Ill ii llli 
 
 hi I 
 
 !P'|!ll|iiti!!i 
 
 'iiiii 
 
 i fflllil 
 
 UlniiMiiiiiiaijj 
 

 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 GR 305.A62 
 
 Stories of '"*''f,||i[|jS|||iinMij(i|||i«^^ 
 3 1924 024 159 430 
 
 STORIES OF INDIA 
 
Sree Sree 
 
 Gurabe Namah! 
 
 THE EAST AND THE WEST. 
 (A Prophetic Vision.) 
 
 Gold-crowned with shining eyes she stands — 
 The gifts of energy piled at her feet, 
 Flashes of wizard knowledge on her brow, 
 And modern welfare and fruits of genius 
 In her hands, she, with palpitating heart. 
 Lips parted in a smile, her snowy arms 
 Outstretched to greet her elder Sister, who. 
 With stately tread and noble mien, draws near — 
 Her consciousness full-wakened, wisdom's lore 
 Drawn from the ages in her world-old eye. 
 The glow of meditation like a halo 
 Around her flung, a stillness on her brow 
 Like oceans' deeps, and on her swelling breast 
 The ripeness rich of countless cycles' growth: 
 Thus does the Goddess of the East embrace 
 The radiant child of the new West, and, lo. 
 In that embrace the scales of ignorance 
 Which Time hath placed upon their eyes, do fall! 
 And soul to soul in nakedness they stand, 
 With Truth between them, and from the Silence 
 God smiles and claims them both as one — His own. 
 
STORIE 
 
 Moral, Mystical 
 Spiritual and Romantic 
 
 BY 
 ROSE REINHARDT ANTHON 
 
 TIMES-MIBEOB PRINTING 4i BINDING HOUSE 
 
 LOS ANGELES, CAL. 
 
 1906 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1906, 
 
 BY 
 
 ROSE REINHARDT ANTHON 
 
TO 
 
 THE DBAK MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 ELIZABETH R. ANTHON 
 
 I DEDICATE 
 
 THESE LEAVES OF HINDOO LORE 
 
 THE GIFT OF MY GOOROO 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http ://www. arch i ve . o rg/detai Is/cu31 9240241 59430 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The outlines of these Stories of India came to 
 me from one of the most authoritative teachers of 
 Hindoo wisdom. To me they were fraught with 
 deep interest as they gave me an insight into the 
 old Hindoo custom of imparting knowledge and 
 an understanding of many things that before had 
 seemed mere superstitions to me. 
 
 So I dress them in garments of my own poor 
 weaving and send them forth into the Western 
 world with the hope that though they lack much 
 of the color and beauty of their original dressing, 
 yet they may inspire in others the interest they 
 have awakened in me. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 New York, 1906. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Singer and His Teacher 9 
 
 The Straight Path 18 
 
 The IVIagic Casket 22 
 
 The Saint and the Snake 28 
 
 The Yogi and the Housewife 33 
 
 The Emperor and the Sage 41 
 
 The Hermit and the Househoider 45 
 
 Ail for the Gooroo's Books 55 
 
 The Yogi and the Hunter 61 
 
 Real Renunciation 68 
 
 The Hermit and the Villager 73'f 
 
 Matching the Pearl 79 
 
 The Oak and the Vine 109 
 
 The Moon-Maiden 114 
 
STORIES OF INDIA 
 
 THE SINGER AND HIS TEACHER 
 
 The golden voice of the court-singer rose fuller 
 and richer, filling every corner of the great hall, 
 rolling wide into the corridors and forcing its lim- 
 pid sweetness into the innermost heart of the Pal- 
 ace where the Empress and her maidens sat in en- 
 raptured silence, with swelling hearts and deep- 
 drawn breath listening to him, the world-famed 
 singer, whose voice was drawn from Heaven and 
 who drew toward Heaven all who listened to that 
 Heavenborn voice. 
 
 "Oh!" said the Empress, "surely that voice 
 speaks to my heart of the land of my fathers, and 
 again I hear the fountain-splash as I play with my 
 sisters and brothers in the cool of the evening and 
 weave the garland to throw about the beloved 
 form of the Goddess who would bless me with a 
 lord, faithful and true, even as is my own dear 
 lord. " 
 
 "And to me, fair Queen," said a pensive maid, 
 "he sings of the sister that was my playmate and 
 who was dear beyond words to me, but" who, in 
 her early youth, grew very tired of much play and 
 would lie gazing on the shadows that the turrets 
 threw upon the courtyard floor for hours and 
 
10 Stories of India 
 
 hours until at last it seemed they wanted her 
 even more than we did. And one day I came upon 
 her and she lay so stiU and gray as if she had par- 
 taken of the last long evening shadow, and when I 
 touched her, she did not stir nor look at me. When 
 my father came, he said to me, taking her in his 
 arms so tenderly, 'Alas, little one! She hath gone 
 out of the shadow into the sunlight that is for such 
 as she!'" 
 
 And the littlest maid of honor broke the sad sil- 
 ence and said, "His voice, Queen, makes me 
 think of the dawn before the dew is dry on the 
 roses, when the birds are greeting each other, and 
 the fawns skip and jump in the moist gardens and 
 the black night has given way to the first golden 
 smile of the sun. It is then I want to go forth and 
 speak to all the living things that are so wide 
 awake, and greet them, even as they greet the com- 
 ing day. And when his voice bursts forth so glad 
 and happy then, Queen, I feel the early morn is 
 with me and all the world rejoice in living and all 
 the living rejoice in the world. ' ' 
 
 "0 Queen, thou kindly one! When I hear his 
 voice," said yet another companion of the Em- 
 press, "it is as if I were in the House of the Great 
 God again, making offerings for the son that I 
 wanted so much and was not born to me, or as if 
 I sat again in the silence of the night and waited 
 for the footsteps of him, my lord, who was my all 
 on earth and now my all in glory." 
 
The Singer and His Teacher 11 
 
 And the sweet-faced widow turned away her 
 eyes, wide-gazing into the distance, while in the 
 audience chamber, the Siager, whose wonderful 
 voice had roused memories sad, sweet and glad, 
 in the hearts of the hearers of the inner chambers, 
 stood smiling before the Emperor who showered 
 upon him praises and gifts because of the joy his 
 song had given him. Akbar the Great, the Grand 
 Mogul, Emperor of all that realm, he, the wise 
 and just and learned King, had taken into his court 
 Tansen the Singer, and unto his heart, Tansen the 
 Man. Of all his courtiers and subjects, Tansen 
 was to him the dearest and best friend. It mat- 
 tered not how wearied was his body, how tired his 
 brain, how sad his heart or how troubled his spirit, 
 the voice of Tansen ever soothed him into restful- 
 ness— the golden voice that filled the heavens with 
 its beauty, that pierced the god-realms with its 
 sweetness, that stormed the thunders with its 
 strength, that cleft the clouds by its plaintive sad- 
 ness. This was the magic voice that now thrilled 
 through the heart of the King banishing every dis- 
 cord and crowning bim with a peace and content- 
 ment that rarely sits upon the brow of King or 
 nestles in the heart of man. 
 
 ' ' 0, Tansen, ' ' said the Emperor, ' 'tell me where- 
 from came this voice of yours, whence the won- 
 der of it? It is not of mortals, but of the gods. No 
 other voice such as thine blesses the ear of man. 
 
12 Stories of India 
 
 my friend, and gladly would I listen for aye to its 
 marvel. ' ' 
 
 "You are kind, Sire," the Singer replied, 
 "but could you hear the voice of him who taught 
 me, whose beauty of voice I reflect so little, could 
 you but hear him, all my poor efforts would be 
 forgotten. ' ' 
 
 "Ever is your answer thus, Tansen! But tell 
 me who is he, this wonderful gooroo of wonderful 
 voice?" 
 
 "He is but a hermit. Sire, a saint who lives in the 
 jungle of Brindaban. By all he is known as a holy 
 man and his voice hath the power of drawing all 
 unto himself. Will not your majesty go with me 
 on a pilgrimage to the holy forest where you may 
 hear for yourself this voice of wonder and forget 
 that Tansen ever knew how to sing?" 
 
 "No, my friend, yours is unjust humility. To 
 forget your golden voice is impossible, for there is 
 none like it. But gladly will I go with you to this 
 hermit, your Gooroo, to prove what 1 already know 
 that you are the greatest singer of the world. Let 
 all be made ready for our journey tomorrow." 
 
 So the next day as the Emperor, disguised and 
 seated on a huge elephant, started on a pilgrimage 
 with Tansen to the latter 's Gooroo, he said to the 
 singer, "Tell me, Tansen, how met you the Saint- 
 Singer and how became you his chela?" 
 
 "It is quickly told, your majesty, it may interest 
 you. My father was a Brahman living in the out- 
 
The Singer and His Teacher 13 
 
 skirts of a jungle. We were very poor and I was 
 his only child. Often the passersby from the 
 jungle would stop at our little fruit grove and 
 strip from the trees the fruits that meant the live- 
 lihood of our family. One day my father said to 
 me, 'Tansen, my son, do you watch this side of the 
 grove and call to those wajrfarers that seek to 
 steal from our trees.' So I sat within our little 
 raised watch shed and while there I remembered 
 how I had, one terrible day, heard the roar of a 
 stricken tigress as she neared the village in search 
 of her stolen cubs, and day after day I tried to give 
 that roar until it became so perfect that my father 
 fled from the grove on one occasion as he heard it, 
 thinking a tiger was upon his land. After that 
 our fruits were safe, for, as soon as I heard any 
 one approaching with intent to steal, I gave the 
 roar, and instantly they were lost to view in the 
 distance. 
 
 "One evening, as I sat in the watch-cot, I saw 
 through the trees a band of men coming toward 
 the grove. I gave my roar and all, save one, fled. 
 But the one made straight toward me, looking not 
 at me, but into the undergrowths. I shall never 
 forget the love in his face. It seemed that it must 
 draw me down from the cot, and I understood only 
 then the stories I had heard of these holy men, who 
 feared neither man nor beast, and how, by their 
 love the taint of the world was banished from the 
 hearts of the men they looked upon, and the lust 
 
14 Stories of India 
 
 of blood quelled in the breasts of the savage beast. 
 The saint struck at the thickets with his staff to 
 look for the tiger, then turned and looked at me 
 lying in my shed, and said: 'What are you doing 
 there, my little man? Have you no fear of the 
 tiger that seems to be lurking near here?' 'Oh 
 no,' I answered, 'I am here to guard my father's 
 fruit grove from the bold thieves that stripped 
 them. There is no tiger here, sir, I roar at them 
 and they think it is a tiger and flee from here. And 
 so my father's trees are safe.' 
 
 "Smilingly he lifted me down from the cot and 
 hoisting me upon his shoulders, walked toward 
 the house where he sojourned for the night much 
 to the joy of my father and mother who felt them- 
 selves blessed by his presence within their lowly 
 abode. The next day he left and I with him. He 
 had seen possibilities in the voice of the- child 
 that could easily imitate the roar of a tiger, and 
 had promised my father the reward of a world- 
 famous singer for the sacrifice of his son. So I lived 
 with him and loved him, this great Saint-Singer 
 Hari Das, until you, Sire, heard my poor voice 
 and took me to your court and home, and most of 
 all, to your mighty heart." 
 
 Two days later, as the sun threw its rays athwart 
 the hillside, the King and singer found themselves 
 at their journey's end, and Brindaban, holiest 
 ground in all India, lay before them— Brindaban, 
 sweetest word of Indian tongue, most sacred spot 
 
The Singer and His Teacher 15 
 
 where Krishna walked and talked, and where lov- 
 ers of Him still walk that they may partake of the 
 glory that His Blessed Feet have left on its hal- 
 lowed dust. 
 
 There, in this forest of Brindaban, before a small 
 hut, they beheld a man sitting in deep meditation, 
 hands folded on breast, head lifted high, eyes clos- 
 ed, and on his brow the glow like the sun's first 
 waking. 
 ' ' See, it is he, my Gooroo the Saint-Singer, ' ' whis- 
 pered Tansen, reverently. "Tarry thou herej 
 Sire, behind these bushes and I will see how it can 
 be brought about that you shall hear this voice so 
 gloriously beautiful and yet so often silent in the 
 presence of the idly curious. Gold, nor jewels, 
 nor titles can bring it from that golden throat. 
 But the smallest action of love will set it vibrating 
 to the pulse of Nature's heart." 
 
 So saying, the singer prostrated himself low be- 
 fore his Gooroo, who, wrapped in meditation, saw 
 him not, nor heard him. Then lifting up his head, 
 Tansen burst forth in a sacred song which his Goo- 
 roo had taught him years ago. Louder and louder 
 rang the tone, sweeter and sweeter grew its beauty 
 until suddenly the golden notes broke and harsh 
 discord jarred on the listening ear. The Saint- 
 Singer opened his eyes and spake. 
 
 "Thou art out of key. Thou dost distort the 
 beauty of sound, Tansen, thou who wert so per- 
 fect, art imperfect and discordant. Thou gold- 
 
16 Stones of India 
 
 en-throated one, has dallying with the court and 
 the world lost for thee the soul of harmony?" 
 
 The singer, who purposely had made the harsh 
 discord, said, "0 Gooroo! I pray thee, sing thou 
 the strain that I may again taring it to memory." 
 Then the Gooroo lifted his voice and pealed forth 
 the harmonies of Heaven-sounds. It told of the 
 song of the stars, of the marriage of earth and seas, 
 of the weavings of love that give sustenance to 
 man and all that lives, of the birth of Time and the 
 crowning of Eternity, of the creation of gods and 
 the dance of Love, each step of which is the mak- 
 ing of a universe, each circle of which is the im- 
 mutable law thereof. 
 
 And, as he sang, Akbar fell on the ground 
 drunk with the exquisite blessedness of it. 
 
 The chela stood wrapped in devotion before that 
 Saint-Singer, and when the song ceased and its 
 sweetness still throtataed through the silence of the 
 evening, Tansen's hushed voice fell upon the ear 
 of the holy man, saying, "The Badshah hath come 
 to pay thee homage, Gooroo. ' ' 
 
 And when Akbar the Great had fallen at the feet 
 of the humble saint and risen again, he walked a 
 little in the lengthening gloom with his singer 
 and said, "Thou art right, Tansen. He is all thou 
 sayest. Thou art a shadow, he a sun. Thou art 
 as brass, he is gold. Why is this great difiference 
 and what the cause? Both of you have the sound 
 
The Singer and His Teacher 17 
 
 of Heaven in your voice, the gold of harmony in 
 your tones. So like, yet so different. ' ' 
 
 "The difference, Sire," answered Tansen, "is 
 vast as you say, but the cause is simple. I sing 
 to please an earthly King. He sings to please the 
 King of Kings. 
 
THE STRAIGHT PATH 
 
 A minister of a great king, seated in his palan- 
 quin, was making for the palace, when he saw a 
 man, clad in ill-fitting garments and bearing him- 
 self as one of the poorest laborers of the king- 
 dom, digging a pit at the side of the road. The 
 minister called a halt to his carriers and said to 
 the digger of the pit: "Why dost thou dig that 
 pit? Knowest thou not, thou fool, that a danger 
 it is to the passer-by, who seeing it not, may 
 stumble therein?" 
 
 The digger replied with a wise shake of his 
 head: "A fool thou callest me; a fool indeed is he 
 who f alleth into my pit ! For, sir, he that walk- 
 eth in the straight path, cannot fall therein, and 
 he who falleth therein is the man that maketh a 
 crooked path; for my pit is on the roadside, and 
 not in the pathway. ' ' 
 
 The minister, noting the wisdom of the retort, 
 ordered his servants to take the man into his 
 house, to clothe him, feed him, house him until his 
 return. The next morning he called the laborer 
 to him and said: "Thy reply of yesterday hath 
 interested me because of its wisdom. Wilt thou 
 remain in my hpuse and give me more of thy coun- 
 sel when I shall have need of it?" 
 
 And so he thalt had seemed an ordinary laborer 
 became the counselor of the minister. And so 
 
The Straight Path 19 
 
 wondrous was the wisdom and the counsels so 
 good he brought to state affairs, that in a short 
 time the minister became Prime Minister of the 
 Kin^. 
 
 Now the people of the court began to wonder 
 at the new wisdom of the Minister, for he had ever 
 been known among them as one of not overmuch 
 brightness, but wearing ever on his brow the 
 semblance of wisdom, but not its true image. And 
 they began to pry into his private affairs and 
 look about for the cause of his enlightenment, un- 
 til one day, by the unfaithfulness of a menial, they 
 learned of the inmate of his house that was ever in 
 close companionship with the Minister, and quick 
 the talking spies acquainted the King of the source 
 of the Minister's wondrous wisdom. 
 
 When the Prime Minister heard that the world 
 was about to know how and where he came by his 
 wisdom, a great pajiic took hold of him, and he 
 forgot all but his desire to rid himself of the man 
 who had been his friend and counselor, but now 
 was his seeming rock ahead. So, after thinking 
 about it all night, he called to him the wise man, 
 v/ho, though he served the Minister at all other 
 times as a menial servant, was in reality one of 
 the greatest sages of his time, who preferred to 
 live unnoticed in the guise of a poor tramp and 
 laborer, happy within himself in the enjoyment 
 of the luxuries of the realm of thought and wis- 
 dom. Handing him a letter, he said: "Take thou 
 
20 Stories of India 
 
 this letter unto him whose name is written there- 
 on; see that thou thyself doth deliver it into his 
 own hands. A matter of great import it contain- 
 eth, and life or death dependeth on its delivery." 
 
 So spake the Minister ; and the sage went forth 
 to deliver the letter to him for whom it was in- 
 tended. 
 
 It chanced that the young son of the Prime Min- 
 ister encountered the sage on his way, and, with 
 beaming face and lighted eye, he said unto him: 
 "Wilt thou do something for me? My sweetheart 
 awaits me up yonder ; my father awaits me at the 
 palace. Wilt thou not take this letter to her, the 
 sweetest lady in all the land, and bring back to me 
 her answer?" 
 
 The man looked at the bright, eager face of the 
 youth, then at the letter in his hand, and said: "It 
 cannot be; a commission your father hath sent 
 me on that brooketh no delay. See, yonder is the 
 house ; there must I deliver this letter. ' ' 
 
 The youth looked up and said : ' ' 'Tis but a short 
 distance. Give me the letter, and I will deliver it 
 to him who is the state executioner, to whom it 
 is addressed, and do thou go unto her, my mis- 
 tress, and bring me back a reply within the hour. ' ' 
 
 A moment the sage paused, then the youth 
 snatched the letter from his hand and put in its 
 place the love letter to his mistress. 
 
 An hour later the sage reappeared at the house 
 of the Prime Minister and inquired for the youth. 
 
The Straight Path 21 
 
 "What dost thou here?" the Minister asked. 
 "Did I not send thee with a letter to him who 
 would not have sent thee back to me thus?" The 
 sage replied : ' ' Oh, sir, thy son insisted upon my 
 going with a letter to his mistress while he himself 
 took charge of the letter thou gavest me. See, 
 here is an answer from her whom he sent me to." 
 
 At this the Prime Minister uttered a wild shriek 
 and, falling on his face, cried: "What have I 
 done? Woe is to me, accursed am I forever and 
 ever! My son is dead, dead! Thou fool, that let- 
 ter was the death warrant of the person who de- 
 livered it unto the executioner to whom it was ad- 
 dressed. My poor son! With thine own hands 
 hast thou delivered thy death sentence. ' ' 
 
 ' ' thou greater than fool ! Thou hast fallen into 
 my pit," cried the sage. "So long as thou didst 
 walk in the straight path, thou wert safe and pros- 
 pered, but when thou didst take the crooked road, 
 thou didst fall into the pit. ' ' 
 
THE MAGIC CASKET 
 
 It was audience day at the court, the day when 
 the rich and poor, the mighty and lowly and all 
 who elected might come to the king in person to 
 present to Tnim their woes and wrongs and appeal 
 to him for succor and aid and pray to >iitin to 
 right their wrongs and lift from them any weight 
 of oppression with which they were overburdened 
 withal. 
 
 On his throne sat the king in regal splendour, 
 with his prime-minister at his side, promising suc- 
 cor to each, giving light and cheer to many hearts 
 that erstwhile had been overshadowed. 
 
 Now it chanced that a Uttle way from the king 
 a very ragged, man stood, gazing past the throne, 
 as if into an tlndiscovered country beyond. He 
 had evidently forgotten his own surroundings or 
 even the errand upon which he had come, and 
 wrapped in thought he alone of all the supplicants 
 had failed to ask of the king a boon. 
 
 Suddenly the king turned to his prime minister 
 and said: "Who is it that takes the best care of 
 the body of a man in this world?" 
 
 The prime-minister answered without hesita- 
 tion: "Why, the wife, of course, your majesty." 
 
 "If she be chaste," came in calm, even tones 
 from the lips of the ragged man who stood near 
 the dais; "if she be not chaste, she careth not for 
 
The Magic Casket 23 
 
 him, whether body or soul, and may desire the de- 
 struction of even both, your majesty." 
 
 The king smiled and turning to his minister 
 said again: "What thing is of most service in 
 this world?" 
 
 "Money, your majesty, for with it all things 
 pertaining to the world can be had." 
 
 "If it be in the hand," said the ragged one in 
 the same thoughtful manner. 
 
 The king, noting the apparent wisdom of both 
 replies, beckoned him to come nearer, and said: 
 "Who art thou, and what dost thou here? Already 
 all supplicants have told me their needs and thou 
 alone remainest here and still hast asked naught 
 of me. What can I do for thee?" 
 
 The man answered: "Your majesty, I had not 
 thought ever to come to thee for aid, nor would 
 I, were it not for the sake of one who is dear be- 
 yond all the world to me, my wife. A scholar am 
 I, my books have been my wealth, my all. Days 
 and nights I have spent, devouring them to the 
 exclusion of all things else. More cared I for wis- 
 dom than worldly goods, king, nor feared or 
 dreaded I poverty, while I was able to procure 
 food for her, who is most worthy of women, and 
 a little to eat and drink for myself. Thus was 
 my world all bright and beautiful, until yester- 
 day I awoke to the fact that she, my loved one, 
 was nigh illness, because of lack of good food, and 
 
24 Stones of India 
 
 to thee I have come to pray for aid, not for char- 
 ity, king, but to render thee my service and may- 
 hap be able to supply her with the necessary nour- 
 ishment, so that she, who is dear to me, may again 
 smile upon me as of yore because of her returning 
 health and strength. ' ' 
 
 The king looked at the gaunt figure covered 
 with ragged garments, then into the calm, sweet 
 light of his eyes, overshadowed by a brow of 
 height and wisdom, and said unto his minister: "I 
 make him one of the learned men of my court; see 
 that his needs are fully supplied and add unto 
 them such luxuries as befit one of that position. ' ' 
 
 Prom that day on the ragged scholar was known 
 all over the land as the most learned man of the 
 court, and though he wandered no more in his 
 rags, he was still poring over his books every lei- 
 sure moment that was not given to his master. For 
 his gentle manners and kind deeds too, he was 
 noted far and wide, and the wife, who had looked 
 upon him as a god in the days of poverty, now saw 
 in him the saint indeed. For while his position 
 and wealth had brought change in his surround- 
 ings, in the student no change had come, but only 
 in the garments he wore. 
 
 And so in a short time he was made minister of 
 the court and the king's love for him was great 
 because of the rare counsels which he gave and 
 the beauty of his daily living. 
 
The Magic Casket 25 
 
 But at court there were those who grew jealous, 
 that he, a ragged beggar, should have reached such 
 heights at court, and many rumors went out with 
 intent to poison the mind and heart of the king 
 toward the minister, and one and another said 
 unto the king again and again: "He is versed in 
 magic, king, it is known that each day, before 
 he goes to thee, he retires into an inner chamber 
 and opens a silver chest and there bows low to the 
 ground before the charm that is therein. He hath 
 bewitched thee, sire, for it is unnatural that one, 
 who only a year ago came to thee begging in rags, 
 should be so loved by thee and hold a place at 
 court second only to thee. Think of it, king, 
 and beware of his magic art. ' ' 
 
 At first the king laughed at his courtiers, but 
 when the warning came to him agpain and again, 
 even from those nearest to him, he grew a little 
 grave and there arose in his mind a suspicion, ever 
 so slight, against his minister, and one day he said 
 unto them : ' ' Come and I will go with you and see 
 for myself." 
 
 So, with his courtiers he proceeded to the house 
 of his friend, the minister, who, in his simple, gra- 
 cious way, made them welcome in the magnificent 
 home which the king had bestowed upon him. Af- 
 ter an exchange of courtesies, the king said unto 
 him: "Come with me at once to my council cham- 
 ber, for there are weighty matters about which I 
 would consult with thee. ' ' 
 
26 Stories of India 
 
 The minister said after a pause: "If thy maj- 
 esty will permit, may I retire into privacy for a 
 few moments?" 
 
 A look of malicious pleasure passed between 
 the courtiers, but the king only said: "I wish thee 
 to come at once. ' ' 
 
 Again the minister hesitated and said, ' ' 'Tis but 
 for a moment I would retire, thy majesty. I beg 
 thee to permit me to do so. ' ' 
 
 A shadow passed over the face of the king, as he 
 said: "What wouldst thou do?" 
 
 "Just for a moment retire into this inner cham- 
 ber, thy majesty, and I will follow thee to the-pal- 
 ace. ' ' 
 
 The courtiers rubbed their hands in glee and as 
 the king rose and said to him, "I will accompany 
 thee, my friend," the minister, alarmed, drew 
 back. 
 
 "Thy majesty, it is not fit for thee to come 
 where I go. It would mean naught to thee, but it 
 is all to me." 
 
 Then it is so, thought the king, as he insisted to 
 be taken with the minister, who led him into a 
 little chamber, that was filled with books and pam- 
 phlets, and in the center of the room a casket 
 stood. The minister gazed at the king, who, with 
 disapproval in his eyes, gazed back at him. Then 
 without a word, he opened the lid of the silver 
 chest and behold, in the bed of silver lay a bundle 
 of old yellow rags ! 
 
The Magic Casket 27 
 
 "What is it?" the king asked. 
 
 ' ' 0, sire ! These are the rag^s which covered me 
 in my days of poverty. I have kept them so that 
 in my days of prosperity I might not forget the 
 man who wore them. Each day before I go to 
 your council chamber, I look upon them and re- 
 member what I needed in those days, and what I 
 felt in those rags, so that I may not forget what 
 the poor feel and need. ' ' 
 
 The king heard these words in wondering ad- 
 miration, and leading the minister back to the 
 courtiers, he said unto them in deep scorn: "Out 
 of the magic chamber I have come, my friends ; 
 upon the magic casket and its charm I have looked, 
 and now I shall pass sentence of punishment upon 
 the magician himself, and proclaim him here 
 Prime Minister of all my realm." 
 
THE SAINT AND THE SNAKE 
 
 Thus it was writ: A saint passing through the 
 forest came to a path across which was stretched 
 in great black length a serpent, who showed not 
 the signs of venomous hatred, as are the ser- 
 pents wont to do. The saint was known as one of 
 the most holy in the land, and was also looked 
 upon as one of the wisest sages, because of his won- 
 drous fund of wisdom and understanding of the 
 laws of the universe and the voice of Nature itself, 
 the chirp of the bird, the call of the wild beast of 
 the jungle, the rattle and hiss of the serpents them- 
 selves. He understood even to the extent of know- 
 ing all they meant by their sounds and motions. 
 
 Now among holy men there is a law which is 
 never broken, and that is, that over the body of no 
 living, breathing creature of the Lord's making 
 will they step, since all these creatures, even in 
 their lowest state, are worthy to turn aside for. 
 For are they not the beloved creatures of the hand 
 of Him for whose love and beauty the saint had 
 left all to worship and so come closer unto Him 
 for whom alone he now lived? 
 
 So, standing close to the serpent, the saint, who 
 by his love knew how to address the serpent, said : 
 ' ' serpent, across my path thou liest. Wilt thou 
 not move even a little to the side so I may pass? 
 I cannot step over thee, who art created by Him 
 
The Saint and the Snake 29 
 
 whom I worship, for thou too, some day, mayest 
 walk as I do and worship even as I do. " 
 
 The serpent reared his head aloft and made 
 answer : " saint, because of thy coming I am here 
 in thy path. Bid me, holy man, and I will leave 
 thy path. Tired am I of my creeping, crawling 
 life, ajid long for higher things. Tell me this, how 
 can I, who have stung to death many a bird and 
 beast and man and even those creeping things of 
 my own family, how can I, even low and poisonous, 
 become better? How can I expiate my sins? 
 How can I cease to be feared and accursed 
 wherever I am seen?" 
 
 The saint with a wealth of love in his face said 
 unto him: "Sting no more, serpent, and the 
 curse shall be lifted from thee." 
 
 And the snake made way for the saint to pass. 
 On the side of the path the snake lay in the sun- 
 shine with closed eyes and languorous body, when 
 a troop of children passed that way. On seeing 
 the snake they ran wildly away, never turning to 
 the right nor left, until they had reached their 
 homes. 
 
 The next day they passed again that way, and 
 to their amazement saw the snake in the same 
 plsuje and in the same position. "It is dead, ' ' they 
 thought, and, taking great sticks, they poked the 
 snake, who only writhed with pain, but lifted not 
 its head to strike them. Thus bolder and bolder 
 the children became until, as the days went by and 
 
30 Stories of India 
 
 they had pelted the serpent with stones and poked 
 him with sticks to their own contentment and the 
 pain of the serpent, they boldly went to its head, 
 opened its jaws and thrust their hands between 
 them, down into its throat. Still the snake hurt 
 them not, but even opened its mouth to the width 
 of its extent, to keep the poison bag from touching 
 the hand of the cruel little urchins who tortured 
 him thus. 
 
 For many days, the lads played and hurt the 
 snake, who, though he suffered much, made no 
 sign nor sought to strike back. One day it so 
 chanced that some wood-cutters passed by that 
 path, and after gathering faggots in great abun- 
 dance, found they had no cord or rope with which 
 to bind them, and spying the serpent so still in the 
 distance, said: "It must be dead or very old; let 
 us tie up our faggots with it." 
 
 And straightway they proceeded to use him as 
 a great rope. In the tying, the poor serpent was 
 stretched and pulled and ripped and cut, yet he 
 made no sign to retaliate or in any way use the 
 venom that was within him. So the men carried 
 their faggots to market on the outskirts of the 
 forest. 
 
 Reaching there they threw the bundle on the 
 ground, and, untying the snake, cast him on the 
 wayside, where he lay throbbing, quivering and 
 aching with torturous wounds. 
 
The Saint and the Snake 31 
 
 For hours he lay there, then, with a gasp, he 
 lifted his eyes and beheld before him the saint, who 
 had told him to sting no more if he wished to expi- 
 ate the sins of his past. ' ' saint, ' ' gasped the snake 
 in the bitterness of his pain, "I am the snake 
 whom only a short while ago thou didst behold 
 sleek and smooth and beautiful in my grace and 
 motion. Look at me now, bleeding, tortured and 
 wounded unto death am I, because I stung not 
 those who tortured me, when they beheld me 
 harmless. Wise thou mayest be, saint, and 
 holy, but thy counsel to me was not of deep wis- 
 dom, when thou didst say, 'Bite not,' yet surely 
 He, who made me, meant not that this suffering 
 should be mine. ' ' 
 
 The saint replied, all the while gazing into the 
 eye of the snake: "Unto thee, poor sufferer, I 
 did say, 'Bite no creature,' but I did not say, 'Hiss 
 thou not at those who take advantage of thy meek- 
 ness and thy desire to harlm no one.' Thy hiss to 
 thee was given as a harmless and timely warning 
 to those who unworthily would gain advantage 
 over thee. This thou mightest have done and the 
 hiss would have taken the place of a bite, without 
 the danger and the hurt. 
 
 "Self-preservation is the law that is of great- 
 est growth in the heart of all creatures, and to 
 thee thy hiss and venom were given to serve as 
 weapons that all men fear. Even now, snake, 
 look about thee and see those who are ready to 
 
32 Stories of India 
 
 add torment to thy already battered and mangled 
 body, because of thy seeming helplessness. At one 
 hiss from thee, they will be scattered and thou 
 wilt be feared, although thou dost not inflict pain. 
 Man hath learned to fly even from the shadow of 
 pain, and thy hiss, though not of real danger, is 
 ever a forerunner of it. Hadst thou done this, 
 beautiful and smooth thou still wouldst be and 
 yet thy expiation also would have been fulfilled. ' ' 
 
 The snake, after this, lifted up his poor head and 
 gave forth hiss after hiss, and ia a few seconds 
 the market place was deserted. He then drew his 
 weakened body after him and crawled into the 
 dark inclosure of foliage and there remained, hiss- 
 ing at those who came close unto him with danger 
 intent, but striking not with the poison that was 
 to him a weapon of sure death to all that it 
 touched. 
 
 Thus to great age he advanced, and, though nev- 
 er biting creatures, he held at bay with his hiss 
 those who sought to molest him. 
 
THE YOGI AND THE HOUSEWIFE. 
 
 In a small jungle of India, the wayfarers were 
 wont to see sitting in stern and harsh silence a 
 yogi, with hands crossed upon his breast and his 
 eyes closed for hours at a time, while he meditated 
 in deep concentration upon the laws of Nature 
 within the universe and within himself. The good 
 peasants of the neighboring village passed him 
 with bated breath and rarely stopped to look upon 
 him save with eyes of fear, for the lines of love 
 were not stamped upon this yogi's face, nor was he 
 full of that sweet humanity or humility which 
 the holy ones who dwelt in the jungles were apt 
 to display in their silent and ardent quest for il- 
 lumination. 
 
 One day, as the yogi took his accustomed seat 
 'neath his tree of meditation, he was startled out 
 of his deep trance-like silence by the droppings of 
 a heron that sat on a branch above him. The 
 angry yogi flashed a burning glance at the in- 
 nocently-offending heron, and lo, at that glance, 
 the heron fell at his feet dead, for the fire in the 
 glance of the angry yogi had taken the life of the 
 bird! 
 
 The yogi gazed at the havoc he had wrought 
 on the poor heron, but no pity stirred in his breast 
 for the life he had taken. Only a great throb of 
 conscious power rose within him at this sign of ac- 
 
34 Stories of India 
 
 complished ambition. "Now," thought he, "I am 
 a real yogi. I may not be able to remove moun- 
 tains or look at the invisible workings of the uni- 
 verse. I may not be able to put off my body at 
 will or call from a distance a man or a beast in 
 a second. I may not be able to materialize objects 
 for all the world to wonder at. But I can, 
 with a look of anger, slay a life. So, let all beware 
 that they anger me not, lest I show them my 
 power at the cost of their lives." So thought the 
 yogi and again entered into the concentrated 
 silence of meditation. 
 
 Now, as the day wore on, he rose and sought 
 the village to ask for the frugal meal that a yogi 
 is wont to beg from the homes of the pious each 
 day. He called aloud at the door of a poor Brah- 
 man and demanded in harsh tones for his fare 
 from the lady of the house who opened the door 
 to him. "One moment. Sir," she said, "And I 
 will bring to thee such food as I have, ' ' and bow- 
 ing to the yogi she turned and reentered her* 
 house. 
 
 The moments passed and lengthened into the 
 half of an hour ere the housewife again came to 
 the yogi, bringing him choice fruits and sweet- 
 meats, and holding them toward him with sweet 
 humility and doTsmcast eyes. But the yogi thrust 
 them away and harshly said, "Ha, 'tis a fine 
 way you treat a holy beggar keeping him waiting 
 at your door to suit your will ! Do you know who 
 
The Yogi and the Housewife 35 
 
 I am?" And he cast an angry glance at the 
 woman who met that glance with calm humility 
 and wise serenity. 
 
 "Oh yes, Sir," she softly said, "I know who 
 you are. But I am a woman and not a heron 
 whom you can kill by an angry glance. ' ' 
 
 The yogi started and looked at her in wonder- 
 ment, but ere he could question her how she came 
 to know of the heron, the Brahmani replied: 
 
 "I am a yogi, too, good Sir, and the things that 
 are I see. For me space holds no obstacle and 
 material environments do not cloud my spiritual 
 .sense. I read the thoughts of men and that which 
 transpires in the far distance is revealed unto me. 
 So I saw you in anger slay a heron and I read the 
 thoughts in your mind at my long delay in serving 
 you with food, and now again, a moment ago, I 
 knew the desire to punish me swelled in your 
 breast. But, good Sir, your power is lost on me 
 for mine offsets yours. Mine is bom of spiritual 
 devotion to duty and kin, while you seek psychic 
 powers for self-aggrandisement. But, pray, par- 
 don my prattle, Sir, I wiU now tell you how, 
 against my desire, I have kept you waiting thus 
 for these fruits. It is written in the Sacred Books 
 that a woman's first duty is to her husband and 
 home. By this devotion she may gain greater 
 spiritual development than by any other means. 
 You Brahmans teach these and we who read or 
 hear the Shastras in earnest must follow each 
 
36 Stories of India 
 
 teaching. So it happened that when I left you, 
 my husband had just returned from a long 
 journey, hungry and almost overcome with weari- 
 ness and heat. As my first duty is to him, I cooled 
 him, served him and fed him. He is head of our 
 house, the first in my soul and the lord of my 
 heart. Through his great devotion to God, he has 
 been blessed with wonderful illumination of 
 Truth. This illuminated Truth he bestows upon 
 me freely. He feeds me, he clothes me, he keeps 
 the roof-tree above me by his labors. His love 
 comforts me, his strength encourages me, his 
 Truth teaches me and he serves me with his wis- 
 dom. And in turn I, most blessed among women, 
 see in him my spiritual guide, my benefactor and 
 my lover. So, with all devotion and humility I 
 serve him and my attention to him is ever undi- 
 vided. It is through this loving devotion to my 
 good husband, my good Sir, I have attained these 
 spiritual powers which make the invisible visible 
 and the unreadable knowable to me." 
 
 The yogi marvelled as he listened to her words. 
 His eyes lost their cold hauteur and the harsh 
 lines softened about his face. 
 
 "Thou art indeed a wonderful woman," he said, 
 "and thy words make my heart drop its head in 
 silence because of foolish and harsh vanity. Oh 
 tell me words of advice that might be of service 
 to me in this my quest for illumination, for great 
 is thy wisdom and marvellous thy devotion must 
 
The Yogi and the Housewife 37 
 
 be to have brought about this development of soul 
 in thee." 
 
 "Nay," said the housewife, "it is not meet I 
 should teach thee, a Brahman, but this will I say 
 that the same devotion that gave me these spirit- 
 ual powers show me that thou art an only son of 
 thy parents and in seeking to develop thy soul, 
 thou hast left behind thee, in great pain and sor- 
 row, thy good parents who are pining for thee. 
 There thou hast fled thy highest duty, and because 
 of it, the true light has not been vouchsafed to 
 thee. I urge thee to go yonder across the market 
 place. There thou wilt find a hunter, a man of low 
 caste indeed— a pariah— but of great wisdom. Do 
 thou go to him and ask his advice, and thou shalt 
 hear that which shall make thee wise and see that 
 which thou shalt not soon forget. ' ' 
 
 "But," said the Brahman, "a hunter! How can 
 I be in the presence of one who kills living things 
 for a living. An outcast is he and of undean 
 birth." 
 
 "But thou didst kill a heron, though a Brah- 
 man. That wise hunter follows the calling of his 
 castq, Sir, the caste of a hunter in which he is 
 bom. But he does not kill, he merely sells flesh 
 as his forefathers did by buying it from somebody 
 else. But even a pariah may acquire wisdom if 
 he desire it, say the sages, wisdom's gate is opened 
 as wide to the meanest bom as to the twice-born, 
 even as God is equally approachable to high and 
 
38 Stones of India 
 
 low alike. Even from an illuminated Sudra the 
 Brahmans have gratefully received lessons of 
 Truth." 
 
 At this the yogi turned and walked toward the 
 stall where the hunter stood with his back toward 
 him weighings some flesh that lay in the scales. 
 The yogi looked at the hunter and stopped still. 
 This hunter was an outcast and unclean, a killer 
 of cattle and bird, a handler and seller of flesh 
 and he, a Brahman, could not go into his presence, 
 much less go to him for advice. Yet she, the mar- 
 vellous woman, had bade him go to him and see 
 that which he would never forget and hear the 
 words that would make him wise. 
 
 As he stood there, some hundred feet from the 
 hunter's stall, pondering in uncertainty, the 
 hunter put down his scales, turned and faced him, 
 came directly toward him and bowed to him low. 
 "0 holy Sir," he began, "I have been awaiting 
 thee. Yonder good woman sent thee hither to 
 seek advice from me and thou, in thy perplexity, 
 canst not make up thy mind to seek wisdom from 
 one who is unclean and an outcast. ' ' 
 
 "How knowest thou all this?" faltered the yogi. 
 "But a few minutes since I left the woman yonder. 
 Here thou dost meet me telling me all that has 
 passed between us and read the shrinkings of my 
 heart and the promptings of my mind ! ' ' 
 
 "0 Sir," answered the hunter, "Illumination 
 and yogi-powers are mine too." 
 
The Yogi and the Housewife 39 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the Brahman, "you, an 
 outcast and a hunter, have spiritual powers? How 
 came you by so great a blessing in these your low 
 material surroundings?" 
 
 "If thou wilt come with me, holy Sir," humbly 
 proposed the hunter, "and bless my house by the 
 dust of thy feet, I will show thee how these powers 
 came to me. ' ' 
 
 Wonderingly the yogi followed the hunter into 
 his home, a mud hut, where, with reverent air, the 
 hunter led him to a room in which an old man of 
 peaceful mien and, at his side, a sweet-faced 
 woman, sat on seats elevated as a throne. 
 
 "See," said the hunter, "these are my revered 
 and beloved parents. These I have worshipped 
 and loved and served all my life. These have been 
 my earthly deities and to these I have given the 
 strength of my concentrated love and homage 
 from childhood up. And thus they, through my 
 sacred devotion to them, have been the medium 
 of my spiritual enlightenment. Yoga means joining 
 the mind to the Holy Spirit, and when the mind 
 is concentrated in a loving and reverent spirit 
 upon something it worships as holy, it absorbs and 
 is filled with the powers of the Holy Spirit, the 
 energy of the Soul, called yoga-powers. Go thou 
 back, holy Sir, to thy parents. Fill with love the 
 void thou hast made in their hearts by leaving 
 them in their old age. Satisfy them, give them 
 thy loving and devoted attention, and the gates 
 
40 Stones of India 
 
 of true understanding shall be opened nnto thee, 
 and the wisdom and spiritual gifts thou seekest 
 shall be thine. 
 
 "Look thou, Sir, my following the trade of a 
 hunter is but a part of my devotion to my parents. 
 While they live I shall do what they have done be- 
 fore me. And when my material services are no 
 longer needful to them, when they leave me for an- 
 other world, then I shall break my caste and enter 
 into the glades of the forest to seek undisturbed 
 my God in silence. But now my duty is here, and 
 a blessed privilege is mine to serve in reverence 
 these my parents, and walk in the laws of my 
 caste uncomplaining. The realization of this and 
 my adherence to it has alone been the means of 
 my spiritual powers." 
 
 In reverent silence the proud Brahman heard 
 and understood, and the jungle saw him not agam 
 at his accustomed seat until many years had 
 passed. When he again came to that jungle, a 
 kindly light gleamed in his face, and his glance 
 was soft and full of love, for by the absolute and 
 holy devotion he had bestowed upon the declining 
 years of his departed parents, he had learned 
 that love and duty to those nearest was the 
 strongest lever to spiritual power and illumina- 
 tion. 
 
THE EMPEROR AND THE SAGE. 
 
 Night reigned in the palace and all save the 
 sentinels and night servants were tucked away in 
 slumber. All save the emperor, he the king of all > 
 he surveyed, he the ruler of the many souls that 
 dwelt in his land, he the owner of countless 
 wealth, the lord and master of queen, prince, and 
 subjects. 
 
 He walked the broad length of his luxurious 
 halls and corridors, because he could not close his 
 eyes in slumber and rest his weary brain from the 
 problems of politics that filled it. He alone of all 
 his palace was denied the balm that came to the 
 lowliest and meanest of his people. Again and 
 again he had thrown himself upon the rich soft- 
 ness of his canopied bed ; he had counted the birds 
 embroidered in his coverlet, had gazed at the 
 jewels that studded the draperies which curtained 
 his sleeping place. Yet sleep came not to his eyes, 
 nor rest to his mind, nor peace to his heart. 
 
 Thus with wearied impatience he saw the break- 
 ing dawn spreading her broad hands in the east, 
 and as he watched her push aside the heavy 
 clouds of night, he spied just below his casement, 
 the figure of a man lying on a heap of ashes in 
 heavy sleep. "What!" thought he, "this poor 
 wretch sleepeth in perfect soundness with naught 
 'neath his body but the refuse of the earth and 
 
42 Stories of India 
 
 naught for a coverlet but the cajiopy of night. 
 Would I could rest thus even on my bed of down 
 and with my cloth of gold to cover me. ' ' 
 
 For a while he watched the sleeping man and 
 the breaking day, then in impatience threw open 
 the casement and shouted to the sleeper: ."Tell 
 me, thou, how canst thou sleep thus without bed 
 or house?" But the sleeper, wrapped in peaceful 
 slumber, heeded not nor heard. 
 
 Then the emperor summoned his servant and 
 ordered him to arouse the sleeper and bring him 
 to his imperial presence. 
 
 The servant departed, but nearing the sleeper 
 he saw in him one of the wandering hermits, who 
 were known as ascetics or holy men, who gave 
 great wisdom and carry with their wisdom bless- 
 ings wherever they go. So the servant dreaded 
 to arouse the holy man from his slumber, but 
 having the command of the king to fulfill, he 
 stooped over him, saying thus : " Oh holy sir, my 
 master the emperor calls to thee from the casement 
 of his palace. Much hath he been disturbed of 
 late and little rest hath he found either by day or 
 in the night, because of the weighty state matters. 
 I pray thee, forgive me my rude awakening of 
 thee and do thou answer make to his majesty the 
 emperor, who calleth to thee from yonder win- 
 dow." 
 
 The ascetic arose, went to the emperor, and with 
 a frown said: "Why didst thou have me dis- 
 
The E viper or and the Sage 43 
 
 turbed thus from my slumber, thou imperial 
 dog?" 
 
 The emperor smiled at this show of temper 
 which, however, he knew was feigned, though 
 rarely seen in the holy men of India, and said: 
 "Because, holy one, there is that which I would 
 ask thee and which I know thou in thy wisdom 
 and kindness will answer. I have seen thy bed 
 and envied it not, but when I looked upon thy 
 sleep, deep and peaceful, I envied thee much, and 
 I want to ask thee, how didst thou feel, when 
 sleeping on thy hard bed of ashes?" 
 
 The hermit looked into the tired, selfish face of 
 the emperor, then at the luxurious sleeping apart- 
 ment with its settings of gold and jewels, with its 
 bed of down and cloth of gold, and replied: "In 
 some respects equal to thee, in others better than 
 thou." 
 
 "In which way?" asked the emperor. 
 
 "Why," replied the hermit, "as soon as I fell 
 into sleep I forgot my body and knew not what 
 it rested upon, I forgot my bed of ashes and this 
 oblivion made my bed as good as thy bed of down. 
 But I felt better than thou after that, because my 
 mind, being innocent of all cares, enjoyed all rest- 
 ful slumber, which was denied thee, thou imperial 
 dog, thinking upon things which does not concern 
 thy real self, but makes thy body to groan wearily, 
 because of thy earth-filled mind." 
 
44 Stories of India 
 
 "Oh, holy man," said the emperor, "tell me, 
 how can I, who am tired and wearied because of 
 these warring elements in my heart gain this same 
 sweet peace and sound sleep that is thine, thou 
 who standest before me, clothed in rags and hav- 
 ing no home thou canst call thy ov/n, yet whose 
 face bespeaks the calmness of untroubled waters, 
 and whose body gives forth the glow of perfect 
 health. Tell me, thou bearer of wisdom, that I 
 may learn from thee." 
 
 The ascetic made answer: "By cultivating 
 peace of mind, by giving up fighting another dog 
 over a poor, fleshless bone. ' ' 
 
THE HERMIT AND THE HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 In long past days when there were no books to 
 teach men learning, but when men lived close to 
 Nature and heard the Word of God from all the 
 creation of God, when their ears were opened to 
 His love and greatness; when their eyes looked 
 into His face and saw therein the things that were 
 made for them to see; in those days when men 
 looked into their own hearts and saw there the 
 law that was to guide their lives and lead their 
 footsteps in the paths that He had made for them ; 
 in those days when men sought by the light from 
 within what their relation was to God and what 
 God's relation was to them, when they sought to 
 read the laws of Nature and thereby learn the laws 
 that ruled them; in those days there dwelt a King, 
 rich, arrogant and puffed up by the idea of his 
 great wisdom which, in reality, was not great at 
 all, but much exaggerated because of his position. 
 Nevertheless, he prided himself on his supposed 
 wisdom and would summon to his court all the 
 savants, pundits and holy men who were accorded 
 great in wisdom, and woe to the man whose opin- 
 ion differed from this fool who called himself wise, 
 for his freedom was no longer his and often he 
 died an ignoble death because his wisdom failed 
 to coincide with this haughty, arrogant King. 
 
46 Stories of India 
 
 One day a holy man was broug^ht to his court, 
 and among the questions of the King, this was 
 asked, "Who think you the greater, hermit, 
 the hermit (sanyasi), who goes into the wilder- 
 ness alone to seek his God, dedicating himself, life 
 and soul, to it, or he that remains in his home with 
 family and seeks there to realize his oneness with 
 the Father of All?" 
 
 Quick the hermit made reply, "The householder, 
 King, is the greater." 
 
 With a sneering laugh the King replied, "Then 
 why are you a hermit? Why are you not a house- 
 holder? You are an impostor and shall be made 
 to pay for it. Here, my guards, punish him as he 
 deserves. Take from him his freedom as a forfeit 
 for his inconsistency and behead him. ' ' 
 
 "One moment," said the prisoner, "Tell me, 
 King, who you think the greater, the household- 
 er or the hermit? Pray, tell me this as I wish to be 
 enriched by your knowledge before I die. ' ' 
 
 The King replied, "Why, a Sanyasi, of course. 
 He who leaves the world and all his goods to find 
 his God in silence and alone is greater, yea, great- 
 er by far than any householder who lives in the 
 world surrounded by the comforts of the house- 
 hold." 
 
 "If the Sanyasi is the greater of the two," said 
 the hermit, with a smile that spoke more than his 
 words, "then why are you, inconsistent one, not 
 in the wilderness now, clothed in the garments of 
 
The Hermit and the Householder 47 
 
 a hermit and seeking there to make your peace 
 with God? By your own reasoning, should not 
 your head too pay the penalty of your inconsist- 
 ency?" 
 
 The King was startled into silence for a moment 
 by the abruptness of the man's query, and the 
 hermit continued, "0 King, since by your count, 
 I am wrong, and by my count you are wrong, shall 
 we not seek to find the solution of this problem 
 so that each may know for himself who is the 
 greater— the hermit or the householder?" 
 
 The EUng, who felt himself fairly beaten for the 
 first time in his life, after some hesitation, accept- 
 ed the challenge, and the very next day, dis- 
 guised as a hermit, set out with the saint to leam 
 by observation and experience which of the two 
 were in the right. 
 
 Many miles they travelled and toward sunset 
 they reached the neighboring kingdom where ev- 
 erything and everybody seemed in holiday attire. 
 "Come," said the hermit to the disguised King, 
 ' 'there seems to be merry-making here. Let us see 
 what it is that has brought forth these garlands 
 and glad faces. " 
 
 Sure enough, following the people toward the 
 palace, they saw a maiden, fair as the morning, at- 
 tired in wedding clothes of rich silks, bejewelled 
 with rare and wondrous gems, her fingers and toes 
 stained with heina, her tresses behung with pearls, 
 standing on a low platform with a garland in her 
 
48 Stories of India 
 
 hands. Before her, in measured tread, walked an 
 array of princes of high birth and great prowess, 
 each gazing on her beauty, but each fearful that 
 he pleased not the eye of the only daughter of the 
 King, who stood thus waiting to find her choice 
 of husband among the worthy princes who had 
 been invited by her father, and who now passed 
 her by in that procession of wooing. 
 
 One by one they passed her and still the garland 
 failed to fall about the neck of the chosen one who 
 was to be her husband and rule with her the land 
 of her fathers. Proud and peerless she stood, smil- 
 ing on one and all who passed, but finding in none 
 of these the lover she sought, the lover who would 
 be her lord and master, who would rule her and 
 her kingdom, and not like these wooers who al- 
 ready had become captives and fallen slaves to her 
 beauty and her power. 
 
 Then from out the crowd issued a young hermit, 
 a youth with the radiance of innocence and faith 
 in God gleaming in his eyes and on his face. And 
 following the procession, he stood and gazed wide- 
 eyed and boldly right in the lady's face. He saw 
 her not as a woman, nor as princess, but as one of 
 the beautiful things created by God whom he wor- 
 shipped all his life. And thus he looked upon 
 her, and she, seeing him without fear of her power 
 and bowing not low to her beauty, threw the gar- 
 land round his head and she, the King's daughter, 
 the future queen of a kingdom, thereby made him, 
 
The Hermit and the Householder 49 
 
 by the law of the land, her husband until death 
 would them part and after. 
 
 Quick the ministers of state hurried to the 
 young husband and bowed before him. But the 
 youthful hermit heeded them not and strode on as 
 if to leave the throng. 
 
 "Thou must to the palace," spoke the minister. 
 
 "Nay, I must about my business," quoth the 
 hermit. 
 
 "The princess, thy wife, awaits thee," the min- 
 ister urged. 
 
 "Wife! Palace! I know not of them," exclaim- 
 ed the hermit, "but yonder in the green is my pal- 
 ace, and I wish no wife. Since childhood I have 
 lived there in the wilderness and there will I die. 
 I asked not to be wedded, so farewell, King's 
 daughter! I fly from thee and thy palace to live 
 and die a Sanyasi. ' ' 
 
 And so he left her, she so newly wed and forever 
 widowed. 
 
 ' ' See, ' ' said the onlooking disguised King in tri- 
 umph to the old hermit, his prisoner and compan- 
 ion, "see the greatness of this Sanyasi, who is not 
 tempted by so fair a wife nor yet by the great 
 honor put upon him. The greed of wealth and 
 rank disturbs him not and he knows not the desire 
 of pomp and glory. Rather would he dwell in for- 
 est glades and seek the wisdom of God in Nature's 
 cloistered aisles than dwell among men honored 
 
50 Stories of India 
 
 and great. Was I not ri|fht? The Sanyasi is 
 greater than a householder. ' ' 
 
 "Judge not yet, King," smiled the old San- 
 yasi in reply, "but let us on." 
 
 As they left the wailing wife, the city of merry- 
 making suddenly grew full of woe by the calamity 
 that had come upon their loved princess. But the 
 royal and holy searchers of the solution of the 
 problem went toward the forest where night soon 
 overtook them. 
 
 An hour later, cold and hungry, the King, sitting 
 under a tree, said to the hermit who leaned against 
 its trunk, as if in sleep, "I was a fool, henrdt, to 
 follow thee in quest of wisdom. Surely, I would 
 have shown wisdom to have remained in my pal- 
 ace where my bed awaits me and my food is ready. 
 This is not to my liking. ' ' 
 
 But receiving no reply from the hermit, he gath- 
 ered such dry leaves as he could find and made for 
 himself a bed, and then searched about in vain to 
 find a light to build a fire complaining all the 
 while of the cold and hunger that overtook him. 
 
 Above them in the tree, two little parrots, as big 
 as the clenched fist of a dainty maiden, sat and 
 looked upon the intruders, and this is what they 
 said in the language that birds use when they solve 
 the philosophy of life : 
 
 ' ' little wife, ' ' said the one to the other, ' 'thou, 
 the best part of my home, awake, for wayfaring 
 guests are below and one complained loudly of the 
 
The Hermit and the Householder 51 
 
 cold. Oh sad am I that I cannot offer the warmth 
 of hospitality ! Grievous is the sin of my inability 
 to make them comfortable. It is no doubt the ful- 
 fillment of my bad Karma that leaves me helpless 
 in the face of my guest's discomfort!" 
 
 "Wait," chirped the little wife, "see, yonder is 
 a light, perhaps a bonfire made by some wayfarer. 
 I will go and bring a light. ' ' 
 
 And away she flew, returning with a tiny light- 
 ed twig. Deftly she dropped it upon the heap of 
 dry leaves that the King had made. 
 
 "Hullo ! Here is a fire ! ' ' exclaimed the King in 
 delight and in a short time a blazing fire was 
 warming his cold-nipped hands. 
 
 But soon again the King complained to the ap- 
 parently sleeping hermit, "I cannot sleep while 
 thou seemest to sleep so well. My hunger is too 
 great for sleep. Would I were home so I might eat 
 what is awaiting me. ' ' 
 
 " nearest thou," said the husband-bird, "he, my 
 guest, is hungry and there is nothing to feed him. 
 What shall I do? Great is the punishment that 
 awaits those who feed not the hungry at their door 
 and sad is the plight that has overtaken my house 
 when a guest is ahungered and is not fed." 
 
 Long they reasoned and bemoaned their lot 
 when all at once the little husband-bird said unto 
 the wife, 
 
 " It is the only way. Thou hast been a good and 
 true wife to me. Thy presence has ever brought 
 
52 Stories of India 
 
 joy to my heart and luck to my house. Thou hast 
 been all a wife should be. Farewell, and may thou 
 be my wife in my next birth ! ' ' 
 
 And lo, the little bird plunged himself down- 
 ward into the bonfire so that his guest that was 
 hungry might be fed ! 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the King, "this is luck. Some bird 
 dazzled by the flame has fallen into it. It will 
 maJce a sweet morsel for my hungry self. ' ' 
 
 And depleting the little maina of its feathers, he 
 roasted it over the fire and ate it. 
 
 "But," said he, when he had gulped it down in 
 a moment, ' ' 'tis but enough to whet the appetite, 
 not to satisfy it. Would my hunger might be ap- 
 peased." 
 
 And the lonely little wife-bird sat overhead and 
 saw her husband disappear and heard the King 
 grumble still in his hunger. 
 
 "0 husband," she cried with plaintive chirp, 
 ing, "his hunger is not satisfied even by thy sweet 
 self. I shall make thy sacrifice complete and ful- 
 fill the law of hospitality of this household. ' ' 
 
 And so saying, she drew her wings about her 
 quivering little body and fell into the fire at the 
 feet of the King. 
 
 "The gods smile upon me, ' ' cried the King again 
 as he picked the feathers from the faithful breast 
 of the little housewife. And roasting her over the 
 fire, he ate the bird and fell into a sleep beside the 
 
The Hermit and the Householder 53 
 
 still burning fire, an uninvited guest in the house 
 of those who had given their lives for him. 
 
 With the waking dawn the King opened his eyes 
 to find the hermit still leaning against the trunk of 
 the tree, but his eyes were fixed upon him. 
 
 "Come," he said, "the day breaks. I will put 
 you on your way toward your home. ' ' 
 
 "Why," said the King, "with the problem still 
 unsolved, that we set out to settle?" 
 
 "It is solved," replied the holy man. 
 
 "Wherein," asked the King, "lies the solution 
 of it?" 
 
 The holy one, who had dwelt in the jungle and 
 had learned the laws of love and life on Nature's 
 breast, told him of the little drama that had been 
 enacted above their heads that night and the re- 
 sult of it. He, the holy one, at one with fTature 
 and at one with God, had also been at one with the 
 understanding of the little feathered householders. 
 
 "And I thought," said the King, with wonder- 
 widened eyes, "pure chance had lighted the leaves 
 at my feet for my warming and that better chance 
 had thrust those two wee birds into the fire to stop 
 my hunger." 
 
 "There is no chance, all is law," answered the 
 wise one. "There was merit, King," he contin- 
 ued, "in the young Sanyasi thrusting the great 
 honor of being a ruler of a kingdom and a King's 
 wealth aside to go into the wilderness as a humble 
 worshipper of God; yet he had from childhood 
 
54 Stories of India 
 
 thus lived, seeking wisdom and through wisdom 
 he found happiness in renunciation and realiza- 
 tion. But greater than he are those two house- 
 holders whom these wee creatures represented to 
 thee last night. Blessed, many times blessed, and 
 of greater merit is the householder who, in the 
 midst of turmoil and temptation, finds his at-one- 
 ment with his Father and through that at-one-ment 
 does his duty of a householder even to the giving 
 up of his life to serve that duty. So, King, thou 
 seest that the householder and the saint are alike 
 in spirit. One gives up worldly gain and retires 
 into the wilderness to love his God undisturbed; 
 the other, in the midst of worldly temptations, 
 gives up the world to fulfill the duties of the 
 householder." 
 
ALL FOR THE GOOROO'S BOOKS 
 
 There was once a holy man who dwelt with his 
 disciple in a little hut at the edge of a small vil- 
 lage. Each day, at sundown, the villagers gath- 
 ered about this little hut to hear the words of 
 wisdom which this holy man spoke and to gain 
 therefrom the strength to sustain their souls and 
 live their lives in peace and love. 
 
 One day deep commotion reigned in the hearts 
 of these simple people for the holy man had pro- 
 claimed to them that he would, on the following 
 morning, start on a long pilgrimage to the holy 
 places of the land,. It would be four years before 
 he would return to them. He blessed them all 
 and begged them to be kind to his young disciple 
 whom he would leave in their care, and told them 
 to come each day at sunset as usual and listen 
 to the words of wisdom that his disciple would 
 read to them from the Scriptures. With loving 
 hearts the villagers promised to do his bidding. 
 
 Next morning the Gooroo entrusted his be- 
 loved Holy Books to his beloved disciple admon- 
 ishing him to take great care of them, and, above 
 all, to guard them against the mice who oftimes 
 played the mischief among them. Heavy-hearted 
 and sad the young disciple heard all his injunc- 
 tions, vowing within himself to guard his master's 
 beloved books even with his life if need be. 
 
56 Stories of India 
 
 So the holy one started forth on his holy 
 journey and the disciple arranged the books in 
 order and sat up all night in readiness to ward off 
 the malicious danger of the mice, beating about 
 the books with a stick to scare them away. And 
 thus he passed the first night sleepless but alert 
 for the coming of the enemy. 
 
 The next evening the villagers assembled to 
 hear the disciple read the words of wisdom from 
 the master's books, but the young man seemed 
 tired and lifeless. Questioning him as to the cause 
 of it, they learned that he had not slept because of 
 his promise to his Gooroo to guard his precious 
 Scriptures. 
 
 "Well," said the villagers among themselves, 
 "bring the boy a cat to drive away the mice, so 
 he can rest knowing the books are safe. ' ' 
 
 The cat was therefore brought, but with the 
 coming of the cat, the disciple again became 
 troubled because of the lack of milk to feed the 
 cat. The villagers again put their heads together 
 to remove this trouble of the disciple who had 
 been entrusted to their keeping. They decided to 
 give him a cow to supply the milk for the cat who 
 was to guard the precious books of the master 
 who had gone on a pilgrimage to visit all the holy 
 places of the land. 
 
 Now the holy one had taught his disciple the 
 worth of a cow, that the cow was the most sacred 
 animal, the second mother of humanity, the nour- 
 
All for the Gooroo's Books 57 
 
 isher of every human life in infancy, for is not 
 every babe sustained by cow's milk, and above 
 all, was not the cow the most loved animal of 
 their Lord God? Krishna, Himself, when he 
 walked on earth as a youth, had, on His own 
 choice, become even a cowherd. 
 
 All this the young disciple remembered and re- 
 membering it, he worshipped the cow as a mother 
 and served her with great care and fondness, and 
 because of it he was not always ready to read to 
 the villagers the wisdom they came to hear from 
 the Gooroo's books. 
 
 "Now," said the villagers, "this boy, in his 
 conscientiousness, is overly busy with serving the 
 cow. Let us send to him the little Brahman maid- 
 en, who hath neither mother nor father to take 
 from him the work of serving the cow, so he may 
 be ready to read to us from the Book of Wisdom 
 when we come every evening at sundown as the 
 master bade us to do. " 
 
 So it was that Brinda, the little Brahman or- 
 phan, first came to serve the Brabman disciple, 
 and lo, at her coming, the house was filled with 
 sunshine and tasks vanished from beneath her 
 little brown fingers as if by magic! The hut 
 echoed with her soft songs and the cow pricked up 
 her ears and bellowed at her coming. So as time 
 went on, the poor Brahman lad sat by the hour 
 and gazed into the moon knowing not what the 
 sweet pain was that filled his heart even more 
 
58 Stones of India 
 
 than the greatest truths that his Gooroo had 
 given him, and oft, in the midst of his readings 
 from the sacred Scriptures at sundown, he halted 
 and sought in the crowd of peering dark eyes, the 
 dancing ones with the downcast lids of the little 
 Brahman maiden who came each mom to serve 
 him and left him each eve taking with her the sun- 
 shine of his heart and hut. 
 
 And so time passed and soon the villagers noted 
 that the disciple was in love with the little maid, 
 and, because of it, he pined in the hopelessness of 
 his position, for was he not an ascetic disciple of 
 the holy man, and was it not expected, therefore, 
 that he must never wed? 
 
 And so the villagers again put together their 
 many and wise heads 'and took counsel among 
 themselves. 
 
 "It is best" they decided in whispers. "The 
 little Brinda is alone in the world. He is of her 
 own caste. The holy man has made us guardians 
 over him and since he pines for the maid and the 
 maid for him, we shall have them wedded and that 
 will be the best from all sides. ' ' 
 
 And thus the little Brinda became the wife of 
 the disciple who lived in the hut and served the 
 cow that fed the cat that killed the mice that 
 threatened the books that belonged to the holy 
 man who was on his pilgrimage to all the holy 
 places of the land. 
 
All for the Gooroo's Books 59 
 
 And the years passed and with the fourth there 
 came a^ain to the village the holy man who had 
 traveled into many places to view the sacred spots 
 on his pilgfrimage. And he hurried to the edge of 
 the village to find his hut and clasp again to his 
 breast his disciple, the dear boy whom he had left 
 in charge of his home and the books. But he 
 could not find his hut. In its pla<!e stood a newly 
 built house and around it aJI a wall that pro- 
 claimed it the home of a householder. 
 
 Wonderingly he called aloud to the custodian 
 of the house and the disciple appeared wearing no 
 more in his face the look of the ascetic but bearing 
 in his left arm a year old baby and his right hand 
 clasping the little hand of a three-year-old boy, 
 who had the dancing eyes of Brinda and the look 
 of the young disciple in their sweet faces. 
 
 On seeing the holy man before him, all the accu- 
 mulated fears of his broken vows of the past years 
 rushed upon his mind. He saw himself again in 
 the little hut with his Master listening to the 
 slokas that were to make of him also a holy man. 
 He saw himself performing the holy austerities 
 that were to lead to renunciation, he saw himself 
 living a life at one with God in the wilderness. 
 Then startled by this sudden rousing of old mem- 
 ories, he threw himself at the feet of his Master, 
 rolled in the dust made wet by his rushing tears 
 and cried: 
 
60 Stories of India 
 
 "It all came about to save your books, Goo- 
 roo ! To keep away the mice a cat was brought. 
 To feed the cat a cow was brought. To serve the 
 cow the maid Brinda came. To save myself I 
 married her, and these babies are the fruits there- 
 of. All for the sake of your books, Gooroo, all 
 for the sake of your books ! ' ' 
 
THE YOGI AND THE HUNTER. 
 
 A soft, brown fluttering thing— a bird with a 
 shaft canght fast in its blood-spread breast fell at 
 the feet of the ensilenced Yogi, who for hours had 
 sat in deep meditation at the foot of a broad- 
 branching tree in the green heart of a jungle. The 
 hunter, following the path of his fljring arrow, 
 found himself thus confronted by the Yogi, who, 
 rudely awakened from his trance-like attitude, 
 looked upon him rebukingly. 
 
 Now in this land of castes and spirituality, he 
 that is a slayer of living things, be they large or 
 small, bird or beast, is out of the pale of aU castes 
 and is considered so unclean that his very touch is 
 regarded as pollution. So great was the fear and 
 consternation that overcame the hunter when he 
 found himself before the Yogi, that he quickly 
 prostrated himself to him and said : 
 
 ' ' thou holy one, forgive me for having intrud- 
 ed upon thy meditation. I know how unseemly it 
 is for such as I, who make my living by the hunt- 
 ing and slaying of flesh, to come before thee. But 
 I saw thee not, as thou didst sit in stillness. I saw 
 only the bird perched upon the bough above thy 
 head, and so intent was I upon its slaying that ev- 
 erything else v/as blotted from my sight. So I beg 
 thee to forgive me and allow me to depart in 
 peace>. Do not follow me with, thy anger, Yogi, 
 
62 Stories of India 
 
 for having brought my unclean presence before 
 thee." 
 
 The Yogi, looking upon him wrathf uUy, said : 
 
 "Thou hast aroused me from my silence. Thou 
 hast caused a dead thing to fall upon me, thou hast 
 polluted my atmosphere by thy unclean presence. 
 And because of this, I could, by the power of my 
 wrath, cause thee to die. ' ' 
 
 The frightened hunter writhed. 
 
 "But do it not, kind sir," he implored again, 
 helplessly, "I pray thee, do it not. I know it for 
 certain that though I fly to moimtain heights or 
 sink to the deeps of the ocean, thou, in thy wrath, 
 couldst reach me there. So do it not, spirit- 
 potent one ! I am too small for thy power. But ask 
 any service thou wilt of me, for the expiation of 
 my unconscious wrong to thee, and I will render 
 it to my uttermost might. Only do not visit thy 
 wrath upon me, holy sir, for the sake of my wife 
 and my little ones, who would perish for want of 
 life's sustenance if I am no more, for I am their 
 only provider. If thou wilt forgive me and let me 
 go, I shall never cross thy path again or come with- 
 in a long radius of your holy seat." 
 
 The Yogi looked at the hunter with unchanged 
 sternness and then said : 
 
 "Go thou, then, since thou wouldst serve me 
 and thus escape my anger. Go thou far and broad 
 into this forest and iind thou my boy, my truant 
 boy who comes not at my call, but wanders ever 
 
The Yogi and the Hunter 63 
 
 away, sometimes near, sraaetimes far, aye, ever in 
 waywardness strays from me thoug^h I long for 
 him. Go, seek him, find him and bring him to me. 
 Krishna is his name. Call upon his name and he 
 will come to thee and thou wilt bring him to me. 
 Thus canst thou only escape the punishment thou 
 so richly d«servest, and return to thy home and 
 people untouched by my wrath." 
 
 The hunter repeated the name slowly, "Krishna, 
 Krishna. " " Tell me, Yogi, ' ' he asked, ' ' how he 
 looks, and I will hunt the jungle day and night 
 and bring him to thee if he is to be found therein. ' ' 
 
 A slow smile of peace came upon the face of the 
 Yogi, as he answered: 
 
 ' ' The boy thou art to bring before me is of great 
 beauty and grace. His garment is of rich and rare 
 texture and gold in color. His complexion is dark, 
 but with unchanging light of unwavering love 
 gleaming from within until color is quite lost in 
 the glory of that light. His brow is crowned by 
 three peacock plumes, and in his hands he bears a 
 flute upon which he makes strains of music that 
 cause all hearts to throb in ecstasy because of its 
 sweetness. This is the boy I will have thee find. 
 And if thou art so fortunate as to catch him and 
 bring him hither, thou shalt not only gain my for- 
 giveness, but my blessing shall be with thee from 
 now unto all life. ' ' 
 
 Happy in this given promise, the hunter rushed 
 into the jungle calling the name "Krishna, Krish- 
 
64 Stories of India 
 
 na, ' ' until the echo fell fainter and fainter on the 
 ears of the silent Yogi who listened with a still 
 smile on his lips. 
 
 And so the days passed until three were gone, 
 when suddenly the hunter appeared before the 
 Yogi, footsore and weary, and said unto him: 
 
 ' ' holy sir, I see the boy often when I call his 
 name, but only as a flash, and then he is gone 
 again. Oftimes^ in the far distance, I hear the 
 sweet strain of his flute as if in answer to my call. 
 But ever, as I follow it, and seem to come upon 
 him, lo, he is nUt therei! And again from the far 
 distance the flute I hear, and the flash of his 
 garment I behold, and then, woe is me! — he van- 
 ishes, or is too far in the distance for me to over- 
 taJjc him. Once, sir, I caught the flash of his 
 eyef. Oh, wondrous eye it was ! And it seemed to 
 me I must follow forever to again see the flash 
 thereof. And I wonder not, sir, that thou art 
 sad, and wouldst have this wayward, but be- 
 wilderingly beautiful boy with thee. But I have 
 come back to thee tired and worn, to tell thee that 
 he eludes me ever, and empty-handed, my quest in 
 vain, I beg thee to allow me to return to my wife 
 and children, who ere now must have missed me 
 sorely." 
 
 While the hunter was speaking, the Yogi sat 
 gazing at him with wonder slowly growing in his 
 eyes of wisdom, and when he paused, he said : 
 
The Yogi and the Hunter 65 
 
 "Away, thou fortunate one! Bring to me this 
 boy. Call upon him, follow him, catch him and 
 fetch him to me, else never expect mercy from 
 me." 
 
 And again the hunter hurried away, calling 
 "Krishna, Krishna," until the jungle rang and 
 echoed and re-echoed with that name. To and fro 
 he rushed ever calling, calling, now chasing here 
 now there, gazing into the thickets, peering behind 
 the trees and ajion crawling through the interlac- 
 ed branches of undergrowths, until again the days 
 and nights were passed. But he knew not of the 
 passing because of the wild joy in the chase of the 
 boy who lured him from the distances by the 
 glance of his eye exquisite and the strains of his 
 flute entrancing, until he once more stood before 
 the Yogi. But this time he was not footsore or 
 weary or frightened, but with flushed cheek, tri- 
 umphant brow and glad voice he called forth: 
 
 "Here, Yogi, is he whom thou seekest. Long 
 and hard have I chased him, and ever and again 
 hath he eluded me. But elusive and mischievous 
 as he is, I have caught him at last and bring him 
 to thee. For three days I followed the gleam of his 
 golden garment, the flutter of his mantle in the 
 breeze, the waving of his peacock plumes and the 
 strains of his flute. Hither and thither he darted, 
 flashed the beauty of his eye upon me, and then the 
 splendor of his smile which quite outrivalled the 
 jewel on his breast. But I have him now. I bring 
 
66 Stories of India 
 
 him to thee though he even now struggles to flee 
 from me. But he cannot. I hold him tight. And 
 now that I come to give him to thee, I cajlnot, I 
 cannot; for his glance heis made me forget the 
 world, his smile has made me forget all that it 
 holds, his flute has filled me with longings for that 
 which only his beauty can satisfy. Though he is 
 thine, Yogi, oh let him be mine also. Let me 
 stay here, I pray thee, to serve thee, so that I may 
 be near him and look upon him always. ' ' 
 
 The Yogi stared at the glorified mein of the 
 hunter who seemed to be grasping something 
 which struggled to escape, but v/hich the Yogi 
 could not see. "What art thou saying?" he said, 
 " I see no boy with thee. I see only thee. ' ' 
 
 "Why!" the hunter exclaimed in surprise, 
 "dost thou not see thy boy, Krishna, whom I hold 
 here? Come, take him, lest he escape again." 
 
 Intently the Yogi gazed toward him, and close 
 at the side of the hunter, there flashed before his 
 vision the outline of a figure— shadowy, faint, en- 
 trancing. It gleamed for an instant, then van- 
 ished, though the hunter still struggled to hold the 
 figure beside him. 
 
 Then the Yogi rose and fell at the feet of the 
 hunter and said : 
 
 ' ' fortunate one ! man that is blest beyond 
 human ken ! Thou art a Yogi of the highest rank 
 and I am an outcast compared to thee. Didst thou 
 call me a holy Yogi and thyself an untouchable 
 
The Yogi and the Hunter 67 
 
 pariah? The reverse is the truth. Whoever like 
 thee has searched and reached and gasped the 
 Holy of holies is the holiest Brahman, the highest 
 saint, the greatest Yogi; and whoever, like me, 
 has failed to do so, is a pariah, a false saint, anH 
 of unclean soul and body, though born a Brahman 
 and trained in Yoga. It was to serve thee that I 
 frightened thee, with mock anger, into turning thy 
 mind from the killing of life to the Source of All 
 Life, for I saw thee possessed of absolute concen- 
 tration born of thy past birth. This I recognized 
 when I saw how thou couldst see a bird above my 
 head and yet not see that head, yea, couldst see 
 only that bird to the exclusion of all else. I was 
 right, for by the power of that absolute concentra- 
 tion thou hast in six days found what I have 
 sought in vain in silent ipeditation for a life time. 
 Dost thou know whom thou beholdest, thou un- 
 conscious one? It is the Seedless One, yet the Seed 
 of all Creation. He is the Lord of Love, the Youth 
 Eternal and yet the Ancient of All Ages. He the 
 Soul of the Universe— the Supreme Being in Man- 
 ifest form, the Lover and Beloved of All— Krishna 
 Himself!" 
 
REAL RENUNCIATION. 
 
 The feast was over. Tlie king had dismissed his 
 royal guests and sought his chamber. Through 
 the halls of crystal and jasper he walked, look- 
 ing neither to the right nor left, noting not the 
 beauty which surrounded him on all sides, nor the 
 train of men that awaited the slightest nod of his 
 head or wave of his hajid, as a command. Straight 
 to his chambers he made his way and passed into 
 the inner richness, wherein it seemed all the 
 beauty and luxury of a whole world had been 
 stored. 
 
 But at the side of his bed he paused amazed, 
 indignant and angered beyond expression, for 
 resting in its silken folds, her hair disheveled, her 
 toil-stained hands outstretched in languorous ease, 
 lay a dark-browed maid. She, a slave girl, one of 
 the meanest and lowliest of his household, wrapt 
 in deep sleep upon the couch that had never held 
 on its lap of down anybody save his royal self. 
 
 Quick he called his servants. "Take her and 
 give her fifty lashes upon her bare back, ' ' was his 
 stern command. 
 
 The slave girl sprang from sleep and stood be- 
 fore the king, trembling and speechless. Unpar- 
 donable her sin had been, she knew. But, oh, the 
 work had been hard, and, tired beyond words she 
 had been. On entering the apartment of the king 
 
Real Renunciation 69 
 
 to perform some menial duty, she had spied the 
 luxurious comfort of that bed of gold and jewels, 
 with its downy softness and richness, and a wild 
 desire had come into her head to know just for 
 once how it felt to recline thereon. So she had 
 thrown herself upon it, and in that heaven of joy 
 and rest that had come to her, and the seconds that 
 followed, the girl had dropped off into an entranc- 
 ing slumber, out of which she was now so harshly 
 and roughly awakened by the anger of the king's 
 voice ajid the brutal hands of the servants as they 
 sought to lead her to her punishment. 
 
 For a second she turned at the door of the apart- 
 ment as the servants were leading her away, then 
 burst forth into a wild, shrill, yet silvery laugh. 
 Peal after peal rang through the palace, waking 
 the sleeping echoes of corridor and hall. Still 
 more amazed, the king looked after the girl. 
 ' ' What ! ' ' thought he. ' ' This girl pleadeth not for 
 mercy, but laughs as if a rare sport confronted 
 her and not punishment. What means it?" And 
 turning to her, he said: "Why laughest thou, 
 slave? Thy merriment soon shall become a dance 
 of pain. Speak— why laughest thou thus?" 
 
 "Oh, your majesty!" she replied, "I was just 
 thinking, if five minuites ' sleep upon your bed of 
 down and ease brings to my back fifty stripes, 
 what would be the punishment to him who lieth 
 upon it twelve hours out of each twenty-four, for 
 years ! ' ' 
 
70 Stories of India 
 
 Thoughtful the king became in an instant and, 
 sending away his servants, said to the maid, who 
 now stood before him pale and affrighted because 
 of the boldness of her words: "0 little maiden, 
 slave thou art and lowliest of all my servants, thou 
 hast taught me a lesson, and a teacher of great 
 wisdom hast thou been unto me. Depart in peace, 
 thou hast made me a wiser man this day ! ' ' 
 
 So all day and all night the king sat in silence, 
 meditating on the words of the little slave girl. 
 For the mistake of resting five minutes upon his 
 bed, he would have commanded fifty stripes of 
 pain to be given on the back of this poor child. 
 Yet he, quite covered with blunders and mistakes, 
 with sins and crimes, rested thereon one-half of 
 his life ! Was he worthy to enjoy all that his pal- 
 ace offered? Had he deserved all the blessings 
 that had been showered upon him? Had he 
 thought of others and been to them all that his 
 position intended him to be? Protector of the 
 people! Or had he lived only for himself, being 
 shrouded in self, and thereby turned life into a 
 curse for others and himself? 
 
 Thus he thought, and in the morning of the next 
 day he threw aside his robes of state, his garments 
 of wondrous richness, his jewels and trappings; 
 and, robing himself even as the lowliest of his 
 people, went forth into the jungle to sit and medi- 
 tate, even as did the holy men and hermits. 
 
Real Renunciation 71 
 
 A clay and night passed and he had eaten noth- 
 ing. Yet, though he felt hungry, he cared not for 
 food, for so weary with self and overburdened 
 with his sin had he become, that he cared only to 
 be shorn from them. But in the noon hour of the 
 second day, a man appeared with rich food and 
 placed it before the king and begged him to par- 
 take thereof. Just then the king spied the figure 
 of a hermit coming slowly toward him ; and, point- 
 ing to the viands that stood beside him, he said: 
 "Brother, wilt not thou too take of the food 
 which this good man hath brought unto me, the 
 unworthiest of all among men?" 
 
 The hermit replied: "Strange it seemeth to me 
 that thou, who hath sat in meditation but for 
 twenty-four hours, wouldst be honored thus! 
 What is thy merit that the good things of- life come 
 to thee even yplthout the asking, while I, who 
 have lived in the jungle these twelve years, receive 
 but the coarsest of food, and for that I must beg? 
 I see but the greatest injustice and partiality in 
 this, which in the world of the hermits should be 
 entirely omitted. ' ' 
 
 Then he who brought the food, looked at the 
 angry hermit, who in the bitterness of his jealousy 
 had turned to go without even touching the food, 
 and said : " sir, this man but twenty-four hours 
 ago reigned as king in a king's palace, with a 
 king's power over millions of beings; but by the 
 inner promptings of holiness he has resigned all 
 
72 Stories of India 
 
 his worldly power to sit here and meditate upon 
 the power of the Most High ! A life of luxury and 
 ease and pleasure has he foregone, to live hence- 
 forth on the crumbs that fall from the table of a 
 poor man. To a man of greatness and holiness 
 have I brought food, begging him to eat thereof, 
 that I might be blessed for the giving. And thou, 
 sir, what art thou? Ever a poor man thou 
 v/ert, a grass cutter. Never hadst thou known 
 aught but abject poverty and discomfort. May- 
 hap thou didst give up this meager life because of 
 its material wants, to dwell here and meditate, 
 thus receiving more of the blessings of life in flesh 
 and spirit. But he, this pampered king of enormous 
 wealth and power, hath given up a kingdom to 
 become even the lowliest among men, while thou, 
 a famished grass cutter, hath given up but r 
 sc3rthe, to become honored as a saint." 
 
THE HERMIT AND THE VILLAGER 
 
 In a village of India, the land of learning and 
 mystical lore, of picturesque princes and gentle- 
 eyed peasants, there once lived a man who had an 
 only son. Now, this son represented to his father 
 all that was good and beautiful and v/ise, and of- 
 ten the father prayed in gratefid fervor to the 
 Lord of all Creatures for the blessing of this his 
 only son. 
 
 It chanced one day that this rare son became 
 ill and great were the lamentations of the father 
 and greater still the fears of the mother when they 
 realized that this illness which had overtaken their 
 son could not be met by the man of medicine and 
 herb that had been called to bring relief to the 
 sufferer. 
 
 Now, at the edge of the village, near the foot- 
 hills of the mountains, there had lived for years 
 a hermit. The inhabitants of the village had 
 looked upon him as a man of great holiness. So 
 the father of the dsrLng youth hastened to this her- 
 mit, and, after prostrating himself before him, 
 said: 
 
 "0 holy one, my son, my only son, lies dying. 
 Pray, give to him the blessing of thy thought and 
 touch so that health may come to him again and 
 he may fill our home with gladness which is now 
 shadowed by the wings of death." 
 
74 Stories of India 
 
 The hermit looked upon the kneeling figure at 
 his feet and, lifting up his eyes to the sky with a 
 radiant smile, he cried : 
 
 "0 Rama! God! All Thou doest is the best." 
 
 Whereupon the father of the sick boy grew im- 
 patient and said within himself : 
 
 "What is this! I come for consolation to this 
 hermit who is known among the villagers as a 
 great saint and he but answers my cry with this 
 poor comfort that the Lord has done well to strike 
 my loved one with illness, perhaps death." 
 
 And thus in deep discontent he left the holy 
 man who raised his hand in blessing to him mur- 
 muring all the while, "0 God! Rama! Thou 
 doest all things for the best." 
 
 So the days passed and again the villager stood 
 before the hermit, bent with grief and sorrow and 
 said, "0 holy one! He, my only one, is gone! 
 The light of my house has vanished. He is dead 
 and we are unable to bear our bereavement. Oh 
 give me comfort, my son is no more ! ' ' 
 
 And again the hermit raised his eyes to the 
 heavens and sang in praise, "0 my God, Rama! 
 Thou doest all for the best ! ' ' 
 
 At this the bereaved father waxed wroth and 
 strode away vowing vengeance on the hermit who, 
 he supposed, mocked him in his sorrow, for his 
 grief had blinded him to everything save the pain 
 of his loss. 
 
The Hermit and the Villager 75 
 
 That night, when the world was asleep and all 
 earth was awake and the sky bent low to cover 
 the sleeping children of the world with her health- 
 giving mantle, the father strode forth from his 
 home to meet the hermit who made so light of his 
 great grief. He would punish him as he deserved 
 to be punished. He would kill him, so that he 
 would never more be able to give a stone where 
 bread was asked. This hard-hearted hermit, he 
 vowed to himself, should never more wear the 
 cloth of a holy man and thus cheat the people in 
 believing him a saint when in reality he was but a 
 wolf in sheep's clothing. 
 
 Thus blinded to everything but his grief and the 
 fancied insult put upon it, he made straight to the 
 cot where the holy man was wont to sit in medita- 
 tion and prayer at this very hour. But the her- 
 mit was not there. Contrary to his custom of 
 many years, he had set out for the little brook 
 v/here he was wont to bathe his feet and head 
 earlier than usual and had remained there to see 
 the coming of the night and watch the waking of 
 the stars. 
 
 And thus he chanted his prayers at the brooklet 
 while the enraged villager waited his return. The 
 hours wore away and the inpatient madman at 
 last remembered that the brooklet was a favorite 
 haunt of the hermit. He had it, he said to him- 
 self, he would wait close to the brook and as the 
 
76 Stories of India 
 
 hermit would pass the thicket near, he would' 
 spring upon him and fell him to earth so that 
 his mocking should cease forever. 
 
 Meanwhile the holy man, blissfully unconscious 
 of the fate that awaited him at the turn of the 
 road, walked along chanting his prayer and prais- 
 ing the Lord for the beauties of the night, calling 
 down blessing on man and beast, when suddenly 
 he stumbled, and would have fallen but for a tree 
 upon which he caught himself. "0 Rama!" he 
 cried, "thou hast done the very best thing! 
 Rama thou doest all things for the best! It is a 
 warning of thine, bidding me seek another road 
 homeward." And turning, he followed back the 
 road he had taken and plunged into the forest to 
 reach his home by another path. 
 
 The villager saw and followed him. Since fate 
 had played into the hands of the hermit this time, 
 he would foUow him and overtake him and strike 
 him down with the club he carried with him even 
 now. He kept the hermit in view, and, just as he 
 was gaining upon him, he saw by the light of the 
 moon the hermit plunge forward and disappear 
 from sight. 
 
 Quickly he rushed to the spot and there found 
 the hermit lying at the foot of a small hiU, his 
 face gleaming ghastly in the moonlight and the 
 blood trickling cruelly over his brow. ' ' God ! 
 R§,ma!" he heard coming faintly from the holy 
 
The Hermit and the Villager 77 
 
 man's lips, "Thou hast done the very best thing! 
 Rama! Thou doest all things for the best!" 
 
 Like a flash the villager comprehended the deep 
 meaning of those words as they reached him. The 
 revelation struck him like a thunderbolt. So this 
 was the man he in his rage would have slain, the 
 man who, half buried 'neath a rock, cut, bleeding, 
 perhaps dying, could still lift his hands in bless- 
 ing and say, "0 Rama! Thou doest this for the 
 best!" 
 
 As he thought this he hurried where the holy 
 man lay and dragged him from the presstire of the 
 rock, and, fetching some water, bathed his bleed- 
 ing brow. Then he said : 
 
 "0 holy one! Dark and deadly was the thought 
 that prompted me to follow and find thee this 
 night. Cruelly was my heart rent by thy words 
 when I came to thee with a breaking heart over 
 the loss of my loved son, and great was the rage 
 that shook my soul and called out in vengeance 
 against thee. But now I know and understand 
 all thou meanest, thou who seest good in aJl the 
 evil that befalleth mankiad. Thou who seest 
 blessing in the taking away of my son, as in the 
 pain that now is upon thee. Forgive me, holy 
 one, do thou forgive me ! Thee, whom I followed 
 to kill this night, let me, oh let me lead to thy 
 home." 
 
 "0 Rama!" cried the holy man, "Thou doest 
 all things for the best! Thou hast given me a 
 
78 Stories of India 
 
 needle-prick in the place of a sword-thrust ! Thou 
 hast, in Thy kindness, thus thrown a rock upon 
 me to avoid this man who, in the blindness of his 
 wrath, would have killed me. Thy humblest and 
 most unworthy servant. Verily, Rama! Thou 
 doest all things for the best ! ' ' 
 
MATCHING THE PEARL 
 A True Story of Hindoo Royalty. 
 
 The courtiers and ministers, the princes and 
 vassal chiefs waited in the audience chamber for 
 the coming of the King. But lately, Maharajah 
 Amar Singh had mounted the throne of his fath- 
 ers, he the last and youngest of the long line of 
 uncountable Rajpoot Kings of Kishenpore. With 
 his coming of age he had brought to his House a 
 bride, a daughter of the Royal House of Radhpore, 
 a maid as sweet and bright and winsomely fair as 
 ever had reigned mistress and queen in the home 
 of her lord. 
 
 And while those in the throne-room waited in 
 covered impatience, he, the young Rajah, loitered 
 in the innermost chamber of his palace and heard 
 with delight the commands of love that fell from 
 the lips of his little queen who ruled the kingdom 
 of his heart with the jewelled sceptre of youth 
 and beauty. 
 
 And weU might he loiter in .this bower of love 
 where the lights fed by perfumed oil cast their 
 glow and shed their fragrance, where the riches 
 of beauty and luxuries of a realm were stored. 
 
 The walls were of marbled panels veined with 
 soft rose and carved in curious designs and hung 
 with soft silk of faintest gold studded with gems 
 of crystal and jasper. The marbled floor was 
 
80 Stones of India 
 
 strewn with rugs and mattings that rivalled in 
 softness, color and texture the blossoms that 
 nodded and swayed in the courtyard beyond. The 
 divans that lined the queen's chamber held in their 
 lap a great profusion of cushions of downy softness 
 embroidered in gold and silver and rose. On a 
 . raised dias, shrouded and canopied in silk, stood 
 an ivory bed of wondrous and rarest workman- 
 ship. 
 
 No sound entered these chambers save the sweet 
 voice of the queen and the chatter and prattle of 
 her maids, or the sound of the singing fountains 
 close by, or the wild outburst of the songsters 
 sweet that lived to love and loved to live, or per- 
 chance the young King's merry laugh as he 
 greeted his lady. 
 
 "No, no," pouted the queen, with the smile of 
 Nature's most innocent coquetry wreathing her 
 face, "I will not speak to you or give you a part- 
 ing kiss till you promise to give me what I ask. ' ' 
 
 They stood with a broad sofa of gold and velvet 
 between them and thrice had the Rajah gone 
 round the couch to catch his queen for a last kiss 
 before going out to the audience chamber, and 
 thrice had she, Luchmee Ranee, eluded his grasp 
 by running round the sofa and refused the kiss 
 until he would promise to give her what she asked. 
 
 "But what is it, my t3n:ant?" asked the Rajah, 
 admiring the color which suffused her cheeks, 
 "What is it that you would have me promise?" 
 
Matching the Pearl 81 
 
 Luchmee Ranee pursed up her lips in still more 
 tempting show as she replied, "But will you not 
 promise first to give it to me before I make the 
 request?" ^ 
 
 "That is a cruel proposal, though not so cruel 
 as this refusal of a kiss," answered Amax Singh 
 with a laugh, "But, my little one," he continued 
 with some seriousness, "I am a Rajpoot and King. 
 My word is my honor, my honor my life. If I give 
 my word, my life and honor are staked on it and 
 both I lose if I fail to keep that word. Now, tell 
 me what it is you ask, my Piari (darling), and I 
 promise you that if it be in my power, I will make 
 good your request even though it costs me half of 
 my Kingdom." 
 
 "My heart's thanks for this," said Luchmee 
 Ranee, as she bounded toward him and resting 
 her head upon his shoulders, she lifted aloft, hold- 
 ing it between her thumb and forefinger, a pearl- 
 large, white, lustrous, rare, 
 
 ' ' Now pair me this pearl, ' ' she said, ' ' that I may 
 have the finest nose-ring that is ever worn by 
 woman. My brother gave it me when I left his 
 house this time and asked me to give it to you to 
 pair." 
 
 "Is this all you ask, little wife?" the King 
 laughed, "I was afraid it was something very, very 
 precious or difficult to obtain. Your pearl shall 
 be paired. Within the hour my keeper of jewels 
 
82 Stories of India 
 
 shall match that moti for your nose-ring. And 
 now the kiss." 
 
 He took her to his heart and kissed her flushed 
 cheek and laughing mouth. Then he left her and 
 soon with his suite entered the audience chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Six months after the love-scene in the first chap- 
 ter, Maharaja Amar Singh sat in the private 
 garden of his young Ranee in solitary splendor. 
 The wondrous growth and beauty of the tropical 
 flowers he saw not, nor heard he the notes of glad- 
 ness that burst from the throats of the little 
 feathered creatures that lived in the trees and 
 shrubs which surrounded him. 
 
 The peacocks strutted past him and then spread 
 their gorgeous tails of brilliant eyes and walked 
 by again in silent majesty. These the young king 
 saw not, neither the tame parrots and doves who 
 circled round him and sat on his shoulders as they 
 were wont to do in other days when with his little 
 queen he came to feed them and play with them 
 and her like the child at heart that he was. 
 
 Now he saw them not, but brooded in heavy 
 silence on the heavy insult that the House of 
 Radhpore, the house of his dearly loved queen, had 
 thrown upon his House, the ancient House of 
 Kishenpore. 
 
Matching the Pearl 83 
 
 Thus he sat long, then took out from the pocket 
 in the folds of his richly emhroidered robe a pearl 
 of wondrous lustre and size and looked at it long 
 and earnestly and with a sigh thnist it back in 
 the folds of his garment. 
 
 Within the hour the pearl had been brought 
 back to him from its journey all over the broad 
 land of India, and the messenger had said: "Un- 
 matched I bring it back, Maharajah, though I 
 sought far and wide to pair it. Many there are 
 that seem of its softness of lustre smd sameness of 
 size. But when I hold them close to this, my Lord, 
 I find their shine does not match its fire, nor in 
 size do they equal this. So I have brought it back 
 to your Majesty once more to tell you, King, 
 that there is not a pearl to pair it in all the land. ' ' 
 
 Six months ago when the treasurer of his jewel 
 rooms had said, "You cannot pair it, King!" he 
 had laughed a merry unbelieving laugh. "What ! 
 The House of Kishenpore unable to find a pearl to 
 pair a pearl from the House of Radhpore!" 
 
 He would see. His Httle queen should have a 
 pearl to match the one given her from her broth- 
 er's house even though he searched the world to 
 find it. Never had the Kishenpore House been 
 unable to pair the pearl of the Badhpore House, 
 and these two great royal houses of India had 
 intermarried for centuries and each Badhpore 
 bride had brought from her father or brother to 
 
84 Stories of India 
 
 her husband, the Kishenpore Chief, a pearl to pair 
 for a nose-ring. 
 
 As he mused thus, the little queen with a train 
 of brown-browed maidens emerged from the gate 
 of the courtyard. Seeing her lord in silence and 
 gloom she ran to his side quick as the birds that 
 fluttered to meet her, ajid threw her sweet slender- 
 ness full in his arms. 
 
 " my lord ! ' ' said she, "I waited long for your 
 coming this day. Why wait you here when I aiwait 
 you there? Again the cloud on your brow I find. 
 Tell me, my husband, what saddens your heart? 
 What has taken the joy from your eye, the laugh 
 from your lips and perchance the love for me from 
 your heart? Has my happiness been too sweet 
 that now a grayness seems to envelope it in a 
 shroud? Tell me, has your quest of the pearl 
 proved fruitless again? Oh seek not any more to 
 pair the pearl, I beseech you. Would I had never 
 given it to you. I care not for the jewel, my lord, 
 much has it made me weep already. Oh, do give 
 up the matching of it and take me again in joy to 
 your heart as of old." 
 
 The young monarch was extremely touched by 
 his lovely consort's sighing caresses and plaintive 
 pleading. He kissed her with all the tenderness 
 which her touching accent aroused in him. 
 
 "Hush, my moon," replied he in a husky whis- 
 per as he strained her to his breast, "hush my 
 
Matching the Pearl 85 
 
 fairest ! I fear I have not loved you enough, you 
 whose lustre is softer by far than all the pearls 
 that the sea has yielded to man. The joy of my 
 love you are, the luck of my house, the loveliest 
 ray of light that ever beamed on the heart of man. 
 Come close to my heart, my darling Luchmee! 
 Stay here and heed not my sighs nor the trouble 
 that clothes my day." 
 
 "But no, my lord, I can no longer bear it," 
 burst out the Ranee in tears, "Accursed be the 
 pearl which has made you so sad and brought you 
 such trouble. Accursed be this servant of yours 
 who gave it thee to pair. Give it me back, I will 
 throw it away or burn it into ashes. I will— ' ' 
 
 "Nay, nay, that is too bad. It breaks my heart 
 when you accuse yoxirself thus, dearest. It is no 
 fault of yours. You understand not, my precious, 
 that it is not the failure to secure you a pearl for 
 your nose-ring that makes me sad, but the humilia- 
 tion which it involves in another way. Ever have 
 the Houses of Kishenpore and Radhpore main- 
 tained their honor by these pairing of pearls. No 
 sweet daughter of your father's house, my lotus- 
 eyed, has ever entered the house of my father as 
 bride but she brought a pearl for her husband to 
 pair, and never yet in the history of our house 
 has that pearl been lacking till now when you, the 
 brightest jewel of the diadem of maidens that 
 crowned your father's house, have come to tread 
 
86 Stories of India 
 
 and make glad the home of my fathers. Until I 
 pair your pearl, my flower, the House of Kishen- 
 pore, where you reign mistress and queen and, 
 which stands challenged thus, shall be shrouded in! 
 dishonor. This, sweet one, is my sadness." 
 " Oh ! " sighed Ranee Luchmee as she nestled close 
 to his side and hid her face in the folds of the 
 royal robe, "Would I had never seen the pearl or 
 never given it to you to pair since it robs me of the 
 glad smile and happy love that was wont to greet 
 me at each turn. But list, my dear lord, this day, 
 because of heaviness of heart, my maids and I 
 went in the early morn, even before the sun had 
 opened its eye on the beauteous world, to a hermit, 
 the holy one who lives close to the border of the 
 jungle. To him we went and prayed that the joy 
 would come back to your countenance again and 
 the merry twinkle of love to jovii eye, even though! 
 the pearl be never paired. The holy man did blessl 
 us all and looking at me with loving tenderness, 
 said, with his holy hand laid on my head, 'Grieve 
 not, my sweeT daughter. Your King, littlel 
 queen, shall match your pearl. One who is dark 
 and of lowly birth shall give him the pearl to pair. ' 
 So I have come to you in hopefulness to tell youl 
 this. I piray you, light of my life, smile and bel 
 glad again, oh, do." 
 
 Raja Amar Singh held her still closer to his 
 heart and kissed the rosy sweet lips and spreading 
 
Matching the Pearl 87 
 
 fingers. "Thanks, little wife," he said in a soft, 
 melting undertone which was almost a sigh, "But 
 much I fear me that your hermit mistakes, for 
 over all the land we have searched for a peaxl to 
 match your own. Yet, get you to your chambersy 
 my loveliest, and there I will greet you again when 
 I have wreathed my face with smiles for your 
 sweet sake." 
 
 And the little queen ran back to her maidens, 
 forgetting for once to call to the birds that flut- 
 tered about her or to talk to the proud peacocks 
 that strutted in majesty and poised, with gorgeous 
 tails spread for her to view and admire. Nor 
 Sitopped she to caress the shy-eyed fawn that 
 plucked at her gown and rubbed the small pahn 
 of her hand with long, moist, quivering nose in 
 appeal for the dainty rose-leaves which each day 
 at this hour the queen was wont to feed it with. 
 But straight to her innermost chamber sha flew 
 and prayed that the pearl might soon be paired 
 even as the good hermit had said— not prayed that 
 the nose-ring might be hers to wear— oh, no. She 
 cared not for that even, though it rivalled in 
 beauty and size the rarest of all gems that adorned 
 the flesh of fair women. But she only prayed for 
 its pairing that ere the sun was set she might 
 behold again, in the eyes of her lord, the glad 
 sweet smile that had ever been there and the 
 joyous lov€ that had crowned her life. 
 
88 Stories of India 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Thus prayed Ranee Luchmee, sure in the faith 
 that the pearl would be matched, for early thati 
 morning, even before the darkness of night had! 
 made way for the gray of dawn, Kamla, the eldest 
 and most loved of her maids, had come to the side 
 of her couch and roused her from her sleep. Iti 
 was a light sleep into which she had fallen after 
 hours of weeping wakefulness because of the sad-' 
 ness of her lord who had changed from a light- 
 hearted boyish lover into a man of sorrow since 
 the challenge hung on his House. 
 
 ' ' Come, sweet queen, rise now from your bed 
 and we shall go to the hermit who sits in his cot 
 at the skirts of the forest. A holy man is he and 
 reads the hearts of all who come near him and wise 
 is he beyond belief, and power has he over the 
 minds of others for good. If you go to him and 
 tell him of the sadness of your lord, who knows 
 but he may help you and him by his power and 
 goodness." 
 
 "But, Kamla," cried the little queen, whose eyes 
 now shone like stars with excitement, "How can 
 it be done? It is impossible for me to leave the 
 palace. Never have I stepped on the breast of 
 Mother Earth save in the gardens of my father 
 and my husband. You ask me to go to the skirts 
 of the woods ; gladly would I go to the holy one, 
 but how can it be brought about, Kamla; what 
 
Matching the Pearl 89 
 
 will my lord say when I tell him of it or if he 
 knows of it?" 
 
 "Leave that to me, my Ranee dear. No husband, 
 king or subject, can ever object to his wife visiting 
 the holy saints who sanctify even Mother Earth 
 by their feet's touch," said the maid. "What the 
 heart desires overmuch, that it will find. So come, 
 put on these garments of mine for a disguise so 
 that we can walk to the holy one in humbleness, 
 and I am sure he will bring light to your eye 
 which has been quenched since the heaviness has 
 weighed upon your lord's heart" 
 
 Ranee Luchmee rose and soon dressed in the 
 modest robe of her dear maid. A while after the 
 keepers of the harem gates saw the bevy of sedate 
 dark-robed maidens, with veils drawn low in front, 
 pass through the gardens and courtyards and outer 
 gates as they daily did at this time of the morning 
 to have their ablutions in the sacred river and say 
 their prayers and make their devotionals at its 
 bank. Little did they suspect that their Queen 
 with beating heart and trembling limbs walked 
 in their midst. Close clasped she the arms of 
 Kamla, for like a bird that is for the first time 
 out of its nest, the little queen gazed at the break- 
 ing mom. 
 
 Never out of the pala.ce-life the Ranee had 
 drawn breath; for the first time in her short life 
 had she seen the fields of the people and felt the 
 dust of the road beneath her small feet. Li wonder 
 
90 Stories of India 
 
 she looked at the cows that grazed close by, that 
 lifted their great eyes with slow gaze to low at 
 their passing. The calves skipped and kicked 
 their hind legs as they neared them and the 
 whistling cowherds with long strides passed them 
 to make ablutions in the sacred stream. A few 
 men and women passed their way toward the place 
 where the holy man sat to receive from him bless- 
 ings ere the labor of the day pressed upon them. 
 
 Many things she saw that were new and strange 
 to the pet of the palace. Many things that were 
 full of vague wonder sunk deep in her heart, that 
 in the days of her riper womanhood would burst 
 forth into thoughtful actions for those who walked 
 in lowly paths. 
 
 At last they reached the cot wherein the hermit 
 sat cross-legged. With eyes closed and a smile on 
 his face as radiant as the breaking dawn that now 
 shone through the thick of the forest, he gave 
 counsel and blessings to those of lowly walk and 
 those of high degree who came to ask for it. Many 
 there were who waited but to hear a word from 
 his lips as they told of the sorrows and burdens 
 that oppressed their heart and to each and one he 
 gave the word that brought hope to their eyes and 
 spring to their steps. 
 
 All this the queen saw as she stood with her 
 maidens a little apart, and she marvelled, as she 
 heard the complaints, that such sorrow should 
 dwell in this beautiful world. 
 
Matching the Pearl 91 
 
 Now swift to the feet of the holy man a youngf 
 wife and mother came, with face drawn and hag- 
 gard and eyes hollow and hungry. Bowing low 
 many times to the dust, she pleaded, amid sobs and 
 tears, "0 holy one, for hope I come to you. Close 
 unto death my husband lies. What will become of 
 me and my babe if he is taken from our midst? 
 Close to the heart of love you are, oh give me your 
 blessing and tell me how toi bring him to life once 
 more. Poor are we and have not the wherewithal 
 to purchase the food that will nourish and keep 
 life in his body." 
 
 Sick and faint the little queen grew and with 
 dilated eyes grasped the arm of Kamla. "Oh!" 
 she whispered, "take this to her, this gold and not© 
 where she lives, that we may fulfill her needs." 
 
 Close on the heels of the little wife who kissed 
 the hand of her who gave her the gold, came an 
 aged widow, feeble and bent, who prayed that her 
 cow be not taken from her, though she had not the 
 food to feed it or her own weak self. And now a 
 husband came and knelt at the feet of the hermit 
 and in broken voice begged that the life of his 
 oldest son be spared to him. Then a sturdy rustic 
 pleaded that he might be made fit to take to his 
 bosom the new bride that soon would come to his 
 home. 
 
 All this the little queen heard with beating heart 
 and tearful eye and her young heart turned with 
 yearning pity to those who suffered pain. Beared 
 
92 Stories of India 
 
 in the arms of luxvuy, joy and love she had never 
 known that beyond the walls of her dwelling there 
 was a world unlike her own. The word poverty 
 and its meaning' was unknown in her vocabulary 
 and no shadow of trouble had she ever seen until 
 the smile had left her lord. 
 
 Yet what she saw here was grim poverty, utter 
 hopelessness and darkest despair even in hearts as 
 young as hers, as well as in those that had passed 
 the years when hope springs into life anew. In 
 that moment a vow was registered within her 
 that relief should come from her hand to all who 
 needed it. 
 
 "0 Ranee," said Kamla, "go, make your prayer 
 to him for all are gone now. ' ' And Luchmee left 
 her maids and with hands folded and eyes cast 
 down in sweet devotion she knelt at the feet of the 
 holy one and bowed, touching the ground thrice 
 with her forehead, and faltered in musical accents : 
 
 ' ' holy one ! The boon I came to crave of thee 
 has fled from my heart and in it a sorrow has come 
 that is not mine own. I came to beg of thee the 
 favor that by thy good and holy power the pearl of 
 my father's House be matched by my lord. But 
 now my heart has been saddened by what I have 
 seen and heard at thy feet and now I pray to thee 
 but to chase from the brow of my lord the gloom 
 that lies there. And holy one!" she cried with 
 tears in her eyes, ' 'sad have I been these days that 
 my lord is sad, but never knew I the pain such as 
 
Matching the Pearl 98 
 
 I see aches in heart of man. Oh!" she sobbed, 
 "would I knew how to succor them and make them 
 joyous." 
 
 The holy man laid his hand on her head in bless- 
 ing: "Little daughter! Even before the now 
 rising sun sinks into rest you shall be glad again, 
 for your pearl shall be paired by one who is dark 
 and of lowly birth. And list, little Ranee ! Because 
 of your coming to me this morning, because the 
 tears have sprung to your eyes for suffering of 
 others, the hearts of those who rule this broad land 
 shall be turned into kindness and all the poor of 
 the Kingdom shall partake of good for your dwell- 
 ing therein. Blessed are you for your tender heart, 
 and all people shall call you so for the hand of 
 charity you shaJl extend to all who need your aid. ' ' 
 
 Bewildered, Ranee Luchmee bowed to the holy 
 man again in deep homage, rose to her feet and 
 joined her maids who again silently moved down 
 the road toward the palace. A great sweet glad- 
 ness rose in her breast, for that which she knew 
 not before and now she knew. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Scarce had Ranee Luchmee gone than a shadow 
 fell athwart the path in the garden where the 
 young Maharaja was seated. Looking up to see 
 who the intruder might be, he beheld at the side of 
 
94 Stories of India 
 
 the marbled bench one of the men who were known 
 in that land as Minas. 
 
 Dark was his face, and a great wad of matted 
 locks lay thick on his brow. His huge body was 
 uncovered save for a loin-cloth that swathed his 
 thighs. His eyes were bold and his features, 
 though regular, were strong and rough. His mus- 
 cles stood forth like the knots of the gnarled sal 
 trees that dotted the jungle which is generally the 
 home of his race. 
 
 One of the early and hardy people was he who 
 lived in the hills of that land. Plunderers, high- 
 waymen and robbers the Minas are by practice, 
 and woe to the man who passes through their 
 regions with gold in his bag or pack on his back 
 by night or comes close to their huts by light of 
 day. Innocent of letters or education, they are 
 rough and uncouth in word and manner, ungodly 
 in spirit and full of riotous living. 
 
 And yet place a Mina in a position of trust and 
 responsibility and his life will he give ere he 
 breaks that trust. The word "honor" the Minas 
 know not, yet to brea^ a promise or leave unful- 
 filled a duty of trust among these men of primitive 
 living is all unknown in their history. 
 
 The King looked at the Mina and saw in him one 
 who, as a child, had told him the easiest way to 
 comer a wild boar and who had pointed to him 
 that place in the jungle where the wild things 
 herded. Many a time, when thirsty and weary in 
 
Matching the Pearl 95 
 
 following a chase, he had wanted a drink from the 
 spring of the rock, this fellow had shown him just 
 where this cool water was to be found. Oft as a 
 youth he had heard wild stories of adventures 
 from this self-same man who now stood looking 
 down at him with a rough kindness in his bold 
 black eyes. 
 
 He bowed not to the king, for formalities the 
 Mina knows not. A child of Nature, he is simple, 
 plain, straightforward as an innocent child in 
 speech or manner. Greed he had not, when filling 
 an office of trust, and asking favors he dreams not 
 about, and therefore he has no need of the low 
 salaam which his civilized superior and the court- 
 ier made to rank or power. He broke forth in 
 brusque tone : 
 
 " Amar Singh ! I have just heard at the market 
 place that your House stands challenged because 
 you find no pearl to pair with that which your* 
 Ranee has brought from the house of Radhpore. 
 Is that true?" 
 
 "Trouble me not," said the King wearily, "and 
 bring not the gossip of the market place here, but 
 best be it that your idle tongues dwell not on the 
 honor of the House of Kishenpore or Radhpore." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Mina, so loud that 
 the Rajah was shocked and looked up at him to 
 rebuke him for want of manners. But as their eyes 
 met, he dared not speak roughly to the man who, 
 clothed in scant rags and wild in looks and man- 
 
96 Stories of India 
 
 ner, had the majesty of a freer soul than even a 
 king' in the light of those eyes. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed again, "do you 
 think it is a mind of curiosity that bids me speak 
 to you, child? Did they lie or are you trying to 
 conceal your trouble from me? They said there 
 that you sent through all the land and found no 
 pearl to pair the queen's. What a fool are you, 
 Umra, not to ask me first about it ! I can pair it or 
 any you can produce within the hour by a gem of 
 your own house. Did you not know that I am a 
 keyholder of your secret vaults?" 
 
 The Rajah started and lifted his head again and 
 gazed into the face of the Mina. Like a bird on 
 the wing, the recollection came to his mind of the 
 many stories he had heard in childhood, youth and 
 even in manhood of the underground vaults and 
 rooms full of untold treasures of gems that be- 
 longed to the kingdom of Kishenpore. But none 
 knew where they were or were to be found or even 
 who held the keys thereof. As often as he had 
 heard he had put the story aside as a fable and a 
 myth. 
 
 And now before him stood this rough man, 
 worse looking than the poorest beggar, this Mina 
 who possessed but a miserable hut, ate the coarsest 
 of food, and covered his loins with a rag, who 
 boasted to him with earnest mien and convincing 
 tone that within the hour he would pair the queen's 
 
Matching the Pearl 97 
 
 matchless pearl from the jewels of his own Royal 
 House. 
 
 For a moment he was too staggered to believe it. 
 Then he exclaimed, "Are you mad or dreaming, 
 fellow, or are you playing the fool with my sad- 
 ness, sirrah? It is true our House stands chal- 
 lenged for I find no mate to the pearl of my 
 queen." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" the Mina laughed again, "Mad or 
 fool or dreaming, bring your pearl and come with 
 me, and within the hour, as I said, your sadness 
 shall vanish. I will outmatch your queen's pearl 
 in fairness or largeness or lustre. I will outmatch 
 any gem in the land. ' ' 
 
 "One, only one will do" eagerly answered the 
 King as he sprang to his feet and looked once more 
 into the honest eyes of the other. "My good man, 
 pair my pearl and naught you ask shall be refused 
 you, even if it be my life, for life is not worth- 
 living with this dishonor on my House." 
 
 "Keep your rewards to yourself, for I want 
 nothing, ' ' said the Mina with almost a holy smile 
 of pride lighting up his rugged face. "It is with 
 a dry piece of coarse bread and self-imposed pov- 
 erty that our honesty and fidelity are seasoned. 
 The key of some of the underground vaults of 
 your House has been held by my family, handed 
 by sire to son from generation to generation even 
 as the throne and name of your House has gone 
 from father to son. Even the Kings know not, 
 
98 Stories of India 
 
 yea, know not, who hold the keys and where are 
 the secret treasure chamber^. We do not receive 
 any pay from your general treasury. There is a 
 secret treasury of your House from which our 
 small salaries, 5 to 6 rupees a month, are dis- 
 bursed by the head custodian of this secret wealth, 
 who is our chief, elected to this position by our 
 common consent. But those few rupees are enough 
 to keep me and my wife and children in rags, 
 bread and salt— our only need and luxury. ' ' 
 
 The King looked at the Mina with awed wonder 
 at which the latter said: "What are you looking 
 at me like that for, Umra? Come, get your horse 
 and take the pearl and let us be off to ipair it. ' ' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Soon the young king, unguarded and unarmed, 
 at the side of the wild-looking Mina^ was plunging 
 through the jungles on the outskirts of which they 
 reached the hills. All this way the Mina was 
 running on foot with the Maharaja's horse, but 
 here Amar Singh slackened the pace of the fiery 
 animal into a walk and said, addressing his com- 
 panion : 
 
 "How long hold you the keys of our vaults, 
 and are you the oldest son of your father? And 
 the gems of the vaults, when were they seen by 
 my ancestors last?" 
 
Matching the Pearl 99 
 
 The Mina pushed his locks from his brow as he 
 replied, "Ever since I was a boy I have held the 
 key for the only son of my father I am. But had 
 my father's eldest brother been allowed to live, I 
 to-day would be stopping travelers in some jungle- 
 paths away from your kingdom and relieving 
 them of their purses. Anyway, I would not have 
 been there inside that hut of mine to be near with 
 the key in time of peril. The jungle hero is the 
 life of a man like me, not the tame living of a man 
 of trust as I am now. ' ' 
 
 "What mean you," asked the king again with 
 an interested look at the wild man, "by saying 
 that had your father's eldest brother been allowed 
 to live? How died he?" 
 
 "Ah, that is a thrilling and sad story, Umra, 
 would you like to hear it? You do? Well, you see 
 this key that I hold was held by my grandfather 
 who got it from his father. He lived in the hut 
 where I now live with his wife, my grandmother, 
 and their three sons. One day the King, your 
 grandfather, passing by the hut, espied at its door 
 a tree heavy with sweet lemon fruit. Being athirst 
 he asked my grandfather for a fruit thereof. 
 Quick his eldest son, a boy of twelve years, sprang 
 forward to pluck the fruit and handed it to the 
 King. Refreshed by it your grandfather called to 
 my grandfather, saying, 'Here, twenty-two fruits 
 still are on this tree. They are luscious and good 
 beyond mine own fruits in my private gardens. 
 
100 Stories of India 
 
 Let none of them be plucked but for me.' Thus 
 commanded he and rewarding my gprandfather 
 and his sons right royally the king and his train 
 rode away. Each day the king's man came for 
 one fruit and each day my grandfather plucked 
 and handed one and watched the tree and counted 
 the fruits that none might steal -them. Alas, the 
 cursed lemons, the cause of such a disaster!" 
 
 "What disaster?" enquired the King, as he saw 
 the tall black man's eyes became almost moist as 
 he stopped speaking, a little overpowered by some 
 sad feeling. 
 
 "Well, I will tell you, since you wish to hear. 
 One day my grandfather went to the market and 
 on his return counted the king's fruits as was his 
 wont. He had daily cautioned his wife and sons 
 to be wary that none might partake of the fruits. 
 Every time he counted them they were all there. 
 But this time he found one fruit gone. He asked 
 his wife, she knew not who had plucked it. 
 His two younger sons looked in his face and shook 
 their heads for they had not eaten any or seen the 
 culprit. Then my grandfather's face grew stern 
 and hard and he called his eldest son to him, he 
 the first bom and most beloved. ' Child ! ' he said, 
 'have you stolen the King's fruit?' The boy 
 dropped his head and looked aslant at the father's 
 enraged face, and then put out his hands in sup- 
 plication for mercy. But the father saw it not. 
 He only saw the stains of the fruit's juice on the 
 
Matching the Pearl 101 
 
 hands and caught its sweet-sour fragrance from 
 the breath of his boy. Instantly his eyes grew 
 big and round and red with ra^e, and grabbing his 
 sword from its scabbard, he cut the head of his 
 first-born quick and clean from its trunk." 
 
 "What ! Cut off the head of his boy for eating 
 a lemon? What a madman he was, your grand- 
 father!" exclaimed the young Maharajah in ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "Ay, ay, so also said your grandfather," 
 promptly answered the Mina. "Then taking his 
 child's head by the locks my grandfather iiished 
 six miles down hill to the King who sat in state in 
 his audience-chamber with princes and ministers 
 and courtiers about him. 'Horrible, cruel, brutal!' 
 the king gasped, as he shuddered, 'the man is 
 mad ! Kill a child for stealing a fruit ! Why, man, 
 are you mad?' as my grandfather held the head of 
 his first-bom on high and shouted in frantic pain, 
 'Kill me, if you will. I have done it ! I have done 
 it! I have killed my first-bom!' 'Madman!' 
 cried the king again, 'why have you done it? 
 Dear to your heart was this boy and comely to 
 look upon.' 'I did it, I did it!' the frenzied man 
 cried, 'I had to. He was my first-bom and dearest 
 of the three to my heart. But I hold the key of 
 the underground vaults of your secret treasure 
 and he my eldest should have held them next. 
 But how could he? How could he, a thief now at 
 twelve, and stole from his king? How could he 
 
102 Stories of India 
 
 live to receive the keys of the vaults from my 
 hand? How could I trust him, a thief, with the 
 keys of a trust that has never been broken by so 
 many generations?" 
 
 The Mina paused and then added with a sigh, 
 "And that is why I hold the keys, I who am the 
 only son of the second son of my grandfather. 
 But here we are. Now, dismount. Let me tie 
 your horse to that tree and your eyes with this 
 band." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "Bind my eyes? Dare you do that, you knave? 
 What do you mean by it?" shouted the young 
 Maharajah, his pride wounded by the proposal 
 of his ragged menial to put a band over his eyes. 
 
 The Mina laughed a hoarse yet jolly laugh. 
 
 "Then," he said, "you need not go with me. 
 You can go back with the pearl unpaired and your 
 house disgraced. I will not take you there to the 
 vaults without first blindfolding you, though you 
 be the king himself. It matters not who you are. ' ' 
 
 "But," demanded the King, "what is the 
 reason? Why would you blindfold me? Tell 
 me that." 
 
 "Because," replied the Mina in a gentle yet 
 firm tone, "because you must not know the di- 
 rection or the location of the vaults. None has 
 
Matching the Pearl 103 
 
 known it nor ever seen it since my time. I will 
 show you the vault to select your pearl because 
 your house is in disgrace, and I am in duty bound 
 to save its honor. It is a case of those emergencies 
 in which we have been told to yield something 
 of our treasure trust. But are you going to get 
 your eyes bound, or are you not?" 
 
 Amar Singh had no other alternative but to dis- 
 mount. He also saw the wisdom of the reason the 
 Mina gave in explanation. What jealous, faithful 
 guardians these were of wealth committed to their 
 charge on simple trust, he thought to himself. 
 What a rare example of the veriest soul of honor 
 and fidelity encased in almost a savage body 
 clothed in a ragged loin-cloth. That honesty 
 worthy of the highest saint could dwell in a pov- 
 erty-stricken low caste Mina, the young King 
 thought he could never imagine. 
 
 His heart was also heavy for the fate of the 
 young culprit of many years ago, of whom the 
 Mina was just telling hint. "Poor little lad!" he 
 thought, "because he stole and ate one of my 
 grandfather's fruits he lost his young life, and 
 that by the hand of his own parent. What rugged 
 justice and yet what a noble spirit ! ' ' 
 
 But here the cloth was about his eyes and the 
 Mina was leading him through what seemed a 
 tunnel. Then down flights of stairs, up inclines, 
 down more stairs where it was damp and the 
 
104 Stories of India 
 
 atmosphere was chill and moist. Now again he 
 was treading upon creeping things and flying 
 things flapped their wings over and around his 
 head and something brushed by his legs. 
 
 But ever he felt the hand of the Mina about 
 him or halting to strike fire fl:om a flint and light 
 an oil lamp which he knew by its smell. Now 
 through another labarynth of crooked paths and 
 winding tunnels. 
 
 Here they halted and the Mina took from his 
 belt a key and the King heard him open a heavy, 
 clanking door. Now through other chambers that 
 were full of the smell of everlasting dampness and 
 then a halt again, and here the band was snatched 
 from the King's eyes and he stood in the chill of 
 an underground vault. 
 
 The Mina opened the lock of an old rusty iron 
 chest and pulled and threw back the lid. 
 
 "Now look," said he to the Rajah. 
 
 "Look? Look at what? I can't see "anjrthing. 
 All is dark to me here, ' ' said the Bajah. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "Here you are at last, Umra!" cried the Mina 
 in a merry voice as he watched the face of the 
 King, "chest after chest and vault after vault of 
 gold and precious gems of dififerwit kinds and! 
 qualities rare this underground world does hold. 
 
Matching the Pearl 105 
 
 and all belong to the House of Kishenpore. Now. 
 take your pearl to pair." 
 
 At first all was indeed dark to the King. Then, 
 little by little he saw, by the faint rays of the 
 poor oil lamp— ay, piles of lustrous, glowing, 
 gleaming pearls! 
 
 With a cry of joy and amazement he looked 
 upon the contents of that chest. Thousands upon 
 thousands of pearls, large and small, lay heaped 
 up, catching and repelling the rays of the smok- 
 ing oil lamp, and filling the vault with their light. 
 
 Pearls of all sizes, kinds and lustre greeted his 
 eyes. Pearls that were milky white and dazzled 
 the eye by their sheen. Pearls of creamy softness 
 that held in their hearts the color of rose. Pearls 
 were there that flashed back the gold of a star 
 that was lost, or held in themselves the bluish 
 gleam ,that is struck from a flint. Pearls of gray 
 that seemed darkened by tiny clouds of smoke 
 and pearls of inky blackness all piled in heaps 
 before him. 
 
 Forward Amar Singh sprang and took one, far 
 larger than the size of the pearl he had come to 
 pair. Then delighted he stooped for a handful of 
 the white ones. 
 
 In an instant he was caught by the hand and a 
 short sword the Mina held close to him. 
 
 "Only one, my master," cried the Mina, "that 
 is all you asked for. Why did you lie, if you 
 wanted more? You said you wanted one and you 
 
106 Stories of India 
 
 must take one. Had you asked for more, you 
 might have taken them." 
 
 The young King was now really vexed and dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 "Are they not mine?" he asked in astonished 
 imperiousness. 
 
 "Yours to use," said the Mina, "only when 
 your House or your State is in peril or in need of 
 funds for its safety or for the sake of its honor. 
 Until then I hold the key, and not even you dare 
 take from this treasure-store more than the need 
 of the moment. Your House now needs this pearl 
 to save its honor. Take your pearl, whichever 
 one you wish, but only one it must be. For the 
 rest I hold the key." 
 
 The King took his pearl, one of wondrous per- 
 fection, whiteness and lustre, and gazed once 
 again on the scene which rarely meets the human 
 eye. He was now blindfolded again and led 
 through all the winding tunnels, chambers, up- 
 and-down steps and corridors back until the sweet 
 air of the earth's surface touched his brow and 
 hands again and the Mina removed the band from 
 his eyes. 
 
 Taking the King to his charger, the Mina said 
 cheerily: "Now back to your Ranee with your 
 pearl that will pair any jewel of the Houses of 
 all India." 
 
 Amar Singh embraced the Mina and assured 
 him he would never be able to repay this debt of 
 
Matching the Pearl 107 
 
 obligation to him for thus saving the honor of 
 his House. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" laughed the Mina, "that is a good 
 joke. How are you obliged to me? The treasures 
 are yours, so is the pearl. I am only their keeper. ' ' 
 
 "But I never knew of their existence and you 
 have given me the pearl which my money could 
 not buy in all India. I take it as your noble gift, 
 my more than noble Mina ! ' ' 
 
 Saying this he again embraced his wild menial 
 more cordially than ever he embraced a brother 
 and leaped across the saddle. Then with his old 
 glad joy in his eye, the young wild love in his 
 heart and a sense of honor untouched throbbing 
 in his soul, he forgot the youth who had died 
 because he had stolen the fruit a king had chosen, 
 forgot the gems in the underground vaults like 
 rays of moon-beams, forgot the Mina whom he left 
 now far behind, forgot all as he urged his horse 
 and rode straight to his palace. 
 
 He only thought of the pair of pearls in the 
 folds of his cloak, and the far fairer pearl, his 
 little queen, v/ho knelt in prayer that her dear 
 lord might find the pearl to pair, so that the light 
 of his love might wreath his face again and bring 
 him in joy to her arms very soon. 
 * * * * 
 
 Again in the innermost chamber, in the per- 
 fumed bower of love, the King clasped to his heart 
 his precious queen. 
 
108 Stories of India 
 
 "Your brother has given a pearl to pair which 
 paired I give to you a^ain. But had he bidden me 
 to pair this rarest pearl of womanhood, I would 
 have searched the earth in vain for its match, and 
 Kishenpore would surely have been disgraced 
 forever." 
 
THE OAK AND THE VINE 
 
 Once there grew a little tendril 
 From the heart of Mother Earth, 
 
 And she strove with all her power 
 To break from her prison berth. 
 
 So she lifted head and shoulder, 
 Thrust them free into the world, 
 
 And she caught the smiling sunbeam 
 As her tender leaves uncurled. 
 
 And the soft rain fell upon her, 
 Washed her fresh and eager face. 
 
 And the breeze's sweet caressing 
 Pilled her with a nameless grace. 
 
 So she strove through all the springtime, 
 Happy in her youthful strength, 
 
 And her leaves grew thick and darker, 
 And her roots grew firm at length. 
 
 So she leaned far in sunlight 
 From an oak tree standing near. 
 
 And she heeded not his warning 
 When he whispered, "Grow thou here, 
 
110 Stones of India 
 
 "Where my arms can spread above thee, 
 Shield thee from the sun's hot glow, 
 
 Save thee from the storm and torrent 
 That will lay thy beauty low. ' ' 
 
 "No," she laughed, "thou knotted oak 
 tree. 
 
 Far too rough and coarse art thou 
 For my frail and tender beauty 
 
 To entwine thy gnarled bough. 
 
 ' ' Thou art old and hard and wrinkled. 
 And thy sides are worn and gray. 
 
 Why shouldst thou dare to address me? 
 I alone must live my day. ' ' 
 
 So the Oak Tree turned in silence. 
 Drew away his rugged hand. 
 
 But he knew her fragile beauty 
 Was not made alone to stand. 
 
 He, the King of all that forest. 
 Knew each vine must have an oak. 
 
 And a deep and mighty pity 
 In his heart for her awoke. 
 
 Then he pined too for the clinging 
 Of her soft arms young and fair. 
 
 And her tender, close caressing 
 On his trunk all gray and bare. 
 
The Oak and the Vine 111 
 
 But the vine was proud and wilful, 
 And she laughed and turned away, 
 
 Flirted with the bees and blossoms, 
 Played with them through all the day. 
 
 And she sang with birds and breezes 
 As they kissed her spring-wide eye, 
 
 With the butterflies coquetted 
 As the spring days frolicked by. 
 
 Then one day the early summer 
 Burst upon the waiting earth, 
 
 And the tripping, lisping springtide 
 Suddenly had lost its mirth. 
 
 And that early chUd of summer 
 Grew apace with rapid stride, 
 
 Down she came from southern hillside 
 With her sunflag floating wide. 
 
 And her heat beat on the flowers 
 
 Till they fell low with a sigh. 
 And the birds sat in the quiet 
 
 Of the Oak Tree standing by. 
 
 And the bees' persistent buzzing 
 
 Dully fell upon her ear, 
 And the breezes too were absent. 
 
 Butterflies came not to cheer. 
 
112 Stories of India 
 
 And the high noon in the heavens 
 Beat its gold upon her head 
 
 Till the Vine in blasted beauty 
 Drooped upon the ground nigh dead. 
 
 Then she gazed upon the Oak Tree, 
 Standing there so strong and tall, 
 
 And she longed with bitter longing 
 At his sturdy feet to fall. 
 
 Just to feel his shadow o'er her, 
 Just to hear his rustling voice, 
 
 Just to grasp his rugged branches. 
 In his mighty strength rejoice. 
 
 Then, lo ! the breezes lifted. 
 Gathered strength as on they fled. 
 
 Till the winds of all the heavens 
 Shrieked about her quivering head. 
 
 All the forest bent and staggered 
 'Neath the fury of that gale. 
 
 And the thunder crashed and bellowed. 
 Lightning flashed o'er hill and dale. 
 
 And a cold blast from the hillside 
 Struck the vitals of the Vine, 
 
 And she cried, "0, Oak Tree, help me, 
 Death doth chill this heart of mine." 
 
The Oak and the Vine 118 
 
 Then, see, the little tendril 
 
 Suddenly is borne on high 
 By her friend the sturdy Oak Tree 
 
 Who had heard her plaintive cry. 
 
 He had braved the storm to reach her, 
 
 In her attitude forlorn. 
 Though his roots had cracked in bending, 
 
 He now soothed her body worn. 
 
 Oh, she clung with loving fervor 
 To his rugged, battered arms, 
 
 And her heart was full to breaking 
 As he stilled her vain alarms. 
 
 So upon the hillside yonder 
 Grows the Oak Tree strong and fine, 
 
 And about his rugged grasmess 
 Twines the beauty of the Vine. 
 
 And the wild things of the forest 
 Find within their shade a home, 
 
 And the Vine warns every tendril 
 Who would leave her oak to roam. 
 
 "For," she says, "in all the forest 
 Every Vine an Oak must twine, 
 
 And the Oak Tree strong and sturdy 
 Needs the twining of the Vine." 
 
THE MOON-MAIDEN 
 A Legend of Old Ceylon. 
 
 It was in the old days that are gone down into 
 the sea where the singing-fish sing lullabies to 
 them always in the seaweed groves, when the seas 
 were first churned and Lakshmi with her twin 
 gifts, Beauty and Sorrow, was bom; before the 
 Asuras, those proud old Titans, ever rose up in 
 their wrath and dared to war with the Gods ; be- 
 fore ever the last Buddha in his hare-days was 
 made hare^prince of the Moon. 
 
 It was in the very old, old days, and the Moon 
 was always full, and shone with quiet peaceful 
 rays upon the men that knew no sin; when 
 Chetiyah was king of Damba-diva and borne up 
 always in mid air by the four gods, before he told 
 the lie that drove them all away, so that he fell 
 to the outraged Earth that shrank back from his 
 pollution and opened a great fiery chasm, so that 
 he went down quick into A 'pa, the lowest hell. 
 
 And every night, when the winds held their 
 breath to hear the whispers of the gods as they 
 walked in the still Earth-Garden, the Moon- 
 Maiden came down through softest fieece of light- 
 est clouds, and bathed her white loveliness among 
 the lotuses in the Restful Lake. But the Bestful 
 Lake was lost long ago, when the Moon-Maiden 
 fell in love— mortal love, as I shall tell you now. 
 
The Moon-Maiden 115 
 
 Only we know that it lay somewhere in Lanka's 
 (Old Ceylon's) wooded depths, wrapped round in 
 mirrored stillness, always. 
 
 Every night she used to lie floating, whiter than 
 the lotuses that clustered round her, with dia- 
 mond-flecked leaves, tenderly, while the waters 
 kissed her eyes aud brows and cheeks, telling her 
 all their dreams of quiet thoughtfulness, perfect 
 peace ; and many a god cam© down to the shores 
 of the Restful Lake to woo her for her bright 
 beauty, night after night, singing his sweetest 
 songs through the reedy sedge. But always she 
 shrank back, cold and chaste, into the coyest veil 
 of lotus-cups, ajid would not hear. 
 
 And so the ages ran on, and the Moon-Maiden 
 was a maiden still, unloving, though all-loved. 
 
 But for many a night, unseen by her, there had 
 been one watching with reverent gaze, young 
 Prince Chulani, the brave hunter, whom all the 
 maids of Lanka sighed for, all in vain. For he 
 ever left song and feast, and wandered into the 
 still wood alone, longing only for the fair vision 
 in the waters of the Restful Lake. 
 
 And the weeks sped on, and the months sped 
 on, and still he could only watch from the tangles 
 of the mango groves, seeing always, but daring 
 never to be seen. Till one time a great longing 
 seized him, and he rose up swift and silent from 
 his ambush, and stepped down into the dim 
 waters, aud with strong arms clove his way 
 
116 Stories of India 
 
 stealthily to where the Moon-Maiden lay, all asleep 
 with the low whispering of the waters. And close 
 to her cheek he laid his own, and twined her long 
 hair round his brow, and breathed, fearful yet 
 brave, into her ear, ' ' Oh, Queen of aU my dreams, 
 awake!" 
 
 But over the frighteued waters went a shiver, 
 and the lotuses closed their cups for fear, and the 
 sedges hushed their lullabies and the Moon-Maiden 
 was gone, far away back to the black-blue sky 
 through the shielding clouds of her mother Night. 
 
 But he went away mourning many a weary day, 
 nor ever to the Restful Lake durst go again, but 
 always with heavy brow he brooded apart in the 
 halls of the palace, heedless of best of king or smile 
 of maid: and all the people looked sorrowing on 
 their changed hero, who wrought no longer feats 
 of arms, nor deed of chase, nor any noble thing. 
 
 Now the king's High Priest, Seneka, who knew 
 the songs and tongues of every bird, and read the 
 rede of cloud and star, saw all this sorrow that 
 had come upon Chulani, and how he forsook the 
 worship of the holy gods: and he called him to 
 him alone in his secret chamber, and made him 
 tell him all his grief. 
 
 And when the tale was told he was sore amazed, 
 and for three days took counsel with himself, and 
 with the Parrot-Pandit, wiser than all birds. 
 "Much hast thou dared, Chulani, for mortal 
 to love deathless maid; to her death never comes, 
 
The Moon-Maiden 117 
 
 for she is Amaxa-devi,* but thou, like all mankind, 
 must die. Yet I have found a way whereby thou 
 mayst win the love of the brig^ht Moon-Maiden, so 
 only thou hast skill and daring- for the deed that 
 must first be done." 
 
 Then Chulani spake short and joyful, "I dare 
 all, and she shall give me skill!" 
 
 "Then hearken to me. In the land of the Naga 
 King, beneath Samanella Kanda,='=* the butterfly 
 hill, whither twice a year the troops of butterflies 
 wing their way to bow down before the great 
 Naga, there lies a huge cave, deep and dim, where- 
 in the Nagas keep their magic treasures. And all 
 day long, and all night through, a seven-headed 
 Naga keeps the door, watching always with sleep- 
 less eyes lest any steal away their hoard. And in 
 the seventh head of this Naga is the Wishful 
 Jewel ; this, if you canst win, thou mayst gain all 
 that thy heart longs for— all save immortality 
 only; that one gift the Nagas cannot give. But 
 
 *"Amara-d6vi" means "The deathless lady." 
 **"Samanella Kanda"— /"Butterfly Mountain;" this 
 is Adam's Peak. A common phenomenon in Ceylon is the 
 pilgrimage of hosts of butterflies, mile after mile flying 
 towards the Peak. The Buddhists say they go to pay 
 homage to the Sri Pada or sacred footstep of Buddha, but 
 long before Buddhism, In the days when the Nagas, or 
 fabulous snakes, held the hill country of Ceylon, the but- 
 terflies went the same journeys, for the benefit of the 
 N&ga Bajah. 
 
118 Stories of India 
 
 think well ere thou resolve. For like should ever 
 mate with like, and what hath mortal to do with 
 love for the Immortals?" 
 
 But Ohulani was young, and heeded naught of 
 thought or care, nor prudent saws. Only his 
 breath came quick and his eye lightened as he 
 heard of the Wishful Jewel and the Naga monster, 
 and he laughed out for very joy of love and enter- 
 prise, "Aha! Now will I slay that seven-headed 
 Naga, and win that rare jewel of his, and the 
 Moon-Maiden, the white-browed Amara-devi, shall 
 be mine even yet!— all mine!" 
 
 And day after day, for two whole weeks, he 
 worked hard with the King's chief armourer, 
 forging arrow heads of bluest steel, and sturdy 
 shafts of toughest teak, and a great round shield 
 with many a mystic word inscribed. And in the 
 end he started forth on his long journey to the 
 Naga land through the waste of unknown jungles 
 ajid long sand-blown plains, while the people all 
 came down thronging to the city gates to see him 
 go, and many a maiden held her breath, peering 
 through her lifted veil, watching the gay young 
 hunter as he went, and thinking sorrowfully how 
 they would never see him again, but the serpent's 
 fiery breath would scorch his fair beauty into 
 hideous death. 
 
 But he strode stoutly on. Day after day 
 through slumbrous shade of heavy-hanging creep- 
 er-clustered trees, where the fierce sun's rays 
 
The Moon-Maiden 119 
 
 could scarcely pierce, and always dead silence of 
 utter loneliness brooded over gnarled windings of 
 twisted roots and giant trunks, so that scarce two 
 fathoms of this way might be seen; only the but- 
 terfly pilgrims floated lightly overhead, and he 
 knew well that their way was his, and their track 
 would never ert,. 
 
 And at night the thick darkness came down, 
 and the trees sprung into sudden life of msrriad 
 insects' hum, and far away he heard the boom of 
 elephant, and wandering jackal's cry, while every 
 branch and every creeper hung and swung in fit- 
 ful shapes around him, till they almost seemed to 
 teem with life, and whisper in low words that he 
 might not know, of how the way was perilous and 
 long, and the end of all uncertainty, or certain 
 death; and were there not damsels at home as fair 
 and rare as any dream-maiden in a haunted lake? 
 But he shut his ears bravely, and woidd not hear, 
 looking only up to the sky he scarce could see, 
 where she, his queen, smiled brightly from the 
 placid depths through silver canopy of cloud and 
 milky way. 
 
 And all his heart went up, "My, love, thou shalt 
 be mine ! ' ' and fear and loneliness fled away. 
 
 So many a day he journeyed, till the thick jun- 
 gle ended and he came to a great salt stretch of 
 sand and salt, blown over always by the hot east 
 wind that burned, and blazed, and scorched ; here 
 waa no Hfe nor track of living thing, nor any 
 
120 Stories of India 
 
 shade of scantiest tree, nor green of herb, nor 
 gleam of water, but all one dreary desolateness ; 
 and the red daze of heat hung over on tiie copper 
 sky. 
 
 And for two days, faint with thirst, he strug- 
 gled on, hoarding the scant water in his gourd 
 with jealous care. But on the third day it was 
 all finished, and the sun beat down on his bowed 
 head with pitiless power, and his eyes were dim 
 for utter weariness and glazing glare, while his 
 parched tongue clove close and dry to the roof 
 of his mouth; and in the end he sank down on the 
 hot sand, death-stricken. 
 
 But his time was not yet come; and in a while 
 he was haJf roused, hearing a pleasant rippling of 
 running waters, and sough of waving trees; and 
 over all a sweet low song, sung in his own tongue, 
 but in voice so sweet as never mortal sang. 
 
 And for a long time he lay, not daring to open 
 his eyes lest it should be some false mirage; but 
 still the song went on, and the burning heat and 
 pain were gone; and he said to himself: "Now 
 am I surely dead, and have changed into some 
 other sta^e in the long soul-wandering ; ' ' and long- 
 ing much to know into what he had transmigrated, 
 he sat up and gazed around. 
 
 But he was a man still, his very self it seemed: 
 but all around him instead of desert waste was 
 greenest verdure, and long carpets of such flowers 
 as never in his life had he seen before, and scented 
 
The Moon-Maiden 121 
 
 trees bent over him loaded with bright fruits and 
 blossom both at once, and through the vista of 
 their arching he beheld the fair glinting of a clear 
 rippling streamlet, purling happily \o itself of all 
 the bright sights it had seen, and all the good 
 deeds it had done to the thirsty earth. 
 
 And on the tree just overhiU were two figures— 
 Bird-Maidens they seemed, with fairest faces of 
 Lakshmi's daughters, and long floating hair that 
 wound round softest bosoms that swelled into ten- 
 derest song as he sat listening, and lithe throats 
 with fullest sweetness curving; only all the rest 
 of them was bird's plumage, soft and rare as bird 
 of Paimlise. 
 
 And when they saw how he was awake and 
 wondeiing, the twain flew gently down and sat 
 on either side of him, fluting still their silver mel- 
 ody, singing of rest after wandering and love, 
 and gazing upon him with long eyes, lid-shadowed, 
 till Chulani felt all life revive, and he stretched 
 out his hands to them, and said "Tell me, sweet 
 saviours of my life in the waste wilderness, who 
 are ye?" 
 
 And they, singing still, murmured, "We are the 
 Kanduro, the Bird-Maidens of the Passing Hour; 
 and we sing always of how the skies and woods 
 and life and love are bright and young, and we 
 take no thought of morrow or sorrow, but fly 
 always floating after the pleasures of the passing 
 hour. But who art thou, youth? and whither 
 
122 Stories of India 
 
 dost thou journey through the desert of Trackless 
 Land? We found thee djring and fainted, but 
 thou wast too goodly to die, so we bore thee upon 
 our wings and brought thee to the fair haven of 
 the Passing Hour." 
 
 And he answered, "I am Chulani, from the pal- 
 ace of king Wedeha, and I go to the land of the 
 Naga king to slay the great seven-headed Naga, 
 and win the Wishful Jewel." 
 
 Then they leaned over him, and smoothed his 
 ebon hair lovingly, "But what hast thou to do 
 with Naga or Wishful Jewel? Why shouldst 
 thou die? For thou wilt surely be slain by tiie 
 poison-breath of the Sleepless Monster. We have 
 heard full many a tale of many a one slain by 
 him." 
 
 But he laughed short, "Die or live, go I must; 
 for I love Amara-devi, the moon-maiden, and in 
 no other way can I win her, save only by the 
 Wishful Jewel." 
 
 "Amara-devi? oh, we have seen her often; cold 
 is she, and white, and proud, and heeds naught of 
 swain or love. Rather stay with us and dwell 
 ever in our pleasant land, and wed with us; no 
 scornful damsels are we, but always we love the 
 brightness of sweet youth and joy. And thou art 
 all too fair for such as she." 
 
 But he was steadfast, and would not stay. 
 
 Then the Bird-Maidens sang again, a sleepy 
 song of restfulness, bidding him at least rest while 
 
The Moon-Maiden 128 
 
 on his toilsome wa,y ere he went on through the 
 scorched desert of the Trackless Land, And be- 
 cause the way was long, and he sore wearied, he 
 consented to bide one day in their pleasant bower 
 beneath the green trees by the purling brook. And 
 they kissed his tired eyes, and sang again to him, 
 and fondled him to sleep, weaving a drowsy charm 
 of magic melody. 
 
 And never would he have waked again from 
 the slumber to which they had lulled him, but 
 that the Parrot-Pandit, who, sent by Seneka, had 
 always followed him unseen, now came, and perch- 
 ing in the foliage near screamed thrice with the 
 scream of the eagle-king. And the Bird-Maidens 
 flew off for fear, leaving him there on the moss- 
 grown bank asleep, ere yet the charm was ended. 
 
 Then the Parrot-Pandit flew down to Chulani, 
 and spake in human voice, "Awake, awake, Chu- 
 lani, rouse up quickly! Thou art in haunted 
 land, and the Kanduro will lull thee into endless 
 sleep, far from fame ajid friends, and enterprise 
 and home, and thou wilt slumber on, a laggard 
 nothingness, for all eternity. Awake, wake ! Arise 
 amd fly, while yet there is time." 
 
 But the charm had well nigh worked, and Chu- 
 lani was hard to rouse ; but at last he rose up sigh- 
 ing, and went on with lingering steps, and imme- 
 diately stream and grove and pleasant shade had 
 faded far away, and he was toiling painfully on 
 once more through the burning sand. And the 
 
124 Stories of India 
 
 Kanduro, changed now into foul vtiltures, came 
 flying after him, flapping with noisome wings 
 around his head, waiting till he should 'fall faint- 
 ing to feast on his carcass. 
 
 But the Parrot-Pandit still kept near him, and 
 gave him a seed, round and red like olinder ; and 
 straightway Chulani felt his strength revive as 
 the strength of ten men, and he shook his arrows 
 at the foul birds and spake wrathfully, "0 false 
 Bird-Maidens, now do I know your foul vileness ! 
 Fain would I slay ye, only that these shafts are for 
 the Naga monster only!" 
 
 But they screamed wrathfully, and flew oflf to 
 tell the Naga king how one was coming to slay 
 his guard and steal the Wishful Jewel away from 
 him. 
 
 And now for many days, with no break nor 
 chance of any kind, Chulani wandered on wearily 
 with the Parrot-Pandit always following: until 
 at last the blue hills rose up in the distance, and 
 hour by hour grew nearer, with white clouds 
 floating round their hazy peaks, and always a 
 shimmer of heat-mist rising up between them and 
 the hot sandy plain below. 
 
 And soon the trees, flrst parched and straggling, 
 but soon spreading into tall jungles, came again, 
 and call of bird and hum of insect told of life 
 once more. And Chulani breathed again, for that 
 the weary desert was ended, and he drew nigh to 
 
The Moon-Maiden 125 
 
 the Naga land. And he strode firmly on, longing 
 for high emprise. 
 
 But, as he hastened to scale the soaring crags, 
 the Parrot-Pandit stayed him, knowing things to 
 come. For he knew how the Kanduro had warned 
 the Naga king, and already, far off, he saw the 
 danger that would come. 
 
 Therefore he spake again, in human voice, "0, 
 Chulani, now will a swarm of serpents, small but 
 terrible, beset thee, crowding up from every crag 
 as thou dost climb ; and shaft and arrow will avail 
 thee naught against their countless hosts, but they 
 shall come hissing from afar, hasting in dread 
 array, with poisoned fangs of death and pain." 
 
 And Chulani was sad, and said, "If they be so 
 many wherewith shall I slay them? for I am 
 but one, and my quiver will fail." 
 
 But the sage Parrot answered, "It is not with 
 weapon that thou shouldst meet them. Thou must 
 bide here, fasting, three days, without fail or fear, 
 and I will fly hence to the land of Damba-diva, 
 where are the seven peaks of Meru, even to the 
 magic tree which the three daughters of Midnight 
 planted; and always with watch and ward they 
 guard it well. But to me will they give of its 
 leaves, and thou shalt anoint thyself with them, 
 and eat of its fruit, and the poison of the serpent- 
 hosts shall be harmless to thee, and every snake 
 that bites through the magic juice of those leaves 
 
126 Stories of India 
 
 shall himself die miserably, but thou shalt go on 
 thy way in safety." 
 
 So the Parrot-Pandit left him, and flew swiftly 
 on tO'Wards the narrow sea that separated Lanka 
 from Damba-dira, seeking the magic leaveS:. But 
 Ghulaui was left alone, pondering much on the 
 things which were happening. 
 And the days passed wearily in lonesome thought, 
 with always the same sky, and same arch of trees, 
 and same stillness brooding monotonously over 
 him. And the second day went, and the third, 
 and fourth and still the Parrot-Pandit came not; 
 till Chulani's heart throbbed restlessly, chafing at 
 delay. 
 
 And on the fifth day, as the evening rose slowly 
 up the dim east, with one pale star watching the 
 wan green day that died in the western sky, where 
 the peak of Smanella-kanda loomed gray and dark 
 against the fading light, while the trees waved 
 heavy arms over him wearily, he lay watching the 
 calm still moon rising in her peaceful beauty over 
 the lulled silence, and he fashioned to himself in 
 eager longing the rare loveliness of Amara-devi 
 shaping forth from the yellow disc in the opal 
 sky; and as he lay, waking-dreaming, sleep came 
 upon him, and he dreamed that down the long- 
 slanting moonbeams came the spirit form of the 
 bright Moon-Meaden, till she stood over him, 
 white and holy, and smiled upon him, her wor- 
 shipper. 
 
The Moon-Maiden 12T 
 
 And he lay a little happy while gazing upon 
 the glorious vision and then he murmured, "Ah 
 fairest Queen, why must I tarry so long ere I be- 
 hold indeed thine own most radiant self, and win 
 thee for mine own?" 
 
 But she, soft smiling, made answer, "Why 
 shouldest thou tairy? Why not press on and 
 dare the Naga-sentinel, and wresit the Wishful 
 Jewel? weary one of little courage, why is 
 thy heart so faint?" 
 
 And he awoke, and swore a great oath that 
 naught should stay him more, but in very sooth, 
 come what might, he would be up and doing with 
 the morning. 
 
 But he knew not tha.t it was not Amara-devi at 
 all, but the youngest Kandura who had come to 
 him in his vision. For she had been sent forth 
 by the Naga king to lure him on, and had taken 
 upon herself the form of Amara-devi, coming in 
 false beauty down the wan moon-path. 
 
 Therefore he rose up at early dawn sorely an- 
 gered at himself, chiding himself for a fool and a 
 woman for fearing the Paxrot-Pandit's tales— 
 whait were they, true or false? Was not she, his 
 Queen, awaiting him? And who was he that he 
 should stay? 
 
 And he strode off wrathfuUy, and began climb- 
 ing the rugged steeps^ where the bare rocks jutted 
 out black and sharp from tangled shroud of fern 
 
128 Stories of India 
 
 and thorn, steep after steep rising sheer and 
 beetling over him. 
 
 And the noonday sim struck hard and hot, and 
 he paused a while for utter weariness, and leaned 
 up against a great rock that cast its grateful shade 
 over the burning slope. But in a moment from 
 among the pleasant grass there sprang a small 
 green snake, and bit him in the hand, and the 
 poison rushed burning through his veins, throb- 
 bing and shooting in painful surgings. 
 
 And even when he bound up the wound, with 
 teeth hard-set for pain and fear of death, there 
 came a troop of snakes, following after that other, 
 and they all sprang at him in fierce savageness, 
 and the air was filled with their hissing. 
 
 But Chulani had leaped up on to a ledge of the 
 rock, and with his back firm set against it he 
 covered himself with his shield, and with an arrow 
 held club-wise he warded off the serpent swarm, 
 dealing blow after blow valiantly, and felling and 
 slaying many an one. But the rest still hissed 
 and writhed and reared their poisonous heads 
 against him and venom from the bite which had 
 taken him unawares swelled his arm till he scarce 
 could hold his arrow, and the poison mounted up 
 towards his heart and head till his brain began 
 to reel and mists rose up before his eyes, and he 
 felt that he must of a surety die. 
 
 And he thought bitterly of the Parrot-Pandit, 
 and cursed him for tarrying so long, and himself 
 
The Moon-Maiden 129 
 
 for not waiting till he should bring the magic 
 leaves, and his Fates for that they had cast his 
 lot in evil chance. 
 
 And now he heard the whirring swing of heavy 
 wings overhead and looking up with despairing 
 eyes he saw two huge vultures perching on a crag 
 above him, waiting for the end. And he knew 
 that they were the Kundaro, come to see him die; 
 and for very wrath thereat he roused up and smote 
 more savagely with his arrow-shaft at the ser- 
 pents, and his strength revived for a little while. 
 
 For a little while only. And the Kanduro 
 laughed out and spake in human voice, "Thrice 
 fool! why didst thou leave us when we came to 
 thee fair and rare, the Bird-Maidens of the Pass- 
 ing Hour? Were we not beauteous exceedingly, 
 far above mortal beauty, and what wast thou that 
 thou shouldst have none of us? But the Passing 
 Hour is passed, and its beauty hath departed, and 
 life is lost, and we shall see thee die in woeful 
 plight, we the Vultures of the Lost Past!" 
 
 But, with failing breath that came hard and 
 thick, he gasped, answering, "False Fiend- 
 Maidens are ye— a little beauty and a long sorrow 
 —but my Amarardevi is pure and bright, and for 
 her would I die a thousand deaths, and thrice as 
 hard and painful as this one." 
 
 And they laughed, "Aha! the cold Moon- 
 Maiden, who would die for her? But in veiy 
 
 10 
 
180 Stories of India 
 
 sooth thou thjrself wilt soon be cold enough in 
 death." 
 
 But he spake no other word to them, still smote 
 on wearily at the serpents, thinkiiig only of his 
 Queen, and he had lost her by not waiting for the 
 Parrot-Pandit, and wondering how it could be 
 that this dream had led him wrong. 
 
 And now the night had come, and the Moon 
 shone full upon him, and he looked up for one last 
 sight of his Maiden-Queen; and suddenly his eyes 
 were opened and his ears heard, and a still voice 
 down the moon-ways came to him, "Paint not; I 
 have seen all thy sorrow, and all thy folly, and I 
 know all thy love for me. Pight on and persevere! 
 But heed not again false visions of me, for the 
 vision that bade thee hasten on was none of mine, 
 but it was the youngest Kandura^ the handmaid 
 of the Naga king. But now call aloud thrice for 
 the Parrot-Pandit, and he shall bring thee help. 
 Only see that thou disobey him not again." 
 
 Then did Chulani in penitence call three times 
 on the Parrot; and straightway, swift speeding 
 through the air, he came with willing wings, bear- 
 ing a precious branch of the magic tree; and full 
 tenderly he laid the leaves on the serpent-wounds, 
 spreading them gently with anxipus care. 
 
 And immediately Chulani felt his strength re- 
 vive, and his life come back with full tide of 
 health; and he stood with downcast eyes before 
 
The Moon-Maiden 131 
 
 the Parrot-Pandit, and said : ' ' Truly, I was a fool, 
 and thrice a fool for my obstinate haste; because 
 thou wast long' gone my spirit rebelled against 
 thee, and the false dream came, and I believed 
 a lie rather than thy truth. But now have I seen 
 my fault, and do thou, this once, forgive." 
 
 But the Parrot-Pandit, answOTed: "Thou art 
 but human, and thou hast but erred'. But now 
 must thou fast yet again three days, eating naught 
 and drinking naught save only the juice of these 
 three leaves that I give thee, and they shall give 
 thee strength. For on the fourth day thou must 
 go against the Naga-sentinel, and do battle with 
 him alone ; but if ever thy need be sore call thrice 
 for me, and straightway I will be with thee; but 
 now I must tarry here, doing the best of Seneka." 
 
 And this time Chulani fasted patiently, heeding 
 no thought, nor dream, but biding penitent. And 
 on the fourth day he rose up long ere dawn, as 
 the moon sank down through the mists in the 
 west, and he breathed a prayer to the Moon- 
 Maiden to guard him well, and went forth, clench- 
 ing firmly quiver and shaft. 
 
 And at mid-day he came to a place where the 
 butterfly-pilgrims all flew circling upwards, and 
 a great smoke rose up to the sky, and all the trees 
 were scorched and gnarled; and underneath 
 yawned a great depth of cavern, whence the 
 smoke arose, and hideous sounds of roaring and 
 hissing came forth from the black darkness. 
 
132 Stories of India 
 
 And Chulani knew that he was now come to 
 the abode of the Nagarsentiuel, and his heart beat 
 high, and his breath came thick, as he peered cau- 
 tiously through the tree-trunks^ wondering what 
 it were best to do. 
 
 For he could see no sign of the monster, nor any 
 access; only a great cloud of smoke, and wall of 
 rock, and flames of fire shot forth through the 
 gloom from the cavern's mouth. 
 
 And all that day he waited if by any chance he 
 might see the great serpent come forth, for ho 
 feared greatly to go into the dimness blin&fold; 
 but there was no sight nor portent, only the muf- 
 fled sound of hidden horror. And at last as the 
 moon rose yet again, and the weird shadows 
 trooped fearfully round him, he went forth des- 
 perate, down into the black cave's mouth, to do 
 or die. And he called out in a brave voice, ' ' Come 
 forth, Naga monster, and yield to me the Wish- 
 ful Jewel!" 
 
 Then came a flash of lurid flame from the depths 
 beyond, and through clouds of tawny smoke on 
 a wrathful coil of hooded hideousness with seven 
 hissing heads and darting tongues, and glinting 
 glamour of savage eyes, till Chulani felt the blood 
 run cold back to his heart which stood still for a 
 moment and then thumped cruelly into his very 
 mouth. 
 
 But small space had he for thought or dread; 
 for the Serpent was upon him with the seven heads 
 
The Moon-Maiden 133 
 
 darting fearsoiuely round him, while he strove 
 to cover himself with his good shield, stepping 
 backward till his back pressed against the damp 
 walls of the cavern; and then he smote out his 
 arrows valiantly, through and through the mon- 
 ster's scaly hood, piercing all in vain. For the 
 beast reared always up again each head that 
 drooped, however sorely wounded, and ever came 
 on fresh to the charge, so that Chulani's arm grew 
 weary, and his heart heavy, and he knew not what 
 to do. 
 
 Therefore he called thrice for the Parrot-Pandit 
 in his sore distress, and in an instant there was a 
 swift cleaving of the air and the Parrot flew 
 straight at the monster's eyes, till soon each head 
 was reared helplessly, hissing vainly in blinded 
 rage, so that Chulani thrust securely at him, him- 
 self unseen. But still he could not slay his foe, 
 but each wound revived the anger and strength of 
 the grim Naga. United the Parrot-Pandit bade 
 Viim rub the arrowheads in the mound on the 
 cavern-sides, and smite again. And this time the 
 monster reared up once in death pangs and fell 
 down dead, there on the poison-stained rocks at 
 Chulani's feet. 
 
 And straightway from the middle head rolled 
 forth the Wishful Jewel, and Chulani seized it in 
 eager gladness, and gazed at its rare loveliness 
 sparkling in treble lustre of noonday suns, and 
 
134 Stories of India 
 
 he called out, "Now, Jewel mine, bring me to 
 Amara-devi, my bright Moon-Queen." 
 
 And by the Restful Lake, in the whispering 
 sedges, among the long lake-ripples, he stood 
 straightway; and the Moon-Maiden wrapped 
 round in white beauties lay sleeping once more 
 amid lotus-canopies of dreams and quietness; 
 while the whist waters wondered wistfully at the 
 vision, and sweet breezes murmured long love- 
 songs around her, and the guardian stars watched 
 over her. 
 
 And swift with ardent joy he swam to her side, 
 and laid his lips to hers as she slept, whispering, 
 "At last, my Queen! I have slain the Naga and 
 won the Wishful Jewel, and now my -wish is only 
 thee." 
 
 And with a long sigh she turned, and her quiet 
 eyes opened slowly and from their deep stillness 
 gazed down into his soul; and no more did she 
 fly from him, but in surrendered trustfulness she 
 confessed to him all her love, and her joy-thoughts 
 throbbed in phosphorous gleams along the quiet 
 waters. 
 
 But soon, too soon, the chill breath of far-off 
 dawn came sighing through the lake-side trees, 
 and the Moon-Maiden shivered and the lotus-cups 
 curled sorrowfully over their folded leaves, and 
 she kissed her brave boy-love sadly, lingeringly: 
 
The Moon-Maiden 135 
 
 "Farewell, mortal love; for I must go and wan- 
 der all day in the duU heavens, far from the Rest- 
 ful Lake and thee, till the quiet Night shall come 
 again, and I with her, to thee, once more. Fare- 
 well, sweet, for all the weary toil of coming 
 day." 
 
 And she rose up slowly to climb the pale wan 
 moon-path with tired steps and all unwilling. 
 
 But Chulani for strong love could not refrain, 
 but he cried out, "I will never leave thee, my 
 Queen! Thy way shall be my way, ajid thy path 
 my path through the long waste of heaven and 
 sky." And he laid hold of her train of light- 
 lustred robes as she arose, and they twain soared 
 up through the gray sky, on through the endless 
 realms of space. 
 
 But soon his brain grew dizzy and his eyes dark 
 that they could not see, and his hold slackened, 
 and down through the trackless ways of whirling 
 worlds he fell~ falling always through long years 
 of ages, far from his lost Moon-Queen, for ever 
 8Jid for ever. 
 
 And the maids of Lanka saw him fall, a falling 
 star through the fading night. 
 
 And never again to the Restful Lake did the 
 lorn Moon-Maiden come and never again did she 
 shine with full splendor on the hated earth, save 
 only on one night in every circuit of her journey- 
 ing— the one night on which she had known mor- 
 
136 Stories of India 
 
 tal love. But at all other times she mourned with 
 veiled face darkly, night after night shrouding 
 her sad pale face more and more as she wandered 
 farther from the land of Lanka;— only when she 
 turned backward in her long world-wander did 
 she lift her shroud by slow degrees to see again 
 the spot where Chulani had wooed and won her 
 dreamful heart. 
 
 So in the old-world days the Moon-Maiden fell 
 from her high estate, loving mortal love. 
 
 And so it comes that the Tamil maidens say 
 when they see a falling star, ' ' Give me a faithful 
 love, but not unwise. ' ' But the story of Chulani 
 and of Amara-devi the Moon-Queen in her god- 
 days when her light was always full has been long 
 since forgotten by them. 
 
 But the falling stars and Chulani fall on still, 
 and the faithful Moon yet mourns, true to her 
 short, sweet love^ 
 
'The Greatest Book of the Century" 
 
 KRISHNA: 
 
 THE LORD OF LOVE 
 
 A History of the Universe. 
 
 12mo, 550 pages. 
 
 Prices; Morocco, Three Dollars. 
 
 Cloth, Two Dollars. 
 
 Reviews and Opinions: 
 
 Brooklyn Dally Eagle: — ^An exalted philosophy. 
 
 New York Dally News: — Sree Krishna, the Lord of 
 Love, Is forceful — an extraordinary book. 
 
 Chicago Examiner: — Certainly Its ethics are of the most 
 exalted type. 
 
 Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox: — It Is most Interesting. I 
 find it most clearly and simply told. ... It broadens 
 and Interests, and so I enjoy your most exhaustive work on 
 Creation. 
 
 Henri Pene Du Bols, (New York American) : 
 
 I thank you with all my heart for your book. It realizes 
 a dream of my teacher Stephane Mallarme, the poet, for It 
 has three super-Imposed texts. One is for the passerby, 
 one for the Intellectual! another Is for the artist. And all 
 are excellent. And each one is to be read twice — once for 
 the Ideas that are expressed, the other for the beauty of 
 the phrases. 
 
 "The Listener," Boston Evening Transcript: 
 
 In the true spirit of his lordly race, unabashed before 
 modem science, claiming indeed to have anticipated modem 
 science at all points, sturdy in the simplicity and strength 
 of the faith of the antique world, with all the power of 
 singleness of belief In a few grand all-embracing principles, 
 he issues warnings like the prophets of the ancient Hebrews. 
 In this book "Krishna" is to be found the simplest, most 
 straightforward, most logical exposition of the "Ancient 
 Wisdom" concerning the creation of the universe and evo- 
 lution thereof, of any the "Listener" has happened to see. 
 
 The Oriental Review: 
 
 The boldness of the author Is simply phenomenal. The 
 world has been looking forward to welcome such boldness. 
 It Is the boldness of absolute realization of the Central 
 Truth of Creation, a boldness whose force is living love. 
 It is a boldness which will stagger the spirit of the most 
 captious critic into conviction of the wonderfully luminous 
 Interpretations, given in the book, of the spiritual and moral 
 
 laws and forces of life Baba Bharati has 
 
 dealt the final blow to the West's "swelled-head" notions 
 
of its own superiority in enllglitenment in this the greatest 
 book of the century, in which he has mirrored forth the 
 inner machinery and the workings of the cosmos, for the 
 benefit of th© soul-hungry students the world over, in the 
 easiest English Imaginable. The book deserves the largest 
 circulation. It cannot fail to interest all classes of readers. 
 The prose-poems which embody the life-story of Krishna 
 In Part n and the "Revelations" are chants of soul-thrilling 
 word-music unequalled in English literature. 
 
 Boston Evening Transcript: 
 
 The volume is remarkable for the completeness with 
 which it covers the subject, the extent of the information 
 concerning the different points of the philosophy and re- 
 ligion giving it almost the value of an encyclopaedia of 
 the best in Hindoo thought. 
 
 Bharati's style is of singular directness, simplicity and 
 clearness, and his work throughout is marked by sanity, 
 lucid thinking, and the high purpose of one who is devoted, 
 with all the ardor of a strong, manly nature, not to him- 
 self but to all humanity. — ^[Bjxtracts from a two-column 
 review.] 
 
 American Review of Reviews: 
 
 The volume is really a clear history of the origin, 
 nature and evolution of the universe as the Oriental mind 
 perceives it; it is a clear statement of the doctrine of 
 Karma; an exposition of the caste system; a beautiful story 
 of the Oriental Christ, and perhaps the clearest statement 
 ever published of the Hindoo cosmogony. . . . The love 
 of the source of the universe, which in the Hindoo philos- 
 ophy is Krishna, is the determining force of the universe. 
 It is an extraordinary book — the fascinating exposition of 
 an exalted philosophy. 
 
 Bible Review, Cal.: 
 
 This book is written In an open, liberal style, free of 
 all technicalities — very different from other Hindu works; 
 it is designed more for the general reader, and contains 
 no obscure phrases, nor does it enter into any of the ration- 
 ale or drill for the attainment of powers: the great, per- 
 vading spirit being that of pure devotion. . . . The main 
 value of this work Is to endue the reader with its sweet 
 spirit of love. 
 
 The Outlook, New York: 
 
 In personnel the Peace Congress was as notable as its 
 doings. The most striking of all delegates was the Hindo 
 monk Baba Bharati in his robe and turban; tall, powerful, 
 strong and acute, severely condemning England for its in- 
 vasion of Tibet, full of good will to all, and distinctly 
 affirming the divinity of Jesus Christ. 
 
 TO BE HAD OF 
 C. C. PARKER, Bookseller, 246 S. Broadway, Los Angeles, 
 THE METAPHYSICAL LIBRARY, 611 Grant Building, S. 
 
 Brcradway, Los Angeles, Cal. 
 THE KRISHNA HOME, 730 West 16th St., Los Angeles, Cal. 
 THE OLD CORNER BOOKSTORE, 27-29 Bromfield St., 
 
 Boston, Mass. 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SON, 27 and 29 W. 23d St., New York. 
 JOHN LANE COMPANY, 67 Fifth Ave., New York. 
 
T i ii