The adventures of Hatim Taï, a romance

by Unknown

BOOK III.

Hatim’s journey to the desert and city of Himyar—His interview with Hamīr, and his return to the city of Shahabad.

The historians have informed us, that when Hatim set out on his journey from Shahabad he had not the least idea in what direction he ought to proceed. All he knew of the man in question was, that he dwelt in the city of Himyar; he therefore placed his reliance upon divine Providence, and continued his route to the north. When a month had thus passed, the summit of a mountain appeared in the distant horizon. Thither Hatim directed his steps, and when he arrived at the foot of the mountain, he heard a voice loudly exclaiming: “Come, oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence.”

Hatim ascended the mountain till he saw a wide-spreading and shady tree, underneath which was placed a sofa formed of marble. On the sofa reclined a young man fair of countenance, holding in his hand a branch of the tree, and his eyes shut as it were in a state of abstraction, exclaiming, at short intervals, “Come, oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence.” When Hatim saw him, he wondered within himself how a human being could have taken up his residence in such a solitary spot: he therefore resolved to ask him the cause of his sorrow. He went close to the youth, and said, “Friend, tell me the nature of your grief.” The young man continued in a state of listlessness without taking the least notice of Hatim’s inquiry, but uttered again the words above given. Hatim once more addressed him, but received no reply; and then, he for the third time asked him, saying, “Strange youth, surely you are deaf; thrice have I requested to know the cause of your sorrow, and you have returned me no answer: am I not to be considered by you as a man, and a servant of the Almighty?” The youth opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, said to him, “My friend, whence come you; what is your business with me, and what is the subject of your inquiries?”—“You and I,” replied Hatim, “are of the same species; perhaps I may be able to contribute to your relief.”—“Alas!” rejoined the other, “many a one like you has come here, and having teased me with questions respecting my condition, has abandoned me; but no one has hitherto made any effort to relieve me: may I then request that you will go your way?” Hatim still persevered, saying, “As you have told your tale to so many, I beg for heaven’s sake, that you will let me hear it.”—“Sit down then for a moment,” said the young man, “till I relate to you my history.”

Hatim reclined beneath the shade of the tree, and the youth proceeded with his tale: “I am a merchant. Once I was journeying with my caravan towards the empire of Rūm, and at a certain spot on the road near this mountain I desired my attendants to move onwards, while I remained admiring the surrounding scenery, after which I should soon overtake them. My caravan accordingly proceeded, and I began to climb the mountain; but the higher I went, the greater became my desire to reach its summit. At length I stopped to rest underneath this tree; when, lo! a damsel unparalleled in beauty of countenance and elegance of form, presented herself to my view. The moment I beheld this ravisher of hearts, reason abandoned my soul; and I fell senseless on the ground. The moon-faced damsel approached me, and raising my head upon her lap, besprinkled my face with rose-water of sweet fragrance. When I returned to my senses, and found my head reclining upon the lap of this Hourī, heavens! had I a thousand hearts, her beauty would have robbed me of them all. I stood up and asked her, ‘Fairest of damsels, who are you, and from what cause do you dwell in this solitude?’—‘I am a fairy,’ she replied, ‘and this mountain is my residence: I have long wished to see one of the human race such as you are, and this day the desire of my heart has been realized.’ I became so fascinated with the charms of this fairy angel, that I lost all thoughts of my caravan, my home, my merchandise, and myself. She smiled so irresistibly that she entangled my heart in the fetters of her ringlets.

“After I had lived three months in the enjoyment of her society, I one day said to her, ‘Why should we thus spend our lives in solitude? It would be better for us to remove to the city, and pass our time in the midst of new pleasure.’ To this the fairy replied, ‘If such is your wish, I am satisfied; and I will accompany you as soon as I can get permission to quit this place. Meanwhile I must leave you for a short time, and you must not stir hence till my return; remain underneath this same tree till I rejoin you, when we shall set out together for your city.’ I then said to her, ‘How long will you be absent?’—‘Within seven days,’ she answered, ‘I shall certainly return; and, I repeat, beware of moving hence till I come, otherwise you will have cause to repent.’

“It is now seven years since the fairy left me, and on account of her injunctions and my promise, I durst not, during that period, go away anywhere, lest in my absence my beloved should have returned, and not finding me here, she should have cause to be angry with me. But, in fact, my strength is now so reduced that I cannot proceed in search of her, having lived for so long a time on the leaves of trees and water from the fountain. I may verily say, that to me the earth is hard, and the heavens are far off; I cannot stay, and I dare not go. Many people like yourself have come to me, and on hearing my history have gone their way; and on that account I disregarded your inquiries.”

When the young man had finished his tale, Hatim said to him, “Pray, sir, what is your name?”—“I am called Tamim of Kharzim,” was the reply. “Did the fairy,” rejoined Hatim, “mention to you her name and place of abode?”—“Her name,” replied the other, “is Alkanpari, and her residence is the mountain Alka.”—“When she left you,” continued Hatim, “in what direction did she proceed?”—“She walked to the right,” answered the youth; “but very soon I lost sight of her, and I know not whither she went.”—“Well,” said Hatim, “if you really wish to see that fairy again, come with me, and we shall set off together to the mountain of Alka, and endeavor to find her out.”—“Your proposal is fair,” answered the youth; “but if I depart with you, and during my absence the mistress of my heart should happen to come here, she will return disappointed; my journey will then be of no avail, and I shall not obtain the object of my wish. If it be destined for me to meet with her, it must be in this spot; and if otherwise, I am willing to sacrifice my life for her beloved sake.”

When Hatim heard this, tears of pity flowed from his eyes, while he thus addressed the young man: “My good friend, I will myself go to the mountain of Alka, and should it please the Almighty Creator, I shall find out that beautiful fairy, and either cause her to return to you, or bring her hither in person: I will depart immediately while you remain here, and when I have discovered the dwelling-place of Alkanpari, I will return.”—“Noble sir,” said the youth, “I have never yet seen any one who would abandon his own affairs in order to serve others; why should you be an exception to this rule? Go then and follow your own business.”—“Mistake me not, young man,” said Hatim, “I have devoted my life and property to the service of my fellow-creatures, and so far as either of them may be of use, I am ready to assist the distressed. Be assured, sir, that I speak sincerely; I have made a vow to God always to speak the truth; trust me, then, and remain here till I return.”

The young man promised that he would not leave that spot; and Hatim bidding him farewell, recommended him to the care of God, and departed. He proceeded in the direction which the fairy had gone, and for the whole of that day had his eyes bent towards the top of the mountain; but he no sooner approached the summit, than another still higher appeared beyond it. He passed onwards to the higher mountain, which he began to ascend. Its sides abounded with evergreen trees and shady groves. At length he came to a spot overshadowed by four aged and wide-spreading trees, underneath which were placed seats neat and clean. Hatim reclined on one of these couches, and as the breezes were cool and refreshing, he soon fell asleep. In the midst of his slumbers four fairies came and sat down beside him, and when they discovered that the sleeper was one of Adam’s race, they said one to another, “How has this young man found his way hither? Let us question him as to the object of his journey.”

One of the four fairies having awaked Hatim, said to him, “Pray, tell us, young man, how have you arrived here, and on what account are you come?” Hatim opened his eyes, and on seeing the fairies, replied, “I have travelled hither, under the guidance of my Creator, in search of Alkanpari, who resides in the mountain of Alka. That beautiful fairy has captured the heart of a youth by name Tamim, whom she one day left underneath a tree, promising to return in the course of seven days; and, lo! the youth has waited there seven years in expectation of her. The miserable man is now in the agonies of death; and I am going to expostulate with the fairy for her cruelty and insincerity; for to make a promise and not to fulfil it, is a proceeding unbecoming the noble.”

To this the fairies replied, “Alkanpari is sovereign of the mountain Alka; how is it possible that she could have pledged herself to hold an interview with one of your race? In truth, you are mad to say so, and it is our duty to put you to instant death.”—“If such be my fate,” returned Hatim, “I am resigned.” The fairies relenting, said to him, “If you will pass some days in our society, and entertain us with your conversation, we shall conduct you to the mountain of Alka.”—“I agree,” said Hatim, “particularly as I have no other resource, and the success of my present journey must depend upon you.” The fairy damsels then presented him with food, and treated him most hospitably with every kind of eatable that he could desire. When the stipulated period had elapsed, Hatim requested to be conducted on his way by his fair entertainers, who readily accompanied him during the space of seven days, and then took leave, saying, “Beyond this spot we dare not advance: you must hold by the path towards the right hand till you come in sight of a mountain at the foot of which there are two roads; but there you must again take that which leads to the right, and you will thereby arrive at the mountain of Alka.”

Hatim bade adieu to his guides, and proceeded on his journey towards the mountain. In a month after he came to the place where the road branched into two, and as the shades of the night were falling, he there sat down, in order to rest till day. When a watch of the night had elapsed, his ear was struck with a voice of sorrow that issued from the surrounding desert. He raised his head and as he listened to the mournful sounds, he thought within himself, “Oh, Hatim! thou hast devoted thyself to the service of thy Creator; and now, when the voice of distress pierces thy ear, why dost thou hesitate to administer relief? What will be thy answer hereafter in the presence of the great Judge?” With these reflections he speedily arose and proceeded to the left, in the direction of the voice. The whole night he continued to advance, but no one could he find; and when it was day, he sat down and rested till darkness again overspread the earth, when the same lamenting voice reached his ears. He started up, and continued his pursuit till at the dawn of day he arrived at a solitary spot, where he beheld a comely youth with his feet bare and his head uncovered, bitterly weeping and lamenting.

Hatim addressed the young man, saying, “My friend, how came you to be alone in this wilderness, whose echoes resound to your cries; and who has sent you hither?” The youth in tears replied, “Generous sir, I am by profession a soldier, and lately quitted my home in quest of service. On my journey I happened to lose my way, and on coming to a certain city, I asked the inhabitants, ‘What is the name of this city, and who is its sovereign?’ One of them told me, ‘This is the capital of Musahhir, the magician’; on hearing which, I became terrified, and immediately fled. After I had ridden the distance of a farasang from the city, I came to a garden, whose beauty charmed my heart; and dismounting from my steed, I entered this terrestrial paradise. I had not advanced more than three steps within the garden, when I beheld troops of damsels fair as Houris and clothed in splendid apparel. I then discovered that I was in the garden of the residence of the women, and reflecting that it was highly improper for me to enter such sacred precincts, I began to retrace my steps the way I came.

“When the women saw me, one of them ran and told her mistress that a young man was about to walk in the garden, but on discovering his mistake, had retired. On hearing this, the lady, who was none other than the daughter of Musahhir the magician, instantly sent me a message requesting my attendance. I went, and the moment I beheld her fair countenance I became like one beside himself, and grew so faint that I had to lay hold of the garden gate for support. Her attendants seized me by the hands and conducted me to the midst of the garden, where I was seated upon a couch beside the magician’s daughter. This lady received me so kindly, and smiled so sweetly, that my heart was pierced with love. Bewildered, I contemplated her beautiful form as she sat by me.

“Meanwhile, who should arrive at the garden door but her father the magician; and when he saw my horse, he asked whose it was, and being informed of the whole affair by the attendants, he entered, foaming with rage. When he beheld his daughter engaged in conversation with me, he seized her by the neck, and was about to dash her against the ground, but the lady appealed to his sense of justice, as she was not guilty of any impropriety, and begged of him first to make the strictest inquiry, and then inflict punishment, if due. The father checked his anger and withdrew his hands, when in the meantime the nurse addressed him, saying, ‘Oh, king! your daughter is now of age, and amongst your subjects there is none worthy of being her husband. The stranger you see here is just arrived: he seems of noble rank, and an honorable man; it were better, then, that you give him your daughter in marriage, for you will thus secure a noble successor. If, however, you put to death these two, who are perfectly free from crime, you will, on the one hand, set a ruinous example to your people; and, on the other hand, you will stain yourself with the blood of the innocent.’

“On hearing this, Musahhir the magician said, ‘Daughter, what think you of this proposal?’ The damsel replied, ‘As yet I have not been seen by any stranger, and as this traveller has happened to see me unveiled, I am willing to accept him.’—‘Be it so,’ said her father; ‘but I have three conditions, and that man alone who can comply with them shall receive my daughter.’ I then ventured to address the magician, saying, ‘In that case I am ready to do whatever you command me.’ The magician then conducted me to his capital, and admitted me into his hall of audience. He then summoned the grandees of his dominions, in whose presence he thus stated to me the three conditions on which I was to receive his daughter:

“‘The first condition is, that you will procure me a pair of the animals called parīrū.’

“‘The second is, that you will bring me the muhra, the pearl which is in the mouth of the red dragon.’

“‘And the third is, that you will cast yourself into a large cauldron full of boiling oil, and see if you can come out unhurt.’

“To each of these I agreed, and immediately quitting the city, I wandered hither, where I am now exhausted with hunger and thirst, and pierced through the heart with the darts of the glances of a Houri. I am not able to return to my own country, and no friend has yet visited me by whose aid I might fulfil the conditions of the magician, and thus become entitled to the hand of his daughter; in this desert I have constantly strayed, weeping and lamenting, since the time I left the city, which is now a period of two years.”

On hearing this statement, Hatim said to the young man, in condoling language, “Be of good cheer, for God willing, I will perform these three conditions for you, and put you in possession of your mistress.” He then remembered the circumstance of the jackals that had procured him the head of the pariru from the desert of Mazanderán, and resolved to set out thither immediately. In short, Hatim took leave of the youth, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. In the course of a few days he came to a certain city, around which, along the walls and ditches, the inhabitants had laid piles of dried wood, which they kept burning.

Hatim, surprised, asked them what was the cause of this conflagration. “If,” said one of them, “we do not keep this fire constantly burning all around our outward walls, a monstrous demon will enter our city and devour us.”—“Pray,” said Hatim, “what like is this evil being that so annoys you?”—“He is a large animal,” replied they, “frightful beyond description, and when he comes he devours three or four of our people at a time.” Hatim, on hearing this, began to consider how it would be practicable to free them from this calamity, and in the meantime he went to take some repose in the caravanseraï.

He then caused a pit to be dug outside the city in the open plain, which he fenced round with bushes of thorn and piles of wood, and furnishing himself with a bow and quiver full of arrows he took up his post in that ambush about sunset. When about a watch of the night had passed, the approach of the monster was indicated with a noise like that of a tempest. When this formidable beast came nearer, he saw that it had eight feet and seven heads, of which six were like those of lions, and the remaining head resembled that of an elephant. The elephant head was situated in the middle, and had three eyes.

When Hatim was leaving the city, the inhabitants had given him a description of the monster, which he now found to be quite correct. They further told him that this terrific beast was vulnerable only on the middle eye of the elephant head, and if it were possible to hit that eye with an arrow, it would be the means of removing this calamity, for then the monster would run off, and never approach a human abode. Meanwhile the inhabitants hearing him advance, kindled their fires all around the city, which became completely covered with a thick cloud of smoke. The monster moved round the walls, and continued to roar with all his mouths so loud that the city shook to its foundation. At length he approached the spot where Hatim lay concealed, and when the latter observed him, he placed his trust in Providence, and seizing his bow he took a deliberate aim at the central eye on the elephant head, and pierced it with an arrow.

The monster reeled and fell with a crash upon the earth, and raised such a roar that the city and the desert shook far and wide. He shortly after started up, and fled so swiftly towards the wilderness that he never looked behind him. Hatim spent the whole night without the walls, and when the dawn of morning appeared he reëntered the gates. The people crowded round him, and asked whether he had seen the demon. He answered, “I have expelled him from your territories.”—“How,” said they, “can we be certain of that?”—“You may soon satisfy yourselves on that score,” replied Hatim; “this night you can watch on the walls and battlements of the city, and if you hear his sound, then shall you consider me a teller of falsehood; if, on the other hand, the sound shall not be heard, you will be convinced of my veracity.” To this they agreed and acted accordingly, and when the night was over and all well, they returned to Hatim and prostrated themselves at his feet, and conveyed him in triumph to the residence of their governor, who received him with the utmost courtesy and respect, seating him by his side, and treating him with boundless hospitality. The people of the city, and particularly the governor, speedily brought all their wealth in cash and valuable effects, and offered it to Hatim, who said to them, “I am a poor traveller, and I am not the least desirous of such wealth as you offer me.” They requested him to accept of their bounty, and do with it what he thought proper.

Hatim accepted the gold and property which they thus pressed upon him, and bestowed the whole of it on the fakirs, and poor people of the city. He then took leave of the inhabitants, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. As he was journeying onwards, he saw a black snake in deadly contest with a weasel. He stood for some time looking on, while neither of the animals seemed to have the advantage. At length he shouted, “Vile reptiles! what is the cause of this deadly contest between you?” The snake replied, “My opponent here has slain my father.” The weasel added, “Snakes are the natural food of my species, and therefore I killed his father, and will kill him also, that I may eat him.” Hatim addressed the weasel, saying, “If flesh be thy desire, say the word, and I shall give it thee from off my own body”; and to the snake he said, “If revenge be thy object, slay me instead of the weasel.” Both of them, on hearing this, ceased from their struggle. The weasel said to Hatim, “As you have offered me your flesh, give it me.”—“What part of me,” asked Hatim, “do you desire?”—“Your cheek,” replied the weasel.

Hatim seized a knife, and was about to cut off the flesh from his cheek, when the weasel cried, “Desist, young man, I merely did this to try your firmness, and now I am convinced of your generosity.” Immediately both of them assumed the appearance of men. When Hatim saw this, he asked, “My friends, what wonderful occurrence is this?” The weasel replied, “We are both of us of the race of the genii, and I confess I have slain his father; but the reason is, that I fell desperately in love with the old man’s daughter, and he refused his assent to our marriage. The brother, as you see, bears deadly hatred towards me, and I must kill him in self-defence.” Hatim, addressing the genii, recommended to them peace and amity on both sides, and proffered that each should marry the other’s sister. The genius that had been in the form of a weasel replied, “My father, who is king of the genii, will never agree to such a proposal.”—“Let me be shown to his presence,” requested Hatim, “and I may induce him to be satisfied.”—“Follow me, then,” said the genius, “and you shall soon be in my father’s court.” After they had thus walked together for some distance, they arrived at a spacious city, where the prince told Hatim, “This is my father’s capital. I must part with you here, in order to proceed to my own residence; but my attendants will take you by the hand, and conduct you to my father’s presence.”

Troops of genii approached Hatim accordingly, and ushered him before their sovereign, whose name was Mahyūr. When his Majesty saw Hatim, he said to him, “Stranger of the race of Adam, what important affair has brought you into my capital?”—“I have come,” said he, “for promoting peace and friendship.”—“How,” rejoined the king, “can any of the human race act so friendly a part towards the genii, and what is the nature of this service with which you are to favor us?”—“You have a son,” continued Hatim; “may I ask whether you wish his life to be spared, or are resolved on his death?”—“Truly,” replied Mahyur, “I have a son, but what then?”—“If you love him,” said Hatim in return, “follow my advice, and his life may be saved; otherwise death will soon overtake him.”—“May the divine favor be upon you,” rejoined the king of the genii; “tell me what is the matter, that my son is in danger of his life.”—“He has slain the father of a certain youth named Bahram,” said Hatim, “and the latter bears hatred towards him on that account, and will certainly slay him: to-day I saw them in deadly contest, and your son’s life would have been short indeed had I not parted them. Another day they will again meet, and the result will be fatal; but if you obey my directions, I may be the means of establishing peace between them. The case is this: your son is enamoured of Bahram’s sister, and has slain her father because he refused his consent to their union; on the other hand, Bahram is in love with your daughter. It is requisite then, in order to do away all grounds of hatred, that you bestow your daughter on Bahram, and induce his sister to marry your son.”

Mahyur expressed satisfaction with Hatim’s proposal; and accordingly summoned his son and Bahram into his presence, where Hatim succeeded in making them friends. When each of the lovers was in possession of his mistress, Hatim went to take leave of Mahyur, who said to him at parting, “Brave sir! accept of something from us as a reward for your kindness.”—“I have never yet taken a reward,” replied Hatim, “for discharging the duties of humanity.”—“Generous Hatim!” rejoined the king of the genii, “accept from me this staff as a token of esteem; it may be of use to you. When you hold it erect in your hand, it becomes possessed of some rare qualities; for instance, if a serpent or scorpion sting you, the venom shall have no effect, and the fire shall have no power over you. If any one assail you with magic, turn round the staff, and the enchantment will be of no avail. In particular, the poison of the red dragon can have no power over you. Accept at the same time this talisman, and whenever you behold a serpent, whether red, or black, or green, or white, place the talisman in your mouth, and you will be safe. Again, when you come to a river, throw the staff into the water, and it will instantly become a boat.”

Hatim having taken the talisman and the staff, bade adieu to the king of the genii, and proceeded on his journey to Mazanderán. Advancing day and night, he arrived at the banks of a large river. While standing upon the shore he beheld the waves rising to the clouds, and by their buffeting lashing the stars of heaven. He looked in all directions for a place where he might cross; and when he was in this consideration, he recollected the staff presented to him by Mahyur the king of the genii. He immediately seized it in his right hand, and threw it amidst the billows, whereupon the staff was changed into a boat, in which he embarked and began to make his way across. After he had sailed about half way, a huge nihang espied him, and ran off with himself and his boat. Hatim resigned his soul to the will of fate, and was waiting the result with patience, till at length after they had traversed the deep for the space of seven farasangs, his feet rested on firm ground. There he opened his eyes, and was surprised on hearing the nihang address him in eloquent language, thus: “Oh, Hatim! I have brought thee into this place that thou mightest render me justice.” Hatim said, “What justice do you require?” To this the nihang replied, “The crab has unlawfully deprived me of my place of residence: my wish is that you will put me in possession of what is my right.” Hatim rejoined, “Is it possible that the crab is more powerful than you?” To this the nihang replied, “Sluggish as he may appear, he is able to crush me into pieces between his claws; at present he is abroad somewhere in quest of food, and I have in the meantime brought you hither.”

Hatim humbly placed his reliance on his Creator, well aware that of himself he could do nothing; when, lo! the crab, which was of immense size, made his appearance, whereupon the nihang immediately fled. The crab slowly approached; and when he saw the flight of the nihang, he raised such a noise as shook the earth, so that Hatim himself was terrified, and devoutly prayed that Providence might deliver him from the evil that threatened him. He speedily took in his hand the charmed staff presented to him by Mahyur, on beholding which, the crab remained still where he was. Hatim then addressed the monstrous animal, saying, “Know you not that the oppressor shall fall by his own deceit? Why then do you injure the nihang? Is there not room sufficient for both of you in this river, that you should forcibly take possession of another’s residence?” To this the crab replied, “The nihang and I are of the same genus, what then has one of the human race to say in any contention that may take place between us?”—“There is some truth in your statement,” said Hatim, “but all creatures have their being from God, who delighteth in justice and punisheth the oppressor: if you fear him then, injure not a fellow-creature.”—“Well,” replied the crab, “at present I shall quit this place, rather than argue the point with you; but I shall meet the nihang on some future day, when you are not at hand to lend your aid.”—“Assuredly you are a mischievous animal,” rejoined Hatim; “but if you value your own life, abandon this place forever.” The crab, on hearing this, rushed upon Hatim, and was about to seize him in his claws; but he struck him such a blow with the charmed staff of the genius that his attack was rendered fruitless. The monstrous animal turned and fled; and the nihang, taking courage, began to pursue him, whereupon Hatim called out, “Desist, for to pursue him now is cowardly, as his weapons are powerless; he will never hereafter annoy you, and if you oppress him I shall put an end to your days.”

Hatim having settled the plea between the two inhabitants of the deep, threw down his staff, which turned into a boat wherein he embarked, and reaching the opposite shore of the water, he continued his journey to Mazanderán. At length he arrived in that extensive wilderness, and reclining in the shade of a tree he began to consider what would be the best way of procuring the pariru. When the darkness of night had fallen around him, several of these birds, that had been abroad in search of food, came and perched upon the tree, and began to converse among themselves: “Our solitary abode is visited by a man, Hatim ben Taï; the object of his journey is to relieve the distressed: what then are we to do?” All of them concurred in saying, “Hatim is a man of the noblest disposition, and he must not leave us in disappointment.” Having formed this resolution, the birds assembled around Hatim, and in humble posture began to embrace his feet. When he saw their wonderful form, he was highly astonished; for each of them resembles an angel in beauty of countenance. Fascinated with the charms of their fairy faces, he could not avoid exclaiming, “Gracious heaven! how inscrutable are thy decrees, who hast formed such creatures with bodies like those of birds, and countenances fair as the Houris of paradise.”

Meanwhile the strange creatures, addressing Hatim in sweet flowing language, said to him, “Oh, Hatim! may the fame of your generosity be eternal; you have subjected yourself to toils and perils for the sake of others. We know the cause of your journey hither: a certain youth has become enamoured of the magician’s daughter; the father gives his consent on certain conditions, one of which is, that he may have a pair of our species, and you, regardless of danger, have come hither on that account.”—“You say truly,” replied Hatim, “and if you will allow me to take a pair of your young, it will be doing me the highest favor; and it will also promote the suit of the despairing lover.” They deliberated among themselves, saying, “Those of us that are fully grown cannot be expected to go with this man: who is it, then, among us that will present him with a pair of young ones? It will be a service acceptable to God.”

Here one of the pariru birds said to Hatim: “Lo, I myself will give you a pair of my own young, for the sake of that Being who bestoweth all things; accept them, and take them with you wherever you please.” Hatim joyfully received the young birds; and having passed the night in that desert, he early next morning took leave of these wonderful creatures, and began to retrace his way to the capital of the magician. In the course of time, after he had traversed mountains and deserts innumerable, he arrived at the spot where the young soldier still lingered; and having presented to him the pariru birds, he said, “Rejoice, my friend, for here you see what will fulfil one of the magician’s conditions.” When the youth beheld the birds, he prostrated himself in ecstasy at Hatim’s feet, saying, “My generous benefactor! let us now proceed with these beautiful birds, and present them to the magician.” Both of them set out accordingly, and by the way Hatim related to his friend the occurrences of his journey, and the situation of the desert of Mazanderán; and having handed to him the pariru birds, he desired him to go himself and deliver them to Musahhir, and mention nothing of having been assisted in procuring them.

When they entered the city, Hatim stopped at a caravanseraï, and the youth proceeded with the birds, and delivered them to the magician, who was much surprised in seeing them, and questioned him, saying, “Young man, is this your own doing? If so, tell me truly in what part of the world are such birds to be found?” The youth, without hesitation, replied, “In the desert of Mazanderán.” The magician then asked him various particulars about the road thither, all of which he was enabled to answer satisfactorily from what Hatim had told him. “You are right,” said the magician: “so much for the first condition. Now procure me the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon.” The youth said, in reply, “Let me for one moment view the face of her whom I adore, for otherwise I shall not have even the power of moving.” To this the magician agreed, and sent a message to his daughter, desiring her to hold her head out at the window, and favor her lover with one look. The young man, in transports, presented himself under her window, and the lady leaning out her head as permitted, cheered him with her smiles. After they had viewed each other with the looks of affection, the youth said, “Now I am about to depart in quest of the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon; can you inform me where it is to be found?”—“I have heard,” replied the lady, “that it is in the Red Desert, which is in the regions of the mountain Kaf.”

The youth, on hearing this, took leave of his beloved, and hastened to Hatim, to whom he communicated all that had passed. Hatim comforted him, and said, “Cease your weeping and lamentation, for I will use every exertion for your relief: may God preserve you till my return.” Having thus spoken, Hatim parted with his friend and began his journey to the mountain Kaf. After he had passed many a stage he arrived in a wilderness, where he one day at dawn espied a dragon streaked with the seven colors of the rainbow, and having wings like those of an eagle, with which he hovered over the desert.

On beholding this terrific sight, Hatim stood aghast, while he said in his heart, “I have ere now traversed deserts and mountains like those around me; but such a creature as this I never saw before: I must keep a strict watch on his movements, in order to discover his haunt.” Hatim followed the dragon for the whole of that day, and at eve the winged monster took refuge in the cleft of a rock near which Hatim also rested, resolved to observe the proceedings of so wonderful a creature. In that same neighborhood there was a village, the inhabitants of which were then coming out for water to a fountain close by the rock. When they saw Hatim, they discovered that he was a stranger, and hospitably offered him bread and water, on which he fared; and on their inviting him to their village, he said he preferred resting for the night beneath a tree close by.

Meanwhile the people returned to their dwellings, leaving their cows and flocks at pasture on the verdant plain that lay at the foot of the rock, where the shepherds also remained to tend them for the night. At the end of the first watch, however, the winged serpent issued from his haunt, and rushing upon the cattle, speedily killed them all, one after another, with his venomous sting. Nor did his devastation there stop, for on the same night he destroyed two troops of horses belonging to a caravan that had halted at the fountain. When Hatim saw this dreadful ravage he wrung his hands in agony, but lo! the dragon, still thirsting for blood, approached the tree where he stood and in an instant stung to death those who watched the caravan, and the shepherds that were in attendance; after which, he again vanished into the hole in the rock.

Hatim spent the remainder of the night in a state of sorrow and amazement; and when the dawn of day appeared, the villagers came out to look after their flocks, but to their astonishment they beheld the plain strewed with the dead bodies of the shepherds and the carcases of their cows and horses. So deadly was the venom of this monster, that by the dawn of day the flesh was completely dissolved from off the bones and converted into a liquid of green color. One of the people conveyed the mournful tidings to the village, whereupon all the inhabitants came out crying and weeping. On seeing Hatim they addressed him, saying, “Tell us, stranger, how come you to be here alive, and how has this terrible catastrophe taken place?”—“Alas! my friends,” replied Hatim, “here I have witnessed most horrible deeds, such as I never beheld or heard of in my whole life. A seven-colored dragon, shaped as an eagle, has committed this slaughter, and retired into a hole in the rock, where you may still see him.”

The people gathered round the mouth of the cavern, and on seeing the dragon they were terrified, and said to one another, “Truly such a formidable animal as this we never yet beheld.” Meanwhile the dragon rushed from his hole in the rock, and seizing the chief of the village pierced him with his envenomed sting till he rolled in the dust and bade adieu to life, amidst the shrieks and tears of his friends and attendants. The dragon then winged his way slowly towards the desert, and Hatim followed close after him, in order to see what might happen next. For the whole of that day he continued his pursuit, and when evening was nigh the dragon halted near a large city while Hatim watched him from a short distance. But the dragon had no sooner touched the ground than he was transformed into a black snake, while Hatim stood wrapt in astonishment, anxious to know what would be the result of this change. The black serpent coiled himself into a hole till the end of the first watch of the night, when he issued out and made direct for the city, whither Hatim continued to follow. At length the serpent arrived at the walls of the king’s palace, which he entered by a certain staircase, and ere Hatim could follow, returned by the same passage, and made for another house. In a very short time the serpent came out of the latter house also, and quitting the city retired to his hole. Hatim wondered in his mind who could have been the victims of the scourge for that night. With the morning certainty came, for the cries and lamentations of the people soon informed him that the prince and vizier’s son were in the course of the night stung to death by a serpent, and now lay stretched on the bier, and were being conveyed to their graves.

In the course of the morning the black snake quit his hole, and made off in another direction, Hatim following; nor for the whole day did he cease his pursuit, till towards night the serpent came to the bank of a river, where he assumed the form of a lion. It happened that close by there was a village, the inhabitants of which, to the number of ten or twelve, were proceeding, one after the other, to the river to draw water, among them a most comely youth of the age of sixteen. This youth, the flower of the village, the lion seized as his victim, and having torn him to pieces, he again made for the desert, where, to Hatim’s utter amazement, he was transformed into a beautiful damsel of fourteen years of age. When Hatim beheld the damsel, he said in his heart, “May heaven protect me! I wonder what is to happen next.”

The damsel in an instant arrayed herself in splendid apparel and costly jewels, and, resembling the full moon in beauty, sat down underneath a tree by the wayside. It happened that shortly after, two brother soldiers, natives of China, who having completed their stipulated period of service were returning loaded with wealth to their own country, passed that way, and on seeing them the damsel began a most piteous lamentation. When this voice of sorrow reached their ears, the elder of the two brothers approached the tree, and to his astonishment there beheld the most beautiful of women deeply affected with grief. The soldier thus addressed the damsel: “Fairest of women, what calamity has befallen thee that thou art thus forsaken to weep and lament in the solitary desert?”—“I am,” replied the damsel, “the wife of a villager: a few days ago I had gone on a visit to my mother’s house, and in returning home along with my husband we lost our way in this wilderness, where I have since wandered. I have not been able to find the way back to my mother’s house, nor do I know in what direction to proceed in quest of my husband or of my own home. Whither my husband is gone heaven only knows; and now what is to become of me, and how am I to live?” The brave soldier, on hearing this sad detail, said to the young woman, “If I were to offer myself as your husband, would you accept me?”—“If you will agree to my three conditions,” answered the damsel, “I will give you my hand. The first condition is, that you shall have no other wife than myself[1]; the second, that I will be exempt from all household services; and the third is, that you are not to reprimand me for anything I may choose to do.” To this the soldier agreed, saying, “I am as yet unmarried, and I promise to comply with all your conditions. While I live I shall have no other wife but you; and in my house there are slaves male and female in abundance, so that you will have no trouble with the household affairs, except to give orders for whatever you wish. Your last condition I believe is superfluous; is it possible that any man can speak harshly to her whom he loves?” The damsel, on hearing this, replied, “Enough, I will accept you as my husband,” and accordingly they joined hands; after which the soldier mounted his steed, and taking up his new wife behind him, departed. Hatim followed, in order to see the end of these strange occurrences; and when they had gone some distance, the woman said to her husband, “I am quite exhausted with hunger and thirst, having tasted no food for the last three days; if you have nothing eatable with you, at least let me have a drink of water.” The soldier dismounted, and having caused his wife to alight, he seated her under the shade of a tree, and he took a pitcher, and went in search of water.

* * * *

When the woman arrived at the village, she assumed the form of a buffalo; and the people attempting to seize her, she slew several of them with her hoofs and horns, and again fled towards the desert.

Filled with wonder, Hatim closely followed this mysterious being, and when arrived in the midst of the desert, lo! the buffalo was transformed into a venerable old man with a white beard. On seeing this last change, Hatim resolved to accost the old man, and ask him the hidden cause of his evil deeds, and why he delighted in working such havoc among God’s creatures. He accordingly made up to him at a rapid pace, and stood by his side. The aged man turned and said, “Speak, Hatim, whatever you wish to say.”—“Venerable sir,” replied Hatim, “how came you to know my name?”—“If that be all,” replied the old man, “I know the name of every individual in your tribe; but at present, if you have any question to ask me make haste, for I have much business in hand, and my time is precious.”

Hatim, without more delay, said to him, “Mysterious being! I first beheld you in the shape of a dragon, when you filled with sorrow a whole village; you afterwards assumed the form of a black snake, when you laid in the dust the son of the king and that of his minister; again, you transformed yourself into a lion, and tore to pieces a youth the most elegant of form; you then became a beautiful damsel of the age of fourteen, and by your perfidy caused the death of two brothers; your next step was to adopt the shape of a buffalo, and you slew the people of the village; you now appear an aged man: tell me, for heaven’s sake, what are you, and whither are you going?” The old man, with a haughty smile, replied, “What does all this concern you? Follow your own business: you also I shall yet visit in some shape or other, and your death will be the consequence.”

Hatim persisted, saying, “I will never quit my hold of your skirt till you clear up to me this mystery.”—“Know, then,” said the old man, “that I am the angel of death; the first day you saw me in the shape of a dragon, it was the decree of the Almighty that those men and beasts that were my victims should meet their death by that means. Providence had foreordained that the young prince and the son of the minister should die by the sting of a serpent, and I accordingly assumed the form of a serpent. I became a lion, and slew the beautiful youth; such was his fate. As to the two brothers, they were destined to leave their homes and serve abroad, and after a certain period, when they had earned and amassed some money, it was ordained that they should proceed on their return to their own country, and in the course of their journey that they should kill one another on account of a woman; I therefore assumed the form of a woman to fulfil the divine decree. In the village where you last saw me, it was the lot of the people whom I slew to fall by a buffalo; I therefore became a buffalo on that occasion. Be you assured, oh, Hatim! that it is not in the power of one man to slay another; but in whatever way a man’s fate is decreed, by that means only he loses his life.” Hatim, on hearing this, asked the angel of death, “Tell me truly what fate is ordained for me?” The aged man replied, “Suffice it to say that more than half your life-time is yet to pass.”—“But,” rejoined Hatim, “may I not learn from you the whole truth?”—“Know, then,” replied the king of terrors, “that when you have attained the age of two hundred years, you shall fall by the hand of Omnipotence. A stream of blood shall flow from your nostrils, by which you will experience some slight pain, and afterwards for a short time recover. In that period your hand shall be stretched out as usual in deeds of charity to your fellow-creatures; and shortly after, the flux of blood shall again issue from your nostrils, and thus you shall die. Meanwhile a long life is before you; go on, then, and shrink not from your noble task of relieving the sorrows and promoting the happiness of mankind.”

When Hatim heard all this, he bent his head to the dust in prayer to God, and when he arose, he looked around him, but the old man had vanished from his sight. He then betook himself to the prosecution of his journey towards the Red Desert, and in the course of a few months he found himself far beyond the habitations of men, in the midst of a wilderness where no water was to be found. Hungry and thirsty as he was, he still continued his route, his whole subsistence consisting of the wild fruits and weeds of the desert. In this way he journeyed for some time, when lo! one day, to his utter astonishment, he came to a place where the heavens and the earth wore a dark hue, and every object he saw was black. This place was the abode of the black serpents, which, when they scented Hatim, rushed upon him from all quarters in order to devour him. He threw upon the ground the talismanic staff of Mahyur the genius, and sat down upon it, safe by its magic power. The serpents continued to rear their crests and with a hissing noise to move round him in endless contortions the whole night. When daylight appeared, he took his staff in his hand, and continued his march secure from the venom of the snakes, and thus he journeyed on till he reached the boundaries of the land of darkness. Contiguous to this lay the white regions, which Hatim began to explore. Here every object was possessed of the most brilliant whiteness, so that the whole place seemed made of alabaster. At the same time white serpents of prodigious size endeavored from a distance to inhale him with their poisonous breath; but on account of his charmed staff their efforts were of no avail, nor had they the power of approaching him. In the course of a few days, Hatim succeeded in making his way through these dangerous realms, and next arrived in a region where every object he beheld was green as emerald. There, too, abounded serpents of a green color, and when they saw Hatim they quickly surrounded him, and were it not for the virtue of his talisman, his days would have been short. Hatim, however, unhurt, surmounted a thousand perils and difficulties as he travelled through the evergreen regions; and at length he arrived in an extensive tract of land, which to him seemed to be wrapt in flames, and this he knew to be the Red Desert.

There every object was red as vermilion, and ere Hatim had advanced many steps the heat became so intolerable that he almost lost the power of walking. He thought within his heart that it would be impossible to proceed any further; but, again, he said to himself: “Oh, Hatim! in doing a good action, whatever happens, let it come, even were the difficulties a thousand times more severe than the present.” By the time he had advanced a farasang his feet were full of blisters, and his thirst was so excessive that he was compelled to rest at every step.

“Now,” thought Hatim, “my dying hour is come; if I wished to return, I have not even the power; and if I advance, I shall assuredly perish. But at the same time I cannot live here.” Having made this resolution, he continued to move slowly onwards, till by the time he had advanced another farasang, he became exhausted, and his thirst was so extreme that he sunk upon the ground and lay like one dead, his whole body covered with blisters.

While he lay senseless in this state, an aged man came up to him, and seizing his hand, raised him from the earth, and said to him, “Oh, Hatim! here you have no cause for despair; why do you not avail yourself of the talisman given you by the bear’s daughter?” Hatim collected his scattered senses, and speedily producing the talisman put it in his mouth, which was no sooner done than the heat of the Red Desert ceased to oppress him, and his blisters were healed. Hatim then prostrated himself at the feet of his aged monitor, and said, “Most venerable sir, tell me what is the cause of this excessive heat?” The old man replied, “This heat is caused by the red serpents that haunt the desert. They are of immense size, and from their mouths they breathe volumes of flame and clouds of smoke, hence the fiery hue of every object you behold.” Hatim, however, secure under the effects of the talisman which he carried in his mouth, went fearlessly on, and felt not the least inconvenience from the scorching heat.

When he had penetrated as far as the centre of the Red Desert, the fire-breathing serpents espied him, and began to rear their heads and crests aloft like tall trees. From their nostrils issued streams of flame as it were from a furnace, and with tremendous hissing they assailed him on all sides, intending to scorch him to death and reduce his bones to ashes. But owing to the charmed muhra of the bear’s daughter, the attack of the snakes fell upon Hatim like a current of cool water. Meanwhile the serpents increased in number, and were about to overpower him with their pestiferous and scorching breath. He at last threw upon the ground the magic staff of Mahyur, the king of the genii, and such was its wonderful effect, that when he stood upon it no snake could come within reach of him. The serpents overawed, remained at a distance; and notwithstanding their utmost efforts for the whole of that night, they were not able to do him the least harm. When daylight appeared, Hatim observed that the largest of the red serpents had in its mouth the muhra which he wished to procure, but never allowed it to drop upon the ground. He took his magic staff, and aiming it at the head of the serpent, struck it such a blow as made it recoil upon itself and roll amidst the dust. There the snake lay stunned till the sun arose, when it revived, and dropping the muhra, slowly dragged itself to its den. Hatim quickly ran to take up his treasure, but from its brilliant appearance he hesitated to lay hold of it, thinking that it was as hot as fire. He stood for some time viewing the muhra, and at length he tore a piece of cloth from his turban, and by way of experiment placed it upon the shining jewel. When he observed that the cloth was not burnt, he ventured to take the muhra in his hand and carefully wrapped it in a fold of his turban.

The moment Hatim had the muhra in his possession, he was surprised in finding that the heat of the desert no longer remained, and the objects around him assumed a verdant hue. Now this muhra was possessed of the rarest qualities, to the number of a thousand and one, of which we may mention the following:—The first was, that the possessor of it should never be drowned; the second, that he should be secured from any bad effects of fire; the third quality that was inherent in this pearl was, that it restored sight to the blind; the fourth, that it cured the bite of a snake or any other venomous creature; the fifth, he who had it with him in war was sure of obtaining victory; the sixth, he should be endeared alike to friend and foe; the seventh, all four-footed and winged animals should be obedient to his commands; the eighth was, that he should excel in wisdom; the ninth, that his wealth should be boundless; but it would be tedious to detail the whole.

In fine, Hatim returned with the muhra, and in the course of time he came to the place where he left the young soldier. He saluted him, and resigning the precious treasure into his hands, he said to him, “Go now and present this to the magician.” The young man prostrated himself at the feet of Hatim, and the latter having raised him up, related to him all the occurrences of his journey, and described to him the regions of the serpents. The two friends then proceeded together to the capital of the magician, and the youthful soldier having obtained an interview of his Majesty, presented him with the muhra, in the procuring of which, he stated, that he had undergone a thousand toils, and encountered perils innumerable. “That,” replied the magician, “I shall soon put to the proof.”—“With all my heart,” said the youth; and accordingly the magician commenced a strict inquiry respecting the Red Desert, the serpents, and the other particulars, all of which the soldier answered to his satisfaction.

The magician, highly delighted with the treasure he thus possessed, said to the young man, “There now remains only one task to be accomplished, which is, that you will plunge bare of your clothing into a cauldron full of boiling oil; are you prepared to comply with the same?” The youth replying in the affirmative, the magician issued orders to his people to place the iron cauldron on the furnace, fill it with oil, and with a strong fire heat the same till it boiled. The attendants of the magician immediately executed this order, and so heated the oil that if a stone were cast into it, it would have instantly dissolved. Meanwhile the soldier returned to Hatim, and said to him, “Alas, my benefactor! I have yet to fulfil the severest of his Majesty’s conditions. He expects me to cast myself into a cauldron full of boiling oil, and if I come out unhurt, I am to be honored with the hand of his daughter. But, I would ask you, is it in the power of mortal man to undergo such an ordeal, and escape with life?”

“Be not disheartened,” said Hatim; “even in this conjuncture I can ensure your success.” He then produced the talisman of the bear, and presenting it to the young soldier, he said to him, “Take this muhra in your mouth, and you may without the least hesitation cast yourself into the boiling liquid.” The youth, still incredulous, shuddered at the idea; and Hatim swore to him by all that was sacred that he should come by no harm. The soldier at length took the talisman as advised, and having ascended the steps that led to the mouth of the boiler, he looked at the burning liquid foaming furiously like a troubled sea, and all firmness left his heart. Hatim then exclaimed to him, “Are you a man? Is such fear consistent with your love?” When the young soldier heard this from Hatim, he hesitated no longer, but shutting his eyes threw himself into the midst of the boiler. To his surprise, the oil that had been heated to the utmost had no more effect upon him than cool water. He walked slowly from one side of the boiler to the other, and in presence of the magician began to lift in his hands the fiery liquid and sprinkle it on his body. When some time had elapsed, the soldier thus addressed the magician, “Most mighty king, what is your decision now? Shall I come out or remain here longer?” When the king saw that the soldier still lived, he held down his head in thoughtfulness, and a trembling seized his soul, as he said, “Young man, I am satisfied; come out at once.” But no sooner had the soldier accomplished this third task, than the magician, unwilling to fulfil his promise, began to assail him with enchantment. Hatim, however, came to his assistance, and warned the king of the magicians, saying, “Your arts are of no effect upon this youth, for he has a talisman more potent than the muhra of the red serpent; you must therefore fulfil what you have promised him.” The magician, thus surpassed in his art, embraced the young soldier as a sign of friendship, and having made the necessary preparations, gave him his daughter in marriage, and with the utmost suavity said to him, “Now, my son, you are to consider all my wealth as your own, for I have no other male heir on whom to bestow it.”

When Hatim saw the two lovers united in wedlock, he took leave of the happy bridegroom, and departed in prosecution of his journey. In the course of time he arrived at the foot of the mountain Alka, which was so high that none of the feathered tribes had wings sufficient to reach its summit. There he halted for a moment, in order to consider what course to take, and said in his heart, “Of whom can I receive information respecting this strange place, and who shall direct me on my way?” While these reflections occupied his mind, he espied a troop of beautiful fairies tripping along the brow of the mountain, and without further delay he followed them. After he had traced the fairies to some distance up the hill, they suddenly disappeared and left him in solitude. Hatim, astonished, looked around him, and saw in the side of the mountain a cave, which seemed to be formed from a solid rock of marble. The entrance into it was a steep descent into the bowels of the earth along the marble rock, which was as smooth as glass. Hatim hesitated whether he should enter, as egress seemed to be impossible; for no human foot could rest upon this steep and slippery path.

On further consideration, however, Hatim resolved to enter; and having laid himself upon the smooth stone, he let go his hold and commenced his rapid descent. For the whole of that day he continued to slide downwards, and at evening he found himself landed on level ground. There he opened his eyes, and beheld around him an extensive field delightful to the sight. He rose up and sought a place wherein to repose till day, when he resolved to go in quest of the fairies, as he had reason to suppose that they too had descended into the cave. When the darkness of night had withdrawn, Hatim began to traverse those strange regions, and had not gone far when an edifice of splendid appearance met his view. This was nothing less than the palace of the fairies, and thither he directed his steps. When he approached the mansion, the fairies observed him, and cried out, “Are you aware, son of Adam, that these are our regions, not yours? how came you here, and who has been your conductor?”—“He who has ever been my guide,” replied Hatim, “conducted me hither.”—“And how,” rejoined the fairies, “did you discover the descent into this subterraneous abode?”—“I saw you,” he replied; “as you passed along the mountain, and followed you till you vanished from my sight; on searching around me, however, I observed the entrance into the cave, and laying myself on the smooth inclined stone, my descent was rapid. Now that I have found you, tell me what is the name of this region, and who is its sovereign?”

“This,” replied the fairies, “is the mountain of Alka, and the sovereign of these realms is Alkanpari. We are the guardians of this paradise, where our fairy queen resides during the season of spring, and to-morrow we expect her arrival here to enjoy the delights of the garden. Our permitting you to remain then is impossible, for it would be death both to ourselves and you; but now that you are here you must be ruled by us, and we will save your life, for we bear you no enmity.” To this Hatim answered, “Whither can I flee for refuge, for verily there is no escape; and besides, I have undergone all the toils and perils of my journey in order to obtain an interview with your queen, who is now so opportunely about to visit this garden; I will therefore remain here, happen what will.”—“And what,” said the fairies, “may be your business with our gracious queen? You are a poor man, and she is sovereign of the fairy realms.”—“Have you never heard,” replied Hatim, “of a fairy’s being in love with one of the human race, or of a man’s being enamoured of a fairy?”—“In truth,” rejoined the fairies, “you seem to be weary of your own life, to utter such language in our presence.”—“You may judge,” said Hatim, “how little I care for my life by my venturing hither.”

On hearing this reply, all the fairies rushed upon Hatim and began to assail him; but he stood firm, and neither warded off nor returned their blows. His assailants ceased from their attacks, and wondered in their own minds what sort of a man he was that would neither fight nor run away: they therefore, relenting, said to him, “Strange youth, we warn you, out of compassion, to remain no longer here; this place is not fitted for your residence, and if you disregard our advice, it will be at the risk of your life.” To this Hatim replied, “I am not afraid of death, for I had freed myself from the love of life, and placed my reliance upon the supreme Creator, ere I entered your territories.” The fairies, pleased with his courage, addressed Hatim in a tone of reconciliation, and said, “O youth, eloquent of speech, come with us, and we shall conceal you in a secret avenue; and if you are anxious to behold our queen Alkanpari, we shall point her out to you from a distance.”

Hatim expressed his consent; and the fairies conveying him to an unfrequented part of the garden gave him food and fruits wherewith to appease his hunger, and brought him water to drink. Charmed with his society, they crowded around him, and after various conversation, they said to him, “Tell us truly, brave youth, what has been the object of your journey hither?” Hatim replied, “My business with your queen is this: she once had an interview with a young friend of mine; and left him at a certain tree, with a promise that she would return to him in the space of seven days. The youth has now waited there upwards of seven years in expectation of the fulfilment of her promise; his soul is on the eve of quitting his body. At short intervals, he exclaims, ‘Come, oh come! for I can no longer endure thy absence.’ I happened to observe his miserable plight, and twice to no purpose I asked him the cause of his sorrow: at length, finding that I persisted in my inquiries, he told me the whole occurrence. On hearing his tale, my heart glowed with pity; and for the sake of affording him relief, I have journeyed hither. My object is to remind your queen of her promise, as it is most likely that she has ere now forgotten it.”

When the fairies heard this statement, they said to Hatim, “Generous man, we dare not take upon ourselves to represent your case to our queen, but we can carry you bound as captive before her, and then you can exert all your eloquence in behalf of your friend. Were we to introduce you designedly to her Majesty, we should incur her displeasure.”—“Let me be presented to your queen,” rejoined Hatim, “in whatever way is most convenient to you; when once in her presence, I shall know how to proceed. I shall consider myself happy if I can promote the suit of my helpless and despairing friend.”

In the course of three days, the queen, accompanied by troops of fairies, issued from her palace, and proceeded towards the garden where Hatim lay concealed. At length, she arrived in that paradise, and after she had rested a little, and received the homage of her subjects there, one of the fairies who were friendly to Hatim went to him privately, and said, “Come with me, and I will point out to you our queen, where you may behold her unobserved.” Hatim followed the fairy, who led him by a private path to the entrance of a grotto close to the spot where the queen was seated on her throne of gold. When Hatim beheld her angelic form, he lost hold of the reins of reason. For some time he lay senseless; and when consciousness returned into his frame, in vain did he betake himself to prayer, and endeavor to flee unto the Lord for protection. In fact, he became more frantic and more enamoured of the beautiful fairy than the youth whose cause he had undertaken. Hatim thus spent three days and nights, forgetful of his friend, and regardless of food and drink. On the fourth night a feverish sleep overpowered his eyelids, and in his confused slumbers he heard a voice exclaiming, “Oh, Hatim! arise and know thyself; hast thou not devoted thy life to the service of thy Creator, and wilt thou now permit thyself to be guilty of a breach of trust?”

On hearing this warning voice, Hatim awoke from his dream, but saw no one near him. He rose up, and with fear and trembling prayed to God to forgive his transgressions, and support him in this hour of trial. On seeing some of the fairies, he entreated them to conduct him before the queen. They told him, as formerly, “We dare not openly comply with your request, but we can carry you into the royal presence with your hands bound as a prisoner.”—“In whatever way you choose,” said Hatim, “present me to her Majesty, that I may describe to her the condition of my despairing friend.” The fairies made their arrangements, and having found a favorable moment when the queen was in a joyous mood, they approached her Highness by the garden gate; and one of them advancing, after due obeisance said, “O queen, one of the race of Adam has somehow found his way to the gate of our paradise; we have bound him fast, and are waiting your Majesty’s pleasure as to his future disposal.”

On hearing this, the fairy queen thought of her lover, whom she had left under the tree, and considered it as likely that the youth had thus traced her to her abode; she therefore ordered her attendants to conduct their prisoner into her presence. The fairies accordingly laid hold of Hatim, and were bringing him forward to the foot of the throne. When the queen beheld his majestic mien, all thoughts of her former lover vanished. She desired him to approach, and having ordered for him a chair of burnished gold, she took him by the hand, and made him sit near her. The fairy queen then addressing Hatim, said, “Tell us, noble youth, whence came you, and what is your name; what has been your object in coming hither, and how have you been able to accomplish the journey?” Hatim, now seated before the beautiful fairy, became speechless, and was unable to give any reply. The queen observed his confusion, and secretly rejoiced to find that the arrow of her enchanting glances had pierced his heart. In accents of extreme affection, she again said to him, “Brave youth, what is the cause of your silence; have you nothing to say in reply?” Hatim, at length, rallied his thoughts, and said, “O queen, my answer is brief; I came from the country of Yemen, and my name is Hatim.”

The moment the queen heard this, she gracefully arose, and taking Hatim by the hand, seated him on her own throne, saying, “I have ere now heard of Hatim, prince of Yemen; numerous indeed, brave prince, are the acts of kindness and generosity which you have done to your fellow-creatures; but tell me now the cause of your coming hither, and why you have undergone such toils and perils. Be assured that I am one of your admirers, so you may freely speak your thoughts without fear of giving offence.”

Hatim, thus encouraged, spoke: “O queen of the fairy realms, your kindness is beyond measure: had I a thousand tongues I should still be unable to celebrate your noble qualities. Be it known, then, that I have come before your Majesty in the fulfilment of a promise which I made to a certain enamoured swain. It happened, as I was journeying to the desert of Himyar, that I passed by a young man, from whose eyes flowed tears like a shower from the clouds in spring. Owing to his intense sorrow and lamentation, his soul was almost driven from his body; indeed, I question if he now lives. There he lay with his eyes shut, exclaiming in the intervals of his sighs, ‘Come, oh come! for I can no longer endure thy absence.’ I asked him the cause of his sorrow, and how he had been reduced into so miserable a state. After some hesitation he told me all: how your Majesty had met with him, and shewed him affection and kindness. ‘Alkanpari,’ said the wailing youth, ‘promised me at her departure to return in seven days; and now for seven long years I have waited in misery and woe, expecting her return. Here I cannot remain, and hence I dare not depart; for when my angel left me, she laid upon me strict injunctions to move not hence; I cannot, then, disobey her command, and proceed in search of her. If fate has decreed that we should again meet, it must be on this spot.’ When I saw the woful condition of this wretched man, and found that his love was sincere, I deferred the prosecution of my own journey, and hastened hither. I hope, then, your Majesty will treat with kindness and compassion the despairing lover. This will lay the highest obligation on me, the humblest of your slaves.”

To this Alkanpari said, in reply, “Generous prince of Arabia! I had entirely forgotten the circumstance you mention, till my people informed me of your arrival here; and then I thought it probable that you might be my former lover. However, the moment I saw you, I found that you were not the man; and now I confess to you that he is unworthy of my regard. His love for me must be very cool indeed, since, out of pure timidity, he has lingered seven years in one spot, and has not had the courage to venture hither in quest of me. I pointed out to him the road, and told him my own name and that of the mountain which I inhabit, and had he been a true lover, he would have followed me, were it at the peril of his life.”

Hatim, in favor of the young man, rejoined, “Had his passion been otherwise than sincere, he could not have so drunk of the cup of affection nor have undergone such misery from the remembrance of you. You exacted from him a solemn promise at parting, and how could the poor lover act contrary to your commands? The enamoured youth is conscious of his own integrity, for when you departed you strictly enjoined him to remain underneath the tree till your arrival, and accordingly he has not stirred thence till now, lest in his absence you should return and not find him; in which case he would stand convicted of having disobeyed your orders, and thus incur your displeasure.”

The fairy queen lent a deaf ear to all that he could urge, and utterly disowned her former lover. Hatim however, persevered, saying, “For heaven’s sake let my labor not be in vain; consider through what toils and hardships I have accomplished my journey hither.”—“Well,” replied the queen relenting, “I cannot refuse what you request; this youth I will permit to come near me, but I will neither associate with him nor consider him as a companion.”—“And why not,” said Hatim, “accept him as your lover? What is the cause of such a change of mind?”—“Such is my pleasure,” replied the queen, “and it shall not be otherwise.”—“If such be your resolution,” rejoined Hatim, “I will stand fasting at your gates; and, till the hand of death seize me, I will night and day complain to heaven of your cruelty.”

Having thus spoken, he quitted the presence of the fairy queen, and having removed underneath the shade of a tree, there he remained for seven days without tasting food or drinking water. On the eighth night, as he fell asleep, an old man appeared to him in a dream, and said, “Brave Hatim, be of good cheer; this beautiful fairy has more than one lover that laments her treachery: but you must first bring your friend hither, and then cause him to take the talisman given you by the bear’s daughter, and steep it in a goblet full of pure water. This draught will then ferment into a sherbet, and you must contrive that the queen shall drink of it, which, God willing, will be the means of restoring her affection.”

Hatim awoke from his dream, and as he was meditating on what had occurred, the dawn appeared. Meanwhile, approached the fairy queen: she stood before him, and said, “O Hatim, why do you thus persist in rejecting my hospitality? If you perish from want at my gates, shall I not on the day of judgment be arraigned as the cause of your death, and what will be my answer before the Supreme Judge?”—“O queen,” said Hatim in reply, “let me prevail on you to send for my love-sick friend, that he may be blessed even with the sight of your countenance.”—“Assuredly,” replied the queen, “I have no objection whatever to his being near me.”

When Hatim heard this, he made preparations to return for his friend; but the fairy queen said to him, “You need not, Hatim, expose yourself to the perils of such a journey a second time; my fairies will do the work much more speedily.” Her Majesty then summoned a few of her subjects, and despatched them in quest of her lover, saying, “On the brow of a certain mountain, reclining underneath a tree, you will find a young man bewailing the cruelty of his mistress. Tell him that Alkanpari requests his immediate attendance; that she has been reminded of her promise to him by Hatim, prince of Yemen.”

The fairies, with the speed of the wind, transported themselves to the spot where the youth lay, and delivered to him the orders of their mistress. Joyfully he heard the message, and expressed his obligations to the generous Hatim. The fairies then carried him along with them, and in the course of that same day presented him to Alkanpari their sovereign, which rendered his happiness complete. For some minutes his eyes were fixed on the beautiful fairy, till at length his senses forsook him and he fell lifeless upon the ground. The queen sprinkled some fragrant attar of roses on his face; and as soon as he recovered, she addressed him in the accents of kindness, saying, “Enamoured youth! I permit you to remain near me, and you may feast your eyes by beholding me as long as you please.” For the whole of that day the lover looked at nothing but the beautiful fairy, the fire of whose eyes consumed his heart. When the mantle of night was spread over them, the queen gave a signal, and troops of fairies entered, some with lights and music, to whose harmonious sounds the others danced. Amidst this scene of joy, Hatim saw that the fairy queen paid not the least regard to the sufferings of his friend. He went near the latter and said, “Despair not; take this muhra and immerse it for a few minutes in a cup full of pure water, which you shall pour into the goblet from which the queen is wont to drink: this done, return and take up your station here.” The young man did as Hatim directed him; and after he had mixed the elixir, and poured the same into the queen’s goblet, one of the fairies happened to observe him, and said, “Base mortal! how dare you touch the goblet of her Highness?”

The youth assured the fairy that he merely wished for some water to drink, as he felt very thirsty. The fairy immediately gave him a drink of water from another cup, and sent him back to his former station. Hatim was an anxious spectator of the occurrence; and when he saw that his friend had succeeded according to his wish, he approached the queen’s throne, and said to her, “Will your Majesty be pleased to drink some sherbet, as the weather is warm?” The queen expressed her assent, and ordered her attendants to bring some. Hatim, however, undertook to be cup-bearer himself on the occasion; and having with his own hands prepared the sherbet, he brought the goblet to the queen. Her Majesty was about to hand the draught to some of her intimate friends who were then with her, but Hatim observed that the laws of courtesy required that the queen should drink first, and then such of her friends as she might deem proper to honor with the goblet.

The fairy queen drank copiously of the sherbet. In an instant the reins of her heart fell from her hands, and she became deeply enamoured of the dying swain. Pierced with the darts of love, she rose up in order to fly to his arms, while Hatim secretly rejoiced to see her affection thus restored. He also stood up, and said to her, “O queen of the fairy realms, how comes it that you are now so kindly disposed towards your lover, who had almost become a martyr to your cruelty during the long period of your absence?”—“O Hatim!” replied the queen, “all this mischief is of your doing; however, I forgive you, and this youth I will accept as my husband, agreeably to your desire: at the same time I dare not take so important a step without the consent of my parents.”

Having thus spoken, the fairy queen, accompanied by her select guards, flew with the swiftness of thought to her principal residence in the mountain of Alka. There she first waited on her mother, who said to her in surprise, “My dear daughter, six months are yet to pass of the period you proposed to reside in the gardens; why return you then at this unseasonable hour of midnight?” The beautiful Alkanpari stood speechless, and motioned to her attendants to explain the cause of her visit. They stated that the fairy queen had fallen in love with a youth of the race of Adam, and that the flame was mutual; that the lovers had met upwards of seven years past, but that the queen had for a long period abandoned her swain to the pangs of absence and despair, till lately he found means of discovering her residence; and that she is now willing to accept him as her husband, provided she obtain the consent of her parents.

The mother, immediately on hearing this, went and represented the affair to the father, who said in reply, “If such be the wish of our daughter, I am satisfied; why should we prevent her?” The queen having received the consent of her parents, immediately sent messengers for her lover and Hatim, who were soon in attendance. When they arrived at the palace, the beautiful queen presented the young man to her mother. The mother commended him to the father, who without more delay made preparations for the marriage, and according to the usages of the fairy race, gave the hand of his daughter to Hatim’s friend.

When the enamoured pair were thus joined in the bands of wedlock, the young man in grateful terms expressed his obligations to Hatim, who remained with him seven days, and then took leave, in order to prosecute his journey. When about to depart, the queen inquired of Hatim to what part of the world he intended to travel; and when he told her, “To the mountains of Himyar,” she said to him, “Noble Hatim, give yourself no concern about your journey; Himyar is indeed a long way off, but my fairies shall convey you thither with the utmost speed.”

The queen summoned a few of her subjects, and gave them her instructions respecting the mountain of Himyar. They then placed Hatim on a howdah, and carried him through the air with such speed that in the course of twenty-four hours they laid him down at the wished-for stage. Hatim had no sooner arrived than he heard the voice of the man who exclaimed, “Do evil to no one; if you do, evil will overtake you.”

When Hatim heard this welcome sound, he requested the fairies to leave him, as he now considered himself at the end of his journey, and had occasion to stay for some time in these parts. The fairies accordingly took their leave and departed, while Hatim proceeded in the direction of the voice which had struck his ear. He had not far advanced when he observed an old man confined in a cage which was suspended to the branch of a tree. Hatim stood silent for a short time viewing with wonder the inmate of the cage, who once more exclaimed, “Do evil to none; if you do, evil will overtake you.”

Hatim went close to the prisoner, and said to him, “Tell me, unfortunate man, what mean these words which you utter; and why are you confined in this cage, and suspended to the branch of the tree?”—“Ask me no questions,” replied the old man, “unless you wish to mend my condition and afford me relief. If you desire to hear my secrets, you must give me a sacred promise that you will not communicate the same to any one else.” To this Hatim assented, saying, “I give you my promise, and I am ready to confirm it by oath.” The old man then proceeded with his history: “I am by occupation a merchant, and my name is Hamir. When I became of age, my father had finished the building of this city, and he called the same after my name. Shortly after, my father departed on a sea voyage, and left me in charge of the city. I was a free-hearted youth, and in a short time expended all the property left under my care by my father. Thus I became surrounded with poverty and want; and as I knew that my father had hidden treasures somewhere in his house, I resolved to discover them if possible. I searched everywhere, but found nothing; and to complete my woe, I received the news of my father’s death, the ship in which he sailed being wrecked.

“One day as I was sauntering, mournful and dejected, through the bazar, I espied a learned man who cried out, ‘If any one has lost his money by theft or otherwise, my knowledge of the occult sciences enables me to recover the same, but on condition that I receive one-fourth of the amount.’ When I heard this proclamation, I immediately approached the man of science, and stated to him my condition, and how I had been reduced from affluence to poverty. The sage undertook to restore my wealth, and above all to discover the treasures concealed in my father’s house. I conducted him to my house and showed him every apartment, which he carefully examined one after another. At length by his art he discovered the stores we were in search of; and when I saw the gold and silver and other valuables, which exceeded calculation, the demon of fraud entered my heart, and I refused to fulfil my promise of giving a fourth of the property to the man of wisdom. I offered him only a few small pieces of silver; instead of accepting which, he stood for a few moments in silent meditation, and with a look of scorn, said, ‘Do I thus receive the fourth part of your treasure, which you agreed to give me? Base man, of what perjury are you guilty!’

“On hearing this I became enraged; and having struck him several blows on the face, I expelled him from my house. In a few days, however, he returned, and so far ingratiated himself into my confidence that we became intimate friends; and night and day he displayed before my sight the various hidden treasures contained within the bowels of the earth. One day I asked him to instruct me in this wonderful science, to which he answered, that no instruction was requisite. ‘Here,’ said he, ‘is a composition of collyrium, and whoever applies the same to his eyes, to him all the wealth of this world will become visible.’—‘Most learned sir,’ I replied, ‘if you will anoint my eyes with this substance, I promise to share with you the half of all such treasures as I may discover.’—‘I agree,’ said my friend, ‘meanwhile let us retire to the desert, where we shall be free from interruption.’

“We immediately set out, and when we arrived here, I was surprised at seeing this cage, and asked my companion whose it was. I received for answer, that it belonged to no one. Then we both sat down at the foot of this tree, and the sage having produced the collyrium from his pocket, began to apply it to my eyes. But, alas! no sooner had he applied this composition than I became totally deprived of sight. In a voice of sorrow I asked him why he had thus treated me, and he replied, ‘Such is the reward of treachery; and if you wish to recover your sight, you must for some time undergo penance in this cage. You must utter no complaint, and you shall exclaim from time to time, “Do no evil to any one; if you do, evil will befall you.”’

“I entreated the sage to relieve me, saying, ‘You are a mere mortal like myself, and dare you thus torment a fellow-creature? How will you account for your deeds to the Supreme Judge?’ He answered, ‘This is the reward of your treachery.’ Seeing him inexorable, I begged of him to inform me when and how my sight was to be restored; and he told me that a noble youth should one day visit me, and to him I was to make known my condition, and further state, that in the desert of Himyar there is a certain herb called the flower of light, which the youth was to procure and apply to my eyes, by means of which my sight should be restored.

“It is now nearly three years since he left me in this prison, which, though wide open, I cannot quit. Whenever I attempt to leave my confinement, I feel the most excruciating pain in my limbs, so that I have not the power of moving, and thus I am compelled to remain. One day, shortly after my companion left me, I reflected in my own mind that I could do nothing for myself while I continued like a bird in this cage, and accordingly I resolved to quit it at all hazards; but the moment I was outside of it, the pain that seized my whole body almost killed me. I immediately returned into my prison, and have since that time resigned myself to my fate, exclaiming at stated times the words which have already attracted your attention. Many people have in the meantime passed by me; but on hearing my condition, they left me as they found me, without administering to my relief. To-day you have added one more to the number of my visitors: may I ask whether you intend to assist me?”

When Hatim heard this account from the man in the cage, he said to him, in reply, “My friend, be of good cheer, I will instantly endeavor to effect your release”; and without further delay, he proceeded to the desert in search of the flower of light. We have already stated, that the fairies that had conveyed him thither, returned, at his own request, to fairy-land; but when they came before Alkanpari, her Highness immediately ordered them back to attend upon Hatim while in the desert of Himyar, and afterwards to conduct him in safety to Shahabad. Accordingly when Hatim entered the desert he was surprised at again meeting the fairies. They also recognized Hatim, and having stated the whole occurrence, offered him their services, and requested to know whither he was going. “I am going,” replied Hatim, “in search of the flower of light, which grows somewhere in this desert.”—“We shall soon carry you to the spot,” replied the fairies; “at least we can show you from a distance the field where that plant is found; if you return thence with life, we are in attendance in order to convey you to your own country; and should aught evil befall you in your present enterprise, we shall carry the intelligence of it to our mistress.”—“And why,” said Hatim, “will you not accompany me all the way?”—“Our approaching the spot,” replied the fairies, “is useless, and maybe fatal. When this flower is in bloom, the field where it grows is illumined as it were with brilliant lamps; the beautiful light which it emits is such that you will easily see the object of your search; but, on the other hand, around those flowers are stationed thousands of horrible snakes, poisonous scorpions, and other formidable creatures without number, so that even the fowls of heaven cannot approach the deadly spot.”—“Conduct me thither,” rejoined Hatim, “and leave me to manage the rest.”

The fairies lifted Hatim from the ground, and having swiftly traversed the air for the space of seven days, they alighted with him about the time of midnight in an extensive plain. He then asked them to point out to him the flower which he was so eager to pluck, but they told him that the season when it should be in bloom had not yet arrived. He therefore resolved to remain there till the appointed time, and meanwhile the fairies plentifully supplied him from all quarters with food to eat, and fruit and water wherewith to quench his thirst. In a short time the flowers of light began to blossom in the field, each of them brilliant as a lamp, so that the whole plain became a blaze of light. The breezes that blew over the desert were loaded with the sweetest perfume.

Meanwhile serpents, scorpions, and beasts of prey without number, issued from the bosom of the earth, and completely surrounded the illumined flowers. The fairies stood aghast, and Hatim observing their terror, said to them, “Do you keep aloof here so as to be out of danger; I have placed my reliance upon God, and whatever may happen, I will not shrink from my enterprise.” Hatim having made this resolution, took in his hand the talisman of the bear’s daughter, and fearlessly advancing into the midst of the field, he plucked three of the largest and most brilliant flowers, and returned unhurt to his guides. The fairies were astonished at this daring feat, and looked on Hatim as a being far beyond their comprehension. Obedient to his sign, they raised him upon their shoulders, and swiftly winged their way through the air to that part of the desert where Hamir was imprisoned.

Hatim approached him, and said, “Be not sad, my friend, behold the flower which you say will restore your sight.” The blind man expressed his thanks to heaven, and said to Hatim, “Brave youth, be pleased to compress the stalk with your own hands, so that the juice of it may drop into my eyes.” Hatim untied the cage from the branch of the tree, and having released the inmate, he applied the liquid to his eyes as directed. Having repeated this process three times, the blind Hamir at length opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, fell at his feet and offered him a profusion of thanks. Hatim kindly raising him up, said, “My good friend, why make so many acknowledgments? I have devoted myself to the service of my Creator, and I consider the performance of charitable deeds as the most lasting felicity.”

The man addressing Hatim in return, said, “Generous prince! my house abounds with gold and silver and all worldly wealth; accept, then, such portion of it as you may deem proper.”—“Truly, sir,” replied Hatim, “worldly wealth is of no use to me, for already I possess far more than is sufficient for me; I may advise you, however, to expend your treasures in such manner as may be acceptable to God, in the bestowing of food upon the hungry, and in clothing those who are naked.”

Here Hatim took his leave of the old man of the desert, and having mounted his howdah, the fairies carried him through the air with such swiftness that in a few days he arrived in Shahabad. He dismounted at the gates of the city, and the fairies, when about to return, requested of him to favor them with a letter to their queen, certifying his safe arrival. To this, Hatim readily agreed, whereupon his aerial guides took their leave and departed. He no sooner entered the city than Husn Banu’s people recognized him, and with the utmost promptness conducted him before their sovereign lady. Husn Banu received Hatim with the highest kindness, and asked him numerous questions respecting his adventure. Hatim detailed at length all that he had seen and performed in the course of his journey. Husn Banu then presented him with food and drink; but ere Hatim tasted of either, he requested that his friend the prince of Assyria should be invited to partake of his fare. Munir was immediately sent for, and after paying his warmest regard to Hatim, they both sat down and ate together. After they had finished their meal, Hatim, addressing Husn Banu, said, “Noble lady, tell me what is your next question?”—“There is a man,” replied Husn Banu, “who exclaims, ‘He who speaks the truth is always tranquil.’ Go, then, and find out that man; inform me wherein he has spoken the truth, and what degree of tranquillity he enjoys in consequence.”—“May I ask,” said Hatim, “in what quarter of the world this man dwells?”—“That,” said Husn Banu, “is unknown to me, but I have heard from my nurse that the city is called Karam.”—“Enough,” said Hatim, “I trust that God will direct me in this also”; and taking his leave of Husn Banu, he proceeded with his friend Munir to the caravanseraï.