Khasi: What Makes the Lightning

This story is part of the Khasi Folktales unit. Story source: Folk-Tales of the Khasis by Mrs. K. U. Rafy (1920).

What Makes the Lightning

In the early days of the world, when the animals fraternised with mankind, they tried to emulate the manners and customs of men, and they spoke their language.

Mankind held a great festival every thirteen moons where the strongest men and the handsomest youths danced “sword dances” and contested in archery and other noble games, such as befitted their race and their tribe as men of the Hills and the Forests — the oldest and the noblest of all the tribes.

The animals used to attend these festivals and enjoyed watching the games and the dances. Some of the younger and more enterprising among them even clamoured for a similar carnival for the animals, to which, after a time, the elders agreed, so it was decided that the animals should appoint a day to hold a great feast.

After a period of practising dances and learning games, U Pyrthat, the thunder giant, was sent out with his big drum to summon all the world to the festival. The drum of U Pyrthat was the biggest and the loudest of all drums and could be heard from the most remote corner of the forest; consequently, a very large multitude came together, such as had never before been seen at any festival.

The animals were all very smartly arrayed, each one after his or her own taste and fashion, and each one carrying some weapon of warfare or a musical instrument, according to the part he intended to play in the festival. There was much amusement when the squirrel came up, beating on a little drum as he marched; in his wake came the little bird Shakyllia, playing on a flute, followed by the porcupine marching to the rhythm of a pair of small cymbals.

Every one was exceedingly merry — they joked and poked fun at one another, in great glee; some of the animals laughed so much on that feast day that they have never been able to laugh since. The mole was there, and on looking up, he saw the owl trying to dance, swaying as if she were drunk and tumbling against all sorts of obstacles, as she could not see where she was going, at which he laughed so heartily that his eyes became narrow slits and have remained so to this day.

(lynx)

When the merriment was at its height, U Kui, the lynx, arrived on the scene, displaying a very handsome silver sword which he had procured at great expense to make a show at the festival. When he began to dance and to brandish the silver sword, everybody applauded. He really danced very gracefully, but so much approbation turned his head, and he became very uplifted and began to think himself better than all his neighbours.

Just then U Pyrthat, the thunder giant, happened to look round, and he saw the performance of the lynx and admired the beauty of the silver sword, and he asked to have the handling of it for a short time, as a favour, saying that he would like to dance a little, but had brought no instrument except his big drum.

This was not at all to U Kui’s liking, for he did not want any one but himself to handle his fine weapon, but all the animals began to shout as if with one voice, saying “Shame!” for showing such discourtesy to a guest, and especially to the guest by whose kindly offices the assembly had been summoned together, so U Kui was driven to yield up his silver sword.

As soon as U Pyrthat got possession of the sword, he began to wield it with such rapidity and force that it flashed like leaping flame, till all eyes were dazzled almost to blindness, and at the same time he started to beat on his big drum with such violence that the earth shook and trembled and the animals fled in terror to hide in the jungle.

During the confusion, U Pyrthat leaped to the sky, taking the lynx’s silver sword with him, and he is frequently seen brandishing it wildly there and beating loudly on his drum. In many countries, people call these manifestations “thunder” and “lightning,” but the Ancient Khasis who were present at the festival knew them to be the stolen sword of the lynx.

U Kui was very disconsolate and has never grown reconciled to his loss. It is said of him that he has never wandered far from home since then, in order to live near a mound he is trying to raise which he hopes will one day reach the sky. He hopes to climb to the top of it, to overtake the giant U Pyrthat, and to seize once more his silver sword.

Next: Ka Panshandi, the Lazy Tortoise

(800 words)

Khasi: Ka Panshandi, the Lazy Tortoise

This story is part of the Khasi Folktales unit. Story source: Folk-Tales of the Khasis by Mrs. K. U. Rafy (1920).

The Legend of Ka Panshandi, the Lazy Tortoise

Once upon a time, there lived a young tortoise near a large pool. She was very ill-favoured and ugly in appearance and very foolish, as well as being of a lazy disposition, and, like all lazy people, she was slovenly and dirty in her habits. Her name was Ka Panshandi.

The pool near which she lived being very clear, the stars and other heavenly bodies often gazed into it to behold their own images. At times the reflection of countless shining, blinking stars would be visible in the placid waters till the pool looked like a little part of the sky. At such times Ka Panshandi took immense delight in plunging into the pool, darting backwards and forwards and twirling round the bright silvery spots with great glee and contentment.

Among those who came frequently to gaze at themselves in the pool was U Lurmangkhara, the brightest of all the stars; he began to notice the playful gambols of Ka Panshandi in the water and to admire her twirling motions. He lived so far away that he could not see her ugliness, nor could he know that she was lazy and foolish. All he knew was that she exposed herself nightly to the chilly waters of the pool in order (as he thought) to have the pleasure of being near the images of the stars, which was very flattering to his vanity. If she was so strongly attracted by their images, he thought to himself, how much more would she adore the real live stars if she were brought into contact with them.

U Lurmangkhara fell deeply in love with her, and determined to go down to the earth to marry her and to endow her with all his wealth, for he was very rich and had always lived in great splendour.

When his relations and friends heard of his purpose, they were much disturbed, and they came to remonstrate with him against what they considered to be a very rash and risky step — to go to a foreign land to make his home and to mate with an unknown consort whose habits and outlook on life might be altogether alien to him. But U Lurmangkhara would listen to no counsel. Persons in love never take heed of other people’s advice. Down to the earth he came, and there married Ka Panshandi and endowed her with all his wealth.

When Ka Panshandi found herself a rich wife, having unexpectedly won one of the noblest husbands in the world, her vanity knew no bounds, and she grew more indolent and idle than ever. Her house was squalid, and she minded not when even her own body was daubed with mud, and she felt no shame to see her husband’s meals served off unscoured platters.

U Lurmangkhara was very disappointed; being patient and gentle, he tried by kind words to teach his wife to amend her ways, but it was of no avail. Gradually he grew discontented and spoke angrily to her, but she remained as callous and as indifferent as ever, for it is easier to turn even a thief from stealing than to induce a sluggard to renounce his sloth. He threatened to leave her, her neighbours also repeatedly warned her that she would lose her good husband unless she altered her ways, but she remained as unconcerned as ever. At last, driven to despair, U Lurmangkhara gathered together all his wealth and went back to his home in the sky.

Ka Panshandi was filled with remorse and grief when she found that her husband had departed. She called piteously after him, promising to reform if he would only return, but it was too late. He never came back, and she was left to her squalor and her shame.

To this day Ka Panshandi is still hoping to see U Lurmangkhara coming back to the earth, and she is seen crawling about mournfully, with her neck outstretched towards the sky in expectation of his coming, but there is no sign of his return, and her life is dull and joyless.

After these events Ka Panshandi’s name became a mockery and a proverb in the land; ballads were sung setting forth her fate as a warning to lazy and thriftless wives. To the present day a forsaken wife who entertains hope of her husband’s return is likened by the Khasis to Ka Panshandi in her expectant attitude with her head lifted above her shell: “Ka Panshandi dem-lor-khah.”

Next: How the Cat came to live with Man

(tortoise)

(700 words)

Bengal: The Origin of Rubies

You may be surprised to find that the god Shiva makes an appearance in this story; for more about Shiva, see Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Bengali Folktales unit. Story source: Folk-Tales of Bengal by the Rev. Lal Behari Day, with illustrations by Warwick Goble (1912).

The Origin of Rubies

There was a certain king who died, leaving four sons behind him, with his queen. The queen was passionately fond of the youngest of the princes. She gave him the best robes, the best horses, the best food, and the best furniture. The other three princes became exceedingly jealous of their youngest brother and, conspiring against him and their mother, made them live in a separate house and took possession of the estate.

Owing to overindulgence, the youngest prince had become very wilful. He never listened to any one, not even to his mother, but had his own way in everything.

One day he went with his mother to bathe in the river. A large boat was riding there at anchor. None of the boatmen were in it. The prince went into the boat and told his mother to come into it. His mother besought him to get down from the boat, as it did not belong to him. But the prince said, “No, mother, I am not coming down; I mean to go on a voyage, and if you wish to come with me, then delay not but come up at once, or I shall be off in a trice.”

The queen besought the prince to do no such thing, but to come down instantly. But the prince gave no heed to what she said and began to take up the anchor. The queen went up into the boat in great haste, and the moment she was on board, the boat started and, falling into the current, passed on swiftly like an arrow.

The boat went on and on till it reached the sea. After it had gone many furlongs into the open sea, the boat came near a whirlpool, where the prince saw a great many rubies of monstrous size floating on the waters. Such large rubies no one had ever seen, each being in value equal to the wealth of seven kings.

The prince caught hold of half a dozen of those rubies, and put them on board. His mother said, “Darling, don’t take up those red balls; they must belong to somebody who has been shipwrecked, and we may be taken up as thieves.” At the repeated entreaties of his mother, the prince threw them into the sea, keeping only one tied up in his clothes. The boat then drifted towards the coast, and the queen and the prince arrived at a certain port where they landed.

The port where they landed was not a small place; it was a large city, the capital of a great king. Not far from the place, the queen and her son hired a hut where they lived. As the prince was yet a boy, he was fond of playing at marbles. When the children of the king came out to play on a lawn before the palace, our young prince joined them. He had no marbles, but he played with the ruby which he had in his possession. The ruby was so hard that it broke every taw against which it struck.

The daughter of the king, who used to watch the games from a balcony of the palace, was astonished to see a brilliant red ball in the hand of the strange lad and wanted to take possession of it. She told her father that a boy of the street had an uncommonly bright stone in his possession which she must have, or else she would starve herself to death.

The king ordered his servants to bring to him the lad with the precious stone. When the boy was brought, the king wondered at the largeness and brilliancy of the ruby. He had never seen anything like it. He doubted whether any king of any country in the world possessed so great a treasure. He asked the lad where he had got it. The lad replied that he got it from the sea.

The king offered a thousand rupees for the ruby, and the lad, not knowing its value, readily parted with it for that sum. He went with the money to his mother, who was not a little frightened, thinking that her son had stolen the money from some rich man’s house. She became quiet, however, on being assured that the money was given to him by the king in exchange for the red ball which he had picked up in the sea.

The king’s daughter, on getting the ruby, put it in her hair, and, standing before her pet parrot, said to the bird, “Oh, my darling parrot, don’t I look very beautiful with this ruby in my hair?”

Next: The Origin of Rubies (cont.)

(700 words)

Bengal: The Origin of Rubies (cont.)

This story is part of the Bengali Folktales unit. Story source: Folk-Tales of Bengal by the Rev. Lal Behari Day, with illustrations by Warwick Goble (1912).

The Origin of Rubies (cont.)

The parrot replied, “Beautiful! You look quite hideous with it! What princess ever puts only one ruby in her hair? It would be somewhat feasible if you had two at least.”

Stung with shame at the reproach cast in her teeth by the parrot, the princess went into the grief-chamber of the palace and would neither eat nor drink.

The king was not a little concerned when he heard that his daughter had gone into the grief-chamber. He went to her and asked her the cause of her grief. The princess told the king what her pet parrot had said, and added, “Father, if you do not procure for me another ruby like this, I’ll put an end to my life by mine own hands.”

The king was overwhelmed with grief. Where was he to get another ruby like it? He doubted whether another like it could be found in the whole world.

He ordered the lad who had sold the ruby to be brought into his presence. “Have you, young man,” asked the king, “another ruby like the one you sold me?”

The lad replied, “No, I have not got one. Why, do you want another? I can give you lots, if you wish to have them. They are to be found in a whirlpool in the sea, far, far away. I can go and fetch some for you.”

Amazed at the lad’s reply, the king offered rich rewards for procuring only another ruby of the same sort.

The lad went home and said to his mother that he must go to sea again to fetch some rubies for the king. The woman was quite frightened at the idea and begged him not to go. But the lad was resolved on going, and nothing could prevent him from carrying out his purpose.

He accordingly went alone on board that same vessel which had brought him and his mother, and set sail. He reached the whirlpool, from near which he had formerly picked up the rubies. This time, however, he determined to go to the exact spot whence the rubies were coming out. He went to the centre of the whirlpool, where he saw a gap reaching to the bottom of the ocean. He dived into it, leaving his boat to wheel round the whirlpool.

When he reached the bottom of the ocean, he saw there a beautiful palace. He went inside. In the central room of the palace there was the god Siva, with his eyes closed and absorbed apparently in intense meditation. A few feet above Siva’s head was a platform on which lay a young lady of exquisite beauty.

The prince went to the platform and saw that the head of the lady was separated from her body. Horrified at the sight, he did not know what to make of it. He saw a stream of blood trickling from the severed head, falling upon the matted head of Siva and running into the ocean in the form of rubies.

After a little, two small rods, one of silver and one of gold, which were lying near the head of the lady, attracted his eyes. As he took up the rods in his hands, the golden rod accidentally fell upon the head, on which the head immediately joined itself to the body, and the lady got up.

Astonished at the sight of a human being, the lady asked the prince who he was and how he had got there. After hearing the story of the prince’s adventures, the lady said, “Unhappy young man, depart instantly from this place, for when Siva finishes his meditations, he will turn you to ashes by a single glance of his eyes.”

The young man, however, would not go except in her company, as he was over head and ears in love with the beautiful lady. At last they both contrived to run away from the palace and, coming up to the surface of the ocean, they climbed into the boat near the centre of the whirlpool and sailed away towards land, having previously laden the vessel with a cargo of rubies.

The wonder of the prince’s mother at seeing the beautiful damsel may be well imagined. Early next morning the prince sent a basin full of big rubies to the king through a servant. The king was astonished beyond measure. His daughter, on getting the rubies, resolved on marrying the wonderful lad who had made a present of them to her.

Though the prince had a wife whom he had brought up from the depths of the ocean, he consented to have a second wife. They were accordingly married, and lived happily for years, begetting sons and daughters.

Next: The Ghost who was Afraid of being Bagged

(800 words)

Bidpai: The Crane and the Crab

This story is part of the Bidpai unit. Story source: The Tortoise and the Geese and Other Fables of Bidpai by Maude Barrows Dutton,  with illustrations by E. Boyd Smith, 1908.

The Crane and the Crab

THERE was a certain Crane who took up her abode on the borders of a lake There she lived for many years, catching and eating fish, and living a life of ease and luxury.

At length, when she had grown old and feeble, she could no longer fish. Then she looked back sorrowfully on the days of her youth and sighed, "Alas, why did I not make some provision for my old age when I was young and strong? Now I am too weak to fish and must therefore live upon my wits;" and she took her stand upon the margin of the lake, sighing and moaning.

From the bottom of the pond, a Crab heard her wails and swam to the surface.

"Why, what is the trouble, Friend Crane?" he asked when he saw her mournful expression.

"Trouble enough!" replied the Crane. "As you know, I have always lived on the banks of this lake and have caught a few fish every day for my dinner. But now I must soon die for in a few weeks there will be no more fish here to catch."

"Why, how can that be?" questioned the Crab, now swimming nearer.

"Listen to me," the Crane continued in the same sad voice. "Yesterday two fishermen passed this way, and one said to the other, 'Here is a pond full of fish. Let us throw our lines in here!' But the other fisherman urged him to go on to another lake not far distant. 'There we shall find even more fish than there are here,' he said. 'Let us therefore clear out that pond first, and then we can come back here.' Agreeing to this, they went off in search of the other lake. Now it is only a few weeks before they will return, and then I must surely die, for they will catch all the fish."

She had no sooner finished than the Crab sank quickly to the bottom to tell the bad news to the fish. Meantime the Crane stood on one leg and waited. Before long, she saw all the fish in the lake swimming rapidly towards her and flapping their fins in great excitement.

"We have just heard the news from the Crab," they gasped, "and our anxiety is so great that we have come to you for help, even though you have always been our enemy. We, as well as you, are now in danger of losing our lives if the fishermen return. Can you think of any escape, good Crane? If so, we beg you to tell us."

The Crane stood very still for a few moments with her head on one side. Finally she spoke. "I know of a pool not far from here," she began gravely, "where the water is so clear that you can easily count the grains of sand on the bottom. There you would find plenty of food and be safe from all fishermen, for that pool is enchanted. Now, if you will trust yourselves to me, I will carry three or four of you every day to that pond. I cannot carry more, for I am too old. This is the only escape for you."

The fish, who had listened very attentively to the words of the Crane, could not thank her enough for her kind offer. So it was agreed that that very morning she should begin to carry the fish to the other pond so that no time should be lost.

The Crane took the eager fish gently in her long bill and flew carefully away with them. But no sooner was she out of sight and hearing than she alighted upon the ground and ate the fish. So, day by day, without any labor, the Crane had plenty of food.

Finally the Crab became anxious to be moved to the enchanted pond. The Crane knew that the Crab was her natural enemy, so she thought that this would be a good chance to get rid of him, too.

"Clasp your claws around my neck and hold fast," said the Crane. Then she spread her wings and flew off. But as they came near to the Crane's feeding-place, the Crab caught sight of the white fish-bones lying on the ground. In an instant, he realized the cunning of the Crane.

"So this is the enchanted pond," he cried and, pressing his claws into the Crane's neck, he strangled her, and she fell to the ground dead.

Next: The Lean Cat and the Fat Cat

(700 words)

Bidpai: The Lion and the Hare

This story is part of the Bidpai unit. Story source: The Tortoise and the Geese and Other Fables of Bidpai by Maude Barrows Dutton, with illustrations by E. Boyd Smith, (1908).

The Lion and the Hare

IN the neighborhood of Bagdad there was a beautiful meadow which was the home of many wild animals. They would have lived very happily there had it not been for one mischief-loving Lion. Every day this Lion wandered about, killing many helpless creatures for the mere sport of the slaying.

To put an end to this, the animals gathered in a body, and going to the Lion, spoke to him in this wise: "King Lion, we are proud to have such a brave and valiant beast to rule over us. But we do not think that it is fitting for one of your rank to hunt for his own food. We therefore wait upon you with this request: henceforth do you remain quietly at home, and we your subjects will bring to your lair such food as it is fitting that a king should eat."

The Lion, who was greatly flattered, immediately accepted their offer. Thus every day the animals drew lots to decide who among their number should offer himself for the Lion's daily portion.

In due time, it came about that the lot fell upon the Hare. Now the Hare, when he learned that it was his turn to die, complained bitterly.

"Do you not see that we are still tormented by that Lion?" he asked the other animals. "Only leave it to me, and I will release you for all time from his tyranny."

The other animals were only too glad at these words and told the Hare to go his way. The Hare hid for some time in the bushes and then hurried to the Lion's lair.

By this time, the Lion was as angry as he was hungry. He was snarling and lashing his yellow tail on the ground. When he saw the Hare, he called out loudly, "Who are you, and what are my subjects doing? I have had no morsel of food today!"

The Hare besought him to calm his anger and listen to him. "The lot fell to-day," he began, "on another hare and myself. In good season we were on our way here to offer ourselves for your dinner, when a lion sprang out of the bushes and seized my companion. In vain I cried to him that we were destined for the King's table and, moreover, that no one was permitted to hunt in these royal woods except your Majesty. He paid no heed to my words save to retort, 'You do not know what you are saying. I am the only king here. That other Lion, to whom you all bow down, is a usurper.' Dumb with fright, I jumped into the nearest bush."

The Lion grew more and more indignant as he listened to the Hare's tale.

"If I could once find that lion," he roared, "I would soon teach him who is king of these woods."

"If your Majesty will trust me," answered the Hare, humbly, "I can take you to his hiding-place."

So the Hare and the Lion went out together. They crossed the woods and the meadow, and came to an ancient well, which was full of clear, deep water.

"Yonder is the home of your enemy," whispered the Hare, pointing to the well. "If you go near enough, you can see him. But," he added, "perhaps you had better wait until he comes out before you attack him."

These words only made the Lion more indignant. "He shall not live a moment after I have laid eyes upon him," he growled.

So the Hare and the Lion approached stealthily to the well. As they bent over the edge and looked down into the clear water, they saw themselves reflected there. The Lion, thinking that it was the other lion with the other hare, leaped into the well, never to come out again.

(600 words)

Panchatantra: The Mice That Ate Iron

This is one of the stories from the Panchatantra tradition that made its way into the poetry of La Fontaine via the fables of Bidpai, and as a result is is known all over Europe. Here is an illustration by Granville for La Fontaine's poem:

(Granville, illustration of La Fontaine)

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Panchatantra unit. Story source: The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder (1925).

The Mice That Ate Iron

In a certain town lived a merchant named Naduk, who lost his money and determined to travel abroad. For

The meanest of mankind is he
Who, having lost his money, can
Inhabit lands or towns where once
He spent it like a gentleman.

And again:

The neighbour gossips blame
His poverty as shame
Who long was wont to play
Among them, proud and gay.

In his house was an iron balance-beam inherited from his ancestors, and it weighed a thousand pals. This he put in pawn with Merchant Lakshman before he departed for foreign countries.

Now after he had long travelled wherever business led him through foreign lands, he returned to his native city and said to Merchant Lakshman: "Friend Lakshman, return my deposit, the balance-beam."

And Lakshman said: "Friend Naduk, your balance beam has been eaten by mice."

To this Naduk replied: "Lakshman, you are in no way to blame, if it has been eaten by mice. Such is life. Nothing in the universe has any permanence. However, I am going to the river for a bath. Please send your boy Money-God with me, to carry my bathing things."

Since Lakshman was conscience-stricken at his own theft, he said to his son Money-God: "My dear boy, let me introduce Uncle Naduk, who is going to the river to bathe. You must go with him and carry his bathing things."

Ah, there is too much truth in the saying:

There is no purely loving deed
Without a pinch of fear or greed
Or service of a selfish need.

And again:

Wherever there is fond attention
That does not seek a service pension,
Was there no timid apprehension?

So Lakshman's son took the bathing things and delightedly accompanied Naduk to the river. After Naduk had taken his bath, he thrust Lakshman's son Money-God into a mountain cave, blocked the entrance with a great rock, and returned to Lakshman's house.

And when Lakshman said: "Friend Naduk, tell me what has become of my son Money-God who went with you," Naduk answered: "My good Lakshman, a hawk carried him off from the river-bank."

"Oh, Naduk!" cried Lakshman. "You liar! How could a hawk possibly carry off a big boy like Money-God?"

"But, Lakshman," retorted Naduk, "the mice could eat a balance-beam made of iron. Give me my balance-beam, if you want your son."

Finally, they carried their dispute to the palace gate, where Lakshman cried in a piercing tone: "Help! Help! A ghastly deed! This Naduk person has carried off my son his name is Money-God."

Thereupon the magistrates said to Naduk: "Sir, restore the boy to Lakshman."

But Naduk pleaded: "What am I to do? Before my eyes a hawk carried him from the river-bank."

"Come, Naduk!" said they, "you are not telling the truth. How can a hawk carry off a fifteen-year-old boy?"

Then Naduk laughed outright and said: "Gentlemen, listen to my words.

Where mice eat balance-beams of iron
A thousand pals in weight,
A hawk might steal an elephant;
A boy is trifling freight."

"How was that?" they asked, and Naduk told them the story of the balance-beam. At this they laughed and caused the restoration of balance-beam and boy to the respective owners.

Next: The Sensible Enemy

(600 words)

Panchatantra: The Cat's Judgement

This story is being told by a crow who is a character in another story, but I have not included that other story here. If you want, you can find the framing story here and see how it leads into this story about the cat as judge: How the Birds Picked a King.

The story makes reference to the ancient sage Narada; you can read more about him at Wikipedia.

The French poet La Fontaine borrowed stories from the Indian tradition for his verse fables, and he tells a story very similar to this one — The Cat, the Weasel, and the Young Rabbit — although in La Fontaine's story it is a weasel who has chased a rabbit out of his home, as opposed to the rabbit-as-interloper that you will see in this story.

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Panchatantra unit. Story source: The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder (1925).

The Cat's Judgement

At one time I [a crow] was living in a certain tree. And beneath the same tree dwelt another bird, a partridge. So by virtue of our near neighbourhood there sprang up between us a firm friendship. Every day after taking our meals and airings we spent the evening hours in a round of amusements, such as repeating witty sayings, telling tales from the old story-books, solving puzzles and conundrums, or exchanging presents.

(partridge)

One day the partridge went foraging with other birds to a spot where the rice was ripe and abundant, and he did not return at nightfall. Of course, I missed him greatly and I thought: "Alas! Why does not my friend the partridge come home tonight? I am much afraid he is caught in some trap, or has even been killed." And many days passed while I grieved in this way.

Now one evening a rabbit named Speedy made himself at home in the partridge's old nest in the hole. Nor did I say him nay, for I despaired of seeing the partridge again.

However, one fine day the partridge, who had grown extremely plump from eating rice, remembered his old home and returned. This, indeed, is not to be wondered at.

No mortal has such joy, although
In heaven's fields he roam,
As in his city, in his land,
And in his humble home.

Now when he saw the rabbit in the hole, he said reproachfully: "Come now, rabbit, you have done a shabby thing in occupying my apartment. Please be gone, and lose no time about it."

"You fool!" said the rabbit, "don't you know that a dwelling is yours only while you occupy it?"

"Very well, then," said the partridge, "suppose we ask the neighbours. For, to give you a legal quotation,

For ownership of cisterns, tanks,
Wells, groves, and houses, too,
The neighbours' testimony goes -
Such is the legal view.

And again:

When house or field or well or grove
Or land is in dispute,
A neighbour's testimony is
Decisive of the suit."

Then the rabbit said: "You fool! Are you ignorant of the consecrated tradition which says:

Suppose beside your neighbour you
For ten long years abide,
What weight have learnèd arguments?
Eyewitnesses decide.

Fool! Fool! Did you never hear the dictum of the sage Narada?

The title to possession is
A ten years' habitation
With men. But with the birds and beasts
Mere present occupation.

"Hence, even supposing this apartment to be yours, still it was unoccupied when I moved in, and now it is mine."

"Well, well!" replied the partridge, "if you appeal to consecrated tradition, come with me, and we will consult the specialists. It shall be yours or mine according to their decision."

"Very well," said the other, and together they started off to have their suit decided. I, too, was at their heels, out of curiosity. "I will just see what comes of all this," I said to myself.

Now they had not travelled far when the rabbit asked the partridge: "My good fellow, who is to pass judgement on our disagreement?"

And the partridge answered: "On a sand-bank by the sacred Ganges — where there is sweet music from the dancing waves that inter-cross and break when the water is swept by nimble breezes — there dwells a tomcat whose name is Curd-Ear. He abides unshaken in his vow of penance and self-denial, and character has begotten compassion."

But when the rabbit spied the cat, his soul staggered with terror, and he said: "No, no! He is a seedy rascal. You must have heard the proverb:

Oh, never trust a rogue for all
His pharisaic puzzling:
At holy shrines some saints are found
Quite capable of guzzling."

Upon hearing this, Curd-Ear, whose manner of life had been assumed for the purpose of making an easy livelihood, desired to win their confidence. He therefore gazed straight at the sun, stood on his hind-legs, lifted his fore-paws, blinked his eyes, and in order to deceive them by pious sentiments, delivered the following moral discourse. "Alas! Alas! All is vanity. This fragile life passes in a moment. Union with the beloved is an empty dream. Family endearments are a conjurer's trick. But for the moral law, there would be no escape. Oh, listen to Scripture!

Each transitory day, O man,
To moral living give;
Else, like the blacksmith's bellows, you
Suck air, but do not live.

And furthermore:

Non-moral learning is a curse,
A dog's tail, nothing less,
That does not save from flies and fleas,
Nor cover nakedness.

And yet again:

A rotten ear among the wheat,
Among the birds a bat,
Is he who spurns the moral law;
The merest living gnat.

The flowers and fruit are better than the tree;
Better than curds is butter said to be;
Better than oil-cake, oil that trickles free;
Better than mortal man, morality.

The praise of constant steadfastness
Some wise professors sing;
But moral earnestness is swift,
Though many fetters cling.

Forget your prosings manifold;
The moral law is briefly told:
To help your neighbour — this is good;
To injure him is devilhood."

Having listened to this moral discourse, the rabbit said: "Friend partridge, here on the river-bank is the saint who expounds the moral law. Let us ask him."

But the partridge said: "After all, he is our natural enemy. Let us ask him from a distance."

So, together they began to question him: "O holy moralist, a dispute has arisen between us. Pray give judgement in accordance with the moral law. And whichever of us is found to speak falsely, him you may eat."

"Dear friends," said the cat, "I implore you not to speak thus. My soul abhors every act of cruelty, that street-sign pointing to hell. Surely, you know the Scripture:

The holy first commandment runs —
Not harsh, but kindly be —
And therefore lavish mercy on
Mosquito, louse, and flea.

Why speak of hurting innocence?
For he, with purpose fell
Who injures even noxious beasts,
Is plunged in ghastly hell.

"Nay, even those who slay living creatures in the act of sacrifice are befuddled, and their hermeneutic theology is at fault. And if you object to me the passage, 'One should sacrifice with goats,' in that passage the word 'goats' signifies grain that has aged seven years. 'Go, oats' - such is the true exegesis. And then, consider the passage:

If he who cuts down trees or cattle,
Or makes a bloody slime in battle,
Should thereby win to heaven - well,
Who (let me ask you) goes to hell?

"No, no. I shall eat nobody. However, I am somewhat old and do not readily distinguish your voices from a distance. So how am I to determine winner and loser? In view of this, pray draw near and make me acquainted with the case. Then I can pronounce a judgement that discriminates the essence of the matter, and thus causes no impediment in my march to the other world. You know the stanza:

If any man, from pride or greed,
Timidity or wrath,
Judge falsely, he has set his foot
On hell's down-sloping path.

And again:

Who wrongs a sheep, slays kinsmen five;
Who wrongs a cow, slays ten;
A hundred die for maidens wronged;
A thousand die for men.

"Therefore confide in me and speak clearly at the edge of my ear."

Why spin it out? That seedy rogue won their trust so fully that both drew near him. Then, of course, he seized them simultaneously, one with his paw, the other with the saw of his teeth. And when they were dead, he ate them both.

Next: The Brahman's Goat

(1300 words)

Panchatantra: The Loyal Mongoose

This Indian story about the mongoose has traveled all over the world; in Europe the story is usually told about a loyal dog. The folklorist Dan Ashliman has collected versions of the story from many different countries: Llewellyn and His Dog Gellert. You can find several versions of this story here in the UnTextbook, too: Gelert Stories.

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Panchatantra unit. Story source: The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder (1925).

(mongoose, photo by Eddy Van)

The Loyal Mongoose

There was once a Brahman named Godly in a certain town. His wife mothered a single son and a mongoose. And as she loved little ones, she cared for the mongoose also like a son, giving him milk from her breast, and salves, and baths, and so on.

But she did not trust him, for she thought: "A mongoose is a nasty kind of creature. He might hurt my boy." Yes, there is sense in the proverb:

A son will ever bring delight,
Though bent on folly, passion, spite,
Though shabby, naughty, and a fright.

One day she tucked her son in bed, took a water-jar, and said to her husband: "Now, Professor, I am going for water. You must protect the boy from the mongoose." But when she was gone, the Brahman went off somewhere himself to beg food, leaving the house empty.

While he was gone, a black snake issued from his hole and, as fate would have it, crawled toward the baby's cradle. But the mongoose, feeling him to be a natural enemy, and fearing for the life of his baby brother, fell upon the vicious serpent halfway, joined battle with him, tore him to bits, and tossed the pieces far and wide. Then, delighted with his own heroism, he ran, blood trickling from his mouth, to meet the mother; for he wished to show what he had done.

But when the mother saw him coming, saw his bloody mouth and his excitement, she feared that the villain must have eaten her baby boy, and without thinking twice, she angrily dropped the water-jar upon him, which killed him the moment that it struck.

There she left him without a second thought, and hurried home, where she found the baby safe and sound, and near the cradle a great black snake, torn to bits. Then, overwhelmed with sorrow because she had thoughtlessly killed her benefactor, her son, she beat her head and breast.

At this moment the Brahman came home with a dish of rice gruel, which he had got from someone in his begging tour, and saw his wife bitterly lamenting her son, the mongoose.

"Greedy! Greedy!" she cried. "Because you did not do as I told you, you must now taste the bitterness of a son's death, the fruit of the tree of your own wickedness.

(400 words)

Santal: The Monkey and the Girl

For more about sati, often spelled in English "suttee" (reflecting the Hindi pronunciation), see this Wikipedia article: Suttee. For more about the wife of the god Shiva, from whom the practice took its name, also see Wikipedia: Sati.

(sati / suttee ceremony)

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Santal Folklore unit. Story source: Folklore of the Santal Parganas by Cecil Henry Bompas (1909).

The Monkey and the Girl

Once upon a time, the boys and girls of a village used to watch the crops of but growing by a river, and there was a Hanuman monkey who wished to eat the crops, but they drove him away. So he made a plan: he used to make a garland of flowers and go with it to the field and, when he was driven away, he would leave the flowers behind, and the children were pleased with the flowers and ended by making friends with the monkey and did not drive him away.

(Hanuman Langur Monkey)

There was one of the young girls who was fascinated by the monkey and promised to marry him. Some of the other children told this in the village, and the girl’s father and mother came to hear of it and were angry and the father took some of the villagers and went and shot the monkey.

Then they decided not to throw away the body, but to burn it like the corpse of a man. So they made a pyre and put the body on it and set fire to it; just then the girl came and they told her to go away, but she said that she wished to see whether they really burned him like a man.

So she stood by, and when the pyre was in full blaze, she called out “Oh look, what is happening to the stars in the sky!”

At this, everyone looked up at the sky; then she took some sand which she had in the fold of her cloth and threw it into the air, and it fell into their eyes and blinded them.

While they were rubbing the sand out of their eyes, the girl leapt on to the pyre and was burned along with the monkey and died a sati. Her father and brothers were very angry at this and said that the girl must have had a monkey’s soul, and so she was fascinated by him — and so saying, they bathed and went home.

Next: Ramai and the Animals

(300 words)

Jataka: The Wise Physician

The story of Kisagotami is a famous Buddhist parable; you can read more about the story at Wikipedia.

The verses at the end are not part of the original jataka (although the jatakas do traditionally contain verses). Instead, Marie Shedlock added them to the story, as she explains in her note: "The following lines, ascribed to some of her Sisters in the Order and given in the Psalms (translated by Mrs. Rhys Davids), would apply to Kisagotami."

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

The Wise Physician

KISAGOTAMI is the name of a young girl whose marriage with the only son of a wealthy man was brought about in true fairy-tale fashion. She had one child, but when the beautiful boy could run alone, it died. The young girl in her love for it carried the dead child clasped to her bosom, and went from house to house of her pitying friends asking them to give her medicine for it.

But a Buddhist mendicant, thinking, "She does not understand," said to her: "My good girl, I myself have no such medicine as you ask for, but I think I know of one who has."

"Oh, tell me who that is!" said Kisagotami.

"The Buddha can give you medicine: go to him," was the answer.

She went to Gautama and, doing homage to him, said: "Lord and Master, do you know any medicine that will be good for my child?"

"Yes, I know of some," said the Teacher.

Now it was the custom for patients or their friends to provide the herbs which the doctors required, so she asked what herbs he would want.

"I want some mustard-seed," he said; and when the poor girl eagerly promised to bring some of so common a drug, he added: "You must get it from some house where no son, or husband, or parent, or slave has died."

"Very good," she said, and went to ask for it, still carrying her dead child with her.

The people said: "Here is mustard-seed, take it."

But when she asked, "In my friend’s house has any son died, or a husband, or a parent, or slave?" they answered: "Lady! what is this that thou sayest; the living are few, but the dead are many."

Then she went to other houses, but one said: "I have lost a son"; another, "We have lost our parents"; another, "I have lost my slave."

At last, not being able to find a single house where no one had died, her mind began to clear, and, summoning up resolution, she left the dead body of her child in a forest, and returning to the Buddha paid him homage.

He said to her: "Have you the mustard-seed?"

"My Lord," she replied, "I have not; the people tell me that the living are few, but the dead are many."

Then he talked to her on that essential part of his system—the impermanency of all things, till her doubts were cleared away, and, accepting her lot, she became a disciple and entered the first Path.

"Lo! from my heart the hidden shaft is gone,
The shaft that nestled there hath he removed;
And that consuming grief for my dear child,
Which poisoned all the life of me, is dead.
To-day my heart is healed, my yearning stayed,
Perfected the deliverance wrought in me."

(statue of Buddha in Ladakh, by J. Choe)

(500 words)

Jataka Tales: The Foolish, Timid Rabbit

This marvelous story is known in Europe with a chicken in the lead role, as opposed to a rabbit. For variations from around the world, see Dan Ashliman's collection here: The End of the World - The Sky is Falling.

[Notes by LKG]

---

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Jataka Tales by Ellen C. Babbitt, illustrated by Ellsworth Young (1912).

The Foolish, Timid Rabbit

[LIBRIVOX AUDIO]

ONCE upon a time, a Rabbit was asleep under a palm-tree. All at once he woke up, and thought: "What if the world should break up! What then would become of me?"

At that moment, some Monkeys dropped a cocoanut. It fell down on the ground just back of the Rabbit. Hearing the noise, the Rabbit said to himself: "The earth is all breaking up!" And he jumped up and ran just as fast as he could, without even looking back to see what made the noise.

Another Rabbit saw him running, and called after him, "What are you running so fast for?"

"Don't ask me!" he cried.

But the other Rabbit ran after him, begging to know what was the matter.

Then the first Rabbit said: "Don't you know? The earth is all breaking up!"

And on he ran, and the second Rabbit ran with him.

The next Rabbit they met ran with them when he heard that the earth was all breaking up. One Rabbit after another joined them, until there were hundreds of Rabbits running as fast as they could go.

They passed a Deer, calling out to him that the earth was all breaking up. The Deer then ran with them.

The Deer called to a Fox to come along because the earth was all breaking up.

On and on they ran, and an Elephant joined them.

At last the Lion saw the animals running, and heard their cry that the earth was all breaking up.

 

He thought there must be some mistake, so he ran to the foot of a hill in front of them and roared three times.

This stopped them, for they knew the voice of the King of Beasts, and they feared him.

"Why are you running so fast?" asked the Lion.

"Oh, King Lion," they answered him, "the earth is all breaking up!"

"Who saw it breaking up?" asked the Lion.

"I didn't," said the Elephant. "Ask the Fox--he told me about it."

"I didn't," said the Fox.

"The Rabbits told me about it," said the Deer.

One after another of the Rabbits said: "I did not see it, but another Rabbit told me about it."

At last the Lion came to the Rabbit who had first said the earth was all breaking up.

"Is it true that the earth is all breaking up?" the Lion asked.

"Yes, O Lion, it is," said the Rabbit. "I was asleep under a palm-tree. I woke up and thought, 'What would become of me if the earth should all break up?' At that very moment, I heard the sound of the earth breaking up, and I ran away."

"Then," said the Lion, "you and I will go back to the place where the earth began to break up, and see what is the matter."

So the Lion put the little Rabbit on his back, and away they went like the wind. The other animals waited for them at the foot of the hill.

The Rabbit told the Lion when they were near the place where he slept, and the Lion saw just where the Rabbit had been sleeping.

He saw, too, the cocoanut that had fallen to the ground near by. Then the Lion said to the Rabbit, "It must have been the sound of the cocoanut falling to the ground that you heard. You foolish Rabbit!"

And the Lion ran back to the other animals, and told them all about it.

If it had not been for the wise King of Beasts, they might be running still.

Next: The Banyan Deer

(600 words)

Indian Fairy Tales: The Charmed Ring

This story is part of the Indian Fairy Tales unit. Story source: Indian Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1912).

The Charmed Ring

LIBRIVOX AUDIO: The Charmed Ring

A MERCHANT started his son in life with three hundred rupees and bade him go to another country and try his luck in trade. The son took the money and departed.

He had not gone far before he came across some herdsmen quarrelling over a dog that some of them wished to kill. "Please do not kill the dog," pleaded the young and tender-hearted fellow; "I will give you one hundred rupees for it." Then and there, of course, the bargain was concluded, and the foolish fellow took the dog and continued his journey.

He next met with some people fighting about a cat. Some of them wanted to kill it, but others not. "Oh! please do not kill it," said he; "I will give you one hundred rupees for it." Of course they at once gave him the cat and took the money.

He went on till he reached a village, where some folk were quarrelling over a snake that had just been caught. Some of them wished to kill it, but others did not. "Please do not kill the snake," said he; "I will give you one hundred rupees." Of course the people agreed, and were highly delighted.

What a fool the fellow was! What would he do now that all his money was gone? What could he do except return to his father? Accordingly he went home.

"You fool! You scamp!" exclaimed his father when he had heard how his son had wasted all the money that had been given to him. "Go and live in the stables and repent of your folly. You shall never again enter my house."

So the young man went and lived in the stables. His bed was the grass spread for the cattle, and his companions were the dog, the cat, and the snake, which he had purchased so dearly.

These creatures got very fond of him, and would follow him about during the day, and sleep by him at night; the cat used to sleep at his feet, the dog at his head, and the snake over his body, with its head hanging on one side and its tail on the other.

One day the snake in course of conversation said to its master, "I am the son of Raja Indrasha. One day, when I had come out of the ground to drink the air, some people seized me, and would have slain me had you not most opportunely arrived to my rescue. I do not know how I shall ever be able to repay you for your great kindness to me. Would that you knew my father! How glad he would be to see his son's preserver!"

"Where does he live? I should like to see him, if possible," said the young man.

"Well said!" continued the snake. "Do you see yonder mountain? At the bottom of that mountain there is a sacred spring. If you will come with me and dive into that spring, we shall both reach my father's country. Oh! how glad he will be to see you! He will wish to reward you, too. But how can he do that? However, you may be pleased to accept something at his hand. If he asks you what you would like, you would, perhaps, do well to reply, 'The ring on your right hand, and the famous pot and spoon which you possess.' With these in your possession, you would never need anything, for the ring is such that a man has only to speak to it, and immediately a beautiful furnished mansion will be provided for him, while the pot and the spoon will supply him with all manner of the rarest and most delicious foods."

Attended by his three companions the man walked to the well and prepared to jump in, according to the snake's directions.

"O master!" exclaimed the cat and dog, when they saw what he was going to do. "What shall we do? Where shall we go?"

"Wait for me here," he replied. "I am not going far. I shall not be long away." On saying this, he dived into the water and was lost to sight.

"Now what shall we do?" said the dog to the cat.

"We must remain here," replied the cat, "as our master ordered. Do not be anxious about food. I will go to the people's houses and get plenty of food for both of us." And so the cat did, and they both lived very comfortably till their master came again and joined them.

The young man and the snake reached their destination in safety, and information of their arrival was sent to the Raja. His highness commanded his son and the stranger to appear before him. But the snake refused, saying that it could not go to its father till it was released from this stranger who had saved it from a most terrible death and whose slave it therefore was. Then the Raja went and embraced his son and, saluting the stranger, welcomed him to his dominions.

The young man stayed there a few days, during which he received the Raja's right-hand ring, and the pot and spoon, in recognition of His Highness's gratitude to him for having delivered his son. He then returned. On reaching the top of the spring he found his friends, the dog and the cat, waiting for him. They told one another all they had experienced since they had last seen each other, and were all very glad. Afterwards they walked together to the river side, where it was decided to try the powers of the charmed ring and pot and spoon.

The merchant's son spoke to the ring, and immediately a beautiful house and a lovely princess with golden hair appeared. He spoke to the pot and spoon, also, and the most delicious dishes of food were provided for them.

So he married the princess, and they lived very happily for several years, until one morning the princess, while arranging her toilet, put the loose hairs into a hollow bit of reed and threw them into the river that flowed along under the window. The reed floated on the water for many miles, and was at last picked up by the prince of that country, who curiously opened it and saw the golden hair. On finding it the prince rushed off to the palace, locked himself up in his room, and would not leave it. He had fallen desperately in love with the woman whose hair he had picked up, and refused to eat, or drink, or sleep, or move, till she was brought to him.

The king, his father, was in great distress about the matter, and did not know what to do. He feared lest his son should die and leave him without an heir. At last he determined to seek the counsel of his aunt who was an ogress. The old woman consented to help him, and bade him not to be anxious, as she felt certain that she would succeed in getting the beautiful woman for his son's wife.

She assumed the shape of a bee and went along buzzing, and buzzing, and buzzing. Her keen sense of smell soon brought her to the beautiful princess, to whom she appeared as an old hag, holding in one hand a stick by way of support.

She introduced herself to the beautiful princess and said, "I am your aunt whom you have never seen before because I left the country just after your birth." She also embraced and kissed the princess by way of adding force to her words.

The beautiful princess was thoroughly deceived. She returned the ogress's embrace, and invited her to come and stay in the house as long as she could, and treated her with such honour and attention, that the ogress thought to herself, "I shall soon accomplish my errand."

When she had been in the house three days, she began to talk of the charmed ring and advised her to keep it instead of her husband because the latter was constantly out shooting and on other such-like expeditions and might lose it. Accordingly the beautiful princess asked her husband for the ring, and he readily gave it to her.

The ogress waited another day before she asked to see the precious thing. Doubting nothing, the beautiful princess complied, when the ogress seized the ring and, reassuming the form of a bee, flew away with it to the palace where the prince was lying nearly on the point of death.

"Rise up. Be glad. Mourn no more," she said to him. "The woman for whom you yearn will appear at your summons. See, here is the charm, whereby you may bring her before you."

The prince was almost mad with joy when he heard these words, and was so desirous of seeing the beautiful princess that he immediately spoke to the ring, and the house with its fair occupant descended in the midst of the palace garden. He at once entered the building, and telling the beautiful princess of his intense love, entreated her to be his wife. Seeing no escape from the difficulty, she consented on the condition that he would wait one month for her.

Meanwhile the merchant's son had returned from hunting and was terribly distressed not to find his house and wife. There was the place only, just as he knew it before he had tried the charmed ring, which Raja Indrasha had given him. He sat down and determined to put an end to himself.

Presently the cat and dog came up. They had gone away and hidden themselves, when they saw the house and everything disappear. "O master!?' they said, "stay your hand. Your trial is great, but it can be remedied. Give us one month, and we will go and try to recover your wife and house."

"Go," said he, "and may the great God aid your efforts. Bring back my wife, and I shall live."

So the cat and dog started off at a run, and did not stop till they reached the place whither their mistress and the house had been taken.

Next: The Charmed Ring (continued)

(1700 words)

Indian Fairy Tales: The Charmed Ring (cont.)

This story is part of the Indian Fairy Tales unit. Story source: Indian Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1912).

The Charmed Ring, continued

(see previous page for audio)

"We may have some difficulty here," said the cat. "Look, the king has taken our master's wife and house for himself. You stay here. I will go to the house and try to see her."

So the dog sat down, and the cat climbed up to the window of the room, wherein the beautiful princess was sitting, and entered. The princess recognised the cat and informed it of all that had happened to her since she had left them.

"But is there no way of escape from the hands of these people?" she asked.

"Yes," replied the cat, "if you can tell me where the charmed ring is."

"The ring is in the stomach of the ogress," she said.

"All right," said the cat, "I will recover it. If we once get it, everything is ours." Then the cat descended the wall of the house, and went and laid down by a rat's hole and pretended she was dead.

Now at that time a great wedding chanced to be going on among the rat community of that place, and all the rats of the neighbourhood were assembled in that one particular mine by which the cat had lain down. The eldest son of the king of the rats was about to be married. The cat got to know of this, and at once conceived the idea of seizing the bridegroom and making him render the necessary help. Consequently, when the procession poured forth from the hole squealing and jumping in honour of the occasion, it immediately spotted the bridegroom and pounced down on him.

"Oh! let me go, let me go," cried the terrified rat.

"Oh! let him go," squealed all the company. "It is his wedding day."

"No, no," replied the cat. "Not unless you do something for me. Listen. The ogress, who lives in that house with the prince and his wife, has swallowed a ring which I very much want. If you will procure it for me, I will allow the rat to depart unharmed. If you do not, then your prince dies under my feet."

"Very well, we agree," said they all. "Nay, if we do not get the ring for you, devour us all."

This was rather a bold offer. However, they accomplished the thing. At midnight, when the ogress was sound asleep, one of the rats went to her bedside, climbed up on her face, and, inserted its tail into her throat; whereupon the ogress coughed violently, and the ring came out and rolled on to the floor. The rat immediately seized the precious thing and ran off with it to its king, who was very glad, and went at once to the cat and released its son.

As soon as the cat received the ring, she started back with the dog to go and tell their master the good tidings. All seemed safe now. They had only to give the ring to him, and he would speak to it, and the house and beautiful princess would again be with them, and everything would go on as happily as before. "How glad master will be!" they thought, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

Now, on the way they had to cross a stream. The dog swam, and the cat sat on its back. Now the dog was jealous of the cat, so he asked for the ring, and threatened to throw the cat into the water if it did not give it up; whereupon the cat gave up the ring. Sorry moment, for the dog at once dropped it, and a fish swallowed it.

"Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?" said the dog.

"What is done is done," replied the cat. "We must try to recover it, and if we do not succeed we had better drown ourselves in this stream. I have a plan. You go and kill a small lamb, and bring it here to me."

"All right," said the dog, and at once ran off. He soon came back with a dead lamb, and gave it to the cat. The cat got inside the lamb and lay down, telling the dog to go away a little distance and keep quiet.

Not long after this a nadhar, a bird whose look can break the bones of a fish, came and hovered over the lamb, and eventually pounced down on it to carry it away. On this the cat came out and jumped on to the bird, and threatened to kill it if it did not recover the lost ring. This was most readily promised by the nadhar, who immediately flew off to the king of the fishes, and ordered it to make inquiries and to restore the ring. The king of the fishes did so, and the ring was found and carried back to the cat.

"Come along now; I have got the ring," said the cat to the dog.

"No, I will not," said the dog, "unless you let me have the ring. I can carry it as well as you. Let me have it or I will kill you." So the cat was obliged to give up the ring. The careless dog very soon dropped it again. This time it was picked up and carried off by a kite.

"See, see, there it goes — away to that big tree," the cat exclaimed.

"Oh! oh! what have I done?" cried the dog.

"You foolish thing, I knew it would be so," said the cat. "But stop your barking, or you will frighten away the bird to some place where we shall not be able to trace it."

The cat waited till it was quite dark, and then climbed the tree, killed the kite, and recovered the ring. "Come along," it said to the dog when it reached the ground. "We must make haste now. We have been delayed. Our master will die from grief and suspense. Come on."

The dog, now thoroughly ashamed of itself, begged the cat's pardon for all the trouble it had given. It was afraid to ask for the ring the third time, so they both reached their sorrowing master in safety and gave him the precious charm.

In a moment his sorrow was turned into joy. He spoke to the ring, and his beautiful wife and house reappeared, and he and everybody were as happy as ever they could be.

Next: The Talkative Tortoise

(1100 words)