FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[37]Or Singh Rajah, the Lion King.[38]Or Vizier.[39]I.e., palanquin-bearers.[40]Gigantic demoniacal ogres, who can at will assume any shape. Their chief terrestrial delight is said to be digging dead bodies out of their graves and devouring them.

[37]Or Singh Rajah, the Lion King.

[38]Or Vizier.

[39]I.e., palanquin-bearers.

[40]Gigantic demoniacal ogres, who can at will assume any shape. Their chief terrestrial delight is said to be digging dead bodies out of their graves and devouring them.

SEVERAL hundred years ago there was a certain Rajah who had twelve wives, but no children, and though he caused many prayers to be said, and presents made in temples far and near, never a son nor a daughter had he. Now this Rajah had a Wuzeer who was a very, very wise old man, and it came to pass that one day, when he was traveling in a distant part of his kingdom, accompanied by this Wuzeer and the rest of his court, he came upon a large garden, in walking round which he was particularly struck by a little tree which grew there. It was a bringal[41]tree, not above two feet in height. It had no leaves, but on it grew a hundred and one bringals. The Rajah stopped to count them, and then turning to the Wuzeer in great astonishment, said, “It is to me a most unaccountable thing, that this little tree should have no leaves, but a hundred and one bringals growing on it. You are a wise man—can you guess what this means?” The Wuzeer replied, “I can interpret this marvel to you, but if I do, you will most likely not believe me; promise therefore that if I tell you, you will not cause me to be killed as having told (as you imagine) a lie.”The Rajah promised, and the Wuzeer continued: “The meaning of this little bringal tree, with the hundred and one bringals growing on it, is this. Whoever marries the daughter of the Malee in charge of this garden will have a hundred and one children—a hundred sons and one daughter.” The Rajah said, “Where is the maiden to be seen?” The Wuzeer answered, “When a number of great people like you and all your court come into a little village like this, the poor people, and especially the children, are frightened and run away and hide themselves; therefore, as long as you stay here as Rajah you cannot hope to see her. Your only means will be to send away your suite, and cause it be announced that you have left the place. Then, if you walk daily in this garden, you may some morning meet the pretty Guzra Bai,[42]of whom I speak.”

Upon this advice the Rajah acted; and one day whilst walking in the garden he saw the Malee’s young daughter, a girl of twelve years old, busy gathering flowers. He went forward to accost her, but she, seeing that he was not one of the villagers, but a stranger, was shy, and ran home to her father’s house.

The Rajah followed, for he was very much struck with her grace and beauty; in fact, he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her, and thought he had never seen a king’s daughter half so charming.

When he got to the Malee’s house the door was shut; so he called out, “Let me in, good Malee; I am the Rajah, and I wish to marry your daughter.” The Malee only laughed, and answered, “A pretty tale to tell a simple man, indeed! You a Rajah! why theRajah is miles away. You had better go home, my good fellow, for there’s no welcome for you here!” But the Rajah continued calling till the Malee opened the door; who then was indeed surprised, seeing it was truly no other than the Rajah, and he asked what he could do for him.

The Rajah said, “I wish to marry your beautiful daughter, Guzra Bai.” “No, no,” said the Malee, “this joke won’t do. None of your Princes in disguise for me. You may think you are a great Rajah and I only a poor Malee, but I tell you that makes no difference at all to me. Though you were king of all the earth, I would not permit you to come here and amuse yourself chattering to my girl, only to fill her head with nonsense, and to break her heart.”

“In truth, good man, you do me wrong,” answered the Rajah, humbly: “I mean what I say; I wish to marry your daughter.”

“Do not think,” retorted the Malee, “that I’ll make a fool of myself because I’m only a Malee, and believe what you’ve got to say, because you’re a great Rajah. Rajah or no Rajah is all one to me. If you mean what you say, if you care for my daughter and wish to be married to her, come and be married; but I’ll have none of your new-fangled forms and court ceremonies hard to be understood; let the girl be married by her father’s hearth and under her father’s roof, and let us invite to the wedding our old friends and acquaintance whom we’ve known all our lives, and before we ever thought of you.”

The Rajah was not angry, but amused, and rather pleased than otherwise at the old man’s frankness, and he consented to all that was desired.

The village beauty, Guzra Bai, was therefore married with as much pomp as they could muster, but in village fashion, to the great Rajah, who took her home with him, followed by the tears and blessings of her parents and playmates.

The twelve kings’ daughters were by no means pleased at this addition to the number of the Ranees; and they agreed amongst themselves that it would be highly derogatory to their dignity to permit Guzra Bai to associate with them, and that the Rajah, their husband, had offered them an unpardonable insult in marrying a Malee’s daughter, which was to be revenged upon her the very first opportunity.

Having made this league, they tormented poor Guzra Bai so much that to save her from their persecutions, the Rajah built her a little house of her own, where she lived very, very happily for a short time.

At last one day he had occasion to go and visit a distant part of his dominions, but fearing his high-born wives might ill-use Guzra Bai in his absence, at parting he gave her a little golden bell,[43]saying, “If while I am away you are in any trouble, or any one should be unkind to you, ring this little bell, and wherever I am I shall instantly hear it, and will return to your aid.”

No sooner had the Rajah gone, than Guzra Bai thought she would try the power of the bell. So she rang it. The Rajah instantly appeared. “What do you want?” he said. “Oh, nothing,” she replied. “I was foolish. I could hardly believe what you told mecould be true, and thought I would try.” “Now you will believe, I hope,” he said, and went away. A second time she rang the bell. Again the Rajah returned. “Oh, pardon me, husband,” she said; “it was wrong of me not to trust you, but I hardly thought you could return again from so far.” “Never mind,” he said, “only do not try the experiment again.” And again he went away. A third time she rang the golden bell. “Why do you ring again, Guzra Bai?” asked the Rajah sternly, as for a third time he returned. “I don’t know, indeed; indeed I beg your pardon,” she said; “but I know not why, I felt so frightened.” “Have any of the Ranees been unkind to you?” he asked. “No, none,” she answered; “in fact, I have seen none of them.” “You are a silly child,” said he, stroking her hair. “Affairs of the state call me away. You must try and keep a good heart till my return;” and for the fourth time he disappeared.

A little while after this, wonderful to relate, Guzra Bai had a hundred and one children!—a hundred boys and one girl. When the Ranees heard this, they said to each other, “Guzra Bai, the Malee’s daughter, will rank higher than us; she will have great power and influence as mother to the heir to the Raj;[44]let us kill these children, and tell our husband that she is a sorceress; then will he love her no longer, and his old affection for us will return.” So these twelve wicked Ranees all went over to Guzra Bai’s house. When Guzra Bai saw them coming, she feared they meant to do her some harm, so she seized her little golden bell, and rang, and rang, and rang—but no Rajah came. She had called him back so often that he did notbelieve she really needed his help. And thus the poor woman was left to the mercy of her implacable enemies.

Now the nurse who had charge of the hundred and one babies was an old servant of the twelve Ranees, and moreover a very wicked woman, able and willing to do whatever her twelve wicked old mistresses ordered. So when they said to her, “Can you kill these children?” she answered, “Nothing is easier; I will throw them out upon the dust-heap behind the palace, where the rats and hawks and vultures will have left none of them remaining by to-morrow morning.” “So be it,” said the Ranees. Then the nurse took the hundred and one little innocent children—the hundred little boys and the one little girl—and threw them behind the palace on the dust-heap, close to some large rat-holes; and after that, she and the twelve Ranees placed a very large stone in each of the babies’ cradles, and said to Guzra Bai, “Oh, you evil witch in disguise, do not hope any longer to impose by your arts on the Rajah’s credulity. See, your children have all turned into stones. See these, your pretty babies!”—and with that they tumbled the hundred and one stones down in a great heap on the floor. Then Guzra Bai began to cry, for she knew it was not true; but what could one poor woman do against thirteen? At the Rajah’s return the twelve Ranees accused Guzra Bai of being a witch, and the nurse testified that the hundred and one children she had charge of had turned into stones, and the Rajah believed them rather than Guzra Bai, and he ordered her to be imprisoned for life.

Meanwhile a Bandicote[45]had heard the pitiful criesof the children, and taking pity on them, dragged them all, one by one, into her hole, out of the way of kites and vultures. She then assembled all the Bandicotes from far and near, and told them what she had done, begging them to assist in finding food for the children. Then every day a hundred and one Bandicotes would come, each bringing a little bit of food in his mouth, and give it to one of the children; and so day by day they grew stronger and stronger, until they were able to run about, and then they used to play of a morning at the mouth of the Bandicote’s hole, running in there to sleep every night. But one fine day who should come by but the wicked old nurse! Fortunately, all the boys were in the hole, and the little girl, who was playing outside, on seeing her ran in there too, but not before the nurse had seen her. She immediately went to the twelve Ranees and related this, saying, “I cannot help thinking some of the children may still be living in those rat-holes. You had better send and have them dug out and killed.” “We dare not do that,” answered they, “for fear of causing suspicion; but we will order some laborers to dig up that ground and make it into a field, and that will effectually smother any of the children who may still be alive.” This plan was approved and forthwith carried into execution; but the good Bandicote, who happened that day to be out on a foraging expedition in the palace, heard all about it there, and immediately running home, took all the children from her hole to a large well some distance off, where she hid them in the hollows behind the steps leading down to the well, laying one child under each step.

Here they would have been quite safe, had not theDhobee[46]happened to go down to the well that day to wash some clothes, taking with him his little girl. While her father was drawing up water, the child amused herself running up and down the steps of the well. Now each time her weight pressed down a step it gave the child hidden underneath a little squeeze. All the hundred boys bore this without uttering a sound; but when the Dhobee’s child trod on the step under which the little girl was hidden, she cried out, “How can you be so cruel to me, trampling on me in this way? Have pity on me, for I am a little girl as well as you.”

When the child heard these words proceeding from the stone, she ran in great alarm to her father, saying, “Father, I don’t know what’s the matter, but something alive is certainly under those stones. I heard it speak; but whether it is a Rakshas or an angel or a human being I cannot tell.” Then the Dhobee went to the twelve Ranees to tell them the wonderful news about the voice in the well; and they said to each other, “Maybe it’s some of Guzra Bai’s children; let us send and have this inquired into.” So they sent some people to pull down the well and see if some evil spirits were not there.

Then laborers went to pull down the well. Now close to the well was a little temple dedicated to Gunputti, containing a small shrine and a little clay image of the god. When the children felt the well being pulled down they called out for help and protection to Gunputti, who took pity on them and changed them into trees growing by his temple—a hundred little mango trees all round in a circle (which were thehundred little boys), and a little rose bush in the middle, covered with red and white roses, which was the little girl.

The laborers pulled down the well, but they found nothing there but a poor old Bandicote, which they killed. Then, by order of the twelve wicked Ranees, they sacrilegiously destroyed the little temple. But they found no children there either. However, the Dhobee’s mischievous little daughter had gone with her father to witness the work of destruction, and as they were looking on, she said, “Father, do look at all those funny little trees; I never remember noticing them here before.” And being very inquisitive, she started off to have a nearer look at them. There in a circle grew the hundred little mango trees, and in the centre of all the little rose bush, bearing the red and white roses.

The girl rushed by the mango trees, who uttered no words, and running up to the rose bush, began gathering some of the flowers. At this the rose bush trembled very much, and sighed and said, “I am a little girl as well as you; how can you be so cruel? You are breaking all my ribs.” Then the child ran back to her father and said, “Come and listen to what the rose bush says.” And the father repeated the news to the twelve Ranees, who ordered that a great fire should be made, and the hundred and one little trees be burnt in it, root and branch, till not a stick remained.

The fire was made, and the hundred and one little trees were dug up and just going to be put into it, when Gunputti, taking pity on them, caused a tremendous storm to come on, which put out the fire and flooded the country and swept the hundred and one trees into the river, where they were carried down along, long way by the torrent, until at last the children were landed, restored to their own shapes, on the river bank, in the midst of a wild jungle, very far from any human habitation.

Here these children lived for ten years, happy in their mutual love and affection. Generally every day fifty of the boys would go out to collect roots and berries for their food, leaving fifty at home to take care of their little sister: but sometimes they put her in some safe place, and all would go out together for the day; nor were they ever molested in their excursions by bear, panther, snake, scorpion, or other noxious creature. One day all the brothers put their little sister safely up in a fine shady tree, and went out together to hunt. After rambling on for some time, they came to the hut of a savage Rakshas, who in the disguise of an old woman had lived for many years in the jungle. The Rakshas, angry at this invasion of her domain, no sooner saw them than she changed them all into crows. Night came on, and their little sister was anxiously awaiting her brothers’ return, when on a sudden she heard a loud whirring sound in the air, and round the tree flocked a hundred black crows, cawing and offering her berries and roots which they had dug up with their sharp bills. Then the little sister guessed too truly what must have happened—that some malignant spirit had metamorphosed her brothers into this hideous shape; and at the sad sight she began to cry.

Time wore on; every morning the crows flew away to collect food for her and for themselves, and every evening they returned to roost in the branches of the high tree where she sat the livelong day, crying as if her heart would break.

At last so many bitter tears had she shed that they made a little stream which flowed from the foot of the tree right down through the jungle.

Some months after this, one fine day, a young Rajah from a neighboring country happened to be hunting in this very jungle; but he had not been very successful. Toward the close of the day he found himself faint and weary, having missed his way and lost his comrades, with no companion save his dogs, who, being thirsty, ran hurriedly hither and thither in search of water. After some time, they saw in the distance what looked like a clear stream: the dogs rushed there and the tired prince, following them, flung himself down on the grass by the water’s brink, thinking to sleep there for the night; and, with his hands under his head, stared up into the leafy branches of the tree above him. Great was his astonishment to see high up in the air an immense number of crows, and above them all a most lovely young girl, who was feeding them with berries and wild fruits. Quick as thought, he climbed the tree, and bringing her carefully and gently down, seated her on the grass beside him, saying, “Tell me, pretty lady, who you are, and how you come to be living in this dreary palace?” So she told him all her adventures, except that she did not say the hundred crows were her hundred brothers. Then the Rajah said, “Do not cry any more, fair Princess; you shall come home with me and be my Ranee, and my father and mother shall be yours.” At this she smiled and dried her eyes, but quickly added, “You will let me take these crows with me, will you not? for I love them dearly, and I cannot go away unless they may come too.” “To be sure,” he answered. “You maybring all the animals in the jungle with you, if you like, so you will only come.”

So he took her home to his father’s house, and the old Rajah and Ranee wondered much at this jungle Lady, when they saw her rare beauty, her modest gentle ways and her queenly grace. Then the young Rajah told them how she was a persecuted Princess, and asked their leave to marry her; and because her loving goodness had won all hearts, they gave their consent as joyfully as if she had been daughter of the greatest of Rajahs, and brought with her a splendid dower; and they called her Draupadi Bai.[47]

Draupadi had some beautiful trees planted in front of her palace, in which the crows, her brothers, used to live, and she daily with her own hands boiled a quantity of rice, which she would scatter for them to eat as they flocked around her. Now some time after this, Draupadi Bai had a son, who was called Ramchundra. He was a very good boy, and his mother Draupadi Bai used to take him to school every morning, and go and fetch him home in the evening. But one day, when Ramchundra was about fourteen years old, it happened that Draupadi Bai did not go to fetch him home from school as she was wont; and on his return he found her sitting under the trees in front of her palace, stroking the glossy black crows that flocked around her, and weeping.

Then Ramchundra threw down his bundle of books, and said to his mother, putting his elbows on her knees, and looking up in her face, “Mammy, dear, tell mewhy you are now crying, and what it is that makes you so often sad.” “Oh, nothing, nothing,” she answered. “Yes, dear mother,” said he, “do tell me. Can I help you? If I can, I will.” Draupadi Bai shook her head. “Alas, no, my son,” she said; “you are too young to help me; and as for my grief, I have never told it to any one. I cannot tell it to you now.” But Ramchundra continued begging and praying her to tell him, until at last she did; relating to him all her own and his uncles’ sad history; and lastly, how they had been changed by a Rakshas into the black crows he saw around him. Then the boy sprang up and said, “Which way did your brothers take when they met the Rakshas?” “How can I tell?” she asked. “Why,” he answered, “I thought perhaps you might remember on which side they returned that first night to you, after being bewitched?” “Oh,” she said, “they came toward the tree from that part of the jungle which lies in a straight line behind the palace.” “Very well,” cried Ramchundra, joyfully, “I also will go there, and find out this wicked old Rakshas, and learn by what means they may be disenchanted.” “No, no, my son,” she answered, “I cannot let you go: see, I have lost father and mother, and these my hundred brothers; and now, if you fall into the Rakshas’ clutches as well as they, and are lost to me, what will life have worth living for?” To this he replied, “Do not fear for me, mother; I will be wary and discreet.” And going to his father, he said, “Father, it is time I should see something of the world. I beg you to permit me to travel and see other lands.” The Rajah answered, “You shall go. Tell me what attendants you would like to accompany you?” “Give me,” said Ramchundra,“a horse to ride, and a groom to take care of it.” The Rajah consented, and Ramchundra set off riding toward the jungle; but as soon as he got there, he sent his horse back by the groom with a message to his parents, and proceeded alone, on foot.

After wandering about for some time he came upon a small hut, in which lay an ugly old woman fast asleep. She had long claws instead of hands, and her hair hung down all around her in a thick black tangle. Ramchundra knew, by the whole appearance of the place, that he must have reached the Rakshas’ abode of which he was in search; so, stealing softly in, he sat down and began shampooing her head. At last the Rakshas woke up. “You dear little boy,” she said, “do not be afraid; I am only a poor old woman, and will not hurt you. Stay with me, and you shall be my servant.” This she said not from any feeling of kindness or pity for Ramchundra, but merely because she thought he might be helpful to her. So the young Rajah remained in her service, determining to stay there till he should have learnt from her all that he wished to know.

Thus one day he said to her, “Good mother, what is the use of all those little jars of water you have arranged round your house?” She answered, “That water possesses certain magical attributes: if any of it is sprinkled on people enchanted by me, they instantly resume their former shape.” “And what,” he continued, “is the use of your wand?” “That,” she replied, “has many supernatural powers: for instance, by simply uttering your wish and waving it in the air, you can conjure up a mountain, a river or a forest in a moment of time.”

Another day Ramchundra said to her, “Your hair, good mother, is dreadfully tangled; pray let me comb it.” “No,” she said, “you must not touch my hair; it would be dangerous; for every hair has power to set the jungle on fire.” “How is that?” he asked. She replied, “The least fragment of my hair thrown in the direction of the jungle would instantly set it in a blaze.” Having learnt all this, one day when it was very hot, and the old Rakshas was drowsy, Ramchundra begged leave to shampoo her head, which speedily sent her to sleep; then, gently pulling out two or three of her hairs, he got up, and taking in one hand her wand, and in the other two jars of the magic water, he stealthily left the hut; but he had not gone far before she woke up, and instantly divining what he had done, pursued him with great rapidity. Ramchundra, looking back and perceiving that she was gaining upon him, waved the enchanted wand and created a great river, which suddenly rolled its tumultuous waves between them; but, quick as thought, the Rakshas swam the river.

Then he turned, and waving the wand again, caused a high mountain to rise between them; but the Rakshas climbed the mountain. Nearer she came, and yet nearer; each time he turned to use the wand and put obstacles in her way, the delay gave her a few minutes’ advantage, so that he lost almost as much as he gained. Then, as a last resource, he scattered the hairs he had stolen to the winds, and instantly the jungle on the hill side, through which the Rakshas was coming, was set in a blaze; the fire rose higher and higher, the wicked old Rakshas was consumed by the flames, and Ramchundra pursued his journey in safety until he reached his father’s palace. Draupadi Bai wasoverjoyed to see her son again, and he led her out into the garden, and scattered the magic water on the hundred black crows, which instantly recovered their human forms, and stood up one hundred fine, handsome young men.

Then were there rejoicings throughout the country, because the Ranee’s brothers had been disenchanted; and the Rajah sent out into all neighboring lands to invite their Rajahs and Ranees to a great feast in honor of his brothers-in-law.

Among others who came to the feast was the Rajah Draupadi Bai’s father, and the twelve wicked Ranees his wives.

When they were all assembled, Draupadi arose, and said to him, “Noble sir, we had looked to see your wife Guzra Bai with you. Pray you tell us wherefore she has not accompanied you.” The Rajah was much surprised to learn that Draupadi Bai knew anything about Guzra Bai, and he said, “Speak not of her: she is a wicked woman; it is fit that she should end her days in prison.” But Draupadi Bai and her husband, and her hundred brothers, rose and said, “We require, O Rajah, that you send home instantly and fetch hither that much injured lady, which, if you refuse to do, your wives shall be imprisoned, and you ignominiously expelled this kingdom.”

The Rajah could not guess what the meaning of this was, and thought they merely wished to pick a quarrel with him: but not much caring whether Guzra Bai came or not, he sent for her as was desired. When she arrived, her daughter Draupadi Bai, and her hundred sons, with Draupadi Bai’s husband and the young Ramchundra, went out to the gate to meet her, andconducted her into the palace with all honor. Then, standing around her, they turned to the Rajah her husband, and related to him the story of their lives; how that they were his children, and Guzra Bai their mother; how she had been cruelly calumniated by the twelve wicked Ranees, and they in constant peril of their lives; but having miraculously escaped many terrible dangers, still lived to pay him duteous service and to cheer and support his old age.

At this news the whole company was very much astonished. The Rajah, overjoyed, embraced his wife Guzra Bai, and it was agreed that she and their hundred sons should return with him to his own land, which accordingly was done. Ramchundra lived very happily with his father and mother to the day of their death, when he ascended the throne, and became a very popular Rajah; and the twelve wicked old Ranees, who had conspired against Guzra Bai and her children, were, by order of the Rajah, burnt to death. Thus truth triumphed in the end; but so unequally is human justice meted out that the old nurse, who worked their evil will, and was in fact the most guilty wretch of all, is said to have lived unpunished, to have died in the bosom of her family, and to have had as big a funeral pile as any virtuous Hindoo.

FOOTNOTES:[41]Solanum molengena—the egg-shaped fruit of which is a favorite vegetable all over India.[42]Flower Girl.[43]“It must have been a kind of telegraph to go so quick,” my Narrator said.[44]Kingdom.[45]A species of large rat.[46]Washerman.[47]Doubtless after the beautiful Princess Draupadi, daughter of the Rajah of Panchala, and a famous character in the great Hindoo epic, the “Maha Bharata.”

[41]Solanum molengena—the egg-shaped fruit of which is a favorite vegetable all over India.

[42]Flower Girl.

[43]“It must have been a kind of telegraph to go so quick,” my Narrator said.

[44]Kingdom.

[45]A species of large rat.

[46]Washerman.

[47]Doubtless after the beautiful Princess Draupadi, daughter of the Rajah of Panchala, and a famous character in the great Hindoo epic, the “Maha Bharata.”

“With a lengthened loud halloo,Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo.”

ONCE upon a time there was a Rajah whose name was Chandra Rajah,[48]and he had a learned Wuzeer or Minister, named Butti. Their mutual love was so great that they were more like brothers than master and servant. Neither the Rajah nor the Wuzeer had any children, and both were equally anxious to have a son. At last, in one day and one hour, the wife of the Rajah and the wife of the Wuzeer had each a little baby boy. They named the Rajah’s son Rama, and the son of the Wuzeer was called Luxman, and there were great rejoicings at the birth of both. The boys grew up and loved each other tenderly: they were never happy unless together; together they went to daily school, together bathed and played, and they would not eat except from off one plate. One day, when Rama Rajah was fifteen years old, his mother, the Ranee, said to Chandra Rajah: “Husband, our son associates too much with low people; for instance, he is always at play with the Wuzeer’s son, Luxman, which is not befitting his rank. I wish you wouldendeavor to put an end to their friendship, and find him better playmates.”

Chandra Rajah replied, “I cannot do it: Luxman’s father is my very good friend and Wuzeer, as his father’s father was to my father; let the sons be the same.” This answer annoyed the Ranee, but she said no more to her husband; she sent, however, for all the wise people, and seers, and conjurors in the land, and inquired of them whether there existed no means of dissolving the children’s affection for each other; they answered they knew of none. At last one old Nautch[49]woman came to the Ranee and said, “I can do this thing you wish, but for it you must give me a great reward.” Then the Ranee gave the old woman an enormous bag full of gold mohurs,[50]and said, “This I give you now, and if you succeed in the undertaking I will give you as much again.” So this wicked old woman disguised herself in a very rich dress, and went to a garden-house which Chandra Rajah had built for his son, and where Rama Rajah and Luxman, the young Wuzeer, used to spend the greater part of their playtime. Outside the house was a large well and a fine garden. When the old woman arrived, the two boys were playing cards together in the garden close to the well. She drew near, and began drawing water from it. Rama Rajah looking up, saw her, and said to Luxman, “Go, see who that richly-dressed woman is, and bring me word.” The Wuzeer’s son did as he was bidden, and asked the woman what she wanted. She answered, “Nothing, oh nothing,” and nodding her head went away; then, returning to the Ranee,she said, “I have done as you wished; give me the promised reward,” and the Ranee gave her the second bag of gold. On Luxman’s return, the young Rajah said to him, “What did the woman want?” Luxman answered, “She told me she wanted nothing.” “It is not true,” replied the other, angrily; “I feel certain she must have told you something. Why should she come here for no purpose? It is some secret which you are concealing from me; I insist on knowing it.” Luxman vainly protesting his innocence, they quarreled and then fought, and the young Rajah ran home very angry to his father. “What is the matter, my son?” said he. “Father,” he answered, “I am angry with the Wuzeer’s son. I hate that boy; kill him, and let his eyes be brought to me in proof of his death, or I will not eat my dinner.” Chandra Rajah was very much grieved at this, but the young Rajah would eat no dinner, and at last his father said to the Wuzeer, “Take your son away and hide him, for the boys have had a quarrel.” Then he went out and shot a deer, and showing its eyes to Rama, said to him, “See, my son, the good Wuzeer’s son has by your order been deprived of life,” and Rama Rajah was merry, and ate his dinner. But a while after he began to miss his kind playmate; there was nobody he cared for to tell him stories and amuse him. Then for four nights running he dreamed of a beautiful Glass Palace, in which dwelt a Princess white as marble, and he sent for all the wise people in the kingdom to interpret his dream, but none could do it; and, thinking upon this fair princess and his lost friend, he got more and more sad, and said to himself: “There is nobody to help me in this matter. Ah! if my Wuzeer’s son were here now, how quicklywould he interpret the dream! Oh, my friend, my friend, my dear lost friend!” and when Chandra Rajah, his father, came in, he said to him: “Show me the grave of Luxman, son of the Wuzeer, that I also may die there.” His father replied, “What a foolish boy you are! You first begged that the Wuzeer’s son might be killed, and now you want to die on his grave. What is all this about?” Rama Rajah replied, “Oh, why did you give the order for him to be put to death? In him I have lost my friend and all my joy in life; show me now his grave, for thereon, I swear, will I kill myself.” When the Rajah saw that his son really grieved for the loss of Luxman, he said to him, “You have to thank me for not regarding your foolish wishes; your old playmate is living, therefore be friends again, for what you thought were his eyes were but the eyes of a deer.” So the friendship of Rama and Luxman was resumed on its former footing. Then Rama said to Luxman, “Four nights ago I dreamed a strange dream. I thought that for miles and miles I wandered through a dense jungle, after which I came upon a grove of Cocoa-nut trees, passing through which I reached one compound entirely of Guava trees, then one of Soparee[51]trees, and lastly one of Copal trees: beyond this lay a garden of flowers, of which the Malee’s wife gave me a bunch; round the garden ran a large river, and on the other side of this I saw a fair palace composed of transparent glass, and in the centre of it sat the most lovely Princess I ever saw, white as marble and covered with rich jewels; at the sight of her beauty I fainted—and so awoke. This has happened now four times, and as yet I have found no one capable of throwingany light on the vision.” Luxman answered, “I can tell you. There exists a Princess exactly like her you saw in your dreams, and, if you like, you can go and marry her.” “How can I?” said Rama; “and what is your interpretation of the dream?” The Wuzeer’s son replied, “Listen to me, and I will tell you. In a country very far away from this, in the centre of a great Rajah’s kingdom, there dwells his daughter, a most fair Princess; she lives in a glass palace. Round this palace runs a large river, and round the river is a garden of flowers. Round the garden are four thick groves of trees—one of Copal trees, one of Soparee trees, one of Guava trees, and one of Cocoa-nut trees. The Princess is twenty-four years old, but she is not married, for she has determined only to marry whoever can jump this river and greet her in her crystal palace, and though many thousand kings have essayed to do so, they have all perished miserably in the attempt, having either been drowned in the river, or broken their necks by falling; thus all that you dreamed of is perfectly true.” “Can we go to this country?” asked the young Rajah. “Oh, yes,” his friend replied. “This is what you must do. Go tell your father you wish to see the world. Ask him for neither elephants nor attendants, but beg him to lend you for the journey his old war-horse.”

Upon this Rama went to his father, and said, “Father, I pray you give me leave to go and travel with the Wuzeer’s son. I desire to see the world.” “What would you have for the journey, my son?” said Chandra Rajah; “will you have elephants and how many?—attendants, how many?” “Neither, father,” he answered, “give me rather, I pray you, your old war-horse, that I may ride him during the journey.”“So be it, my son,” he answered, and with that Rama Rajah and Luxman set forth on their travels. After going many, many thousands of miles, to their joy one day they came upon a dense grove of Cocoa-nut trees, and beyond that to a grove of Guava trees, then to one of Soparee trees, and lastly to one of Copal trees; after which they entered a beautiful garden, where the Malee’s wife presented them with a large bunch of flowers. Then they knew that they had nearly reached the place where the fair Princess dwelt. Now it happened that, because many kings and great people had been drowned in trying to jump over the river that ran round the Glass Palace where the Princess lived, the Rajah, her father, had made a law that, in future, no aspirants to her hand were to attempt the jump, except at stated times and with his knowledge and permission, and that any Rajahs or Princes found wandering there, contrary to this law, were to be imprisoned. Of this the young Rajah and the Wuzeer’s son knew nothing, and having reached the centre of the garden they found themselves on the banks of a large river, exactly opposite the wondrous Glass Palace, and were just debating what further steps to take, when they were seized by the Rajah’s guard, and hurried off to prison.

“This is a hard fate,” said Luxman. “Yes,” sighed Rama Rajah; “a dismal end, in truth, to all our fine schemes. Would it be possible, think you, to escape?” “I think so,” answered Luxman; “at all events, I will try.” With that he turned to the sentry who was guarding them, and said, “We are shut in here and can’t get out: here is money for you if you will only have the goodness to call out that the Malee’s Cow has strayed away.” The sentry thought this a very easyway of making a fortune; so he called out as he was bidden, and took the money. The result answered Luxman’s anticipations. The Malee’s wife, hearing the sentry calling out, thought to herself, “What, sentries round the guard-room again! then there must be prisoners; doubtless they are those two young Rajahs I met in the garden this morning; at least, I will endeavor to release them.” So she asked two old beggars to accompany her, and taking with her offerings of flowers and sweetmeats, started as if to go to a little temple which was built within the quadrangle where the prisoners were kept. The sentries, thinking she was only going with two old friends to visit the temple, allowed her to pass without opposition. As soon as she got within the quadrangle she unfastened the prison door, and told the two young men (Rama Rajah and Luxman) to change clothes with the two old beggars, which they instantly did. Then, leaving the beggars in the cell, she conducted Rama and Luxman safely to her house. When they had reached it she said to them, “Young Princes, you must know that you did very wrong in going down to the river before having made a salaam to our Rajah, and gained his consent; and so strict is the law on the subject that had I not assisted your escape, you might have remained a long time in prison; though, as I felt certain you only erred through ignorance, I was the more willing to help you; but to-morrow morning early you must go and pay your respects at court.”

Next day the guards brought their two prisoners to the Rajah, saying, “See, O King, here are two young Rajahs whom we caught last night wandering near the river contrary to your law and commandment.” Butwhen they came to look at the prisoners, lo and behold! they were only two old beggars whom everybody knew and had often seen at the palace gate.

Then the Rajah laughed and said, “You stupid fellows, you have been over vigilant for once; see here your fine young Rajahs. Don’t you yet know the looks of these old beggars?” Whereupon the guards went away much ashamed of themselves.

Having learnt discretion from the advice of the Malee’s wife, Rama and Luxman went betimes that morning to call at the Rajah’s palace. The Rajah received them very graciously, but when he heard the object of the journey he shook his head, and said, “My pretty fellows, far be it from me to thwart your intentions, if you are really determined to strive to win my daughter, the Princess Bargaruttee;[52]but as a friend I would counsel you to desist from the attempt. You can find a hundred Princesses elsewhere willing to marry you; why, therefore, come here, where already a thousand Princes as fair as you have lost there lives? Cease to think of my daughter—she is a headstrong girl.” But Rama Rajah still declared himself anxious to try and jump the dangerous river, whereupon the Rajah unwillingly consented to his attempting to do so, and caused it to be solemnly proclaimed around the town that another Prince was going to risk his life, begging all good men and true to pray for his success. Then Rama, having dressed gorgeously, and mounted his father’s stout war-horse, put spurs to it and galloped to the river. Up, up in the air, like a bird, jumped the good war-horse, right across the river and into the very centre courtyard of the Glass Palace of the PrincessBargaruttee; and, as if ashamed of so poor an exploit, this feat he accomplished three times. At this the heart of the Rajah was glad, and he ran and patted the brave horse, and kissed Rama Rajah, and said, “Welcome, my son-in-law.” The wedding took place amid great rejoicings, with feasts, illuminations and much giving of presents, and there Rama Rajah and his wife, the Ranee Bargaruttee, lived happily for some time. At last, one day Rama Rajah said to his father-in-law, “Sire, I have been very happy here, but I have a great desire to see my father and my mother, and my own land again.” To which the Rajah replied, “My son, you are free to go; but I have no son but you, nor daughter but your wife: therefore, as it grieves me to lose sight of you, come back now and then to see me and rejoice my heart. My doors are ever open to you; you will be always welcome.”

Rama Rajah promised to return occasionally; and then, being given many rich gifts by the old Rajah, and supplied with all things needful for the journey, he, with his beautiful wife Bargaruttee, his friend the young Wuzeer, and a great retinue, set out to return home. Before going, Rama Rajah and Luxman richly rewarded the kind Malee’s wife, who had helped them so ably. On the first evening of their march the travelers reached the borders of the Cocoa-nut grove, on the outskirts of the jungle; here they determined to halt and rest for the night. Rama Rajah and the Ranee Bargaruttee went to their tent; but Luxman (whose tender love for them was so great that he usually watched all night through at their door), was sitting under a large tree close by, when two little owls flew over his head, and perching on one of the highestbranches, began chattering to each other.[53]The Wuzeer’s son, who was in many ways wiser than most men, could understand their language. To his surprise he heard the little lady owl say to her husband, “I wish you would tell me a story, my dear, it is such a long time since I have heard one.” To which her husband, the other little owl, answered, “A story! what story can I tell you? Do you see these people encamped under our tree? Would you like to hear their story?” She assented; and he began: “See first this poor Wuzeer; he is a good and faithful man, and has done much for this young Rajah, but neither has that been to his advantage heretofore, nor will it be hereafter.” At this Luxman listened more attentively, and taking out his writing tablets determined to note down all he heard. The little owl commenced with the story of the birth of Rama and Luxman, of their friendship, their quarrel, the young Rajah’s dream, and their reconciliation, and then told of their subsequent adventures in search of the Princess Bargaruttee, down to that very day on which they were journeying home. “And what more has Fate in store for this poor Wuzeer?” asked the lady owl. “From this place,” replied her husband, “he will journey on with the young Rajah and Ranee, until they get very near Chandra Rajah’s dominions; there, as the whole cavalcade is about to pass under a large Banyan tree, this Wuzeer Luxman will notice some of the topmost branches swaying about in a dangerous manner; he will hurry the Rajah and Ranee away from it, and the tree (which would otherwise have inevitably killed them,) will fall to the ground with a tremendous crash;but even his having thus saved the Rajah’s life shall not avert his fate.” (All this the Wuzeer noted down.) “And what next?” said the wife, “what next?” “Next,” continued the wise little story-teller, “next, just as the Rajah Rama and the Ranee Bargaruttee and all their suite are passing under the palace door-way, the Wuzeer will notice that the arch is insecure, and by dragging them quickly through, prevent their being crushed in its fall.” “And what will he do after that, dear husband?” she asked. “After that,” he went on, “when the Rajah and Ranee are asleep, and the Wuzeer Luxman keeping guard over them, he will perceive a large cobra slowly crawling down the wall and drawing nearer and nearer to the Ranee. He will kill it with his sword, but a drop of the cobra’s blood shall fall on the Ranee’s white forehead. The Wuzeer will not dare to wipe the blood off her forehead with his hand, but shall instead cover his face with a cloth that he may lick it off with his tongue; but for this the Rajah will be angry with him, and his reproaches will turn this poor Wuzeer into stone.”

“Will he always remain stone?” asked the lady owl. “Not for ever,” answered the husband, “but for eight long years he will remain so.” “And what then?” demanded she. “Then,” answered the other, “when the young Rajah and Ranee have a baby, it shall come to pass that one day the child shall be playing on the floor, and to help itself along shall clasp hold of the stony figure, and at that baby’s touch the Wuzeer will come to life again. But I have told you enough for one night; come, let’s catch mice—tuwhit, tuwhoo, tuwhoo,” and away flew the owls. Luxman had writtendown all he heard, and it made him heavy-hearted, but he thought, “Perhaps, after all, this may not be true.” So he said nothing about it to any living soul. Next day they continued their journey, and as the owl had prophesied, so events fell out. For, as the whole party were passing under a large Banyan tree, the Wuzeer noticed that it looked unsafe. “The owl spake truly,” he thought to himself, and, seizing the Rajah and Ranee, he hurried them from under it, just as a huge limb of the tree fell prone with a fearful crash.

A little while after, having reached Chandra Rajah’s dominions, they were just going under the great arch of the palace courtyard, when the Wuzeer noticed some of the stones tottering. “The owl was a true prophet,” thought he again, and catching hold of the hands of Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee, he pulled them rapidly through, just in time to save their lives. “Pardon me,” he said to the Rajah, “that unbidden I dared thus to touch your hand and that of the Ranee, but I saw the danger imminent.” So they reached home, where they were joyfully welcomed by Chandra Rajah, the Ranee, the Wuzeer (Luxman’s father), and all the court.

A few nights afterward, when the Rajah and Ranee were asleep, and the young Wuzeer keeping guard over them as he was wont, he saw a large black cobra stealthily creeping down the wall just above the Ranee’s head. “Alas!” he thought, “then such is my fate, and so it must be; nevertheless, I will do my duty,” and, taking from the folds of his dress the history of his and the young Rajah’s life, from their boyhood down to that very time (as he had written it from theowl’s narrative), he laid it beside the sleeping Rama, and drawing his sword, killed the cobra. A few drops of the serpent’s blood fell on the Ranee’s forehead: the Wuzeer did not dare to touch it with his hand, but, that her sacred brow might not be defiled with the vile cobra’s blood, he reverently covered his face and mouth with a cloth to lick the drops of blood away. At this moment the Rajah started up, and seeing him, said: “O Wuzeer, Wuzeer, is this well done of you? O Luxman, who have been to me as a brother, who have saved me from so many difficulties, why do you treat me thus, to kiss her holy forehead? If indeed you loved her (as who could help it?), could you not have told me when we first saw her in that Glass Palace, and I would have exiled myself that she might be your wife? O my brother, my brother, why did you mock me thus?” The Rajah had buried his face in his hands; he looked up, he turned to the Wuzeer, but from him came neither answer nor reply. He had become a senseless stone. Then Rama for the first time perceived the roll of paper which Luxman had laid beside him, and when he read in it of what Luxman had been to him from boyhood, and of the end, his bitter grief broke through all bounds; and, falling at the feet of the statue, he clasped its stony knees and wept aloud. When daylight dawned, Chandra Rajah and the Ranee found Rama still weeping and hugging the stone, asking its forgiveness with penitent cries and tears. Then they said to him, “What is this you have done?” When he told them, the Rajah his father was very angry, and said: “Was it not enough that you should have once before unjustly desired the death of this good man, but that now by your rash reproaches you shouldhave turned him into stone? Go to; you do but continually what is evil.”

Now eight long years rolled by without the Wuzeer returning to his original form, although every day Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee would watch beside him, kissing his cold hands, and adjuring him by all endearing names to forgive them and return to them again. When eight years had expired, Rama and Bargaruttee had a child; and from the time it was nine months old and first began to try and crawl about, the father and mother would sit and watch beside it, placing it near the Wuzeer’s statue, in hopes that the baby would some day touch it as the owl had foretold.

But for three months they watched in vain. At last, one day when the child was a year old, and was trying to walk, it chanced to be close to the statue, and tottering on its unsteady feet, stretched out its tiny hands and caught hold of the foot of the statue. The Wuzeer instantly came back to life, and stooping down seized the little baby who had rescued him in his arms, and kissed it. It is impossible to describe the delight of Rama Rajah and his wife at regaining their long-lost friend. The old Rajah and Ranee rejoiced also, with the Wuzeer (Luxman Wuzeer’s father), and his mother.

Then Chandra Rajah said to the Wuzeer: “Here is my boy happy with his wife and child, while your son has neither; go fetch him a wife, and we will have a right merry wedding.”

So the Wuzeer of the Rajah fetched for his son a kind and beautiful wife, and Chandra Rajah and Rama Rajah caused the wedding of Luxman to begrander than that of any great Rajah before or since, even as if he had been a son of the royal house; and they all lived very happy ever after, as all good fathers, and mothers, and husbands, and wives, and children do.

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