the Mangusch had slain, yearly, one of the brethren of the Chan, 
there was only one re-maining.  And because he was suffering from a grievous 
sickness, the ministers consulted together and said, 'For the sickness of 
the other Ohans we have tried all means of cure, and yet have found no help, 
neither do we in this case know what to advise.  But the magician with the 
swine's head dwells only two mountains off from us, and he is held in great 
estimation; let us, without further delay, send for him to our assistance.'
"Upon this four mounted messengers were dispatched for the magician, and 
when they arrived at his dwelling, they made known to him the object of 
their mission. 'I will,' said the magician, 'con-sider of this matter in the 
course of the night, and will tell you in the morning what is to be done.'
"During the night he related to his wife what was required of him, and his 
wife said, 'You are looked upon, up to this time, as a magician of 
extraordinary skill; but from this time there is an end to your reputation.  
However, it cannot be helped, so go you must.'
"On the following morning the magician said to the messengers, 'During the 
nighttime I have pondered upon this matter, and a good omen has presented 
itself to me m a dream.  Let me not tarry any longer but ride forth today.'  
The magician, thereupon, equipped himself in a large cloak, bound his hair 
together on the crown of his head, carried in his left hand the rosary, and 
in his right the swine's had, enveloped in the cloths of five colors.
     "When in this guise he presented himself before the dwelling-place of 
the Chan, the two Mangusch were sorely frightened, and thought to 
themselves,    'This man has quite the appearance, quite the countenance, of 
a man of learning.'  Then the magician, first placing a baling on the pillow 
of the bed, lifted up the swine's head, and muttered certain magic words.
     "The wife of the Chan seeing this discontinued tormenting the soul of 
the Chan, and fled in all haste out of the room. The Chan, by this conduct 
being freed from the pains of sickness, sank into a sound sleep.  'What is 
this?' exclaimed the magi-cian, filled with affright. "The disease has grown 
worse, the sick man uttered not a sound; the sick man has departed.'  Thus 
thinking, he cried, 'Chan, Ohan!' But because the Chan uttered no sound, the 
magician seized the swine's head, vanished through the door, and entered the 
treasure-chamber. No sooner had he done so, than 'Thief, thief!' sounded in 
his ears, and the magician fled into the kitchen; but the cry of 'Stop that 
thief! stop that thief!' still followed him. Thus pursued the magician 
thought to himself, 'This night it is of no use to think of getting away, so 
I will, there-fore, conceal myself in a corner of the stable.' Thus 
thinking, he opened the door, and there found a buffalo, that lay there as 
if wearied with a long journey. The magician took the swine's head, and 
struck the buffalo three times between the horns, whereupon the buffalo 
sprang up and fled like the wind.
     "But the magician followed after the buffalo. When he approached the 
spot where he was, he heard the male Mangusch say to his female companion, 
'Yonder magician knew that I was in the stable; with his frightful swine's 
head he struck me three blows-so that it was time for me to escape from 
him.' And the Chan's wife replied, 'I too am so afraid, because of his great 
knowledge, that I would not willingly return; for, of a cer-tainty, things 
will go badly with us. To-morrow he will gather together the men with 
weapons and arms, and will say unto the women, "Bring hither firing;" when 
this is done he will say, "Lead the buffalo hither." And when you appears, 
he will say unto thee, 'Put off the form you have assumed." And because all 
resistance would be useless, the people perceiving your true shape will fall 
upon thee with swords, and spears, and stones; and when they have put thee 
to death, they will consume thee with fire. At last the magician will cause 
me to be dragged forth and consumed with fire. Oh, but I am sore afraid!'
	     "When the magician heard these words, he said to himself, 
'After this fashion may the thing be easily accomplished.' Upon this he 
betook himself, with the swine's head to the Chan, lifted up the baling, 
murmured his words of magic, and asked, 'How is it now with the sickness of 
the Ohan?' And the Chan replied, 'Upon the arrival of the master of magic 
the sickness passed away, and I have slept soundly.' Then the magician spoke 
as follows: '
	Tomorrow, then, give this command to your ministers, that they 
collect the whole of the people together, and that the women be desired to 
bring firing with them.'
	     "When, in obedience to these directions, there were two lofty 
piles of fagots gathered together, the magician said, 'Place my saddle upon 
the buffalo.' Then the magician rode upon the saddled buffalo three times 
around the assembled people, then removed the saddle from the buffalo, smote 
it three times with the swine's head, and said, 'Put off the form you have 
assumed.'
     "At these words the buffalo was transformed into a fearful ugly 
Mangusch. His eyes were blood-shot, his upper tusks descended to his breast, 
his bottom tusks reached up to his eyelashes, so that he was fearful to 
behold. When the people had hewed this Mangusch to pieces with sword and 
with arrow, with spear and with stone, and his body was consumed upon one of 
the piles of fagots, then said the magician, 'Bring forth the wife of the 
Ohan.' And with loud cries did the wife of the Chan come forth, and the 
magician smote her with the swine's head, and said, 'Appear in your own 
form!'       
     Immediately her long tusks and bloodshot eyes exhibited the terrific 
figure of a female Man-gusch.
"After the wife of the Ohan had been cut in pieces, and consumed by fire, 
the magician mounted his horse.  The people bowed themselves before him, and 
strewed grain over him, presented him with gifts; and regaled him so on 
every side, that he was only enabled to reach the palace of the Ohan on the 
following morning.  Then spoke the Ohan, full of joy, to the magician, 'How 
can I reward you for the great deed that you have done?' And the magician 
answered, 'In our country there are hut few nose-sticks for oxen to be 
found.  Give me, I pray you, some of these nose-sticks.' Thus spoke he, and 
the Chan had him conducted home with three sacks of nose-sticks, and seven 
elephants bearing meat and butter.
	     "Near unto his dwelling his wife came with brandy to meet him; 
and when she beheld the elephants, she exclaimed, 'Now, indeed, you art 
become a mighty man.' Then they betook them-selves to their house, and at 
nighttime the wife of the magician asked him, 'How came you to be presented 
with such gifts?' The magician replied, 'I have cured the sickness of the 
Chan, and con-sumed with fire two Mangusch.' At these words she replied, 
'Verily, you have behaved very fool-ishly. After such a beneficial act, to 
desire nothing but nose-sticks for cattle!  Tomorrow I myself will go to the 
Chan.'
	     "On the morrow the wife drew near unto the Chan, and presented 
unto him a letter from the magician.  In this letter were the following 
Words:' Because the magician was aware that of the great evil of the Ohan a 
lesser evil still re-mained behind, he desired of him the nose-sticks. What 
he is to receive as a reward depends upon the pleasure of the Chan.'
	     "'He is right,' replied the Chan, and he sum-moned the 
magician, with his father and mother, and all his relations before him, and 
received them with every demonstration of honor. 'But for you I should have 
died; the kingdom would have been annihilated; the ministers and all the 
people con-sumed as the food of the Mangusch. I, therefore, will honor 
thee,' and he bestowed upon him proofs of his favor."
     "Both man and wife were intelligent," exclaimed the Son of the Chan.
"Ruler of Destiny," replied Ssidi, "you have spoken words! Swarwala missdood 
jakzang!" Thus spoke he, and burst from the sack through the air.
	Ssidi's fourth relation treats of the Magician with the head of the 
Swine.


THE HISTORY OF SUNSHINE AND HIS    
BROTHER.

	As the Chan's Son was journeying along as before, laden with Ssidi, 
Ssidi inquired of him as formerly who should tell a tale. But the Son of the 
Chan shook his head without speaking a word, and Ssidi began as follows
	     "Many years ago Guchanassehang reigned over a certain happy 
land. This (Chan had a wife and a son, whose name was Sunshine (Narrani 
Garral). Upon the death of his first wife the Chan married a second; and by 
her likewise he had a son, and the name of his second son was Moonshine 
(Ssarrani Garral).  And when both these sons were grown up, the wife of the 
Chan thought to herself, 'So long as Sunshine, the elder brother, lives, 
Moonshine, the younger, will never be Chan over this land.'
	     "Some time after this the wife of the Chan fell sick, and 
tossed and tumbled about on her bed from the seeming agony she endured.  And 
the Chan inquired of her, 'What can be done for you, my noble spouse?' To 
these words the wife of the Chan replied, 'Even at the time I dwelt with my 
parents I was subject to this sickness. But now it is become past bearing. I 
know, indeed, but one way of removing it; and that way is so impracti-cable, 
that there is nothing left for me but to die.' Hereupon spoke the Chan, 
'Tell unto me this way of help, and though it should cost me half my kingdom 
you shall have it. Tell me what you require.'  Thus spoke he, and his wife 
replied with the following words, 'If the heart of one of the Chan's sons 
were roasted in the fat of the Gunsa (a beast); but you wilt not, of course, 
sacrifice Sunshine for this purpose; and I myself bare Moon-shine, his heart 
I will not consume. So that there is now nothing left for me but to die.' 
The Chan replied, 'Of a surety Sunshine is my son, and in-expressibly dear 
unto me; but in order that I may not lose thee, I will to-morrow deliver him 
over to the Jargatschi' (the servants of Justice).
"Moonshine overheard these words and hastened to his brother, and said, 'To-
morrow they will murder thee.' When he had related all the circum-stances, 
the brother replied, 'Since it is so, do you remain at home, honoring your 
father and mother. The time of my flight is come.' Then said Moon-shine with 
a troubled heart, 'Alone I will not re-main, but I will follow thee where 
ever you goes.'
	     "Because the following day was appointed for the murder, the 
two brothers took a sack with baling-cakes from the altar, crept out at 
night, for it was the night of the full moon, from the palace, and journeyed 
on day and night through the moun-tainous country, until they at length 
arrived at the course of a dried-up river. Because their provender was 
finished, and the river afforded no water, Moonshine fell to the earth 
utterly exhausted. Then spoke the elder brother, full of affliction, 'I will 
go and seek water; but do you watch an instant until I come down from the 
high places.'
	     "After some vain attempts Sunshine returned, and found that his 
brother had departed this life. After he had with great tenderness covered 
the body of his brother with stones, he wandered over high mountains, and 
then arrived at the entrance of a cave. Within the cave sat an aged Arschi. 
'Whence comes you?' inquired the old man, 'your countenance betook deep 
affliction.' And when the youth had related all that had passed, the old 
man, taking with him the means of awakening the dead, went with the youth to 
the grave, and called Moonshine back to life. 'Will you be unto me as sons 
?’ Thus spoke the old man, and the two young men became as sons unto him.
	     "Not far from this place there reigned a mighty Chan of fearful 
power; and the time was approach-ing in this country when the fields were 
watered, but the crocodiles prevented this. The crocodiles frequented a 
marsh at the source of the river, and would not allow the water to stream 
forth until such times as a Son of the Tiger-year1 had been offered to them 
as food.  After a time it happened that when search had been made in vain 
for a Son of the Tiger-year, certain people drew nigh unto the Chan, and 
said, 'Near unto the source of the river dwells the old Arschi, and with him 
a Son of the Tiger-year.  Thither led we our cattle to drink, and we saw 
him.'
"When he heard this, the Chan said, 'Go and fetch him.'
"Accordingly the messengers were dispatched for him, and when they arrived 
at the entrance of the cave, the Arsohi himself came forth.  'What is it 
that you seek here?' inquired the aged Arschi. 'The Chan,' replied they; ' 
speak to thee thus:
You have a Son of the Tiger-year. My kingdom has need of him: send him unto 
me.' But the Arschi said, 'Who could have told you so? Who, indeed, would 
dwell with an old Arsdii?'
Thus speaking he retired into his cave, closed the door after him, and 
concealed the youth in a stone chest, placed the lid on him, and cemented up 
the crevices with clay, as if it was from the dis-tillation of arrack.  But 
the messengers having broken down the door, thrust themselves into the cave, 
searched it, and then said, 'Since he whom we sought is not here, we are 
determined that nothing shall be left in the cave.' Thus speaking, they drew 
their swords; and the youth said, out of fear for the Arschi, 'Hurt not my 
father; I am here.'
"And when the youth was come forth, the messengers took him with them; but 
the Arschi they left behind them weeping and sorrowing. When the youth 
entered into the palace of the Chan, the daughter of the Chan beheld him and 
loved him, and encircled his neck with her arms. But the attendants 
addressed the Chan, saying, 'To-day is the day appointed for the casting of 
the Son of the Tiger-year into the waters.' Upon this the Chan said, 'Let 
him then be cast into the waters I' But when they would have led him forth 
for that pur-pose, the daughter of the Chan spoke and said, 'Cast him not 
into the waters, or cast me into the waters with him.'
     "And when the Chan heard these words, he was angered, and said, 
'Because this maiden cares so little for the welfare of the kingdom, over 
which I am Chan, let her be bound fast unto the Son of the Tiger-year, and 
let them be cast together into the waters.' And the attendants said, 'It 
shall be according as you have commanded.'
     "And when the youth was bound fast, and with the maiden cast into the 
waters, he cried out, 'Since I am the Son of the Tiger-year, it is certainly 
lawful for them to cast me into the waters; but why should this charming 
maiden die, who so loves me?' But the maiden said, 'Since I am but an 
unworthy creature, it is certainly lawful for them to cast me into the 
waters; but wherefore do they cast in this beauteous youth?’
     "Now the crocodiles heard these words, felt com-passion, and placed the 
lovers once more upon the shore. And no sooner had this happened than the 
streams began to flow again. And when they were thus saved, the maiden said 
to the youth, 'Come with me, I pray you, into the palace!' and he replied, 
'When I have Bought out my father Arschi, then will I come, and we will live 
together unsevered as man and wife.'
"Accordingly the youth returned to the cave of the old Arschi, and knocked 
at the door. 'I am your son,' said he. 'My son,' replied the old man, 'has 
the Chan taken and slain; therefore it is that I sit here and weep.' At 
these words the son re-plied, 'Of a verity I am your son. The Ohan indeed 
bade them cast me into the waters; but because the crocodiles devoured me 
not, I am returned unto you. Weep not, O my father'
     "Arschi then opened the door, but he had suf-fered his beard and the 
hair of his head to grow, so that he looked like a dead man. Sunshine washed 
him therefore with milk and with water, and aroused him by tender words from 
his great sorrow.
     "Now when the maiden returned back again to the palace, the Chan and 
the whole people were exceedingly amazed.  'The crocodiles,' they ex-
claimed, 'have, contrary to their wont, felt com-passion for this maiden and 
spared her.  This is
indeed a very wonder.' So the whole people passed around the maiden, bowing 
themselves down before her. But the Chan said, 'That the maiden is re-turned 
is indeed very good. But the Son of the Tiger-year is assuredly devoured.' 
At these words his daughter replied unto him, 'The Son of the Tiger- year 
assuredly is not devoured. On account of his goodness his life was spared 
him.'
     "And when she said this, all were more than ever surprised. 'Arise!' 
said the Chan to his ministers, 'lead this youth hither.' Agreeably to these 
com-mands, the ministers hastened to the cave of the aged Arschi. Both 
Arschi and the youth arose, and when they approached unto the dwelling of 
the Chan, the Chan said, 'For the mighty benefits which this youth has 
conferred upon us, and upon our dominions, we feel ourselves bound to go 
forth to meet him.'
     "Thus spoke he, and he went forth to meet the youth, and led him into 
the interior of the palace, and placed him upon one of the seats 
appropriated to the nobles.  'O you most wondrous youth!' he exclaimed, 'art 
you indeed the son of Arschi?' The youth replied, 'I am the Son of a Chan. 
But because my stepmother, out of the love she bare to her own son, sought 
to slay me, I fled, and, accom-panied by my younger brother, arrived at the 
cave of the aged Arschi.'
     "When the Son of the Chan related all this, the
Chan loaded him with honors, and gave his daughters for wives unto the two 
brothers, and sent them, with many costly gifts and a good retiune, home to 
their own kingdom. Thither they went, drew nigh unto the palace, and wrote a 
letter as follows:' To the Chan their father, the two brothers are returned 
back again.
     "Now the father and mother had for many years bewailed the loss of both 
their sons, and their sorrows had rendered them so gloomy that they remained 
ever alone.
     "On receipt of this letter they sent forth a large body of people to 
meet their children. But because the wife of the Chan saw both the youths 
approach-ing with costly gifts and a goodly retinue, so great was her envy 
that she died."
     "She was very justly served!" exclaimed the Son of the Chan.
     "Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala :missdood jonkzang." 
Thus spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi's fifth relation treats of Sunshine and his brother.


THE WONDERFUL MAN WHO OVERCAME THE CHAN.

When the Son of the Chan had proceeded as formerly to seize the dead one, 
then spoke he the
threatening words, seized upon Ssidi, thrust him into the sack, tied the 
sack fast, ate of the butter-cakes, and journeyed forth with his burden. 
After Ssidi had as before asked who should tell the tale, and the Son of the 
Chan had replied by merely shak-ing his head, Ssidi began the following 
relation: 

     "A long, long time ago there lived in the land of
Barschiss, a wild, high-spirited man, who would not allow any one to be 
above him. Then spoke the Chan of the kingdom to him, full of displeasure, 
'Away with thee, you good-for-nothing one I Away with thee to some other 
kingdom!' Thus spoke he, and the wild man departed forth out of the country.
     "On his journey he arrived about mid-day at a forest, where he found 
the body of a horse, which had been somehow killed, and he accordingly cut 
off its head, fastened it to his girdle, and climbed up a tree.
     "About midnight there assembled a host of Tschadkurrs (evil spirits) 
mounted upon horses of bark, wearing likewise caps of bark, and they placed 
themselves around the tree.  Afterwards there assembled together other 
Tschadkurrs, mounted upon horses of paper, and having caps of paper on their 
heads, and they likewise placed themselves around the tree.
     "During the time that those who were assembled were partaking of 
various choice wines and liquors, the man peeped anxiously down from the 
tree, and
	as he was doing so, the horse's head fell down from his belt.  The 
Tschadkurrs were thereby exceed-ingly alarmed; so much that they fled hither 
and thither uttering fearful cries.
	     "On the following morning the man descended from the tree, and 
said, 'This night there was in this spot many choice viands and liquors, and 
now they are all vanished.'  And while he was thus speaking, he found a 
brandy flask, and as he was anxious for something to drink, he immediately 
applied the flask which he had found to his lips; when suddenly there sprang 
out of it meat and cakes and other delicacies fit for eating. 'This flask,' 
cried he, 'is of a surety a wishing flask, which will procure him who has it 
everything he desires. I will take the flask with me.'
     "And when he had thus spoken, he continued his journey until he met 
with a man holding a sword in his hand. 'Wherefore,' cried he, 'does you 
carry that sword in your hand?' And the man answered, 'This sword is called 
Kreischwinger; and when I say to it, "Kreischwinger, thither goes a man who 
has taken such a thing from me, follow him and bring it back," Kreischwinger 
goes forth, kills the man, and brings my property back again.' To this the 
first replied, 'Out of this vessel springs everything you desire; let us 
exchange.'  So accord-ingly they made an exchange; and when the man went 
away with the flask, he who now owned the sword said, 'Kreischwinger, go 
forth now and bring me back my flask.' So the sword went forth, smote his 
former master dead, and brought the golden vessel back again.
	     When he had journeyed a little further, he met a man holding in 
his hand an iron hammer. 'Where-fore,' cried he, 'do you hold this hammer in 
your hand?' To this question the other replied, 'When I strike the earth 
nine times with this hammer, there immediately arises a wall of iron, nine 
pillars high.' Then said the first, 'Let us make an ex-change.' And when the 
exchange was made, he cried out, 'Kreischwinger, go forth and bring me back 
my golden vessel!'
     "After Kreischwinger had slain the man, and brought back the golden 
vessel, the man journeyed on until he encountered another man, carrying in 
his bosom a sack, made of goatskin, and he asked him, 'Wherefore keep you 
that sack?' To this question the other replied, 'This sack is a very 
wonderful thing.  When you shake it, it rains heavily; and if you shake it 
very hard, it rains very heavily.' Hereupon the owner of the flask said 'Let 
us change,' and they changed accordingly; and the sword went forth, slew the 
man, and returned back to its master with the golden vessel.
"When the man found himself in the possession of all these wonderful things, 
he said 'into himself, 'The Chan of my country is indeed a cruel man;
nevertheless I will turn back unto my native land.' When he had thus 
considered, he turned back again, and concealed himself in the neighborhood 
of the royal palace.
     "About midnight he struck the earth nine times with his iron hammer, 
and there arose an iron wall nine pillars high.
     "On the following morning the Chan arose, and said, 'During the night I 
have heard a mighty tock, tock at the back of the palace.' Thereupon the 
wife of the Chan looked out, and said, 'At the back of the palace there 
stands an iron wall nine pillars high.' Thus spoke she; and the Chan 
replied, full of anger, 'The wild, high-spirited man has of a surety erected 
this iron wall; but we shall see whether he or I will be the conqueror.
"When he had spoken these words the Chan commanded all the people to take 
fuel and bellows, and make the iron wall red-hot on every side. Thereupon 
there was an immense fire kindled, and the Wonderful Man found himself, with 
his mother, within the wall of iron.  He was himself upon the upper pillars, 
but his mother was on the eighth. And because the heat first reached the 
mother, she exclaimed unto her son, 'The fires which the Chan has commanded 
the people to kindle will destroy the iron wall, and we shall both die.' The 
son replied, 'Have no fear, mother, for I can find means to prevent it.'
     "When he had spoken these words he shook the sack of goatskin, and 
there descended heavy rain and extinguished the fire.  After that he shook 
the sack still more forcibly, and there arose around them a mighty sea, 
which carried away both the fuel and the bellows which the people had 
collected."
     "Thus, then, the Wonderful gained the mastery over the Chan," exclaimed 
the Son of the Chan.
"Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jakzang!"  Thus 
spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi's sixth relation treats of the Wonderful Man who overpowered the 
Chan.

THE BIRD-MAN.

When the Son of the Chan had done as formerly, spoken the threatening words, 
and carried off Ssidi, Ssidi asked him as before to tell a tale; but the Son 
of the Chan shook his head without speaking a word, and Ssidi began as 
follows
     "In times gone by there lived in a fair country the father of a family, 
whose three daughters had daily by turns to watch over the calves. Now it 
once happened, during the time that the eldest sister should have been 
watching the calves, that she fell asleep, and one of them was lost.  When 
the maiden awoke and missed the calf, she arose and went forth to seek it, 
and wandered about until she reached a large house with a red door.
     "She went in, and then came to a golden door, next to that to a silver 
one, and last of all to a brazen door.  After she had likewise opened this 
door she found, close to the entrance of it, a cage decorated with gold and 
all manner of costly jewels, and within it, on a perch, there stood a white 
bird.
"'I have lost a calf,' sai4 the maiden, 'and am come hither to seek it.' At 
these words the bird said, 'If you wilt become my wife I will find the calf 
for you, but not without.' But the maiden said, 'That may not be; among men 
birds are looked upon but as wild creatures.  Therefore I will not become 
your wife, even though, through refusing, I lose the calf for ever.' And 
when she had thus spoken she returned home again.
     "On the following day the second sister went forth to tend the calves, 
and she likewise lost one of them.  And it happened unto her as it had done 
unto the eldest sister, and she too refused to become the wife of the bird.
     "At last the youngest sister went forth with the calves, and when she 
missed one she too wandered on until she reached the house wherein the bird 
resided. The bird said unto her likewise, 'If you wilt become my wife, I 
will procure for thee the calf which you have lost.'  'Be it according to 
your will.' Thus spoke she, and became the wife of the bird.
"After some time it happened that a mighty thirteen days' feast was held at 
a large pagoda in the neighborhood, and upon this occasion a number of 
persons assembled together, amongst the rest the wife of the bird.  And she 
was the foremost among the women; but among the men the most noticed was an 
armed man, who rode upon a white horse three times round the assemblage.  
And all who saw him exclaimed, 'He is the first.'
     "And when the woman returned home again the white bird demanded of her, 
'Who were the fore-most among the men and the women who were there assembled 
together?' Then said the woman,        
'The foremost among the men was seated upon a white horse, but I knew him 
not.  The foremost of the women was myself.'
     "And for eleven days did these things so fall out. But on the twelfth 
day, when the wife of the bird went to the assemblage, she sat herself down 
near an old woman.  ' Who,' said the old woman, 'is the first in the 
assemblage this day?'  To this question the wife of the bird replied, 'Among 
the men, the rider upon the white horse is beyond all comparison the 
foremost.  Among the women, I myself am so.  Would that I were bound unto 
this man, for my husband is numbered among wild creatures since he is 
nothing but a bird.'
     "Thus spoke she, weeping, and the old woman replied as follows: 'Speak 
you no more words like unto these.  Amongst the assembled women you art in 
all things the foremost.  But the rider upon the white horse is your own 
husband.  Tomorrow is the thirteenth day of the feast.  Come not to-morrow 
unto the feast, but remain at home behind the door until your husband opens 
his birdhouse, takes his steed from the stable, and rides to the feast.  
Take you, then, the open birdhouse and burn
	it.  And when you have done this your husband will remain henceforth 
and for ever in his true form.'
     "The wife of the bird, thereupon, did as she had been told; and when 
the birdhouse was opened, and her husband had departed, she took the 
birdhouse and burnt it upon the hearth.  When the sun bowed down towards the 
west the bird returned home, and said to his wife, 'What, art you already 
returned?' and she said, 'I am already returned.' Then said her husband,' 
Where is my birdhouse?' And the wife replied, 'I have burnt it.' And he 
said, 'Barama, that is a pretty business-that bird-house was my soul.'
     "And his wife was troubled, and said, 'What is now to be done?'  To 
these words the bird replied, 'There is nothing can be done now, except you 
seat yourself behind the door, and there by day and night keep clattering a 
sword.  But if the clatter-ing sword ceases, the Tschadkurrs will carry me 
away. Seven days and seven nights must you thus defend me from the 
Tschadkurrs and from the Tangari
     "At these words the wife took the sword, propped open her eyelids with 
little sticks, and watched for the space of six nights.  On the seventh 
night her eyelids closed for an instant, but in that instant the Tschadkurrs 
and Tangari suddenly snatched her husband away.
     "Weeping bitterly, and despising all nourish-ment, the distracted wife 
ran about everywhere, crying unceasingly, 'Alas, my bird-husband! Alas, my 
bird-husband!'
     "When she had sought for him day and night without finding him, she 
heard from the top of a mountain the voice of her husband.  Following the 
sound, she discovered that the voice proceeded from the river.  She ran to 
the river, and then discovered her husband with a load of tattered boots 
upon his back.  'Oh I my heart is greatly rejoiced,' said the husband, 'at 
seeing thee once more.  I am forced to draw water for the Tschadkurrs and 
the Tangari, and have worn out all these boots in doing so.  If you wish to 
have me once again, build me a new birdhouse, and dedicate it to my soul; 
then I shall come back again.'
     "With these words he vanished into the air. But the woman betook 
herself home to the house again, made a new birdhouse, and dedicated it to 
the soul of her husband. At length the bird-man appeared and perched himself 
on the roof of the house."
"Truly, his wife was an excellent wife!" exclaimed the Son of the Chan.
	     "Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood 
jakzang!'  Thus spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
     Thus Ssidi's seventh relation treats of the Bird-man.


THE PAINTER ND THE WOODCARVER.

When the Son of the Chan had, as on all the former occasions, spoken the 
words of threatening, placed the dead one in the sack, and journeyed forth 
with him, Ssidi spoke this time also as follows
	     'The day is long, and the distant journey will tire us: do you 
relate a tale unto me, or t will relate one unto you." But the Son of the 
Chan shook his head without saying a word, and Ssidi began as follows
     "Many years ago there lived in the land of Gujassmunn a Chan, whose 
name was Gunisschang. This Chan, however, died, and his son Chamuk 
Sakiktschi was elected Chan in his place.  Now there lived among the people 
of that country a painter and a wood-carver, who bore similar names, and 
were evilly disposed towards each other.
     "Once upon a time the painter, Gunga, drew nigh unto the Chan, and said 
unto him, 'Your father has been borne into the kingdom of the Tangari, and 
has said unto me, "Come unto me!" Thither I went, and found your father in 
great power and splendor; and I have brought for you this letter from him.'  
With these words the painter delivered unto the Chan a forged letter, the 
contents of which were as follows
     "'This letter is addressed to my son Chamuk Sakiktschi.
	     When I departed this life, I was borne to the kingdom of the 
Tangari  An abundance of all things reigns in this land; but since I am 
desirous of erecting a pagoda, and there are no wood-carvers to be found 
here, do you dispatch unto me Cunga, the wood-carver.  The means by which he 
is to reach this place he may learn from the painter.'
     "After he had perused this letter, the Chan of Gujassmunn said, 'If my 
father has really been carried into the realms of the Tangari that would 
indeed be a good thing.  Call hither the wood-carver' The wood-carver was 
called, and appeared before the Ch an, and the Chan said unto him, 'My 
father has been carried into the realms of the Tangari.  He is desirous of 
erecting a pagoda, and because there are no wood-carvers there he is 
desirous that you should be dispatched unto him.'
     "With these words the Chan displayed the forged letter, and when he had 
read it, the wood-carver said unto himself, 'Of a surety Gunga, the painter, 
has played me this trick; but I will try if I cannot overreach him.'
     "Thus thinking, he inquired of the painter, 'By
what means can I reach the kingdom of the Tangari?’
     "To these words the painter replied, 'When you have prepared all your 
tools and implements of trade, then place yourself upon a pile of fagots, 
and when you have sung songs of rejoicing and set light to the pile of 
fagots, thus wilt you be able to reach the kingdom of the Tangari.  Thus 
spoke he, and the seventh night from that time was appointed for the 
carver's setting forth on his journey.
     "When the woodcarver returned home unto his wife, he spoke unto her 
these words :-' The painter has conceived wickedness in his mind against me; 
yet I shall try means to overreach him.'
"Accordingly he secretly contrived a subterranean passage, which reached 
from his own house into the middle of his field.  Over the aperture in the 
field he placed a large stone, covered the stone with earth, and when the 
seventh night was come, the Chan said, 'This night let the wood-carver draw 
nigh unto the Chan, my father.'  Thereupon, agree-ably to the commands of 
the Chan, every one of the people brought out a handful of the fat of the 
Gunsa (a beast).  A huge fire was kindled, and the woodcutter, when he had 
sung the songs of rejoic-ing, escaped by the covered way he had made back to 
his own house.
     "Meanwhile the painter was greatly rejoiced, and pointed upwards with 
his finger, and said, 'There
    	rides the wood-carver up to heaven.' All who had been present, too, 
betook themselves home, thinking in their hearts, 'The wood-carver is dead, 
and gone up above to the Chan.'
     "The wood-carver remained concealed at home a whole month, and allowed 
no man to set eyes upon him, but washed his head in milk every day, and kept 
himself always in the shade. After that he put on a garment of white silk, 
and wrote a letter, in which stood the following words
     "'This letter is addressed to my son Chamuk Sakiktschi.  That you ruled 
the kingdom in peace; it is very good.  Since your wood-carver has completed 
his work, it is needful that he should be rewarded according to his deserts.  
Since, more-over, for the decoration of the pagoda, many colored paintings 
are necessary, send unto me the painter, as you have already sent this man.'
     "The wood-carver then drew nigh unto the Chan with this letter.  
'What!' cried the Chan, 'art you returned from the kingdom of the Tangari?' 
The wood-carver handed the letter unto him, and said, 'I have, indeed, been 
in the kingdom of the Tangari and from it I am returned home again.'
     "The Chan was grea4y rejoiced when he heard this, and rewarded the 
wood-carver with costly presents.  'Because the painter is now required,' 
said the Chan, 'for the painting of the pagoda, let him now be called before 
me.
	     “The painter drew nigh accordingly, and when he saw the wood-
carver, fair, and in white-shining robes, and decorated with gifts, he said 
unto him-self, 'Then he is not dead!' And the Chan handed over to the 
painter the forged letter, with the seal thereto, and said, 'You must go 
now.'
     "And when the seventh night from that time arrived, the people came 
forward as before with a contribution of the fat of the Gunsa; and in the 
midst of the field a pile of fagots was kindled. The painter seated himself 
in the midst of the fire, with his materials for painting, and a letter and 
gifts of honor for the Chan, Gunisschang, and sang songs of rejoicing; and 
as the fire kept growing more and more intolerable, he lifted up his voice 
and uttered piercing cries; but the noise of the instruments overpowered his 
voice, and at length the fire consumed him."
     "He was properly rewarded!" exclaimed the Son of the Chan.
     "Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jakzang!"  
Thus spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi's eighth relation treats of the Painter and the Wood-carver.

	THE STEALING OF THE HEART.

When the Son of the Chan was, as formerly, carrying Ssidi away in the sack, 
Ssidi inquired of
him as before; but the Son of the Chan shook his head without speaking a 
word, so Ssidi proceeded as follows
     "Many, many years ago there ruled over a cer-tain kingdom a Chan named 
Guguluktschl.  Upon the death of this Chan his son, who was of great 
reputation and worth, was elected Chan in his place.
One berren (a measure of distance) from -the residence of the Chan dwelt a 
man, who had a daughter of wonderful abilities and extraordinary beauty. The 
son of the Chan was enamoured of this maiden, and visited her daily; until, 
at length, he fell sick of a grievous malady, and died, without the maiden 
being made aware of it.
     "One night, just as the moon was rising, the maiden heard a knocking at 
the door. The face of the maiden was gladdened when she beheld the son of 
the Chan; and the maiden arose and went to meet him, and she led him in and 
placed arrack and cakes before him. 'Wife,' said the son of the Chan, 'come 
with me!'
     "The maiden followed, and they kept going further and further? Until 
they arrived at the dwelling of the Chan, from which proceeded the sound of 
cymbals and kettledrums.
     "'Chan, what is this?' she asked. The son of the Chan replied to these 
inquiries of the maiden, “Do you not know that they are now celebrating the 
feast of my funeral?' Thus spoke he; and the maiden replied, 'The feast of 
your funeral!  Has anything then befallen the Chan's son?' And the son of 
the Chan replied, 'He is departed.  You wilt, however, bear a son unto him.  
And when the season is come, go into the stable of the elephant, and let him 
be born there.  In the palace there will arise a contention betwixt my 
mother and her attendants, because of the wonderful stone of the kingdom.   
The wonderful stone lies under the table of sacrifice.  After it has been 
discovered, do you and my mother reign over this kingdom until such time as 
my son comes of age.'
     "Thus spoke he, and vanished into air. But his beloved fell, from very 
anguish, into a swoon. 'Chan! Chan!' exclaimed she sorrowfully, when she 
came to herself again. And because she felt that the time was come, she 
betook herself to the stable of the elephants, and there gave birth to a 
son.
     "On the following morning, when the keeper of the elephants entered the 
stable, he exclaimed, 'What I has a woman given birth t6 a son in the stable 
of the elephants (' This never happened before.  This may be an injury to 
the elephants.'
     "At these words the maiden said, 'Go unto the mother of the Chan, and 
say unto he; "Arise! something wonderful has taken place."'
     "When these words were told unto the mother of the Chan, then she arose 
and went unto the stable,
	and the maiden related unto her all that had happened.  'Wonderful!' 
said the mother of the Chan. 'Otherwise the Chan had left n6 successors. Let 
us go together into the house.'
     "Thus speaking, she took the maiden with her into the house, and nursed 
her, and tended her carefully.  And because her account of the wonderful 
stone was found correct, all the rest of her story was believed.  So the 
mother of the Chan and his wife ruled over the kingdom.
     "Henceforth, too, it happened that every month, on the night of the 
full moon, the deceased Chan appeared to his wife, remained with her until 
morning dawned, and then vanished into air.  And the wife recounted this to 
his mother, but his mother believed her not, and said, 'This is a mere 
invention. If it were true my son would, of a surety, show himself likewise 
unto me.  If I am to believe your words, you must take care that mother and 
son meet one another.'
     "When the son of the Chan came on the night of the full moon, his wife 
said unto him, 'It is well that you comes unto me on the night of every full 
moon, but it were yet better if you came every night.'  And as she spoke 
thus, with tears in her eyes, the son of the Chan replied, 'If you had 
sufficient spirit to dare its accomplishment, you might do what would bring 
me every night; but you art young and cannot do it.'  'Then,' said she, 'if 
you wilt but come every night, I will do all that is required of me, 
although I should thereby lose both flesh and bone.'
     "Thereupon the son of the Chan spoke as follows: Then betake yourself 
on the night of the full moon a berren from this place to the iron old man, 
and give unto him arrack.  A little further you will come unto two rams, to 
them you must offer batschimak cakes.  A little further on you will perceive 
a host of men in coats of mail and other armor, and there you must share out 
meat and cakes. From thence you must proceed to a large black building, 
stained with blood; the skin of a man floats over it instead of a flag.  Two 
aerliks (fiends) stand at the entrance.  Present unto them both offerings of 
blood.  Within the mansion you wilt discover nine fearful exorcists, and 
nine hearts upon a throne.  "Take me! Take me!" will the eight old hearts 
exclaim; and the ninth heart will cry out,   "Do not take me!" But leave the 
old hearts and take the fresh one, and run home with it without looking 
round.'
     "Much as the maiden was alarmed at the task which she had been enjoined 
to perform, she set forth on the night of the next full moon, divided the 
offerings, and entered the house.  'Take me not!' exclaimed the fresh heart; 
but the maiden seized the fresh heart and fled with it. The exorcists fled 
after her, and cried out to those who were watching, 'Stop the thief of the 
heart!' And the two aerlic (fiends) cried, 'We have received offerings of 
blood!' Then each of the armed men cried out, Stop the thief! ' But the rams 
said, 'We have received batschimak cakes.' Then they called out to the iron 
old man, 'Stop the thief with the heart!' But the old man said, ' I have 
received arrack from her, and shall not stop her.'
     "Thereupon the maiden journeyed on without fear until she reached home; 
and she found upon entering the house the Chan's son, attired in festive 
garments. And the Chan's son drew nigh, and threw his arms about the neck of 
the maiden."
     "The maiden behaved well indeed!" exclaimed the Son of the Chan.
     "Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jakzang."  
Thus spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
     Thus Ssidi's ninth relation treats of the Stealing of the Heart.

THE MAN AND HIS WIFE

When Ssidi had been captured as before, and was being carried away in the 
sack, he inquired, as he had always done, as to telling a tale; but the Son 
of the Chan shook his head without speaking a word. Whereupon Ssidi began 
the following rela-tion
     "Many, many years since, there lived in the kingdom of Olmilsong two 
brothers, and they were both married.  Now the elder brother and his wife 
were niggardly and envious, while the younger brother was of quite a 
different disposition.
     "Once upon a time the elder brother, who had contrived to gather 
together abundance of riches, gave a great feast, and invited many people to 
partake of it. When this was known, the younger thought to himself, 
'Although my elder brother has hitherto not treated me very well, yet he 
will now, no doubt, since he has invited so many people to his feast, invite 
also me and my wife.'  This he certainly expected, but yet he was not 
invited.  'Probably,' thought he, 'my brother will summon me to-morrow 
morning to the brandy-drinking.' Because, 
however, he was not even invited unto that, he grieved very sore, and said 
unto himself, 'This night, when my brother's wife has drunk the brandy, I 
will go unto the house and steal somewhat.'
     "When, however, he had glided into the treasure-chamber of his brother, 
there lay the wife of his brother near her husband; but presently she arose 
and went into the kitchen, and cooked meat and' sweet food, and went out of 
the door with it.  The concealed one did not venture at this moment to steal 
anything, but said unto himself, 'Before I steal anything, I will just see 
what all this means.'
	     So saying, he went forth and followed the
	woman to a mountain where the dead were wont to be laid.  On the 
top, upon a green mound, lay a beautiful ornamental tomb over the body of a 
dead man.  This man had formerly been the lover of the woman.  Even when 
afar off she called unto the dead man by name, and when she had come unto 
him she threw her arms about his neck; and the younger brother was nigh unto 
her, and saw all that she did.
     "The woman next handed the sweet food which she had prepared to the 
dead man, and because the teeth of the corse did not open, she separated 
them with a pair of brazen pincers, and pushed the food into his mouth. 
Suddenly the pincers bounced back from the teeth of the dead man, and 
snapped off the tip of the woman's nose; while, at the same time, the teeth 
of the dead man closed together and bit off the end of the woman's tongue.  
Upon this the woman took up the dish with the food and went back to her 
home.
     "The younger brother thereupon followed her home, and concealed himself 
in the treasure-cham-ber, and the wife laid herself down again by her 
husband.  Presently the man began to move, when the wife immediately cried 
out, 'Woe is me! Woe is me! Was there ever such a man?' And the man said, 
'What is the matter now?'  The wife replied, 'The point of my tongue, and 
the tip of my nose, both these you have bitten off. What can a woman
do without these two things ? To-morrow the Chan shall be made acquainted 
with this conduct' Thus spoke she, and the younger brother fled from the 
treasure-chamber without stealing anything.
     "On the following morning the woman presented herself before the Chan, 
and addressed him, saying, 'My husband has this night treated me shamefully. 
Whatsoever punishment may be awarded to him, I myself will see it 
inflicted.'
     "But the husband persisted in asserting, 'Of all this I know nothing I' 
Because the complaint of the wife seemed well-founded, and the man could not 
exculpate himself, the Chan said, 'Because of his evil deeds, let this man 
be burnt."
      "When the younger brother heard what had befallen the elder, he went 
to see him.  And after the younger one had related to him all the affair, he 
betook himself unto the Chan, saying, 'That the evil-doer may be really 
discovered, let both the woman and her husband be summoned before you; I 
will clear up the mystery.'
     "When they were both present, the younger brother related the wife's 
visit to the dead man, and because the Chan would not give credence unto his 
story, he said: 'In the mouth of the dead man you will find the end of the 
woman's tongue; and the blood-soiled tip of her nose you will find in the 
pincers of brass.  Send thither, and see if it be not so. "Thus spoke he, 
and people were sent to the place, and confirmed all that lie had asserted. 
Upon this the Chan said, 'Since the matter stands thus, let the woman be 
placed upon the pile of fagots and consumed with fire.'  And the woman was 
placed upon the pile of fagots and consumed with fire."
     "That served her right!" said the Son of the Chan. "Ruler of Destiny, 
you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jakzang!" Thus spoke Ssidi, and 
burst from the sack through the air.
     Thus Ssidi's tenth relation treats of the Man and his Wife.


	OF THE MAIDEN SSUWARANDARL

When the Son of the Chan was carrying off Ssidi, as formerly, Ssidi related 
the following tale
     "A long while ago, there was in the very center of a certain kingdom an 
old pagoda, in which stood the image of Chosohim Bodissadoh (a Mongolian 
idol), formed of clay.  Near unto this pagoda stood a small house, in which 
a beautiful maiden resided with her aged parents. But at the mouth of the 
river, which ran thereby, dwelt a poor man, who maintained himself by 
selling fruit, which he carried in an ark upon the river.
     "Now it happened once, that as he was returning
	home he was benighted in the neighborhood of the pagoda.  He 
listened at the door of the house in which the two old people dwelt, and 
heard the old woman say unto her husband, 'We are both grown exceedingly 
old; could we now but provide for our daughter, it would be well.'
     "'That we have lived so long happily together, said the old man, 'we 
are indebted to the talisman of our daughter. Let us, however, offer up 
sacrifice to Bodissadoh, and inquire of him to what condition we shall 
dedicate our daughter-to the spiritual or to the worldly.  Tomorrow, at the 
earliest dawn, we will therefore lay our offering before the Burchan.'
	     'Now know I what to do,' said the listener; so in the nighttime 
he betook himself to the pagoda, made an opening in the back of the idol, 
and con-cealed himself therein.  When on the following morning the two old 
people and the daughter drew nigh and made their offering, the father bowed 
him-self to the earth and spoke as follows: "'Deified Bodissadoh! Shall this 
maiden be de-voted to a spiritual or worldly life?  If she is to be devoted 
to a worldly life, vouchsafe to point out now or hereafter, in a dream or 
vision, to whom we shall give her to wife.'
     "Then he who was concealed in the image ex-claimed, 'It is better that 
your daughter be devoted to a worldly life. Therefore, give her to wife to 
the
first man who presents himself at your door in the morning.'
     "The old people were greatly rejoiced when they heard these words; and 
they bowed themselves again and again down to the earth, and walked around 
the idol.
     "On the following morning the man stepped out of the idol and knocked 
at the door of the aged couple. The old woman went out, and when she saw 
that it was a man, she turned hack again, and said to her husband, 'The 
words of the Burchan are fulfilled; the man has arrived.'
     "'Give him entrance!' said the old man.  The man came in accordingly, 
and was welcomed with food and drink; and when they had told him all that 
the idol had said, he took the maiden with the talisman to wife.
     "When he was wandering forth and drew nigh unto his dwelling, he 
thought unto himself, 'I have with cunning obtained the daughter of the two 
old people.  Now I will place the maiden in the ark, and conceal the ark in 
the sand.'
     "So he concealed the ark, and went and said unto the people, 'Though I 
have ever acted pro-perly, still it has never availed me yet.  I will 
therefore now seek to obtain liberal gifts through my prayers.' Thus spoke 
he, and after repeating the Zoka-prayers (part of the Calmuc ritual), he 
obtained food and gifts, and said, 'Tomorrow I will again wander around, 
repeat the appointed Zoka-prayers, and seek food again.'
     "In the meanwhile it happened that the son of the Chan and two of his 
companions, with bows and arrows in their hands, who were following a tiger, 
passed by unnoticed, and arrived at the sand-heap of the maiden 
Ssuwarandari.  'Let us shoot at that heap!' cried they.  Thus spoke they, 
and shot accordingly, and lost their arrows in the sand.  As they were 
looking after the arrows, they found the ark, opened it, and drew out the 
maiden with the talisman.
     "'Who art you, maiden (" inquired they.  'I am the daughter of Lu.'  
The Chan's son said, 'Come with me, and be my wife.' And the maiden said, 'I 
cannot go unless another is placed in the ark instead of me.'  So they all 
said, 'Let us put in the tiger.' And when the tiger was placed in the ark, 
the Chan's son took away with him the maiden, and the talisman with her.
     "In the meanwhile the beggar ended his prayers; and when he had done 
so, he thought unto himself, If I take the talisman, slay the maiden, and 
sell the talisman, of a surety I shall become rich indeed.' Thus thinking he 
drew nigh unto the sand-heap, drew forth the ark, carried it home with him, 
and said unto his wife, who he thought was within the ark, 'I shall pass 
this night in repeating the 
Zoka-prayers.' He threw off his upper garment.  And when he had done so, he 
lifted off the cover of the ark, and said, 'Maiden, be not alarmed!' When he 
was thus speaking, he beheld the tiger.
     "When some persons went into the chamber on the following morning, they 
found a tiger with his tusks and claws covered with blood, and the body of 
the beggar torn into pieces.
     "And the wife of the Chan gave birth to three sons, and lived in the 
enjoyment of plenty of all things.  But the ministers and the people mur-
mured, and said, 'It was not well of the Chan that he drew forth his wife 
out of the earth. Al-though the wife of the Chan has given birth to the sons 
of the Chan, still she is but a low-born creature.' Thus spoke they, and the 
wife of the Chan received little joy therefrom.  'I have borne three sons,' 
said she, 'and yet am no way regarded; I will therefore return home to my 
parents.'
     "She left the palace on the night of the full moon, and reached the 
neighborhood of her parents at noontide. Where there had formerly been no-
thing to be seen she saw a multitude of workmen busily employed, and among 
them a man having authority, who prepared meat and drink for them.    'Who 
art you, maiden '?' inquired this man.  'I come far from hence,' replied the 
wife of the Chan; 'but my parents formerly resided upon this moun-tain, and 
I have come hither to seek them.'
     "At these words the young man said, 'You art
	then their daughter ?' and he received for answer, 'I am their 
daughter.'
	     I am their son,' said he.  'I have been told that I had a 
sister older than myself. Art you she?  Sit thee down, partake of this meat 
and this drink, and we will then go together unto our parents.'
     "When the wife of the Chan arrived at the summit of the mountain, she 
found in the place where the old pagoda stood a number of splendid 
buildings, with golden towers full of bells.  And the hut of her parents was 
changed into a lordly mansion.  'All this,' said her brother, 'belongs to 
us, since you took your departure.  Our parents lived here in health and 
peace.
     "In the palace there were horses and mules, and costly furniture in 
abundance.  The father and mother were seated on rich pillows of silk, and 
gave their daughter welcome, saying, 'You art still well and happy. That you 
have returned home before we depart from this life is of a surety very 
good.'
     "After various inquiries had been made on both sides, relative to what 
had transpired during the separation of the parties, the old parents said, 
'Let us make these things known unto the Chan and his ministers.'
     "So the Chan and his ministers were loaded with presents, and three 
nights afterwards they were welcomed with meat and drink of the best.  But
	the Chan said, 'You have spoken falsely, the wife of the Chan had no 
parents.'  Now the Chan departed with his retinue, and his wife said, 'I 
will stop one more night with my parents, and then I will return unto you.'
	     On the following morning the wife of the Chan found herself on 
a hard bed, without pillows or coverlets.  'What is this? Exclaimed she; 
'was I not this night with my father and mother-and did I not retire to 
sleep on a bed of silk?'
     "And when she rose up she beheld the ruined hut of her parents.  Her 
father and mother were dead, and their bones moldered; their heads lay upon 
a stone.  Weeping loudly, she said unto her-self, 'I will now look after the 
pagoda.' But she saw nothing but the ruins of the pagoda and of the Burchan. 
'A godly providence,' exclaimed she, 'has resuscitated my parents.  Now 
since the Chan and the ministers will be pacified, I will return home 
again.'
     On her arrival in the kingdom of her husband, the ministers and the 
people came forth to meet her, and walked around her.  'This wife of the 
Chan,' cried they, 'is descended from noble parents3 has borne noble sons, 
and is herself welcome, pleasant, and charming.'  Thus speaking, they 
accompanied the wife of the Chan to the palace."
     "Her merits must have been great."  Thus spoke the Son of the Chan.
"Ruler of Destiny, you have spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jakzang!' Thus 
spoke Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi's eleventh relation treats of the Maiden Ssuwarandarl

THE TWO CATS.

	IN former days there was an old woman, who lived in a hut more 
confined than the minds of the igno-rant, and more dark than the tombs of 
misers. Her companion was a cat, from the mirror of whose imagination the 
appearance of bread had never been reflected, nor had she from friends or 
strangers ever heard its name.  It was enough that she now and then scented 
a mouse, or observed the print of its feet on the floor; when, blessed by 
favoring stars or benignant fortune, one fell into her claws-
	     "She became like a beggar who discovers a treasure of gold;
     Her cheeks glowed with rapture, and past grief was consumed by present 
joy."
This feast would last for a week or more; and while enjoying it she was wont 
to exclaim-
"Am I, O God, when I contemplate this, in a dream or awake?
     Am I to experience such prosperity after such ad-versity?"
But as the dwelling of the old woman was in general the mansion of famine to 
this cat, she was
always complaining, and forming extravagant and fanciful schemes. One day, 
when reduced to extreme weakness, with much exertion she reached the top of 
the hut.  When there she observed a cat stalking on the wall of a neighbor’s 
house, which, like a fierce tiger, advanced with measured steps, and was so 
loaded with flesh that she could hardly raise her feet. The old woman's 
friend was amazed to see one of her own species so fat and sleek, and broke 
out into the following exclamation:

     Your stately strides have brought you here at last; pray tell me from 
whence you come? 
     From whence have you arrived with so lovely an appear-ance?
     You look as if from the banquet of the Khan of Khatai. 
     Where have you acquired such a comeliness? And how came you by that 
glorious strength?"
The other answered, "I am the Sultan's crumb-eater.  Each morning, when they 
spread the con-vivial table, I attend at the palace, and there exhibit my 
address and courage.  From among the rich meats and wheat-cakes I cull a few 
choice morsels; I then retire and pass my time till next day in delightful 
indolence."
	     The old dame's cat requested to know what rich meat was, and 
what taste wheat-cakes had. "As for me," she added, in a melancholy tone, 
"during my life I have neither eaten nor seen anything but the old woman's 
gruel and the flesh of mice."  The other, smiling, said, "This accounts for 
the difficulty
	I find in distinguishing you from a spider. Your shape and stature 
is such as must make the whole generation of cats blush; and we must ever 
feel ashamed while you carry so miserable an appearance abroad.

You certainly have the ears and tail of a cat,
But in other respects you are a complete spider.

Were you to see the Sultan's palace, and to smell his delicious viands, most 
undoubtedly those withered bones would be restored; you would re-ceive new 
life; you would come from behind the curtain of invisibility into the plane 
of observation-

When the perfume of his beloved passes over the tomb of a lover,
Is it wonderful that his putrid bones should be re-ani-mated?"

     The old woman's cat addressed the other in the most supplicating 
manner: "O my sister!" she exclaimed, "have I not the sacred claims of a 
neighbor upon you? Are we not linked in the ties of kindred? What prevents 
your giving a proof of friendship, by taking me with you when next you visit 
the palace? Perhaps from your favor plenty may flow to me, and from your 
patronage I may attain dignity and honor.

Withdraw not from the friendship of the honorable; Abandon not the support 
of the elect."


     The heart of the Sultan's crumb-eater was melted
by this pathetic address; she promised her new friend should accompany her 
on the next visit to the palace. The latter, overjoyed, went down imme-
diately from the terrace, and communicated every particular to the old 
woman, who addressed her with the following counsel:
	     "Be not deceived, my dearest friend, with the worldly language 
you have listened to. Abandon not your corner of content, for the cup of the 
cove-tous is only to be filled by the dust of the grave, and the eye of 
cupidity and hope can only be closed by the needle of mortality and the 
thread of fate.


It is content that makes men rich;
Mark this, you avaricious, who traverse the world:
He neither knows nor pays adoration to his God
Who is dissatisfied with his condition and fortune."

	     But the expected feast had taken such possession of poor puss's 
imagination, that the medicinal counsel of the old woman was thrown away.

"The good advice of all the world is like wind in a cage, Or water in a 
sieve, when bestowed on the headstrong."

	     To conclude: next day, accompanied by her com-panion, the half-
starved cat hobbled to the Sultan's palace.  Before this unfortunate wretch 
came, as it is decreed that the covetous shall be disappointed, an 
extraordinary event had occurred, and, owing to her evil destiny, the water 
of disappointment was poured on the flame of her immature ambition. The case 
was this: a whole legion of cats had the day before surrounded the feast, 
and made so much noise that they disturbed the guests.  In consequence the 
Sultan had ordered that some archers armed with bows from Tartary should, on 
this day, be concealed, and that whatever cat advanced into the field of 
valor, covered with the shield of auda-city, should, on eating the first 
morsel, be overtaken with their arrows.  The old dame's puss was not aware 
of this order. The moment the flavor of the viands reached her, she flew 
like an eagle to the place of her prey.
Scarcely had the weight of a mouthful been placed in the scale to balance 
her hunger, when a heart-dividing arrow pierced her breast.
	
   	A stream of blood rushed from the wound.
	She fled, the dread of death, after having exclaimed,
	"Should I escape from this terrific archer,
	I won't be satisfied with my mouse and the miserable hut of my old 
mistress.
	My soul rejects the honey if accompanied by the sting.
	Content, with the most frugal fare, is preferable"

LEGEND OF DHURRUMNATH.

DURING the reign of a mighty rajah named Guddeh Sing, a celebrated deified 
priest, or hutteet, called Dhurrumnath, came, and in all the characteristic 
humility of his sect estab-lished a primitive and temporary resting-place 
within a few miles of the rajah's residence at Runn, near Mandavie.  He was 
accompanied by his adopted son, Ghurreeb Nath.
From this spot Dhurrumnath dispatched his son to seek for charitable 
contributions from the in-habitants of the town.  To this end Ghurreeb Nath 
made several visits; but being unsuccessful, and at the same time unwilling 
that his father should know of the want of liherality in the city, he at 
each visit purchased food out of some limited funds of his own. At length, 
his little hoard failing, on the sixth day he was obliged to confess the 
deceit he had practiced.
Dhurrumnath, on being acquainted with this, became extremely vexed, and 
vowed that from that day all the rajah's putteen cities should become
desolate and ruined.  The tradition goes on to state that in due time these 
cities were destroyed; Dhurrumnath, accompanied by his son, left the 
neighborhood, and proceeded to Denodur. Finding it a desirable place, he 
determined on performing Tupseeah, or penance, for twelve years, and chose 
the form of standing on his head.
On commencing to carry out this determination, he dismissed his son, who 
established his Doonee in the jungles, about twenty miles to the northwest 
of Bhooj.  After Dhurrumnath had remained Tup-seeah for twelve years, he was 
visited by all the angels from heaven, who besought him to rise; to which he 
replied? That if he did so, the portion of the country on which his sight 
would first rest would become barren: if villages, they would dis-appear; if 
woods or fields, they would equally be destroyed.  The angels then told him 
to turn his head to the north-east, where flowed the sea. Upon this he 
resumed his natural position, and, turning his head in the direction he was 
told, opened his eyes, when immediately the sea dis-appeared, the stately 
ships became wrecks, and their crews were destroyed, leaving nothing behind 
but a barren, unbroken desert, known as the Runn..
Dhurrumnath, too pure to remain on the earth, partook of an immediate and 
glorious immortality, being at once absorbed into the spiritual nature of
the creating, the finishing, the indivisible, all-per-vading Brum.
This self-imposed penance of Dhurrumnath has shed a halo of sanctity around 
the hill of Denodur. Without a doubt the reason it was selected as a fitting 
site for a Jogie establishment. The members of which, it is probable, were 
originally the attendants on a small temple that had been erected, and which 
still remains, on the highest point of the hill, on the spot where the holy 
Dhur-rumnath is said to have performed his painful Tupseeah.

THE TRAVELLER'S ADVENTURE.

IT is related that a man, mounted upon a camel, in the course of travelling 
arrived at a place where others from the same caravan had lighted a fire 
before proceeding on their journey.  The fanlike wind, breathing on the 
embers, had produced a flame; and the sparks, flying over the jungle, the 
dry wood had become ignited, and the whole plain glowed like a bed of 
tulips.
In the midst of this was an enormous snake, which, encircled by the flames, 
possessed no means of escape, and was about to be broiled like a fish, or 
kabobed like a partridge for the table. Blood oozed from its poison-charged 
eyes; and, seeing the man and the camel, it thus supplicated for assistance-

"What if in kindness you vouchsafe me your pity; Loosen the knot with which 
my affairs are entangled."

Now the traveler was a good man, and one who feared God.  When he heard the 
complaint of the snake, and saw its pitiable condition, he reasoned thus 
with himself: "This snake is, indeed, the
	enemy of man, but being in trouble and perplexity, it would be most 
commendable in me to drop the seed of compassion, the fruit of which is 
prosperity in this world, and exaltation in the next." Thus convinced, he 
fastened one of his saddlebags to the end of his spear, and extended it to 
the snake, which, delighted at escape, entered the bag, and was rescued from 
the flames. The man then opening the mouth of the bag, addressed it thus: 
"Depart whither you wilt, but forget not to offer up thanks-giving for your 
preservation; henceforth seek the corner of retirement, and cease to afflict 
mankind, for they who do so are dishonest in this world and the next

Fear God-distress no one;
This indeed is true salvation."

The snake replied, "O young man, hold your peace, for truly I warn not 
depart until I have wounded both thee and this camel."
The man cried out, "But how is this? Have I not rendered thee a benefit? 
Why, then, is such to be my recompense?

On my part there was faithfulness,
Why then this injustice upon me?"

The snake said, "True, you have shown mercy, but it was to an unworthy 
object. You know me to be an agent of injury to mankind, conse-quently, when 
you saved me from destruction, you subjected yourself to the same rule that 
applies to the punishment due for an evil act com-mitted against a worthy 
object.
"Again, between the snake and man there is a long-standing enmity, and they 
who employ fore-sight hold it as a maxim of wisdom to bruise the head of an 
enemy; to your security my destruction was necessary, but, in showing mercy, 
you have forfeited vigilance.  It is now necessary that I should wound thee, 
that others may learn by your example."
The man cried, "O snake, call but in the counsel of justice; in what creed 
is it written, or what practice declares, that evil should be returned for 
good, or that the pleasure of conferring benefits should be returned by 
injury and affliction?"
The snake replied, "Such is the practice amongst men.  I act according to 
your own decree; the same commodity of retribution I have purchased from 
thee I also sell.
	

	Buy for one moment that which you sells for years."

In vain did the traveler entreat, the snake ever replying, "I do but treat 
thee after the manner of men."  This the man denied.  "But," said he, "let 
us call witnesses: if you prove your assertion, I will yield to your will."  
The snake, looking round, saw a cow grazing at a distance, and said, "Come, 
we will ask this cow the rights of the question." When
they came up to the cow, the snake, opening its mouth, said, "O cow, what is 
the recompense for benefits received?"
The cow said, "If thou ask me after the manner of men, the return of good is 
always evil.  For instance, I was for a long time in the service of a 
farmer; yearly I brought forth a calf; I supplied his house with milk and 
ghee; his sustenance, and the life of his children, depended upon me. When I 
became old, and no longer produced young, he ceased to shelter me, and 
thrust me forth to die in a jungle. After finding forage, and roaming at my 
ease, I grew fat, and my old master, seeing my plump condition, yesterday 
brought with him a butcher, to whom he has sold me, and today is appointed 
for my slaughter."
The snake said, "You have heard the cow; pre-pare to die quickly." The man 
cried, "It is not lawful to decide a case on the evidence of one witness, 
let us then call another." The snake looked about and saw a tree, leafless 
and bare, flinging up its wild branches to the sky.  "Let us," said it, 
"appeal to this tree."  They proceeded together to the tree; and the snake, 
opening its mouth, said, "O tree, what is the recompense for good?"
The tree said, "Amongst men, for benefits are returned evil and injury. I 
will give you a proof of what I assert. I am a tree which, though growing on 
one leg in this sad waste, was once flourishing and green, performing 
service to every one.  When any of the human race, overcome with heat and 
travel, came this way, they rested beneath my shade. They slept beneath my 
branches; when the weight of repose abandoned their eyelids. They cast up 
their eyes to me, and said to each other, 'Yon twig would do well for an 
arrow; that branch would serve for a plough; and from the trunk of this tree 
what beautiful planks might be made!'  If they had an axe or a saw, they 
selected my branches, and carried them away. Thus they to whom I gave ease 
and rest rewarded me only with pain and affliction.

	Whilst my care overshadows him in perplexity, He meditates only how 
best to root me up."

"Well," said the snake, "here are two witnesses; therefore, form your 
resolution, for I must wound thee."  The man said, "True; but the love of 
life is powerful, and while strength remains, it is difficult to root the 
love of it from the heart.  Call but one more witness, and then I pledge 
myself to submit to his decree." Now it so wonderfully happened that a fox, 
who had been standing by, had heard all the argument, and now came forward.  
The snake on seeing it exclaimed, "Behold this fox, let us ask it."  But 
before the man could speak the fox cried out, "Do you not know that the 
recompense for good is always evil? But what good have you done in behalf of 
this snake, to render thee worthy of punishment?"  The man related his 
story.  The fox replied, "You seems an intelligent person, why then do you 
tell me an untruth?

How can it be proper for him that is wise to speak falsely? How can it 
become an intelligent man to state an untruth?"

The snake said, "The man speaks truly, for behold the bag in which he 
rescued me." The fox, putting on the garb of astonishment, said, "How can I 
believe this thing? How could a large snake such as you be contained in so 
small a space?" The snake said, "If you doubt me, I will again enter the bag 
to prove it'. The fox said, "Truly if I saw thee there, I could believe it, 
and afterwards settle the dispute between thee and this man." On this the 
traveler opened the bag, and the snake, annoyed at the disbelief of the fox, 
entered it; which observing, the fox cried out, "O young man, when you have 
caught your enemy, show him no quarter.
	
	When an enemy is vanquished, and in your power,
	It is the maxim of the wise to show him no mercy."

The traveler took the hint of the fox, fastened the mouth of the bag, and, 
dashing it against a stone, destroyed the snake, and thus saved mankind from 
the evil effects of its wicked propensities.

THE SEVEN STAGES OF ROOSTEM.

	PERSIA was at peace, and prosperous; but its king, Ky-Kaoos could 
never remain at rest. A favorite singer gave him one day an animated account 
of the beauties of the neighboring kingdom of Mazenderan: its ever-blooming 
roses, its melodious nightingales, its verdant plains, its mountains shaded 
with lofty trees, and adorned to their summits. with flowers which perfumed 
the air, its clear murmuring rivulets, and, above all, its lovely damsels 
and valiant warriors.
All these were described to the sovereign in such glowing colors that he 
quite lost his reason, and declared he should ever be happy till his power 
extended over a country so favored by Nature. It was in vain that his wisest 
ministers and most attached nobles dissuaded him from so hazardous an 
enterprise as that of invading.   This was a region which had, besides other 
defenders, a number of Deevs, or demons, who, acting under their renowned 
chief, Deev-e-Seffeed, or the White Demon, had hitherto defeated all 
enemies. would not listen to his nobles, who in despair sent for old Zal, 
the father of Roostem, and prince of Seestan.  Zal came, and used all his 
efforts, but in vain; the monarch was involved in clouds of pride, and 
closed a discussion he had with Zal by exclaiming, "The Creator of the world 
is my friend; the chief of the Deevs is my prey." This impious boasting 
satisfied Zal he could do no good; and he even refused to become regent of 
Persia in the absence of Ky-Kaoos, but promised to aid with his counsel
The king departed to anticipated conquest; but the prince of Mazenderan 
summoned his forces, and, above all, the Deev-e-Seffeed and his band They 
came at his call: a great battle ensued, in which the Persians were 
completely defeated.  Ky-Kaos was made prisoner, and confined in a strong 
fortress under the guard of a hundred Deevs, commanded by Arjeng. Arjeng was 
instructed to ask the Persian monarch every morning how he liked the roses, 
nightingales, flowers, trees, verdant meadows, shady mountains, clear 
streams, beautiful damsels, and valiant warriors of Mazenderan.
The news of this disaster soon spread over Persia, and notwithstanding the 
disgust of old Zal at the headstrong folly of his monarch, he was deeply 
afflicted at the tale of his misfortune and disgrace. He sent for Roostem, 
to whom he said, "Go, my son, and with your single arm, and your good horse,
Beksh, release our sovereign." Roostem instantly obeyed. There were two 
roads, but he chose the nearest, though it was reported to be by far the 
most difficult and dangerous.
Fatigued with his first day's journey, Roostexii lay down to sleep.  Having 
turned Reksh loose to graze in a neighboring meadow, where he was attacked 
by a furious lion.  This wonderful horse, after a short contest, struck his 
antagonist to the ground with a blow from his fore-hoof, and completed the 
victory by seizing the throat of the royal animal with his teeth. When 
Roostem awoke, he was surprised and enraged. He desired Reksh never again to 
attempt, unaided, such an encounter. "Had you been slain," asked he of the 
intern-gent brute, "how should I have accomplished my enterprise?"
At the second stage Roostem had nearly died of thirst, but his prayers to 
the Almighty were heard. A fawn appeared, as if to be his guide; and 
following it, he was conducted to a clear fountain, where, after regaling on 
the flesh of a wild ass, which he had killed with his bow, he lay down to 
sleep. In the middle of the night a monstrous serpent, seventy yards in 
length, came out of its hiding-place. The serpent made at the hero, who was 
awaked by the neighing of Reksh; but the serpent had crept back to its 
hiding-place, and Boo stem, seeing no danger, abused his faithful horse for 
disturbing his repose. Another attempt of the serpent was defeated in the 
same way; but as the monster had again concealed it-self, Roostem lost all 
patience with Reksh, whom he threatened to put to death if he again awaked 
him by any such unseasonable noises.  The faithful steed, fearing his 
master's rage, but strong in his attachment, instead of neighing when the 
serpent again made his appearance, sprang upon it, and commenced a furious 
contest.  Roostem, hearing the noise, started up and joined in the combat. 
The serpent darted at him, but he avoided it, and, while his noble horse 
seized their enemy by the back, the hero cut off its head with his sword.
	When the serpent was slain, Roostem contem-plated its enormous size 
with amazement, and, with that piety which always distinguished him, 
returned thanks to the Mighty for his miraculous escape.
Next day, as Roostem sat by a fountain, he saw a beautiful damsel regaling 
herself with wine.  He approached her, accepted her invitation to partake of 
the beverage, and clasped her in his arms as if she had been an angel.  It 
happened, in the course of their conversation, that the Persian hero men-
tioned the name of the great God he adored. At the sound of that sacred word 
the fair features and shape of the female changed, and she became black, 
ugly, and deformed.  The astonished Roostem seized her, and after binding 
her hands, bid her declare who she was.  "I am a sorceress," was the reply, 
"and have been employed by the evil spirit Aharman for your destruction; but 
save my life, and I am powerful to do thee service."  "I make no compact 
with the devil or his agents," said the hero, and cut her in twain.  He 
again poured forth his soul in thanksgiving to God for his deliverance.
On his fourth stage Roostem lost his way. While wandering about he came to a 
clear rivulet, on the banks of which he lay down to take some repose, having 
first turned Reksh loose into a field of grain. A gardener who had charge of 
it came and awoke the hero, telling him in an insolent tone that he would 
soon suffer for his temerity, as the field in which his horse was feeding 
belonged to a pehloovan, or warrior, called Oulad.  Roostem, always iras-
cible, but particularly so when disturbed in his slumbers, jumped up, tore 
off the gardener's ears, and gave him a blow with his fist that broke his 
nose and teeth.  "Take these marks of my temper to your master," he said, 
"and tell him to come here, and he shall have a similar welcome."
Oulad, when informed of what had passed, was excited to fury, and prepared 
to assail the Persian hero, who, expecting him, had put on his armor and 
mounted Reksh.  His appearance so dismayed Oulad that he dared not venture 
on the combat till he had summoned his adherents.  They all fell upon 
Roostem at once; but the base-born caitiffs were scattered like chaff before 
the wind; many were slain, others fled, among whom was their chief. Him 
Roostem came up with at the fifth stage, and having thrown his noose over 
him, took him prisoner. Oulad, in order to save his life, not only gave him 
full information of the place where his sovereign was confined, and of the 
strength of the Deev-e-Seffeed, but offered to give the hero every aid in 
the accomplishment of his perilous enterprise. This offer was accepted, and 
he proved a most useful auxiliary.
On the sixth day they saw in the distance the city of Mazenderan, near which 
the Deev-e-Seffeed resided. Two chieftains, with numerous attendants, met 
them; and one had the audacity to ride up to Roostem, and seize him by the 
belt. That chief's fury at this insolence was unbounded; he disdained, 
however, to use his arms against such an enemy, but, seizing the miscreant's 
head, wrenched it from the body, and hurled it at his companions, who fled 
in terror and dismay at this terrible proof of the hero's prowess.
Roostem proceeded, after this action, with his guide to the castle where the 
king was confined. The Deevs who guarded it were asleep, and 
Ky-Kaoos was found in a solitary cell, chained to the ground.  He recognized 
Roostem, and bursting into tears, pressed his deliverer to his bosom. 
Roostem immediately began to knock off his chains. The noise occasioned by 
this awoke the Deevs, whose leader, BeedAr-Reng, advanced to seize Roostem; 
but the appearance and threats of the latter so overawed him that he 
consented to purchase his own safety by the instant release of the Persian 
king and all his followers.
After this achievement Roostem proceeded to the last and greatest of his 
labors, the attack of the Deev-e-Seffeei  Oulad told him that the Deevs 
watched and feasted during the night, but slept during the heat of the day, 
hating (according to our narrator) the sunbeams. Roostem, as he ad-vanced, 
saw an immense army drawn out; he thought it better, before he attacked 
them, to re-fresh himself by some repose.  Having laid himself down, be soon 
fell into a sound sleep, and at day-light he awoke quite refreshed. As soon 
as the sun became warm, he rushed into the camp.  The heavy blows of his 
mace soon awoke the surprised and slumbering guards of the Deev-e-Seffeed; 
they collected in myriads, hoping to impede his progress, but all in vain.  
The rout became general, an4 none escaped but those who fled from the field 
of battle.
When this army was dispersed, Roostem went in search of the Deev-e-Seffeed.  
Deev-e-Seffeed, ignorant of the fate of his followers, slumbered in the 
recess of a cavern, the entrance to which looked so dark and gloomy that the 
Persian hero hesitated whether he should advance; but the noise of his 
approach had roused his enemy, who came forth, clothed in com-plete armor.  
His appearance was terrible; but Roostem, recommending his soul to God, 
struck a desperate blow, which separated the leg of the Deev from his body. 
This would on common occasions have terminated the contest, but far 
different was the result on the present. Irritated to madness by the loss of 
a limb, the monster seized his enemy in his arms, and endeavored to throw 
him down. The struggle was for some time doubtful; but Roostem, collecting 
all his strength, by a wondrous effort dashed his foe to the ground, and 
seizing him by one of the horns, unsheathed his dagger and stabbed him to 
the heart.  The Deev-e-Seffeed instantly expired; and Roostem, on looking 
round to the entrance of the cavern, from whence the moment before he had 
seen numberless Deevs issuing to the aid of their lord, perceived they were 
all dead.  Oulad, who stood at a prudent distance from the scene of combat, 
now advanced and in-formed the hero that the lives of all the Deevs depended 
upon that of their chief.  When he was slain, the spell which created and 
preserved this band was broken, and they all expired.
Roostem found little difficulty after these seven days of toil, of danger, 
and of glory, in compelling Mazenderan to submit to Persia.  The king of the 
country was slain, and Oulad was appointed its governor as a reward for his 
fidelity. The success of his arms had raised Ky-Kaoos to the very plenitude 
of power; not only men, but Deevs, obeyed his mandates.  The latter he em-
ployed in building palaces of crystal, emeralds, and rubies, till at last 
they became quite tired of their toil and abject condition.  They sought, 
therefore, to destroy him; and to accomplish this they consulted with the 
devil. To forward the object, the devil instructed a Deev, called Dizjkheem, 
to go to Ky-Kaoos and raise in his mind a passion for astronomy, and to 
promise him a nearer view of the celestial bodies than had ever yet been 
enjoyed by mortal eyes. The Deev fulfilled his commission with such success 
that the king became quite wild with a desire to attain perfection in this 
sublime science.  The devil then instructed  Dizjkheem to train some young 
vultures to carry a throne upwards; this was done by placing spears round 
the throne, on the points of which pieces of flesh were fixed in view of the 
vul-tures, who were fastened at the bottom.  These voracious birds, in their 
efforts to reach the meat, raised the throne.
Though he mounted rapidly for a short time, the vultures became exhausted, 
and finding their efforts to reach the meat hopeless, discontinued them; 
this altered the direction and equilibrium of the machine, and it tossed to 
and fro. Ky-Kaoos would have been cast headlong and killed had he not clung 
to it.  The vultures, not being able to disengage themselves, flew an 
immense way, and at last landed the affrighted monarch in one of the woods 
of China. Armies marched in every direction to discover and release the 
sovereign, who, it was believed, had again fallen into the hands of Deevs. 
He was at last found and restored to his capital. Roostem, we are told, 
upbraided his folly, saying-"Have you managed your affairs so well OR earth
	That you must needs try your hand in those of heaven?"

THE MAN WHO NEVER LAUGHED.

	THERE was a man, of those possessed of houses and riches, who had 
wealth and servants and slaves and other possessions; and he departed from 
the world to receive the mercy of God (whose name be ex-alted!), leaving a 
young son.  And when the son grew up, he took to eating and drinking, and 
the hearing of instruments of music and songs, and was liberal and gave 
gifts, and expended the riches that his father had left to him until all the 
wealth had gone.  He then betook himself to the sale of the male black 
slaves, and the female slaves, and other possessions, and expended all that 
he had of his
father's wealth and other things, and became so poor that he worked with the 
laborers.  In this
state he remained for a period of years. While he was sitting one day 
beneath a wall, waiting to see who would hire him, lo! a man of comely 
counten-ance and apparel drew near to him and saluted him.  So the youth 
said to him, "O uncle, have you known me before now?" The man answered him, 
"I have not known thee, O my son, at all; but I see the traces of affluence 
upon thee, though you art in this condition." The young man re-plied, "O 
uncle, what fate and destiny have ordained has come to pass. But have you, O 
uncle, O comely-faced, any business in which to employ me?" The man said to 
him, "O my son, I desire to employ thee in an easy business."  The youth 
asked, "And what is it, O uncle?" And the man answered him, "I have with me 
ten sheiks in one abode, and we have no one to perform our wants.
     You shall receive from us, of food and clothing, what will suffice 
thee, and shall serve us, and you
	shall receive of us your portion of benefits and money.  Perhaps, 
also, God will restore to thee your influence by our means."  The youth 
there-fore replied, "I hear and obey." The sheik then said to him, "I have a 
condition to impose upon thee."   "And what is your condition, O uncle?" 
asked the youth.  He answered him, "O my son, it is that you keep our secret 
with respect to the things that you shall see us do; and when you sees us 
weep, that you ask us not respecting the cause of our weeping." And the 
young man re-plied, "Well, O uncle."
So the sheik said to him, "O my son, come with us, relying on the blessing 
of God (whose name be exalted!)." And the young man followed the sheik until 
the latter conducted him to the bath; after which he sent a man, who brought 
him a comely garment of linen, and he clad him with it, and went with him to 
his abode and his associates. And when the young man entered, he found it to 
be a high mansion, with lofty angles, ample, with chambers facing one 
another, and saloons. In each saloon was a fountain of water, and birds were 
warbling over it, and there were windows overlook-ing, on every side, a 
beautiful garden within the mansion. The sheik conducted him into one of the 
chambers, and he found it decorated with colored marbles, and its ceiling 
ornamented with blue and brilliant gold, and it was spread with carpets of 
silk. He found in it ten sheiks sitting facing one another, wearing the 
garments of mourning, weeping, and wailing. So the young man wondered at 
their case, and was about to question the sheik who had brought him, but he 
remembered the condition, and therefore withheld his tongue. Then the sheik 
gave to the young man a chest containing thirty thousand pieces of gold. 
They said to him, "O my son, expend upon us out of this chest, and upon 
yourself, according to what is just, and be you faithful, and take care of 
that what I have intrusted thee."  And the young man replied, "I hear and 
obey."  He continued to expend upon them for a period of days and nights, 
after which one of them died; whereupon his companions took him, and washed 
him and shrouded him, and buried him in a garden behind the mansion.  And 
death ceased not to take of them one after another, until there remained 
only the sheik who had hired the young man.  So he remained with the young 
man in that mansion, and there was not with them a third; and they remained 
thus for a period of years.  Then the sheik fell sick. When the young man 
despaired of his life, he addressed him with courtesy, and was grieved for 
him, and said to him, "O uncle, I have served you, and not failed in your 
service one hour for a period of twelve years, but have acted faithfully to 
you, and served you according to my power and ability." The sheik replied, 
"Yes, O my son, you have served us until these sheiks have been taken unto 
God (to whom be ascribed might and glory!), and we must inevit-ably die." 
And the young man said, "O my master, you art in a state of peril, and I 
desire of thee that you inform me what has been the cause of your weeping, 
and the continuance of your wailing and your mourning and your sorrow."  He 
replied, "O my son, you have no concern with that, and require me not to do 
what I am unable; for I have begged God (whose name be exalted!) not to 
afflict any one with my affliction.  Now if you desire to be safe from that 
into which we have fallen, open not that door.” He pointed to it with his 
hand, and cautioned him against it; "and if you desire that what has 
befallen us should befall thee, open it, and you wilt know the cause of that 
which you have beheld in our conduct; but you wilt repent, when repentance 
will not avail thee." Then the illness increased upon the sheik, and he 
died; and the young man washed him with his own hands, and shrouded him, and 
buried him by his companions.
He remained in that place, possessing it and all the treasure; but 
notwithstanding this, he was uneasy, reflecting upon the conduct of the 
sheiks. And while he was meditating one day upon the words of the sheik, and 
his charge to him not to open the door, it occurred to his mind that he 
might look at it. So he went in that direction, and searched until he saw an 
elegant door, over which the spider had woven its webs, and upon it were 
four locks of steel When he beheld it, he remembered bow the sheik had 
cautioned him, and he departed from it. His soul desired him to open the 
door, and he restrained it during a period of seven days, but on the eighth 
day his soul over-came him. He said, "I must open that door, and see what 
will happen to me in consequence; for nothing will repel what God (whose 
name be exalted!) decreed and predestined, and no event will happen but by 
His will"  Accordingly he arose and opened the door, after he had broken the 
locks. And when he had opened the door he saw a narrow passage, along which 
he walked for the space of three hours; and lo! He came forth upon the bank 
of a great river.  At this the young man wondered. And he walked along the 
bank, looking to the right and left; and behold! a great eagle descended 
from the sky, and taking up the young man with its talons, it flew with him, 
between heaven and earth, until it conveyed him to an island in the midst of 
the sea.  There it threw him down, and departed from him.
So the young man was perplexed at his case, not knowing whither to go; but 
while he was sitting one day, lo! the sail of a vessel appeared to him upon 
the sea, like the star in the sky; wherefore the heart of the young man 
became intent upon the vessel, in the hope that his escape might be effected 
in it. He continued looking at it until it came near unto him; and when it 
arrived, he beheld a bark of ivory and ebony, the oars of which were of 
sandal-wood and aloes-wood, and the whole of it was encased with plates of 
brilliant gold.  There were also in it ten damsels, virgins, like moons. 
When the damsels saw him, they landed to him from the bark, and kissed his 
hands, saying to him, "You art the king, the bridegroom."  Then there 
advanced to him a damsel who was like the shining sun in the clear sky, 
having in her hand a kerchief of silk, in which were a royal robe, and a 
crown of gold set with varieties of jacinths.  Having ad-vanced to him, she 
clad him and crowned him; after which the damsels carried him in their arms 
to the bark, and he found in it varieties of carpets of silk of divers 
colors.  They then spread the sails, and proceeded over the depths of the 
sea.
"Now when I proceeded with them," says the young man, "I felt sure that this 
was a dream, and knew not whither they were going with me. And when they 
came in sight of the land, I beheld it filled with troops, the number of 
which none knew but God (whose perfection be extolled, and whose name be 
exalted!) clad in coats of mail.  They brought forward to me five marked 
horses, with saddles of gold, set with varieties of pearls and precious 
stones; and I took a horse from among these and mounted it.  The four others 
proceeded with me; and when I mounted, the ensigns and banners were set up 
over my head, the drums and the cymbals were beaten, and the troops disposed 
themselves in two divisions, right and left.  I wavered in opinion as to 
whether I were asleep or awake. I ceased not to advance, not believing in 
the reality of my stately procession, but imagin-ing that it was the result 
of confused dreams, until we came in sight of a verdant meadow, in which 
were palaces and gardens, and trees and rivers and flowers, and birds 
proclaiming the perfection of God, the One, the Omnipotent. And now there 
came forth an army from among those palaces and gardens, like the torrent 
when it poured down, until it filled the meadow.  When the troops drew near 
to me, they hailed, and lo! a king advanced from among them, riding alone, 
preceded by some of his chief officers walking."
The king, on approaching the young man, alighted from his courser; and the 
young man, seeing him do so, alighted also.; and they saluted each other 
with the most courteous salutation.  Then they mounted their horses again, 
and the king said to the young man, "Accompany us; for you art my guest."  
So the young man proceeded with him, and they conversed together, while the 
stately trains in orderly disposition went on before them to the palace of 
the king, where they alighted, and all of them entered, together with the 
king and the young man, the young man's hand being in the hand of the king, 
who thereupon seated him on the throne of gold and seated himself beside 
him.  When the king removed the litham from his face, lo! this supposed king 
was a damsel, like the shining sun in the clear sky, a lady of beauty and 
loveliness, and elegance and perfection, and conceit and amorous 
dissimulation. The young man beheld vast affluence and great prosperity, and 
wondered at the beauty and loveliness of the damsel.  Then the damsel said 
to him, "Know, O king, that I am the queen of this land, and all these 
troops that you have seen, including every one, whether of cavalry or 
infantry, are women. There are not among them any men. The men among us, in 
this land, till and sow and
	reap, employing themselves in the cultivation of the land, and the 
building and repairing of the towns, and in attending to the affairs of the 
people, by the pursuit of every kind of art and trade; but as to the women, 
they are the governors and magistrates and soldiers."  And the young man 
wondered at this extremely.  And while they were thus conversing, the vizier 
entered; and lo! she was a gray-haired old woman, having a numerous retinue, 
of venerable and dignified appearance; and the queen said to her, "Bring to 
us the Kadee and the witnesses." So the old woman went for that purpose. And 
the queen turned towards the young man, conversing with him and cheering 
him, and dispelling his fear by kind words; and, addressing him courteously, 
she said to him, ' Art you content for me to be your wife?" And thereupon he 
arose and kissed. the ground before her; but she forbade him; and he 
replied, "O my mistress, I am less than the servants who serve thee." She 
then said to him, "See you not these servants and. soldiers and wealth and 
treasures and hoards?" He answered her, "Yes." And she said to him, "All 
these are at your disposal; you shall make use of them, and give. and bestow 
as seemed fit to thee."  Then she pointed t9 a closed door, and said to him, 
"All these things you shall dispose of, but this door you shall not open; 
for if you open it, you wilt repent, when repentance will not avail thee."  
Her words were not ended when the vizier, with the Kadee and the witnesses, 
entered, and all of them were old women, with their hair spreading over 
their shoulders, and of venerable and dignified appearance. When they came 
before the queen, she ordered them to per-form the ceremony of the marriage-
contract.  So they married her to the young man.  And she pre-pared the 
banquets and collected the troops; and when they had eaten and drunk, the 
young man took her as his wife. And he resided with her seven years, passing 
the most delightful, comfortable, and agreeable life.
But he meditated one day upon opening the door, and said, "Were it not that 
there are within it great treasures, better than what I have seen, she had 
not prohibited me from opening it." He then arose and opened the door, and 
lot within it was the bird that had carried him from the shore of the great 
river, and deposited him upon the island. When the bird beheld him, it said 
to him, "No welcome to a face that will never be happy!"  So, when he saw it 
and heard its words, he fled from it; but it followed him and carried him 
off; and flew with him between heaven and earth for the space of an hour, 
and at length deposited him in the place from which it had carried him away; 
after which it disappeared.  He thereupon sat in that place, and, returning 
to his reason, he reflected upon what he had seen of affluence and glory and 
honor, and the riding of the troops before him, and commanding and 
forbidding; and he wept and wailed. He remained upon the shore of the great 
river, where that bird had put him, for the space of two months, wishing 
that he might return to his wife; but while he was one night awake, mourning 
and meditating, some one spoke (and he heard his voice, but saw not his 
person), calling out, "How great were the delights! Far, far from thee is 
the return of what is passed! And how many therefore will be the sighs!" So 
when the young man heard it, he despaired of meeting again that queen, and 
of the return to him of the affluence in which he had been living. He then 
entered the mansion where the sheiks had resided, and knew that they had ex-
perienced the like of that which had happened unto him, and that this was 
the cause of their weeping and their mourning; wherefore he excused them. 
Grief and anxiety came upon the young man, and he entered his chamber, and 
ceased not to weep and moan, relinquishing food and drink and pleasant 
scents and laughter, until he died; and he was buried by the side of the 
sheiks.

THE FOX AND THE WOLF

A FOX and a wolf inhabited the same den, resorting thither together, and 
thus they remained a long time. But the wolf oppressed the fox; and it so 
happened that the fox counseled the wolf to assume benignity, and to abandon 
wickedness, saying to him, "If you persevere in your arrogance, probably God 
will give power over thee to a son of Adam; for he is possessed of 
stratagems, and artifice, and guile; he captured the birds from the sky, and 
the fish from the sea, and cut the mountains and transported them; and all 
this he accomplished through his stratagems. Betake yourself, therefore, to 
the practice of equity, and relinquish evil and oppression; for it will be 
more pleasant to your taste."  The wolf, however, received not his advice; 
on the contrary, he returned him a rough reply, saying to him, "You have no 
right to speak on matters of magnitude and importance." He then gave the fox 
such a blow that he fell down senseless; and when he recovered, he smiled in 
the wolf's face, apologizing for his shameful words, and recited these two 
verses:

	"If I have been faulty in my affection for you, and committed a deed 
of a shameful nature,

	I repent of my offence, and your clemency will extend to the 
evildoer who craved forgiveness."

So the wolf accepted his apology, and ceased from ill-treating him, but said 
to him, "Speak not of that which concerns thee not, lest you hear that which 
will not please thee." The fox replied) "I hear and obey. I will abstain 
from that which pleases thee not; for the sage has said, 'Offer not 
information on a subject respecting which you art not ques-tioned; and reply 
not to words when you art not invited; leave what concerns thee not, to 
attend to that which does concern thee; and lavish not advice upon the evil, 
for they will recompense thee for it with evil.'"
When the wolf heard these words of the fox, he smiled in his face; but he 
meditated upon employing some artifice against him, and said, "I must strive 
to effect the destruction of this fox." As to the fox, however, he bore 
patiently the injurious conduct of the wolf, saying within himself, "Verily, 
insolence and calumny occasion destruction, and betray one into perplexity; 
for it has been said, 'He who is insolent suffers injury, and he who is 
ignorant repented, and he who fears is safe: moderation is one of the 
qualities of the noble, and good manners are the noblest gain.' It is 
advisable to behave with dissimulation towards this tyrant, and he will 
inevitably be overthrown." He then said to the wolf, "Verily the Lord 
pardoned and becomes propitious unto His servant when he has sinned; and I 
am a weak slave, and have committed a transgression in offering thee advice. 
Had I foreknown the pain that I have suffered from your blow, I had known 
that the elephant could not withstand nor endure it; but I will not complain 
of the pain of that blow, on account of the happiness that has resulted unto 
me from it; for, if it had a severe effect upon me, its result was 
happiness; and the sage has said, 'The beating inflicted by the preceptor is 
at first extremely grievous; but in the end it is sweeter than clarified 
honey!"' So the wolf said, "I forgive your offence, and cancel your fault; 
but beware of my power, and confess yourself my slave; for you have 
experienced my severity unto him who shows me hostility." The fox, 
therefore, prostrated himself before him, saying to him, "May God prolong 
your life, and may you not cease to subdue him who opposes thee!" And he 
continued to fear the wolf, and to dissemble towards him.
After this the fox went one day to a vineyard, and saw in its wall a breach; 
but he suspected it, saying unto himself, "There must be some cause for this 
breach, and it has been said, 'Who so sees a hole in the ground, and does 
not shun it, and be
cautious of advancing to it boldly, exposes himself to danger and 
destruction.'  It is well known that some men make a figure of the fox in 
the vineyard, and even put before it grapes in plates, in order that a fox 
may see it, and advance to it, and fall into destruction. Verily I regard 
this breach as a snare; and it has been said, 'Caution is the half of 
cleverness.' Caution requires me to examine this breach, and to see if I can 
find there anything that may lead to perdition.  Covetousness does not 
induce me to throw myself into destruction." He then approached it, and, 
going round about ex-amining it warily, beheld it; and lo! there was a deep 
pit, which the owner of the vineyard had dug to catch in it the wild beasts 
that despoiled the vines; and he observed over it a slight covering. So he 
drew back from it, and said, "Praise be to God that I regarded it with 
caution! I hope that my enemy, the wolf, who has made my life miser-able, 
may fall into it, so that I alone may enjoy absolute power over the 
vineyard, and live in it securely." Then, shaking his head, and uttering a 
loud laugh, he merrily sang these verses-

"Would that I beheld at the present moment in this
	well a wolf,
	Who bath long afflicted my heart, and made me drink bitterness 
perforce!
	Would that lily life might be spared, and that the wolf might meet 
his death!
	Then the vineyard would be free from his presence, and I should find 
in it my spoil."

Having finished his song, he hurried away until he came to the wolf, when he 
said to him, "Verily God has smoothed for thee the way to the vine-yard 
without fatigue. This has happened through your good fortune. May you enjoy, 
therefore, that to which God has granted thee access, in smoothing your way 
to that plunder and that abun-dant sustenance without any difficulty!" So 
the wolf said to the fox, "What is the proof of that which you have 
declared?"  The fox answered, "I went to the vineyard, and found that its 
owner had died; and I entered the garden, and beheld the fruits shining upon 
the trees."
So the wolf doubted not the words of the fox, and in his eagerness he arose 
and went to the breach. His cupidity had deceived him with vain hopes, and 
the fox stopped and fell down behind him as one dead, applying this verse as 
a proverb suited to the case-

"Do you covet an interview with Leyla? It is covetousness that causes the 
loss of men's heads."

When the wolf came to the breach, the fox said to him, "Enter the vineyard; 
for you art spared the trouble of breaking down the wall of the garden, and 
it remained for God to complete the benefit." So the wolf walked forward, 
desiring to enter the vineyard, and when he came to the middle of the 
covering of the hole, he fell into it; whereupon the fox was violently 
excited by happiness and joy, his
	anxiety and grief ceased, and in merry tones he sang these verses-

	"Fortune has compassionated my case, and felt pity for the length of 
my torment,
	And granted me what I desired, and removed that which I dreaded.
	I will, therefore, forgive its offences committed in former times;
	Even the injustice it has shown in the turning of my hair gray.
	There is no escape for the wolf from utter annihilation. And the 
vineyard is for me alone, and I have no stupid partner."

He then looked into the pit, and beheld the wolf weeping in his repentance 
and sorrow for himself -and the fox wept with him.  So the wolf raised his 
head towards him, and said, "Is it from your com-passion for me that you 
have wept, O 
Abu-l-Hoseyn?"  "No," answered the fox, "by him who cast thee into this pit; 
but I weep for the length of your past life, and in my regret at your not 
having fallen into this pit before the present day.  Had you fallen into it 
before I met with thee, I would have experienced refreshment and ease.  But 
you have been spared to the expiration of your decreed term and known 
period."  The wolf, however, said to him, "Go, O evildoer, to my mother, and 
acquaint her with that which has happened to me; perhaps she will contrive 
some means for my deliverance." But the fox replied, "The excess of your 
covetous-ness and eager desire has entrapped thee into de-struction, since 
you have fallen into a pit from which you wilt never be saved.  Know you 
not, O ignorant wolf, that the author of the proverb says, 'He who thinks 
not of results will not be secure from perils ("" "O Abu-l-Hoseyn!" rejoined 
the wolf, "you was wont to manifest an affection for me, and to desire my 
friendship, and fear the greatness of my power. Be not, then, rancorous 
towards me for that which I have done unto thee; for he who has one in his 
power, and yet forgives, will receive a recompense from God, and the poet 
has said-

'Sow good, even on an unworthy soil; for it will not be fruitless wherever 
it is sown.
	Verily, good, though it remained long buried, none will reap but him 
who sowed it."'

"O most ignorant of the beasts of prey!" said the fox, "and most stupid of 
the wild beasts of the regions of the earth, have you forgotten your 
haughti-ness, and insolence, and pride, and your disregarding the rights of 
companionship, and your refusing to be advised by the saying of the poet ?-

"'Tyrannize not, if you have the power to do so; for the tyrannical is in 
danger of revenge,
	Your eye will sleep while the oppressed, wakeful, will call down 
curses on thee, and God's eye sleeps not."'

O	Abu-l-Hoseyn!" exclaimed the wolf, "be not angry with me for my 
former offences, for forgive-ness is required of the generous, and kind 
c6nduct
	is among the best means of enriching one's-self How excellent is the 
saying of the poet-
	
	"'Haste to do good when you art able; for at every season you have 
not the power.'"

He continued to abase himself to the fox, and said to him, "Perhaps you can 
find some means of delivering me from destruction." But the fox replied, "O 
artful, guileful, treacherous wolf I hope not for deliverance; for this is 
the recompense of your base conduct, and a just retaliation." Then, shaking 
his jaws with laughing, he recited these two verses-

"No longer attempt to beguile me;; for you wilt not attain your object.
What you seek from me is impossible. You have 
sown, and reap, then, vexation."

"O gentle one among the beasts of prey!" re-sumed the wolf, "you art in my 
estimation more faithful than to leave me in this pit." He then shed tears, 
and repeated this couplet-

	"O you whose favors to me have been many, and whose gifts have been 
more than can be numbered!
	No misfortune has ever yet befallen me but I have found thee ready 
to aid me in it."


The fox replied, ' O stupid enemy, how art you reduced to humility, 
submissiveness, abjectness, and obsequiousness, after your disdain, pride, 
tyranny, and haughtiness!  I kept company with thee through fear of your 
oppression, and flattered thee
	without a hope of conciliating your kindness; but now terror has 
affected thee, and punishment has overtaken thee."  And he recited these two 
verses-

	"O you who seeks to beguile! you have fallen in your base intention.
	Taste, the, the pain of shameful calamity, and be with other wolves 
cut off."

The wolf still entreated him, saying, "O gentle one! speak not with the 
tongue of enmity, nor look with its eye; but fulfil the covenant of 
fellowship with me before the time for discovering a remedy shall have 
passed.  Arise and procure for me a rope, and tie one end of it to a tree, 
and let down to me its other end, that I may lay hold of it. Perhaps I may 
so escape from my present predica-ment, and I will give thee all the 
treasures that I possess."  The fox, however, replied, "You have prolonged a 
conversation that will not procure your liberation.  Hope not., therefore, 
for your escape through my means; but reflect upon your former wicked 
conduct, and the perfidy and artifice which you thought to employ against 
me, and how near you art to being stoned.  Know that your soul is about to 
quit the world, and to perish and depart from it: then wilt you be reduced 
to destruction, and an evil abode is it to which you goes!
	     "O Abu-l-Hoseyn!" rejoined the wolf, "be ready in returning to 
friendship, and be not so rancorous.
Know that he who delivers a soul from destruc-tion has saved it alive, and 
he who saves a soul alive is as if he had lived the lives of all mankind. 
Follow not a course of evil, for the wise abhor it; and there is no evil 
more manifest than my being in this pit, drinking the suffocating pains of 
death, and looking upon destruction, when you art able to deliver me from 
the misery into which I have fallen." But the fox exclaimed, " O you 
barbarous, hard-hearted wretch!  I compare thee, with respect to the 
fairness of your professions and the baseness of your intention, to the 
falcon with the partridge." 
"And what," asked the wolf, "is the story of the falcon and the partridge ?"
The fox answered, "I entered a vineyard one day to eat of its grapes, and 
while I was there, I beheld a falcon pounce upon a partridge; but when he 
had captured him, the partridge escaped from him and entered his nest, and 
concealed himself in it; whereupon the falcon followed him, calling out to 
him, 'O idiot! I saw thee in the desert hungry, and, feeling compassion for 
thee, I gathered for thee some grain, and took hold of thee that you might 
eat; but you fled from me, and I see no reason for your flight unless it be 
to mortify. Show yourself, then, and take the grain that I have brought thee 
and eat it, and may it be light and wholesome to thee.'  So when the 
partridge heard these words of the falcon, he believed him and came forth to 
him; and the falcon stuck his talons into him, and got possession of him. 
The partridge therefore said to him, 'Is this that of which you said that 
you had brought for me from the desert, and of which you said to me, "Eat 
it, and may it be light and wholesome to thee?"  You have lied unto me; and 
may God make that which you eat of my flesh to be a mortal poison in your 
stomach!' And when he had eaten it, his feathers fell off; and his strength 
failed, and he forthwith died"
The fox then continued, "Know, O wolf, that he who digs a pit for his 
brother soon falls into it himself; and you behaved with perfidy to me 
first."  "Cease," replied the wolf, "from addressing me with this discourse, 
and propounding fables, and mention not unto me my former base actions. It 
is enough for me to be in this miserable state, since I have fallen into a 
calamity for which the enemy would pity me, much more the true friend.  C6n-
sider some stratagem by means of which I may save myself, and so assist me. 
If the doing this occasion thee trouble, you know that the true friend 
endures for his own true friend the severest labor, and will suffer 
destruction in obtaining his deliver-ance; and it has been said, 'An 
affectionate friend is even better than a brother.'  If you procure means 
for my escape, I will collect for thee such things as shall be a store for 
thee against the time of want, and then I will teach thee extraordinary 
stratagems by which you shall make the plenteous vineyards accessible, and 
shall strip the fruitful trees: so be happy and cheerful."  But the fox 
said, laughing as he spoke, "How excellent is that which the learned have 
said of him who is exces-sively ignorant like thee!'  "And what have the 
learned said?" asked the wolf.  The fox answered, "The learned have observed 
that the rude in body and in disposition is far from intelligence, and nigh 
unto ignorance; for your assertion, O perfidious idiot! That the true friend 
undergoes trouble for the deliverance of his own true friend is just as you 
have said; but acquaint me, with your ignor-ance and your paucity of sense, 
how I should bear sincere friendship towards thee with your treachery. Have 
you considered me a true friend unto thee when I am an enemy who rejoices in 
your misfor-tune?  These words are more severe than the piercing of arrows, 
if you understand.  And as to your saying that you wilt give me such things 
as will be a store for me against the time of want, and will teach me 
stratagems by which I shall obtain access to the plenteous vineyards and 
strip the fruitful trees-how is it, O guileful traitor! That you know not a 
stratagem by means of which to save yourself from destruction? How far, 
then, art you from profiting yourself, and how far am I from receiving your 
advice? If you know of stratagems,
employ them to save yourself from this predicament from which I pray God to 
make your escape far distant. See, then, O idiot! If you know any stratagem, 
and save yourself by its means from slaughter, before you lavish instruction 
upon another. But you art like a man whom a disease attacked, and to whom 
there came a man suffering from the same disease to cure him, saying to him, 
'Shall I cure thee of your disease?'  The first man, therefore, said to the 
other, 'Why have you not begun by curing yourself?' So he left him and went 
his way.  And you, O wolf, art in the same case. Remain, then, in your 
place, and endure that which has befallen thee."
Now when the wolf heard these words of the fox, he knew that he had no 
kindly feeling for him; so he wept for himself, and said, "I have been 
careless of myself; but if God deliver me from this affliction, I will 
assuredly repent of my overbearing conduct unto him that is weaker than I; 
and I will cer-tainly wear wool, and ascend the mountains, com-memorating 
the praises of God (whose name be exalted!) and fearing His punishment; and 
I will separate myself from all the other wild beasts, and verily I will 
feed the warriors in defense of the re-ligion and the poor." Then he wept 
and lamented; and thereupon the heart of the fox was moved with tenderness 
for him. On hearing his humble expres-sions, and the words which indicated 
his repenting
of arrogance and pride, he was affected with passion for him, and, leaping 
with joy, placed self at the brink of the pit, and sat upon his legs and 
hung down his tail into the cavity.  Upon this the wolf arose, and stretched 
forth his paw towards the fox's tail, and pulled him down to him so the fox 
was with him in the pit. The wolf then said to him, "O fox of little 
compassion! Didn’t you rejoice in my misfortune? Now you have become my 
companion, and in my power. You have fallen into the pit with me, and 
punishment has quickly overtaken thee.  The sages have said, 'If any one of 
you reproach his brother for deriving his nourishment from miserable means, 
he shall experience the same necessity,' and how excellent is the saying of 
the poet-

"'When fortune throws itself heavily upon some, and encamps by the side of 
others,
	Say to those who rejoice over us, "Awake: the rejoicers over us 
shall suffer as we have done."'

"I must now," he continued, "hasten your slaughter, before you behold mine."  
So the fox said within himself, "I have fallen into the snare with this 
tyrant, and my present case requires the employ-ment of artifice and frauds.  
It has been said that the woman makes her ornaments for the day of 
festivity; and, in a proverb, 'I have not reserved thee, O my tear, but for 
the time of my difficulty!' and if I employ not some stratagem in the affair 
of
this tyrannical wild beast, I perish inevitably. How good is the saying of 
the poet-

"'Support yourself by guile; for you live in an age
whose sons are like the lions of the forest; 
And brandish around the spear of artifice, that the mill of subsistence may 
revolve;
And pluck the fruits; or if they be beyond your reach, then content yourself 
with herbage.'"


He then said to the wolf, "Hasten not to kill me, lest you repent, O 
courageous wild beast, endowed with might and excessive fortitude! If you 
delay, and consider what I am about to tell thee, you wilt know the desire 
that I formed; and if you hasten to kill me, there will be no profit to thee 
in your doing so, but we shall die here together." So the wolf said, "O you 
wily deceiver! How is it that you hope to effect my safety and your own, 
that you ask me to give thee a delay? Acquaint me with the desire that you 
formed." The fox replied, "As to the desire that I formed, it was such as 
requires thee to recompense me for it well, since, when I heard your 
promises, and your confession of your past conduct, and your regret at not 
having before repented an4 done good; and when I heard your vows to abstain 
from injurious conduct to your companions and others, and to relinquish the 
eating of the grapes and all other fruits, and to impose upon yourself the 
obligation of humility, and to clip your claws and break your dog-teeth, and 
to wear wool and offer sacrifice to God (whose name be exalted!) if He 
delivered thee from your present state, I was affected with compassion for 
thee, though I was before longing for your destruction.  So when I heard 
your profession of repentance, and what you vowed to do if God delivered 
thee, I felt con-strained to save thee from your present predicament. I 
therefore hung down my tail that you might catch hold of it and make your 
escape.  But you would not relinquish your habit of severity and violence, 
nor desire escape and safety for yourself by gentleness.  On the contrary, 
you did pull me in such a way that I thought my soul had departed, so I 
became a companion with thee of the abode of destruction and death; and 
nothing will effect the escape of myself and thee but one plan.  If you 
approve of this plan that I have to propose, we shall both save ourselves; 
and after that, it will be incumbent on thee to fulfil that which you have 
vowed to do, and I will be your companion." So the wolf said, "And what is 
your proposal that I am to accept?" The fox answered, "That you raise 
yourself upright; then I will place myself upon your head, that I may 
approach the surface of the earth, and when I am upon its surface I will go 
forth and bring thee something of which to take hold, and after that you 
wilt deliver yourself." But the wolf replied, "I put no confidence in your 
words; for the sages have said, 'He who confided when he should
hate is in error'; and it has been said, 'He who confided in the faithless 
is deceived, and he who makes trial of the trier will repent.'  How 
excellent also is the saying of the poet-

"'Let not your opinion be otherwise than evil; for ill
opinion is among the strongest of intellectual qualities.
Nothing cast a man into a place of danger like the
practice of good, and a fair opinion I'

"And the saying of another-

Always hold an evil opinion, and so be safe.
Whoever lives vigilantly, his calamities will be few.
Meet the enemy with a smiling and an open face; but raise for him an army in 
the heart to combat him.'

"And that of another-

"'The most bitter of your enemies is the nearest whom you trust in: beware 
then of men, and associate with them wilily.
Your favorable opinion of fortune is a weakness: think evil of it, 
therefore, and regard it with apprehension! ''

"Verily," rejoined the fox, "an evil opinion is not commendable in every 
case; but a fair opinion is among the characteristics of excellence, and its 
result is escape from terrors.  It is befitting, O wolf, that you employ 
some stratagem for your escape from the present predicament; and it will be 
better for us both to escape than to die.  Relinquish, therefore, your evil 
opinion and your malevolence; for if you think favorably of me, I shall not 
fail to do one of two things; either I shall bring thee something of which 
to lay hold, and you wilt escape from your present situation, or I shall act 
perfidiously towards thee, and save myself and leave thee; but this is a 
thing that cannot be, for I am not secured from meeting with some such 
affliction as that which you have met with, and that would be the punish-
ment of perfidy.  It has been said in a proverb, 'Fidelity is good, and 
perfidy is base.' It is fit, then, that you trust in me, for I have not been 
ignorant of misfortunes.  Delay not, therefore, to contrive our escape, for 
the affair is too strait for thee to prolong your discourse upon it."
The wolf then said, "Verily, notwithstanding my little confidence in your 
fidelity, I knew what was in your heart, that you desired my deliverance 
when you was convinced of my repentance; and I said within myself, 'If he be 
veracious in that which he asserted, he has made amends for his wicked-ness; 
and if he be false, he will be recompensed by his Lord.'  So now I accept 
your proposal to me, and if you act perfidiously towards me, your perfidy 
will be the means of your destruction." Then the wolf raised himself upright 
in the pit, and took the fox upon his shoulders, so that his head reached 
the surface of the ground.  The fox thereupon sprang from the wolf's 
shoulders, and found himself upon the face of the earth, when he fell down 
senseless. The wolf now said to him, "O my friend! forget not my case, nor 
delay my deliverance."
The fox, however, uttered a loud laugh, and replied, "O you deceived! it was 
nothing but my
jesting with thee and deriding thee that entrapped me into your power; for 
when I heard your profession of repentance, joy excited me, and I was moved 
with delight, and danced, and my tail hung down into the pit; so you did 
pull me, and I fell by thee.  Then God (whose name be exalted!) delivered me 
from your hand.  Wherefore, then, should I not aid in your destruction when 
you art of the associates of the devil? Know that I dreamt yesterday that I 
was dancing at your wedding, and I related the dream to an interpreter, who 
said to me, 'You wilt fall into a frightful danger, and escape from it.'  So 
I knew that my falling into your power and my escape was the interpretation 
of my dream.  You, too, know, O deceived idiot! That I am your enemy.  How, 
then, do you hope, with your little sense and your ignorance, that I will 
deliver thee, when you have heard what rude language I used? And how shall I 
endeavor to deliver thee, when the learned have said that by the death of 
the sinner are produced ease to man-kind and purgation of the earth? Did I 
not fear that I should suffer, by fidelity to thee, such affliction as would 
be greater than that which may result from perfidy, I would consider upon 
means for your deliverance."  So when the wolf heard the words of the fox, 
he bit his paw in repentance.  He then spoke softly to him, but obtained 
nothing thereby.  With a low voice he said to him, "Verily, you tribe of 
foxes are the sweetest of people in tongue, and the most pleasant in 
jesting, and this is jesting in thee; but every time is not convenient for 
sport and joking."  "O idiot!" replied the fox, "jesting has a limit which 
its employer trans-gress not.  Think not that God will give thee possession 
of me after He has delivered me from your power." The wolf then said to him, 
"You art one in whom it is proper to desire my liberation, on account of the 
former brotherhood and friendship that subsisted between us; and if you 
deliver me, I will certainly recompense thee well" But the fox replied, "The 
sages have said, 'Take not as your brother the ignorant and wicked, for he 
will disgrace thee, and not honor thee; and take not as your brother the 
liar, for if good proceed from thee he will hide it, and if evil proceed 
from thee he will publish it!'  And the sages have said, 'For every-thing 
there is a stratagem, excepting death; and
everything may be rectified excepting the corruption of the very essence; 
and everything may be repelled excepting destiny.'  And as to the recompense 
which you assert that I deserve of thee, I compare thee, in your 
recompensing, to the serpent fleeing from the Hawee, when a man saw her in a 
state of terror, and said to her, 'What is the matter with thee, O serpent?'  
She answered, 'I have fled from the Hawee, for he seeks me; and if you 
deliver me from him, and conceal me with thee, I will recompense thee well, 
and do thee every kindness.' So the man took her, to obtain the reward, and 
eager for the recompense, and put her into his pocket; and when the Hawee 
had passed and gone his way, and what she feared had quitted her, the man 
said to her, 'Where is the recompense, for I have saved thee from that which 
you feared and did dread?' The serpent answered him, 'Tell me in what member 
I shall bite thee; for you know that we exceed not this recompense.'  She 
then inflicted upon him a bite, from which he died. And thee, O idiot!" con' 
tinned the fox, "I compare to that serpent with that man.  Have you not 
heard the saying of the poet?-

"'Trust not a person in whose heart you have made anger to dwell, nor think 
his anger has ceased.
Verily, the vipers, though smooth to the touch, show graceful motions, and 
hide mortal poison."'

"O eloquent and comely-faced animal!" rejoined the wolf, "be not ignorant of 
my condition, and of the fear with which mankind regard me.  You know that I 
assault the strong places, and strip the vines.  Do, therefore, what I have 
commanded thee, and attend to me as the slave attended to his master." "O 
ignorant idiot who seek what is vain!" exclaimed the fox, " verily I wonder 
at your stupidity, and at the roughness of your manner, in your ordering me 
to serve thee and to stand before thee as though I were a slave.  But you 
shall soon see what will befall thee; by the splitting of your head with 
stones, and the breaking of your treacherous dog-teeth."
The fox then stationed himself upon a mound
	overlooking the vineyard, and cried out incessantly to the people of 
the vineyard until they perceived him and came quickly to him.  He remained 
steady before them until they drew near unto him, and unto the pit in which 
was the wolf, and then he fled.  So the owners of the vineyard looked into 
the pit, and when they beheld the wolf in it, they instantly pelted him with 
heavy stones, and continued throwing stones and pieces of wood upon him, and 
piercing him with the points of spears, until they killed him, when they 
departed. Then the fox returned to the pit, and standing over the place of 
the wolf's slaughter, saw him dead; whereupon he shook his head in the 
excess of his joy, and recited these verses-

	"Fate removed the wolf's soul, and it was snatched
away.
	Far distant from happiness be his soul that has perished.
	How long have you striven, Abos Tirhan, to destroy me!
	But now have burning calamities befallen thee.
	You have fallen into a pit into which none shall de-scend without 
finding in it the blasts of death."

After this the fox remained in the vineyard -alone, and in security, fearing 
no mischief.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE JOGIE.

IT is related that during the reign of a king of Cutch, named Lakeh, a Jogie 
lived, who was a wise man, and wonderfully skilled in the preparation of 
herbs.  For years he had been occupied in search-ing for a peculiar kind of 
grass, the roots of which
should be burnt, and a man be thrown into the flames. The body so burnt 
would become gold, and any of the members might be removed without the
body sustaining any loss, as the parts so taken would always be self-
restored.
It so occurred that this Jogie, whilst following a flock of goats, observed 
one amongst them eating of the grass he was so anxious to procure.  He imme-
diately rooted it up, and desired the shepherd who was near to assist him in 
procuring firewood. When he had collected the wood and kindled a flame, into 
which the grass was thrown, the Jogie, wishing to render the shepherd the 
victim of his avarice, desired him, under some pretence, to make
a few circuits round the fire.  The man, however, suspecting foul play, 
watched his opportunity, and,
seizing the Jogie himself, he threw him into the fire and left him to be 
consumed. Next day, on return-ing to the spot, great was his surprise to. 
behold the golden figure of a man lying amongst the embers. He immediately 
chopped off one of the limbs and hid it.  The next day he returned to take 
another, when his astonishment was yet greater to see that a fresh limb had 
replaced the one already taken.  In short, the shepherd soon became wealthy, 
and re-vealed the secret of his riches to the king, Lakeh, who, by the same 
means, accumulated so much gold that every day he was in the habit of giving 
one lac and twenty-five thousand rupees in alms to fakirs.

THE PERFIDIOUS VIZIER.

A KING of former times had an only son, whom he contracted in marriage to 
the daughter of another king.  But the damsel, who was endowed with great 
beauty, had a cousin who had sought her in marriage, and had been rejected; 
wherefore he sent great presents to the vizier of the king just men-tioned, 
requesting him to employ some stratagem by which to destroy his master's 
son, or to induce him to relinquish the damsel.  The vizier consented Then 
the father of the damsel sent to the king's son, inviting him to come and 
introduce himself to his daughter, to take her as his wife; and the father 
of the young man sent him with the treacherous vizier, attended by a 
thousand horse-men, and provided with rich presents.  When they were 
proceeding over the desert, the vizier remem-bered that there was near unto 
them a spring of water called 
Ez-zahra, and that whosoever drank of it, if he were a man, became a woman.  
He there-fore ordered the troops to alight near it, and induced the prince 
to go thither with him. When they arrived at the spring, the king's son dis-
mounted from his courser, and washed his hands, and drank; and lo! he became 
a woman; where-upon he cried out and wept until he fainted. The vizier asked 
him what had befallen him, so the young man informed him; and on hearing his 
words, the vizier affected to be grieved for him, and wept.  The king's son 
then sent the vizier back to his father to inform him of this event, 
determining not to proceed nor to return until his affliction should be 
removed from him, or until he should die.
	     He remained by the fountain during a period of three days and 
nights3 neither eating nor drinking, and on the fourth night there came to 
him a horse-man with a crown upon his head, appearing like one of the sons 
of the kings. This horseman said to him, "Who brought you, O young man, unto 
this place?"  So the young man told him his story; and when the horseman 
heard it, he pitied him, and said to him, "The vizier of your father is the 
person who has thrown thee into this calamity; for no one of mankind knows 
of this spring excepting one man."  Then the horseman ordered him to mount 
with him. He therefore mounted; and the horseman said to him, "Come with me 
to my abode: for you art my guest this night." The young man replied, 
"Inform me who you art before I go with thee.” And the horseman said, "I am 
the son of a king of the Jinn, and you art son of a king of mankind. And 
now, be of good heart and cheerful eye on account of that which shall dispel 
your anxiety and your grief, for it is unto me easy."
	     So the young man proceeded with him from the commencement of 
the day, forsaking his troops and soldiers (whom the vizier had left at 
their halting-place), and ceased not to travel on with his con-ductor until 
midnight, when the son of the king of the Jinn said to him, "Knows you what 
space we have traversed during this period?"  The young man answered him, "I 
know not."  The son of the king of the Jinn said, "We have traversed a space 
of a year's journey to him who travels with diligence."  So the young man 
wondered thereat, and asked, "How shall I return to my family?" The other 
answered, "This is not your affair.  It is my affair; and when you shall 
have recovered from your misfortune, you shall return to your family in less 
time than the twinkling of an eye, for to accomplish that will be to me 
easy.  The young man, on hearing these words from the Jinnee, almost flew 
with excessive delight.  He thought that the event was a result of confused 
dreams, and said, "Extolled be the perfection of him who is able to restore 
the wretched, and render him prosperous!" They ceased not to proceed until 
morning, when they arrived at a verdant, bright land, with tall trees, and 
warbling birds, and gardens of surpassing beauty, and fair palaces; and 
thereupon the son of the king of the Jinn alighted from his courser, 
commanding the young man also to dismount. He therefore dismounted, and the 
Jinnee took him by the hand, and they entered one of the palaces, where the 
young man beheld an exalted king and a sultan of great dignity, and he 
remained with them that day, eating and drinking, until the approach of 
night.  Then the son of the king of the Jinn arose and mounted with him, and 
they went forth, and proceeded during the night with diligence until the 
morning.  And lo! they came to a black land, not inhabited, abounding with 
black rocks and stones, as though it were a part of hell; whereupon the son 
of the king of men said to the Jinnee, "What is the name of this land ?"  
And he answered, "It is called the Dusky Land, and belongs to one of the 
kings of the Jinn, whose name is Zu-Jenaheyn. None of the kings can attack 
him, nor do any one enter his territory unless by his permission, so stop in 
your place while I ask his permission." Accord-ingly the young man stopped, 
and the Jinn was absent from him for a while, and then returned to him; and 
they ceased not to proceed until they came to a spring flowing from black 
mountains.  The Jinnee said to the young man, "Alight."  He therefore 
alighted from his courser, and the Jinnee said to him, "Drink of this 
spring."
The young prince drank of it, and immediately became again a man, as he was 
at first, by the power of God (whose name be exalted!), whereat he rejoiced 
with great joy, not to be exceeded. And he said to the Jinn, " O my brother, 
what is the name of this spring?" The Jinnee answered, "It is called the 
Spring of the Women: no woman drinks of it but she becomes a man; therefore 
praise God, and thank Him for your restoration, and mount your courser."   
So the king's son prostrated himself, thanking God (whose name be exalted 
I).  Then he mounted, and they journeyed with diligence during the rest of 
the day until they had returned to the land of the Jinnee, and the young man 
passed the night in his abode in the most comfortable manner; after which 
they ate and drank until the next night, when the son of the king of the 
Jinn said to him, "Do you desire to return to your family this night?" The 
young man answered, "Yes." So the son of the king of the Jinn called one of 
his father's slaves, whose name was Rajiz, and said to him, "Take this young 
man hence, and carry him upon your shoulders, and let not the dawn overtake 
him before he is with his father-in4aw and his wife." The slave replied, "I 
hear and obey, and with feelings of love and honor will I do it." Then the 
slave absented himself for a while, and approached in the form of an 
'Efreet. And when the young man saw him his reason fled, and he was 
stupefied; but the son of the king of the Jinn said to him, "No harm shall 
befall thee.  Mount your courser.  Ascend upon his shoulders."  The young 
man then mounted upon the slave's shoulders, and the son of the king of the 
Jinn said to him, "Close your eyes."  So he closed his eyes, and the slave 
flew with him between heaven and earth, and ceased not to fly along with him 
while the young man was unconscious, and the last third of the night came 
not before he was on the top of the palace of his father-in-law.  Then the 
'Efreet said to him, "Might."  He therefore alighted.  And the 'Efreet said 
to him, "Open your eyes; for this is the palace of your father-in-law and 
his daughter."  Then he left him and departed. And as soon as the day shone, 
and the alarm of the young man subsided, he descended from the roof of the 
palace; and when his father-in-law beheld him, he rose to him and met him, 
wondering at seeing him descend from the top of the palace, and he said to 
him, "We see other men come through the doors, but you comes down from the 
sky."  The young man replied, "What God (whose perfection be extolled, and 
whose name be exalted!) desired has happened." And when the sun rose, his 
father-in-law ordered his vizier to prepare great banquets, and the wedding 
was celebrated; the young man remained there two months, and then departed 
with his wife to the city of his father. But as to the cousin of the damsel, 
he perished by reason of his jealousy and envy.