'The shaking of the mosque continued, and he was inspired by a sudden thought that induced him to believe some supernatural agency was employed against the holy house; he therefore called out, "Who and what are ye, who thus sacrilegiously disturb the house of God!" The Genii appeared, and made known to what order of beings they belonged, whose servants they were, and the purpose of their mission.
'"Begone this instant!" replied the pious man, with a tone of authority that deprived them of strength: "a moment's delay, and I will pray that you be consumed by fire! Know ye not that this is a mosque, holy, and erected wherein to do service to the great and only God? Would Sheikh Suddoo add to his enormities by forcing the house of God from its foundation? Away, ye servants of the wicked Sheikh, or meet the fire that awaits you by a moment's further delay!"
'The Genii fled in haste to their profane employer, whose rage was unbounded at their disobedience, as he termed their return without the mosque; he raved, stormed, and reviled his slaves in bitter sarcasms, when they, heartily tired of the Sheikh's servitude, caught up the copper vessel, and, in his struggle to resist the Genii, he was thrown with violence on the ground, when his wicked soul was suddenly separated from his most impure body.'
This story receives many alterations and additions, agreeable to the talent and the inclination of the person relating it in Native society; but as there once was a person on whose history it has been founded, they do not denominate it fabulous or khaunie.[9] The following, which I am about to copy from a translation of my husband's, is really a mere fable; and, however trifling and childish it may appear, I feel bound to insert it, as one among those things which serves to illustrate the character of the people I have undertaken to describe; merely adding, that all these fables prove an unceasing entertainment in the zeenahnah, with females who cannot themselves read, either for amusement or instruction:—
'A certain man was travelling on horseback through an immense forest; and when he came to a particular spot, he observed fire consuming some bushes, in the centre of which was a monstrous large snake. The Snake was in danger of being destroyed by the flames, so he called to the Traveller, in a voice of despair—"Oh! good Sahib, save me, or I perish!"[10]
'The Traveller was a very tender-hearted creature, prone to pity the painful sufferings of every living creature, whether man or animal; and therefore began to devise some scheme for liberating the Snake from the devouring flames. His horse's corn bag, which was made of leather, hung dangling by a rope from the crupper; this, he thought, would be the best thing he could offer to the distressed Snake. Accordingly, holding fast by the rope, he threw the bag towards the flames, and desired the Snake to hasten into it, who immediately accepted the offered aid, and the Traveller drew him out of his perilous situation.
'No sooner was the Snake released from danger, than, ungrateful for the services he had received from the Traveller, he sprang towards him, with the purpose of wounding his deliverer. This, however, he failed to accomplish, for the Traveller drew back in time to escape the attack; and demanded of his enemy his reasons for such base ingratitude, saying—"Have I not saved your life by my prompt assistance? What a worthless reptile art thou! Is this thy mode of rewarding benefits?"—"Oh!" said the Snake, "I am only imitating the way of the world; who ever thinks of returning good for good? No, no! every benefit received by the creature of this world is rewarded to the donor by an ungrateful return. I tell you, good Traveller, I am only following the example set me in the way of the world."
'"I shall not take your word for it," said the Traveller in reply; "but if I can be convinced that what you say is true, you shall be welcome to bite me."—"Agreed," said the Snake; and off they set together in search of adventures.
'The first object they met was a large Pepul-tree[11] whose branches spread out an inviting shelter to the weary traveller to repose under, without rent or tax. The Pepul-tree was asked, "Whether it was consistent with the way of the world for the Snake to try to wound the man who had preserved him from destruction."
'The Pepul-tree replied, "To follow in the way of the world, I should say the Snake was justified. A good return is never now-a-days tendered for a benefit received by mere worldlings, as I can bear witness by my own sufferings. Listen to my complaint:—Here in this solitary jungle, where neither hut nor mansion is to be found, I spread forth my well-clothed branches,—a welcome shelter to the passing traveller from the burning heat of the noontide sun, or the deluge poured out from the over-charged cloud;—-under my cover they cook their meal, and my falling leaves supply them with fuel, as also with a bed on which they may recline their weary limbs. Think you, when they have thus profited by the good I have done them, that they are grateful for my services?—Oh, no! the ingrates despoil the symmetry of my form, break off my branches with violence, and trudge off triumphantly with the spoil which may serve them for fuel for cooking at their next stage. So you see the Snake is right; he has but followed the way of the world."