melons, and seeing what fine ones these were, she went down at once to
the Brahmin's house and bought two or three from the Brahmin's wife.
She took them home with her and cut them open; but then, lo and
behold! marvel of marvels! what a wonderful sight astonished her!
Instead of the thick white pulp she expected to see, the whole of the
inside of the melon was composed of diamonds, rubies and emeralds; and
all the seeds were enormous pearls. She immediately locked her door,
and taking with her all the money she had, ran back to the Brahmin's
wife and said to her, "Those were very good melons you sold me; I like
them so much that I will buy all the others on your melon plant." And
giving her the money she took home all the rest of the melons. Now
this cunning woman told none of her friends of the treasure she had
found, and the poor, stupid Brahmin and his family did not know what
they had lost, for they had never thought of opening any of the
melons; so that for all the precious stones they sold they only got a
few pice, which was very hard. Next day, when they looked out of the
window, the melon plant was again covered with fine ripe melons, and
again the woman who had bought those which had grown the day before
came and bought them all. And this went on for several days. There
were so many melons; and all the melons were so full of precious
stones, that the woman who bought them had enough to fill the whole
of one room in her house with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls.
At last, however, the wonderful melon plant began to wither, and when
the woman came to buy melons one morning, the Brahmin's wife was
obliged to say to her, in a sad voice, "Alas! there are no more melons
on our melon plant." And the woman went back to her own house very
much disappointed.
That day the Brahmin and his wife and children had no money in the
house to buy food with, and they all felt very unhappy to think that
the fine melon plant had withered. But the Brahmin's youngest
daughter, who was a clever girl, thought, "Though there are no more
melons fit to sell on our melon plant, perhaps I may be able to find
one or two shriveled ones, which, if cooked, will give us something
for dinner." So she went out to look, and searching carefully amongst
the thick leaves, found two or three withered little melons still
remaining. These she took into the house and began cutting them up to
cook, when--more wonderful than wonderful!--within each little melon
she found a number of small emeralds, rubies, diamonds and pearls! The
girl called her father and mother and her five sisters, crying, "See
what I have found! See these precious stones and pearls. I dare say,
inside all the melons we sold there were as good or better than these.
No wonder that woman was so anxious to buy them all! See, father--see,
mother--see, sisters!"
Then they were all overjoyed to see the treasure, but the Brahmin
said, "What a pity we have lost all the benefit of my son-in-law the
Jackal's good gift by not knowing its worth! I will go at once to that
woman, and try and make her give us back the melons she took."
So he went to the melon-buyer's house, and said to her, "Give me back
the melons you took from me, who did not know their worth."
She answered, "I don't know what you mean."
He replied. "You were very deceitful; you bought melons full of
precious stones from us poor people, who did not know what they were
worth, and you only paid for them the price of common melons; give me
some of them back, I pray you."
But she said, "I bought common melons from your wife, and made them
all into common soup long ago; therefore talk no further nonsense
about jewels, but go about your business." And she turned him out of
the house. Yet all this time she had a whole roomful of the emeralds,
diamonds, rubies and pearls that she had found in the melons the
Brahmin's wife had sold her.
The Brahmin returned home and said to his wife, "I cannot make that
woman give me back any of the melons you sold her; but give me the
precious stones our daughter has just found, and I will sell them to a
jeweller and bring home some money." So he went to the town, and took
the precious stones to a jeweller, and said to him, "What will you
give me for these?"
But no sooner did the jeweller see them than he said, "How could such
a poor man as you become possessed of such precious stones? You must
have stolen them: you are a thief! You have stolen these from my shop,
and now come to sell them to me!"
"No, no, sir; indeed no, sir," cried the Brahmin.
"Thief, thief!" shouted the jeweller.
"In truth, no sir," said the Brahmin; "my son-in-law, the Jackal, gave
me a melon plant, and in one of the melons I found these jewels."
"I don't believe a word you say," screamed the jeweller (and he began
beating the Brahmin, whom he held by the arm); "give up those jewels
which you have stolen from my shop."
"No, I won't," roared the Brahmin; "oh! oh-o! oh-o-o! don't beat me
so; I didn't steal them." But the jeweller was determined to get the
jewels; so he beat the Brahmin and called the police, who came running
up to his assistance, and shouted till a great crowd of people had
collected round his shop. Then he said to the Brahmin, "Give me up the
jewels you stole from me, or I'll give you to the police, and you
shall be put in jail." The Brahmin tried to tell his story about his
son-in-law, the Jackal but of course nobody believed him; and he was
obliged to give the precious stones to the jeweller in order to escape
the police, and to run home as fast as he could. And every one thought
the jeweller was very kind to let him off so easily.
All his family were very unhappy when they heard what had befallen
him. But his wife said, "You had better go again to our son-in-law,
the Jackal, and see what he can do for us."
So next day the Brahmin climbed the hill again, as he had done before,
and went to call upon the Jackal. When the Jackal saw him coming he
was not very well pleased. So he went to meet him, and said,
"Father-in-law, I did not expect to see you again so soon."
"I merely came to see how you were," answered the Brahmin, "and to
tell you how poor we are; and how glad we should be of any help you
can give us."
"What have you done with all the melons I gave you?" asked the Jackal.
"Ah," answered the Brahmin, "that is a sad story!" And beginning at
the beginning, he related how they had sold almost all the melons
without knowing their value; and how the few precious stones they had
found had been taken from him by the jeweller.
When the Jackal heard this he laughed very much, and said; "I see it
is no use giving such unfortunate people as you gold or jewels, for
they will only bring you into trouble. Come, I'll give you a more
useful present."
So, running into his cave, he fetched thence a small chattee, and gave
it to the Brahmin, saying, "Take this chattee; whenever you or any of
the family are hungry, you will always find in it as good a dinner as
this." And putting his paw into the chattee, he extracted thence
currie and rice, pilau, and all sorts of good things, enough to feast
a hundred men; and the more he took out of the chattee, the more
remained inside.
When the Brahmin saw the chattee and smelt the good dinner, his eyes
glistened for joy; and he embraced the Jackal, saying, "Dear
son-in-law, you are the only support of our house." And he took his
new present carefully home with him.
After this, for some time, the whole family led a very happy life, for
they never wanted good food; every day the Brahmin, his wife and his
six daughters found inside the chattee a most delicious dinner; and
every day, when they had dined, they placed it on a shelf, to find it
replenished when next it was needed.
But it happened that hard by there lived another Brahmin, a very great
man, who was much in the Rajah's confidence; and this man smelt daily
the smell of a very nice dinner, which puzzled him a great deal. The
rich Brahmin thought it smelt even nicer than his own dinner, for
which he paid so much, and yet it seemed to come from the poor
Brahmin's little cottage. So one day he determined to find out all
about it; and, going to call on his neighbour, he said to him, "Every
day, at about twelve o'clock, I smell such a very nice dinner--much
nicer than my own; and it seems to come from your house. You must live
on very good things, I think, although you seem to every one to be so
very poor."
Then, in the pride of his heart, the poor Brahmin invited his rich
neighbour to come and dine with him, and lifting the magic chattee
down from the shelf, took out of it such delicate fare as the other
had never before tasted. And in an evil hour he proceeded to tell his
friend of the wondrous properties of the chattee, which his
son-in-law, the Jackal, had given him, and how it never was empty. No
sooner had the great man learned all this than he went to the Rajah,
and said to him, "There is a poor Brahmin in the town who possesses a
wonderful chattee, which is always filled with the most delicious
dinner. I should not feel authorized to deprive him of it; but if it
pleased your Highness to take it from him, he could not complain."
The Rajah, hearing this, determined to see and taste for himself. So
he said, "I should very much like to see this chattee with my own
eyes." And he accompanied the rich Brahmin to the poor Brahmin's
house. The poor Brahmin was overjoyed at being noticed by the Rajah
himself, and gladly exhibited the various excellences of the chattee;
but no sooner did the Rajah taste the dinner it contained than he
ordered his guards to seize it and take it away to the palace, in
spite of the Brahmin's tears and protestations. Thus, for a second
time, he lost the benefit of his son-in-law's gift.
When the Rajah had gone, the Brahmin said to his wife; "There is
nothing to be done but to go again to the Jackal, and see if he can
help us."
"If you don't take care, you'll put him out of all patience at last,"
answered she. "I can't think why you need have gone talking about our
chattee!"
When the Jackal heard the Brahmin's story, he became very cross, and
said, "What a stupid old man you were to say anything about the
chattee! But see, here is another, which may aid you to get back the
first. Take care of it, for this is the last time I will help you."
And he gave the Brahmin a chattee, in which was a stout stick tied to
a very strong rope. "Take this," he said, "into the presence of those
who deprived you of my other gifts, and when you open the chattee,
command the stick to beat them; this it will do so effectually that
they will gladly return you what you have lost; only take care not to
open the chattee when you are alone, or the stick that is in it will
punish your rashness."
The Brahmin thanked his son-in-law, and took away the chattee, but he
found it hard to believe all that had been said. So, going through the
jungle on his way home, he uncovered it, just to peep in and see if
the stick were really there. No sooner had he done this than out
jumped the rope, out jumped the stick; the rope seized him and bound
him to a tree, and the stick beat him, and beat him, and beat him,
until he was nearly killed.
"Oh dear! oh dear!" screamed the Brahmin; "what an unlucky man I am!
Oh dear! oh dear! stop, please, stop! good stick, stop! what a very
good stick this is!" But the stick would not stop, but beat him so
much that he could hardly crawl home again.
Then the Brahmin put the rope and stick back again into the chattee,
and sent to his rich neighbour and to the Rajah, and said to them, "I
have a new chattee, much better than the old one; do come and see what
a fine one it is." And the rich Brahmin and the Rajah thought, "This
is something good; doubtless there is a choice dinner in this chattee
also, and we will take it from this foolish man, as we did the other."
So they went down to meet the Brahmin in the jungle, taking with them
all their followers and attendants. Then the Brahmin uncovered his
chattee, saying, "Beat, stick, beat! beat them every one!" and the
stick jumped out, and the rope jumped out, and the rope caught hold of
the Rajah and the rich Brahmin and all their attendants, and tied them
fast to the trees that grew around, and the stick ran from one to
another, beating, beating, beating--beating the Rajah, beating his
courtiers--beating the rich Brahmin, beating his attendants, and
beating all their followers; while the poor Brahmin cried with all his
might, "Give me back my chattee! give me back my chattee!"
At this the Rajah and his people were very much frightened, and
thought they were going to be killed. And the Rajah said to the
Brahmin, "Take away your stick, only take away your stick, and you
shall have back your chattee." So the Brahmin put the stick and rope
back into the chattee, and the Rajah returned him the dinner-making
chattee. And all the people felt very much afraid of the Brahmin, and
respected him very much.
Then he took the chattee containing the rope and stick to the house of
the woman who had bought the melons, and the rope caught her and the
stick beat her; and the Brahmin cried, "Return me those melons! return
me those melons!"
And the woman said, "Only make your stick stop beating me and you
shall have back all the melons." So he ordered the stick back into the
chattee, and she returned them to him forthwith--a whole roomful of
melons full of diamonds, pearls, emeralds, and rubies.
The Brahmin took them home to his wife, and going into the town, with
the help of his good stick, forced the jeweller who had deprived him
of the little emeralds, rubies, diamonds and pearls he had taken to
sell to give them back to him again, and having accomplished this, he
returned to his family, and from that time they all lived very
happily. Then, one day, the Jackal's wife invited her six sisters to
come and pay her a visit. Now the youngest sister was more clever than
any of the others; and it happened that, very early in the morning,
she saw her brother-in-law, the Jackal, take off the Jackal skin and
wash it and brush it, and hang it up to dry; and when he had taken off
the jackal-skin coat, he looked the handsomest prince that ever was
seen. Then his little sister-in-law ran, quickly and quietly, and
stole away the Jackal-skin coat, and threw it on the fire and burned
it. And she awoke her sister, and said, "Sister, sister, your husband
is no longer a jackal: see, that is he standing by the door."
So the Jackal Rajah's wife ran to the door to meet her husband, and
because the jackal's skin was burned, and he could wear it no longer,
he continued to be a man for the rest of his life, and gave up playing
all jackal-like pranks; and he and his wife, and his father and mother
and sisters-in-law, lived very happily all the rest of their days.
_The Bird of Truth_
Once upon a time there was a very poor fisherman, who lived in a
little hut on the banks of a river. This river, although deep, was
calm and clear, and, gliding from the sun and noise, would hide itself
among the trees, reeds, and brambles, in order to listen to the birds
who delighted it with their songs.
One day when the fisherman went out in his boat to cast his nets, he
saw a casket of crystal slowly drifting along with the stream. He
rowed toward it, but what was his horror at seeing two little babies,
apparently twins, lying in it upon a bundle of cotton! The poor
fisherman pitied them, took them out, and carried them home to his
wife.
"What have you got there?" she exclaimed, as he presented them to her.
"We have eight children already, and as if that were not enough, you
must bring me some more!"
"Wife," replied the poor fisherman, "what could I do? I found these
dear little creatures floating on the river below, and they would have
died of hunger, or have been drowned, if I had not rescued them.
Heaven, which has sent us these two more children, will assist us to
provide for them."
And so it proved; and the little ones, a boy and a girl, grew up
healthy and robust, together with the eight other children. They were
both so good, so docile, and so peaceable, that the fisherman and his
wife loved them exceedingly, and always held them up as examples to
the other children; but they, envious and enraged, did them a thousand
injustices and injuries. To escape from these cruelties, the twins
would take refuge together among the thickets and on the river's
banks; there they would divert themselves with the birds, and carry
crumbs of bread to them; and the birds, grateful to them for their
kindness, would fly to meet them, and teach them the bird-language.
The children learned to converse with the birds very quickly, and thus
they could amuse themselves with their feathered friends, who also
taught them many other very good and useful things, one of them being
how to get up early in the morning, and another, how to sing. One day
when the fisherman's children were more annoying than they had ever
been before, they said to the twins:
"We are the true-born children of Christians, but you, with all your
neatness and superiority, are but castaways, without any other father
or mother than the river, and belong to the toads and frogs!"
Upon receiving this insult the poor brother and sister were so filled
with shame and distress that they determined to go right away from
home and travel in search of their real parents At the early dawn next
day they got up and went forth without any one knowing it, and began
their journey, travelling they knew not whither.
Half the day passed by, and they had not perceived as yet any abode,
nor seen a single living being. They were hungry, thirsty, and tired,
when on turning round a hillside, they discovered a little house and,
on reaching it, they found it empty and its inhabitants absent.
Thoroughly disheartened, they seated themselves on a bench in the
doorway to rest. After a little while they noticed a number of
swallows collected together under the eaves of the roof, and as these
birds are such chatter-boxes, they began to prattle with one another.
Having learned the language of birds, the children knew what the
swallows said.
"Holloa! my lady friend," said one of the birds, who had a somewhat
rustic air about it, to another that was of a very elegant and
distinguished mien, "my eyes are glad to see you once more! I thought
you had forgotten your country friends. How do you live in the
palace?"
"I possess the nest of my ancestors," replied the other, "and as yet
they have not disinherited me, although, like yours, it is a century
old. But tell me before all," continued she with admirable finesse,
"how you and all your family are."
"Well, thank heaven, for although I have had my little Mariguita laid
up with an inflammation of the eyes that was within an ace of leaving
her blind, when I obtained our old remedy, the _pito-real_, it cured
her as if by magic."
"But what news have you to relate to me, friend Beatrice? Does the
nightingale still sing well? Does the lark soar as high as of yore?
Does the linnet still prune itself?"
"Sister," responded the swallow, "I have nothing but downright
scandals to tell you of. Our flock, which formerly was so innocent and
temperate, is utterly lost, and has quite taken to the manners of
mankind. It is heartbreaking!"
"What! Simple customs and innocence not to be found in the country,
nor among birds? My dear friend, what do you tell me?"
"The pure truth and nothing more. Just figure to yourself that on our
arrival here, whom should we meet but those chattering linnets, who
went off in search of cold and storm when the spring came with long
days and bright flowers! We tried to dissuade the crazy creatures, but
they answered us with the utmost insolence."
"What did they say?"
"They said to us--
'Whither do we go?
Whence come _you_, gossips,
Who travel so little
And talk so much?'
This was their reply to us, and on hearing it, we made them march to
double-quick time."
"What do I hear!" exclaimed the interlocutor. "That any one has dared
to accuse us, the most truthful and discreet of birds, of being
gossips?"
"Then what will you think when I tell you," said the first speaker,
"that the lark, who was so timid and ladylike, has become an insolent
pilferer, and that--
The lady lark upon her flight
Pilfers pulse and pilfers maize
Before the very sower's sight,
And at his anger pertly says,
'Sower, sower, more seed sow,
As that sown can never grow'?"
"I am astounded!"
"That is only half my story. When we arrived here, and I wished to
enter my nest, I found a shameless sparrow making himself quite at
home in it. 'This nest is mine,' I said to him. 'Yours?' he answered
rudely, and began to laugh. 'Mine and mine only.' 'Property is
robbery,' piped he quite coolly. 'Sir, are you crazy?' I said to him.
'My ancestors built this nest, my parents educated me in it, and in it
I mean to bring up my children.' Then at seeing me fainting, all my
companions began to weep. By the time I recovered my consciousness;
our husbands had put an end to the thieving rascal. But you, sister,
never see such scandals in the palace."
"Don't we! Ah, if you only knew!"
"Do tell us! do tell us!" exclaimed all the swallows with one voice.
When silence had been re-established, thanks to a loud and prolonged
hus-s-s-sh, uttered by an elder, the court dame began her story in
these terms.
"You must know that the king fell in love with the youngest daughter
of a tailor who lived near the palace, and married her; the girl
deserved his love, for she was as good as she was beautiful, and as
modest as she was discreet. It so happened that the king had to go to
the wars and leave his poor wife in the saddest and most perplexed
position, for his ministers and courtiers who were very indignant at
having a tailor's daughter for their queen, conspired to ruin her. And
they availed themselves of the first opportunity. During the king's
absence beautiful twins were born, a boy and a girl; but the wicked
conspirators sent to tell him that the queen had for children a cat
and a serpent.
"When the king received this intelligence, he was furious and sent off
a royal mandate that the queen should be entombed alive, and the
children cast into the river. This was done: the beautiful queen was
shut up in a stone vault, and her little darling twins were placed in
a crystal coffer, and left to the mercy of the stream."
When they heard the fate of the poor queen and her innocent babes, the
swallows, who are very kind and affectionate, began to lament most
heartily, whilst the twins looked at each other in amazement,
suspecting it to be very probable that they themselves were the
castaway children.
The city swallow continued her narrative:
"But now hear how God frustrated the plots of these traitors. The
queen was entombed; but her attendant, who was very devoted to her,
contrived to make a hole in the wall, and supplied her with food
through it, as we do to our little ones through our nests, and thus
the lady lives, although a life of misery. Her children were rescued
by a good fisherman, who has brought them up, so a friend of mine,
Martin Fisher, who lives on the banks of the river, has informed me."
The twins, who had heard the whole story, were delighted that they had
learned the language of birds; which indeed, is a proof that we should
never neglect any opportunity of learning for, when least we think it,
what we have learned may prove of great utility to us.
"So then," said the swallows joyfully, "when these children are older,
they will be able to regain their place at their father's side, and
liberate their mother."
"That is not so easy," said the narrator, "because they will not be
able to prove their identity, nor prove their mother's innocence, nor
the malice of the Ministry. There is only one method by which they
would be able to undeceive the king."
"And what is that? What is that?" cried all the swallows together.
"And how do you know it?"
"I know it," responded the narrator, "because one day when I was
passing by the palace garden, I met and had a chat with a cuckoo, who,
as you know, is a conjuror, and can foretell what will happen. As we
were discoursing with each other on the affairs of the palace, he said
to me--"
The children and the swallows were listening now with redoubled
attention, and even the young swallows were thrusting their little
bald heads so far out of their nests, that they were in great peril of
falling.
"'The only one who is able to persuade the king,' said the cuckoo to
me, 'is the Bird of Truth, who speaks the language of men, although
they for the most part do not know truth, and do not wish to
understand it.' 'And this bird, where is it?' I asked the cuckoo.
'This bird,' he answered, 'is in the castle of Go and Return Not; the
castle is guarded by a ferocious giant who only sleeps one quarter of
an hour in the day. If when he wakes up any one should be within reach
of his tremendous arm, he seizes and swallows him as we should a
mosquito.'"