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Tales Of The Punjab

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After a while she met a stream, and the stream cried out, 'Pretty
Peasie! clear away the sand and dead leaves from my mouth, for I
cannot run when I am stifled!'

'No more you can!' quoth obliging Peasie; and in a trice she made the
channel so clear and clean that the water flowed on swiftly.

At last she arrived, rather tired, at her old father's house, but his
delight at seeing her was so great that he would scarcely let her away
in the evening, and insisted on giving her a spinning-wheel, a
buffalo, some brass pots, a bed, and all sorts of things, just as if
she had been a bride going to her husband. These she put on the
buffalo's back, and set off homewards.

Now, as she passed the stream, she saw a web of fine cloth floating
down.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' tinkled the stream; 'I have carried it
far, as a reward for your kindness.'

So she gathered up the cloth, laid it on the buffalo, and went on her
way.

By and by she passed the _pîpal_ tree, and lo! on the branch she
had tied up hung a string of pearls.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' rustled the _pîpal_; 'I caught it
from a Prince's turban as a reward for your kindness.'

Then she took the pearls, fastened them round her pretty slender
throat, and went on her way rejoicing.

[Illustration: Peasie and her buffalo]

Farther on she came to the fire, burning brightly, and on it was a
girdle with a nice hot sweet-cake.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' crackled the fire; 'I have cooked it to a
turn, in reward for your kindness.'

So lucky Peasie took the nice hot cake, and, dividing it into two
pieces, put one aside for her sister, and ate the other while she went
on her way.

Now when she reached the plum-tree, the topmost branches were bending
down, covered with ripe yellow fruit.

'Take some, Peasie, take some!' groaned the laden tree; 'I have
ripened these as a reward for your kindness.'

So she gathered her veil full, and eating some, set the rest aside for
her sister; but when she arrived at home, instead of being pleased at
her little sister's good fortune and thoughtfulness, disagreeable
Beansie nearly cried with spite and envy, and was so cross, that poor
little sweet Peasie became quite remorseful over her own luck, and
suggested that her sister might be equally fortunate if she also went
to visit her father.

So, next morning, greedy Beansie set off to see what she could get
from the old man. But when she came to the plum-tree, and it cried
out, 'Oh, Beansie! stop a bit and tidy up my thorns a little, there's
a good soul!' the disobliging Beansie tossed her head, and replied, 'A
likely story! Why, I could travel three miles in the time it would
take me to settle up your stupid old thorns! Do it yourself!'

And when she met the _pîpal_ tree, and it asked her to tie up its
broken branch, she only laughed, saying, 'It doesn't hurt _me_,
and I should have walked three miles in the time it would take to set
it right; so ask somebody else!'

Then when the fire said to her, 'Oh, sweet Beansie! tidy up my hearth
a bit, for I am half choked by my ashes,' the unkind girl replied,
'The more fool you for having ashes! You don't suppose I am going to
dawdle about helping people who won't help themselves? Not a bit of
it!'

So when she met the stream, and it asked her to clear away the sand
and the dead leaves which choked it, she replied, 'Do you imagine I'm
going to stop my walk that you may run? No, no!--every one for
himself!'

At last she reached her father's house, full of determination not to
go away without a heavy load for at least two buffaloes, when, just as
she was entering the courtyard, her brother and his wife fell upon
her, and whacked her most unmercifully, crying, 'So this is your plan,
is it? Yesterday comes Peasie, while we were hard at work, and
wheedles her doting old father out of his best buffalo, and goodness
knows what else besides, and to-day _you_ come to rob us! Out of
the house, you baggage!'

With that they hounded her away, hot, tired, bruised, and hungry.

'Never mind!' said she, to console herself, 'I shall get the web of
cloth yet!'

Sure enough, when she crossed the stream, there was a web, three times
as fine as Peasie's, floating close to the shore, and greedy Beansie
went straight to get it; but, alas! the water was so deep that she was
very nearly drowned, while the beautiful cloth floated past her very
fingers. Thus all she got for her pains was a ducking.

'Never mind!' thought she, 'I'll have the string of pearls!'

Yes, there it hung on the broken branch; but when Beansie jumped to
catch it, branch and all fell right on her head, so that she was
stunned. When she came to herself, some one else had walked off with
the pearls, and she had only a bump on her head as big as an egg.

All these misfortunes had quite wearied her out; she was starving with
hunger, and hurried on to the fire, hoping for a nice hot sweet
girdle-cake.

Yes, there it was, smelling most deliciously, and Beansie snatched at
it so hastily that she burnt her fingers horribly and the cake rolled
away. Before she had done blowing at her fingers and hopping about in
pain, a crow had carried off the cake, and she was left lamenting.

'At any rate, I'll have the plums!' cried miserable Beansie, setting
off at a run, her mouth watering at the sight of the luscious yellow
fruit on the topmost branches. First she held on to a lower branch
with her left hand, and reached for the fruit with the right; then,
when that was all scratched and torn by the thorns, she held on with
her right, and tried to get the fruit with the left, but all to no
avail; and when face and hands were all bleeding and full of prickles,
she gave up the useless quest, and went home, bruised, beaten, wet,
sore, hungry, and scratched all over, where I have no doubt her kind
sister Peasie put her to bed, and gave her gruel and posset.




THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE


A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was
very exacting and jealous. 'You don't do half as much for me as I do
for you,' he used to say, 'and yet you talk a great deal of your
friendship. Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me
laugh or cry, give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You
couldn't do that!'

'Let us see,' answered the Partridge; 'follow me at a little distance,
and if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!'

So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind
the other. They were both footsore and weary, and the first carried
his bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his
shoes in his hand.

Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's
stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on, but the second traveller,
seeing the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to
himself,

'What a chance for a supper!' and immediately flung his shoes at it,
they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the
shoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.

'What a plague do you mean?' cried he, angrily turning on his
companion. 'Why did you throw your shoes at my head?'

[Illustration: The second traveler preparing to fling his shoe at the
partridge]

'Brother!' replied the other mildly, 'do not be vexed. I didn't throw
them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick.'

'On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?' shouted the injured man, in
a great rage. 'Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you
insult me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you
manners!'

Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they
fought until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses
were bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died
of laughing.

'Are you satisfied?' asked the Partridge of her friend.

'Well,' answered the Jackal, 'you have certainly made me laugh, but I
doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it
is more difficult to excite the higher emotions.'

'Let us see,' retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; 'there is a
huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that
hollow tree and watch me: if you don't weep scalding tears, you must
have no feeling in you!'

The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began
fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when
she flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course
the dogs smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching
that the huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal
out by the tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts'
content, and finally left him for dead.

By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the
Partridge sitting on a branch above him.

'Did you cry?' she asked anxiously. 'Did I rouse your higher emo---'

'Be quiet, will you!' snarled the Jackal; 'I'm half dead with fear!'

So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his
bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.

'Now is the time for friendship!' said he to the Partridge. 'Get me a
good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend.'

'Very well!' replied the Partridge; 'only watch me, and help yourself
when the time comes.'

Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners
to the harvest-field.

The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along
from bush to bush as if she were wounded.

'A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!' cried the women; 'we can easily
catch it!'

Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a
thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they
put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly.
The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off
with a good dinner.

'Are you satisfied now?' asked the Partridge.

'Well,' returned the Jackal, 'I confess you have given me a very good
dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all,
the great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my
life!'

'Perhaps not,' acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, 'I am so small and
weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long
way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend the
crocodile will carry us over.'

Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly
consented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he
ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream
the Partridge remarked, 'I believe the crocodile intends to play us a
trick. How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!'

'Awkward for you too!' replied the Jackal, turning pale.

'Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't.'

On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the
crocodile, in a gruesome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted
a good meal, the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.

'Pooh!' cried the Partridge airily, 'don't try tricks on _us_,--
I should fly away, and as for my friend the Jackal, you couldn't hurt
_him_. He is not such a fool as to take his life with him on
these little excursions; he leaves it at home, locked up in the
cupboard.'

'Is that a fact?' asked the crocodile, surprised.

'Certainly!' retorted the Partridge. 'Try to eat him if you like, but
you will only tire yourself to no purpose.'

'Dear me! how very odd!' gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken
aback that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.

'Well, are you satisfied now?' asked the Partridge.

'My dear madam!' quoth the Jackal, 'you have made me laugh, you have
made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my
life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend; so,
good-bye!'

And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.




THE SNAKE-WOMAN AND KING ALI MARDAN


Once upon a time King Ali Mardan went out a-hunting, and as he hunted
in the forest above the beautiful Dal lake, which stretches clear and
placid between the mountains and the royal town of Srinagar, he came
suddenly on a maiden, lovely as a flower, who, seated beneath a tree,
was weeping bitterly. Bidding his followers remain at a distance, he
went up to the damsel, and asked her who she was, and how she came to
be alone in the wild forest.

'O great King,' she answered, looking up in his face, 'I am the
Emperor of China's handmaiden, and as I wandered about in the
pleasure-grounds of his palace I lost my way. I know not how far I
have come since, but now I must surely die, for I am weary and
hungry!'

'So fair a maiden must not die while Ali Mardan can deliver her,'
quoth the monarch, gazing ardently on the beautiful girl. So he bade
his servants convey her with the greatest care to his summer palace in
the Shalimar gardens, where the fountains scatter dewdrops over the
beds of flowers, and laden fruit-trees bend over the marble
colonnades. And there, amid the flowers and sunshine, she lived with
the King, who speedily became so enamoured of her that he forgot
everything else in the world.

So the days passed until it chanced that a Jôgi's servant, coming back
from the holy lake Gangabal, which lies on the snowy peak of Haramukh,
whither he went every year to draw water for his master, passed by the
gardens; and over the high garden wall he saw the tops of the
fountains, leaping and splashing like silver sunshine. He was so
astonished at the sight that he put his vessel of water on the ground,
and climbed over the wall, determined to see the wonderful things
inside. Once in the garden amid the fountains and flowers, he
wandered hither and thither, bewildered by beauty, until, wearied out
by excitement, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.

Now the King, coming to walk in the garden, found the man lying there,
and noticed that he held something fast in his closed right hand.
Stooping down, Ali Mardan gently loosed the fingers, and discovered a
tiny box filled with a sweet-smelling ointment. While he was
examining this more closely, the sleeper awoke, and missing his box,
began to weep and wail; whereupon the King bade him be comforted, and
showing him the box, promised to return it if he would faithfully tell
why it was so precious to him.

'O great King,' replied the Jôgi's servant, 'the box belongs to my
master, and it contains a holy ointment of many virtues. By its power
I am preserved from all harm, and am able to go to Gangabal and return
with my jar full of water in so short a time that my master is never
without the sacred element.'

Then the King was astonished, and, looking at the man keenly, said,
'Tell me the truth! Is your master indeed such a holy saint? Is he
indeed such a wonderful man?'

'O King,' replied the servant, 'he is indeed such a man, and there is
nothing in the world he does not know!'

This reply aroused the King's curiosity, and putting the box in his
vest, he said to the servant, 'Go home to your master, and tell him
King Ali Mardan has his box, and means to keep it until he comes to
fetch it himself.' In this way he hoped to entice the holy Jôgi into
his presence.

So the servant, seeing there was nothing else to be done, set off to
his master, but he was two years and a half in reaching home, because
he had not the precious box with the magical ointment; and all this
time Ali Mardan lived with the beautiful stranger in the Shalimar
palace, and forgot everything in the wide world except her
loveliness. Yet he was not happy, and a strange look came over his
face, and a stony stare into his eyes.

Now, when the servant reached home at last, and told his master what
had occurred, the Jôgi was very angry, but as he could not get on
without the box which enabled him to procure the water from Gangabal,
he set off at once to the court of King Ali Mardan. On his arrival,
the King treated him with the greatest honour, and faithfully
fulfilled the promise of returning the box.

Now the Jôgi was indeed a learned man, and when he saw the King he
knew at once all was not right, so he said, 'O King, you have been
gracious unto me, and I in my turn desire to do you a kind action; so
tell me truly,--have you always had that white scared face and those
stony eyes?'

The King hung his head.

'Tell me truly,' continued the holy Jôgi, 'have you any strange woman
in your palace?'

Then Ali Mardan, feeling a strange relief in speaking, told the Jôgi
about the finding of the maiden, so lovely and forlorn, in the forest.

'She is no handmaiden of the Emperor of China--she is no woman!'
quoth the Jôgi fearlessly; 'she is nothing but a Lamia--the dreadful
two-hundred-years-old snake which has the power of taking woman's
shape!'

Hearing this, King Ali Mardan was at first indignant, for he was madly
in love with the stranger; but when the Jôgi insisted, he became
alarmed, and at last promised to obey the holy man's orders, and so
discover the truth or falsehood of his words.

Therefore, that same evening he ordered two kinds of _khichrî_ to
be made ready for supper, and placed in one dish, so that one half was
sweet _khichrî_, and the other half salt.

Now, when as usual the King sat down to eat out of the same dish with
the Snake-woman, he turned the salt side towards her and the sweet
side towards himself.

She found her portion very salt, but, seeing the King eat his with
relish and without remark, finished hers in silence. But when they
had retired to rest, and the King, obeying the Jôgi's orders, had
feigned sleep, the Snake-woman became so dreadfully thirsty, in
consequence of all the salt food she had eaten, that she longed for a
drink of water; and as there was none in the room, she was obliged to
go outside to get some.

Now, if a Snake-woman goes out at night, she must resume her own
loathsome form; so, as King Ali Mardan lay feigning sleep, he saw the
beautiful form in his arms change to a deadly slimy snake, that slid
from the bed out of the door into the garden. He followed it softly,
watching it drink of every fountain by the way, until it reached the
Dal lake, where it drank and bathed for hours.

Fully satisfied of the truth of the Jôgi's story, King Ali Mardan
begged him for aid in getting rid of the beautiful horror. This the
Jôgi promised to do, if the King would faithfully obey orders. So
they made an oven of a hundred different kinds of metal melted
together, and closed by a strong lid and a heavy padlock. This they
placed in a shady corner of the garden, fastening it securely to the
ground by strong chains. When all was ready, the King said to the
Snake-woman, 'My heart's beloved! let us wander in the gardens alone
to-day, and amuse ourselves by cooking our own food,'

She, nothing loath, consented, and so they wandered about in the
garden; and when dinner-time came, set to work, with laughter and
mirth, to cook their own food.

The King heated the oven very hot, and kneaded the bread, but being
clumsy at it, he told the Snake-woman he could do no more, and that
she must bake the bread. This she at first refused to do, saying that
she disliked ovens, but when the King pretended to be vexed, averring
she could not love him since she refused to help, she gave in, and set
to work with a very bad grace to tend the baking.

Then, just as she stooped over the oven's mouth, to turn the loaves,
the King, seizing his opportunity, pushed her in, and clapping down
the cover, locked and double-locked it.

[Illustration: Snake-woman in the oven]

Now, when the Snake-woman found herself caught in the scorching oven,
she bounded so, that had it not been for the strong chains, she would
have bounded out of the garden, oven and all! But as it was, all she
could do was to bound up and down, whilst the King and the Jôgi piled
fuel on to the fire, and the oven grew hotter and hotter. So it went
on from four o'clock one afternoon to four o'clock the next, when the
Snake-woman ceased to bound, and all was quiet.

They waited until the oven grew cold, and then opened it, when not a
trace of the Snake-woman was to be seen, only a tiny heap of ashes,
out of which the Jôgi took a small round stone, and gave it to the
King, saying, 'This is the real essence of the Snake-woman, and
whatever you touch with it will turn to gold.'

But King Ali Mardan said such a treasure was more than any man's life
was worth, since it must bring envy and battle and murder to its
possessor; so when he went to Attock he threw the magical Snake-stone
into the river, lest it should bring strife into the world.




THE WONDERFUL RING


_Once_ upon a time there lived a King who had two sons, and when
he died he left them all his treasures; but the younger brother began
to squander it all so lavishly that the elder said, 'Let us divide
what there is, and do you take your own share, and do what you please
with it.'

So the younger took his poition, and spent every farthing of it in no
time.

When he had literally nothing left, he asked his wife to give him what
she had. Then she wept, saying, 'I have nothing left but one small
piece of jewellery; however, take that also if you want it.'

So he took the jewel, sold it for four pounds, and taking the money
with him, set off to make his fortune in the world.

As he went on his way he met a man with a cat
'How much for your cat?' asked the spendthrift
Prince.

'Nothing less than a golden pound/ replied the man.

'A bargain indeed!' cried the spendthrift, and immediately bought the
cat for a golden sovereign.

By and by he met a man with a dog, and called out as before, 'How much
for your dog?' And when the man said not less than a golden pound,
the Prince again declared it was a bargain indeed, and bought it
cheerfully.

Then he met a man carrying a parrot, and called out as before, 'How
much for the parrot?' And when he heard it was only a golden
sovereign he was delighted, saying once more that was a bargain
indeed.

He had only one pound left. Yet even then, when he met a Jôgi
carrying a serpent, he cried out at once, 'O Jôgi, how much for the
snake?'

'Not a farthing less than a golden sovereign,' quoth the Jôgi.

'And very little, too!' cried the spendthrift, handing over his last
coin.

So there he was, possessed of a cat, a dog, a parrot, and a snake, but
not a single penny in his pocket. However, he set to work bravely to
earn his living; but the hard labour wearied him dreadfully, for being
a Prince he was not used to it. Now when his serpent saw this, it
pitied its kind master, and said, 'Prince, if you are not afraid to
come to my father's house, he will perhaps give you something for
saving me from the Jôgi.' The spendthrift Prince was not a bit afraid
of anything, so he and the serpent set off together, but when they
arrived at the house, the snake bade the Prince wait outside, while it
went in alone and prepared the snake-father for a visitor. When the
snake-father heard what the serpent had to say, he was much pleased,
declaring he would reward the Prince by giving him anything he
desired. So the serpent went out to fetch the Prince into the
snake-father's presence, and when doing so, it whispered in his ear,
'My father will give you anything you desire. Remember only to ask
for his little ring as a keepsake.'

This rather astonished the Prince, who naturally thought a ring would
be of little use to a man who was half starving; however, he did as he
was bid, and when the snake-father asked him what he desired, he
replied, 'Thank you; I have everything, and want for nothing.'

Then the snake-father asked him once more what he would take as a
reward, but again he answered that he wanted nothing, having all that
heart could desire.

Nevertheless, when the snake-father asked him the third time, he
replied, 'Since you wish me to take something, let it be the ring you
wear on your finger, as a keepsake.'

Then the snake-father frowned, and looked displeased, saying, 'Were it
not for my promise, I would have turned you into ashes on the spot,
for daring to ask for my greatest treasure. But as I have said, it
must be. Take the ring, and go!'

So the Prince, taking the ring, set off homewards with his servant the
serpent, to whom he said regretfully, 'This old ring is a mistake; I
have only made the snake-father angry by asking for it, and much good
it will do me! It would have been wiser to say a sack of gold.'

'Not so, my Prince!' replied the serpent; 'that ring is a wonderful
ring! You have only to make a clean square place on the ground,
plaster it over according to the custom of holy places, put the ring
in the centre, sprinkle it with buttermilk, and then whatever you wish
for will be granted immediately.'

Vastly delighted at possessing so great a treasure as this magic ring,
the Prince went on his way rejoicing, but by and by, as he trudged
along the road, he began to feel hungry, and thought he would put his
ring to the test. So, making a holy place, he put the ring in the
centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, 'O ring, I want some
sweetmeats for dinner!'

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