BOOK III.

_Hatim’s journey to the desert and city of Himyar--His interview with

Hamīr, and his return to the city of Shahabad._

The historians have informed us, that when Hatim set out on his

journey from Shahabad he had not the least idea in what direction he

ought to proceed. All he knew of the man in question was, that he

dwelt in the city of Himyar; he therefore placed his reliance upon

divine Providence, and continued his route to the north. When a month

had thus passed, the summit of a mountain appeared in the distant

horizon. Thither Hatim directed his steps, and when he arrived at the

foot of the mountain, he heard a voice loudly exclaiming: “_Come, oh

come, I can no longer endure thy absence._”

Hatim ascended the mountain till he saw a wide-spreading and shady

tree, underneath which was placed a sofa formed of marble. On the sofa

reclined a young man fair of countenance, holding in his hand a branch

of the tree, and his eyes shut as it were in a state of abstraction,

exclaiming, at short intervals, “_Come, oh come, I can no longer

endure thy absence._” When Hatim saw him, he wondered within himself

how a human being could have taken up his residence in such a solitary

spot: he therefore resolved to ask him the cause of his sorrow. He

went close to the youth, and said, “Friend, tell me the nature of your

grief.” The young man continued in a state of listlessness without

taking the least notice of Hatim’s inquiry, but uttered again the

words above given. Hatim once more addressed him, but received no

reply; and then, he for the third time asked him, saying, “Strange

youth, surely you are deaf; thrice have I requested to know the cause

of your sorrow, and you have returned me no answer: am I not to be

considered by you as a man, and a servant of the Almighty?” The youth

opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, said to him, “My friend, whence

come you; what is your business with me, and what is the subject of

your inquiries?”--“You and I,” replied Hatim, “are of the same

species; perhaps I may be able to contribute to your relief.”--“Alas!”

rejoined the other, “many a one like you has come here, and having

teased me with questions respecting my condition, has abandoned me;

but no one has hitherto made any effort to relieve me: may I then

request that you will go your way?” Hatim still persevered, saying,

“As you have told your tale to so many, I beg for heaven’s sake, that

you will let me hear it.”--“Sit down then for a moment,” said the

young man, “till I relate to you my history.”

Hatim reclined beneath the shade of the tree, and the youth proceeded

with his tale: “I am a merchant. Once I was journeying with my caravan

towards the empire of Rūm, and at a certain spot on the road near

this mountain I desired my attendants to move onwards, while I

remained admiring the surrounding scenery, after which I should soon

overtake them. My caravan accordingly proceeded, and I began to climb

the mountain; but the higher I went, the greater became my desire to

reach its summit. At length I stopped to rest underneath this tree;

when, lo! a damsel unparalleled in beauty of countenance and elegance

of form, presented herself to my view. The moment I beheld this

ravisher of hearts, reason abandoned my soul; and I fell senseless on

the ground. The moon-faced damsel approached me, and raising my head

upon her lap, besprinkled my face with rose-water of sweet fragrance.

When I returned to my senses, and found my head reclining upon the lap

of this Hourī, heavens! had I a thousand hearts, her beauty would

have robbed me of them all. I stood up and asked her, ‘Fairest of

damsels, who are you, and from what cause do you dwell in this

solitude?’--‘I am a fairy,’ she replied, ‘and this mountain is my

residence: I have long wished to see one of the human race such as you

are, and this day the desire of my heart has been realized.’ I became

so fascinated with the charms of this fairy angel, that I lost all

thoughts of my caravan, my home, my merchandise, and myself. She

smiled so irresistibly that she entangled my heart in the fetters of

her ringlets.

“After I had lived three months in the enjoyment of her society, I one

day said to her, ‘Why should we thus spend our lives in solitude? It

would be better for us to remove to the city, and pass our time in the

midst of new pleasure.’ To this the fairy replied, ‘If such is your

wish, I am satisfied; and I will accompany you as soon as I can get

permission to quit this place. Meanwhile I must leave you for a short

time, and you must not stir hence till my return; remain underneath

this same tree till I rejoin you, when we shall set out together for

your city.’ I then said to her, ‘How long will you be

absent?’--‘Within seven days,’ she answered, ‘I shall certainly

return; and, I repeat, beware of moving hence till I come, otherwise

you will have cause to repent.’

“It is now seven years since the fairy left me, and on account of her

injunctions and my promise, I durst not, during that period, go away

anywhere, lest in my absence my beloved should have returned, and not

finding me here, she should have cause to be angry with me. But, in

fact, my strength is now so reduced that I cannot proceed in search of

her, having lived for so long a time on the leaves of trees and water

from the fountain. I may verily say, that to me _the earth is hard,

and the heavens are far off_; I cannot stay, and I dare not go. Many

people like yourself have come to me, and on hearing my history have

gone their way; and on that account I disregarded your inquiries.”

When the young man had finished his tale, Hatim said to him, “Pray,

sir, what is your name?”--“I am called Tamim of Kharzim,” was the

reply. “Did the fairy,” rejoined Hatim, “mention to you her name and

place of abode?”--“Her name,” replied the other, “is Alkanpari, and

her residence is the mountain Alka.”--“When she left you,” continued

Hatim, “in what direction did she proceed?”--“She walked to the

right,” answered the youth; “but very soon I lost sight of her, and I

know not whither she went.”--“Well,” said Hatim, “if you really wish

to see that fairy again, come with me, and we shall set off together

to the mountain of Alka, and endeavor to find her out.”--“Your

proposal is fair,” answered the youth; “but if I depart with you, and

during my absence the mistress of my heart should happen to come here,

she will return disappointed; my journey will then be of no avail, and

I shall not obtain the object of my wish. If it be destined for me to

meet with her, it must be in this spot; and if otherwise, I am willing

to sacrifice my life for her beloved sake.”

When Hatim heard this, tears of pity flowed from his eyes, while he

thus addressed the young man: “My good friend, I will myself go to the

mountain of Alka, and should it please the Almighty Creator, I shall

find out that beautiful fairy, and either cause her to return to you,

or bring her hither in person: I will depart immediately while you

remain here, and when I have discovered the dwelling-place of

Alkanpari, I will return.”--“Noble sir,” said the youth, “I have never

yet seen any one who would abandon his own affairs in order to serve

others; why should you be an exception to this rule? Go then and

follow your own business.”--“Mistake me not, young man,” said Hatim,

“I have devoted my life and property to the service of my

fellow-creatures, and so far as either of them may be of use, I am

ready to assist the distressed. Be assured, sir, that I speak

sincerely; I have made a vow to God always to speak the truth; trust

me, then, and remain here till I return.”

The young man promised that he would not leave that spot; and Hatim

bidding him farewell, recommended him to the care of God, and

departed. He proceeded in the direction which the fairy had gone, and

for the whole of that day had his eyes bent towards the top of the

mountain; but he no sooner approached the summit, than another still

higher appeared beyond it. He passed onwards to the higher mountain,

which he began to ascend. Its sides abounded with evergreen trees and

shady groves. At length he came to a spot overshadowed by four aged

and wide-spreading trees, underneath which were placed seats neat and

clean. Hatim reclined on one of these couches, and as the breezes were

cool and refreshing, he soon fell asleep. In the midst of his slumbers

four fairies came and sat down beside him, and when they discovered

that the sleeper was one of Adam’s race, they said one to another,

“How has this young man found his way hither? Let us question him as

to the object of his journey.”

One of the four fairies having awaked Hatim, said to him, “Pray, tell

us, young man, how have you arrived here, and on what account are you

come?” Hatim opened his eyes, and on seeing the fairies, replied, “I

have travelled hither, under the guidance of my Creator, in search of

Alkanpari, who resides in the mountain of Alka. That beautiful fairy

has captured the heart of a youth by name Tamim, whom she one day left

underneath a tree, promising to return in the course of seven days;

and, lo! the youth has waited there seven years in expectation of her.

The miserable man is now in the agonies of death; and I am going to

expostulate with the fairy for her cruelty and insincerity; for to

make a promise and not to fulfil it, is a proceeding unbecoming the

noble.”

To this the fairies replied, “Alkanpari is sovereign of the mountain

Alka; how is it possible that she could have pledged herself to hold

an interview with one of your race? In truth, you are mad to say so,

and it is our duty to put you to instant death.”--“If such be my

fate,” returned Hatim, “I am resigned.” The fairies relenting, said to

him, “If you will pass some days in our society, and entertain us with

your conversation, we shall conduct you to the mountain of Alka.”--“I

agree,” said Hatim, “particularly as I have no other resource, and the

success of my present journey must depend upon you.” The fairy damsels

then presented him with food, and treated him most hospitably with

every kind of eatable that he could desire. When the stipulated period

had elapsed, Hatim requested to be conducted on his way by his fair

entertainers, who readily accompanied him during the space of seven

days, and then took leave, saying, “Beyond this spot we dare not

advance: you must hold by the path towards the right hand till you

come in sight of a mountain at the foot of which there are two roads;

but there you must again take that which leads to the right, and you

will thereby arrive at the mountain of Alka.”

Hatim bade adieu to his guides, and proceeded on his journey towards

the mountain. In a month after he came to the place where the road

branched into two, and as the shades of the night were falling, he

there sat down, in order to rest till day. When a watch of the night

had elapsed, his ear was struck with a voice of sorrow that issued

from the surrounding desert. He raised his head and as he listened to

the mournful sounds, he thought within himself, “Oh, Hatim! thou hast

devoted thyself to the service of thy Creator; and now, when the voice

of distress pierces thy ear, why dost thou hesitate to administer

relief? What will be thy answer hereafter in the presence of the great

Judge?” With these reflections he speedily arose and proceeded to the

left, in the direction of the voice. The whole night he continued to

advance, but no one could he find; and when it was day, he sat down

and rested till darkness again overspread the earth, when the same

lamenting voice reached his ears. He started up, and continued his

pursuit till at the dawn of day he arrived at a solitary spot, where

he beheld a comely youth with his feet bare and his head uncovered,

bitterly weeping and lamenting.

Hatim addressed the young man, saying, “My friend, how came you to be

alone in this wilderness, whose echoes resound to your cries; and who

has sent you hither?” The youth in tears replied, “Generous sir, I am

by profession a soldier, and lately quitted my home in quest of

service. On my journey I happened to lose my way, and on coming to a

certain city, I asked the inhabitants, ‘What is the name of this city,

and who is its sovereign?’ One of them told me, ‘This is the capital

of Musahhir, the magician’; on hearing which, I became terrified, and

immediately fled. After I had ridden the distance of a farasang from

the city, I came to a garden, whose beauty charmed my heart; and

dismounting from my steed, I entered this terrestrial paradise. I had

not advanced more than three steps within the garden, when I beheld

troops of damsels fair as Houris and clothed in splendid apparel. I

then discovered that I was in the garden of the residence of the

women, and reflecting that it was highly improper for me to enter such

sacred precincts, I began to retrace my steps the way I came.

“When the women saw me, one of them ran and told her mistress that a

young man was about to walk in the garden, but on discovering his

mistake, had retired. On hearing this, the lady, who was none other

than the daughter of Musahhir the magician, instantly sent me a

message requesting my attendance. I went, and the moment I beheld her

fair countenance I became like one beside himself, and grew so faint

that I had to lay hold of the garden gate for support. Her attendants

seized me by the hands and conducted me to the midst of the garden,

where I was seated upon a couch beside the magician’s daughter. This

lady received me so kindly, and smiled so sweetly, that my heart was

pierced with love. Bewildered, I contemplated her beautiful form as

she sat by me.

“Meanwhile, who should arrive at the garden door but her father the

magician; and when he saw my horse, he asked whose it was, and being

informed of the whole affair by the attendants, he entered, foaming

with rage. When he beheld his daughter engaged in conversation with

me, he seized her by the neck, and was about to dash her against the

ground, but the lady appealed to his sense of justice, as she was not

guilty of any impropriety, and begged of him first to make the

strictest inquiry, and then inflict punishment, if due. The father

checked his anger and withdrew his hands, when in the meantime the

nurse addressed him, saying, ‘Oh, king! your daughter is now of age,

and amongst your subjects there is none worthy of being her husband.

The stranger you see here is just arrived: he seems of noble rank, and

an honorable man; it were better, then, that you give him your

daughter in marriage, for you will thus secure a noble successor. If,

however, you put to death these two, who are perfectly free from

crime, you will, on the one hand, set a ruinous example to your

people; and, on the other hand, you will stain yourself with the blood

of the innocent.’

“On hearing this, Musahhir the magician said, ‘Daughter, what think

you of this proposal?’ The damsel replied, ‘As yet I have not been

seen by any stranger, and as this traveller has happened to see me

unveiled, I am willing to accept him.’--‘Be it so,’ said her father;

‘but I have three conditions, and that man alone who can comply with

them shall receive my daughter.’ I then ventured to address the

magician, saying, ‘In that case I am ready to do whatever you command

me.’ The magician then conducted me to his capital, and admitted me

into his hall of audience. He then summoned the grandees of his

dominions, in whose presence he thus stated to me the three conditions

on which I was to receive his daughter:

“‘The first condition is, that you will procure me a pair of the

animals called parīrū.’

“‘The second is, that you will bring me the muhra, the pearl which is

in the mouth of the red dragon.’

“‘And the third is, that you will cast yourself into a large cauldron

full of boiling oil, and see if you can come out unhurt.’

“To each of these I agreed, and immediately quitting the city, I

wandered hither, where I am now exhausted with hunger and thirst, and

pierced through the heart with the darts of the glances of a Houri. I

am not able to return to my own country, and no friend has yet visited

me by whose aid I might fulfil the conditions of the magician, and

thus become entitled to the hand of his daughter; in this desert I

have constantly strayed, weeping and lamenting, since the time I left

the city, which is now a period of two years.”

On hearing this statement, Hatim said to the young man, in condoling

language, “Be of good cheer, for God willing, I will perform these

three conditions for you, and put you in possession of your mistress.”

He then remembered the circumstance of the jackals that had procured

him the head of the pariru from the desert of Mazanderán, and

resolved to set out thither immediately. In short, Hatim took leave of

the youth, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. In the course of

a few days he came to a certain city, around which, along the walls

and ditches, the inhabitants had laid piles of dried wood, which they

kept burning.

Hatim, surprised, asked them what was the cause of this conflagration.

“If,” said one of them, “we do not keep this fire constantly burning

all around our outward walls, a monstrous demon will enter our city

and devour us.”--“Pray,” said Hatim, “what like is this evil being

that so annoys you?”--“He is a large animal,” replied they, “frightful

beyond description, and when he comes he devours three or four of our

people at a time.” Hatim, on hearing this, began to consider how it

would be practicable to free them from this calamity, and in the

meantime he went to take some repose in the caravanseraï.

He then caused a pit to be dug outside the city in the open plain,

which he fenced round with bushes of thorn and piles of wood, and

furnishing himself with a bow and quiver full of arrows he took up his

post in that ambush about sunset. When about a watch of the night had

passed, the approach of the monster was indicated with a noise like

that of a tempest. When this formidable beast came nearer, he saw that

it had eight feet and seven heads, of which six were like those of

lions, and the remaining head resembled that of an elephant. The

elephant head was situated in the middle, and had three eyes.

When Hatim was leaving the city, the inhabitants had given him a

description of the monster, which he now found to be quite correct.

They further told him that this terrific beast was vulnerable only on

the middle eye of the elephant head, and if it were possible to hit

that eye with an arrow, it would be the means of removing this

calamity, for then the monster would run off, and never approach a

human abode. Meanwhile the inhabitants hearing him advance, kindled

their fires all around the city, which became completely covered with

a thick cloud of smoke. The monster moved round the walls, and

continued to roar with all his mouths so loud that the city shook to

its foundation. At length he approached the spot where Hatim lay

concealed, and when the latter observed him, he placed his trust in

Providence, and seizing his bow he took a deliberate aim at the

central eye on the elephant head, and pierced it with an arrow.

The monster reeled and fell with a crash upon the earth, and raised

such a roar that the city and the desert shook far and wide. He

shortly after started up, and fled so swiftly towards the wilderness

that he never looked behind him. Hatim spent the whole night without

the walls, and when the dawn of morning appeared he reëntered the

gates. The people crowded round him, and asked whether he had seen the

demon. He answered, “I have expelled him from your

territories.”--“How,” said they, “can we be certain of that?”--“You

may soon satisfy yourselves on that score,” replied Hatim; “this night

you can watch on the walls and battlements of the city, and if you

hear his sound, then shall you consider me a teller of falsehood; if,

on the other hand, the sound shall not be heard, you will be convinced

of my veracity.” To this they agreed and acted accordingly, and when

the night was over and all well, they returned to Hatim and prostrated

themselves at his feet, and conveyed him in triumph to the residence

of their governor, who received him with the utmost courtesy and

respect, seating him by his side, and treating him with boundless

hospitality. The people of the city, and particularly the governor,

speedily brought all their wealth in cash and valuable effects, and

offered it to Hatim, who said to them, “I am a poor traveller, and I

am not the least desirous of such wealth as you offer me.” They

requested him to accept of their bounty, and do with it what he

thought proper.

Hatim accepted the gold and property which they thus pressed upon him,

and bestowed the whole of it on the fakirs, and poor people of the

city. He then took leave of the inhabitants, and set out on his

journey to Mazanderán. As he was journeying onwards, he saw a black

snake in deadly contest with a weasel. He stood for some time looking

on, while neither of the animals seemed to have the advantage. At

length he shouted, “Vile reptiles! what is the cause of this deadly

contest between you?” The snake replied, “My opponent here has slain

my father.” The weasel added, “Snakes are the natural food of my

species, and therefore I killed his father, and will kill him also,

that I may eat him.” Hatim addressed the weasel, saying, “If flesh be

thy desire, say the word, and I shall give it thee from off my own

body”; and to the snake he said, “If revenge be thy object, slay me

instead of the weasel.” Both of them, on hearing this, ceased from

their struggle. The weasel said to Hatim, “As you have offered me your

flesh, give it me.”--“What part of me,” asked Hatim, “do you

desire?”--“Your cheek,” replied the weasel.

Hatim seized a knife, and was about to cut off the flesh from his

cheek, when the weasel cried, “Desist, young man, I merely did this to

try your firmness, and now I am convinced of your generosity.”

Immediately both of them assumed the appearance of men. When Hatim saw

this, he asked, “My friends, what wonderful occurrence is this?” The

weasel replied, “We are both of us of the race of the genii, and I

confess I have slain his father; but the reason is, that I fell

desperately in love with the old man’s daughter, and he refused his

assent to our marriage. The brother, as you see, bears deadly hatred

towards me, and I must kill him in self-defence.” Hatim, addressing

the genii, recommended to them peace and amity on both sides, and

proffered that each should marry the other’s sister. The genius that

had been in the form of a weasel replied, “My father, who is king of

the genii, will never agree to such a proposal.”--“Let me be shown to

his presence,” requested Hatim, “and I may induce him to be

satisfied.”--“Follow me, then,” said the genius, “and you shall soon

be in my father’s court.” After they had thus walked together for some

distance, they arrived at a spacious city, where the prince told

Hatim, “This is my father’s capital. I must part with you here, in

order to proceed to my own residence; but my attendants will take you

by the hand, and conduct you to my father’s presence.”

Troops of genii approached Hatim accordingly, and ushered him before

their sovereign, whose name was Mahyūr. When his Majesty saw Hatim,

he said to him, “Stranger of the race of Adam, what important affair

has brought you into my capital?”--“I have come,” said he, “for

promoting peace and friendship.”--“How,” rejoined the king, “can any

of the human race act so friendly a part towards the genii, and what

is the nature of this service with which you are to favor us?”--“You

have a son,” continued Hatim; “may I ask whether you wish his life to

be spared, or are resolved on his death?”--“Truly,” replied Mahyur, “I

have a son, but what then?”--“If you love him,” said Hatim in return,

“follow my advice, and his life may be saved; otherwise death will

soon overtake him.”--“May the divine favor be upon you,” rejoined the

king of the genii; “tell me what is the matter, that my son is in

danger of his life.”--“He has slain the father of a certain youth

named Bahram,” said Hatim, “and the latter bears hatred towards him on

that account, and will certainly slay him: to-day I saw them in deadly

contest, and your son’s life would have been short indeed had I not

parted them. Another day they will again meet, and the result will be

fatal; but if you obey my directions, I may be the means of

establishing peace between them. The case is this: your son is

enamoured of Bahram’s sister, and has slain her father because he

refused his consent to their union; on the other hand, Bahram is in

love with your daughter. It is requisite then, in order to do away all

grounds of hatred, that you bestow your daughter on Bahram, and induce

his sister to marry your son.”

Mahyur expressed satisfaction with Hatim’s proposal; and accordingly

summoned his son and Bahram into his presence, where Hatim succeeded

in making them friends. When each of the lovers was in possession of

his mistress, Hatim went to take leave of Mahyur, who said to him at

parting, “Brave sir! accept of something from us as a reward for your

kindness.”--“I have never yet taken a reward,” replied Hatim, “for

discharging the duties of humanity.”--“Generous Hatim!” rejoined the

king of the genii, “accept from me this staff as a token of esteem; it

may be of use to you. When you hold it erect in your hand, it becomes

possessed of some rare qualities; for instance, if a serpent or

scorpion sting you, the venom shall have no effect, and the fire shall

have no power over you. If any one assail you with magic, turn round

the staff, and the enchantment will be of no avail. In particular, the

poison of the red dragon can have no power over you. Accept at the

same time this talisman, and whenever you behold a serpent, whether

red, or black, or green, or white, place the talisman in your mouth,

and you will be safe. Again, when you come to a river, throw the staff

into the water, and it will instantly become a boat.”

Hatim having taken the talisman and the staff, bade adieu to the king

of the genii, and proceeded on his journey to Mazanderán. Advancing

day and night, he arrived at the banks of a large river. While

standing upon the shore he beheld the waves rising to the clouds, and

by their buffeting lashing the stars of heaven. He looked in all

directions for a place where he might cross; and when he was in this

consideration, he recollected the staff presented to him by Mahyur the

king of the genii. He immediately seized it in his right hand, and

threw it amidst the billows, whereupon the staff was changed into a

boat, in which he embarked and began to make his way across. After he

had sailed about half way, a huge nihang espied him, and ran off with

himself and his boat. Hatim resigned his soul to the will of fate, and

was waiting the result with patience, till at length after they had

traversed the deep for the space of seven farasangs, his feet rested

on firm ground. There he opened his eyes, and was surprised on hearing

the nihang address him in eloquent language, thus: “Oh, Hatim! I have

brought thee into this place that thou mightest render me justice.”

Hatim said, “What justice do you require?” To this the nihang replied,

“The crab has unlawfully deprived me of my place of residence: my wish

is that you will put me in possession of what is my right.” Hatim

rejoined, “Is it possible that the crab is more powerful than you?” To

this the nihang replied, “Sluggish as he may appear, he is able to

crush me into pieces between his claws; at present he is abroad

somewhere in quest of food, and I have in the meantime brought you

hither.”

Hatim humbly placed his reliance on his Creator, well aware that of

himself he could do nothing; when, lo! the crab, which was of immense

size, made his appearance, whereupon the nihang immediately fled. The

crab slowly approached; and when he saw the flight of the nihang, he

raised such a noise as shook the earth, so that Hatim himself was

terrified, and devoutly prayed that Providence might deliver him from

the evil that threatened him. He speedily took in his hand the charmed

staff presented to him by Mahyur, on beholding which, the crab

remained still where he was. Hatim then addressed the monstrous

animal, saying, “Know you not that the oppressor shall fall by his own

deceit? Why then do you injure the nihang? Is there not room

sufficient for both of you in this river, that you should forcibly

take possession of another’s residence?” To this the crab replied,

“The nihang and I are of the same genus, what then has one of the

human race to say in any contention that may take place between

us?”--“There is some truth in your statement,” said Hatim, “but all

creatures have their being from God, who delighteth in justice and

punisheth the oppressor: if you fear him then, injure not a

fellow-creature.”--“Well,” replied the crab, “at present I shall quit

this place, rather than argue the point with you; but I shall meet the

nihang on some future day, when you are not at hand to lend your

aid.”--“Assuredly you are a mischievous animal,” rejoined Hatim; “but

if you value your own life, abandon this place forever.” The crab, on

hearing this, rushed upon Hatim, and was about to seize him in his

claws; but he struck him such a blow with the charmed staff of the

genius that his attack was rendered fruitless. The monstrous animal

turned and fled; and the nihang, taking courage, began to pursue him,

whereupon Hatim called out, “Desist, for to pursue him now is

cowardly, as his weapons are powerless; he will never hereafter annoy

you, and if you oppress him I shall put an end to your days.”

Hatim having settled the plea between the two inhabitants of the deep,

threw down his staff, which turned into a boat wherein he embarked,

and reaching the opposite shore of the water, he continued his journey

to Mazanderán. At length he arrived in that extensive wilderness, and

reclining in the shade of a tree he began to consider what would be

the best way of procuring the pariru. When the darkness of night had

fallen around him, several of these birds, that had been abroad in

search of food, came and perched upon the tree, and began to converse

among themselves: “Our solitary abode is visited by a man, Hatim ben

Taï; the object of his journey is to relieve the distressed: what

then are we to do?” All of them concurred in saying, “Hatim is a man

of the noblest disposition, and he must not leave us in

disappointment.” Having formed this resolution, the birds assembled

around Hatim, and in humble posture began to embrace his feet. When he

saw their wonderful form, he was highly astonished; for each of them

resembles an angel in beauty of countenance. Fascinated with the

charms of their fairy faces, he could not avoid exclaiming, “Gracious

heaven! how inscrutable are thy decrees, who hast formed such

creatures with bodies like those of birds, and countenances fair as

the Houris of paradise.”

Meanwhile the strange creatures, addressing Hatim in sweet flowing

language, said to him, “Oh, Hatim! may the fame of your generosity be

eternal; you have subjected yourself to toils and perils for the sake

of others. We know the cause of your journey hither: a certain youth

has become enamoured of the magician’s daughter; the father gives his

consent on certain conditions, one of which is, that he may have a

pair of our species, and you, regardless of danger, have come hither

on that account.”--“You say truly,” replied Hatim, “and if you will

allow me to take a pair of your young, it will be doing me the highest

favor; and it will also promote the suit of the despairing lover.”

They deliberated among themselves, saying, “Those of us that are fully

grown cannot be expected to go with this man: who is it, then, among

us that will present him with a pair of young ones? It will be a

service acceptable to God.”

Here one of the pariru birds said to Hatim: “Lo, I myself will give

you a pair of my own young, for the sake of that Being who bestoweth

all things; accept them, and take them with you wherever you please.”

Hatim joyfully received the young birds; and having passed the night

in that desert, he early next morning took leave of these wonderful

creatures, and began to retrace his way to the capital of the

magician. In the course of time, after he had traversed mountains and

deserts innumerable, he arrived at the spot where the young soldier

still lingered; and having presented to him the pariru birds, he said,

“Rejoice, my friend, for here you see what will fulfil one of the

magician’s conditions.” When the youth beheld the birds, he prostrated

himself in ecstasy at Hatim’s feet, saying, “My generous benefactor!

let us now proceed with these beautiful birds, and present them to the

magician.” Both of them set out accordingly, and by the way Hatim

related to his friend the occurrences of his journey, and the

situation of the desert of Mazanderán; and having handed to him the

pariru birds, he desired him to go himself and deliver them to

Musahhir, and mention nothing of having been assisted in procuring

them.

When they entered the city, Hatim stopped at a caravanseraï, and the

youth proceeded with the birds, and delivered them to the magician,

who was much surprised in seeing them, and questioned him, saying,

“Young man, is this your own doing? If so, tell me truly in what part

of the world are such birds to be found?” The youth, without

hesitation, replied, “In the desert of Mazanderán.” The magician then

asked him various particulars about the road thither, all of which he

was enabled to answer satisfactorily from what Hatim had told him.

“You are right,” said the magician: “so much for the first condition.

Now procure me the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon.” The

youth said, in reply, “Let me for one moment view the face of her whom

I adore, for otherwise I shall not have even the power of moving.” To

this the magician agreed, and sent a message to his daughter, desiring

her to hold her head out at the window, and favor her lover with one

look. The young man, in transports, presented himself under her

window, and the lady leaning out her head as permitted, cheered him

with her smiles. After they had viewed each other with the looks of

affection, the youth said, “Now I am about to depart in quest of the

muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon; can you inform me where

it is to be found?”--“I have heard,” replied the lady, “that it is in

the Red Desert, which is in the regions of the mountain Kaf.”

The youth, on hearing this, took leave of his beloved, and hastened to

Hatim, to whom he communicated all that had passed. Hatim comforted

him, and said, “Cease your weeping and lamentation, for I will use

every exertion for your relief: may God preserve you till my return.”

Having thus spoken, Hatim parted with his friend and began his journey

to the mountain Kaf. After he had passed many a stage he arrived in a

wilderness, where he one day at dawn espied a dragon streaked with the

seven colors of the rainbow, and having wings like those of an eagle,

with which he hovered over the desert.

On beholding this terrific sight, Hatim stood aghast, while he said in

his heart, “I have ere now traversed deserts and mountains like those

around me; but such a creature as this I never saw before: I must keep

a strict watch on his movements, in order to discover his haunt.”

Hatim followed the dragon for the whole of that day, and at eve the

winged monster took refuge in the cleft of a rock near which Hatim

also rested, resolved to observe the proceedings of so wonderful a

creature. In that same neighborhood there was a village, the

inhabitants of which were then coming out for water to a fountain

close by the rock. When they saw Hatim, they discovered that he was a

stranger, and hospitably offered him bread and water, on which he

fared; and on their inviting him to their village, he said he

preferred resting for the night beneath a tree close by.

Meanwhile the people returned to their dwellings, leaving their cows

and flocks at pasture on the verdant plain that lay at the foot of the

rock, where the shepherds also remained to tend them for the night. At

the end of the first watch, however, the winged serpent issued from

his haunt, and rushing upon the cattle, speedily killed them all, one

after another, with his venomous sting. Nor did his devastation there

stop, for on the same night he destroyed two troops of horses

belonging to a caravan that had halted at the fountain. When Hatim saw

this dreadful ravage he wrung his hands in agony, but lo! the dragon,

still thirsting for blood, approached the tree where he stood and in

an instant stung to death those who watched the caravan, and the

shepherds that were in attendance; after which, he again vanished into

the hole in the rock.

Hatim spent the remainder of the night in a state of sorrow and

amazement; and when the dawn of day appeared, the villagers came out

to look after their flocks, but to their astonishment they beheld the

plain strewed with the dead bodies of the shepherds and the carcases

of their cows and horses. So deadly was the venom of this monster,

that by the dawn of day the flesh was completely dissolved from off

the bones and converted into a liquid of green color. One of the

people conveyed the mournful tidings to the village, whereupon all the

inhabitants came out crying and weeping. On seeing Hatim they

addressed him, saying, “Tell us, stranger, how come you to be here

alive, and how has this terrible catastrophe taken place?”--“Alas! my

friends,” replied Hatim, “here I have witnessed most horrible deeds,

such as I never beheld or heard of in my whole life. A seven-colored

dragon, shaped as an eagle, has committed this slaughter, and retired

into a hole in the rock, where you may still see him.”

The people gathered round the mouth of the cavern, and on seeing the

dragon they were terrified, and said to one another, “Truly such a

formidable animal as this we never yet beheld.” Meanwhile the dragon

rushed from his hole in the rock, and seizing the chief of the village

pierced him with his envenomed sting till he rolled in the dust and

bade adieu to life, amidst the shrieks and tears of his friends and

attendants. The dragon then winged his way slowly towards the desert,

and Hatim followed close after him, in order to see what might happen

next. For the whole of that day he continued his pursuit, and when

evening was nigh the dragon halted near a large city while Hatim

watched him from a short distance. But the dragon had no sooner

touched the ground than he was transformed into a black snake, while

Hatim stood wrapt in astonishment, anxious to know what would be the

result of this change. The black serpent coiled himself into a hole

till the end of the first watch of the night, when he issued out and

made direct for the city, whither Hatim continued to follow. At length

the serpent arrived at the walls of the king’s palace, which he

entered by a certain staircase, and ere Hatim could follow, returned

by the same passage, and made for another house. In a very short time

the serpent came out of the latter house also, and quitting the city

retired to his hole. Hatim wondered in his mind who could have been

the victims of the scourge for that night. With the morning certainty

came, for the cries and lamentations of the people soon informed him

that the prince and vizier’s son were in the course of the night stung

to death by a serpent, and now lay stretched on the bier, and were

being conveyed to their graves.

In the course of the morning the black snake quit his hole, and made

off in another direction, Hatim following; nor for the whole day did

he cease his pursuit, till towards night the serpent came to the bank

of a river, where he assumed the form of a lion. It happened that

close by there was a village, the inhabitants of which, to the number

of ten or twelve, were proceeding, one after the other, to the river

to draw water, among them a most comely youth of the age of sixteen.

This youth, the flower of the village, the lion seized as his victim,

and having torn him to pieces, he again made for the desert, where, to

Hatim’s utter amazement, he was transformed into a beautiful damsel of

fourteen years of age. When Hatim beheld the damsel, he said in his

heart, “May heaven protect me! I wonder what is to happen next.”

The damsel in an instant arrayed herself in splendid apparel and

costly jewels, and, resembling the full moon in beauty, sat down

underneath a tree by the wayside. It happened that shortly after, two

brother soldiers, natives of China, who having completed their

stipulated period of service were returning loaded with wealth to

their own country, passed that way, and on seeing them the damsel

began a most piteous lamentation. When this voice of sorrow reached

their ears, the elder of the two brothers approached the tree, and to

his astonishment there beheld the most beautiful of women deeply

affected with grief. The soldier thus addressed the damsel: “Fairest

of women, what calamity has befallen thee that thou art thus forsaken

to weep and lament in the solitary desert?”--“I am,” replied the

damsel, “the wife of a villager: a few days ago I had gone on a visit

to my mother’s house, and in returning home along with my husband we

lost our way in this wilderness, where I have since wandered. I have

not been able to find the way back to my mother’s house, nor do I know

in what direction to proceed in quest of my husband or of my own home.

Whither my husband is gone heaven only knows; and now what is to

become of me, and how am I to live?” The brave soldier, on hearing

this sad detail, said to the young woman, “If I were to offer myself

as your husband, would you accept me?”--“If you will agree to my three

conditions,” answered the damsel, “I will give you my hand. The first

condition is, that you shall have no other wife than myself[b3.01];

the second, that I will be exempt from all household services; and the

third is, that you are not to reprimand me for anything I may choose

to do.” To this the soldier agreed, saying, “I am as yet unmarried,

and I promise to comply with all your conditions. While I live I shall

have no other wife but you; and in my house there are slaves male and

female in abundance, so that you will have no trouble with the

household affairs, except to give orders for whatever you wish. Your

last condition I believe is superfluous; is it possible that any man

can speak harshly to her whom he loves?” The damsel, on hearing this,

replied, “Enough, I will accept you as my husband,” and accordingly

they joined hands; after which the soldier mounted his steed, and

taking up his new wife behind him, departed. Hatim followed, in order

to see the end of these strange occurrences; and when they had gone

some distance, the woman said to her husband, “I am quite exhausted

with hunger and thirst, having tasted no food for the last three days;

if you have nothing eatable with you, at least let me have a drink of

water.” The soldier dismounted, and having caused his wife to alight,

he seated her under the shade of a tree, and he took a pitcher, and

went in search of water.

* * * *

When the woman arrived at the village, she assumed the form of a

buffalo; and the people attempting to seize her, she slew several of

them with her hoofs and horns, and again fled towards the desert.

Filled with wonder, Hatim closely followed this mysterious being, and

when arrived in the midst of the desert, lo! the buffalo was

transformed into a venerable old man with a white beard. On seeing

this last change, Hatim resolved to accost the old man, and ask him

the hidden cause of his evil deeds, and why he delighted in working

such havoc among God’s creatures. He accordingly made up to him at a

rapid pace, and stood by his side. The aged man turned and said,

“Speak, Hatim, whatever you wish to say.”--“Venerable sir,” replied

Hatim, “how came you to know my name?”--“If that be all,” replied the

old man, “I know the name of every individual in your tribe; but at

present, if you have any question to ask me make haste, for I have

much business in hand, and my time is precious.”

Hatim, without more delay, said to him, “Mysterious being! I first

beheld you in the shape of a dragon, when you filled with sorrow a

whole village; you afterwards assumed the form of a black snake, when

you laid in the dust the son of the king and that of his minister;

again, you transformed yourself into a lion, and tore to pieces a

youth the most elegant of form; you then became a beautiful damsel of

the age of fourteen, and by your perfidy caused the death of two

brothers; your next step was to adopt the shape of a buffalo, and you

slew the people of the village; you now appear an aged man: tell me,

for heaven’s sake, what are you, and whither are you going?” The old

man, with a haughty smile, replied, “What does all this concern you?

Follow your own business: you also I shall yet visit in some shape or

other, and your death will be the consequence.”

Hatim persisted, saying, “I will never quit my hold of your skirt till

you clear up to me this mystery.”--“Know, then,” said the old man,

“that I am the angel of death; the first day you saw me in the shape

of a dragon, it was the decree of the Almighty that those men and

beasts that were my victims should meet their death by that means.

Providence had foreordained that the young prince and the son of the

minister should die by the sting of a serpent, and I accordingly

assumed the form of a serpent. I became a lion, and slew the beautiful

youth; such was his fate. As to the two brothers, they were destined

to leave their homes and serve abroad, and after a certain period,

when they had earned and amassed some money, it was ordained that they

should proceed on their return to their own country, and in the course

of their journey that they should kill one another on account of a

woman; I therefore assumed the form of a woman to fulfil the divine

decree. In the village where you last saw me, it was the lot of the

people whom I slew to fall by a buffalo; I therefore became a buffalo

on that occasion. Be you assured, oh, Hatim! that it is not in the

power of one man to slay another; but in whatever way a man’s fate is

decreed, by that means only he loses his life.” Hatim, on hearing

this, asked the angel of death, “Tell me truly what fate is ordained

for me?” The aged man replied, “Suffice it to say that more than half

your life-time is yet to pass.”--“But,” rejoined Hatim, “may I not

learn from you the whole truth?”--“Know, then,” replied the king of

terrors, “that when you have attained the age of two hundred years,

you shall fall by the hand of Omnipotence. A stream of blood shall

flow from your nostrils, by which you will experience some slight

pain, and afterwards for a short time recover. In that period your

hand shall be stretched out as usual in deeds of charity to your

fellow-creatures; and shortly after, the flux of blood shall again

issue from your nostrils, and thus you shall die. Meanwhile a long

life is before you; go on, then, and shrink not from your noble task

of relieving the sorrows and promoting the happiness of mankind.”

When Hatim heard all this, he bent his head to the dust in prayer to

God, and when he arose, he looked around him, but the old man had

vanished from his sight. He then betook himself to the prosecution of

his journey towards the Red Desert, and in the course of a few months

he found himself far beyond the habitations of men, in the midst of a

wilderness where no water was to be found. Hungry and thirsty as he

was, he still continued his route, his whole subsistence consisting of

the wild fruits and weeds of the desert. In this way he journeyed for

some time, when lo! one day, to his utter astonishment, he came to a

place where the heavens and the earth wore a dark hue, and every

object he saw was black. This place was the abode of the black

serpents, which, when they scented Hatim, rushed upon him from all

quarters in order to devour him. He threw upon the ground the

talismanic staff of Mahyur the genius, and sat down upon it, safe by

its magic power. The serpents continued to rear their crests and with

a hissing noise to move round him in endless contortions the whole

night. When daylight appeared, he took his staff in his hand, and

continued his march secure from the venom of the snakes, and thus he

journeyed on till he reached the boundaries of the land of darkness.

Contiguous to this lay the white regions, which Hatim began to

explore. Here every object was possessed of the most brilliant

whiteness, so that the whole place seemed made of alabaster. At the

same time white serpents of prodigious size endeavored from a distance

to inhale him with their poisonous breath; but on account of his

charmed staff their efforts were of no avail, nor had they the power

of approaching him. In the course of a few days, Hatim succeeded in

making his way through these dangerous realms, and next arrived in a

region where every object he beheld was green as emerald. There, too,

abounded serpents of a green color, and when they saw Hatim they

quickly surrounded him, and were it not for the virtue of his

talisman, his days would have been short. Hatim, however, unhurt,

surmounted a thousand perils and difficulties as he travelled through

the evergreen regions; and at length he arrived in an extensive tract

of land, which to him seemed to be wrapt in flames, and this he knew

to be the Red Desert.

There every object was red as vermilion, and ere Hatim had advanced

many steps the heat became so intolerable that he almost lost the

power of walking. He thought within his heart that it would be

impossible to proceed any further; but, again, he said to himself:

“Oh, Hatim! in doing a good action, whatever happens, let it come,

even were the difficulties a thousand times more severe than the

present.” By the time he had advanced a farasang his feet were full of

blisters, and his thirst was so excessive that he was compelled to

rest at every step.

“Now,” thought Hatim, “my dying hour is come; if I wished to return, I

have not even the power; and if I advance, I shall assuredly perish.

But at the same time I cannot live here.” Having made this resolution,

he continued to move slowly onwards, till by the time he had advanced

another farasang, he became exhausted, and his thirst was so extreme

that he sunk upon the ground and lay like one dead, his whole body

covered with blisters.

While he lay senseless in this state, an aged man came up to him, and

seizing his hand, raised him from the earth, and said to him, “Oh,

Hatim! here you have no cause for despair; why do you not avail

yourself of the talisman given you by the bear’s daughter?” Hatim

collected his scattered senses, and speedily producing the talisman

put it in his mouth, which was no sooner done than the heat of the Red

Desert ceased to oppress him, and his blisters were healed. Hatim then

prostrated himself at the feet of his aged monitor, and said, “Most

venerable sir, tell me what is the cause of this excessive heat?” The

old man replied, “This heat is caused by the red serpents that haunt

the desert. They are of immense size, and from their mouths they

breathe volumes of flame and clouds of smoke, hence the fiery hue of

every object you behold.” Hatim, however, secure under the effects of

the talisman which he carried in his mouth, went fearlessly on, and

felt not the least inconvenience from the scorching heat.

When he had penetrated as far as the centre of the Red Desert, the

fire-breathing serpents espied him, and began to rear their heads and

crests aloft like tall trees. From their nostrils issued streams of

flame as it were from a furnace, and with tremendous hissing they

assailed him on all sides, intending to scorch him to death and reduce

his bones to ashes. But owing to the charmed muhra of the bear’s

daughter, the attack of the snakes fell upon Hatim like a current of

cool water. Meanwhile the serpents increased in number, and were about

to overpower him with their pestiferous and scorching breath. He at

last threw upon the ground the magic staff of Mahyur, the king of the

genii, and such was its wonderful effect, that when he stood upon it

no snake could come within reach of him. The serpents overawed,

remained at a distance; and notwithstanding their utmost efforts for

the whole of that night, they were not able to do him the least harm.

When daylight appeared, Hatim observed that the largest of the red

serpents had in its mouth the muhra which he wished to procure, but

never allowed it to drop upon the ground. He took his magic staff, and

aiming it at the head of the serpent, struck it such a blow as made it

recoil upon itself and roll amidst the dust. There the snake lay

stunned till the sun arose, when it revived, and dropping the muhra,

slowly dragged itself to its den. Hatim quickly ran to take up his

treasure, but from its brilliant appearance he hesitated to lay hold

of it, thinking that it was as hot as fire. He stood for some time

viewing the muhra, and at length he tore a piece of cloth from his

turban, and by way of experiment placed it upon the shining jewel.

When he observed that the cloth was not burnt, he ventured to take the

muhra in his hand and carefully wrapped it in a fold of his turban.

The moment Hatim had the muhra in his possession, he was surprised in

finding that the heat of the desert no longer remained, and the

objects around him assumed a verdant hue. Now this muhra was possessed

of the rarest qualities, to the number of a thousand and one, of which

we may mention the following:--The first was, that the possessor of it

should never be drowned; the second, that he should be secured from

any bad effects of fire; the third quality that was inherent in this

pearl was, that it restored sight to the blind; the fourth, that it

cured the bite of a snake or any other venomous creature; the fifth,

he who had it with him in war was sure of obtaining victory; the

sixth, he should be endeared alike to friend and foe; the seventh, all

four-footed and winged animals should be obedient to his commands; the

eighth was, that he should excel in wisdom; the ninth, that his wealth

should be boundless; but it would be tedious to detail the whole.

In fine, Hatim returned with the muhra, and in the course of time he

came to the place where he left the young soldier. He saluted him, and

resigning the precious treasure into his hands, he said to him, “Go

now and present this to the magician.” The young man prostrated

himself at the feet of Hatim, and the latter having raised him up,

related to him all the occurrences of his journey, and described to

him the regions of the serpents. The two friends then proceeded

together to the capital of the magician, and the youthful soldier

having obtained an interview of his Majesty, presented him with the

muhra, in the procuring of which, he stated, that he had undergone a

thousand toils, and encountered perils innumerable. “That,” replied

the magician, “I shall soon put to the proof.”--“With all my heart,”

said the youth; and accordingly the magician commenced a strict

inquiry respecting the Red Desert, the serpents, and the other

particulars, all of which the soldier answered to his satisfaction.

The magician, highly delighted with the treasure he thus possessed,

said to the young man, “There now remains only one task to be

accomplished, which is, that you will plunge bare of your clothing

into a cauldron full of boiling oil; are you prepared to comply with

the same?” The youth replying in the affirmative, the magician issued

orders to his people to place the iron cauldron on the furnace, fill

it with oil, and with a strong fire heat the same till it boiled. The

attendants of the magician immediately executed this order, and so

heated the oil that if a stone were cast into it, it would have

instantly dissolved. Meanwhile the soldier returned to Hatim, and said

to him, “Alas, my benefactor! I have yet to fulfil the severest of his

Majesty’s conditions. He expects me to cast myself into a cauldron

full of boiling oil, and if I come out unhurt, I am to be honored with

the hand of his daughter. But, I would ask you, is it in the power of

mortal man to undergo such an ordeal, and escape with life?”

“Be not disheartened,” said Hatim; “even in this conjuncture I can

ensure your success.” He then produced the talisman of the bear, and

presenting it to the young soldier, he said to him, “Take this muhra

in your mouth, and you may without the least hesitation cast yourself

into the boiling liquid.” The youth, still incredulous, shuddered at

the idea; and Hatim swore to him by all that was sacred that he should

come by no harm. The soldier at length took the talisman as advised,

and having ascended the steps that led to the mouth of the boiler, he

looked at the burning liquid foaming furiously like a troubled sea,

and all firmness left his heart. Hatim then exclaimed to him, “Are you

a man? Is such fear consistent with your love?” When the young soldier

heard this from Hatim, he hesitated no longer, but shutting his eyes

threw himself into the midst of the boiler. To his surprise, the oil

that had been heated to the utmost had no more effect upon him than

cool water. He walked slowly from one side of the boiler to the other,

and in presence of the magician began to lift in his hands the fiery

liquid and sprinkle it on his body. When some time had elapsed, the

soldier thus addressed the magician, “Most mighty king, what is your

decision now? Shall I come out or remain here longer?” When the king

saw that the soldier still lived, he held down his head in

thoughtfulness, and a trembling seized his soul, as he said, “Young

man, I am satisfied; come out at once.” But no sooner had the soldier

accomplished this third task, than the magician, unwilling to fulfil

his promise, began to assail him with enchantment. Hatim, however,

came to his assistance, and warned the king of the magicians, saying,

“Your arts are of no effect upon this youth, for he has a talisman

more potent than the muhra of the red serpent; you must therefore

fulfil what you have promised him.” The magician, thus surpassed in

his art, embraced the young soldier as a sign of friendship, and

having made the necessary preparations, gave him his daughter in

marriage, and with the utmost suavity said to him, “Now, my son, you

are to consider all my wealth as your own, for I have no other male

heir on whom to bestow it.”

When Hatim saw the two lovers united in wedlock, he took leave of the

happy bridegroom, and departed in prosecution of his journey. In the

course of time he arrived at the foot of the mountain Alka, which was

so high that none of the feathered tribes had wings sufficient to

reach its summit. There he halted for a moment, in order to consider

what course to take, and said in his heart, “Of whom can I receive

information respecting this strange place, and who shall direct me on

my way?” While these reflections occupied his mind, he espied a troop

of beautiful fairies tripping along the brow of the mountain, and

without further delay he followed them. After he had traced the

fairies to some distance up the hill, they suddenly disappeared and

left him in solitude. Hatim, astonished, looked around him, and saw in

the side of the mountain a cave, which seemed to be formed from a

solid rock of marble. The entrance into it was a steep descent into

the bowels of the earth along the marble rock, which was as smooth as

glass. Hatim hesitated whether he should enter, as egress seemed to be

impossible; for no human foot could rest upon this steep and slippery

path.

On further consideration, however, Hatim resolved to enter; and having

laid himself upon the smooth stone, he let go his hold and commenced

his rapid descent. For the whole of that day he continued to slide

downwards, and at evening he found himself landed on level ground.

There he opened his eyes, and beheld around him an extensive field

delightful to the sight. He rose up and sought a place wherein to

repose till day, when he resolved to go in quest of the fairies, as he

had reason to suppose that they too had descended into the cave. When

the darkness of night had withdrawn, Hatim began to traverse those

strange regions, and had not gone far when an edifice of splendid

appearance met his view. This was nothing less than the palace of the

fairies, and thither he directed his steps. When he approached the

mansion, the fairies observed him, and cried out, “Are you aware, son

of Adam, that these are our regions, not yours? how came you here, and

who has been your conductor?”--“He who has ever been my guide,”

replied Hatim, “conducted me hither.”--“And how,” rejoined the

fairies, “did you discover the descent into this subterraneous

abode?”--“I saw you,” he replied; “as you passed along the mountain,

and followed you till you vanished from my sight; on searching around

me, however, I observed the entrance into the cave, and laying myself

on the smooth inclined stone, my descent was rapid. Now that I have

found you, tell me what is the name of this region, and who is its

sovereign?”

“This,” replied the fairies, “is the mountain of Alka, and the

sovereign of these realms is Alkanpari. We are the guardians of this

paradise, where our fairy queen resides during the season of spring,

and to-morrow we expect her arrival here to enjoy the delights of the

garden. Our permitting you to remain then is impossible, for it would

be death both to ourselves and you; but now that you are here you must

be ruled by us, and we will save your life, for we bear you no

enmity.” To this Hatim answered, “Whither can I flee for refuge, for

verily there is no escape; and besides, I have undergone all the toils

and perils of my journey in order to obtain an interview with your

queen, who is now so opportunely about to visit this garden; I will

therefore remain here, happen what will.”--“And what,” said the

fairies, “may be your business with our gracious queen? You are a poor

man, and she is sovereign of the fairy realms.”--“Have you never

heard,” replied Hatim, “of a fairy’s being in love with one of the

human race, or of a man’s being enamoured of a fairy?”--“In truth,”

rejoined the fairies, “you seem to be weary of your own life, to utter

such language in our presence.”--“You may judge,” said Hatim, “how

little I care for my life by my venturing hither.”

On hearing this reply, all the fairies rushed upon Hatim and began to

assail him; but he stood firm, and neither warded off nor returned

their blows. His assailants ceased from their attacks, and wondered in

their own minds what sort of a man he was that would neither fight nor

run away: they therefore, relenting, said to him, “Strange youth, we

warn you, out of compassion, to remain no longer here; this place is

not fitted for your residence, and if you disregard our advice, it

will be at the risk of your life.” To this Hatim replied, “I am not

afraid of death, for I had freed myself from the love of life, and

placed my reliance upon the supreme Creator, ere I entered your

territories.” The fairies, pleased with his courage, addressed Hatim

in a tone of reconciliation, and said, “O youth, eloquent of speech,

come with us, and we shall conceal you in a secret avenue; and if you

are anxious to behold our queen Alkanpari, we shall point her out to

you from a distance.”

Hatim expressed his consent; and the fairies conveying him to an

unfrequented part of the garden gave him food and fruits wherewith to

appease his hunger, and brought him water to drink. Charmed with his

society, they crowded around him, and after various conversation, they

said to him, “Tell us truly, brave youth, what has been the object of

your journey hither?” Hatim replied, “My business with your queen is

this: she once had an interview with a young friend of mine; and left

him at a certain tree, with a promise that she would return to him in

the space of seven days. The youth has now waited there upwards of

seven years in expectation of the fulfilment of her promise; his soul

is on the eve of quitting his body. At short intervals, he exclaims,

‘_Come, oh come! for I can no longer endure thy absence._’ I happened

to observe his miserable plight, and twice to no purpose I asked him

the cause of his sorrow: at length, finding that I persisted in my

inquiries, he told me the whole occurrence. On hearing his tale, my

heart glowed with pity; and for the sake of affording him relief, I

have journeyed hither. My object is to remind your queen of her

promise, as it is most likely that she has ere now forgotten it.”

When the fairies heard this statement, they said to Hatim, “Generous

man, we dare not take upon ourselves to represent your case to our

queen, but we can carry you bound as captive before her, and then you

can exert all your eloquence in behalf of your friend. Were we to

introduce you designedly to her Majesty, we should incur her

displeasure.”--“Let me be presented to your queen,” rejoined Hatim,

“in whatever way is most convenient to you; when once in her presence,

I shall know how to proceed. I shall consider myself happy if I can

promote the suit of my helpless and despairing friend.”

In the course of three days, the queen, accompanied by troops of

fairies, issued from her palace, and proceeded towards the garden

where Hatim lay concealed. At length, she arrived in that paradise,

and after she had rested a little, and received the homage of her

subjects there, one of the fairies who were friendly to Hatim went to

him privately, and said, “Come with me, and I will point out to you

our queen, where you may behold her unobserved.” Hatim followed the

fairy, who led him by a private path to the entrance of a grotto close

to the spot where the queen was seated on her throne of gold. When

Hatim beheld her angelic form, he lost hold of the reins of reason.

For some time he lay senseless; and when consciousness returned into

his frame, in vain did he betake himself to prayer, and endeavor to

flee unto the Lord for protection. In fact, he became more frantic and

more enamoured of the beautiful fairy than the youth whose cause he

had undertaken. Hatim thus spent three days and nights, forgetful of

his friend, and regardless of food and drink. On the fourth night a

feverish sleep overpowered his eyelids, and in his confused slumbers

he heard a voice exclaiming, “Oh, Hatim! arise and know thyself; hast

thou not devoted thy life to the service of thy Creator, and wilt thou

now permit thyself to be guilty of a breach of trust?”

On hearing this warning voice, Hatim awoke from his dream, but saw no

one near him. He rose up, and with fear and trembling prayed to God to

forgive his transgressions, and support him in this hour of trial. On

seeing some of the fairies, he entreated them to conduct him before

the queen. They told him, as formerly, “We dare not openly comply with

your request, but we can carry you into the royal presence with your

hands bound as a prisoner.”--“In whatever way you choose,” said Hatim,

“present me to her Majesty, that I may describe to her the condition

of my despairing friend.” The fairies made their arrangements, and

having found a favorable moment when the queen was in a joyous mood,

they approached her Highness by the garden gate; and one of them

advancing, after due obeisance said, “O queen, one of the race of Adam

has somehow found his way to the gate of our paradise; we have bound

him fast, and are waiting your Majesty’s pleasure as to his future

disposal.”

On hearing this, the fairy queen thought of her lover, whom she had

left under the tree, and considered it as likely that the youth had

thus traced her to her abode; she therefore ordered her attendants to

conduct their prisoner into her presence. The fairies accordingly laid

hold of Hatim, and were bringing him forward to the foot of the

throne. When the queen beheld his majestic mien, all thoughts of her

former lover vanished. She desired him to approach, and having ordered

for him a chair of burnished gold, she took him by the hand, and made

him sit near her. The fairy queen then addressing Hatim, said, “Tell

us, noble youth, whence came you, and what is your name; what has been

your object in coming hither, and how have you been able to accomplish

the journey?” Hatim, now seated before the beautiful fairy, became

speechless, and was unable to give any reply. The queen observed his

confusion, and secretly rejoiced to find that the arrow of her

enchanting glances had pierced his heart. In accents of extreme

affection, she again said to him, “Brave youth, what is the cause of

your silence; have you nothing to say in reply?” Hatim, at length,

rallied his thoughts, and said, “O queen, my answer is brief; I came

from the country of Yemen, and my name is Hatim.”

The moment the queen heard this, she gracefully arose, and taking

Hatim by the hand, seated him on her own throne, saying, “I have ere

now heard of Hatim, prince of Yemen; numerous indeed, brave prince,

are the acts of kindness and generosity which you have done to your

fellow-creatures; but tell me now the cause of your coming hither, and

why you have undergone such toils and perils. Be assured that I am one

of your admirers, so you may freely speak your thoughts without fear

of giving offence.”

Hatim, thus encouraged, spoke: “O queen of the fairy realms, your

kindness is beyond measure: had I a thousand tongues I should still be

unable to celebrate your noble qualities. Be it known, then, that I

have come before your Majesty in the fulfilment of a promise which I

made to a certain enamoured swain. It happened, as I was journeying to

the desert of Himyar, that I passed by a young man, from whose eyes

flowed tears like a shower from the clouds in spring. Owing to his

intense sorrow and lamentation, his soul was almost driven from his

body; indeed, I question if he now lives. There he lay with his eyes

shut, exclaiming in the intervals of his sighs, ‘_Come, oh come! for I

can no longer endure thy absence._’ I asked him the cause of his

sorrow, and how he had been reduced into so miserable a state. After

some hesitation he told me all: how your Majesty had met with him, and

shewed him affection and kindness. ‘Alkanpari,’ said the wailing

youth, ‘promised me at her departure to return in seven days; and now

for seven long years I have waited in misery and woe, expecting her

return. Here I cannot remain, and hence I dare not depart; for when my

angel left me, she laid upon me strict injunctions to move not hence;

I cannot, then, disobey her command, and proceed in search of her. If

fate has decreed that we should again meet, it must be on this spot.’

When I saw the woful condition of this wretched man, and found that

his love was sincere, I deferred the prosecution of my own journey,

and hastened hither. I hope, then, your Majesty will treat with

kindness and compassion the despairing lover. This will lay the

highest obligation on me, the humblest of your slaves.”

To this Alkanpari said, in reply, “Generous prince of Arabia! I had

entirely forgotten the circumstance you mention, till my people

informed me of your arrival here; and then I thought it probable that

you might be my former lover. However, the moment I saw you, I found

that you were not the man; and now I confess to you that he is

unworthy of my regard. His love for me must be very cool indeed,

since, out of pure timidity, he has lingered seven years in one spot,

and has not had the courage to venture hither in quest of me. I

pointed out to him the road, and told him my own name and that of the

mountain which I inhabit, and had he been a true lover, he would have

followed me, were it at the peril of his life.”

Hatim, in favor of the young man, rejoined, “Had his passion been

otherwise than sincere, he could not have so drunk of the cup of

affection nor have undergone such misery from the remembrance of you.

You exacted from him a solemn promise at parting, and how could the

poor lover act contrary to your commands? The enamoured youth is

conscious of his own integrity, for when you departed you strictly

enjoined him to remain underneath the tree till your arrival, and

accordingly he has not stirred thence till now, lest in his absence

you should return and not find him; in which case he would stand

convicted of having disobeyed your orders, and thus incur your

displeasure.”

The fairy queen lent a deaf ear to all that he could urge, and utterly

disowned her former lover. Hatim however, persevered, saying, “For

heaven’s sake let my labor not be in vain; consider through what toils

and hardships I have accomplished my journey hither.”--“Well,” replied

the queen relenting, “I cannot refuse what you request; this youth I

will permit to come near me, but I will neither associate with him nor

consider him as a companion.”--“And why not,” said Hatim, “accept him

as your lover? What is the cause of such a change of mind?”--“Such is

my pleasure,” replied the queen, “and it shall not be otherwise.”--“If

such be your resolution,” rejoined Hatim, “I will stand fasting at

your gates; and, till the hand of death seize me, I will night and day

complain to heaven of your cruelty.”

Having thus spoken, he quitted the presence of the fairy queen, and

having removed underneath the shade of a tree, there he remained for

seven days without tasting food or drinking water. On the eighth

night, as he fell asleep, an old man appeared to him in a dream, and

said, “Brave Hatim, be of good cheer; this beautiful fairy has more

than one lover that laments her treachery: but you must first bring

your friend hither, and then cause him to take the talisman given you

by the bear’s daughter, and steep it in a goblet full of pure water.

This draught will then ferment into a sherbet, and you must contrive

that the queen shall drink of it, which, God willing, will be the

means of restoring her affection.”

Hatim awoke from his dream, and as he was meditating on what had

occurred, the dawn appeared. Meanwhile, approached the fairy queen:

she stood before him, and said, “O Hatim, why do you thus persist in

rejecting my hospitality? If you perish from want at my gates, shall

I not on the day of judgment be arraigned as the cause of your death,

and what will be my answer before the Supreme Judge?”--“O queen,” said

Hatim in reply, “let me prevail on you to send for my love-sick

friend, that he may be blessed even with the sight of your

countenance.”--“Assuredly,” replied the queen, “I have no objection

whatever to his being near me.”

When Hatim heard this, he made preparations to return for his friend;

but the fairy queen said to him, “You need not, Hatim, expose yourself

to the perils of such a journey a second time; my fairies will do the

work much more speedily.” Her Majesty then summoned a few of her

subjects, and despatched them in quest of her lover, saying, “On the

brow of a certain mountain, reclining underneath a tree, you will find

a young man bewailing the cruelty of his mistress. Tell him that

Alkanpari requests his immediate attendance; that she has been

reminded of her promise to him by Hatim, prince of Yemen.”

The fairies, with the speed of the wind, transported themselves to the

spot where the youth lay, and delivered to him the orders of their

mistress. Joyfully he heard the message, and expressed his obligations

to the generous Hatim. The fairies then carried him along with them,

and in the course of that same day presented him to Alkanpari their

sovereign, which rendered his happiness complete. For some minutes his

eyes were fixed on the beautiful fairy, till at length his senses

forsook him and he fell lifeless upon the ground. The queen sprinkled

some fragrant attar of roses on his face; and as soon as he recovered,

she addressed him in the accents of kindness, saying, “Enamoured

youth! I permit you to remain near me, and you may feast your eyes by

beholding me as long as you please.” For the whole of that day the

lover looked at nothing but the beautiful fairy, the fire of whose

eyes consumed his heart. When the mantle of night was spread over

them, the queen gave a signal, and troops of fairies entered, some

with lights and music, to whose harmonious sounds the others danced.

Amidst this scene of joy, Hatim saw that the fairy queen paid not the

least regard to the sufferings of his friend. He went near the latter

and said, “Despair not; take this muhra and immerse it for a few

minutes in a cup full of pure water, which you shall pour into the

goblet from which the queen is wont to drink: this done, return and

take up your station here.” The young man did as Hatim directed him;

and after he had mixed the elixir, and poured the same into the

queen’s goblet, one of the fairies happened to observe him, and said,

“Base mortal! how dare you touch the goblet of her Highness?”

The youth assured the fairy that he merely wished for some water to

drink, as he felt very thirsty. The fairy immediately gave him a drink

of water from another cup, and sent him back to his former station.

Hatim was an anxious spectator of the occurrence; and when he saw that

his friend had succeeded according to his wish, he approached the

queen’s throne, and said to her, “Will your Majesty be pleased to

drink some sherbet, as the weather is warm?” The queen expressed her

assent, and ordered her attendants to bring some. Hatim, however,

undertook to be cup-bearer himself on the occasion; and having with

his own hands prepared the sherbet, he brought the goblet to the

queen. Her Majesty was about to hand the draught to some of her

intimate friends who were then with her, but Hatim observed that the

laws of courtesy required that the queen should drink first, and then

such of her friends as she might deem proper to honor with the goblet.

The fairy queen drank copiously of the sherbet. In an instant the

reins of her heart fell from her hands, and she became deeply

enamoured of the dying swain. Pierced with the darts of love, she rose

up in order to fly to his arms, while Hatim secretly rejoiced to see

her affection thus restored. He also stood up, and said to her, “O

queen of the fairy realms, how comes it that you are now so kindly

disposed towards your lover, who had almost become a martyr to your

cruelty during the long period of your absence?”--“O Hatim!” replied

the queen, “all this mischief is of your doing; however, I forgive

you, and this youth I will accept as my husband, agreeably to your

desire: at the same time I dare not take so important a step without

the consent of my parents.”

Having thus spoken, the fairy queen, accompanied by her select guards,

flew with the swiftness of thought to her principal residence in the

mountain of Alka. There she first waited on her mother, who said to

her in surprise, “My dear daughter, six months are yet to pass of the

period you proposed to reside in the gardens; why return you then at

this unseasonable hour of midnight?” The beautiful Alkanpari stood

speechless, and motioned to her attendants to explain the cause of her

visit. They stated that the fairy queen had fallen in love with a

youth of the race of Adam, and that the flame was mutual; that the

lovers had met upwards of seven years past, but that the queen had for

a long period abandoned her swain to the pangs of absence and despair,

till lately he found means of discovering her residence; and that she

is now willing to accept him as her husband, provided she obtain the

consent of her parents.

The mother, immediately on hearing this, went and represented the

affair to the father, who said in reply, “If such be the wish of our

daughter, I am satisfied; why should we prevent her?” The queen having

received the consent of her parents, immediately sent messengers for

her lover and Hatim, who were soon in attendance. When they arrived at

the palace, the beautiful queen presented the young man to her mother.

The mother commended him to the father, who without more delay made

preparations for the marriage, and according to the usages of the

fairy race, gave the hand of his daughter to Hatim’s friend.

When the enamoured pair were thus joined in the bands of wedlock, the

young man in grateful terms expressed his obligations to Hatim, who

remained with him seven days, and then took leave, in order to

prosecute his journey. When about to depart, the queen inquired of

Hatim to what part of the world he intended to travel; and when he

told her, “To the mountains of Himyar,” she said to him, “Noble Hatim,

give yourself no concern about your journey; Himyar is indeed a long

way off, but my fairies shall convey you thither with the utmost

speed.”

The queen summoned a few of her subjects, and gave them her

instructions respecting the mountain of Himyar. They then placed Hatim

on a howdah, and carried him through the air with such speed that in

the course of twenty-four hours they laid him down at the wished-for

stage. Hatim had no sooner arrived than he heard the voice of the man

who exclaimed, “_Do evil to no one; if you do, evil will overtake

you._”

When Hatim heard this welcome sound, he requested the fairies to leave

him, as he now considered himself at the end of his journey, and had

occasion to stay for some time in these parts. The fairies accordingly

took their leave and departed, while Hatim proceeded in the direction

of the voice which had struck his ear. He had not far advanced when he

observed an old man confined in a cage which was suspended to the

branch of a tree. Hatim stood silent for a short time viewing with

wonder the inmate of the cage, who once more exclaimed, “_Do evil to

none; if you do, evil will overtake you._”

Hatim went close to the prisoner, and said to him, “Tell me,

unfortunate man, what mean these words which you utter; and why are

you confined in this cage, and suspended to the branch of the

tree?”--“Ask me no questions,” replied the old man, “unless you wish

to mend my condition and afford me relief. If you desire to hear my

secrets, you must give me a sacred promise that you will not

communicate the same to any one else.” To this Hatim assented, saying,

“I give you my promise, and I am ready to confirm it by oath.” The old

man then proceeded with his history: “I am by occupation a merchant,

and my name is Hamir. When I became of age, my father had finished the

building of this city, and he called the same after my name. Shortly

after, my father departed on a sea voyage, and left me in charge of

the city. I was a free-hearted youth, and in a short time expended all

the property left under my care by my father. Thus I became surrounded

with poverty and want; and as I knew that my father had hidden

treasures somewhere in his house, I resolved to discover them if

possible. I searched everywhere, but found nothing; and to complete my

woe, I received the news of my father’s death, the ship in which he

sailed being wrecked.

“One day as I was sauntering, mournful and dejected, through the

bazar, I espied a learned man who cried out, ‘If any one has lost his

money by theft or otherwise, my knowledge of the occult sciences

enables me to recover the same, but on condition that I receive

one-fourth of the amount.’ When I heard this proclamation, I

immediately approached the man of science, and stated to him my

condition, and how I had been reduced from affluence to poverty. The

sage undertook to restore my wealth, and above all to discover the

treasures concealed in my father’s house. I conducted him to my house

and showed him every apartment, which he carefully examined one after

another. At length by his art he discovered the stores we were in

search of; and when I saw the gold and silver and other valuables,

which exceeded calculation, the demon of fraud entered my heart, and I

refused to fulfil my promise of giving a fourth of the property to the

man of wisdom. I offered him only a few small pieces of silver;

instead of accepting which, he stood for a few moments in silent

meditation, and with a look of scorn, said, ‘Do I thus receive the

fourth part of your treasure, which you agreed to give me? Base man,

of what perjury are you guilty!’

“On hearing this I became enraged; and having struck him several blows

on the face, I expelled him from my house. In a few days, however, he

returned, and so far ingratiated himself into my confidence that we

became intimate friends; and night and day he displayed before my

sight the various hidden treasures contained within the bowels of the

earth. One day I asked him to instruct me in this wonderful science,

to which he answered, that no instruction was requisite. ‘Here,’ said

he, ‘is a composition of collyrium, and whoever applies the same to

his eyes, to him all the wealth of this world will become

visible.’--‘Most learned sir,’ I replied, ‘if you will anoint my eyes

with this substance, I promise to share with you the half of all such

treasures as I may discover.’--‘I agree,’ said my friend, ‘meanwhile

let us retire to the desert, where we shall be free from

interruption.’

“We immediately set out, and when we arrived here, I was surprised at

seeing this cage, and asked my companion whose it was. I received for

answer, that it belonged to no one. Then we both sat down at the foot

of this tree, and the sage having produced the collyrium from his

pocket, began to apply it to my eyes. But, alas! no sooner had he

applied this composition than I became totally deprived of sight. In a

voice of sorrow I asked him why he had thus treated me, and he

replied, ‘Such is the reward of treachery; and if you wish to recover

your sight, you must for some time undergo penance in this cage. You

must utter no complaint, and you shall exclaim from time to time, “_Do

no evil to any one; if you do, evil will befall you._”’

“I entreated the sage to relieve me, saying, ‘You are a mere mortal

like myself, and dare you thus torment a fellow-creature? How will you

account for your deeds to the Supreme Judge?’ He answered, ‘_This is

the reward of your treachery._’ Seeing him inexorable, I begged of him

to inform me when and how my sight was to be restored; and he told me

that a noble youth should one day visit me, and to him I was to make

known my condition, and further state, that in the desert of Himyar

there is a certain herb called the flower of light, which the youth

was to procure and apply to my eyes, by means of which my sight should

be restored.

“It is now nearly three years since he left me in this prison, which,

though wide open, I cannot quit. Whenever I attempt to leave my

confinement, I feel the most excruciating pain in my limbs, so that I

have not the power of moving, and thus I am compelled to remain. One

day, shortly after my companion left me, I reflected in my own mind

that I could do nothing for myself while I continued like a bird in

this cage, and accordingly I resolved to quit it at all hazards; but

the moment I was outside of it, the pain that seized my whole body

almost killed me. I immediately returned into my prison, and have

since that time resigned myself to my fate, exclaiming at stated times

the words which have already attracted your attention. Many people

have in the meantime passed by me; but on hearing my condition, they

left me as they found me, without administering to my relief. To-day

you have added one more to the number of my visitors: may I ask

whether you intend to assist me?”

When Hatim heard this account from the man in the cage, he said to

him, in reply, “My friend, be of good cheer, I will instantly endeavor

to effect your release”; and without further delay, he proceeded to

the desert in search of the flower of light. We have already stated,

that the fairies that had conveyed him thither, returned, at his own

request, to fairy-land; but when they came before Alkanpari, her

Highness immediately ordered them back to attend upon Hatim while in

the desert of Himyar, and afterwards to conduct him in safety to

Shahabad. Accordingly when Hatim entered the desert he was surprised

at again meeting the fairies. They also recognized Hatim, and having

stated the whole occurrence, offered him their services, and requested

to know whither he was going. “I am going,” replied Hatim, “in search

of the flower of light, which grows somewhere in this desert.”--“We

shall soon carry you to the spot,” replied the fairies; “at least we

can show you from a distance the field where that plant is found; if

you return thence with life, we are in attendance in order to convey

you to your own country; and should aught evil befall you in your

present enterprise, we shall carry the intelligence of it to our

mistress.”--“And why,” said Hatim, “will you not accompany me all the

way?”--“Our approaching the spot,” replied the fairies, “is useless,

and maybe fatal. When this flower is in bloom, the field where it

grows is illumined as it were with brilliant lamps; the beautiful

light which it emits is such that you will easily see the object of

your search; but, on the other hand, around those flowers are

stationed thousands of horrible snakes, poisonous scorpions, and other

formidable creatures without number, so that even the fowls of heaven

cannot approach the deadly spot.”--“Conduct me thither,” rejoined

Hatim, “and leave me to manage the rest.”

The fairies lifted Hatim from the ground, and having swiftly traversed

the air for the space of seven days, they alighted with him about the

time of midnight in an extensive plain. He then asked them to point

out to him the flower which he was so eager to pluck, but they told

him that the season when it should be in bloom had not yet arrived. He

therefore resolved to remain there till the appointed time, and

meanwhile the fairies plentifully supplied him from all quarters with

food to eat, and fruit and water wherewith to quench his thirst. In a

short time the flowers of light began to blossom in the field, each of

them brilliant as a lamp, so that the whole plain became a blaze of

light. The breezes that blew over the desert were loaded with the

sweetest perfume.

Meanwhile serpents, scorpions, and beasts of prey without number,

issued from the bosom of the earth, and completely surrounded the

illumined flowers. The fairies stood aghast, and Hatim observing their

terror, said to them, “Do you keep aloof here so as to be out of

danger; I have placed my reliance upon God, and whatever may happen, I

will not shrink from my enterprise.” Hatim having made this

resolution, took in his hand the talisman of the bear’s daughter, and

fearlessly advancing into the midst of the field, he plucked three of

the largest and most brilliant flowers, and returned unhurt to his

guides. The fairies were astonished at this daring feat, and looked on

Hatim as a being far beyond their comprehension. Obedient to his sign,

they raised him upon their shoulders, and swiftly winged their way

through the air to that part of the desert where Hamir was imprisoned.

Hatim approached him, and said, “Be not sad, my friend, behold the

flower which you say will restore your sight.” The blind man expressed

his thanks to heaven, and said to Hatim, “Brave youth, be pleased to

compress the stalk with your own hands, so that the juice of it may

drop into my eyes.” Hatim untied the cage from the branch of the tree,

and having released the inmate, he applied the liquid to his eyes as

directed. Having repeated this process three times, the blind Hamir at

length opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, fell at his feet and offered

him a profusion of thanks. Hatim kindly raising him up, said, “My good

friend, why make so many acknowledgments? I have devoted myself to the

service of my Creator, and I consider the performance of charitable

deeds as the most lasting felicity.”

The man addressing Hatim in return, said, “Generous prince! my house

abounds with gold and silver and all worldly wealth; accept, then,

such portion of it as you may deem proper.”--“Truly, sir,” replied

Hatim, “worldly wealth is of no use to me, for already I possess far

more than is sufficient for me; I may advise you, however, to expend

your treasures in such manner as may be acceptable to God, in the

bestowing of food upon the hungry, and in clothing those who are

naked.”

Here Hatim took his leave of the old man of the desert, and having

mounted his howdah, the fairies carried him through the air with such

swiftness that in a few days he arrived in Shahabad. He dismounted at

the gates of the city, and the fairies, when about to return,

requested of him to favor them with a letter to their queen,

certifying his safe arrival. To this, Hatim readily agreed, whereupon

his aerial guides took their leave and departed. He no sooner entered

the city than Husn Banu’s people recognized him, and with the utmost

promptness conducted him before their sovereign lady. Husn Banu

received Hatim with the highest kindness, and asked him numerous

questions respecting his adventure. Hatim detailed at length all that

he had seen and performed in the course of his journey. Husn Banu then

presented him with food and drink; but ere Hatim tasted of either, he

requested that his friend the prince of Assyria should be invited to

partake of his fare. Munir was immediately sent for, and after paying

his warmest regard to Hatim, they both sat down and ate together.

After they had finished their meal, Hatim, addressing Husn Banu, said,

“Noble lady, tell me what is your next question?”--“There is a man,”

replied Husn Banu, “who exclaims, ‘_He who speaks the truth is always

tranquil._’ Go, then, and find out that man; inform me wherein he has

spoken the truth, and what degree of tranquillity he enjoys in

consequence.”--“May I ask,” said Hatim, “in what quarter of the world

this man dwells?”--“That,” said Husn Banu, “is unknown to me, but I

have heard from my nurse that the city is called Karam.”--“Enough,”

said Hatim, “I trust that God will direct me in this also”; and taking

his leave of Husn Banu, he proceeded with his friend Munir to the

caravanseraï.