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A few days after this event King Huntsman went to the forest, and after hunting all day returned home in the evening Having washed his hands and feet, he sat down to his meal of boiled rice. When the rice was being served to the king a few grains fell on the ground, and a fly and an ant began to dispute as to who should carry them away. The fly said, "I will take them to my children." The ant replied, "No, I will take them to mine." Hearing the two talk thus, the king was amused, and began to smile. The queen, who was standing by, said to him, "Tell me what has made you laugh." On being thus addressed the king became greatly confused, for at the time the gift of understanding the language of animals and insects was bestowed upon him, King Monsha had forbidden him to make it known to any one. He had said, "If you tell this to any one, I shall eat you." Remembering this the king feared to answer the question put to him by the queen. He tried to deceive her by saying, "I did not laugh, you must have been mistaken." She would not, however, be thus put off, so the king was obliged to tell her that if he answered her question his life would be forfeited. The queen was inexorable, and said, "Whether you forfeit your life or not, you must tell me." The king then said, "Well, if it must be so, let us make ready to go to the bank of the Ganges. There I shall tell you, and when I have done so you must push me into the river, and then return home."

The king armed himself, and the two set out for the river. When they had reached it, they sat down to rest under the shade of a tree. A flock of goats was grazing near to where they were seated, and the king's attention was arrested by a conversation which was being carried on between an old she-goat and a young he-goat. The former addressed the latter thus, "There is an island in the middle of the Ganges, and on that island there is a large quantity of good sweet grass. Get the grass for me, and I shall give you my daughter in marriage." The he-goat was not thus to be imposed upon. He angrily addressed his female friend as follows, "Do not think to make me like this foolish king, who vainly tries to please a woman. He has come here to lose his own life at the bidding of one. You tell me to go and bring you grass out of such a flood as this. I am no such fool. I do not care to die yet. There are many more quite as good as your daughter."

The king understood what passed between them, and admitted to himself the truth of what the he-goat had said. After considering a short time he arose, and having made a rude sacrificial altar, said to the queen, "Kneel down, and do me obeisance, and I shall tell you what made me laugh." She knelt down, and the king struck off her head and burnt her body upon the altar. Returning home he performed her funeral ceremonies, after which he married another wife.

He reigned prosperously for many years, and decided all disputes that were brought before him by animals or insects.

The Story Of Bitaram.

In a certain village there lived seven brothers. The youngest of them planted a certain vegetable, and went every day to examine it to see how it was growing. For a long time there were only the stalk and leaves, but at length a flower appeared, and from it a fruit. This fruit he measured daily to mark its growth. It grew continuously until it became exactly a span long, after which it remained stationary. One day he said to his sisters-in-law, "Do not eat my fruit, for whoever does so will give birth to a child only one span long." He continued his daily visits to his plant as usual, and was pleased to note that the fruit was evidently ripening. One day, during his absence, one of his sisters-in-law plucked the fruit and ate it. On returning from the field where he had been ploughing, he went to look at and measure his fruit, but it was gone, it had been stolen. Suspecting that some one of his sisters-in-law was the thief, he accused each of them in turn, but they all denied having touched it. When he found that no one would confess to having taken it, he said to them, "Do not tell upon yourselves, the thief will be caught before long." And so it happened, for one of them gave birth to a baby one span long. The first time he saw his sister-in-law after the child was born he laughed, and said to her, "You denied having stolen my fruit, now you see I have found you out."

When the time came that the child should receive a name, Bitaram [2] was given to him, because he was only a span in height. Bitaram's mother used to take food to the brothers to the field when they were ploughing, and when Bitaram was able to walk so far he accompanied her. One day he surprised his mother by saying, "Let me take the food to my father and uncles to-day." She replied, "What a fancy! You, child, are only a span high, how can you carry it?" But Bitaram insisted saying, "I can carry it well enough, and carry it I will." His mother being unable to resist his pertinacity said, "Then, child, take it, and be off." So she placed the basket on his head and he set out. Arrived at the field he went up a furrow, but the ground was so uneven that before he reached his destination, he had lost nearly all the rice, which had been shaken out of the basket. On his coming near, one of his uncles called out, "Is that you Bitaram?" He replied, "Yes, it is I, Bitaram." Climbing up out of the furrow, he put down the basket saying, "Help yourselves, and I will take the oxen and buffaloes to the water." So saying, he drove off the cattle to the river. When they had quenched their thirst he gathered them together, and began to drive them back again to where he had left his father and uncles. While following them up the sandy back of the river, he fell into a depression made by the hoof of a buffalo, and was soon covered up by the loose sand sent rolling down by the herd as they ascended.

When the cattle returned without Bitaram, his father and uncles became alarmed for his safety, and immediately went in search of him. They went here and there calling out "Bitaram, where are you?" But failing to find him they concluded that he had been devoured by some wild animal, and returned sorrowfully home. Rain fell during the night, and washed the sand from off Bitaram, so that he was able to get up, and climb out. On his way home he encountered some thieves who were dividing their booty in a lonely part of the forest. Bitaram hearing them disputing called out "Kehe kere" at the pitch of his voice. The thieves hearing the sound, looked round on all sides to see who was near, but the night being dark, and they not directing their eyes near enough to the ground to see Bitaram, they could discern no one. Then they said to each other, "Let us seek safety in flight. A spirit has been sent to watch us." So they all made off leaving behind them the brass vessels they had stolen. Bitaram gathered these up, and hid them among some prickly bushes, and then went home.

It was now past midnight, and all had retired to rest, and as Bitaram stood shivering with cold at the closed door, he called out, "Open the door and let me in." His father hearing him said, "Is that you Bitaram?" He replied, "Yes, open the door." They then enquired where he had been, and he related all that had happened to him after he had driven the cattle to the river. Having warmed himself at the fire, he told his father of his adventure with the thieves in the forest. He said, "I despoiled some thieves, whom I met in the jungle, of the brass vessels they had stolen." His father replied, "Foolish child, do not tell lies, you yourself are not the height of a brass lota" (drinking-cup). "No father," said Bitaram, "I am telling the truth, come and I will shew you where they are." His father and uncles went with him, and he pointed out to them the vessels hidden among the prickly bushes. They picked them all up and brought them home.

Early next morning some sepoys, who were searching for the thieves, happened to pass that way, and seeing the stolen property lying out side of the house, recognized it, and apprehended Bitaram's father and uncles and dragged them off to prison. After this Bitaram and his mother were obliged to beg their bread from house to house. She often attributed to him the misery which had befallen them, saying, "Had it not been for your pertinacity, your father and uncles would not have been deprived of their liberty."

One day, as they were following their usual avocation, they entered a certain house, and Bitaram said to his mother, "Ask the people of the house to give me a tumki. [3]" She did not at first comply, but he kept urging her until being irritated she said, "It was through your pertinacity in insisting upon being allowed to carry the food to your father and uncles that they are now bound and in prison, and yet you will not give up the bad habit." Bitaram said, "No, mother, do ask it for me." As he would not be silenced she begged it for him, and the people kindly gave it.

At the next house they came to, they saw a cat walking about, and Bitaram said, "Oh mother, ask the people to give me the cat." As before, she at first refused, but he continued to press her, and she becoming annoyed scolded him saying, "The young gentleman insists on obtaining this and that. It was your pertinacity that caused your father and uncles to be dragged to prison in bonds." Bitaram replied, "Not so, mother, do ask them to give me the cat." As the only way to silence him she said to the people of the house, "Give my boy your cat, he will hold it in his arms for a few minutes, and then set it down, but he carried it away with him." Bitaram then begged his mother to make him a bag, and fill it with flour, saying, "I am going to obtain the release of my father and uncles." She mockingly replied, "Much you can do." She made him a bag, however, and filling it with flour said, "Be off."

Bitaram then strapped the bag of flour on the cat's back as a saddle, and mounted. Puss, however, refused to go in the direction desired, and it was with great difficulty that he prevailed upon her to take the road. As he rode along he observed a swarm of bees on an ant hill, and dismounting he addressed them as follows, "Come bees, go in, come bees, go in." The bees swarmed into the tumki, and Bitaram having covered them up with a leaf continued his journey. Before he had gone far he came to a large tank, which belonged to the raja who had imprisoned his father. A number of women had come to the tank for water, and Bitaram taking his stand upon the embankment began to shoot arrows at their waterpots. After he had broken several, the women espied him mounted on his cat with his bow and arrows in his hand, and believing him to be an elf from the forest fled in terror to the city. Going to the raja they said "Oh raja, come and see. Some one is on the tank embankment. We do not know who or what he is, but he is only a span high." The raja then summoned his soldiers, and commanded them to take their bows and arrows, and go and shoot him whoever he was. The soldiers went within range, but although they shot away all their arrows, they failed to hit him. So returning to the raja they said, "He cannot be shot." Hearing this the raja became angry, and calling for his bow and arrows, went to the tank and began to shoot at Bitaram, but although he persevered until his right side ached with drawing the bow, he could not hit him.

When he desisted, Bitaram called out "Are you exhausted?" The raja answered "Yes." Then said Bitaram "It is my turn now," and taking the leaf from off the mouth of the basket called to the bees, "Go into the battle, bees." The bees issued from the basket like a black rope, and stung the raja and those who were with him. No way of escape offering, the raja called out to Bitaram, "Call off your bees, and I will give you the half of my kingdom and my daughter, and I will also set at liberty your father and uncles." Bitaram gathered the bees into the basket, and after his father and uncles had been released, took them back to the ant hill from whence he had brought them. On his return he wedded the princess and received half of her father's kingdom.

Bitaram and his wife lived happily together, and every thing they took in hand prospered, so that before long they were richer than the king himself. One great source of Bitaram's wealth was a cow which the princess had brought him as part of her dowry. Being envious of their good fortune, the raja and his sons resolved to kill the cow, and thus obtain possession of all the gold and silver. So they put the cow to death, but when they had cut her up they were disappointed as neither gold nor silver were found in her stomach.

Bitaram placed his cow's hide in the sun, and when it was dry carried it away to sell it. Darkness coming on he climbed into a tree for safety, as wild beasts infested the forest through which he was passing. During the night some thieves came under the tree in which he was, and began to divide the money they had stolen. Bitaram then relaxed his hold of the dry hide, which made such a noise as it fell from branch to branch that the thieves fled terror-stricken, and left all their booty behind them. In the morning Bitaram descended, and collecting all the rupees carried them home. He then shewed the money to his wife, and said "Go and ask the loan of your father's paila, that I may measure them." So she went and brought the measure, which had several cracks in it. Having measured his money he sent back the raja's paila, but he had not noticed that one or two pieces were left sticking in the cracks. So they said to him, "Where did you get the money?" He replied "By the sale of my cow's hide." Hearing this they said, "Will the merchant who bought yours, buy any more?" He said, "Yes. I received all this money for my one hide, how much more may not you receive seeing you have such large herds of cattle! If you dispose of their hides at the same rate as I have done, you will secure immense wealth." So they killed all their cattle, but when they offered the hides for sale they found they had been hoaxed. They were ashamed and angry at having allowed themselves to be thus imposed upon by Bitaram, and in revenge they set fire to his house at night, but he crept into a rat's hole and so escaped injury. In the morning he emerged from his hiding place, and carefully gathering up the ashes of his house tied them up in a cloth, and carried them away. As he walked along he met a merchant, to whom he said, "What have you in your bag?" He replied "Gold-pieces only." The merchant then enquired of Bitaram what he had tied up in his cloth, to which he answered, "Gold-dust only." Bitaram then said, "Will you exchange?" The merchant said, "Yes." So they exchanged, and Bitaram returned laden with gold. Not being able to count it, he again sent his wife to borrow her father's paila, and having measured the gold-pieces returned it to him. This time a few pieces of gold remained in the cracks in the paila, and the raja, being informed of it, went and asked Bitaram where he got the gold. He replied, "I sold the ashes of my house which you burnt over my head, and received the gold in return." The raja and his sons then enquired if the merchant, who bought the ashes from him, would buy any more. Bitaram replied, "Yes, he will buy all he can get." "Do you think," said they, "he will buy from us?" Bitaram advised them to burn their houses, and like him, turn the ashes into gold. "I had only one small house," he said, "and I obtained all this money. You have larger houses, and should therefore receive a correspondingly large amount." So they set fire to, and burnt their houses, and gathering up the ashes took them to the bazar, and there offered them for sale. After they had gone the whole length of the bazar, and had met with no buyers, some one advised them to go to where the washermen lived, saying, they might possibly take them. The washermen, however, refused, and as they could not find a purchaser, they threw away the ashes, and returned home determined to be revenged upon Bitaram.

This time they decided upon drowning him, so one day they seized him, and putting him into a bag they carried him to the river. Arrived there they put him down, and went to some little distance to cook their food. In the meantime a herd boy came up and asked Bitaram why he was tied up in the bag. He replied, "They are taking me away to marry me against my will." The herd boy said, "I will go instead of you. I wish to be married." Bitaram replied, "Open the bag and let me out, and you get in, and I will tie it up again." So Bitaram was released, and the herd boy took his place, and was afterwards thrown into the river and drowned.

Bitaram on escaping collected all the herd boy's cattle, and drove them home. When the raja and his sons returned, they found Bitaram with a large herd of cows and buffaloes. Going near, they enquired where he had got them. He replied, "At some distance below the spot where you threw me into the river, I found numerous herds of cattle, so I brought away as many as one person could drive. If you all go, you will be able to bring a very much larger number." So they said, "Very well, put us into bags, and tie us up as we did you." Bitaram replied, "It is impossible for me to carry you as you did me. Walk to the river bank, and there get into the bags, and I will push you into the river." They did as he suggested, and when all was in readiness, he pushed them into the river, and they were all drowned.

Bitaram returned alone, and took possession of all that had belonged to them. The whole kingdom became his, and he reigned peacefully as long as he lived.

The Story Of Sit And Bosont.

There was a certain raja who had two sons named Sit and Bosont. Their mother the rani had been long ill, and the raja was greatly dejected on her account. From the bed on which she lay, the rani could see two sparrows who had made their nest in a hole in the wall of the palace, and she had remarked the great love and tenderness which the hen-sparrow bore towards her young ones. One day she saw both sparrows sitting in front of their nest, and the sight of them set her a-thinking, and she came to the conclusion that the hen-sparrow was a model mother. The raja also had his attention attracted daily by the sparrows. One day, very suddenly, the hen-sparrow took ill, and died. The next day the cock-sparrow appeared with another mate, and sat in front of the nest with her, as he had done with the other. But the new mother took no notice of the young ones in the nest, but left them to die of hunger. The rani, who was greatly grieved to see such want of compassion, said to the raja, "This is how it is, one has no pity for those who belong to another. Remember what you have been a witness of, and should I die take care of the two children." Shortly after this the rani died, and the raja mourned over her, and continued most solicitous for the welfare of their two boys.

Some months after the rani's death, the raja's subjects prayed him to take another wife, saying, "Without a rani your kingdom is incomplete." The raja refused to comply, saying, "I shall never take another wife." His subjects would not, however, be silenced, but continued to press the matter upon him with such persistency that eventually he had to accede to their wishes, and take to himself another partner. He continued, however, to love and cherish his two sons Sit and Bosont.

Some time after their marriage the rani took a dislike to the elder son Sit, and was determined that he should no longer be allowed to remain within the precincts of the palace. So she feigned sickness, and the raja summoned physicians from all parts of his dominions, but without avail, as none of them could tell what the disease was from which the rani was suffering. One day when Sit and Bosont were out of the way, and the raja and she were alone together, she said to him, "Doctors and medicines will not save my life, but if you will listen to me, and do what I tell you, I shall completely recover." The raja said, "Let me hear what it is, and I shall try what effect it may have." The rani said, "If you will promise to do for me what I shall request, I will tell you, and not otherwise." The raja replied, "I shall certainly comply with your wishes." The rani again said, "Will you without doubt, do what I wish?" The raja replied, "Yes, I shall." After she had made him promise a third time she said, "Will you take oath that you will not seek to evade fulfilling my desire?" The raja said, "I take my oath that I shall carry out your wishes to the full extent of my ability." Having thus prevailed upon the raja to pledge his word of honour, she said, "Do not allow your eldest son, Sit, to remain any longer in the palace. Order him to leave, and go somewhere else, so that I may not see his face, and never to return."

On hearing this the raja was greatly distressed. But what could he do? The rani had said, "If you permit him to remain, I shall die, and if you fulfil my wishes I shall live," and in his anxiety to save the life of his rani, he had bound himself by an oath before he knew what it was he would be required to do. After much consideration as to how he could best communicate the order to leave the palace to his son, he decided to write it on a sheet of paper and fix it, during his absence, to the door of his room. When the brothers returned, they found the paper placed there by the raja, and on reading it, were greatly troubled. After some time, during which Sit had been considering the position in which he found himself, he said to his brother, "You must remain, and I must go." On hearing his brother's words, Bosont's heart was filled with sorrow, and he replied, "Not so, I cannot see you go away alone. You have been guilty of no fault for which our parents could send you away. I cannot remain here alone. I will accompany you. We are children of the same mother, and we should not part." His brother replied, "Let us leave the house to-day. We can pass the night in some place close at hand." So they left their father's house, and concealed themselves in its vicinity. On the approach of evening they began to feel the pangs of hunger, and the younger said to the elder, "What shall we do? We have no food." After a minute's thought, the elder replied, "Although we have been sent adrift, we will take our elephants, and horses, and clothes, and money along with us." So when night had fallen, they entered the palace and brought out all that belonged to them, and at cock-crow, set forth on their journey. They travelled all day, and as the sun began to decline, they reached a dense jungle, and passing through it they came to a large city where they put up for the night. The city pleased them much, and they hired quarters in the Sarai. After they had gained a little acquaintance with their surroundings, Sit, attired in gorgeous apparel, and mounted on a splendid horse, rode every evening through the principal streets of the city. One evening the daughter of the raja of that country, from the roof of the palace, saw him ride past, and fell deeply in love with him. She immediately descended to her room, and feigning sickness, threw herself upon her couch. Her parents, on entering, found her weeping bitterly, and on enquiring the cause were informed by her attendants that she had been suddenly seized with a dangerous illness, the nature of which they did not know. The raja at once summoned the most famed physicians that could be found, to cure his daughter. One after another, however, failed to understand her complaint, and she grew worse daily. She was heard continually wailing, "I shall never recover; I shall die." After the doctors had retired baffled, she addressed her parents as follows; "You, who gave me life, listen to my entreaty. There is one expedient still, which if you will agree to put into execution, I shall recover, and be as well as formerly, and should you refuse to do as I say, and call it foolishness, then you shall never see my face again, I shall depart this life at once." On hearing these words, her parents said, "Tell us, what it is, we will surely act agreeably to your wishes." She replied, "Oh! father, promise me that you will carry them out without reserve." Her parents then promised with an oath, that they would do all she desired. Then she told her story, "Of late we have daily seen a young man in dazzling white apparel, riding and curveting his horse through the city; if you betroth me to that young prince, I shall enjoy my accustomed health again."

On hearing this, her parents became greatly distressed, as they were averse to betrothing their daughter to a stranger of whom they knew nothing. After consulting together they said, "He comes this way in the evening, let us look out for him, and see what he is like." About sunset, Sit, mounted on his horse, rode in the direction of the palace. The raja had given orders to some of his attendants to arrest the man who, every evening dressed in white, rode past the palace. So, on his appearing, they laid hold of him and led him into the presence of the raja, who being pleased with his appearance, at once introduced him to his daughter's room. She, on beholding him, instantly became well, and that same evening the two were married.

Bosont having charge of the property remained in the Sarai, while his brother went out riding. Sit not returning at his usual time, Bosont was alarmed and waited anxiously for his return. At length, being wearied, he fell asleep. During the night a gang of thieves entered his room, and began to carry off all his valuables. Bosont slept so soundly that they had time to take away everything save his bed-clothes. To obtain possession of these they had to lift him, on which he awoke and gave the alarm. The thieves beat him with their clubs till he was half dead; then, senseless and with a broken leg, they threw him into the dry bed of a river.

In the morning his servants became aware of the robbery, and also that their master was missing. His groom found him some time after in the river bed, and carried him to a doctor who bound up his limb, and took care of him. He was soon well enough to move about, but doomed to halt through life.

The raja of that country was very wealthy, and had ships on the sea. Whenever a ship left the port on its outward voyage, it was customary to carry a man on board, who, on the rising of a storm at sea, was cast over board to appease to wrath of the Spirit of the mighty Deep. Without such a victim on board, no ship could leave the harbour. Now, it so happened that one of the raja's vessels was about to sail to a foreign port, but no man suitable for the sacrifice could be obtained. At last the raja ordered them to take the lame man, whom he had seen limping about the city. He, not knowing the purpose they had in view in asking him to accompany them on their voyage, gladly embraced the opportunity of seeing foreign lands. No sooner was he on board than the ship began to move, and to obtain a better view he climbed up the mast, and sat on the top of it. In twelve days they reached a port. Bosont, however, did not decend from his elevated station, but continued gazing on the country lying around.

The daughter of the raja of that city, while walking on the roof of the palace, enjoying the cool of the evening, saw Bosont seated on the ship's mast. She at once fell violently in love with him, and descending to her room, feigned sickness. Her parents called in the most famed physicians, but their skill was of no avail, the young lady's illness increased in intensity. At last, when her parents began to give up hope of saving her life, she said, "The doctors cannot do me any good, but if you will do as I direct you, I shall recover." They said, "Tell us what it is that we can do for you." She replied, "Before I can make it known to you, you must take oath that you will not seek to evade the performance of it." To this they agreed, and the princess said, "If you will betroth me to the man sitting on the top of the mast of the vessel in the harbour, I shall immediately regain my health." The raja despatched messengers to the ship, and had Bosont brought to the palace, and solemnized their marriage that same evening.

A few days after the above occurrence, the ship was ready to set sail on her homeward voyage, so they took the lame man on board, his wife also following. After they had been a few days at sea, the vessel was in danger of foundering in a storm. The sailors searched for the victim, but he could nowhere be found. At last one of the crew looking up, spied him seated on the mast and climbing swiftly up, pushed him into the sea. His wife had brought a tumba with her, and seeing her husband in the sea, threw it to him. With this assistance he was able to swim to the vessel, and laying hold of the stern, followed swimming all the way to port. When the vessel was brought to anchor, he climbed up into it, and disguised himself as a fakir. The people of the city noticed him daily walking on the shore in front of the ship, and believed him to be in reality a fakir.

One day the raja seeing Bosont's wife took a fancy to her, and caused her to be brought to his palace. She had apartments assigned to her in the best part of it, and was treated with great distinction. On the raja offering her marriage, she declined, saying, "Speak not to me of it." After several days the raja enquired, "Why do you still refuse to become my wife." She replied, "Ask the fakir who is always to be seen pacing the shore in front of a vessel lying in the harbour." The raja gave orders immediately to have the fakir brought to the palace. On his being ushered into his presence, the raja said, "What do you know regarding the woman, who on declining to be my wife, referred me to you for an explanation?" In reply Bosont related in the form of a fable, the history of Sit and himself, and also what befell him after they were parted from each other. Sit, who was now raja recognized his brother in the fakir before him, and falling on his neck, wept for joy. The two brothers continued ever after to live together.

The Story Of A Tiger.

A certain man had charge of a number of cattle. One day he took them to graze near a quagmire, and leaving them there went in search of jungle fruits. It so happened that one of the bullocks was browsing on the edge of the quagmire when a tiger came creeping stealthily up, and sprang upon it, but somehow or other missed his mark, and fell into the quagmire and there stuck fast. When the herd come to drive his cattle home, he found the tiger fast in the mud, and called a large number of people to come and see him. The tiger addressed those who came to gaze upon him as follows, "Oh men, pull me out. I am in great straits." They replied, "We will not pull you out even to save your life. You are a ravenous animal." The tiger said, "I will not eat you." So they pulled him out. When he was again on dry land, he said, "I will devour you, for it is my nature to do so." They replied, "Will you really eat us?" "Yes, I will," said the tiger. "Well," they rejoined, "if you will devour us, what can we do to prevent you? But let us first ask the opinion of some others as to whether it is right for you to eat us or not." So they requested the opinion of all the trees in the forest, and each said, "Human beings are all bad." On asking the Mohwa tree, it replied, "Men are not good. Behold every year I give them my flowers to eat, and my fruit from which to make oil. In the hot weather I give them shade, and on leaving, when they have rested, they give me a parting slash with their axes, therefore it is right to eat these people, as they return evil for good." So said all the trees.

From this forest they went to another in which they found a cow to whom they said, "We are come to ask your opinion on a certain matter about which we are at variance. This tiger was up to the neck in a quagmire, and we pulled him out. Now he wishes to return evil for good. Is it right for him to do so?" The cow replied, "Yes, yes, I have heard what you have got to say. You human beings are not the correct thing. Behold me, how much I have contributed to the health and comfort of my master, yet he does not recognize my merit. Now that I am old, he has turned me out, and should I improve a little in condition, he will say, 'I will take this cow to the market and sell it. I will at least get a few pence for it.' Behold, when a man is well to do, he has many friends, but when he is poor, no one knows him. Verily, you are worthy to be devoured." The tiger then said to the men, "Well, have you heard all this? Are you convinced?" They said, "Hold on, let us ask one person more." So as they walked along they saw a jackal and called to him, "Oh uncle, stand still." The jackal said, "No I cannot wait, my companions, who are on their way to see the swinging festival, are far ahead of me, and I am hurrying to overtake them." They said to him, "Wait a little and settle this matter for us. We pulled this tiger out of a quagmire, and now he wishes to devour us." The jackal then said to the tiger, "Is this true? I cannot believe that a famed individual like yourself would be fool enough to jump into a quagmire. Come, shew me the place, and how it happened." So the tiger led him to the quagmire, and said, "This is the place from which I sprang, and this is how I did it," and he leaped into the quagmire. The jackal turning to the men, said, "What are you staring at? Pelt him with stones." So they all set to and stoned the tiger to death.

Story Of A Lizard, A Tiger, And A Lame Man.

Once upon a time in a certain jungle, a lizard and a tiger were fighting, and a lame man, who was tending goats near by, saw them. The tiger being beaten by the lizard was ashamed to own it, and coming to the lame man said, "Tell me which of us won." The lame man being in great fear lest the tiger should eat him, said, "You won." On another occasion the lizard was compelled to flee, and took refuge in an ant hill. The tiger pursued him, but not being able to get him out, sat down to watch.

The lizard seeing his opportunity, crept stealthily up to his inveterate enemy, and climbing up his tail, fixed his teeth into his haunch, and held firmly on. The tiger felt the pain of the lizard's bite, but could not reach him to knock him off, so he ran to the lame man, and said, "Release me from this lizard." When he had caused the lizard to let go his grip, the tiger said, "Oh lame man, which of us won in the encounter?" The poor man in great fear said, "You won."

The same scene was enacted daily for many days. The tiger always came to the lame man and said, "Knock off this lizard," and after he had done so, would say, "Which of us won?" The lame man invariably replied, "You won." This had happened so often that the lame man began to feel annoyed at having to tell a lie every day to please the tiger. So one day after an ignominious flight on the part of the tiger, he being, as usual, requested to give his opinion as to who won, said, "The lizard had the best of it." On hearing this the tiger became angry, and said, "I shall eat you, my fine fellow, because you say the lizard defeated me. Tell me where you sleep." The poor lame man on hearing the tiger threaten him thus, trembled with fear, and was silent. But the tiger pressed him. He said, "Tell at once, for I shall certainly devour you." The lame man replied, "I sleep in the wall press." When night fell, the tiger set off to eat the lame man, but after searching in the wall press failed to find him. In the morning the lame man led his goats out to graze, and again met the tiger, who addressed him as follows, "You are a great cheat. I did not find you in the wall press last night." The lame man replied, "How is it you did not find me? I was sleeping there." "No," said the tiger, "you were not, you have deceived me. Now, tell me truly where you sleep." "I sleep on a rafter," said the lame man. About midnight the tiger went again in search of him to eat him, but did not find him on the rafter, so he returned home. In the morning the lame man as usual led his goats out to graze, and again encountered the tiger, who said to him, "How now! Where do you sleep? I could not find you last night." The lame man rejoined, "That is strange, I was there all the same." The tiger said, "You are a consummate liar. Now tell me plainly where you sleep at night, for I shall without doubt eat you." The lame man replied, "I sleep in the fire-place." Again the tiger went at night, but could not find him. Next morning he met the lame man, and said to him, "No more tricks, tell me where you sleep." He, thrown off his guard, said, "In the gongo." [4]

The tiger then withdrew to his den to wait till night came on, and the lame man, cursing his indiscretion, with a heavy heart, drove his goats homewards. Having made his charge safe for the night, he sat down feeling very miserable. He refused the food that was set before him, and continued bewailing his hard lot. In the hope of inducing him to eat, they gave him some mohwa wrapped in a sal leaf. This also failed to tempt him to eat; but he carried it with him when he crept into the gongo to sleep. At night the tiger came and lifting up the gongo felt it heavy, and said, "Well, are you inside?" He replied, "Yes, I am." So the tiger carried off the gongo with the lame man in it. By the time the tiger had gone a considerable distance, the lame man became hungry and said within himself, "I shall have to die in the end, but in the meantime I will appease my hunger." So he opened his small parcel of mohwa, and the dry leaf crackled as he did so. The noise frightened the tiger and he said, "What is it you are opening?" The lame man replied, "It is yesterday's lizard." "Hold! hold!" exclaimed the tiger, "Do not let him out yet, let me get clear away first." The lame man said, "Not so, I will not wait, but will let him out at once." The tiger being terrified at the prospect of again meeting his mortal enemy, the redoubtable lizard, threw down the gongo and fled, calling out, "I will not eat you. You have got the lizard with you."

In this way the lame man by means of the lizard saved his life.

The Story Of A Simpleton.

There was once a certain simpleton who had never seen a horse, but had heard that there was such an animal, and that men rode on his back. His curiosity was greatly excited, and he went here and there searching for a horse, so that he might ride on its back. On his way he fell in with a wag, and asked him, what horses were like, where they could be found, and whence were they produced. The wag replied, "They are very large, they are to be had at the weekly market, and they are hatched from eggs." He then asked, "What is the price of the eggs?" The other replied, "Price! They are cheap, one pice each." So one day he went to the market and bought four eggs which he saw exposed for sale, and brought them home with him. He then made preparations for a lengthened absence from his house, and started for the jungle, taking with him rice, a cooking pot and fire, to get the eggs hatched. Having reached the jungle, he placed the eggs to hatch in what turned out to be a tiger's den, and then went some distance off and sat down. After a short time he went to have a look at the eggs, and found one was missing. He was greatly distressed, at having as he fancied lost his horse, and cried out, "It has hatched, and run away somewhere. But what has happened, has happened. What can I do? I'll look out for the next one when it hatches." He then went to cook his rice, and returning after some time missed another of the eggs. He was very much grieved over the loss of the two eggs, and mourning his misfortune, cried, "Where have the two gone, after they came out of the shell? There still, however, remain two eggs." So saying, he returned to finish his cooking. After a few minutes' interval, he went to have a look at the eggs, and saw that another had disappeared; only one remained. His grief at the loss of three horses, was intense. He cried out, "Oh! where shall I find them? Three horses have been hatched, and they have all run away." He then went to where his cooking had been performed, and quickly ate his rice, and returned in all haste to look at his egg. It too was gone. On seeing this, his sorrow and disappointment were acute. He bemoaned his ill luck as follows, "After all the trouble I was at to procure my eggs, they have all hatched, and the horses are lost. But what is, must be. I shall relieve my mind by taking a chew of tobacco." After putting the tobacco into his mouth he noticed the tiger's den, and said, "It is in here, the horses have gone." So he went and broke from a tree a long stick with which he tried to poke his horses out. For some time his labours met with no reward, but at last he succeeded in forcing the tiger out of his den. Just as he was coming out, the simpleton by some chance or other got astride of his back, and called out, "At last I have found a horse." His delight was boundless. But the tiger would not go in the direction of his rider's house, but kept going further into the jungle. The simpleton then struck him about the head and ears saying, "As ghur ghur, as ghur ghur;" [5] nevertheless the tiger plunged deeper into the jungle. At last he bolted into a thicket of trailing plants, where he unseated the simpleton. The tiger having got rid of his rider fled. Afterwards he met a jackal who said to him, "Where away, in such hot haste?" "Uh!" he said, "how much of it can I tell you! I have been greatly harassed, and distressed by As ghur ghur. It was with great difficulty I succeeded in giving him the slip, and now I am fleeing for dear life." The jackal said, "Come along and shew him to me, and I shall soon eat him up." The tiger replied, "Oh dear! no. I cannot go. If he finds me again he will do for me altogether." "Nonsense," said the jackal, "lead me to where he is, and I shall devour him." The tiger was persuaded, and led the way, and the jackal followed. After some little time they met a bear, who said, "Where are you two going?" The jackal gave answer, "This person has somewhere seen As ghur ghur and I am saying to him, 'Take me to where he is, and I shall eat him,' but he will not push ahead." Then the bear said, "Come let us all go together, and I shall eat him up." The tiger said, "I will go no further." The jackal then said, "Listen to me, I will put you upon a plan. Let us hold on by each other's tails, in this way you will have no cause to fear any evil." This suggestion pleased them well, and they cried out, "Yes, let us do that. You have hit upon a first rate expedient." Then the bear took hold of the tiger's tail, and the jackal that of the bear, and in this way they pursued their journey. But just as they drew near the thicket in which the simpleton had been left, the tiger exclaimed, "Look there, he is coming towards us," and being terribly frightened, fled at his utmost speed dragging the bear and jackal after him tearing the skin from off their bodies on the rough stones and gravel. At length the jackal cried out, "Hold on uncle, hold on uncle, you have rubbed all the skin off my body." But he would not halt, but kept dashing on through wood and brake, dragging them after him, until the bear's tail broke, and the jackal was released. His body by this time was all raw flesh, and he was swollen into a round mass. However, he managed to pick himself up, and run for his life.