FOLK-LORE
AND
LEGENDS
ORIENTAL

W. W. GIBBINGS
18 BURY ST., LONDON, W.C.
1889

——

PREFATORY NOTE

The East is rich in Folklore, and the lorist is not troubled to discover material, but to select only that which it is best worth his while to preserve. The conditions under which the people live are most favourable to the preservation of the ancient legends, and the cultivation of the powers of narration fits the Oriental to present his stories in a more polished style than is usual in the Western countries. The reader of these tales will observe many points of similarity between them and the popular fictions of the West—similarity of thought and incident—and nothing, perhaps, speaks more eloquently the universal brotherhood of man than this oneness of folk-fiction. At the same time, the Tales of the East are unique, lighted up as they are by a gorgeous extravagance of imagination which never fails to attract and delight.

C. J. T.

CONTENTS

THE COBBLER ASTROLOGER.

In the great city of Isfahan lived Ahmed the cobbler, an honest and industrious man, whose wish was to pass through life quietly; and he might have done so, had he not married a handsome wife, who, although she had condescended to accept of him as a husband, was far from being contented with his humble sphere of life.

Sittâra, such was the name of Ahmed’s wife, was ever forming foolish schemes of riches and grandeur; and though Ahmed never encouraged them, he was too fond a husband to quarrel with what gave her pleasure. An incredulous smile or a shake of the head was his only answer to her often-told day-dreams; and she continued to persuade herself that she was certainly destined to great fortune.

It happened one evening, while in this temper of mind, that she went to the Hemmâm, where she saw a lady retiring dressed in a magnificent robe, covered with jewels, and surrounded by slaves. This was the very condition Sittâra had always longed for, and she eagerly inquired the name of the happy person who had so many attendants and such fine jewels. She learned it was the wife of the chief astrologer to the king. With this information she returned home. Her husband met her at the door, but was received with a frown, nor could all his caresses obtain a smile or a word; for several hours she continued silent, and in apparent misery. At length she said—

“Cease your caresses, unless you are ready to give me a proof that you do really and sincerely love me.”

“What proof of love,” exclaimed poor Ahmed, “can you desire which I will not give?”

“Give over cobbling; it is a vile, low trade, and never yields more than ten or twelve dinars a day. Turn astrologer! your fortune will be made, and I shall have all I wish, and be happy.”

“Astrologer!” cried Ahmed,—“astrologer! Have you forgotten who I am—a cobbler, without any learning—that you want me to engage in a profession which requires so much skill and knowledge?”

“I neither think nor care about your qualifications,” said the enraged wife; “all I know is, that if you do not turn astrologer immediately I will be divorced from you to-morrow.”

The cobbler remonstrated, but in vain. The figure of the astrologer’s wife, with her jewels and her slaves, had taken complete possession of Sittâra’s imagination. All night it haunted her; she dreamt of nothing else, and on awaking declared she would leave the house if her husband did not comply with her wishes. What could poor Ahmed do? He was no astrologer, but he was dotingly fond of his wife, and he could not bear the idea of losing her. He promised to obey, and, having sold his little stock, bought an astrolabe, an astronomical almanac, and a table of the twelve signs of the zodiac. Furnished with these he went to the market-place, crying, “I am an astrologer! I know the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the twelve signs of the zodiac; I can calculate nativities; I can foretell everything that is to happen!”

No man was better known than Ahmed the cobbler. A crowd soon gathered round him. “What! friend Ahmed,” said one, “have you worked till your head is turned?” “Are you tired of looking down at your last,” cried another, “that you are now looking up at the planets?” These and a thousand other jokes assailed the ears of the poor cobbler, who, notwithstanding, continued to exclaim that he was an astrologer, having resolved on doing what he could to please his beautiful wife.

It so happened that the king’s jeweller was passing by. He was in great distress, having lost the richest ruby belonging to the crown. Every search had been made to recover this inestimable jewel, but to no purpose; and as the jeweller knew he could no longer conceal its loss from the king, he looked forward to death as inevitable. In this hopeless state, while wandering about the town, he reached the crowd around Ahmed and asked what was the matter. “Don’t you know Ahmed the cobbler?” said one of the bystanders, laughing; “he has been inspired, and is become an astrologer.”

A drowning man will catch at a broken reed: the jeweller no sooner heard the sound of the word astrologer, than he went up to Ahmed, told him what had happened, and said, “If you understand your art, you must be able to discover the king’s ruby. Do so, and I will give you two hundred pieces of gold. But if you do not succeed within six hours, I will use all my influence at court to have you put to death as an impostor.”

Poor Ahmed was thunderstruck. He stood long without being able to move or speak, reflecting on his misfortunes, and grieving, above all, that his wife, whom he so loved, had, by her envy and selfishness, brought him to such a fearful alternative. Full of these sad thoughts, he exclaimed aloud, “O woman, woman! thou art more baneful to the happiness of man than the poisonous dragon of the desert!”

The lost ruby had been secreted by the jeweller’s wife, who, disquieted by those alarms which ever attend guilt, sent one of her female slaves to watch her husband. This slave, on seeing her master speak to the astrologer, drew near; and when she heard Ahmed, after some moments of apparent abstraction, compare a woman to a poisonous dragon, she was satisfied that he must know everything. She ran to her mistress, and, breathless with fear, cried, “You are discovered, my dear mistress, you are discovered by a vile astrologer. Before six hours are past the whole story will be known, and you will become infamous, if you are even so fortunate as to escape with life, unless you can find some way of prevailing on him to be merciful.” She then related what she had seen and heard; and Ahmed’s exclamation carried as complete conviction to the mind of the terrified mistress as it had done to that of her slave.

The jeweller’s wife, hastily throwing on her veil, went in search of the dreaded astrologer. When she found him, she threw herself at his feet, crying, “Spare my honour and my life, and I will confess everything!”

“What can you have to confess to me?” exclaimed Ahmed in amazement.

“Oh, nothing! nothing with which you are not already acquainted. You know too well that I stole the ruby from the king’s crown. I did so to punish my husband, who uses me most cruelly; and I thought by this means to obtain riches for myself, and to have him put to death. But you, most wonderful man, from whom nothing is hidden, have discovered and defeated my wicked plan. I beg only for mercy, and will do whatever you command me.”

An angel from heaven could not have brought more consolation to Ahmed than did the jeweller’s wife. He assumed all the dignified solemnity that became his new character, and said, “Woman! I know all thou hast done, and it is fortunate for thee that thou hast come to confess thy sin and beg for mercy before it was too late. Return to thy house, put the ruby under the pillow of the couch on which thy husband sleeps; let it be laid on the side furthest from the door; and be satisfied thy guilt shall never be even suspected.”

The jeweller’s wife returned home, and did as she was desired. In an hour Ahmed followed her, and told the jeweller he had made his calculations, and found by the aspect of the sun and moon, and by the configuration of the stars, that the ruby was at that moment lying under the pillow of his couch, on the side furthest from the door. The jeweller thought Ahmed must be crazy; but as a ray of hope is like a ray from heaven to the wretched, he ran to his couch, and there, to his joy and wonder, found the ruby in the very place described. He came back to Ahmed, embraced him, called him his dearest friend and the preserver of his life, and gave him the two hundred pieces of gold, declaring that he was the first astrologer of the age.

These praises conveyed no joy to the poor cobbler, who returned home more thankful to God for his preservation than elated by his good fortune. The moment he entered the door his wife ran up to him and exclaimed, “Well, my dear astrologer! what success?”

“There!” said Ahmed, very gravely,—“there are two hundred pieces of gold. I hope you will be satisfied now, and not ask me again to hazard my life, as I have done this morning.” He then related all that had passed. But the recital made a very different impression on the lady from what these occurrences had made on Ahmed. Sittâra saw nothing but the gold, which would enable her to vie with the chief astrologer’s wife at the Hemmâm. “Courage!” she said, “courage! my dearest husband. This is only your first labour in your new and noble profession. Go on and prosper, and we shall become rich and happy.”

In vain Ahmed remonstrated and represented the danger; she burst into tears, and accused him of not loving her, ending with her usual threat of insisting upon a divorce.

Ahmed’s heart melted, and he agreed to make another trial. Accordingly, next morning he sallied forth with his astrolabe, his twelve signs of the zodiac, and his almanac, exclaiming, as before, “I am an astrologer! I know the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the twelve signs of the zodiac; I can calculate nativities; I can foretell everything that is to happen!” A crowd again gathered round him, but it was now with wonder, and not ridicule; for the story of the ruby had gone abroad, and the voice of fame had converted the poor cobbler Ahmed into the ablest and most learned astrologer that was ever seen at Isfahan.

While everybody was gazing at him, a lady passed by veiled. She was the wife of one of the richest merchants in the city, and had just been at the Hemmâm, where she had lost a valuable necklace and earrings. She was now returning home in great alarm lest her husband should suspect her of having given her jewels to a lover. Seeing the crowd around Ahmed, she asked the reason of their assembling, and was informed of the whole story of the famous astrologer: how he had been a cobbler, was inspired with supernatural knowledge, and could, with the help of his astrolabe, his twelve signs of the zodiac, and his almanac, discover all that ever did or ever would happen in the world. The story of the jeweller and the king’s ruby was then told her, accompanied by a thousand wonderful circumstances which had never occurred. The lady, quite satisfied of his skill, went up to Ahmed and mentioned her loss, saying: “A man of your knowledge and penetration will easily discover my jewels; find them, and I will give you fifty pieces of gold.”

The poor cobbler was quite confounded, and looked down, thinking only how to escape without a public exposure of his ignorance. The lady, in pressing through the crowd, had torn the lower part of her veil. Ahmed’s downcast eyes noticed this; and wishing to inform her of it in a delicate manner, before it was observed by others, he whispered to her, “Lady, look down at the rent.” The lady’s head was full of her loss, and she was at that moment endeavouring to recollect how it could have occurred. Ahmed’s speech brought it at once to her mind, and she exclaimed in delighted surprise: “Stay here a few moments, thou great astrologer. I will return immediately with the reward thou so well deservest.” Saying this, she left him, and soon returned, carrying in one hand the necklace and earrings, and in the other a purse with the fifty pieces of gold. “There is gold for thee,” she said, “thou wonderful man, to whom all the secrets of Nature are revealed! I had quite forgotten where I laid the jewels, and without thee should never have found them. But when thou desiredst me to look at the rent below, I instantly recollected the rent near the bottom of the wall in the bathroom, where, before undressing, I had hid them. I can now go home in peace and comfort; and it is all owing to thee, thou wisest of men!”

After these words she walked away, and Ahmed returned to his home, thankful to Providence for his preservation, and fully resolved never again to tempt it. His handsome wife, however, could not yet rival the chief astrologer’s lady in her appearance at the Hemmâm, so she renewed her entreaties and threats, to make her fond husband continue his career as an astrologer.

About this time it happened that the king’s treasury was robbed of forty chests of gold and jewels, forming the greater part of the wealth of the kingdom. The high treasurer and other officers of state used all diligence to find the thieves, but in vain. The king sent for his astrologer, and declared that if the robbers were not detected by a stated time, he, as well as the principal ministers, should be put to death. Only one day of the short period given them remained. All their search had proved fruitless, and the chief astrologer, who had made his calculations and exhausted his art to no purpose, had quite resigned himself to his fate, when one of his friends advised him to send for the wonderful cobbler, who had become so famous for his extraordinary discoveries. Two slaves were immediately despatched for Ahmed, whom they commanded to go with them to their master. “You see the effects of your ambition,” said the poor cobbler to his wife; “I am going to my death. The king’s astrologer has heard of my presumption, and is determined to have me executed as an impostor.”

On entering the palace of the chief astrologer, he was surprised to see that dignified person come forward to receive him, and lead him to the seat of honour, and not less so to hear himself thus addressed: “The ways of Heaven, most learned and excellent Ahmed, are unsearchable. The high are often cast down, and the low are lifted up. The whole world depends upon fate and fortune. It is my turn now to be depressed by fate; it is thine to be exalted by fortune.”

His speech was here interrupted by a messenger from the king, who, having heard of the cobbler’s fame, desired his attendance. Poor Ahmed now concluded that it was all over with him, and followed the king’s messenger, praying to God that he would deliver him from this peril. When he came into the king’s presence, he bent his body to the ground, and wished his majesty long life and prosperity. “Tell me, Ahmed,” said the king, “who has stolen my treasure?”

“It was not one man,” answered Ahmed, after some consideration; “there were forty thieves concerned in the robbery.”

“Very well,” said the king; “but who were they? and what have they done with my gold and jewels?”

“These questions,” said Ahmed, “I cannot now answer; but I hope to satisfy your Majesty, if you will grant me forty days to make my calculations.”

“I grant you forty days,” said the king; “but when they are past, if my treasure is not found, your life shall pay the forfeit.”

Ahmed returned to his house well pleased; for he resolved to take advantage of the time allowed him to fly from a city where his fame was likely to be his ruin.

“Well, Ahmed,” said his wife, as he entered, “what news at Court?”

“No news at all,” said he, “except that I am to be put to death at the end of forty days, unless I find forty chests of gold and jewels which have been stolen from the royal treasury.”

“But you will discover the thieves.”

“How? By what means am I to find them?”

“By the same art which discovered the ruby and the lady’s necklace.”

“The same art!” replied Ahmed. “Foolish woman! thou knowest that I have no art, and that I have only pretended to it for the sake of pleasing thee. But I have had sufficient skill to gain forty days, during which time we may easily escape to some other city; and with the money I now possess, and the aid of my former occupation, we may still obtain an honest livelihood.”

“An honest livelihood!” repeated his lady, with scorn. “Will thy cobbling, thou mean, spiritless wretch, ever enable me to go to the Hemmâm like the wife of the chief astrologer? Hear me, Ahmed! Think only of discovering the king’s treasure. Thou hast just as good a chance of doing so as thou hadst of finding the ruby, and the necklace and earrings. At all events, I am determined thou shalt not escape; and shouldst thou attempt to run away, I will inform the king’s officers, and have thee taken up and put to death, even before the forty days are expired. Thou knowest me too well, Ahmed, to doubt my keeping my word. So take courage, and endeavour to make thy fortune, and to place me in that rank of life to which my beauty entitles me.”

The poor cobbler was dismayed at this speech; but knowing there was no hope of changing his wife’s resolution, he resigned himself to his fate. “Well,” said he, “your will shall be obeyed. All I desire is to pass the few remaining days of my life as comfortably as I can. You know I am no scholar, and have little skill in reckoning; so there are forty dates: give me one of them every night after I have said my prayers, that I may put them in a jar, and, by counting them may always see how many of the few days I have to live are gone.”

The lady, pleased at carrying her point, took the dates, and promised to be punctual in doing what her husband desired.

Meanwhile the thieves who had stolen the king’s treasure, having been kept from leaving the city by fear of detection and pursuit, had received accurate information of every measure taken to discover them. One of them was among the crowd before the palace on the day the king sent for Ahmed; and hearing that the cobbler had immediately declared their exact number, he ran in a fright to his comrades, and exclaimed, “We are all found out! Ahmed, the new astrologer, has told the king that there are forty of us.”

“There needed no astrologer to tell that,” said the captain of the gang. “This Ahmed, with all his simple good-nature, is a shrewd fellow. Forty chests having been stolen, he naturally guessed that there must be forty thieves, and he has made a good hit, that is all; still it is prudent to watch him, for he certainly has made some strange discoveries. One of us must go to-night, after dark, to the terrace of this cobbler’s house, and listen to his conversation with his handsome wife; for he is said to be very fond of her, and will, no doubt, tell her what success he has had in his endeavours to detect us.”

Everybody approved of this scheme; and soon after nightfall one of the thieves repaired to the terrace. He arrived there just as the cobbler had finished his evening prayers, and his wife was giving him the first date. “Ah!” said Ahmed, as he took it, “there is one of the forty.”

The thief, hearing these words, hastened in consternation to the gang, and told them that the moment he took his post he had been perceived by the supernatural knowledge of Ahmed, who immediately told his wife that one of them was there. The spy’s tale was not believed by his hardened companions; something was imputed to his fears; he might have been mistaken;—in short, it was determined to send two men the next night at the same hour. They reached the house just as Ahmed, having finished his prayers, had received the second date, and heard him exclaim, “My dear wife, to-night there are two of them!”

The astonished thieves fled, and told their still incredulous comrades what they had heard. Three men were consequently sent the third night, four the fourth, and so on. Being afraid of venturing during the day, they always came as evening closed in, and just as Ahmed was receiving his date, hence they all in turn heard him say that which convinced them he was aware of their presence. On the last night they all went, and Ahmed exclaimed aloud, “The number is complete! To-night the whole forty are here!”

All doubts were now removed. It was impossible that Ahmed should have discovered them by any natural means. How could he ascertain their exact number? and night after night, without ever once being mistaken? He must have learnt it by his skill in astrology. Even the captain now yielded, in spite of his incredulity, and declared his opinion that it was hopeless to elude a man thus gifted; he therefore advised that they should make a friend of the cobbler, by confessing everything to him, and bribing him to secrecy by a share of the booty.

His advice was approved of, and an hour before dawn they knocked at Ahmed’s door. The poor man jumped out of bed, and supposing the soldiers were come to lead him to execution, cried out, “Have patience! I know what you are come for. It is a very unjust and wicked deed.”

“Most wonderful man!” said the captain, as the door was opened, “we are fully convinced that thou knowest why we are come, nor do we mean to justify the action of which thou speakest. Here are two thousand pieces of gold, which we will give thee, provided thou wilt swear to say nothing more about the matter.”

“Say nothing about it!” said Ahmed. “Do you think it possible I can suffer such gross wrong and injustice without complaining, and making it known to all the world?”

“Have mercy upon us!” exclaimed the thieves, falling on their knees; “only spare our lives, and we will restore the royal treasure.”

The cobbler started, rubbed his eyes to see if he were asleep or awake; and being satisfied that he was awake, and that the men before him were really the thieves, he assumed a solemn tone, and said: “Guilty men! ye are persuaded that ye cannot escape from my penetration, which reaches unto the sun and moon, and knows the position and aspect of every star in the heavens. Your timely repentance has saved you. But ye must immediately restore all that ye have stolen. Go straightway, and carry the forty chests exactly as ye found them, and bury them a foot deep under the southern wall of the old ruined Hemmâm, beyond the king’s palace. If ye do this punctually, your lives are spared; but if ye fail in the slightest degree, destruction will fall upon you and your families.”

The thieves promised obedience to his commands and departed. Ahmed then fell on his knees, and returned thanks to God for this signal mark of his favour. About two hours after the royal guards came, and desired Ahmed to follow them. He said he would attend them as soon as he had taken leave of his wife, to whom he determined not to impart what had occurred until he saw the result. He bade her farewell very affectionately; she supported herself with great fortitude on this trying occasion, exhorting her husband to be of good cheer, and said a few words about the goodness of Providence. But the fact was, Sittâra fancied that if God took the worthy cobbler to himself, her beauty might attract some rich lover, who would enable her to go to the Hemmâm with as much splendour as the astrologer’s lady, whose image, adorned with jewels and fine clothes, and surrounded by slaves, still haunted her imagination.

The decrees of Heaven are just: a reward suited to their merits awaited Ahmed and his wife. The good man stood with a cheerful countenance before the king, who was impatient for his arrival, and immediately said, “Ahmed, thy looks are promising; hast thou discovered my treasure?”

“Does your Majesty require the thieves or the treasure? The stars will only grant one or the other,” said Ahmed, looking at his table of astrological calculations. “Your Majesty must make your choice. I can deliver up either, but not both.”

“I should be sorry not to punish the thieves,” answered the king; “but if it must be so, I choose the treasure.”

“And you give the thieves a full and free pardon?”

“I do, provided I find my treasure untouched.”

“Then,” said Ahmed, “if your majesty will follow me, the treasure shall be restored to you.”

The king and all his nobles followed the cobbler to the ruins of the old Hemmâm. There, casting his eyes towards heaven, Ahmed muttered some sounds, which were supposed by the spectators to be magical conjurations, but which were in reality the prayers and thanksgivings of a sincere and pious heart to God for his wonderful deliverance. When his prayer was finished, he pointed to the southern wall, and requested that his majesty would order his attendants to dig there. The work was hardly begun, when the whole forty chests were found in the same state as when stolen, with the treasurer’s seal upon them still unbroken.

The king’s joy knew no bounds; he embraced Ahmed, and immediately appointed him his chief astrologer, assigned to him an apartment in the palace, and declared that he should marry his only daughter, as it was his duty to promote the man whom God had so singularly favoured, and had made instrumental in restoring the treasures of his kingdom. The young princess, who was more beautiful than the moon, was not dissatisfied with her father’s choice; for her mind was stored with religion and virtue, and she had learnt to value beyond all earthly qualities that piety and learning which she believed Ahmed to possess. The royal will was carried into execution as soon as formed. The wheel of fortune had taken a complete turn. The morning had found Ahmed in a wretched hovel, rising from a sorry bed, in the expectation of losing his life; in the evening he was the lord of a rich palace, and married to the only daughter of a powerful king. But this change did not alter his character. As he had been meek and humble in adversity, he was modest and gentle in prosperity. Conscious of his own ignorance, he continued to ascribe his good fortune solely to the favour of Providence. He became daily more attached to the beautiful and virtuous princess whom he had married; and he could not help contrasting her character with that of his former wife, whom he had ceased to love, and of whose unreasonable and unfeeling vanity he was now fully sensible.

THE LEGEND OF THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE OF SHEDDÁD, THE SON OF ’A’D.

It is related that ’Abd Allah, the son of Aboo Kilábeh, went forth to seek a camel that had run away, and while he was proceeding over the deserts of El-Yemen and the district of Seba, he chanced to arrive at a vast city encompassed by enormous fortifications, around the circuit of which were pavilions rising high into the sky. So when he approached it, he imagined that there must be inhabitants within it, of whom he might inquire for his camel; and, accordingly, he advanced, but on coming to it he found that it was desolate, without any one to cheer its solitude.

“I alighted,” says he, “from my she-camel, and tied up her foot; and then, composing my mind, entered the city. On approaching the fortifications, I found that they had two enormous gates, the like of which, for size and height, have never been seen elsewhere in the world, set with a variety of jewels and jacinths, white and red, and yellow and green; and when I beheld this, I was struck with the utmost wonder at it, and the sight astonished me. I entered the fortifications in a state of terror and with a wandering mind, and saw them to be of the same large extent as the city, and to comprise elevated pavilions, every one of these containing lofty chambers, and all of them constructed of gold and silver, and adorned with rubies and chrysolites and pearls and various-coloured jewels. The folding-doors of these pavilions were like those of the fortifications in beauty, and the floors were overlaid with large pearls, and with balls like hazel-nuts, composed of musk and ambergris and saffron. And when I came into the midst of the city, I saw not in it a created being of the sons of Adam; and I almost died of terror. I then looked down from the summits of the lofty chambers and pavilions, and saw rivers running beneath them; and in the great thoroughfare-streets of the city were fruit-bearing trees and tall palm-trees. And the construction of the city was of alternate bricks of gold and silver; so I said within myself, No doubt this is the paradise promised in the world to come.

“I carried away of the jewels which were as its gravel, and the musk that was as its dust, as much as I could bear, and returned to my district, where I acquainted the people with the occurrence. And the news reached Mo’áwiyeh, the son of Aboo Sufyán (who was then Caliph), in the Hejáz; so he wrote to his lieutenant in San’a of El-Yemen, saying, ‘Summon that man, and inquire of him the truth of the matter!’ His lieutenant therefore caused me to be brought, and demanded of me an account of my adventure, and of what had befallen me; and I informed him of what I had seen. He then sent me to Mo’áwiyeh, and I acquainted him also with that which I had seen, but he disbelieved it; so I produced to him some of those pearls and the little balls of ambergris and musk and saffron. The latter retained somewhat of their sweet scent; but the pearls had become yellow and discoloured.

“At the sight of these Mo’áwiyeh wondered, and he sent and caused Kaab el-Ahbár to be brought before him, and said to him, ‘O Kaab el-Ahbár, I have called thee on account of a matter of which I desire to know the truth, and I hope that thou mayest be able to certify me of it.’ ‘And what is it, O Prince of the Faithful?’ asked Kaab el-Ahbár. Mo’áwiyeh said, ‘Hast thou any knowledge of the existence of a city constructed of gold and silver, the pillars whereof are of chrysolite and ruby, and the gravel of which is of pearls, and of balls like hazel-nuts, composed of musk and ambergris and saffron?’ He answered, ‘Yes, O Prince of the Faithful! It is Irem Zat-el-’Emád, the like of which hath never been constructed in the regions of the earth; and Sheddád, the son of ’A’d the Greater, built it.’ ‘Relate to us,’ said Mo’áwiyeh, ‘somewhat of its history.’ And Kaab el-Ahbár replied thus:—

“‘’A’d the Greater had two sons, Shedeed and Sheddád, and when their father perished they reigned conjointly over the countries after him, and there was no one of the kings of the earth who was not subject to them. And Shedeed the son of ’A’d died, so his brother Sheddád ruled alone over the earth after him. He was fond of reading the ancient books; and when he met with the description of the world to come, and of paradise, with its pavilions and lofty chambers, and its trees and fruits, and of the other things in paradise, his heart enticed him to construct its like on the earth, after this manner which hath been above mentioned. He had under his authority a hundred thousand kings, under each of whom were a hundred thousand valiant chieftains, and under each of these were a hundred thousand soldiers. And he summoned them all before him, and said to them, “I find in the ancient books and histories the description of the paradise that is in the other world, and I desire to make its like upon the earth. Depart ye therefore to the most pleasant and most spacious vacant tract in the earth, and build for me in it a city of gold and silver, and spread, as its gravel, chrysolites and rubies and pearls, and as the supports of the vaulted roofs of that city make columns of chrysolite, and fill it with pavilions, and over the pavilions construct lofty chambers, and beneath them plant, in the by-streets and great-thoroughfare streets, varieties of trees bearing different kinds of ripe fruits, and make rivers to run beneath them in channels of gold and silver.” To this they all replied, “How can we accomplish that which thou hast described to us, and how can we procure the chrysolites and rubies and pearls that thou hast mentioned?” But he said, “Know ye not that the kings of the world are obedient to me, and under my authority, and that no one who is in it disobeyeth my command?” They answered, “Yes, we know that.” “Depart then,” said he, “to the mines of chrysolite and ruby, and to the places where pearls are found, and gold and silver, and take forth and collect their contents from the earth, and spare no exertions. Take also for me, from the hands of me, such of those things as ye find, and spare none, nor let any escape you; and beware of disobedience!”

“‘He then wrote a letter to each of the kings in the regions of the earth, commanding them to collect all the articles of the kinds above mentioned that their subjects possessed, and to repair to the mines in which these things were found, and extract the precious stones that they contained, even from the beds of the seas. And they collected the things that he required in the space of twenty years; after which he sent forth the geometricians and sages, and labourers and artificers, from all the countries and regions, and they dispersed themselves through the deserts and wastes, and tracts and districts, until they came to a desert wherein was a vast open plain, clear from hills and mountains, and in it were springs gushing forth, and rivers running. So they said, “This is the kind of place which the king commanded us to seek, and called us to find.” They then busied themselves in building the city according to the direction of the King Sheddád, king of the whole earth, in its length and breadth; and they made through it the channels for the rivers, and laid the foundations conformably with the prescribed extent. The kings of the various districts of the earth sent thither the jewels and stones, and large and small pearls, and carnelian and pure gold, upon camels over the deserts and wastes, and sent great ships with them over the seas; and a quantity of those things, such as cannot be described nor calculated nor defined, was brought to the workmen, who laboured in the construction of this city three hundred years. And when they had finished it, they came to the king and acquainted him with the completion; and he said to them, “Depart, and make around it impregnable fortifications of great height, and construct around the circuit of the fortifications a thousand pavilions, each with a thousand pillars beneath it, in order that there may be in each pavilion a vizier.” So they went immediately, and did this in twenty years; after which they presented themselves before Sheddád, and informed him of the accomplishment of his desire.

“‘He therefore ordered his viziers, who were a thousand in number, and his chief officers, and such of his troops and others as he confided in, to make themselves ready for departure, and to prepare themselves for removal to Irem Zat-el-’Emád, in attendance upon the king of the world, Sheddád, the son of ’A’d. He ordered also such as he chose of his women and his hareem, as his female slaves and his eunuchs, to fit themselves out. And they passed twenty years in equipping themselves. Then Sheddád proceeded with his troops, rejoiced at the accomplishment of his desire, until there remained between him and Irem Zat-el-’Emád one day’s journey, when God sent down upon him and upon the obstinate infidels who accompanied him a loud cry from the heaven of His power, and it destroyed them all by the vehemence of its sound. Neither Sheddád nor any of those who were with him arrived at the city, or came in sight of it, and God obliterated the traces of the road that led to it, but the city remaineth as it was in its place until the hour of the judgment!’

“At this narrative, related by Kaab el-Ahbár, Mo’áwiyeh wondered, and he said to him, ‘Can any one of mankind arrive at that city?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Kaab el-Ahbár; ‘a man of the companions of Mohammed (upon whom be blessing and peace!), in appearance like this man who is sitting here, without any doubt.’ Esh-Shaabee also saith, ‘It is related, on the authority of the learned men of Hemyer, in El-Yemen, that when Sheddád and those who were with him were destroyed by the loud cry, his son Sheddád the Less reigned after him; for his father, Sheddád the Greater, had left him as successor to his kingdom, in the land of Hadramót and Seba, on his departure with the troops who accompanied him to Irem Zat-el-’Emád. And as soon as the news reached him of the death of his father, on the way before his arrival at the city of Irem, he gave orders to carry his father’s body from those desert tracts to Hadramót, and to excavate the sepulchre for him in a cavern. And when they had done this, he placed his body in it, upon a couch of gold, and covered the corpse with seventy robes, interwoven with gold and adorned with precious jewels; and he placed at his head a tablet of gold, whereon were inscribed these verses:—

“‘Be admonished, O thou who art deceived by a prolonged life!
I am Sheddád, the son of ’A’d, the lord of a strong fortress,
The lord of power and might, and of excessive valour.
The inhabitants of the earth obeyed me, fearing my severity and threats;
And I held the east and west under a strong dominion.
And a preacher of the true religion invited us to the right way;
But we opposed him, and said, Is there no refuge from it?
And a loud cry assaulted us from a tract of the distant horizon;
Whereupon we fell down like corn in the midst of a plain at harvest;
And now, beneath the earth, we await the threatened day.’

“Eth-Tha’álibee also saith, ‘It happened that two men entered this cavern, and found at its upper end some steps, and having descended these, they found an excavation, the length whereof was a hundred cubits, and its breadth forty cubits, and its height a hundred cubits. And in the midst of this excavation was a couch of gold, upon which was a man of enormous bulk, occupying its whole length and breadth, covered with ornaments and with robes interwoven with gold and silver; and at his head was a tablet of gold, whereon was an inscription. And they took that tablet, and carried away from the place as much as they could of bars of gold and silver and other things.’”

THE TOMB OF NOOSHEERWÂN.

The caliph Hâroon-oor-Rasheed went to visit the tomb of the celebrated Noosheerwân, the most famous of all the monarchs who ever governed Persia. Before the tomb was a curtain of gold cloth, which, when Hâroon touched it, fell to pieces. The walls of the tomb were covered with gold and jewels, whose splendour illumined its darkness. The body was placed in a sitting posture on a throne enchased with jewels, and had so much the appearance of life that, on the first impulse, the Commander of the Faithful bent to the ground, and saluted the remains of the just Noosheerwân.

Though the face of the departed monarch was like that of a living man, and the whole of the body in a state of preservation, which showed the admirable skill of those who embalmed it, yet when the caliph touched the garments they mouldered into dust. Hâroon upon this took his own rich robes and threw them over the corpse; he also hung up a new curtain richer than that he had destroyed, and perfumed the whole tomb with camphor, and other sweet scents.

It was remarked that no change was perceptible in the body of Noosheerwân, except that the ears had become white. The whole scene affected the caliph greatly; he burst into tears, and repeated from the Koran—“What I have seen is a warning to those who have eyes.” He observed some writing upon the throne, which he ordered the Moobids (priests), who were learned in the Pehlevee language, to read and explain. They did so: it was as follows:—

“This world remains not; the man who thinks least of it is the wisest.

“Enjoy this world before thou becomest its prey.

“Bestow the same favour on those below thee as thou desirest to receive from those above thee.

“If thou shouldst conquer the whole world, death will at last conquer thee.

“Be careful that thou art not the dupe of thine own fortune.

“Thou shalt be paid exactly for what thou hast done; no more, no less.”

The caliph observed a dark ruby-ring on the finger of Noosheerwân, on which was written—

“Avoid cruelty, study good, and never be precipitate in action.

“If thou shouldst live for a hundred years, never for one moment forget death.

“Value above all things the society of the wise.”

Around the right arm of Noosheerwân was a clasp of gold, on which was engraved—

“On a certain year, on the 10th day of the month Erdebehisht, a caliph of the race of Adean, professing the faith of Mahomed, accompanied by four good men, and one bad, shall visit my tomb.”

Below this sentence were the names of the forefathers of the caliph. Another prophecy was added concerning Hâroon’s pilgrimage to Noosheerwân’s tomb.

“This prince will honour me, and do good unto me, though I have no claim upon him; and he will clothe me in a new vest, and besprinkle my tomb with sweet-scented essences, and then depart unto his home. But the bad man who accompanies him shall act treacherously towards me. I pray that God may send one of my race to repay the great favours of the caliph, and to take vengeance on his unworthy companion. There is, under my throne, an inscription which the caliph must read and contemplate. Its contents will remind him of me, and make him pardon my inability to give him more.”

The caliph, on hearing this, put his hand under the throne, and found the inscription, which consisted of some lines, inscribed on a ruby as large as the palm of the hand. The Moobids read this also. It contained information where would be found concealed a treasure of gold and arms, with some caskets of rich jewels; under this was written—

“These I give to the caliph in return for the good he has done me; let him take them and be happy.”

When Hâroon-oor-Rasheed was about to leave the tomb, Hoosein-ben-Sâhil, his vizier, said to him: “O Lord of the Faithful, what is the use of all these precious gems which ornament the abode of the dead, and are of no benefit to the living? Allow me to take some of them.” The caliph replied with indignation, “Such a wish is more worthy of a thief than of a great or wise man.” Hoosein was ashamed of his speech, and said to the servant who had been placed at the entrance of the tomb, “Go thou, and worship the holy shrine within.” The man went into the tomb; he was above a hundred years old, but he had never seen such a blaze of wealth. He felt inclined to plunder some of it, but was at first afraid; at last, summoning all his courage, he took a ring from the finger of Noosheerwân, and came away.

Hâroon saw this man come out, and observing him alarmed, he at once conjectured what he had been doing. Addressing those around him, he said, “Do not you now see the extent of the knowledge of Noosheerwân? He prophesied that there should be one unworthy man with me. It is this fellow. What have you taken?” said he, in an angry tone. “Nothing,” said the man. “Search him,” said the caliph. It was done, and the ring of Noosheerwân was found. This the caliph immediately took, and, entering the tomb, replaced it on the cold finger of the deceased monarch. When he returned, a terrible sound like that of loud thunder was heard.

Hâroon came down from the mountain on which the tomb stood, and ordered the road to be made inaccessible to future curiosity. He searched for, and found, in the place described, the gold, the arms, and the jewels bequeathed to him by Noosheerwân, and sent them to Bagdad.

Among the rich articles found was a golden crown, which had five sides, and was richly ornamented with precious stones. On every side a number of admirable lessons were written. The most remarkable were as follows:—

First side.

“Give my regards to those who know themselves.

“Consider the end before you begin, and before you advance provide a retreat.

“Give not unnecessary pain to any man, but study the happiness of all.

“Ground not your dignity upon your power to hurt others.”

Second side.

“Take counsel before you commence any measure, and never trust its execution to the inexperienced.

“Sacrifice your property for your life, and your life for your religion.

“Spend your time in establishing a good name; and if you desire fortune, learn contentment.”

Third side.

“Grieve not for that which is broken, stolen, burnt, or lost.

“Never give orders in another man’s house; and accustom yourself to eat your bread at your own table.

“Make not yourself the captive of women.”

Fourth side.

“Take not a wife from a bad family, and seat not thyself with those who have no shame.

“Keep thyself at a distance from those who are incorrigible in bad habits, and hold no intercourse with that man who is insensible to kindness.

“Covet not the goods of others.

“Be guarded with monarchs, for they are like fire which blazeth but destroyeth.

“Be sensible to your own value; estimate justly the worth of others; and war not with those who are far above thee in fortune.”

Fifth side.

“Fear kings, women, and poets.

“Be envious of no man, and habituate not thyself to search after the faults of others.

“Make it a habit to be happy, and avoid being out of temper, or thy life will pass in misery.

“Respect and protect the females of thy family.

“Be not the slave of anger; and in thy contests always leave open the door of conciliation.

“Never let your expenses exceed your income.

“Plant a young tree, or you cannot expect to cut down an old one.

“Stretch your legs no further than the size of your carpet.”

The caliph Hâroon-oor-Rasheed was more pleased with the admirable maxims inscribed on this crown than with all the treasures he had found. “Write these precepts,” he exclaimed, “in a book, that the faithful may eat of the fruit of wisdom.” When he returned to Bagdad, he related to his favourite vizier, Jaffier Bermekee, and his other chief officers, all that had passed; and the shade of Noosheerwân was propitiated by the disgrace of Hoosein-ben-Sâhil (who had recommended despoiling his tomb), and the exemplary punishment of the servant who had committed the sacrilegious act of taking the ring from the finger of the departed monarch.

AMEEN AND THE GHOOL.

There is a dreadful place in Persia called the “Valley of the Angel of Death.” That terrific minister of God’s wrath, according to tradition, has resting-places upon the earth and his favourite abodes. He is surrounded by ghools, horrid beings who, when he takes away life, feast upon the carcasses.

The natural shape of these monsters is terrible; but they can assume those of animals, such as cows or camels, or whatever they choose, often appearing to men as their relations or friends, and then they do not only transform their shapes, but their voices also are altered. The frightful screams and yells which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines are changed for the softest and most melodious notes. Unwary travellers, deluded by the appearance of friends, or captivated by the forms and charmed by the music of these demons, are allured from their path, and after feasting for a few hours on every luxury, are consigned to destruction.

The number of these ghools has greatly decreased since the birth of the Prophet, and they have no power to hurt those who pronounce his name in sincerity of faith. These creatures are the very lowest of the supernatural world, and, besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and consequently often imposed upon by artful men.

The natives of Isfahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and acute people upon earth, and often supply the want of courage by their address. An inhabitant of that city was once compelled to travel alone at night through this dreadful valley. He was a man of ready wit, and fond of adventures, and, though no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which had brought him through a hundred scrapes and perils that would have embarrassed or destroyed your simple man of valour.

This man, whose name was Ameen Beg, had heard many stories of the ghools of the “Valley of the Angel of Death,” and thought it likely he might meet one. He prepared accordingly, by putting an egg and a lump of salt in his pocket. He had not gone far amidst the rocks, when he heard a voice crying, “Holloa, Ameen Beg Isfahânee! you are going the wrong road, you will lose yourself; come this way. I am your friend Kerreem Beg; I know your father, old Kerbela Beg, and the street in which you were born.” Ameen knew well the power the ghools had of assuming the shape of any person they choose; and he also knew their skill as genealogists, and their knowledge of towns as well as families; he had therefore little doubt this was one of those creatures alluring him to destruction. He, however, determined to encounter him, and trust to his art for his escape.

“Stop, my friend, till I come near you,” was his reply. When Ameen came close to the ghool, he said, “You are not my friend Kerreem; you are a lying demon, but you are just the being I desired to meet. I have tried my strength against all the men and all the beasts which exist in the natural world, and I can find nothing that is a match for me. I came therefore to this valley in the hope of encountering a ghool, that I might prove my prowess upon him.”

The ghool, astonished at being addressed in this manner, looked keenly at him, and said, “Son of Adam, you do not appear so strong.” “Appearances are deceitful,” replied Ameen, “but I will give you a proof of my strength. There,” said he, picking up a stone from a rivulet, “this contains a fluid; try if you can so squeeze it that it will flow out.” The ghool took the stone, but, after a short attempt, returned it, saying, “The thing is impossible.” “Quite easy,” said the Isfahânee, taking the stone and placing it in the hand in which he had before put the egg. “Look there!” And the astonished ghool, while he heard what he took for the breaking of the stone, saw the liquid run from between Ameen’s fingers, and this apparently without any effort.

Ameen, aided by the darkness, placed the stone upon the ground while he picked up another of a darker hue. “This,” said he, “I can see contains salt, as you will find if you can crumble it between your fingers;” but the ghool, looking at it, confessed he had neither knowledge to discover its qualities nor strength to break it. “Give it me,” said his companion impatiently; and, having put it into the same hand with the piece of salt, he instantly gave the latter all crushed to the ghool, who, seeing it reduced to powder, tasted it, and remained in stupid astonishment at the skill and strength of this wonderful man. Neither was he without alarm lest his strength should be exerted against himself, and he saw no safety in resorting to the shape of a beast, for Ameen had warned him that if he commenced any such unfair dealing, he would instantly slay him; for ghools, though long-lived, are not immortal.

Under such circumstances he thought his best plan was to conciliate the friendship of his new companion till he found an opportunity of destroying him.

“Most wonderful man,” he said, “will you honour my abode with your presence? it is quite at hand; there you will find every refreshment; and after a comfortable night’s rest you can resume your journey.”

“I have no objection, friend ghool, to accept your offer; but, mark me, I am, in the first place, very passionate, and must not be provoked by any expressions which are in the least disrespectful; and, in the second, I am full of penetration, and can see through your designs as clearly as I saw into that hard stone in which I discovered salt. So take care you entertain none that are wicked, or you shall suffer.”

The ghool declared that the ear of his guest should be pained by no expression to which it did not befit his dignity to listen; and he swore by the head of his liege lord, the Angel of Death, that he would faithfully respect the rights of hospitality and friendship.

Thus satisfied, Ameen followed the ghool through a number of crooked paths, rugged cliffs, and deep ravines, till they came to a large cave, which was dimly lighted. “Here,” said the ghool, “I dwell, and here my friend will find all he can want for refreshment and repose.” So saying, he led him to various apartments, in which were hoarded every species of grain, and all kinds of merchandise, plundered from travellers who had been deluded to this den, and of whose fate Ameen was too well informed by the bones over which he now and then stumbled, and by the putrid smell produced by some half-consumed carcasses.

“This will be sufficient for your supper, I hope,” said the ghool, taking up a large bag of rice; “a man of your prowess must have a tolerable appetite.” “True,” said Ameen, “but I ate a sheep and as much rice as you have there before I proceeded on my journey. I am, consequently, not hungry, but will take a little lest I offend your hospitality.” “I must boil it for you,” said the demon; “you do not eat grain and meat raw, as we do. Here is a kettle,” said he, taking up one lying amongst the plundered property. “I will go and get wood for a fire, while you fetch water with that,” pointing to a bag made of the hides of six oxen.

Ameen waited till he saw his host leave the cave for the wood, and then with great difficulty he dragged the enormous bag to the bank of a dark stream, which issued from the rocks at the other end of the cavern, and, after being visible for a few yards, disappeared underground.

“How shall I,” thought Ameen, “prevent my weakness being discovered? This bag I could hardly manage when empty; when full, it would require twenty strong men to carry it; what shall I do? I shall certainly be eaten up by this cannibal ghool, who is now only kept in order by the impression of my great strength.” After some minutes’ reflection the Isfahânee thought of a scheme, and began digging a small channel from the stream towards the place where his supper was preparing.

“What are you doing?” vociferated the ghool, as he advanced towards him; “I sent you for water to boil a little rice, and you have been an hour about it. Cannot you fill the bag and bring it away?” “Certainly I can,” said Ameen; “if I were content, after all your kindness, to show my gratitude merely by feats of brute strength, I could lift your stream if you had a bag large enough to hold it. But here,” said he, pointing to the channel he had begun,—“here is the commencement of a work in which the mind of a man is employed to lessen the labour of his body. This canal, small as it may appear, will carry a stream to the other end of the cave, in which I will construct a dam that you can open and shut at pleasure, and thereby save yourself infinite trouble in fetching water. But pray let me alone till it is finished,” and he began to dig. “Nonsense!” said the ghool, seizing the bag and filling it; “I will carry the water myself, and I advise you to leave off your canal, as you call it, and follow me, that you may eat your supper and go to sleep; you may finish this fine work, if you like it, to-morrow morning.”

Ameen congratulated himself on this escape, and was not slow in taking the advice of his host. After having ate heartily of the supper that was prepared, he went to repose on a bed made of the richest coverlets and pillows, which were taken from one of the store-rooms of plundered goods. The ghool, whose bed was also in the cave, had no sooner laid down than he fell into a sound sleep. The anxiety of Ameen’s mind prevented him from following his example; he rose gently, and having stuffed a long pillow into the middle of his bed, to make it appear as if he was still there, he retired to a concealed place in the cavern to watch the proceedings of the ghool. The latter awoke a short time before daylight, and rising, went, without making any noise, towards Ameen’s bed, where, not observing the least stir, he was satisfied that his guest was in a deep sleep; so he took up one of his walking-sticks, which was in size like the trunk of a tree, and struck a terrible blow at what he supposed to be Ameen’s head. He smiled not to hear a groan, thinking he had deprived him of life; but to make sure of his work, he repeated the blow seven times. He then returned to rest, but had hardly settled himself to sleep, when Ameen, who had crept into the bed, raised his head above the clothes and exclaimed, “Friend ghool, what insect could it be that has disturbed me by its tapping? I counted the flap of its little wings seven times on the coverlet. These vermin are very annoying, for, though they cannot hurt a man, they disturb his rest!”

The ghool’s dismay on hearing Ameen speak at all was great, but that was increased to perfect fright when he heard him describe seven blows, any one of which would have felled an elephant, as seven flaps of an insect’s wing. There was no safety, he thought, near so wonderful a man, and he soon afterwards arose and fled from the cave, leaving the Isfahânee its sole master.

When Ameen found his host gone, he was at no loss to conjecture the cause, and immediately began to survey the treasures with which he was surrounded, and to contrive means for removing them to his home.

After examining the contents of the cave, and arming himself with a matchlock, which had belonged to some victim of the ghool, he proceeded to survey the road. He had, however, only gone a short distance when he saw the ghool returning with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by a fox. Ameen’s knowledge of the cunning animal instantly led him to suspect that it had undeceived his enemy, but his presence of mind did not forsake him. “Take that,” said he to the fox, aiming a ball at him from his matchlock, and shooting him through the head,—“Take that for your not performing my orders. That brute,” said he, “promised to bring me seven ghools, that I might chain them, and carry them to Isfahan, and here he has only brought you, who are already my slave.” So saying, he advanced towards the ghool; but the latter had already taken to flight, and by the aid of his club bounded so rapidly over rocks and precipices that he was soon out of sight.

Ameen having well marked the path from the cavern to the road, went to the nearest town and hired camels and mules to remove the property he had acquired. After making restitution to all who remained alive to prove their goods, he became, from what was unclaimed, a man of wealth, all of which was owing to that wit and art which ever overcome brute strength and courage.

THE RELATIONS OF SSIDI KUR.

Glorified Nangasuna Garbi! thou art radiant within and without; the holy vessel of sublimity, the fathomer of concealed thoughts, the second of instructors, I bow before thee. What wonderful adventures fell to the lot of Nangasuna, and to the peaceful wandering Chan, and how instructive and learned the Ssidi will be found, all this is developed in thirteen pleasing narratives.

And I will first relate the origin of these tales:—

In the central kingdom of India there once lived seven brothers, who were magicians; and one berren (a measure of distance) further dwelt two brothers, who were sons of a Chan. Now the eldest of these sons of the Chan betook himself to the magicians, that he might learn their art; but although he studied under them for seven years, yet the magicians taught him not the true key to magic.

And once upon a time it happened that the youngest brother, going to bring food to the elder, peeped through the opening of the door, and obtained the key to magic. Thereupon, without delivering to the elder the food which he had brought for him, he returned home to the palace. Then said the younger son of the Chan to his brother, “That we have learned magic, let us keep to ourselves. We have in the stable a beautiful horse; take this horse, and ride not with him near the dwelling-place of the magicians, but sell the horse in their country, and bring back merchandise.”

And when he had said thus, he changed himself into a horse. But the elder son of the Chan heeded not the words of his brother, but said unto himself: “Full seven years have I studied magic, and as yet have learned nothing. Where, then, has my young brother found so beautiful a horse? and how can I refuse to ride thereon?”

With these words he mounted, but the horse being impelled by the power of magic was not to be restrained, galloped away to the dwelling-place of the magicians, and could not be got from the door. “Well, then, I will sell the horse to the magicians.” Thus thinking to himself, the elder called out to the magicians, “Saw ye ever a horse like unto this? My younger brother it was who found him.” At these words the magicians communed with one another. “This is a magic horse; if magic grow at all common, there will be no wonderful art remaining. Let us, therefore, take this horse and slay him.”

The magicians paid the price demanded for the horse, and tied him in a stall; and that he might not escape out of their hands, they fastened him, ready for slaughter, by the head, by the tail, and by the feet. “Ah!” thought the horse to himself, “my elder brother hearkened not unto me, and therefore am I fallen into such hands. What form shall I assume?” While the horse was thus considering, he saw a fish swim by him in the water, and immediately he changed himself into a fish.

But the seven magicians became seven herons, and pursued the fish, and were on the point of catching it, when it looked up and beheld a dove in the sky, and thereupon transformed itself into a dove. The seven magicians now became seven hawks, and followed the dove over mountains and rivers, and would certainly have seized upon it, but the dove, flying eastwards to the peaceful cave in the rock Gulumtschi, concealed itself in the bosom of Nangasuna Baktschi (the Instructor). Then the seven hawks became seven beggars, and drew nigh unto the rock Gulumtschi. “What may this import?” bethought the Baktschi to himself, “that this dove has fled hither pursued by seven hawks?” Thus thinking, the Baktschi said, “Wherefore, O dove, fliest thou hither in such alarm?” Then the dove related to him the cause of its flight, and spake afterwards as follows:—“At the entrance to the rock Gulumtschi stand seven beggars, and they will come to the Baktschi and say, ‘We pray thee give us the rosary of the Baktschi?’ Then will I transform myself into the Bumba of the rosary; let the Baktschi then vouchsafe to take this Bumba into his mouth and to cast the rosary from him.”

Hereupon the seven beggars drew nigh, and the Baktschi took the first bead into his mouth and the rest he cast from him. The beads which were cast away then became worms, and the seven beggars became fowls and ate up the worms. Then the Baktschi let the first bead fall from his mouth, and thereupon the first bead was transformed into a man with a sword in his hand. When the seven fowls were slain and become human corses, the Baktschi was troubled in his soul, and said these words, “Through my having preserved one single man have seven been slain. Of a verity this is not good.”

To these words the other replied, “I am the Son of a Chan. Since, therefore, through the preservation of my life, several others have lost their lives, I will, to cleanse me from my sins, and also to reward the Baktschi, execute whatsoever he shall command me.” The Baktschi replied thereto, “Now, then, in the cold Forest of Death there abides Ssidi Kur; the upper part of his body is decked with gold, the lower is of brass, his head is covered with silver. Seize him and hold him fast. Whosoever finds this wonderful Ssidi Kur, him will I make for a thousand years a man upon the earth.”

Thus spake he, and the youth thereupon began these words: “The way which I must take, the food which I require, the means which I must employ, all these vouchsafe to make known unto me.” To this the Baktschi replied, “It shall be as thou demandest. At the distance of a berren (a measure of distance) from this place you will come to a gloomy forest, through which you will find there runs only one narrow path. The place is full of spirits. When thou reachest the spirits, they will throng around you; then cry ye with a loud voice, ‘Spirits, chu lu chu lu ssochi!’ And when thou hast spoken these words, they will all be scattered like grain. When thou hast proceeded a little further, you will encounter a crowd of other spirits; then cry ye, ‘Spirits, chu lu chu lu ssosi!’ And a little further on you will behold a crowd of child-spirits: say unto these, ‘Child-spirits, Ri ra pa dra!’ In the middle of this wood sits Ssidi Kur, beside an amiri-tree. When he beholds you, he will climb up it, but you must take the moon-axe, with furious gestures draw nigh unto the tree, and bid Ssidi Kur descend. To bring him away you will require this sack, which would hold a hundred men. To bind him fast this hundred fathoms of checkered rope will serve you. This inexhaustible cake will furnish thee with provender for thy journey. When thou hast got thy load upon thy back, wander then on without speaking, until thou art returned home again. Thy name is Son of the Chan; and since thou hast reached the peaceful rock Gulumtschi, thou shalt be called the peaceful wandering Son of the Chan.”

Thus spake the Baktschi, and showed him the way of expiation. When Ssidi Kur beheld his pursuer, he speedily climbed up the amiri-tree, but the Son of the Chan drew nigh unto the foot of the tree, and spake with threatening words: “My Baktschi is Nangasuna Garbi; mine axe is called the white moon; an inexhaustible cake is my provender. This sack, capable of holding a hundred men, will serve to carry thee away, this hundred fathoms of rope will serve to bind thee fast; I myself am the peaceful wandering Son of the Chan. Descend, or I will hew down the tree.”

Then spake Ssidi Kur, “Do not hew down the tree; I will descend from it.”

And when he had descended, the Son of the Chan thrust him into the sack, tied the sack fast with the rope, ate of the butter-cake, and wandered forth many days with his burden. At length Ssidi Kur said to the Son of the Chan, “Since our long journey is wearisome unto us, I will tell a story unto you, or do you relate one unto me.”

The Son of the Chan kept on his way, however, without speaking a word, and Ssidi began afresh, “If thou wilt tell a story, nod your head to me; if I shall relate one, then do you shake your head.”

But because the Son of the Chan shook his head from side to side, without uttering a word, Ssidi began the following tale:—

The Adventures of the Rich Youth.

“In former times there lived, in a great kingdom, a rich youth, a calculator, a mechanic, a painter, a physician, and a smith, and they all departed from their parents and went forth into a foreign land. When they at length arrived at the mouth of a great river, they planted, every one of them, a tree of life; and each of them, following one of the sources of the river, set forth to seek their fortunes. ‘Here,’ said they to one another,—‘here will we meet again. Should, however, any one of us be missing, and his tree of life be withered, we will search for him in the place whither he went to.’

“Thus they agreed, and separated one from another. And the rich youth found at the source of the stream, which he had followed, a pleasure-garden with a house, in the entrance to which were seated an old man and an old woman. ‘Good youth,’ exclaimed they both, ‘whence comest thou—whither goest thou?’ The youth replied, ‘I come from a distant country, and am going to seek my fortune.’ And the old couple said unto him, ‘It is well thou hast come hither. We have a daughter, slender of shape and pleasant of behaviour. Take her, and be a son unto us!’

“And when they had so spoken, the daughter made her appearance. And when the youth beheld her, he thought unto himself, ‘It is well I left my father and my mother. This maiden is more beauteous than a daughter of the Tângâri (god-like spirits of the male and female sex). I will take the maiden and dwell here.’ And the maiden said, ‘Youth, it is well that thou earnest here.’ Thereupon they conversed together, went together into the house, and lived peacefully and happily.

“Now, over the same country there reigned a mighty Chan. And once in the spring-time, when his servants went forth together to bathe, they found, near the mouth of the river, in the water, a pair of costly earrings, which belonged to the wife of the rich youth. Because, therefore, these jewels were so wondrously beautiful, they carried them to the Chan, who, being greatly surprised thereat, said unto his servants, ‘Dwells there at the source of the river a woman such as these belong to? Go, and bring her unto me.’

“The servants went accordingly, beheld the woman, and were amazed at the sight. ‘This woman,’ said they to one another, ‘one would never tire of beholding.’ But to the woman they said, ‘Arise! and draw nigh with us unto the Chan.’

“Hereupon the rich youth conducted his wife to the presence of the Chan; but the Chan, when he beheld her, exclaimed, ‘This maiden is a Tângâri, compared with her, my wives are but ugly.’

“Thus spake he, and he was so smitten with love of her, that he would not let her depart from his house. But as she remained true and faithful to the rich youth, the Chan said unto his servants, ‘Remove this rich youth instantly out of my sight.’

“At these commands the servants went forth, taking with them the rich youth, whom they led to the water, where they laid him in a pit by the side of the stream, covered him with a huge fragment of the rock, and thus slew him.

“At length it happened that the other wanderers returned from all sides, each to his tree of life; and when the rich youth was missed, and they saw that his tree of life was withered, they sought him up the source of the river which he had followed, but found him not. Hereupon the reckoner discovered, by his calculations, that the rich youth was lying dead under a piece of the rock; but as they could by no means remove the stone, the smith took his hammer, smote the stone, and drew out the body. Then the physician mixed a life-inspiring draught, gave the same to the dead youth, and so restored him to life.

“They now demanded of him whom they had recalled to life, ‘In what manner wert thou slain?’ He accordingly related unto them the circumstances; and they communed one with another, saying, ‘Let us snatch this extraordinary beautiful woman from the Chan!’ Thereupon the mechanic constructed a wooden gerudin, or wonderful bird, which, when moved upwards from within, ascended into the air; when moved downwards, descended into the earth; when moved sideways, flew sideways accordingly. When this was done, they painted it with different colours, so that it was pleasant to behold.

“Then the rich youth seated himself within the wooden bird, flew through the air, and hovered over the roof of the royal mansion; and the Chan and his servants were astonished at the form of the bird, and said, ‘A bird like unto this we never before saw or heard of.’ And to his wife the Chan said, ‘Go ye to the roof of the palace, and offer food of different kinds unto this strange bird.’ When she went up to offer food, the bird descended, and the rich youth opened the door which was in the bird. Then said the wife of the Chan, full of joy, ‘I had never hoped or thought to have seen thee again, yet now have I found thee once more. This has been accomplished by this wonderful bird.’ After the youth had related to her all that had happened, he said unto her, ‘Thou art now the wife of the Chan—but if your heart now yearns unto me, step thou into this wooden gerudin, and we will fly hence through the air, and for the future know care no more.’

“After these words the wife said, ‘To the first husband to whom destiny united me am I inclined more than ever.’ Having thus spoken they entered into the wooden gerudin, and ascended into the sky. The Chan beheld this, and said, ‘Because I sent thee up that thou mightest feed this beautiful bird, thou hast betaken thyself to the skies.’ Thus spake he full of anger, and threw himself weeping on the ground.

“The rich youth now turned the peg in the bird downwards, and descended upon the earth close to his companions. And when he stepped forth out of the bird, his companions asked him, ‘Hast thou thoroughly accomplished all that thou didst desire?’ Thereupon his wife also stepped forth, and all who beheld her became in love with her. ‘You, my companions,’ said the rich youth, ‘have brought help unto me; you have awakened me from death; you have afforded me the means of once more finding my wife. Do not, I beseech you, rob me of my charmer once again.’

“Thus spake he; and the calculator began with these words:—‘Had I not discovered by my calculation where thou wert lying, thou wouldst never have recovered thy wife.’

“‘In vain,’ said the smith, ‘would the calculations have been, had I not drawn thee out of the rock. By means of the shattered rock it was that you obtained your wife. Then your wife belongs to me.’

“‘A body,’ said the physician, ‘was drawn from out of the shattered rock. That this body was restored to life, and recovered his former wife, it was my skill accomplished it. I, therefore, should take the wife.’

“‘But for the wooden bird,’ said the mechanic, ‘no one would ever have reached the wife. A numerous host attend upon the Chan; no one can approach the house wherein he resides. Through my wooden bird alone was the wife recovered. Let me, then, take her.’

“‘The wife,’ said the painter, ‘never would have carried food to a wooden bird; therefore it was only through my skill in painting that she was recovered; I, therefore, claim her.’

“And when they had thus spoken, they drew their knives and slew one another.”

“Alas! poor woman!” exclaimed the son of the Chan; and Ssidi said, “Ruler of Destiny, thou hast spoken words:—Ssarwala missbrod jakzang!” Thus spake he, and burst from the sack through the air.

Thus Ssidi’s first tale treated of the adventures of the rich youth.

The Adventures of the Beggar’s Son.

When the Son of the Chan arrived as before at the cold Forest of Death, he exclaimed with threatening gestures at the foot of the amiri-tree, “Thou dead one, descend, or I will hew down the tree.” Ssidi descended. The son of Chan placed him in the sack, bound the sack fast with the rope, ate of his provender, and journeyed forth with his burden. Then spake the dead one these words, “Since we have a long journey before us, do you relate a pleasant story by the way, or I will do so.” But the Son of the Chan merely shook his head without speaking a word. Whereupon Ssidi commenced the following tale:—

“A long time ago there was a mighty Chan who was ruler over a country full of market-places. At the source of the river which ran through it there was an immense marsh, and in this marsh there dwelt two crocodile-frogs, who would not allow the water to run out of the marsh. And because there came no water over their fields, every year did both the good and the bad have cause to mourn, until such times as a man had been given to the frogs for the pests to devour. And at length the lot fell upon the Chan himself to be an offering to them, and needful as he was to the welfare of the kingdom, denial availed him not; therefore father and son communed sorrowfully together, saying, ‘Which of us two shall go?’

“‘I am an old man,’ said the father, ‘and shall leave no one to lament me. I will go, therefore. Do you remain here, my son, and reign according as it is appointed.’

“‘O Tângâri,’ exclaimed the son, ‘verily this is not as it should be! Thou hast brought me up with care, O my father! If the Chan and the wife of the Chan remain, what need is there of their son? I then will go, and be as a feast for the frogs.’

“Thus spake he, and the people walked sorrowfully round about him, and then betook themselves back again. Now the son of the Chan had for his companion the son of a poor man, and he went to him and said, ‘Walk ye according to the will of your parents, and remain at home in peace and safety. I am going, for the good of the kingdom, to serve as a sacrifice to the frogs.’ At these words the son of the poor man said, weeping and lamenting, ‘From my youth up, O Chan, thou hast carefully fostered me. I will go with thee, and share thy fate.’

“Then they both arose and went unto the frogs; and on the verge of the marsh they heard the yellow frog and the blue frog conversing with one another. And the frogs said, ‘If the son of the Chan and his companion did but know that if they only smote off our heads with the sword, and the son of the Chan consumed me, the yellow frog, and the son of the poor man consumed thee, the blue frog, they would both cast out from their mouths gold and brass, then would the country be no longer compelled to find food for frogs.’

“Now, because the son of the Chan understood all sorts of languages, he comprehended the discourse of the frogs, and he and his companion smote the heads of the frogs with their swords; and when they had devoured the frogs, they threw out from their mouths gold and brass at their heart’s pleasure. Then said the wanderers, ‘The frogs are both slain—the course of the waters will be hemmed in no more. Let us then turn back unto our own country.’ But the son of the Chan agreed not to this, and said, ‘Let us not turn back into our own country, lest they say they are become spirits; therefore it is better that we journey further.’

“As they thereupon were walking over a mountain, they came to a tavern, in which dwelt two women, beautiful to behold—mother and daughter. Then said they, ‘We would buy strong liquor that we might drink.’ The women replied, ‘What have ye to give in exchange for strong liquor?’ Thereupon each of them threw forth gold and brass, and the women found pleasure therein, admitted them into their dwelling, gave them liquor in abundance, until they became stupid and slept, took from them what they had, and then turned them out of doors.

“Now when they awoke the son of the Chan and his companion travelled along a river and arrived in a wood, where they found some children quarrelling one with another. ‘Wherefore,’ inquired they, ‘do you thus dispute?’

“‘We have,’ said the children, ‘found a cap in this wood, and every one desires to possess it.’

“‘Of what use is the cap?’

“‘The cap has this wonderful property, that whosoever places it on his head can be seen neither by the Tângâri, nor by men, nor by the Tschadkurrs’ (evil spirits).

“‘Now go all of ye to the end of the forest and run hither, and I will in the meanwhile keep the cap, and give it to the first of you who reaches me.’

“Thus spoke the son of the Chan; and the children ran, but they found not the cap, for it was upon the head of the Chan. ‘Even now it was here,’ said they, ‘and now it is gone.’ And after they had sought for it, but without finding it, they went away weeping.

“And the son of the Chan and his companion travelled onwards, and at last they came to a forest in which they found a body of Tschadkurrs quarrelling one with another, and they said, ‘Wherefore do ye thus quarrel one with another?’

“‘I,’ exclaimed each of them, ‘have made myself master of these boots.’

“‘Of what use are these boots?’ inquired the son of the Chan.

“‘He who wears these boots,’ replied the Tschadkurrs, ‘is conveyed to any country wherein he wishes himself.’

“‘Now,’ answered the son of the Chan, ‘go all of you that way, and he who first runs hither shall obtain the boots.’

“And the Tschadkurrs, when they heard these words, ran as they were told; but the son of the Chan had concealed the boots in the bosom of his companion, who had the cap upon his head. And the Tschadkurrs saw the boots no more; they sought them in vain, and went their way.

“And when they were gone, the prince and his companion drew on each of them one of the boots, and they wished themselves near the place of election in a Chan’s kingdom. They wished their journey, laid themselves down to sleep, and on their awaking in the morning they found themselves in the hollow of a tree, right in the centre of the imperial place of election. It was, moreover, a day for the assembling of the people, to throw a Baling (a sacred figure of dough or paste) under the guidance of the Tângâri. ‘Upon whose head even the Baling falls, he shall be our Chan.’ Thus spake they as they threw it up; but the tree caught the Baling of Destiny. ‘What means this?’ exclaimed they all with one accord. ‘Shall we have a tree for our Chan?’

“‘Let us examine,’ cried they one to another, ‘whether the tree concealeth any stranger.’ And when they approached the tree the son of the Chan and his companion stepped forth. But the people stood yet in doubt, and said one to another thus, ‘Whosoever ruleth over the people of this land, this shall be decided to-morrow morning by what proceedeth from their mouths.’ And when they had thus spoken, they all took their departure.

“On the following morning some drank water, and what they threw from their mouths was white; others ate grass, and what they threw from their mouths was green. In short, one threw one thing, and another another thing. But because the son of the Chan and his companion cast out from their mouths gold and brass, the people cried, ‘Let the one be Chan of this people—let the other be his minister.’ Thus were they nominated Chan and minister! And the daughter of the former Chan was appointed the wife of the new Chan.

“Now in the neighbourhood of the palace wherein the Chan dwelt was a lofty building, whither the wife of the Chan betook herself every day. ‘Wherefore,’ thought the minister, ‘does the wife of the Chan betake herself to this spot every day?’ Thus thinking, he placed the wonderful cap upon his head, and followed the Chan’s wife through the open doors, up one step after another, up to the roof. Here the wife of the Chan gathered together silken coverlets and pillows, made ready various drinks and delicate meats, and burnt for their perfume tapers and frankincense. The minister being concealed by his cap, which made him invisible, seated himself by the side of the Chan’s wife, and looked around on every side.

“Shortly afterwards a beautiful bird swept through the sky. The wife of the Chan received it with fragrance-giving tapers. The bird seated itself upon the roof and twittered with a pleasing voice; but out of the bird came Solangdu, the Son of the Tângâri, whose beauty was incomparable, and he laid himself on the silken coverlets and fed of the dainties prepared for him. Then spake the son of the Tângâri, ‘Thou hast passed this morning with the husband whom thy fate has allotted to thee. What thinkest thou of him?’ The wife of the Chan answered, ‘I know too little of the prince to speak of his good qualities or his defects.’ Thus passed the day, and the wife of the Chan returned home again.

“On the following day the minister followed the wife of the Chan as he had done before, and heard the son of the Tângâri say unto her, ‘To-morrow I will come like a bird of Paradise to see thine husband.’ And the wife of the Chan said, ‘Be it so.’

“The day passed over, and the minister said to the Chan, ‘In yonder palace lives Solangdu, the beauteous son of the Tângâri.’ The minister then related all that he had witnessed, and said, ‘To-morrow early the son of the Tângâri will seek thee, disguised like a bird of Paradise. I will seize the bird by the tail, and cast him into the fire; but you must smite him in pieces with the sword.’

“On the following morning, the Chan and the wife of the Chan were seated together, when the son of the Tângâri, transformed into a bird of Paradise, appeared before them on the steps that led to the palace. The wife of the Chan greeted the bird with looks expressive of pleasure, but the minister, who had on his invisible-making cap, seized the bird suddenly by the tail, and cast him into the fire. And the Chan smote at him violently with his sword; but the wife of the Chan seized the hand of her husband, so that only the wings of the bird were scorched. ‘Alas, poor bird!’ exclaimed the wife of the Chan, as, half dead, it made its way, as well as it could, through the air.

“On the next morning the wife of the Chan went as usual to the lofty building, and this time, too, did the minister follow her. She collected together, as usual, the silken pillows, but waited longer than she was wont, and sat watching with staring eyes. At length the bird approached with a very slow flight, and came down from the birdhouse covered with blood and wounds, and the wife of the Chan wept at the sight. ‘Weep not,’ said the son of the Tângâri; ‘thine husband has a heavy hand. The fire has so scorched me that I can never come more.’

“Thus spoke he, and the wife of the Chan replied, ‘Do not say so, but come as you are wont to do, at least come on the day of the full moon.’ Then the son of the Tângâri flew up to the sky again, and the wife of the Chan began from that time to love her husband with her whole heart.

“Then the minister placed his wonderful cap upon his head, and, drawing near to a pagoda, he saw, through the crevice of the door, a man, who spread out a figure of an ass, rolled himself over and over upon the figure, thereupon took upon himself the form of an ass, and ran up and down braying like one. Then he began rolling afresh, and appeared in his human form. At last he folded up the paper, and placed it in the hand of a burchan (a Calmuc idol). And when the man came out the minister went in, procured the paper, and remembering the ill-treatment which he had formerly received, he went to the mother and daughter who had sold him the strong liquor, and said, with crafty words, ‘I am come to you to reward you for your good deeds.’ With these words he gave the women three pieces of gold; and the women asked him, saying, ‘Thou art, indeed, an honest man, but where did you procure so much gold?’ Then the minister answered, ‘By merely rolling backwards and forwards over this paper did I procure this gold.’ On hearing these words, the women said, ‘Grant us that we too may roll upon it.’ And they did so, and were changed into asses. And the minister brought the asses to the Chan, and the Chan said, ‘Let them be employed in carrying stones and earth.’

“Thus spake he, and for three years were these two asses compelled to carry stones and earth; and their backs were sore wounded, and covered with bruises. Then saw the Chan their eyes filled with tears, and he said to the minister, ‘Torment the poor brutes no longer.’

“Thereupon they rolled upon the paper, and after they had done so they were changed to two shrivelled women.”

“Poor creatures!” exclaimed the Son of the Chan. Ssidi replied, “Ruler of Destiny, thou hast spoken words: Ssarwala missdood jakzank!” Thus spoke he, and flew out of the sack through the air.

And Ssidi’s second relation treats of the adventures of the Poor Man’s Son.

The Adventures of Massang.

When the Son of the Chan arrived at the foot of the amiri-tree, and spoke as he had formerly done, Ssidi approached him, suffered himself to be placed in the sack, fastened with the rope, and carried away. Ssidi spoke as before, but the Son of the Chan shook his head, whereupon Ssidi began as follows:—

“A long time ago there lived in a certain country a poor man, who had nothing in the world but one cow; and because there was no chance of the cow’s calving, he was sore grieved, and said, ‘If my cow does not have a calf, I shall have no more milk, and I must then die of hunger and thirst.’

“But when a certain number of moons had passed, instead of the calf the poor man had looked for he found a man with horns, and with a long tail like a cow. And at the sight of this monster the owner of the beast was filled with vexation, and he lifted up his staff to kill him; but the horned man said, ‘Kill me not, father, and your mercy shall be rewarded.’

“And with these words he retreated into the depth of a forest, and there he found among the trees a man of sable hue. ‘Who art thou?’ inquired Massang the horned. ‘I was born of the forest,’ was the reply, ‘and am called Iddar. I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest.’

“And they journeyed forth together, and at last they reached a thickly-covered grassy plain, and there they beheld a green man. ‘Who art thou?’ inquired they. ‘I was born of the grass,’ replied the green man, ‘and will bear thee company.’

“Thereupon they all three journeyed forth together, until they came to a sedgy marsh, and there they found a white man. ‘Who art thou?’ inquired they. ‘I was born of the sedges,’ replied the white man, ‘and will bear thee company.’

“Thereupon they all four journeyed forth together, until they reached a desert country, where, in the very depths of the mountain, they found a hut; and because they found plenty both to eat and to drink in the hut, they abode there. Every day three of them went out hunting, and left the fourth in charge of the hut. On the first day, Iddar, the Son of the Forest, remained in the hut, and was busied preparing milk, and cooking meat for his companions, when a little old woman put up the ladder and came in at the door. ‘Who’s there?’ exclaimed Iddar, and, upon looking round, he beheld an old woman about a span high, who carried on her back a little sack. ‘Oh, what, there is somebody sitting there?’ said the old woman, ‘and you are cooking meat; let me, I beseech you, taste a little milk and a little meat.’

“And though she merely tasted a little of each, the whole of the food disappeared. When the old woman thereupon took her departure, the Son of the Forest was ashamed that the food had disappeared, and he arose and looked out of the hut. And as he chanced to perceive two hoofs of a horse, he made with them a number of horse’s footmarks around the dwelling, and shot an arrow into the court; and when the hunters returned home and inquired of him, ‘Where is the milk and the fatted meat?’ he answered them, saying, ‘There came a hundred horsemen, who pressed their way into the house, and took the milk and the flesh, and they have beaten me almost to death. Go ye out, and look around.’ And his companions went out when they heard these words, looked around, saw the prints of the horses’ feet and the arrow which he himself had shot, and said, ‘The words which he spoke are true.’

“On the following day the Son of the Grass remained at home in the hut, and it befell him as it had befallen his companion on the previous day. But because he perceived the feet of two bullocks, he made with them the marks of the feet of many bullocks around the dwelling, and said to his companions, ‘There came a hundred people with laden bullocks, and robbed me of the food I had prepared for you.’

“Thus spake he falsely. On the third day the Son of the Sedges remained at home in the hut, and because he met with no better fortune, he made, with a couple of the feet of a mule, a number of prints of mules’ feet around the dwelling, and said to his companions, ‘A hundred men with laden mules surrounded the house, and robbed me of the food I had prepared for you.’

“Thus spake he falsely. On the following day Massang remained at home in the hut, and as he was sitting preparing milk and flesh for his companions, the little old woman stepped in as before and said, ‘Oh, so there is somebody here this time? Let me, I pray you, taste a little of the milk and a little of the meat.’ At these words Massang considered, ‘Of a certainty this old woman has been here before. If I do what she requires of me, how do I know that there will be any left?’ And having thus considered, he said to the old woman, ‘Old woman, before thou tastest food, fetch me some water.’ Thus spoke he, giving her a bucket, of which the bottom was drilled full of holes, to fetch water in. When the old woman was gone, Massang looked after her, and found that the span-high old woman, reaching now up to the skies, drew the bucket full of water again and again, but that none of the water remained in it. While she was thus occupied, Massang peeped into the little sack which she carried on her shoulders, and took out of it a coil of rope, an iron hammer, and a pair of iron pincers, and put in their place some very rotten cords, a wooden hammer, and wooden pincers.

“He had scarcely done so before the old woman returned, saying, ‘I cannot draw water in your bucket. If you will not give me a little of your food to taste, let us try our strength against each other.’ Then the old woman drew forth the coil of rotten cords, and bound Massang with them, but Massang put forth his strength and burst the cords asunder. But when Massang had bound the old woman with her own coil, and deprived her of all power of motion, she said unto him, ‘Herein thou hast gotten the victory; now let us pinch each other with the pincers.’

“Whereupon Massang nipped hold of a piece of the old woman’s flesh as big as one’s head, and tore it forcibly from her. ‘Indeed, youth,’ cried the old woman, sighing, ‘but thou hast gotten a hand of stone; now let us hammer away at each other!’

“So saying, she smote Massang with the wooden hammer on his breast, but the hammer flew from the handle, and Massang was left without a wound. Then drew Massang the iron hammer out of the fire, and smote the old woman with it in such wise that she fled from the hut crying and wounded.

“Shortly after this, the three companions returned home, and said to Massang, ‘Now, Massang, thou hast surely had something to suffer?’ But Massang replied, ‘Ye are all cowardly fellows, and have uttered lies; I have paid off the old woman. Arise, and let us follow her!’

“At these words they arose, followed her by the traces of her blood, and at length reached a gloomy pit in a rock. At the bottom of this pit there were ten double circular pillars, and on the ground lay the corpse of the old woman, among gold, brass, and armour, and other costly things. ‘Will you three descend,’ said Massang, ‘and then pack together the costly things, and I will draw them up, or I will pack them, and you shall draw them out.’ But the three companions said, ‘We will not go down into the cavern, for of a verity the old woman is a Schumnu’ (a witch). But Massang, without being dispirited, allowed himself to be let down into the cavern, and collected the valuables, which were then drawn forth by his companions. Then his companions spoke with one another, saying, ‘If we draw forth Massang, he will surely take all these treasures to himself. It were better, then, that we should carry away these treasures, and leave Massang behind in the cavern!’

“When Massang noticed that his three companions treated him thus ungratefully, he looked about the cavern in search of food, but between the pillars he found nothing but some pieces of bark. Thereupon Massang planted the bark in the earth, nourished it as best he might, and said, ‘If I am a true Massang, then from this bark let there grow forth three great trees. If I am not, then shall I die here in this pit.’

“After these enchanting words, he laid himself down, but from his having come in contact with the corse of the old woman, he slept for many years. When he awoke, he found three great trees which reached to the mouth of the pit. Joyfully clambered he up and betook himself to the hut, which was in the neighbourhood. But, because there was no longer any one to be found therein, he took his iron bow and his arrows, and set forth in search of his companions. These had built themselves houses and taken wives. ‘Where are your husbands?’ inquired Massang of their wives. ‘Our husbands are gone to the chase,’ replied they. Then Massang took arrow and bow, and set forth. His companions were returning from the chase with venison, and when they beheld Massang with arrow and bow, they cried, as with one accord, ‘Thou art the well-skilled one! take thou our wives and property, we will now wander forth further!’ At these words Massang said, ‘Your behaviour was certainly not what it should have been; but I am going to reward my father—live on, therefore, as before.’

“By the way Massang discovered a brook, and out of the brook arose a beautiful maiden. The maiden went her way, and flowers arose out of her footsteps. Massang followed the maiden until he arrived in heaven, and when he was come there, Churmusta Tângâri (the Protector of the Earth) said unto him, ‘It is well that thou art come hither, Massang. We have daily to fight with the host of Schumnu (witches). To-morrow look around; after to-morrow be companion unto us.’

“On the following day, when the white host were sore pressed by the black, Churmusta spake unto Massang: ‘The white host are the host of the Tângâri, the black are the host of the Schumnu. To-day the Tângâri will be pressed by the Schumnu; draw, therefore, thy bow, and send an arrow into the eye of the leader of the black host.’ Then Massang aimed at the eye of the leader of the black host, and smote him, so that he fled with a mighty cry. Then spake Churmusta to Massang, ‘Thy deed is deserving of reward; henceforward dwell with us for ever.’ But Massang replied, ‘I go to reward my father.’

“Hereupon Churmusta presented to Massang, Dschindamani, the wonder-stone of the Gods, and said unto him, ‘By a narrow circuitous path you will reach the cave of the Schumnu. Go without fear or trembling therein. Knock at the door and say, “I am the human physician.” They will then lead thee to the Schumnu Chan, that you may draw out the arrow from his eyes; then lay hands upon the arrow, scatter seven sorts of grain towards heaven, and drive the arrow yet deeper into his head.’

“Thus spake Churmusta authoritatively, and Massang obeyed his commands; reached, without erring, the cavern of the Schumnu, and knocked at the door. ‘What hast thou learned?’ inquired the woman. ‘I am a physician,’ answered Massang; and he was conducted into the building. He examined the wound of the Chan, and laid hands upon the arrow. ‘Already,’ said the Chan, ‘my wound feels better.’ But Massang suddenly drove the arrow further into the head, scattered the seven grains towards heaven, and a chain fell clattering from heaven down to earth.

“But while Massang was preparing to lay hands upon the chain, the Schumnu woman smote him with an iron hammer with such force, that from the blow there sprang forth seven stars.”

“Then,” said the Son of the Chan, “he was not able to reward his father.”

“Ruler of Destiny, thou hast spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jonkzang.” Thus spake Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.

Thus Ssidi’s third relation treats of the adventures of Massang.

The Magician with the Swine’s Head.

When the Son of the Chan had, as before, seized upon Ssidi, and was carrying him away, Ssidi spoke as formerly, but the Son of the Chan shook his head, without uttering a word, and Ssidi began the following relation:—

“A long while since there lived in a happy country a man and a woman. The man had many bad qualities, and cared for nothing but eating, drinking, and sleeping. At last his wife said unto him, ‘By thy mode of life thou hast wasted all thine inheritance. Arise thee, then, from thy bed, and while I am in the fields, go you out and look about you!’

“As he, therefore, according to these words, was looking about him, he saw a multitude of people pass behind the pagoda with their herds; and birds, foxes, and dogs crowding and noising together around a particular spot. Thither he went, and there found a bladder of butter; so he took it home and placed it upon the shelf. When his wife returned and saw the bladder of butter upon the shelf, she asked, ‘Where found you this bladder of butter?’ To this he replied, ‘I did according to your word, and found this.’ Then said the woman ‘Thou went out but for an instant, and hast already found thus much.’

“Then the man determined to display his abilities, and said, ‘Procure me then a horse, some clothes, and a bloodhound.’ The wife provided them accordingly; and the man taking with him, besides these, his bow, cap, and mantle, seated himself on horseback, led the hound in a leash, and rode forth at random. After he had crossed over several rivers he espied a fox. ‘Ah,’ thought he, ‘that would serve my wife for a cap.’

“So saying, he pursued the fox, and when it fled into a hamster’s hole, the man got off his horse, placed his bow, arrows, and clothes upon the saddle, fastened the bloodhound to the bridle, and covered the mouth of the hole with his cap. The next thing he did was to take a large stone, and hammer over the hole with it; this frightened the fox, which ran out and fled with the cap upon its head. The hound followed the fox, and drew the horse along with it, so that they both vanished in an instant, and the man was left without any clothes.

“After he had turned back a long way, he reached the country of a mighty Chan, entered the Chan’s stable, and concealed himself in a stack of hay, so that merely his eyes were left uncovered. Not long afterwards, the beloved of the Chan was walking out, and wishing to look at a favourite horse, she approached close to the hayrick, placed the talisman of life of the Chan’s kingdom upon the ground, left it there, and returned back to the palace without recollecting it. The man saw the wonderful stone, but was too lazy to pick it up. At sunset the cows came by, and the stone was beaten into the ground. Some time afterwards a servant came and cleansed the place, and the wonderful stone was cast aside upon a heap.

“On the following day the people were informed, by the beating of the kettledrums, that the beloved of the Chan had lost the wonderful stone. At the same time, all the magicians and soothsayers and interpreters of signs were summoned, and questioned upon the subject. On hearing this, the man in the hayrick crept out as far as his breast, and when the people thronged around him and asked, ‘What hast thou learned?’ he replied, ‘I am a magician.’ On hearing these words they exclaimed, ‘Because the wondrous stone of the Chan is missing, all the magicians in the country are summoned to appear before him. Do you then draw nigh unto the Chan.’ The man said, ‘I have no clothes.’ Hereupon the whole crowd hastened to the Chan, and announced unto him thus: ‘In the hayrick there lieth a magician who has no clothes. This magician would draw nigh unto you, but he has nought to appear in.’ The Chan said, ‘Send unto him this robe of cloth, and let him approach.’ It was done.

“The man was fetched, and after he had bowed down to the Chan, he was asked what he needed for the performance of his magic charms. To this question he replied, ‘For the performance of my magic charms, it is needful that I should have the head of a swine, some cloths of five colours, and some baling’ (a sacred figure of dough or paste). When all these things were prepared, the magician deposited the swine’s head at the foot of a tree, dressed it with the cloths of five colours, fastened on the large baling, and passed the whole of three nights in meditation. On the day appointed, all the people assembled, and the magician having put on a great durga (cloak), placed himself, with the swine’s head in his hand, in the street. When they were all assembled together, the magician, showing the swine’s head, said, ‘Here not and there not.’ All were gladdened at hearing these words. ‘Because, therefore,’ said the magician, ‘the wonderful stone is not to be found among the people, we must seek for it elsewhere.’

“With these words the magician, still holding the swine’s head in his hand, drew nigh unto the palace, and the Chan and his attendants followed him, singing songs of rejoicing. When, at last, the magician arrived at the heap, he stood suddenly still, and exclaimed, ‘There lies the wonderful stone.’ Then, first removing some of the earth, he drew forth the stone, and cleansed it. ‘Thou art a mighty magician,’ joyfully exclaimed all who beheld it. ‘Thou art the master of magic with the swine’s head. Lift up thyself that thou mayest receive thy reward.’ The Chan said, ‘Thy reward shall be whatsoever thou wilt.’ The magician, who thought only of the property he had lost, said, ‘Give unto me a horse, with saddle and bridle, a bow and arrows, a cap, a mantle, a hound, and a fox. Such things give unto me.’ At these words the Chan exclaimed, ‘Give him all that he desireth.’ This was done, and the magician returned home with all that he desired, and with two elephants, one carrying meat, and the other butter.

“His wife met him close to his dwelling, with brandy for him to drink, and said, ‘Now, indeed, thou art become a mighty man.’ Thereupon they went into the house, and when they had laid themselves down to sleep, the wife said to him, ‘Where hast thou found so much flesh and so much butter?’ Then her husband related to her circumstantially the whole affair, and she answered him saying, ‘Verily, thou art a stupid ass. To-morrow I will go with a letter to the Chan.’

“The wife accordingly wrote a letter, and in the letter were the following words:—‘Because it was known unto me that the lost wondrous stone retained some evil influence over the Chan, I have, for the obviating of that influence, desired of him the dog and the fox. What I may receive for my reward depends upon the pleasure of the Chan.’

“The Chan read the letter through, and sent costly presents to the magician. And the magician lived pleasantly and happily.

“Now in a neighbouring country there dwelt seven Chans, brethren. Once upon a time they betook themselves, for pastime, to an extensive forest, and there they discovered a beauteous maiden with a buffalo, and they asked, ‘What are you two doing here? Whence come you?’ The maiden answered, ‘I come from an eastern country, and am the daughter of a Chan. This buffalo accompanies me.’ At these words these others replied, ‘We are the seven brethren of a Chan, and have no wife. Wilt thou be our wife?’[1] The maiden answered, ‘So be it.’ But the maiden and the buffalo were two Mangusch (a species of evil spirit like the Schumnu), and were seeking out men whom they might devour. The male Mangusch was a buffalo, and the female, she who became wife to the brethren.

[1] It is in accordance with the customs of Thibet for a woman of that country to have several husbands.

“After the Mangusch had slain, yearly, one of the brethren of the Chan, there was only one remaining. And because he was suffering from a grievous sickness, the ministers consulted together and said, ‘For the sickness of the other Chans we have tried all means of cure, and yet have found no help, neither do we in this case know what to advise. But the magician with the swine’s head dwells only two mountains off from us, and he is held in great estimation; let us, without further delay, send for him to our assistance.’

“Upon this four mounted messengers were despatched for the magician, and when they arrived at his dwelling, they made known to him the object of their mission. ‘I will,’ said the magician, ‘consider of this matter in the course of the night, and will tell you in the morning what is to be done.’

“During the night he related to his wife what was required of him, and his wife said, ‘You are looked upon, up to this time, as a magician of extraordinary skill; but from this time there is an end to your reputation. However, it cannot be helped, so go you must.’

“On the following morning the magician said to the messengers, ‘During the night-time I have pondered upon this matter, and a good omen has presented itself to me in a dream. Let me not tarry any longer but ride forth to-day.’ The magician, thereupon, equipped himself in a large cloak, bound his hair together on the crown of his head, carried in his left hand the rosary, and in his right the swine’s head, enveloped in the cloths of five colours.

“When in this guise he presented himself before the dwelling-place of the Chan, the two Mangusch were sorely frightened, and thought to themselves, ‘This man has quite the appearance, quite the countenance, of a man of learning.’ Then the magician, first placing a baling on the pillow of the bed, lifted up the swine’s head, and muttered certain magic words.

“The wife of the Chan seeing this discontinued tormenting the soul of the Chan, and fled in all haste out of the room. The Chan, by this conduct being freed from the pains of sickness, sank into a sound sleep. ‘What is this?’ exclaimed the magician, filled with affright. ‘The disease has grown worse, the sick man uttereth not a sound; the sick man hath departed.’ Thus thinking, he cried, ‘Chan, Chan!’ But because the Chan uttered no sound, the magician seized the swine’s head, vanished through the door, and entered the treasure-chamber. No sooner had he done so, than ‘Thief, thief!’ sounded in his ears, and the magician fled into the kitchen; but the cry of ‘Stop that thief! stop that thief!’ still followed him. Thus pursued the magician thought to himself, ‘This night it is of no use to think of getting away, so I will, therefore, conceal myself in a corner of the stable.’ Thus thinking, he opened the door, and there found a buffalo, that lay there as if wearied with a long journey. The magician took the swine’s head, and struck the buffalo three times between the horns, whereupon the buffalo sprang up and fled like the wind.

“But the magician followed after the buffalo, and when he approached the spot where he was, he heard the male Mangusch say to his female companion, ‘Yonder magician knew that I was in the stable; with his frightful swine’s head he struck me three blows—so that it was time for me to escape from him.’ And the Chan’s wife replied, ‘I too am so afraid, because of his great knowledge, that I would not willingly return; for, of a certainty, things will go badly with us. To-morrow he will gather together the men with weapons and arms, and will say unto the women, “Bring hither firing;” when this is done he will say, “Lead the buffalo hither.” And when thou appearest, he will say unto thee, “Put off the form thou hast assumed.” And because all resistance would be useless, the people perceiving thy true shape will fall upon thee with swords, and spears, and stones; and when they have put thee to death, they will consume thee with fire. At last the magician will cause me to be dragged forth and consumed with fire. Oh, but I am sore afraid!’

“When the magician heard these words, he said to himself, ‘After this fashion may the thing be easily accomplished.’ Upon this he betook himself, with the swine’s head to the Chan, lifted up the baling, murmured his words of magic, and asked, ‘How is it now with the sickness of the Chan?’ And the Chan replied, ‘Upon the arrival of the master of magic the sickness passed away, and I have slept soundly.’ Then the magician spake as follows: ‘To-morrow, then, give this command to thy ministers, that they collect the whole of the people together, and that the women be desired to bring firing with them.’

“When, in obedience to these directions, there were two lofty piles of fagots gathered together, the magician said, ‘Place my saddle upon the buffalo.’ Then the magician rode upon the saddled buffalo three times around the assembled people, then removed the saddle from the buffalo, smote it three times with the swine’s head, and said, ‘Put off the form thou hast assumed.’

“At these words the buffalo was transformed into a fearful ugly Mangusch. His eyes were bloodshot, his upper tusks descended to his breast, his bottom tusks reached up to his eyelashes, so that he was fearful to behold. When the people had hewed this Mangusch to pieces with sword and with arrow, with spear and with stone, and his body was consumed upon one of the piles of fagots, then said the magician, ‘Bring forth the wife of the Chan.’ And with loud cries did the wife of the Chan come forth, and the magician smote her with the swine’s head, and said, ‘Appear in thine own form!’ Immediately her long tusks and bloodshot eyes exhibited the terrific figure of a female Mangusch.

“After the wife of the Chan had been cut in pieces, and consumed by fire, the magician mounted his horse; but the people bowed themselves before him, and strewed grain over him, presented him with gifts, and regaled him so on every side, that he was only enabled to reach the palace of the Chan on the following morning. Then spake the Chan, full of joy, to the magician, ‘How can I reward you for the great deed that thou hast done?’ And the magician answered, ‘In our country there are but few nose-sticks for oxen to be found. Give me, I pray you, some of these nose-sticks.’ Thus spake he, and the Chan had him conducted home with three sacks of nose-sticks, and seven elephants bearing meat and butter.

“Near unto his dwelling his wife came with brandy to meet him; and when she beheld the elephants, she exclaimed, ‘Now, indeed, thou art become a mighty man.’ Then they betook themselves to their house, and at night-time the wife of the magician asked him, ‘How camest thou to be presented with such gifts?’ The magician replied, ‘I have cured the sickness of the Chan, and consumed with fire two Mangusch.’ At these words she replied, ‘Verily, thou hast behaved very foolishly. After such a beneficial act, to desire nothing but nose-sticks for cattle! To-morrow I myself will go to the Chan.’

“On the morrow the wife drew near unto the Chan, and presented unto him a letter from the magician, and in this letter stood the following words:—‘Because the magician was aware that of the great evil of the Chan a lesser evil still remained behind, he desired of him the nose-sticks. What he is to receive as a reward depends upon the pleasure of the Chan.’

“‘He is right,’ replied the Chan, and he summoned the magician, with his father and mother, and all his relations before him, and received them with every demonstration of honour. ‘But for you I should have died; the kingdom would have been annihilated; the ministers and all the people consumed as the food of the Mangusch. I, therefore, will honour thee,’ and he bestowed upon him proofs of his favour.”

“Both man and wife were intelligent,” exclaimed the Son of the Chan.