Moral.—Thy kismet is thy fate; when that is good, then the most unfavourable circumstances, or the deepest gloom, cannot prevent its asserting itself.
THE WEAVER
There was a weaver who was unmarried, and all that he could earn in a day, in exchange for the cloth he wove, only amounted to two pounds of either rice or other grain.
One day he cooked some kitcherie,[1] and, placing it in a plate, left it to get cool, and went out to sell his cloth.
While he was away a jackal came and ate up the kitcherie; and on his return he found the jackal, so he tied it up and beat it severely.
Then he cooked some bread, which he ate, and again beat the jackal.
The poor creature thought: “Now my life will go, if this man keeps on beating me in this way.”
When the man next went out to dispose of his cloth, the jackal, tied up by itself, felt very lonely, especially as it could hear its companions howling in the jungles; so it began to howl too, and, hearing it, one of its friends came to see where it was, and finding it, said: “Brother, what are you doing here?”
The poor jackal, bruised all over and swollen with the beating it had received, replied: “Friend, a man has caught me, and takes the greatest care of me; see how fat I have grown with eating all the hulwa-poories[2] he gives me. If you will release me, I will tie you here, and you will get a share of the good things.”