earth may be moving next. Sandy," said he to his Prime Minister, who was
a Fox, "go and fetch that mountain to me."

So Sandy the Prime Minister went to seek the mountain that was eating
the King's park. Next morning, back he came, leading the Camel by his
nose-string.

When the Camel saw how little the King of the Mice seemed to be, he
began to grunt and gurgle, and sniffed with his funny mouth. You know a
Camel has a mouth which looks as though it had two slits in it, of the
shape of a cross; and when he wants to show his contempt for anything he
pokes out his mouth like a four-leaved clover, and makes you feel very
small. "Hullo," said the Camel, "is this your King? I thought it was the
Lion who sent for me. I would never have come for a speck like this."
Then he turned round, and walked out of court, and began to eat
everything he came across.

The King was very angry, but what could he do? He had to swallow the
insult, and make the best of it. However, he determined to watch his
chance of revenge; and soon he got it. For after a few days, the Camel's
nose-string became entangled in a creeper, and he could not get away, do
what he would. Then Sandy the Fox came by, and saw him in this plight.
Imagine his joy to see his enemy at his mercy! Off he ran, and soon
brought the King to that place. Then the King said--

"O Camel, you despised my words, and see the result. Your sin has found
you out."

"O mighty King," said the Camel, quite humble now, "indeed I confess my
fault, and I pray you to forgive me. If you will only save me, I will be
your faithful servant."

The Mouse King was not of a spiteful nature, and as soon as he heard the
Camel ask forgiveness his heart grew soft. He climbed up the creeper,
and gnawed through the Camel's nose-string, and set the Camel free.

The Camel, I am glad to say, kept his word; and he became a servant of
the Mouse King. He was so big and strong that he could carry loads which
would have needed thousands of Mice to carry; and by his help the King
made very strong walls and forts around his city, so that he had no fear
of enemies. When there was nothing else to do, the Camel even blacked
the Mouse King's boots, rather than be idle.

So things went on for a long time. But one day some Woodcutters came
into the forest. These men lived all together in a village of their own,
and they used to build houses of wood. When anybody wanted a house, he
told the Woodcutters, and they used to leave their village and go into
the woods. Then they cut down the trees, and sawed them into planks, and
shaped them into the parts of a house. When the house was finished,
they put numbers on all the parts, and took it to pieces again, and put
it on a raft; and the raft floated down the great river to the place
where the house had been ordered. Then they put up the house in a very
short time, because you see it was all ready made, and only had to be
put together.

These Woodcutters, then, came and settled for a while near the borders
of Mouseland; and in the course of their wanderings they found the stray
Camel. They promptly seized him, and carried him off.

When Sandy told the King what had happened, the Mouse King was very
angry indeed. He sent a detachment of his bodyguard, armed cap-à-pie, to
fetch the Woodcutters into his presence. The bodyguard captured two of
them, and led them back bound. Then the King demanded his Camel.

"Pooh, silly little Mouse," said the Woodcutters. "If you want it, you
must fetch it."

"I will," said the King of the Mice. "Tell your chief, whoever he is,
that I hereby declare war upon him."

The Woodcutters laughed, and went away.

Then the Mouse King gathered together all his subjects, millions and
millions of sturdy Mice; and they set out for the village of the
Woodcutters. The Woodcutters had by this time finished their job, and
they had been paid a good round sum of money for it; and the money was
carefully put away, with all the other money they had, in a treasury.

Now the Mice were not able to meet big Woodcutters in the field, but
they had their own tactics. Night and day they burrowed under the earth.
First they made for the treasury; and though the treasury had stone
walls, they got up easily through the floor, where no danger was
expected, and one by one they carried off every coin from the treasury,
until it was as bare as the palm of your hand. Then they got underneath
all the houses of the village; and thousands and millions of Mice were
busy all day and all night in carrying out little baskets of earth from
beneath the foundations. Thus it happened, that very soon the
Woodcutters' village was standing on a thin shell of earth, and
underneath it was a great hole.

Now was the time to strike the blow. The layer of earth was so thin,
that the least shock would destroy it. So the Mouse King wrote a letter
to the Woodcutter Chief, asking once more for his Camel, and in the
letter he hid a little packet of snuff. He put the letter in the post,
and waited.

Next day, as the Woodcutter Chief was sitting in his house, the postman
came to the door--Rat-tat. The footman brought in a letter, and the
Woodcutter Chief opened it. He read it through, and laughed. Then he
waved it in the air, and said, "Let them come." As he waved the letter
in the air, all the snuff fell out of it upon his nose. The Woodcutter
gave a terrific sneeze, Tishoo! Tishoo! The thin shell of earth could
not stand the shock; it trembled, and crumbled, and fell in, and all the
Woodcutters fell in too, and all their village, and nothing was left of
them but a big hole.

Then the Mouse King and his army went back to Mouseland; and though they
never got the old Camel back (for he was swallowed up along with the
Woodcutters), yet no one ever molested Mouseland again.

The Valiant Blackbird

A BLACKBIRD and his mate lived together on a tree. The Blackbird used to
sing very sweetly, and one day the King heard him in passing by, and
sent a Fowler to catch him. But the Fowler made a mistake; he did not
catch Mr. Blackbird, who sang so sweetly, but Mrs. Blackbird, who could
hardly sing at all. However, he did not know the difference, to look at
her, nor did the King when he got the bird; but a cage was made for Mrs.
Blackbird, and there she was kept imprisoned.

When Mr. Blackbird heard that his dear spouse was stolen, he was very
angry indeed. He determined to get her back, by hook or by crook. So he
got a long sharp thorn, and tied it at his waist by a thread; and on his
head he put the half of a walnut-shell for a helmet, and the skin of a
dead frog served for body-armour. Then he made a little kettle-drum out
of the other half of the walnut-shell; and he beat his drum, and
proclaimed war upon the King.

As he walked along the road, beating his drum, he met a Cat.

"Whither away, Mr. Blackbird?" said the Cat.

"To fight against the King," said Mr. Blackbird.

"All right," said the Cat, "I'll come with you: he drowned my kitten."

"Jump into my ear, then," says Mr. Blackbird. The Cat jumped into the
Blackbird's ear, and curled up, and went to sleep: and the Blackbird
marched along, beating his drum.

Some way further on, he met some Ants.

"Whither away, Mr. Blackbird?" said the Ants.

"To fight against the King," said Mr. Blackbird.

"All right," said the Ants, "we'll come too; he poured hot water down
our hole."

"Jump into my ear," said Mr. Blackbird. In they jumped, and away went
Blackbird, beating upon his drum.

Next he met a Rope and a Club. They asked him, whither away? and when
they heard that he was going to fight against the King, they jumped into
his ear also, and away he went.

Not far from the King's palace, Blackbird had to cross over a River.

"Whither away, friend Blackbird?" asked the River.

Quoth the Blackbird, "To fight against the King."

"Then I'll come with you," said the River.

"Jump into my ear," says the Blackbird.

Blackbird's ears were pretty full by this time, but he found room
somewhere for the River, and away he went.

Blackbird marched along until he came to the palace of the King. He
knocked at the door, thump, thump.

"Who's there?" said the Porter.

"General Blackbird, come to make war upon the King, and get back his
wife."

The Porter laughed so at the sight of General Blackbird, with his thorn,
and his frogskin, and his drum, that he nearly fell off his chair. Then
he escorted Blackbird into the King's presence.

"What do you want?" said the King.

"I want my wife," said the Blackbird, beating upon his drum,
rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub.

"You shan't have her," said the King.

"Then," said the Blackbird, "you must take the consequences."
Rub-a-dub-dub went the drum.

"Seize this insolent bird," said the King, "and shut him up in the
henhouse. I don't think there will be much left of him in the morning."

The servants shut up Blackbird in the henhouse. When all the world was
asleep, Blackbird said--

          "Come out, Pussy, from my ear,
          There are fowls in plenty here;
          Scratch them, make their feathers fly,
          Wring their necks until they die."

Out came Pussy-cat in an instant. What a confusion there was in the
henhouse. Cluck-cluck-cluck went the hens, flying all over the place;
but no use: Pussy got them all, and scratched out their feathers, and
wrung their necks. Then she went back into Blackbird's ear, and
Blackbird went to sleep.

When morning came, the King said to his men, "Go, fetch the carcass of
that insolent bird, and give the Chickens an extra bushel of corn." But
when they entered the henhouse, Blackbird was singing away merrily on
the roost, and all the fowls lay around in heaps with their necks wrung.

They told the King, and an angry King was he. "To-night," said he, "you
must shut up Blackbird in the stable." So Blackbird was shut up in the
stable, among the wild Horses.

At midnight, when all the world was asleep, Blackbird said--

          "Come out, Rope, and come out, Stick,
          Tie the Horses lest they kick;
          Beat the Horses on the head,
          Beat them till they fall down dead."

Out came Club and Rope from Blackbird's ear; the Rope tied the horses,
and the Club beat them, till they died. Then the Rope and the Club went
back into the Blackbird's ear, and Blackbird went to sleep.

Next morning the King said--

"No doubt my wild Horses have settled the business of that Blackbird
once for all. Just go and fetch out his corpse."

The servants went to the wild Horses' stable. There was Blackbird,
sitting on the manger, and drumming away on his walnut-shell; and all
round lay the dead bodies of the Horses, beaten to death.

If the King was angry before, he was furious now. His horses had cost a
great deal of money; and to be tricked by a Blackbird is a poor joke.

"All right," said the King, "I'll make sure work of it to-night. He
shall be put with the Elephants."

When night came the Blackbird was shut up in the Elephants' shed. No
sooner was all the world quiet, than Blackbird began to sing--

          "Come from out my ear, you Ants,
          Come and sting the Elephants;
          Sting their trunk, and sting their head,
          Sting them till they fall down dead."

Out came a swarm of Ants from the Blackbird's ear. They crawled up
inside the Elephants' trunks, they burrowed into the Elephants' brains,
and stung them so sharply that the Elephants all went mad, and died.

Next morning, as before, the King sent for the Blackbird's carcass; and,
instead of finding his carcass, the servants found the Blackbird
rub-a-dub-dubbing on his drum, and the dead Elephants piled all round
him.

This time the King was fairly desperate. "I can't think how he does it,"
said he, "but I must find out. Tie him to-night to my bed, and we'll
see."

So that night Blackbird was tied to the King's bed. In the middle of the
night, the King (who had purposely kept awake) heard him sing--

          "Come out, River, from my ear,
          Flow about the bedroom here;
          Pour yourself upon the bed,
          Drown the King till he is dead."

Out came the River, pour-pour-pouring out of the Blackbird's ear. It
flooded the room, it floated the King's bed, the King began to get wet.

"In Heaven's name, General Blackbird," said the King, "take your wife,
and begone."

          So Blackbird received his wife again, and they
          lived happily ever after.

The Goat and the Hog

A GOAT and a Hog were great friends, and for a long time they lived
together. But they were poor, and one day the Goat said to the Hog--

"Good-bye, friend Hog! I am going to seek my fortune."

"Ugh! ugh! ugh!" said the Hog. It was kindly meant, for that was all the
ignorant Hog could say. He intended to bid good-bye to his friend, and
to wish him good luck.

The Goat trotted along till he came to the nearest town. He found a
grain-shop with nobody in it; so in went our Goat, and ate his fill of
the Grain, and whatever he could find. Then he went into the inner room,
and sat down.

By-and-by the shopman came in; his little girl was with him, and the
little girl began to cry for sugar.

"Go and get some out of the cupboard," said the shopman.

The little girl ran into the inner room to get the sugar, but the Goat
was there. And when the Goat saw the little girl, he cried out, in a
solemn and loud voice--

          "Little girl, go run, go run,
          Or your life is nearly done!
          And my crumpled horns I'll stick
          Through your little body quick!"

The little girl ran out shrieking. "What is it, my dear?" said her
father.

"A demon, father!" she said; "save me from his crumpled horn."

What a terrible thing to happen in a quiet household! The poor man did
not know what to do. So he sent for all his relations, and they advised
him to try what the parson could do.

So the Parson was sent for, and the Clerk, and the Sexton, with bell,
book, and candle. They lit the candle, and opened the book (I think it
was a Latin Grammar, which they judged would be enough to scare any
demon), and rang the bell; and then the Parson, with his heart in his
boots, advanced into the room.

Instantly a horrid groan burst upon his ears (or so he thought), and a
deep voice said--

          "Parson, fly! or I will poke
            This my crumpled horn into you!
          You'll admit it is no joke
            When you feel its point go through you!
          Sexton, dig his grave, and then
          Let the Clerk reply, Amen!"

The Parson dropt his Latin Grammar, and ran away, nor did he stop until
he was safe in his own church.

At this the Shopman went down on his knees, and put his hands together,
and said--

"O most respectable Demon! whoever you are, I pray you do me no harm;
and I will worship you, and offer you anything you may desire."

Then the Goat came majestically out, walking upon his hind legs, with
his grey beard flowing from his chin, and he said--

"Put wreaths and jewels about my neck, and on each of my horns, and
round my paws and my tail, and give me sweetmeats to eat, and I will do
you no harm."

The Shopman made haste to do all this; he wreathed the Goat with
flowers, and put all his wife's jewels upon the horns and paws, and all
the jewels he could borrow from his neighbours.

The Goat went home, and showed all this magnificence to his friend the
Hog. The Hog winked his greedy little eyes, and somehow made his friend
understand that he would like some too. Then the Goat told him how he
got the things, and showed him the way to the place.

So the Hog went to the same shop, and found it empty. The Shopman and
his little girl had gone out to tell all the town what adventures they
had passed through. The Hog grubbed up all he could find to eat, and
then went and sat in the inner room.

Soon the Shopman and his little girl came back. The little girl ran
inside to take off her little hat, and what does she see but a big black
Hog sitting there! The Hog remembered his lesson, and wanted to say some
terrible thing as the Goat had done; but all he could get out was--

"Ugh! ugh! ugh!"

This did not frighten the little girl at all. She ran out to her father,
saying--

"O papa! there is a big black Hog inside!"

The Shopman got out his knife, and whetted it on the grindstone, and
then he went into the room.

"Ugh! ugh! ugh!" said the Hog.

          The Shopman said nothing, but stuck his knife into
          the Hog. Then there was a squealing and squalling,
          if you like! But in two minutes the Hog was dead,
          and in two hours he was skinned and cut up, and by
          nightfall, the Shopman and his little girl, and all
          their friends, were sitting round a delicious
          leg of roast pork, and the Sexton rang
          the bell for dinner, and the Parson
          said grace, and the Clerk
          said Amen.

The Parrot and the Parson

THERE was once a Banker who taught his Parrot the speech of men. The
Parrot made such progress that he was soon able to take part in any
conversation, and he astonished every one by his intelligence.

One day a Parson came by the Parrot.

"My respects to your Reverence," said the Parrot.

The Parson looked all round him, he looked down at his feet, he looked
up into the sky; but no one could he see who might have spoken to him.
He could not make it out; he thought it must have been a ghost. Then the
Parrot spoke again. "It was I who saluted you," said he. The Parrot was
close to the Parson's ear, and now at length the Parson saw him. The
Parrot went on--

"O reverend Sir, you teach men how to get free from the chains of their
sins. May it please you to tell me how to escape from this cage?"

This was a practical question, but the Parson's advice was not usually
asked on such points. He did not know what to say.

"I fear I can be of no use to you," said he, "but I will consult my
Solicitor."

The Parson went to see his Solicitor, and paid him six and eightpence.
He might have bought the Parrot, cage and all, for half that; but, as I
said, he was not a practical man. When he told the Solicitor what
business he came about, the Solicitor said nothing at all, but fell down
in a faint.

"What can I have said to make him faint?" the Parson thought. "Perhaps
it is the hot weather." He poured water over the Solicitor's face, and
by-and-by the Solicitor came to.

The Parson was much distressed at having thrown away six and eightpence;
but he knew it would be of no use asking the Solicitor to give any of it
back, so he did not try. He went back to the Parrot and said--

"Dearly beloved bird, I much regret having no information to give you
which may be of use. The fact is, no sooner did I put your question to
my worthy Solicitor, than he fell down in a dead faint."

"Oh," said the Parrot, "many thanks, Parson."

The Parson went away to the parish meeting. When he had gone, the Parrot
stretched himself out on the bottom of his cage, and shut his eyes, and
cocked up his feet in the air.

By-and-by the Banker came in, and saw his Parrot lying on his back, with
his feet pointing to the sky.

"Poor Poll," said he, "you're dead, my pretty Poll."

          He opened the door of the cage, and took
          out the bird, and laid him on the
          ground. Immediately the Parrot
          opened his wings and
          flew away.

The Lion and the Hare

ONCE upon a time there was a Lion, who used daily to devour one of the
beasts of the forest. They had to come up one after another, when called
for. At last it came to the Hare's turn to be eaten, and he did not want
to be eaten at all. He lingered and he dallied, and when at last he
plucked up courage to come, he was very late. The Lion, when he saw the
Hare coming, bounded towards him. The Hare said--

"Uncle Lion, I know I am late, and you have cause to be angry. But
really it is not my fault. There is another Lion in our part of the
jungle, and he says that he is master, and you are nobody. In fact, when
I showed him that I positively would come to you he was very angry."

"Ha!" said the Lion, roaring; "who says he is my master? Show him to me.
I'll teach him who rules the forest."

"Come along then," said the Hare.

They went a long way, until they came to a well. The Hare looked down
into the well. "He was here just now," said he.

The Lion looked in, and at the bottom he saw what looked like a Lion in
the water. He shook his mane--the other Lion shook his mane. He
roared--the echo of a roar came up from the bottom of the well. "Let me
get at him!" roared the Lion. In he jumped--splash! Nothing more was
ever heard of that Lion, and the beasts of the forest were glad to be
left in peace. They put their heads together, and composed a verse of
poetry, which is always sung in that forest on Sundays:--

          "The Hare is small, but by his wit
          He now has got the best of it;
          By folly down the Lion fell,
          And lost his life within the well."

The Monkey's Bargains

ONCE upon a time an old Woman was cooking, and she ran short of fuel.
She was so anxious to keep up her fire, that she tore out the hairs of
her head, and threw them upon the flame instead of fuel.

A Monkey came capering by, and saw the old Woman at her fire.

"Old Woman," said the Monkey, "why are you burning your hair? Do you
want to be bald?"

"O Monkey!" quoth the old Woman, "I have no fuel, and my fire will go
out."

"Shall I get you some fuel, mother?" said the Monkey.

"That's like your kind heart," said the old Woman. "Do get me some fuel,
and receive an old Woman's blessing."

The Monkey scampered away to the woods, and brought back a large bundle
of sticks. The old Woman piled the dry sticks on the fire, and made a
fine blaze. She put on her cooking-plank, and made four cakes.

All this while, the Monkey sat on his tail, and watched her. But when
the cakes were done, and gave forth a delightful odour, the Monkey got
up on his hind legs, and began dancing and cutting all manner of capers
round about the cakes.

"O Monkey," said the old Woman, "why do you caper and dance around my
cakes?"

"I gave you fuel," said the Monkey, "and won't you give me a cake?"

It seems to me that she might have thought of that without being asked;
but she did not, so the Monkey had to ask for it.

Well, the old Woman gave the Monkey one cake, and the Monkey took his
cake in high glee, and capered away.

On the way, he passed by the house of a Potter; and at the door of the
Potter's house sat the Potter's son, crying his eyes out.

"What is the matter, little boy?" asked the Monkey.

"I am very hungry," whimpered the Potter's son, "and I have nothing to
eat."

"Will a cake be of any use?" asked the kind Monkey.

The Potter's little Boy stretched out his hand, and into his hand the
Monkey put his cake. Then the little Boy stopped crying, and ate the
cake, but he forgot to say thank you. Perhaps he had never been taught
manners, but the Monkey felt sad, because that was not the kind of thing
he was used to.

The Potter's little Boy then went into the shop, and brought out four
little earthenware pots, and began to play with them. He took no more
notice of the Monkey, now that he had eaten his cake; but when the
Monkey saw these earthenware pots, he began to dance and cut capers
round them, like mad.

"Why are you dancing round my pots?" asked the little Boy. "Are you
going to break them, Monkey?"

The Monkey replied, capering about all the while--

          "One old Woman, in a fix,
          Made me go and gather sticks;
          Then she gave me, for the sake
          Of the fuel, one sweet cake.
          That sweet cake to you I gave:
          In return, one pot I crave."

The Potter's little Boy was very much afraid of this dancing and singing
Monkey, and perhaps he was a little bit ashamed of his ingratitude; so
he gave the Monkey one of his four pots.

Away capered the Monkey, in high glee, carrying his pot. By-and-by he
came to a place, where was a Cowherd's wife making curds in a mortar.

"What an odd thing to do, Mrs. Cowherd," said the Monkey. "Have you a
fancy for making curds in a mortar?"

"No," said the Cowherd's wife, "but I have nothing better to make my
curds in."

"Here's a pot which will do better than a mortar to make curds in," said
the Monkey, offering the pot which he had received from the little Boy.

"Thank you, kind Mr. Monkey," said the Cowherd's wife. She took the pot
and made curds in it. She took out the curds from the pot, and put them
ready for eating, and some butter beside them. The Monkey watched her,
sitting upon his tail.

Then the Monkey got up off his tail, and began to dance and cut capers
round the curds and the butter.

"Why are you dancing about my butter?" said the Cowherd's wife. "Do you
want to spoil it?"

Then the Monkey began to sing, as he capered about--

          "One old Woman, in a fix,
          Made me go and gather sticks;
          Then she gave me, for the sake
          Of the fuel, one sweet cake.
          Potter's son ate that, and he
          Gave a pot instead to me.
          Since to you I gave that pot,
          Give me butter, will you not?"

The wife of the Cowherd was much pleased with this song, as she was fond
of music. "If your kindness," said she, "had not already earned the
butter, your pretty song would be worth it." Then she gave him a good
lump of butter.

Off went the Monkey in high glee, capering along with the lump of butter
wrapped up in a leaf. As he went, he came to another place, where a
Cowherd was grazing his kine. The Cowherd was sitting down at that
moment, and enjoying his dinner, which consisted of a hunk of dry bread.

"Why do you eat dry bread, Mr. Cowherd?" asked the Monkey. "Are you
fasting?"

"I am eating dry bread," quoth the Cowherd, "because I have nothing to
eat with it."

"What do you say to this?" said the Monkey, cutting a caper, and
offering to the Cowherd his lump of butter, wrapped up in a leaf.

"Ah," said the Cowherd, "prime." Not another word said he, but spread
the butter upon his dry bread, and set to, with much relish.

The Monkey sat on his tail, and watched the Cowherd eating his meal.
When the meal was eaten, up jumped the Monkey, and began capering and
dancing, hopping and skipping, round and round the herd of kine.

"Ah," said the Bumpkin, "what are you a-doing that for?" The Bumpkin was
so ignorant that he thought the Monkey wanted to bewitch his cattle, and
dry up all their milk.

The Monkey went on with his skips and capers, and as he capered, he sang
this ditty:--

          "One old Woman, in a fix,
          Made me go and get her sticks;
          Then she gave me, for the sake
          Of the fuel, one sweet cake.
          Potter's son the sweet cake got,
          Gave me, in return, one pot.
          Cow-wife had the pot, and she
          Butter gave instead to me.
          This I gave to you just now:
          Will you give me, please, one cow?"

"Ah," said the Bumpkin, "'spose I must." He was afraid of the Monkey's
spells, and so he gave him a cow.

Away capered the Monkey, in high glee, leading his cow by a string. "I
am indeed getting on in the world," said he.

By-and-by, what should he see coming along the road, but the King
himself. The King was fastened to the shafts of a cart, which he was
slowly dragging along; and jogging by the side of this cart was an ox;
and upon the ox sat the Queen. This King had very simple tastes, and so
had the Queen.

"O King," said the Monkey, "why are you dragging your cart with your own
royal hands?"

"This is the reason, O Monkey!" said the King. "My ox died in the
forest, and I drag the cart because this cart will not drag itself."

"Come, sire," said the Monkey, "I don't like to see a King doing
draught-work. Take this cow of mine, and welcome."

"Thank you, good and faithful Monkey," said the King. He mopped his
brow, and yoked in the cow.

The Monkey began to dance and caper, jump and skip, round the Queen.

"What is the matter, worthy Monkey?" asked the King.

The Monkey began his ditty:--

          "One old Woman, in a fix,
          Made me go and gather sticks;
          Then she gave me, for the sake
          Of the fuel, one sweet cake.
          Potter's son the sweet cake got,
          Gave me in its place, one pot.
          Cow-wife had the pot, and she
          Butter gave instead to me.
          Bumpkin ate the butter, then
          Paid me with this cow again.
          Keep the cow, but don't be mean:
          All I ask for, is the Queen."

This seemed reasonable enough, so the King gave his Queen to the Monkey.

Away went the Monkey, capering along, and the Queen walked after (you
see the King could not part with his ox as well as the Queen).

By-and-by they came to a Man sewing a button on to his shirt.

"Why, Man," said the Monkey, "why do you sew on your own buttons?"

"Because my wife is dead," said the Man.

"Here is a nice wife for you," said the Monkey. He gave the Queen to the
Man. The Monkey then began his capers again, but all he could find to
caper about, was a drum.

"You may have that drum, if you like," said the Man. "I only kept it
because its voice reminded me of my wife, and now I have another."

"Thank you, thank you!" said the Monkey. "Now I am rich indeed!" Then he
began to beat upon the drum, and sang:--

          "One old Woman, in a fix,
          Made me go and gather sticks;
          Then she gave me, for the sake
          Of the fuel, one sweet cake.
          Potter's son the sweet cake got,
          Gave me in its place, one pot.
          Cow-wife had the pot, and she
          Butter gave instead to me.
          Bumpkin ate the butter, then
          Gave a cow to me again.
          King took cow, but was not mean,
          For he paid me with a Queen.
          Now I have a drum, that's worth
          More than any drum on earth.
          You are worth a queen, my drum!
          Rub-a-dub-dub, dhum dhum dhum!"

          So the Monkey capered away into the forest in
          high glee, beating upon his drum, and he
          has never been heard of since.

The Monkey's Rebuke

IN a certain village, whose name I know (but I think I will keep it to
myself), in this village, I say, there was once a Milkman. I daresay you
know that a Milkman is a man who sells milk; but I have seen milkmen who
also sell water. That is to say, they put water in the milk which they
sell, and so they get more money than they deserve. This was the sort of
Milkman that my story tells of; and he was worse than the more part of
such tricksters, since he actually filled his pans only half full of
milk, and the other half all water. The people of that village were so
simple and honest, that they never dreamt their Milkman was cheating
them; and if the milk did seem thin, all they did was to shake their
heads, and say, "What a lot of water the cows do drink this hot
weather!"

By watering his milk, this Milkman got together a great deal of money:
ten pounds it was, all in sixpences, because the villagers always bought
sixpennyworth of milk a day.

When the Milkman had got ten pounds, that is to say, no less than four
hundred silver sixpences, he thought he would go and try his tricks in
another place, where there were more people to be cheated. So he put his
four hundred silver sixpences in a bag, and set out.

After travelling a while, he came to a pond. He sat down by the pond to
eat his breakfast, laying his bag of sixpences by his side; and after
breakfast, he proceeded to wash his hands in the pond.

Now it so happened that this was the very pond where the Milkman came to
water his milk. He came all this way out of the village, because he did
not want to be seen by the people of the village. But there was one who
saw him; and that was a Monkey, who lived in a tree which overhung the
pond. Many a time and oft had this Monkey seen the Milkman pour water
into the milk-cans, chuckling over the profit he was to make. This was a
very worthy and well-educated Monkey, and he knew just as well as you or
I know, that if you sell milk, you should put no water in it. When the
Man stooped down to wash his hands in the pond, quietly, quietly down
came the Monkey, swinging himself from branch to branch with his tail.
Down he came to the ground, and picked up the bag of sixpences, and
then up again to his perch in the tree.

The Monkey untied the mouth of the bag, and took out one sixpence, and,
click! dropped it into the pond. The Milkman heard a tiny splash, but it
did not trouble him, because he thought it was a nut or something that
had fallen from the tree. Click! another sixpence. Click! went a third.

By this time the Milkman's hands were dry, and he looked round to pick
up his bag, and get him gone. But no bag! Click! click! went the
sixpences all this while; and now the Milkman began to look around him.
Before long he espied the Monkey sitting on a branch with his beloved
bag, and--O horror! dropping sixpences, click! click! click! one after
another into the pond.

"I say, you Monkey!" shouted he, "that's my bag! What are you doing?
bring me back my bag!"

"Not yet," said the Monkey, and went on dropping the sixpences, click!
click! click!

The Milkman wept, the Milkman tore handfuls of hair out of his head; but
the Monkey might have been made of stone for all the notice he took of
the Milkman.

At last the Monkey had dropt two hundred sixpences into the pond. Then
he tied up the mouth of the money-bag, and threw it down to the Milkman.
"There, take your money," said the Monkey.

"And where's the rest of my money?" asked the Milkman, fuming with rage.

"You have all the money that is yours," said the Monkey. "Half of the
money was the price of water from this pond, so to the pond I gave it."

          The Milkman felt very much ashamed of himself, and
          went away, a sadder but a wiser man; and never again
          did he put water in his milk. And that is why
          I have not told you the name of the village
          where he lived; for now that he has
          turned over a new leaf, it would
          hardly be fair to rake up
          his old misdeeds
          against him.

The Bull and the Bullfinch

UNDER a certain tree lived a wild Bull, and a Bullfinch had his nest in
the branches. A Bull in a field is vicious enough, as I daresay you
know; but a wild Bull is worse than anything. Wild Bulls are
tremendously strong, and they can fight with almost any beast of the
forest, even Lions and Tigers.

This wild Bull used to attack every creature that came near; and that,
not for the sake of food, as Lions and Tigers do, but out of pure
mischief. When the creature (were he man or beast) was killed, this wild
Bull would leave the corpse lying, and begin to eat grass. But the
little Bullfinch harmed nobody, unless it were a worm he would eat now
and again for a treat. All day long he hopped about, picking up seeds,
and singing away with all his throat. Many a time he saw the wild Bull
gore some creature to death; and when he saw such things, tears would
roll out of his eyes, because he could do nothing to help.

At last he thought to himself that he could at least warn the wild Bull
of his wickedness, and clear his own conscience. So one morning, when
the wild Bull was sitting under his tree, and looking around him,
Bullfinch piped up, and said--

"Good brother Bull, I suppose we are akin somehow or other, because of
our names."

"Yes, I daresay it may be so, Cousin Bullfinch," said the Bull.

"Well," says the Bullfinch, "allow me the right of a near kinsman to say
something to you."

"All right, go ahead," said the Bull gruffly.

"Well," said the Bullfinch, clearing his throat (for he was a little
frightened), "don't you know that murder is a very evil deed, and yet
you do it every day of your life?"

"Impertinent speck!" said the Bull, getting up and walking away. He
thought it cheeky that a bird so little should presume to rebuke a great
big Bull. He did not remember, you see, that big bodies are often big
fools, and precious goods are done up in small parcels. The warning of
the little Finch was as the blowing of the wind; at least, so it seemed
at the time, though afterwards (as you shall hear) the Bull did remember
it.

So the Bull went on tossing and goring all that came within reach; and
now he would have nothing to say to the poor little Bullfinch.

This went on, until one night a certain Lion had a dream. This Lion was
King of the Forest, and he could conquer any creature who fought with
him. In his dream the Lion thought that an angel stood before him, and
said: "O Lion! in such a place, under a tree, lives a wild Bull, who
does cruel murders every day upon innocent folk. By that tree is good
pasture, and the wild Bull has grown very fat. I think he would make a
nice meal for you; and at the same time you would be doing a good
action in ridding the world of such a monster."

When day dawned, the Lion made no delay, but set out at once towards the
place of the wild Bull. By-and-by he caught scent of the Bull, and then
he uttered a terrible roar. The Bull heard the roar and was afraid; and
still more feared he, when he saw this Lion approach, whom he knew to be
the King of the Forest, and invincible.

"O Bull!" roared the Lion, "your hour has come. I am come to eat you, as
a just punishment for your sins, and also because I am hungry."

At this the Bull trembled greatly, for he knew now that his sins had
found him out. His knees gave way beneath him, and he was just about to
sink to the ground, when the words of the Bullfinch came into his mind.
Then he said--

"O mighty Lion! I have indeed deserved to be eaten, but I beg of you one
last favour. Give me leave to bid farewell to a little kinsman of mine,
Cousin Bullfinch, who lives in this tree, and at this moment is picking
up seeds not far off."

The Lion was a good fellow, and had no wish to be hard on the Bull, so
he said: "I give leave, O Bull, if you will promise on your honour to
come back and be eaten."

The Bull gave his word that he would come back, and then went slowly
away in search of the Bullfinch.

Master Bullfinch was at the moment eating his frugal breakfast of seeds.
Suddenly he was aware that the wild Bull was approaching. He looked up,
and seeing the dejected air of the Bull, he greeted him as cheerfully
as he could, and then asked what the matter was? This Bullfinch bore no
manner of grudge for the Bull's rudeness, because in his little body was
a great heart, and he never thought of mean things.

"O Finchy, Finchy!" moaned the Bull, "look upon me for the last time! A
hungry Lion has come to devour me, and it is of no use to resist; for he
says that an angel has sent him to punish me for my sins."

"Poor old chap!" said the Bullfinch, "tell me all about it."

Then the wild Bull told him the dream which the Lion had seen.

"Ah," said the Bullfinch, "that is curious."

"Why?" asked the Bull.

"Because," said the Bullfinch, "I too had a dream last night, which I
think the Lion ought to hear."

The wild Bull was not interested in the Bullfinch's dream; would you be
interested in dreams, I wonder, if you expected to be eaten the next
minute? However, he said nothing; and when Bullfinch fluttered his
wings, and flew away towards the Lion, our friend the wild Bull followed
slowly behind.

"Good morning, King Lion," said the little bird. "So you have had a
dream?"

"Yes," said the Lion, and then he told the Bullfinch his dream.

"I had a dream too," said the Bullfinch, "and this it was. I dreamt that
the same angel who came to you, came afterwards to me, and said, 'O
Bullfinch! when the Lion comes to eat your friend the Bull, tell him
that he was sent not to destroy, but to cure; and that now the Bull
repents of his evil ways, the Lion may go back again to his forest.'"

"Oh, I am so glad!" said the Lion. "I am hungry, it is true, but I
daresay I can find some other creature, who has committed no sins, and
wants no curing. So good-bye, friend Bull, and don't do it again." So
saying, the Lion shook hands with both of them, and went to look for a
fawn.

          Then the Bull, wild no longer, thanked his friend the
          Bullfinch for saving his life, and they became faster
          friends than ever. The Bull gored no more creatures,
          indeed he welcomed them as his guests; and in the fat
          pastures around that tree you might have seen, if you
          had been there, whole herds of deer and antelopes
          grazing without any fear; and the Bull lived
          in their midst to a green old age, till
          he died respected and went
          to a happier world.

The Swan and the Crow

ONCE upon a time, two Swans had to leave home on account of a famine;
and they settled by a lake in a distant land. By the side of this lake
lived a Carrion Crow. The Swans built a nest, and Mrs. Swan laid two
beautiful round eggs in the nest, and sat upon them. She had to sit on
the eggs for weeks, in order to keep them warm, so that the little ones
might grow up inside and be hatched. While she sat there, the Crow used
to help Mr. Swan to find food for his wife; and when the cygnets came
out of their shells, the Crow helped to feed them also.

So all went happily for a time, and Mr. and Mrs. Swan were deeply
grateful to the kind Crow. But Crows are not kind without some reason,
and what this Crow's reason was, you shall now hear.

Time went on, and one day Mr. Swan said to Mrs. Swan--

"My dear, the famine must be over by this time. What do you say? shall
we go home again?"

"I am ready," Mrs. Swan said, "and we can start to-morrow if you like."

"Stop a bit," says Mr. Crow, "I have a word or two to say first."

"Why, what do you mean?" the Swans said, both together.

"I mean," said the Crow, "that you may go, if you like, but these
cygnets are as much mine as yours, and may I be plucked if I let them go
with you!"

"Yours!" said Mrs. Swan. "Who laid the eggs? who hatched them?"

"And who fed them, I should like to ask?" said the Crow, with a
disagreeable laugh: "Caw, caw, caw!"

Here was a bolt from the blue! The Crow stuck to it, and the end of all
was, that Mrs. Swan stayed behind to look after her little ones, while
Mr. Swan flew off to lay a complaint in court against the greedy Crow.

But you must not suppose that this Crow meant to sit still, and let the
Swan have things all his own way. Not he; off he flew secretly to the
Judge, and to the Judge said he--

"O Judge, a Swan is going to lodge a false charge against me, and I want
your help!"

"If it is false," said the Judge, "you want help from no one."

"Caw, caw, caw!" said the Crow, "you understand me." Then this vulgar
Crow winked one eye at the Judge.

"Hm, hm," said the Judge, looking at the Crow. It is a pity to say it,
but it is quite true, that this Judge was an unjust Judge; and he was
ready to give any decision, right or wrong, so long as he was bribed
well for his trouble. In that country, you see, there was no jury to
decide matters, but all power lay in the hands of the Judge.

The Judge winked one eye at the Crow. Then he said, very softly, "~What
will you give me?~"

"Silver and gold have I none," said the Crow, "but I'll tell you what I
will do. I'll carry your father's bones to the Holy Land, and bury them
in Jerusalem, and then your father will be sure to go to heaven."

The Judge was so foolish that he really believed his father would go to
heaven at once, if only his bones were buried in Jerusalem, although his
father had been as wicked as himself while he was alive. So he agreed to
the Crow's proposal.

When the case came into court, of course the Judge gave decision in
favour of the Crow, though there was no evidence on his side except his
own word: and who but a fool would trust the word of a Carrion Crow?
When the court rose, the Crow flew to the house of the Judge, and asked
for the bones of the Judge's father. So the Judge tied up his father's
bones in a bag, and hung the bag round the Crow's neck. Away flew the
Crow, but he didn't fly far; for as the Judge watched him, the Crow
hovered over a filthy drain; and untying the bag, began dropping the
bones one by one into the mud.

"Hi, you brute!" shouted the Judge, "what are you doing!"

"Oh, you pumpkin!" said the Crow, "did you verily think that I should
take the trouble to carry your father's rotten old bones to Jerusalem?
No, no; I only wanted to see what rogues the race of Judges can be.
Caw!" Flop! went the last bone into the mud, and away flew the Crow, and
never came back there any more.

          So the Judge had to pick his father's bones out of
          the gutter. And the next thing he had to do was to
          reverse his own decision, and give the Swan his
          young ones again; because, you see, a great many
          people had heard what the Crow said to the Judge,
          and knew (if they didn't know it before) that the
          Judge was a rogue. So the Swan got his young ones
          back, and as for the Judge, he became the
          laughing-stock of the whole city, and he
          was obliged to go and try his
          tricks elsewhere.

Pride shall have a Fall

THERE was once a great drought in the land. For weeks and months not a
drop of rain fell; and the sun beat down, and dried up the whole
country, so that there was no water to be found. Now there was a certain
pond in that country; and as day after day the sun blazed, the water
sank lower and lower, until it was hardly an inch deep. Numbers of Frogs
used to live in this pond; but as the water dried the Frogs died, so
that the dry mud on the banks of the pond was covered all over with dead
bodies of Frogs.

There came a Jackal out of the forest. He was glad to see this pool,
because the pool where he used to drink had been quite dried up. So he
made a little platform of mud, and stuck up four posts at the four
corners; and then he gathered bundles of dry grass, and put them upon
the top of the four posts for a thatch. Then his eye fell on the corpses
of Frogs lying about; and being a foolish animal, he thought these
corpses were uncommonly pretty. And what do you think he did? He
gathered a lot of the dead Frogs and hung a fringe of them all round the
thatch; and in each of his ears he hung a dead Frog, like an earring.

From far and near swarms of Rats used to come to this pond for drinking,
since it was the only water to be found for a long distance, and all the
rest was dried up. Then the Jackal kept guard over the pool; and not a
drop might any Rat so much as taste, unless he would first bow down and
worship the Jackal, and sing the following psalm, which the Jackal made
up himself:--

          "A temple all of gold I found,
          With golden lamps hung all around;
          And see! the God himself is here,
          With two big pearls in either ear."

Even a Rat can tell a dead Frog from a pearl, but willy nilly he needs
must sing it, or else no water. So when the Rat had sung this psalm, and
bowed himself down three times before the Jackal, worshipping him as if
he were a God, he was allowed to go down and take a sip of the water.

One day, what should come down to the water to drink but an Ox with one
eye.

"Ho! ho! one-eyed Ox!" screamed the Jackal, "not a drop till you sing
your psalm."

The Ox blinked his one eye stupidly, and looked round. "What psalm?"
asked the one-eyed Ox.

"Mine," said the Jackal, who was very proud of his psalm, "my own
composition." Then he sang it over to the Ox, that he might hear it.

          "'A temple all of gold I found--'

"That's this, you know," he explained, pointing to the scraggy thatch--

          "A temple all of gold I found,
          With golden lamps hung all around;
          And see! the God himself is here,
          With two big pearls in either ear."

"Ah," said the one-eyed Ox, "I'm rather stupid, I fear, and it will take
me a minute or two to learn that psalm. It's a mighty fine psalm, that;
I never heard the like in church. Suppose I say it over to myself while
I'm a-drinking? that will save time, and it would be a thousand pities
to spoil a thing like that."

This flattered the Jackal so much that he agreed.

One-eye went down to the pool, and took a long, long pull at the water.
Then he came out of the water, and went slowly up to the Jackal, as he
was sitting under his thatch, with its string of dead Frogs, and the two
Frogs in the Jackal's ears.

"Now then, booby!" the Jackal said, "look sharp, the God is waiting."

The Ox opened a big mouth, and in a very hoarse voice he sang--

          "A nasty dirty thatch I found,
          With dried-up Frogs hung all around;
          And see! the mangy Jackal here,
          With two dead Frogs in either ear."

You may imagine the rage of the Jackal to hear this! He fairly foamed at
the mouth. "You blasphemous beast!" screamed he, "I'll teach you to
abuse a God!" And with that he jumped down off his seat, and gave chase.

Away scuttled the Ox; and as he ran, the water he had been drinking went
gurgling inside him, flippity-flop, flippity-flop.

This sound rather frightened the Jackal. "What's that?" he cried.

"A dog at your heels," said the Ox.

          The Jackal was so scared at the very name of dog,
          that he turned about in no time, blind with terror,
          and away he scampered as hard as he could pelt.
          He was so frightened, that he did not see where
          he was going; so he ran straight into
          the midst of a pack of hounds, who
          made short work of the
          conceited Jackal.

The Kid and the Tiger

A NANNY-GOAT and a Tigress were near neighbours in a certain wood, and
fast friends to boot. The Tigress had two tiger-cubs; and the family of
the Nanny-goat were four frolicksome kids, named Roley, Poley, Skipster,
and Jumpster.

But the Tigress was jealous of her friend the Nanny-goat, because Nanny
had four young ones, while she had only two. One day, as she was musing
on the injustice of her fate, she thought to herself, "What if I eat up
two of Nanny's kids, and then things will be equal? They do say, friends
have all things in common." So to Nanny-goat she hied, and said she--

"Sister Nanny, my little ones have gone out, and I am very lonely at
home. Do let one of your dear kiddies come and sleep with me, for
company. Will you, please?"

"Gladly will I, sister," said honest Nanny-goat, thinking no evil of her
friend. Then she ran out to the fields, where Roley and Poley were
rolling over each other, and Jumpster was jumping over the back of
Skipster.

"Children, children!" said Nanny-goat, "a treat for you! A kind friend
has asked one of you out to spend the night."

"Baa baa baa!" cried the Kids, running up; and then three of them called
out all together, dancing about old Nanny, "Let me go! Let me go! Let me
go!" But the fourth, who was a wise little imp (and Roley it was, to be
sure), asked in a quiet tone, "Who is it, Mammy Nanny-goat?"

"Why, who should it be but your Aunt Yellowstripe?" said Nanny.

At this they all looked rather crestfallen; for although Nanny-goat
loved her friend dearly, all the youngsters were afraid of her, for what
reason they could not say. Children have a way of finding out their
friends; and these Kids had noticed at times a gleam in the eyes of
Auntie Yellowstripe, which boded ill to little Kids.

"No-o, thank you, Mammy Nanny-goat," said Skipster, skipping away.

"No-o-o, thank you, Mammy," said Jumpster, and jumped after her.

"No-o-o-o, thank you," said Poley, and rolled away by himself.

Why did Poley roll away by himself? Because Roley stayed behind. Roley
did not say No, thank you; on the contrary, he said Yes. Why Roley said
yes instead of no, was his own concern; and I think Roley knew what he
was about.

This was how Roley went with the Tigress; and that night the Tigress put
him to sleep by her side. She cuddled him up, and made a great fuss of
him, thinking to herself, "Soft words cost nothing; and when he is fast
asleep, we shall see what we shall see."

But Roley was no such fool as the Tigress thought him. So he did not go
to sleep, but only pretended; and no sooner did Dame Yellowstripe begin
to snore, than up jumps Roley, as soft as you please, and fetches out
one of Yellowstripe's own cubs, who were sleeping away at the back of
the cave. He laid the cub in his own place, and went into the corner to
sleep with the other cub.

About midnight the Tigress awoke, and as she felt the warm little thing
nestling beside her, she chuckled to herself. Then she gave him one tap
with her mighty paw; crack! went his neck, and his dancing days were
over; the Tigress gobbled him up, skin, bones, and teeth. It was pitch
dark, you know, and she could not see that she was eating her own cub.
"One less of the brood now," thought the Tigress; turned over, and went
to sleep again.

Next morning, they all woke up; and Yellowstripe, to her dismay, saw
that Roley was rolling about, right as a trivet. She looked round for
her own cubs, and lo and behold! one was missing. At first she could not
make it out in the least; but when it dawned upon her what had happened,
she nearly turned yellow all over with rage and disappointment.

"Did you have a good night, Roley dear?" said she in a wheedling tone to
the Kid.

"Oh yes, Auntie," said the little Kid, "only a gnat bit me."

This astonished the Tigress, who thought that the Kid must be stronger
than he appeared to be. "Never mind," said she to herself; "come
to-night, we shall see what we shall see."

That night all went as before; only this time Roley put a huge stone in
his place, and then he ran off as fast as his legs could carry him. When
the Tigress awoke, she gave a pat to the stone: it hurt her paw sadly.

"Good heavens," said she, "what a mighty Kid it is, to be sure! I must
make short work of him now I have the chance, or there is no knowing
what may happen. When he grows up, he may kill me." So she gave a fierce
bite at the stone, and broke all her front teeth.

Now the Tigress' fury knew no bounds. She went raging about the cave,
hunting in every corner for Roley; but Roley was not to be found,
because, as I have told you, he was not there. So the Tigress was forced
to wait until morning for her revenge.

All night long the Tigress lay awake with the pain of her teeth; and
when morning came, she sought out a familiar friend to take counsel
with. This friend was an old one-eyed Tiger. The Tigress and the
one-eyed Tiger talked for a long time together, and as they talked they
walked. When they came to the end of their talk, their walk was also at
an end, and they found themselves at the mouth of Yellowstripe's den.
There in the den, as calm as you please, playing with the one remaining
Tiger cub, was Roley.

"Ha ha," laughed One-eye, "so there you are. Let us sit down, and I will
tell you a story."

"Do, do, Nuncle One-eye," cried Roley.

So they all sat down, and One-eye began. "When I eat little Kids," said
One-eye, "four of them make me a mouthful; and I'm coming one of these
days to make one mouthful of you and your brother and sisters."

"Capital, capital, Nuncle One-eye!" said Roley, clapping his paws;
"what good stories you do tell, Nuncle One-eye! Now I'll tell you a
story. When you come to eat us up, Skipster will hold you by the
forelegs, and Jumpster will hold you by the hind legs, and Poley will
hold your head, and Roley will chop it off, if only mother will give us
a light."

This terrified One-eye extremely, for he was a great coward. He thought
it all as true as gospel, so he took to his heels, and left Yellowstripe
in the lurch.

On the way, he met six other Tigers, friends of his. "Oh my friends!"
said he, "I have such a treat for you! A fine fat Kid, crying out to be
killed! Come along, come along, I'll show you the way, and all I ask is
the pleasure of serving you." Cunning old One-eye!

The six Tigers believed all that One-eye said, and away they all trotted
together towards the place where Roley lived. They knew he would go home
sooner or later; and indeed he was there already, and saw them coming,
so he climbed up a tree. Goats are wonderfully good at climbing rocks,
but I think most of them cannot climb trees; still, whatever may be true
of other goats, Roley could. If it were not so, this story would never
have been written. So Roley climbed up a tree, and sat on a branch, with
his legs all dangling in the air.

The first Tiger gave a jump, and missed him. Number two gave a jump, and
missed him. They all jumped, one after another, and not one of them
could touch Roley; who sat and laughed at them so heartily, that he
nearly fell off his perch.

At last, when they were tired of jumping, and jumping, up gets old
One-eye, and says, "I know how to get at him. I'll stand here, and you
get on my back, and then the rest of you one a-top of another, and then
we shall catch him nicely." They all thought this an excellent idea; so
One-eye propped his old carcass against the tree, and the other Tigers
mounted one on another's shoulders, until there they were, all seven in
a pyramid. Then the topmost Tiger stretched out his paw, and all but got
hold of Roley.

Thereupon One-eye cocked up his solitary eye, to see how things were
going on up aloft; and seeing this, Roley called out--

"Mother, give me a lump of mud, and I'll hit the brute in his sound eye,
and then we will finish him off."

          When One-eye heard this, he gave a great start, and
          down toppled the whole seven in a heap, one a-top of
          the next, spitting and roaring and scratching. They
          were so much taken aback, that they imagined all sorts
          of powerful beasts to be fighting with them, when it was
          only their own selves, biting each other; and the
          end of all was, that as soon as the seven Tigers
          had each got his four legs to himself, off
          they went helter-skelter into the forest,
          and never more troubled Mammy
          Nanny-goat and her four
          frolicsome
          Kids.

The Stag, the Crow, and the Jackal

ONCE upon a time there was a Stag living in a certain jungle, and in the
same jungle lived a Crow. These two were bosom friends. Why a Stag
should take a fancy to a Crow, I cannot say; but so it was; and if you
do not believe it, you had better not read any further.

It so befell that a Jackal came by one day, and his eye fell on this
Stag, and a fine plump Stag he was. The Jackal's mouth began to water.
How he would like to make a meal of so dainty a piece of flesh. But he
knew it was of no use trying to attack the Stag, who seemed very strong.
Still, by hook or by crook, that Stag he would have. So in the depths of
his cunning heart he concocted a trick, of which you shall shortly hear.

The Jackal watched his chance, and as soon as he had found the Stag
alone, he began to say, sidling up to the Stag, and whispering in his
ear--

"Beware of that Crow; he's fooling thee. Beware, beware all birds of the
air. There's no trusting any bird, let alone a Crow, who is worst of
the whole feathered tribe. Now you and I, who never try in the air to
fly, good honest gentlemen with four legs apiece, we are marked out for
friends by Nature herself."

Will you be surprised to hear that the Stag listened to the crafty and
slanderous words, and deserted his friend the Crow? When your hair is
grey you will know that such is the way of the world, and that a true
friend who sticks to the end, is harder to find than a diamond mine.

But although this Stag was shallow-hearted and weak, not so the Crow. He
was a true friend, and he was cut to the heart by the unkindness of his
friend the Stag; but he wasted no time in fruitless tears. He went about
his work as usual, and waited for a chance of winning back his recreant
friend.

Well, Stag and Jackal scoured about the woods together, and the Jackal
did his best to make himself agreeable. In this he had poor success; for
though the Stag tried hard to like his new comrade, yet he could not
help seeing that he was dirty; moreover, the Jackal ate all sorts of
dead animals, but the Stag was a vegetarian, and did not approve of this
kind of food. But though the Stag had qualms now and again, he was not
strong enough to break loose from the friendship of the Jackal.

But the time was ripening for the Jackal's blow. He knew a place where
huntsmen used to set gins and snares, to catch the wild animals. So one
day, as he and the Stag were out a-walking together, the Jackal so
managed that they passed by this place. The Jackal took good care to
keep clear of the snare; but the innocent Stag knew nothing of snares or
gins, so into a snare he stept, and snap! he was fast.

Now was the time for a true friend to show his friendship. But the
Jackal, as we already know, was a humbug; accordingly, all he did was to
sit by the side of the Stag, and try not to look pleased.

"Oh dear, what shall I do?" said the Stag, when he found himself caught.
"Oh my friend, do help me out."

"You shock me, friend," said the Jackal, pulling a long face; "surely
you have not forgotten that it is Sunday? We are told in the Ten
Commandments to do no work on the Sabbath day. If it were not so, how
gladly would I help you!" So saying, he wiped away a crocodile tear. He
sat down and waited in the hope that the Stag would die, and then he
would eat him.

But the faithful Crow was not far. Though his friend the Stag would not
so much as cast him a look, the Crow followed him ever, biding his time;
and now the time had come.

The Crow perched on a neighbouring tree, and said--

"Dear friend, I am only a weak little bird, and I cannot help you; but I
can teach you to help yourself. My advice is, pretend to be dead, and
when the Hunter comes, he will open the snare without any care, and you
can escape."

"Thank you, long-suffering friend!" said the Stag; and so he did. When
the Huntsman came, he thought the Stag was dead; he opened the snare,
and before he was aware, the Stag was up and off and away.

          The Stag asked his friend the Crow to forgive
          him, and they lived happily together as
          before. As for the treacherous
          Jackal, he never came
          near them more.

The Monkey and the Crows

IN a certain land, a flock of Crows built their nests in the branches of
a huge cotton-tree.

In that country, the climate is not the least like ours. It is hot all
the year round, and for eight months the sun blazes like a fiery
furnace, so that the people who live there are burnt as black as your
boot; then after eight months comes the rain, and the rain comes down in
bucketsful, with lightning fit to blind you, and thunder enough to crack
your head. These Crows were quite happy in their nests, whatever
happened; for when it was hot, the leaves of the trees sheltered them
from the sun, and in the rainy season the leaves kept them pretty dry.

One evening there came a terrible storm, with torrents of rain like
Noah's flood. In the midst of it, the Crows noticed a Monkey sliding
along, drenched and draggle-tailed, looking like a drowned Rat. The
Crows set up a chorus of caws, and called out--

"O Monkey, what a fool you must be! Look at us, dry and comfortable, in
our nests of rags and twigs. If we, with only our little beaks to help
us, can make comfortable nests, why can't you, with two hands and two
feet and a tail?"

You might have thought the Monkey would take this advice to heart. But
not a bit of it. Monkeys are naturally a lazy tribe, and they are full
of envy, hatred, and malice. What they like best is destroying whatever
they can lay their hands on; and when I look upon some of the nations of
this globe, I cannot help thinking that they really must be descended
from Monkeys. So this Monkey snapt and snarled, and said to the Crows--

"Just wait till morning, and then we'll see what a Monkey can do."

The simple birds were delighted to hear this, and looked forward to
seeing the Monkey do something wonderfully clever, with his tail and his
two hands and two feet.

Morning came, and the rain was over. The Monkey climbed up into the
tree, and in his rage and envy he tore all the Crows' nests to pieces.

          Then the Crows were sorry they spoke, and determined
          for the future to mind their own business,
          and let fools alone. For, as the wise man
          said, "To give good advice to a fool
          is like pouring oil upon
          the fire."

The Swan and the Paddy-Bird

A WILD Swan was flying once to his home, when he paused to rest on a
tree. This was a kind of tree you have most likely never seen. It was
very tall, and had no branches upon it until you came to the top, but at
the top was a large clump of green leaves, and bunches of cocoa-nuts
hanging down.

It so happened that on this tree was the nest of a Paddy-bird. A
Paddy-bird is a bird something like a heron, which feeds on fish and
frogs. At the moment when the Swan perched upon the tree, this
Paddy-bird was sitting demurely on the edge of a pond that was below the
tree, watching the water for a rise. She had no fishing-rod, but when
she saw a little fish or a frog swim past, out went her beak like a
flash, and the fish was pierced. Then she ate the fish, or carried it
off to her little ones in the nest.

When the Paddy-bird chanced to look round, she saw the Swan sitting upon
her tree. She was frightened at this, thinking that perhaps it was some
bird of prey, come to devour her chicks. So she left her fishing, and at
once flew up to the top of the cocoa-nut tree. The Swan looked harmless
enough when she came closer, so plucking up courage, the Paddy-bird
thus addressed him--

"Good-day, sir. May I ask who you are?"

"I am a Swan," said the other, "and I am on my way home; but as it is a
hot day, I thought I would rest awhile on your tree. I hope you have no
objection?"

"Welcome, my lord Swan, welcome!" said the Paddy-bird. "I only wish I
could offer you entertainment. But I am ashamed to say that I have no
food worth your taking. I am a poor bird, and you know we Paddy-birds
eat only small fish and frogs, which your highness would hardly touch."

"Oh, never mind for that," answered the Swan; "thank you all the same,
but I can find my own food on this tree of yours."

This set our Paddy-bird's heart all a-flutter, for what could he mean
but her brood? However, all was well in a minute; when she saw the Swan
go to one of the green cocoa-nuts hanging to the tree. You have seen, I
suppose, three little soft places at the top of a cocoa-nut, which are
holes in the shell filled up with pulp. The Swan pierced his bill
through one of these holes, and drank the milk inside the cocoa-nut.
Then he gave some of the milk to the Paddy-bird, and flew away.

This milk tasted very nice, and the Paddy-bird began to say to herself,
"What a fool I have been all these years! Here am I, watching and
waiting all day long for a frog, and nasty things they are too, and all
this while there was plenty of delicious milk within a yard of my nest!
Well, good-bye fish, and good-bye frogs; I have done with you now for
ever."

The next time the Paddy-bird felt hungry, she flew to a cocoa-nut and
began to peck at it. But she did not know the secret of the three little
holes at the top of the cocoa-nut; so she pecked, and pecked, and got no
further. At last she gathered all her strength, and gave a tremendous
peck at the cocoa-nut. Snap! her bill broke off, and the blood ran out,
and very soon the poor Paddy-bird had bled to death.

          Next day, the Swan happened to fly by that way
          again; and coming to the tree, he found his friend the
          Paddy-bird lying dead on the ground, with her bill
          snapt off clean. He understood at once what had
          happened, and said to himself, "This is what
          comes of trying to do what one is not
          fit for. Let the cobbler stick to
          his last, or misfortune
          follows fast."

What is a Man?

IN a certain forest, a Lioness dwelt who had one cub. This cub did not
go to school, as you one day will go; but he learned his lessons at
home. And what do you think his lessons were? Not multiplication which
is vexation; not the Rule of Three which puzzles me; not spelling and
copy-books. No; the Lioness had only one lesson to teach her cub, and
that was, to avoid mankind as if they were poison. Every day, morning
and evening, she taught him for an hour; telling him again and again,
that of all the beasts of the forest he need fear none, for a lion is
stronger than any, but man he must fear and keep clear of.

Well, the little Lion grew big; and as often happens to children as well
as lions' cubs, he grew conceited too. He could not believe that his
mother was old enough to know better than he; no, he would see for
himself. So one fine day, this Lion set out on a voyage of discovery.

The first thing he saw was an Ox. This Ox was a fine sturdy animal, and
the Lion felt rather nervous to see such hoofs and horns. You must
remember he was young and ignorant, and had hardly seen any animal but
his mother and father. So he went up to the Ox, and said timidly--

"Good morning, sir. Will you be good enough to tell me if you are a
Man?"

If an Ox could laugh, that Ox would have laughed in the face of the
Lion's cub. But an Ox is always solemn, like a Turk, though he does not
love bloodshed as a Turk does. This Ox was chewing the cud, munching and
mouthing with great calmness, so as to get the full flavour of the rich
grass. He turned his meek eyes, and stared at the Lion. Then he said--

"A Man! God forbid. A Man is a terrible creature. He makes slaves of us
Oxen, and puts a yoke on our necks and fastens us to a thing called a
plough; and makes us pull the plough to and fro, up and down, till we
are tired to death. If we won't go, he sticks a prod into us, which
hurts us very much. I can't think what is the use of all this pother; we
get no good of it. And when we are old, and can work no more, he kills
us, and eats our flesh, and the skin he makes into shoes for his own
feet. Keep clear of Men, if you value your life." Then the Ox turned his
head away, and went on with his chewing.

This gave our Lion something to think about. He thought the Ox a very
fine animal indeed, and yet, said the Ox, Man was stronger.

The Lion went his ways, and by-and-by, what should he see but a Camel.
If the Ox was a fine creature, here was a finer; ever so tall, with a
hump on his back, and a long neck, and great long legs. Surely this must
be the terrible Man he had heard so much of. But to make certain, he
approached the Camel with great respect, and said--

"Good morning, sir. Pray, will you tell me if you are a Man?"

The Camel turned his long neck, and sniffed and sneered as Camels have a
way of doing, and a most unpleasant way it is.

"Pooh!" said he. "Stuff! poof! you oaf! you think me a Man? I wish I
were a Man, wouldn't I make short work of you! A man, quotha! Why, I am
a slave to that same Man. They catch us, these Men, and make a hole in
our noses, and put a ring in it--do you see my ring? How do you think I
like a hole made in my nose, as if two holes were not enough! Then they
tie a rope to the ring, and lead us about all day long just where they
please, without a with your leave, or by your leave! And they make us
squat down in the mud, and put a great load on our backs, enough to
crush a whipper-snapper like you. Groan as we may, it's all of no use,
they do what they choose. Man! the very name makes me shiver. Get out,
and leave me alone!"

This frightened our Lion, because who knew whether the great animal
might not kill him, if it came into his head, so the Lion went away as
fast as he could.

In a little while, he espied an Elephant. Here was a monster, to be
sure! A great black mountain, with a long nose curling about, and huge
white teeth sticking out, and big ears flapping. The Lion was quite
terrified this time, and would not go near the Elephant, until he
suddenly saw that the Elephant had a rope round his tusks, by which he
was tied fast to a stake. Then he plucked up courage to approach, and
said--

"Good morning, my lord. Please will you tell me, are you a Man?"

The Elephant trumpeted loudly. That was his way of laughing at the idea
that he could be mistaken for a Man.

"Hooroo! hooroo!" he shrieked. "A Man! Hooroo! No, but a Man is my
master, and that's the truth. A Man tied me to this post. Cruel and
selfish brutes, are men; and with all my strength, I am no match for a
Man. They get on our backs, a dozen of them at a time, and make us
fetch, and carry, and drive us about by sticking a sharp spike into our
skulls. Don't you go near a Man, if you love your life; why, bless me,
they will make mincemeat of you! Hooroo!" The Elephant swished his trunk
all round him in his excitement.

Our Lion had now seen three astonishing creatures, and they all said
that a Man was stronger than they were. What could this terrible
creature be like? He must be a mountain indeed, if he was to master such
a beast as the black Elephant. Yet the black creature said that Men got
on his back, a dozen of them at a time. The Lion could not understand it
at all. He shook his head, and stalked away thoughtful.

As the Lion was going along, he saw a puny and weak-looking thing,
walking upright on two legs. He seemed to be a kind of monkey, thought
the Lion. It never entered his head that this little thing could be a
Man, but he trotted up to him gaily, and said--

"Good morning, my friend. Can you tell me where I can find a Man? I
have been hunting for one all the morning."

"I am a Man," said the other.

At this the Lion laughed in his face. "You a Man!" said he. "Come, come;
I may be young, but I am no fool, my good fellow. Why, you are not so
big as one leg of that mountain over there, who was tied to a stake, as
he said, by a Man."

"All the same," the Man said, "I am one of them."

"But look here," the Lion went on, "my father and mother both say that
Man is a terrible and cruel creature, and the only creature a Lion need
fear. Now, either you are no Man, or else my father and mother are quite
wrong."

"Well," said the Man, "I am not nearly so strong as you are, or the
Elephant and Camel, or even the Ox. As you say, I am not much to look
at, but I have one power which you all lack."

"Indeed," said the Lion, "and what may that be?"

The Man answered, "Reason."

"I never heard of reason," said the Lion. "Please explain it to me, will
you?"

"It is not easy to explain what reason is," replied the Man; "but if you
like, I will show you how it works."

The Lion was pleased. "Oh please do," he said.

I must tell you that this Man was a woodcutter, and he had an axe upon
his shoulder. He now lifted this axe and drove a blow into a stout
sapling which grew hard by. When he had split the sapling, he took a
wedge of wood, and hammered it in with the back of his axe, until there
was a large cleft in the trunk of the sapling. "Now then," said the Man,
"just put your paw in that hole."

The Lion obediently put his paw into the cleft, and then the Man pulled
out the wedge from the cleft. The sapling closed tight on the paw of the
Lion, and squeezed it. "Now," said the Man, "you know what reason is."

But the Lion no longer cared to hear about reason; all he wanted was to
get his paw out of the cleft. He pulled and he tugged, he roared and he
struggled; but all of no use; he could not by any means get his paw
free. The end of all was, in madness and fury he dashed his head against
the ground, and died.

          This was how the Lion learnt how terrible a being
          is Man; but unluckily, you see, his knowledge was
          of no use to him or any one else, because it cost him
          his life. If he had listened to his mother's
          teaching, he might be living still, and
          you would not be reading
          this story.

The Wound and the Scar

THERE was once a forest where a Lion dwelt. Over all the beasts of the
forest the Lion lorded it, and of men not one durst come near the place
for fear of King Lion; none, that is, except one only, a Woodman who
lived in a little hut just upon the borders of the woodland; and between
the forest and the hut a river flowed. This Woodman came often into the
forest, to cut wood; and he had no fear to do so, because the Lion and
he were bosom friends. Such fast friends they were that if ever the
Woodman failed to pay his daily visit, the Lion was grieved and missed
him sorely.

It happened once that the Woodman fell ill of a fever. In his woodland
hut he lay all alone, for no wife was there, or sister to care for him.
So he tossed and moaned, and waited for the hours to pass.

Of course during all this time the Woodman could not visit the forest,
and his friend the Lion missed him. "What can be the matter," thought
King Lion. "Has some enemy killed him, or has he fallen sick?" At last
he could no longer bear the suspense, and set out in search of the
Woodman.

I do not think that the Lion had ever yet been to his friend's house;
and for all he knew he might be walking straight into a trap. But he was
so fond of the Woodman that he never thought of danger. All he wanted
was to see his friend. Accordingly, he followed the path by which the
Woodman came into the woods; and in due time this path led him to the
bank of a wide and swift river, and over on the opposite bank was a hut.

In plunged the Lion, not waiting to think; and though there were
crocodiles in that river ready to eat him, and though the current bade
fair to sweep him away, so strong was his love for his friend that he
swam across.

The Woodman's house stood within an enclosure, and all the doors and
gates were shut; but the Lion jumped over the wall, and searched about,
until he managed somehow to force his way into the house. Then he saw
his friend lying upon a bed, and very ill, all alone, with no one to
tend him.

How grieved the Lion was to see his friend, you can imagine better than
I can tell. The Lion knelt down by his friend's side, and began to lick
him all over. This woke the man from his dazed condition; and when he
found the Lion licking his body, he did not like the smell of the Lion,
so he turned his head away, with a grunt of disgust.

Now I think this was very unkind, because the Lion had no other way of
showing how much he cared for his friend. Think what a long way he had
come to see his friend, and think what danger he had faced; and now to
be met with a grunt of disgust! The Lion stopped licking the Woodman,
and got up slowly, and went away. Back he swam over the deep and swift
river, but all the heart was taken out of him; he cared not for the
crocodiles, indeed now he would not have been very sorry if a crocodile
had devoured him. One crocodile did actually get a nip at his leg, and
left a wound there. Back to his den he crept, solitary and sad. And when
he got to his den, he lay down, sick of his friend's fever, which he had
taken by licking him.

In a week or so, the Woodman was well again; and thinking nothing of
what had passed, he shouldered his axe, and trudged away to cut wood.
When the time came for his midday meal, he went as his custom was to the
Lion's den; and there he found his friend the Lion, thin and sick.

"Why, friend, what is the matter?" the Woodman asked.

"I am ill," said the Lion.

"What is it?" asked the Woodman again.

But the Lion would answer nothing; and do what he would, the man could
not get him to say another word. So he left him for that day, and went
home.

For several days after, the man did the same thing; and gradually the
Lion got better. At last one day, when the Lion was quite well again,
the man said to him--

"Tell me, good friend Lion, what it is that has made you so silent and
gloomy of late?"

Then answered the Lion, "O Woodman, I will tell you. When you were ill,
I swam a swift river and faced death, all for your sake; I came into
your house when you lay deserted, and licked your body, and took the
fever which you had into my veins; and this wound which you see, I
received from a crocodile as I was swimming across on my way back. But
you received me with scorn, and turned away your face in disgust. The
fever is gone, and this wound (as you see) is healed; but the wound in
my heart can never heal. You are no true friend; and from henceforth our
ways lie apart."

The man was ashamed of his unkindness, but it was too late, for, as the
poet says--

          "Who snaps the thread of friendship, never more
          Can join it as it once was joined before."

The Cat and the Parrot

ONCE upon a time, a Cat and a Parrot had joint lease of a certain piece
of land, which they tilled together.

One day the Cat said to the Parrot, "Come, friend, let us go to the
field."

Said the Parrot, "I can't come now, because I am whetting my bill on the
branch of a mango-tree."

So the Cat went alone, and ploughed the field. When the field was
ploughed, the Cat came to the Parrot again, and said--

"Come, friend, let us sow the corn."

Said the Parrot, "I can't come now, because I am whetting my beak on the
branch of a mango-tree."

So the Cat went alone, and sowed the corn. The corn took root, the corn
sprouted, it put forth the blade, and the ear, and the ripe corn in the
ear. Then again the Cat came to the Parrot, and said--

"Come, friend, let us go and gather the harvest."

Said the Parrot, "I can't come now, because I am whetting my beak on the
branch of a mango-tree."

So the Cat went alone, and gathered the harvest. She put it away in
barns, and made ready for threshing. When all was ready for the
threshing, again the Cat came to the Parrot, and said--

"Come, friend, let us thresh the corn."

Said the Parrot, "I can't come now, because I am whetting my beak on the
branch of a mango-tree."

So the Cat went, and threshed all the corn alone. Then the Cat came back
to the Parrot, and said--

"Come, friend, let us go and winnow the grain from the chaff."

Said the Parrot, "I can't come now, because I am whetting my beak on the
branch of a mango-tree."

So the Cat winnowed the grain from the chaff alone. Then she came back
once again to the Parrot, and said--

"Come, friend, the grain is all winnowed and sifted; come and divide it
between us."

"Certainly," said the Parrot, and came at once. You see the Cat had done
all the work, but the Parrot was quite ready to share the profit. They
divided the corn into two halves, and the Cat put her half away
somewhere, and the Parrot carried his half to his nest.

Then the Cat and the Parrot agreed to invite each other to dinner every
day; that is to say, the Cat asks the Parrot to-day, and the Parrot asks
the Cat to-morrow. The Cat's turn came first. Then the Cat went to
market and bought a ha'porth of milk, a ha'porth of sugar, and a
ha'porth of rice. When the Parrot came there was nothing but this stingy
fare. Moreover, the Cat was so inhospitable, that she actually made the
Parrot cook the food himself! Perhaps that was her way of rebuking her
friend for his laziness.

Next day the turn came to the Parrot. He procured about thirty pounds
of flour, and plenty of butter, and everything else that was needed, and
cooked the food before his guest came. He made enough cakes to fill a
washerwoman's basket--about five hundred.

When the Cat came, the Parrot put before her four hundred and
ninety-eight cakes, in a heap, and kept back for himself only two. The
Cat ate up the four hundred and ninety-eight cakes in about three
minutes, and then asked for more.

The Parrot set before her the two cakes he had kept for himself. The Cat
devoured them, and then asked for more.

The Parrot said, "I have no more cakes, but if you are still hungry, you
may eat me."

The Cat was still hungry, and ate the Parrot, bones and beak and
feathers. Thus the tables were turned; for if the Parrot had the best of
it before, the Cat had the best of it now.

An old woman happened to be near, and saw this. So she picked up a
stone, and said--

"Shoo! shoo! get away, or I'll kill you with this stone."

Now the Cat thought to herself, "I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate my
friend the Parrot, and shall I blush to eat this old hag?"

No, surely not. The Cat devoured the old Woman.

The Cat went along the road and perceived a Washerman with a donkey. He
said, "O Cat, get away, or my donkey shall kick you to death!"

Thought the Cat, "I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate my friend the
Parrot, I ate the abusive old Woman, and shall I blush to eat a
Washerman?"

No, surely not. The Cat devoured the Washerman.

The Cat next met the wedding procession of a King: a column of soldiers,
and a row of fine elephants two and two. The King said, "O Cat, get
away, or my elephants will trample you to death."

Thought the Cat, "I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate my friend the
Parrot, I ate the abusive old Woman, I ate the Washerman and his donkey,
and shall I blush to eat a beggarly King?"

No, surely not. The Cat devoured the King, and his procession, and his
elephants too.

Then the Cat went on until she met a pair of Landcrabs. "Run away, run
away, Pussycat!" said the Landcrabs, "or we will nip you!"

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Cat, shaking her sides (fat enough they were
by this time), "I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate my friend the Parrot,
I ate an abusive old Woman, I ate the Washerman and his donkey, I ate
the King and all his elephants, and shall I run away from a Landcrab?
Not so, but I will eat the Landcrab too!" So saying, she pounced upon
the Landcrabs. Gobble, gobble, slip, slop: in two swallows the Landcrabs
went down the Cat's gullet.

But although the Landcrabs slid down the Cat's gullet easily enough, you
must know that they are hard creatures, too hard for a Cat to bite; so
they took no harm at all. They found themselves amongst a crowd of
creatures. There was the King, sitting with his head on his hands, very
unhappy; there was the King's newly-wed bride in a dead faint; there was
a company of soldiers, trying to form fours, but rather muddled in mind;
there was a herd of elephants, trumpeting loudly; there was a donkey
braying and the Washerman beating the donkey with a stick; there was the
Parrot, whetting his beak on his own claws; then there was the old Woman
abusing them all roundly; and last of all, five hundred cakes neatly
piled in a corner. The Landcrabs ran round to see what they could find;
and they found that the inside of the Cat was quite soft. They could not
see anything at all, except by flashes, when the Cat opened her mouth,
but they could feel. So they opened their claws, and nip! nip! nip!

"Miaw!" squealed the Cat.

          Then came another nip, and another great Miaw!
          The Landcrabs went on nipping, until they had nipped
          a big round hole in the side of the Cat. By this time the
          Cat was lying down, in great pain; and as the hole was
          very big, out walked the Landcrabs, and scuttled away.
          Then out walked the King, carrying his bride; and out
          walked the elephants, two and two; out walked the
          soldiers, who had succeeded in forming fours-right, by
          your left, quick march! out walked the donkey, with
          the Washerman driving him along; out walked the old
          Woman, giving the Cat a piece of her mind; and last
          of all, out walked the Parrot, with a cake in each
          claw. Then they all went about their business,
          as if nothing had happened; and the
          Parrot flew back to whet his
          beak on the branch of the
          mango-tree.

Notes

Notes

1.--The Talking Thrush

          Told by KÁSHI PRASÁD, village school, Bhingá, district
          Bahráich, Oudh.

Man sows cotton-seeds in garden--Phudki bird sees him--Makes her nest of
the cotton--Goes to a Behana, and says, "If I bring you cotton, will you
card it, and give me half, keeping half yourself?"--He does so--"Now
make it into balls" (Piuni)--Does so on the same terms--A Kori spins
thread on the same terms--And weaves it into cloth--Similarly a tailor
makes it into clothes--She flies to court and sits on a peg--Says the
King, "Give me your suit"--She does so, and says, "The King covets my
suit"--"Come here, and I will return it"--She comes, and he catches
her--"I will cut you in pieces"--"The King will cut me in pieces
to-day"--He cuts her up and tells his servant to wash them--"To-day the
King is washing and cleaning"--Puts her in a pan of oil--"To-day the
King is frying me in oil"--Eats her--"I shall go into the King's
stomach"--The Bird puts out its head--Two soldiers attempt to cut it off
and mutilate the King so that he dies.

The _motif_ is much the same as in No. 2 of the collection. The pieces
of the Thrush speak like the fish in the tale of the "Fisherman and the
Jinni" (Burton, "Arabian Nights," Library Edition, I. 59).

2.--The Rabbit and the Monkey

          Told by DANKHAH RABHA, in the Bhutan Hills. Taken
          without essential change from _North Indian Notes
          and Queries_, iv. § 465.

3.--The Sparrow's Revenge

          Told by SHIN SAHÁI, teacher of the village school
          of Dayarhi Chakeri, Etah District. Another version
          of the _Podnâ_ and the _Podnî_, _N.I.N.Q._ iii.
          83. Compare the _Valiant Blackbird_, No. 28 below.

Hen Sparrow tells her husband to go into the jungle and fetch firewood
to cook _khîr_ (rice milk)--A _Chamâr_ kills him--Hen makes carriage of
straw, yokes two rats to it, and drives off to take vengeance--Meets a
Wolf--"Where are you going?"--"To take vengeance on the Chamâr who
killed my husband"--"May I help?"--"It will be kind"--Meets a Snake, who
salutes her with, "Râm! Râm! Whither away?"--Replies as before, and same
thing happens--So with a Scorpion--They arrive at the house of the
Chamâr--Wolf hides near the river--Snake under pile of cow-dung
fuel--Scorpion under the lamp--The Sparrow flies up to the eaves and
twitters--Out comes Chamâr--Says she, "A friend awaits you near the
river." To the river he goes--Wolf seizes him--His wife goes to the heap
for fuel--Snake bites her--She calls to her son, "Bring the
lamp"--Scorpion stings him--They all die--Hen Sparrow gets another mate,
and lives happily ever after.

It is part of the Faithful Animal cycle (Temple, "Wide-awake Stories,"
412; Clouston, "Popular Tales and Fictions," i. 223 _seqq._). This form
of tale, in which the weaker animal gets the better of its more powerful
oppressor, is common in Indian folk-lore. Compare No. 1 of this
collection.

4.--The Judgment of the Jackal

          Told by SHIUDAN CHAMAR, of Chaukiya, Mirzápur.
          _N.I.N.Q._ iii. 101.

Merchant puts up at house of Oilman--Oilman ties the horse to his
mill--Next morning Merchant asks for it--He replies, "It has run
away!"--"But what is that horse?"--"My mill gave birth to it in the
night"--Appeal to Siyar Panre, the Jackal--"Go back and I will come"--He
bathes in a tank--Delay--They seek him, and find him sitting by the
tank--"Why did you delay?"--"Too busy; the tank caught fire, and I have
just put it out"--"You are mad; who ever heard of a tank on fire?"--"Who
ever heard of a mill bearing a foal?"--Oilman returns horse.

A parallel may be found in the Buddhist _Jātaka_, No. 219 (Cambridge
translation, ii. 129), another Version from the Frontier in Swynnerton's
"Indian Nights' Entertainment," p. 142. Compare Stumme, _Tunisische
Märchen_, vol. ii., Story of an Oilman.

5.--How the Mouse got into his Hole

          Told by BISRAM BANYA and recorded by MAHARAJ SINH,
          teacher of the school at Akbarpur, Faizabad district.

6.--King Solomon and the Owl

          Told by MUNSHÍ CHHOTÉ KHÁN, teacher of the village school
          at Ant, District Sitápur, Oudh.

          [A new legend of the Fall.]

Solomon hunts alone--An Owl asks him to receive him--Solomon asks, "Why
do you hoot all night?"--"To wake men and women early for prayer:
travelling is difficult, for treasure is dearer than life"--"Why do you
shake your head?"--"To remind mankind that the world is but a fleeting
show, and to show my disapproval of their delight in worldly
things"--"Why do you eat no grain?"--"_Adam ate wheat in heaven, and was
turned out of it on that account._ Adam prayed, and God sent him into
the world, and blessed him to be the father of mankind. If I eat one
grain I expect to be cast into hell"--"Why do you drink no water in the
world at night?"--"Because Noah's race was drowned in this world in
water. If I drink, it would be hard for me to live"--Solomon is pleased,
and asks the Owl to remain with him, and advise him on all points.

There is no verse in the original.

All through the eastern world the owl, from its association with
graveyards and old ruins, is regarded as a mystic bird, invested with
powers of prophecy and wisdom (Crooke, "Popular Religion and Folk-lore
of Northern India," i. 279).

7.--The Camel's Neck

          Told by BACHÁÚ, a Kasera, or brassfounder, of Mirzápur,
          North-West Provinces.

Camel practises austerities--Bhagwán is pleased, and appears to
him--"Who are you?"--"Lord of the Three Regions"--"Show me your proper
form"--Bhagwán appears in his four-handed form (Chaturbhuji)--Camel does
reverence--"Ask a boon"--"Let my neck be a _yojan_ long"--"Be it
so"--The neck becomes eight miles long--He can now graze within a radius
of four miles (sic)--It rains--He puts his neck in a cave--A pair of
Jackals eat his flesh--The Camel dies--A wise man says--

          "Álas dókh mahán dekhyo phal kaisá bhayá;
           Yátén únt aján, maran lagyo nij karm se."

"Idleness is a great fault: see what was the result of idleness. By this
the foolish Camel died, simply owing to his own deeds."

This is one of the very common cycle of tales where the fool comes to
ruin in consequence of a stupid wish. In the "Book of Sindibad," it
appears as the "Peri and the Religious Man" (Clouston, "Book of
Sindibad," 71); La Fontaine has adopted it as the "Three Wishes," and
Prior as "The Ladle." The Italian version will be found in Crane,
"Italian Popular Tales," 221. The four-hand god is Vishnu in his form as
Chaturbhuja.

8.--The Quail and the Fowler

          Told by RAMESWAR-PURI, a wandering religious beggar
          of Kharwá, District Mirzápur.

Fowler catches a Quail--"I'll teach you three things, and if you free me
I'll teach you a fourth: (1) Never set free what you have caught; (2)
What seems to you untrue you need not believe; (3) What is past you
should not trouble about"--He sets the Quail free--Says the Quail, "I
have in my stomach a gem weighing 1¼ seers, and worth lakhs of rupees;
had you not let me go you would have that gem"--Fowler falls on the
ground in misery--Says the Quail, "You forget my teaching: (1) You set
me free; (2) You did not ask how a body so light could contain such a
gem; (3) You are troubled about what is past"--Flies away--Fowler
returns home a wiser man.

Compare the "Laughable Stories of Bar-Hebraeus," E. A. W. Budge (Luzac,
1897), No. 382, where a Sparrow acts as this Quail does. See also the
"Three Counsels worth Money" in No. 485.

9.--The King of the Kites

          Told by RÁM DÉO, Brahman, of Mirzápur.

Frog and Mouse dispute, each saying he is King of the Kites--The dispute
lasts for several years--They refer it to a _Panch_ (Committee of
Five)--The other three are Bat, Squirrel, Parrot--They cannot decide--A
small Kite appears--Carries off both Frog and Mouse, and eats them--The
rest depart--The dispute does not arise again.

The belief that each species of bird and beast has a king of its own is
common. Thus, we have a king of the serpents, of mice, of flies,
locusts, ants, foxes, cats, and so on (Frazer, "Pausanias," iii. 559).
Also see No. 27 of this collection.

10.--The Jackal and the Camel

          Told by HAR PRASÁD, Brahman, of Saráya Aghat,
          District Etah, N.W.P.

Camel grazing, entangles nose-string in a tree--Confused in mind,
appeals to Jackal--"Brother, I will free you for one _seer_ of
flesh"--He agrees--Jackal asks the tongue--"Have you a witness?"--Jackal
tries all the beasts, offering half of all he gets--Wolf refuses--Jackal
explains that the Camel will die, and they will get all his body--He
then agrees, and swears it--Camel opens his mouth, curls back
tongue--Jackal cannot catch the tongue--Wolf tries--When the head is
well in, Camel closes his jaws--"O _Dâdâ_ (father), what is this?"--Says
Jackal, "The result of lying," and runs away--Wolf dies.

In Oriental folk-lore the jackal takes the place which the fox occupies
in the Western world, and numerous tales are told of his cunning. This
fact has formed the base of an argument to prove that the European Beast
tales originated from the East (Tawney, "Katha Sarit Ságara," ii. 28).

11.--The Wise Old Shepherd

          Told by MUNSHI FAZL KARÍM of Mirzápur.

A Nága (Snake) goes out of his hole to take an airing--Enters the Raja's
court--All flee in terror--Raja orders the Snake to be killed--The
Prince kills it--Snake's wife goes in search--Enters the court and
learns his fate--Vows to make his wife also a widow--Coils round the
Prince's neck in the night--He dares not stir--Queen-mother goes to see
what is the matter--Sees the Snake--Raja sends archers--They prepare to
shoot--Snake pleads fair reprisals, and asks that the matter be decided
by Panch--They find five Shepherds holding a Panchayat--They all go
thither--The men all agree that the Snake is right except one--He asks
how many sons has the Snake--"Seven"--"Then you must wait till the
Princess has three more, and then you may kill him."

There is a universal taboo in India against killing a snake. When a
cobra is slain it is supposed that its mate always avenges its death
(Crooke, "Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India," i. 226).

12.--Beware of Bad Company

          Told by JAGAT KISHOR, master at the Government School,
          Gondá, Oudh.

A Swan made friends with a Crow--They fly away from Mánsarowar to find
some sport--Perch on a pipal tree under which a pious Raja is
worshipping his Thákurji (idol of Rám or Krishna)--Crow drops filth on
his head and flies away--He sees the Swan and shoots it--Swan says:--

          "Kák náhin, ham hans hain,
          Mán karat ham bás;
          Dhrisht kág ké mél són,
          Bhayo hamaró nás."

("I am no Crow but a Swan, dwelling in Mán Sarówar; being friend of an
ignoble Crow I am destroyed.")

The Crow, as in several tales in this collection, is in Oriental
folk-lore the representative of all that is thievish and mischievous.

13.--The Foolish Wolf

          Told by MAHÁDEVA PRASÁD, pupil of branch school, Nau
          Shaharah, District Gonda, Oudh.

Wolf and Ass were friends--Played as described in text--Boy sees Wolf
running away from Ass, and says, "What a timid Wolf"--Says the Wolf,
"You shall rue it, I'll carry you off to-day"--Boy tells his
mother--"Never mind, he won't hurt you"--Hides stone in loin-cloth--Wolf
comes for him--Leaves him in his den for the morrow--Goes to play with
the Ass--Boy climbs a tree--Wolf finds no Boy--Stands gaping with
perplexity--Boy throws stone into his mouth and kills him.

14.--Reflected Glory

          Told by MÁTÁ DÍN, assistant teacher, Pili-Bhít district, N.W.P.

A Shepherd had a lame Goat which he beat--It ran away--Fearing the wild
beasts, it sat down beside a cave where were footsteps of a Lion--A
Jackal comes up--"Rám, Rám, grandfather! I have found food after many
days." "Rám, Rám, grandson, I was told to sit here by the owner of these
footprints."--"A Lion! if I eat you, he will eat my cubs"--He goes--A
Wolf comes, and the same thing happens--The Lion comes--Says the Goat,
"By the influence of your footprints I have been safe; beasts came to
devour me, and I became your man: they fled." "If you have called
yourself my man I will not eat you"--Lion finds an Elephant: "I have a
lame Goat; let him go on your back and eat the young leaves as you
graze"--He agrees, and the Goat says, "Khoj pakar liyo baran ko hasti
mili hai ái gaj mastak achchhi charhi ajayá kopal khâya" ("By betaking
myself to the footprints of the great, I have got an
Elephant")--Mounting on the Elephant's head, the Goat feeds well on new
leaves.

15.--The Cat and the Sparrows

          Told by TULSI RÁM, Brahman, of Sadabad, Mathura
          district. For the _motif_, compare _Jātaka_, No.
          333 (translation, vol. iii. p. 71).

16.--The Foolish Fish

          Told by HARI CHAND or HEM CHANDI, teacher of a
          village school, Mirzápur district. A variant of
          the same, told by SHEO-DÁN, Chamár, Chankiyá,
          Mirzápur district.

Banya sees Tiger sunk in the mud--Tiger tries him to release him--Swears
he will not hurt him or his family--Banya saves him--Says Tiger, "Shall
I eat you or your ox?"--Banya protests--Tiger: "It is the way of my
family"--Banya says, "Let the Jackal arbitrate"--Jackal asks to see the
place the Tiger was in--Then to be shown exactly how he was--The Tiger
goes in again, and the Jackal advises the man to go home and leave him.

17.--The Clever Goat

          Recorded by MÁTÁ DÍN, assistant teacher, Pili-Bhít district.

18.--A Crow is a Crow for Ever

          Told and recorded by SÁHIB RÁM, Brahman, of Nardauli,
          Etah district.

The verse is:--

                  Kág parháe pinjra: parhi gaye cháron Ved:
                  Jab sudhi ai kutum ki rahe dhed ke dhed.

          "I kept my crow in a cage, and taught him all four Vedas;
           When he thought of his family, he became filthy as ever."

19.--The Grateful Goat

          Told by BIKKÚ MISRA, Brahman, Achhnérá village, Agra district.

Butcher buys a Goat--"Spare my life, and I will repay you"--He spares
him--The Goat goes into the forest and meets a Jackal--"I am going to
eat you." "Wait till I get fat in the forest." "Good: look out for me
when you come back"--Meets a Wolf--Same thing happens--Finds a temple of
Mahádeva--In it are gold coins--Swallows them--Goes to a
flower-seller--"Cover me with flowers"--He does so, and the Goat voids
two mohurs--Sets out to return--Meets the Wolf--"Have you seen a Goat?"
"No"--Meets the Jackal--"Have you seen a Goat?" "Yes, some distance
back"--Proceeds to the Butcher, and voids the rest of the coins--The
Butcher is grateful, and never kills him as long as he lives.

Agra district. Tales of animals spitting gold are common, as in Grimm's
"Three Little Men in the Wood" ("Household Tales," i. 56) and in
Oriental Folk-lore (Tawney, "Katha Sarit Ságara," ii. 8, 453, 637;
Knowles, "Folk-tales of Kashmir," p. 443).

20.--The Cunning Jackal

          Told by BAL BÍR PRASÁD, teacher of the school at
          Sultánpur, Oudh.

A Jackal sees melons on the other side of a river--Sees a Tortoise--"How
are you and your family?" "I am well, but I have no wife." "Why did you
not tell me? some people on the other side have asked me to find a match
for their daughter." "If you mean it I will take you across"--Takes him
across on his back--When the melons are over the Jackal dresses up a
jhau-tree as a bride--"There is your bride, but she is too modest to
speak till I am gone"--Tortoise carries him back--Calls to the stump--No
answer--Goes up and touches it--Finds it is a tree--Vows revenge--As
Jackal drinks, catches his leg--"You fool, you have got hold of a stump
by mistake; see, here is my leg," pointing to a stump--Tortoise leaves
hold--Jackal escapes--Tortoise goes to Jackal's den--Jackal returns and
sees the footprints leading into the den--Piles dry leaves at the mouth,
and fires them--Tortoise expires.

This is an unpublished variant of the "Jackal and the Crocodile"
(Temple, "Wide-awake Stories," 243).

21.--The Farmer's Ass

          Told by RÁM SINH, Haidar-Garh, district Barau Banki.

A Washerman has an Ass that brays on hearing a conch-shell, thinks he
must have been a saint in a former life, but something went wrong (kahin
chuk gaya) and he became an Ass--Names him Tulsi Das--Ass dies--"He was
valuable to me," shaves head, performs obsequies, gives feast to
clansmen--Goes to shop of a Banya--"Why are you in mourning?" "Tulsi
Das, who was a great saint, is dead"--Banya shaves, too--Raja's sepoy
asks him why--"Tulsi Das is dead"--Shaves, too--Comrades ask why--Same
thing--Same with the chief of the sepoys--The minister, the raja, all
shave--Queen asks why--Raja tells her--"But who is Tulsi Das?" "A friend
of the minister's"--So the report is traced back to the Washerman, who
says, "He was my Ass."

_N.I.N.Q._, iii. § 104, gives the same tale about an ass named Sobhan
(beautiful): told by Shyam Sundar, village accountant of Dudhi, Mirzápur
district, recorded by Ahmad Ullah. Compare Temple's "Wide-awake
Stories," 'The Death and Burial of poor Hen Sparrow;' Lady Burton's
"Arabian Nights," iii. 228, 'The Unwise Schoolmaster who fell in Love by
Report;' Jacob's "English Fairy Tales," 'Tetty Mouse and Tatty Mouse,'
and _note_, p. 234.

22.--The Parrot Judge

          Told by MAKUND LÁL, Mirzápur.

A Bird-catcher had a Parrot which knew only two words, Beshak
(undoubtedly) and Cheshak (what doubt)--Took it to market, and gave out
that it knew Persian, price 5 lakhs of rupees--Nobleman asks it, "Do you
know Persian?"--"Cheshak"--Buys it--Puts it in a gold cage, and gives it
good food--King one day began to talk to the Parrot in Persian--It could
say nothing but these two words--The owner threw it on the ground and
killed it.

23.--The Frog and the Snake

          Told by AKBAR SHÁH, Mánjhi, one of the jungle-folk
          of Manbasa, Dudhi, Mirzápur, and recorded by
          Pandit Ramgharíb Chaubé. _N.I.N.Q._, iii. § 101.

No change. The King of the Snakes is Vásuki Nága.

24.--Little Miss Mouse

          Told by AKBAR SHÁH, Mánjhi, of Manbasa, Dudhi,
          Mirzápur. _N.I.N.Q._, iv. § 19.

No change in first part. The music-shop is in the original the house of
the Chamâr (a caste of labourers and leather-workers), who gives a drum,
which is broken by a woman husking rice, who strikes it with a pestle.
The crop in the last scene is rice.

25.--The Jackal that Lost his Tail

          Told by PARMANAND TIWÁRI, student, Anglo-Sanskrit School,
          Mirzápur. _N.I.N.Q._, iv. § 17.

A Kurmi (one of the agricultural tribes) used to go to his field--At
noon his wife brought the dinner--Meets Jackal, and all falls out as in
tale till the tail is cut off--Jackal returns and finds wife gathering
cow-dung--"Your son (_sic_) has cut off my tail, and I must bite you."
"He is dead, come to the funeral feast?"--He and his friends come--"To
prevent you squabbling, let me tie you up"--Ties them to the cattle
pegs, tailless Jackal with specially strong chain--Kurmi comes out with
bludgeon--They break their ropes and flee, all but tailless Jackal,
which Kurmi kills.

This is connected with the Æsopian fable of "The Fox who Lost his Tail."

26.--The Wily Tortoise

          Told by BRIJ MOHAN LÁL, second master, High School, Manipuri,
          N.W.P. The bird is a _Hansa_. _N.I.N.Q._, iii. § 295.

27.--The King of the Mice

          Told and recorded by BABU GANDHARAB SINH, of Etah.

Kingdom of Mice--Mouse King and Fox Wazir--All animals of forest did
homage--Caravan passed--Camel left behind--Eats the Mouse King's
garden--Fox brings him in--Mocks the King--Nose-string gets
entangled--King says he is served right--He begs release and promises
service--Mouse gnaws string--Camel serves him--Woodcutters find Camel
and take him--King sends to fetch them--Demands his Camel--The
Woodcutters tell their King--He refuses--King of Mice collects armies
and burrows under Woodcutter's treasury--Brings all the money out in
charge of a detachment of Mice--Wise man sees it--Covets the money--Old
Mouse says, "Why do you covet? our King will give you service"--Goes to
the King--The King bids him fetch more of his brethren--With these the
Mouse King invades the realm of Woodcutters--Mice undermine the walls of
the enemy's fort--Woodcutters' army flee--King of Mice gets back his
Camel, and makes the Woodcutter King his vassal.

(The episode of the wise man seems to be interpolated, as the men play
no part in the attack.)

Another version in _N.I.N.Q._, iii. § 292, told by THÁKUR UMRÁO SINH of
Sonhár, Etah district, N.W.P. For Kings of Animals, compare No. 9 of
this book.

28.--The Valiant Blackbird

          Told by WAZÍRAN, a Mohammedan servant of Mirzápur, and
          recorded by MIRZA MUHAMMAD BEG.

A Podna (weaver bird) and his mate lived in a tree--The Raja catches the
wife--Podna builds carts of reeds, yokes pairs of frogs, makes
kettle-drum, armed with piece of reed, sets out drumming--Meets a
Cat--"Where are you going?" "Sarkande ki to gári, do mendak jote jaen,
Raja mári Podni, ham bair bisahne jaen" ("My carriage is of reed with
two frogs yoked thereto; the King has seized my Podni; I go to take my
revenge"). "May I go with you?" "Get into my car"--Meets in same way
Ants, Rope and Club, River--Drives into King's courtyard and demands
Podni--King orders him to be shut in henhouse--"Nikal billi, teri bári.
Kán chhor, kanpati mári" ("Come out, Cat, your turn now: come out of my
ear and hit them on the head")--Cat comes out and kills fowls--Next
night shut in stable--"Niklo rassi, aur sonte tumhari bari. Kan chhor,
kanpati mari"--Rope ties horses and Club kills them--Next night shut in
with elephants--"Niklo chiunti tumhári bári. Kán chhor, kanpati
mári"--Ants run up trunks and sting their brains--Next night tied to the
Raja's bed--"Niklo darya teri bári. Kán chhor, kanpati mári"--River
begins to drown King and bed--"For God's sake, take your wife and go."

Here, as in other tales of this collection, we have the incident of the
Helping Animals, for which see Tawney, "Katha Sarit Ságara," ii. 103,
596; Crooke, "Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India," ii.
202. See _N.I.N.Q._, iii. § 173.

29.--The Goat and the Hog

          Told by SÚRAJ SINGH, assistant master of the Kándhla school,
          district Muzafarnagar, N.W.P. See _N.I.N.Q._, iv. § 430.

Goat and Hog friends--Goat goes to seek his fortune--Enters shop of a
Banya--Eats all he can find--Goes into inner room--Banya returns--Little
girl cries for sugar--Goes in to get some--Goat says, "Ek sing anrur
ganrur; dusri sing meri, soni marhawal. Banya beti awo nahin, dhenruki
phoron" ("One of my horns is twisted, one is gilt with gold. Don't come
in, Banya girl, or I will tear your stomach open")--Runs out--Father
sends for the Kotwal--Same thing--Prays to him--Goat comes out: "I want
sweetmeats, ornaments for my head, neck, feet, horns, tail"--Gives them,
putting on all the jewels he has in pawn--Goat shows all this to the
Hog--Hog goes to try his luck--Knew no verses--No one frightened--Banya
drives him out with stick and dogs.

30.--The Parrot and the Parson

          Told by BACHAU KASERA, Mirzápur. _N.I.N.Q._, v. § 72.

Banker taught his parrot to speak--A Sadhu passed by--Quoth Parrot,
"Salaam, Maharáj, how can I get out?" "Let me ask my Guru"--Guru when
asked swooned--Sádhu told Parrot what had happened, and apologised for
not being able to help--"I understand," says Parrot--Feigns death--Cage
opened.

31.--The Lion and the Hare

          Told by SURYABALI, Mirzápur.

No change. The verse is:--

          Biná budhí ke bágh biláná:
          Kharhá san kahún bágh maráná.

32.--The Monkey's Bargains

          Told and recorded by RAMESWAR-PURI, teacher, Khairwá
          village school, district Mirzápur.

The Story of Gangá Bûrhi (name of the old woman). No change in the
incidents, except that the cowherd is grinding corn, and the last
sentence is added. The verses are:--

          Wáh, jangle men se lakari láyá,
          Wáh, lakari main burhyá ko dinh,
          Burhiyá monkon roti dinh,
          Wáh rotiyá main tokôn dinh
          Kyá tun mokôn mataki na degá?      5

"Hullo! I brought fuel from the forest. (2) I gave it to the old woman.
(3) The old woman gave me cake. (4) I gave that cake to thee. (5) Wilt
not thou give me jugs?"

          U roti main kohrá ko dinh,      4
          Kohrá monkôn metuki dinh,
          U metuki main tokôn dinh,
          Kyá tu mujhko makkhan na degá?

"I gave that cake to the Potter. (5) The Potter gave me an earthen
vessel. (6) I gave that earthen vessel to thee. (7) Wilt not thou give
me butter?"

          Wáh roti main kumhará ko dinh,      4
          Kumhará monkon metuki dinh,
          Wáh metuki main gwálin ko dinh
          Gwálin monkon londi dinh,
          Wáh londi main tokôn dinh,
          Kyá tu monkôn ek bail bhí na degá?

"(6) I gave that earthen vessel to the cowherd's wife. (7) The cowherd's
wife gave me a lump of butter. (8) I gave that lump to thee. (9) Wilt
not thou give me an Ox?"

The others are not given, except the last lines:--

          Baj meri dholaki dhámak dhûn;
          Râni ke badle ái tun.

"O my drum, make sounds like _dhámak dhûn_: thou art come in exchange
for a Queen."

33.--The Monkey's Rebuke

          Told and recorded by LÁLÁ BHAWÁNÍ DÍN, teacher of Majhgáon
          district Hamirpur.

A Banya sold milk mixed with water--Earns 100 rupees--Sets out for
home--Stops to wash at a tank--Lays the bag down--Monkey takes the bag
up a tree--Drops 50 rupees in the tank--Throws down the bag to the
man--"You sold half water and half milk: therefore I have thrown half
your money into this tank"--Banya goes home a better man.

34.--The Bull and the Bullfinch

          Told by PANDIT JAGANNÁTH PRASÁD, master of Marári
          Kalán village school, and recorded by Pandit
          Madhuban, second master of the same, Unáo
          district, Oudh.

Khusat Bird and Bull--The rest as in the story, save that "the Almighty
King of the Universe" promises his help to the Lion--Bull tells
Bird--Bird says, "Did not I warn you? still I will help"--Tells him that
he has dreamt a marriage has been arranged for himself with Mahadeva's
spouse--They apply to Mahadeva for explanation--Mahadeva thinks, "If I
say visions are real things, this Bird will claim my wife"--So says,
"Dreams go by contraries: go home and don't be foolish."

See the value of friendship.

35.--The Swan and the Crow

          Told by LÁLA SHANKAR LÁL, village accountant, and
          recorded by CHANGAN SINH, master of the school at
          Chamkari, Etah district, N.W.P.

No change, except Wazir for Judge and Gayá for Jerusalem. The Judge is a
Hindu, and the Crow promises to take his father's bones to the sacred
city of Gayá, in Bengal.

36.--Pride shall have a Fall

          Told by AKBAR SHÁH, Mánjhi, one of the jungle-folk of
          Manbasa, district Mirzápur.

No change. The animal with one eye is supposed to be cunning and uncanny
(Crooke, "Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India," ii. 37,
51). Compare No. 37 of this collection.

37.--The Kid and the Tiger

          Told by AKBAR SHÁH, Mánjhi, and recorded by PANDIT
          RAMGHARÍB CHAUBÉ. A favourite nursery tale of the
          Kharwárs of Mirzápur.

Tigress and She-goat great friends--Tigress has two cubs, Goat four kids
named Khurbhur, Muddil, Goddil, and Nathil--Tigress thinks: "It is hard
that I have only two, and the Goat has four: suppose I eat two of hers
to make things even"--Asks the Goat to let one kid sleep with her--Only
Khurbhur consents--Khurbhur puts one of her cubs in his place--She eats
it--Puts a stone in his place--She breaks her teeth--One-eyed Tiger
calls--Tells a "story": "When I eat goats, all the four kids are one
mouthful"--Khurbhur says, "When you come to eat us, Muddil will hold
your head, Nathil the fore-paws, Goddil the hind-paws, Khurbhur will cut
off your head, if mother holds the light"--Tiger runs away--Meets six
more--They go to Goat's house--Khurbhur climbs tree--They jump and miss
him--They climb one on another, One-eye at bottom--Khurbhur says,
"Mother, a lump of mud to throw in his eye"--One-eye jumps--They
fall--They run away, and trouble the goats no more.

The one-eyed animal appears in No. 35 of this collection.

38.--The Stag, the Crow, and the Jackal

          Told and recorded by BALBÍR PRASÁD, Brahman,
          of Mirzápur.

Stag and Crow are friends--Jackal covets Stag--Says, "A crow is not a
friend for you; choose a denizen of earth like me"--They become
friends--Jackal leads him to snare--Stag is trapped--"I cannot help you,
because there is leather in the snare, and it is the Ekádashi (eleventh
day of the lunar fortnight) when I fast"--Crow advises him to feign
death--He does so, and escapes.

39.--The Monkey and the Crows

          Told by SARIJU PRASÁD, teacher of the school at Subhikha,
          Bahraich district, Oudh.

Crows build nests in a cotton-tree (_semal_)--In the rains a Monkey
arrives soaking--Said the Crows, "We build nests with only a beak: can
you not make a better with two hands and two feet?" "Wait till
morning"--Then he tears down their nests--"Good advice given to a fool
only kindles his malice."

40.--The Swan and the Paddy-bird

          Told by DEVI DÍN, student, and recorded by BADARI PRASÁD,
          of the school at Musanagar, Cawnpur district.

No change. The lake in the original is the famous Mana Sarovar lake in
Tibet. The Swan at the end repeats this couplet:--

          Bit chhoto, chit saugun, bit men chit na samáe:
          So murak binsat sadan, jirni bakuli nariyar kháe.

("Desire is one thing, capacity is another. The desire exceeds the
power. Thus die the foolish, as did the Paddy-bird when she tried to eat
the cocoa-nut.")

The Paddy-bird is the Bagla, or Bagula, a sort of small heron (_Ardea
torra_), which frequents the banks of ponds and catches little fish and
frogs. In folk-lore, from its quaint appearance, it is the type of
demure cunning, and a sanctimonious rogue ascetic is often compared to
it.

Compare a similar tale of a crane: _Jātaka_, No. 236 (Cambridge
translation, ii. 161).

41.--What is a Man?

          Told by _Shibbá Sinh Gaur_, Brahman, resident in
          Saharanpur, N.W.P.

No change, except that the order of the animals is Elephant, Camel, Ox.

Another version makes the man a carpenter--He goes away and makes a
cage--Induces the Lion to enter--Leaves him to starve.

The complaints of the animals against men form the subject of a very
amusing Hindustani book derived from the Persian, the Akhwán-us-safa.

42.--The Wound and the Scar

          Told by SHAIKH FARÍD AHMAD, and recorded by the teacher of
          the village school, Barhauli, district Bahraich, Oudh.

No change, except the Wound is dealt by the Woodman's axe, at the
command of the Lion, when first he visits him after the sickness. The
verses are--

          Samman dhaga prem ka jin toryo chatkay
          Jore se na jurat hai, aut ganth par jay.

43.--The Cat and the Parrot

          Told by BISESHAR DAYÁL, Banya (or corn-chandler),
          of Bindki, district Fatehpur, N.W.P., and recorded
          by PANDIT BALDEO PRASÁD, teacher of the Tahsili
          school, Bindki.

No change, except the Parrot says, "I am sitting on the branch of a
mango-tree and getting a bill made." Number of cakes not given. And
after meeting the Raja, the Cat meets (1) four young of the wild cow
(Surahgáya), which she eats, and (2) a pair of Surahgáya, which fall
upon her, and tear her stomach open, when all those she has eaten troop
out.

Here, as in other tales of this collection, the Parson is the Guru or
spiritual adviser of pious Hindus.

          PRINTED BY
          THE TEMPLE PRESS AT LETCHWORTH IN GREAT BRITAIN

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Varied accenting was retained. This hyphenation was so varied that
images of the original "Notes" pages were included in the HTML version.
You may see these images by clicking on the pages numbers.

A smaller typeface indicating a quiet voice was indicated by surround
the text with ~.