Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon, Volume 1 (of 3)
Author: Unknown
Date: 2018-02-21T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Tales -- Sri Lanka

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon, Volume 1 (of 3)

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Title: Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon, Volume 1 (of 3)

Translator: H. Parker

Release date: February 21, 2018 [eBook #56614]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VILLAGE FOLK-TALES OF CEYLON, VOLUME 1 (OF 3) ***

VILLAGE FOLK-TALES
OF CEYLON

VILLAGE FOLK-TALES OF CEYLON

Vol. I

Collected and Translated by
H. PARKER
Late of the Irrigation Department, Ceylon

LONDON
LUZAC & CO
Publishers to the India Office
1910
[All Rights Reserved]

Butler & Tanner The Selwood Printing Works Frome and London

CONTENTS

PAGE

Introduction        1

PART I.

STORIES OF THE CULTIVATING CASTE AND VAEDDĀS.

NO. | |
1 | The Making of the Great Earth | 47
2 | The Sun, the Moon, and Great Paddy | 52
3 | The Story of Senasurā | 54
4 | The Glass Princess | 57
5 | The Frog Prince | 67
6 | The Millet Trader | 72
7 | The Turtle Dove | 79
8 | The Prince and the Princess | 93
9 | Tamarind Ṭikkā | 100
10 | Mātalangē Loku-Appu | 108
11 | The White Turtle | 113
12 | The Black Storks’ Girl | 120
13 | The Golden Kaekiri Fruit | 129
14 | The Four Deaf Persons | 134
15 | The Prince and the Yakā | 137
16 | How a Yakā and a Man fought | 146
17 | Concerning a Man and Two Yakās | 148
18 | The Three Questions | 150
19 | The Faithless Princess | 157
20 | The Prince who did not go to School | 160
21 | Nagul-Munnā | 169
22 | The Kulē-bakā Flowers | 173
23 | Kurulu-gama Appu, the Soothsayer | 179
24 | How a Prince was chased by a Yaksanī | 186
25 | The Wicked King | 191
26 | The Kitul Seeds | 197
27 | The Speaking Horse | 199
28 | The Female Quail | 201
29 | The Pied Robin | 206
30 | The Jackal and the Hare | 209
31 | The Leopard and the Mouse-deer | 213
32 | The Crocodile’s Wedding | 216
33 | The Gamarāla’s Cakes | 219
34 | The Kinnarā and the Parrots | 224
35 | How a Jackal settled a Lawsuit | 228
36 | The Jackal and the Turtle | 234
37 | The Lion and the Turtle | 241

PART II.

STORIES OF THE LOWER CASTES.

38 | The Monkey and the Weaver-Bird (Potter) | 247
39 | The Jackal Dēvatāwā (Washerman) | 249

STORIES OF THE TOM-TOM BEATERS.

The Foolishness of Tom-tom Beaters        252

40 | A Kaḍambāwa Man’s Journey to Puttalam | 253
41 | The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Hares | 255
42 | The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Mouse-deer | 256
43 | The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Bush | 257
44 | How the Kaḍambāwa Men counted Themselves | 258
45 | The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Dream | 260
46 | The Four Tom-tom Beaters | 262
47 | The Golden Tree | 264
48 | The Seven Princesses | 270
49 | Mr. Janel Siññā | 278
50 | The Nikini Story | 284
51 | The Aet-kanda Lēniyā | 291
52 | The Wimalī Story | 302
53 | The Pots of Oil | 304
54 | The Mouse Maiden | 308
55 | Sīgiris Siññō, the Giant | 312
56 | The Proud Jackal | 316

STORIES OF THE DURAYĀS.

57 | The Seven Robbers | 317
58 | The Stupid Boy | 319
59 | The Gamarāla and the Washerman | 322
60 | The Two Thieves | 330
61 | The Margōsa Tree | 334
62 | The Gamarāla’s Foolish Son | 336
63 | The Jackal’s Judgment | 339
64 | The Heron and the Crab | 342
65 | The Jackal and the Brāhmaṇa | 347
66 | The Cat who guarded the Precepts | 349
67 | The Lizard and the Leopard | 355
68 | The Lion and the Jackal | 359

STORIES OF THE ROḌIYĀS.

69 | The Roll of Cotton | 364
70 | The Jackal and the Leopard | 367
71 | How the Boars killed the Rākshasa | 370
72 | The Grateful Jackal | 373

STORIES OF THE KINNARĀS.

73 | Concerning a Monk and a Yakā | 375
74 | The Three Suitors | 378
75 | The Crocodile and the Jackal | 380

Index        383

INTRODUCTION

When the forest and jungle of north-central or north-western Ceylon is viewed from the upper part of a hill of considerable height, it has the appearance of a dark green sea, across which, if there be any wind, waves closely resembling those of the ocean roll along in parallel lines as the swaying tree tops bend under the gusts of the breeze. As clouds pass between it and the sun their shadows of darker green follow each other over this seemingly illimitable ocean. The undulations of the ground are lost; all appears to be at one general level, except that here and there a little island is visible where a low rocky mound succeeds in raising its head above the verdant waves.

Any hills of lower elevation than our post of observation look strangely dwarfed, while higher ones behind us stand out more prominently than ever. In the immediate neighbourhood, perhaps glimpses may be obtained of one or two pale green rice fields, contrasting with the darker foliage around them, and of the light blue reflection of the sky in the water of a village tank; but further away there is no break in the uniformity of the forest sea. No houses are to be seen nor sounds heard, and the visible country appears to be an uninhabited silent wilderness of vegetation.

Let us descend from such an elevated post, and proceed to examine the depths of the green ocean at closer quarters. I shall assume that the reader is accompanying me on a visit to a Kandian village, where we can learn something of the mode of life and the ideas of the dwellers in this jungle, and become acquainted with some of the animals who are introduced into the stories which they relate.

We leave the dusty main roads, and follow a winding village path, never straight for a hundred yards except by accident—not such a path as was constantly encountered thirty or more years ago, on which the overhanging thorny bushes often made it necessary to bend low or run the risk of having one’s clothes torn, but a track flanked with grass, having the bushes completely cleared away for a width of twelve feet.

For a long distance we journey under an exhausting, pitiless, brazen sun, which during all the middle part of the day the traveller feels but never sees—never directing his gaze towards its blinding glare. The heat is reflected from the unsheltered path. Shut out from the cooling breath of the wind, we have on each side only closely interlaced jungle, a tangled growth, consisting chiefly of leafy thorns and creepers from ten to fifteen feet high, interspersed at varying intervals with a few large trees. This is the wild growth that has sprung up on the sites of abandoned chēnas or jungle clearings, and will be cut down again for them from five to seven years afterwards.

An occasional recent example of such a clearing may be passed, having a few large surviving scorched trees, and several smaller ones, interspersed among the growing crop of green millet. Round this a rough fence made by laying sticks and blackened sapling trunks horizontally between pairs of crooked posts—part of the unconsumed remains after the cut and dried up bushes had been burnt—protects the crop from the intrusion of deer and pigs and buffaloes.

Near the middle of the clearing, where two young trees grow in proximity, two thin posts have been fixed in the ground, and between these four supports a floor of sticks has been constructed at a height of ten or twelve feet above the ground, reached by a rough stick ladder with rungs two feet apart, and having a thatched roof overhead, and a flimsy wall of sticks, interwoven with leafy twigs or grass on the windward side. A thin floor of earth, watered and beaten until it became hard, permits a small fire of sticks to be made in the shelter if the nocturnal air be chilly. In this solitary watch-hut a man, or sometimes two, sit or lie nightly, in order to drive away intruding animals that may successfully evade or break through the protecting fence, and feed on the crop.

In such clearings are cultivated chiefly millet of different sorts, or edible grasses, sesame, and a small pulse called mun; while in the richer soil around some scattered conical brown anthills are planted maize, pumpkins, or red chillies, and a few small cucumbers called kaekiri, bearing yellow or reddish fruit some six inches long. Climbing up two or three of the smaller trees are to be seen gourds, with their curious, hanging, pale, bottle-shaped fruit.

Along the path through the chēna jungle there are not many signs of life. A Monitor Lizard or “Iguana,” about four feet long, which we frighten as it was licking up ants and other insects on the roadside with its extensile thin tongue, scurries off quickly, and disappears down a hole in the side of an anthill. Over the jungle come the slow monotonous calls, “Tok, tok, tok, tok,” of a small Barbet, perched on the topmost twig of one of the higher trees, jerking its body to the right and left as it repeats its single note. A Woodpecker crosses the path with a screaming cry, three times repeated, and a few other birds may appear at intervals, but otherwise there is not much to break the sameness.

Then, if one be lucky, comes a tract of the original forest that has escaped the chēna clearer’s destructive bill-hook and fires, in which is immediately experienced the welcome relief afforded by the delightful cool shade cast by the forest trees of many species which stretch high above the lower bushes. This is the home of the Elephant, traces of which are observed in the wide footprints and an occasional broken-down sapling or fractured branch. A slightly leaning tree on the side of the path has tempted one to rub his back on it, and lower down are the scratches left by a Leopard’s claws, as he scraped them on it like a cat.

As we pass along the leaf-strewn way, the loud hoarse cry, “Hō, hō,” of the large grey Monkeys (Semnopithecus priamus) whom we startle, resounds through the trees. They cease to feed on the succulent young leaves, and shake the rustling branches in their bold leaps among the higher ones. This is soon followed by a sudden stillness as they mysteriously conceal themselves, vanishing as though by magic among the denser foliage.

Bird calls unfamiliar to a stranger are heard, especially the short cry of two notes, rather than the crow, of the Jungle-cock—the wild game-fowl of Ceylon,—the sheep-like bleats of the Lesser Hornbill, sometimes the rich notes of the Crested Drongo, or the often reiterated whistle, “To meet ye´-ou,” of the Whistling Babbler. A charming Ground Dove that was picking up seeds on the path, flies off quickly down the path, and turns suddenly through the bushes. A few white or brown or striped Butterflies, and sometimes the lovely, large, dark velvety-green or steely blue Ornithoptera, flit about. A few sharp notes, uttered as a small timid creature, little bigger than a hare, darts off under the bushes, tell us that we have startled a little Mouse-deer, Mīminnā. These fragile-looking animals always stand on tiptoe, appearing exactly, as Mr. R. A. Sterndale expressed it in his work, The Mammalia of India, “as if a puff of wind would blow them away.” But as a rule, there is not much animal life noticeable even in these forests, unless one can spare time to search for it.

Another patch of the chēna jungle succeeds the forest, and then the path reaches one end of the embankment of a village tank or reservoir, a shallow sheet of water varying in size from two or three acres to more than one hundred, but commonly from twenty to fifty in area. The trim, earthen, grass-sloped embankment, nearly straight, from an eighth of a mile to half a mile long, from nine to sixteen feet high, and six feet wide on the top, rises a few feet above the water level.

In its contrast with the parched and heated ground along which we have come, the scene always appears strikingly beautiful. There are few fairer spots on the earth than some of the village tanks when they are nearly full of water. Here we may sit in the cool shelter of an umbrageous tree, and contemplate nature in its most idyllic aspect. The busy world, with its turmoil and stress, its noisy factories and clanging machinery, its hurrying railway trains and motor-cars, its crowded cities full of an artificial and unhealthy existence, has disappeared, as though it had been merely a fantastic vision of the night. Here all is peace: an uneventful calm that has survived the changes of perhaps two thousand years, and that may be unaltered in another two thousand. One may wonder if the fevered life of the present western civilisation will last as long, or will have burnt itself out, and been swept away like that of the dead civilisations that preceded it.

Abandoning these day dreams, which the seclusion of the site induces, we look around us. At both sides of the tank and along the outer toe of the embankment grow lofty trees, with grey trunks often strengthened by wide buttresses, which are thrown out so as to afford their support in the direction in which it is chiefly needed. If a branch become unduly expanded on one side of the tree, always that on which it receives the rays of the sun, so as to displace the centre of gravity, the trunk at once proceeds to develop these thin triangular buttresses under it, wide at the base, and extending ten or fifteen feet upward. As though designed by an engineer, there are usually two which act as struts, and support the trunk below the overweighted branch; and on the opposite side a broader one which acts as a tie, and assists in holding back the stem.

There is no lack of varied forms of animal life here. Often a party of brown Monkeys who have come to drink at the tank are to be seen in some of the trees, sitting quietly inspecting the visitors, or walking leisurely along the branches, a few of the females carrying under their bodies a young one tightly clutching them.

In many tanks, a low grey or dark-stained rock in the water affords a favourite basking ground for the sluggish muddy-brown Crocodiles that make their home in all but a few of the smallest of these tanks. They lie on it like stranded logs, exposed to the sun’s rays, often with wide-open mouths, as though overcome by the heat, from which, however, they make no effort to escape.

A few black Cormorants and a white Egret or two may also be there, resting on another part of the rock; and close to the water even one or two little Black Tank Turtles, but not the edible White Tank Turtle (Kiri-ibbā), which is much less common. On a stump in the water is usually perched a Darter, a bird that can outswim its fishy prey, with long snake-like neck, drying its expanded wings under the fiery tropical rays. Its mate will be immersed in the water, in which it swims with only its head and neck visible above the surface.

Near the upper margin of the tank wades, with long deliberate strides, a lanky Great White Egret (Herodias alba), its neck outstretched in advance, and head held ready for a rapid spear-like thrust of its long tapering bill at any frog or small fish incautious enough to remain within its fatal reach. Nearer the edge of the shallowest water Lesser Egrets step more hurriedly in search of frogs, and often chase them as they rush spluttering along its surface.

At the larger tanks the hoarse scream of a White-tailed Fishing Eagle (Polioaetus ichthyaetus), perched on one of the higher branches of a tall tree overhanging the water, resounds across the open space, without frightening a flock of reddish-brown Whistling Teal that float motionless near some lotus leaves, watching the human intruders, who monopolise all their attention.

As we proceed along the embankment, we disturb some of the large Frogs that were sunning themselves on it, or catching flies near the edge of the water, and that plunge headlong into it with extended hind legs.

We now perceive on the low side of the tank a stretch of fields, a couple of hundred yards, a quarter of a mile, or half a mile long, or even more, in which the clear uniform light green sheet of the paddy or growing rice affords a pleasant relief after the uninteresting chēna jungle. A long group of feathery-fronded Coconut trees near the tank, fringing the far side of the field, indicates that we are close to a Kandian village. The thatched grey roofs of some of the houses are soon distinguishable below the palms, nearly concealed among the plantain trees and other bushes growing about them. Above these stand out several tall, deep green, pointed-leaved Mango trees, and higher still a few wide-spreading Tamarinds and slender Halmilla trees.

Before we reach them, our attention is again arrested by the repeated mewing calls of the light-coloured Jacanas (Hydrophasianus chirurgus), with pheasant-like tails and enormously lengthened toes, which distribute their weight over a wide area. This enables them to walk on the round floating leaves of the lotus plants that cover one portion of the tank, picking unwary insects out of the water.

Near the side of the tank are to be seen the upper parts of the dark heads of buffaloes, of which the bodies are immersed, as they lazily chew the cud. A White Egret is perched on one whose back appears above the water. At intervals a head disappears quietly below the surface, and the dense crowd of small flies that had settled on it is driven to flight, only to return once more as soon as it rises again.

In the shallower water near them, and nearly stationary, or moving a few feet only at a time, stands a small silent Pond Heron (Ardeola grayi), avoiding observation as much as possible. Its shoulders are raised, and its head is drawn down, so that it appears to have no neck; its dorsal plumes spread over the closed wings and completely hide them. When it stands still in this, its usual, attitude it is almost unnoticeable among the aquatic weeds. On our approach it flies off with a croak, transformed into a bird displaying broad white wings and a long thin neck. It is far from being the voracious bird that a well-known tale represents it to be.

A Chestnut Bittern (Ardetta cinnamomea), that had stationed itself at the foot of the embankment, flits silently across the water, and a Blue or Pied Kingfisher is seen poising itself with down-turned bill, over a shoal of small fishes, on which it drops unexpectedly with a sudden splash, and then wings its way to another position where others have been detected.

On a patch of grass at the upper side of the tank we observe a couple of white-necked Black Storks (Ciconia leucocephala) promenading sedately in search of luckless frogs, but maintaining a careful watch for human enemies who may be tempted to endeavour to approach within gunshot.

Near this end of the embankment, a party of village women who have brought their large, narrow-mouthed, brown earthen pots or “chatties” for water, holding them on their hips by passing an arm round the neck, will probably take to flight on seeing the white strangers, or otherwise stand as far off the path as the space permits, until they pass. A cry of rapidly shouted words is repeated through the village, announcing the arrival of “gentlemen,” and soon some of the men emerge, and after saluting us with hands raised to the chest and palms touching each other, guide us into it.

On our way we pass by single houses or groups of two or three, built in the midst of each little paddock, fifty or one hundred feet wide or more, often with a very slight fence around it, of the scattered area under the coconut palms which forms the gardens of the Kandian village. Decently clad men and women come out of their mud-walled and often whitewashed dwellings to stare at the strangers, as well as children of all sizes, in varying stages of scanty clothing, from a short piece of white calico which reaches from the waist to the ankles, down to its vanishing point. The men wear a plain white cloth from the waist to the ankles. The women have a white or coloured one about twelve feet long, one end passing from the waist over the front of the figure, with the corner thrown over the right shoulder, and hanging down behind as far as the waist; the rest of the cloth is wrapped twice round the lower part of the figure, from the waist downwards. When they visit other villages many of the people of both sexes wear white jackets; in the women’s jackets the sleeves are gathered and puffed out at the shoulder, and reach only to the elbow, and there is a wide, sometimes frilled, double collar.

Our guides lead us on until we reach a dwelling possibly a little more carefully constructed than the others, close to which is a thatched, open, rectangular shed, about twelve feet long by nine feet wide, with its roof resting on plain round wooden posts. Its raised earthen floor is hastily swept, a heavy wooden mortar cut out of a piece of tree trunk, and used for pounding rice in order to remove the skin, is rolled away, and the shed is then ready for our temporary occupation.

This is a maḍuwa, or shed erected for travellers and strangers, as well as for the general use of the owner, in which the women may plait mats, or clean paddy or rice in the wooden mortar, with a long wooden pestle having an iron ring round the lower end. Here also the man’s friends may sit and chat, and chew the leaf of the Betel vine with broken-up bits of the nut of the Areka Palm, and a little lime, and a fragment of tobacco leaf, while they discuss the state of the crops, or the local news.

When such a shed is erected on the side of a path for public use, it may have, but rarely, half walls four feet high; or the posts may be tenoned into a rectangle of substantial squared logs that are halved into each other at the angles, where they rest upon large stones, so as to be clear of the ground, and thus partly protected from attacks by white ants. The squared beams act as seats for the tired passer-by.

At the end of the maḍuwa in the village there is sometimes a very small room of the same width, in which is stored millet or pulse in bags, or ash-pumpkins, together with a few articles required about the house, such as surplus grass mats, and flat winnowing baskets. Under the roof of the maḍuwa, above the cross-beams and some sticks laid on them, will be the owner’s little plough, and board for levelling the mud of the rice field before sowing, and some short coils of rope made from the twisted inner bark of tough creepers, and one or two fish creels.

When there is no suitable shed of this kind for the visitor, a hut, usually one belonging to the village headman, is swept out and temporarily given up to our use. If information of the coming visit had been sent beforehand, the hut or shed would have been provided with a ceiling made of lengths of white calico borrowed from the family washerman, and perhaps the walls also would have been hung with others, sometimes including such coloured ones as he had washed for some of the villagers.

While food is being prepared by our servants in a small shed or kitchen close to the house, we stroll through the village, and observe as we go that all the houses lie east and west, or north and south, and are thatched with straw or plaited Coconut leaves. They are all rectangular, usually eight or nine feet wide and some twelve feet long, and are raised a couple of feet from the ground, on a solid earthen foundation. Each one has a low veranda, two feet six inches or three feet wide, along the front side, and one heavy door of adzed or sawn timber near the middle; but there is very rarely a window, and even then only one of the smallest size.

Near the end of the house, and within sight of the veranda, there are one or two round corn stores, considerably wider at the top than at the base, with conical thatched roofs. They rest upon cross sticks placed upon four horizontal adzed logs, which are supported by four small rough blocks of stone at the corners. Their walls are made of a wicker frame hung from four or five durable posts set in the ground, which are usually the heart wood of trees that are not eaten by white ants. The upper part of the wicker frame is firmly tied to the tops of these, and the whole wicker work is then thickly overlaid and stiffened by successive coatings of mixed clay and sand, on which, as on all the walls and floor of the dwelling house, there is placed a thin surface wash of cow-dung.

These corn stores contain the household supply of paddy or millet. They are entered only by raising the loose conical roof on one side by a long prop, and getting inside by means of a rough ladder, at the opening thus made, over the top of the wall, which rises eight or nine feet above the ground. Sometimes, but rarely in the northern Kandian districts, a small rectangular hut is used as a corn store, the entrance in that case being made through a doorway in the middle of one side.

The open ground along the front of the house is clean, and free from grass and weeds, and is swept every morning. In this space, called the miḍula, there is a stand of peeled sticks supported on thin posts, and having a stick platform about four feet, or a little more, in length and two feet in width, raised three feet from the ground, with often another similar platform below it. On these are laid, after being washed, the blackened earthenware cooking pots of the house, and spoons made of segments of coconut shell with long wooden handles, which are used with them.

In the little kitchen at the end of the house, with a lean-to roof, the hearths or fire-places called lipa are formed of three round stones fixed on the ground, about eight inches apart, on which are set the cooking pots, over a fire of dry sticks. Sometimes a separate small shed is built as a kitchen, but often the cooking is done inside the single apartment of the house, at one end of it.

In each garden are a number of Coconut trees, some thin Halmilla trees, and often a Mango tree, or a dark-leaved Jak tree, with its enormous light green fruit hanging on pedicles from the trunk or larger branches, as well as a Lime tree, and four or five clumps of Plantain stems nearer the dwelling. Round the base of one or two of the Coconuts or Halmilla trees are piled on end long bundles of firewood, nearly two feet thick and six or eight feet long, the unconsumed sticks from the chēna, collected by the women, tied round with creepers, and carried home on their heads. Climbing up a small tree in front of the house is a fine Betel vine, which is watered every day during the dry weather. We notice that a bleached skull of a bull is fixed among the leaves to guard the creeper from the unlucky glance of the “Evil Eye,” which might cause its premature decay. In the damper ground adjoining the rice field a few slender Areka palms are growing, with their clusters of small fruit hanging below their leafy crowns.

On the outer side of the village, near the embankment of the tank, there are the large, rough-stemmed Tamarind trees that we noticed as we came. A number of separate thin posts are fixed in the bare ground below them, to which are tethered a few small Buffalo calves, which will be joined by their mothers at dusk, after their bath in the tank is finished.

Further on, there is a small enclosure protected by a stick fence, round which a few thorns are placed. At the entrance, the halves of a split log, about nine inches wide, form gate posts; and five moveable horizontal bars pass easily through holes cut through them, a few loose thorns being rolled against them when the enclosure is shut up at night. This is a cattle-fold, or gāla, into which the little harmless black humped cattle are driven each evening by some boys, with the repeated long-drawn cry, Gālē, “Into the fold.” In some districts tobacco or chillies will be planted on this well-manured plot of ground in the following spring, a new cattle fold being then made.

On our return to the shed we see that our host’s wife has cooked his evening meal of boiled rice and vegetable curry, with a bit of sun-dried fish as a flavouring, these last being often made burning hot with red chillies. She serves it in the raised veranda to him and a relative who has come from a distant village, after giving them water for rinsing out their mouths. Both sit or “squat” on their heels, and convey the food to their mouths with their right hands, out of the shallow, rather wide basins that act as plates. Where the supply of such household articles runs short, leaf plates made of a piece of plantain leaf, or two or three halmilla leaves pinned together, are used. When they have finished the meal, and have rinsed their right hands and drunk water—which is never taken while eating—and have been served with a chew of betel leaf and its accompaniments, the wife eats the remains of the meal alone, inside the house. If she and her husband were alone they would take it together, the husband being first served.

The men now sit on mats spread in the narrow veranda, where a little oil lamp is perhaps hung, and the woman, after throwing out the remains of the food for the dog, and washing the basins and cooking utensils, and arranging them on their stand, joins the party, and shares in the evening’s conversation. Sometimes, however, she finds it necessary to pound some paddy until bed-time, in order to remove the husk, in readiness for the meals of the following day; or millet or rice may require grinding into flour in the stone quern.

If some intimate village friends were there, this would be the time when, after discussing the events of the day, or making arrangements for the morrow, a member of the party might finish the evening’s chat by relating one of the familiar old stories of which translations appear in this book.

In the end the woman retires, the visitor stretches himself on his grass mat in the veranda, and the host extinguishes the lamp, if one had been lit, and enters the single room of his house. On the next night it will be his turn to occupy the watch-hut at the chena, where his partner is sitting now.

All take care to lie, if possible, in an east and west direction, and on no account with their heads to the south. This is the abode of Yama, the god of death, while the north is the quarter inhabited by demons. These directions are therefore exposed to evil influences which might affect the sleeper, and perhaps cause such unlucky omens as evil dreams.

The dog curls himself on the ground at the front of the house, the cat wanders off to join some village cronies, and all is silent in the village, except the rustling of the Coconut fronds overhead, the monotonous call, “Wuk; chok-chŏ-tok,” uttered by a small owl in one of the higher trees, and the more distant chorus of the frogs in the adjoining rice field.

Now and again we hear at some villages the long-drawn, human-like cry, “Hōō, hōō, hōō,” of a large Wood-Owl (Syrnium indranee), that is flying round high in the air, and answering its distant mate. It is a weird unearthly sound, which is always firmly believed by the villagers to be uttered by demons, as will be noticed in some of the stories.

The earliest cry of the morning is the deep booming note, three or four times repeated, of the large Ground Cuckoo (Centrococcyx rufipennis), which is heard soon after dawn appears. Our host’s wife is at work before daylight, scraping into shreds the kernel of a half coconut, and preparing some milk-rice—rice boiled in milk made by squeezing grated coconut in water until the latter assumes the colour of milk.

By sun-rise, the Crows of the village are astir, and the Parrakeets, commonly called “Parrots” in the East, which have been sleeping in the coconut trees, fly away in parties in search of food.

The notes of the double kettle-drum at a neighbouring wihāra, or Buddhist temple, consisting of three deep-toned strokes at short intervals, followed by five rapid blows on a higher key, once repeated, the whole series being many times sounded, now announce to the villagers within hearing that this is one of the four Pōya days of the month, the Buddhist Sabbath, kept at each of the quarters of the moon.

About an hour later, our host’s wife is joined by a party of eight or ten women, and one or two men, all dressed in clean white clothes. They proceed to the temple, each carrying in a small bowl a present of milk-rice and a few cakes, covered with a white cloth. There they chant three times, after the resident monk, the Buddhist creed, “I go to the Buddha-refuge, I go to the Faith-refuge, I go to the Community (of Monks)-refuge”; this is followed by some more stanzas in the ancient language, Pāli, after which they return, and resume the ordinary occupations of the day.

Our host is about to leave his room after his night’s rest, when the chirp of a little pale-coloured House Lizard on the wall causes him to turn back suddenly, in order to avoid the evil influences against which the wise Lizard had uttered its warning voice. He occupies himself in the house for a short time longer, and then, at a luckier moment, makes his appearance afresh, taking care to step over the threshold with the right foot first.

He is cheered by finding that nothing obstructs his way in the least after he comes out, and that we are the first living beings on which his gaze rests. To begin the day by seeing first a person of superior status is a lucky omen of the favourable character of the rest of the day, and one with which he is not often blessed. We increase the auspicious impression by a few judicious friendly remarks; but are careful not to offer any decided praise regarding any of his possessions, since we are aware of his opinion that one never knows if such sayings may not have a reverse effect through the malevolence of jealous evil spirits. There is an Evil Mouth, as well as an Evil Eye.

A man or two, and a few boys, come from the adjoining houses to watch our doings, from the open space in front of the house, or the veranda; but all turn their faces away and ignore us from the moment when we sit down to our “early tea,” and until it is finished. This is done so as to avoid any risk of our food’s affecting us injuriously, owing to a possible glance of the Evil Eye, which a person may possess without being aware of the fact.

We notice a little copper tube slung on the right upper arm of our host’s wife, by means of a yellow thread which passes through two rings on its under side. In reply to our carefully worded inquiry regarding it, he informs us that as she had been troubled with evil dreams they had thought it advisable to get a friend of his, a Vedarāla or doctor, who was acquainted with astrological and magical lore, to supply her with a magical diagram and spell against dreams, inscribed on a strip of dried palm leaf, which was rolled up and placed in the tube. The thread, a triple one, was coloured with saffron, and nine knots were made on it before it was tied on her arm, a magical spell being repeated as each knot was made. Thanks to this safeguard the dreams had ceased, but it was considered advisable not to remove the thread and charm for a few weeks longer.

Our host’s relative, having eaten some milk-rice, and taken a chew of betel and areka-nut in his mouth, is about to return to his distant village, and now leaves, saying only, “Well, I am going.” “It is good; having gone come,” is the reply. The latter word must not be omitted, or it might appear that his return in the future was not desired.

So he sets off on his journey, the host accompanying him to the garden fence. However, in a few minutes he is back again, and explains that he had met with a bad omen which made it necessary to postpone the departure. A dog stood in the path, obstructing his way, and made no attempt to move even when he spoke to it. The host cordially agrees that it would be most unwise to continue the journey after such an unfavourable omen on starting, and it is settled that he will leave early in the afternoon, when the danger, whatever it may be, probably will have passed away.

And so on, like a perpetual nightmare haunting him during his whole journey through life, the Kandian villager sees his dreaded portents in the simplest occurrences of his daily life. A few are prognostications of good luck; but far more in number are those which are to him obvious warnings, not to be disregarded with impunity, of some unknown but impending evil that he must avoid if possible.

Every evil is directly due to evil spirits, either specially instigated to injure him by inimical magicians, or taking advantage of some accidental opportunity. The evil spirits are innumerable and malevolent, and ever ready to make use of any chance to annoy or injure human beings. Thus it would be the height of foolhardiness to ignore events that appear to be signs of some approaching unfavourable action on their part.

One man informed me that in the dusk one evening he was unable to find the little exit path from his chena, and was compelled to remain all night there before the clearing work was finished. He attributed this entirely to the malicious action of an evil spirit, who had blocked it up in order to annoy him. When daylight came the path was clear, and so plainly to be seen that he was certain that he could not have missed it at night had it been in a similar state at that time.

I knew of one instance in which a man who had arranged to make a lengthy trading journey, and had loaded his cart with produce ready for an early start at daybreak, abandoned the trip because he had a dream in the night which he considered indicated an unfavourable prospect. The reader will find a similar tale included among these stories; and although the villagers laugh at the foolish men of whom it is related, there are scores of others who would return home under such circumstances.

It is a holiday season for the villagers, during which they can devote themselves to the congenial occupation of contemplating the growth of the rice and the millet crop; but it was preceded by much hard work in the rice field and the chena. The felling of the thorny jungle at the chena, the lopping and burning of the bushes, the clearing and hoeing of the ground, and the construction of the surrounding fence, were carried on continuously under a scorching sun from morning to night, until the work was completed shortly before the first light showers enabled the seed to be sown, after a further clearing of the weeds that had sprung up over the ground.

As soon as the heavier rains had softened the hard soil of the rice field, baked, where not sandy, by the tropical sun until it became like stone, the work of ploughing and preparing the land for the paddy crop was one that permitted little or no intermission. Every morning the men carried their little ploughs on their shoulders, and yoking a couple of buffaloes to each of them, spent many hours in guiding the blunt plough backwards and forwards through the soil, overgrown since the last crop by a covering of grass. It requires no slight labour to convert such an apparently intractable material into a smooth sheet of soft mud, eight inches deep. After that is done, all the little earthen ridges that form the raised borders of each of the rectangular plots into which the field is divided, and that are necessary for retaining the sheet of water which is periodically flooded over the rice, must be repaired and trimmed.

When that is accomplished the ground must be sown by hand without delay, with paddy which has already sprouted, and being merely scattered lightly on the surface of the thick mud, will grow at once. The preparation of the paddy for this purpose is one of the duties of the women, who soak it in water, and spread it a few inches thick on large mats laid on the floor of the shed or the veranda. In three days it will be sprouted, and ready for immediate sowing. After the sowing is completed, there still remains the repair or reconstruction of the stick fence which protects the field from cattle, or, in some parts, deer.

It is thought to be essential for obtaining a satisfactory crop, that each of the more important operations of these or any other works should be commenced on a day and at an hour that have been selected by the local astrologer as auspicious. There must be no unfavourable aspects of the planets, which are held to have a most powerful and often deleterious influence on all terrestrial matters; planets or no planets, certain days are also recognised by every person who claims a modicum of intelligence, as being notoriously unlucky.

After the time for beginning the ploughing, or commencing the clearing of the jungle at the chena, has been so chosen, a start must be made at that hour, even though it be nothing more than a beginning; and usually the plough is once run at that time through each little plot of the field, several days before the real ploughing is undertaken. In the case of the chena, a few branches will be lopped off at the lucky moment, and the remainder of the work can then be done when convenient.

Without such necessary precautions no village cultivator would be astonished at the subsequent failure or unproductiveness of the crops, either through excess or deficiency of the rainfall, or damage caused by wild animals, or, in the case of the rice, by an excessive irruption of “flies” or bugs, which suck out the milky juices of the immature grains. The surprise would be felt, not at the failure of the crops under such unfavourable conditions, but at the survival of any crop worth reaping.

Of course, in the case of the “flies” on the rice the usual remedy of their forefathers will be tried. A Bali Tiyannā, a priest who makes offerings to arrest or avert the evil influences due to unpropitious planets, will be summoned. After presenting a small offering, he will march round the crop, blowing a perforated chank shell in order to alarm any unfavourable spirits; at each side of the field he will formally exorcise the flies, and in a loud voice order them to depart.1

But on the whole, notwithstanding the thorough confidence of the exorcist in the efficacy of this treatment, it is felt to be a last resort, which ought to be, but often is not, altogether as successful as the owner of the crop might desire. Planets and flies are sometimes intractable, and will not hearken to the charmer. Besides, thinks the cultivator, who knows if the Bali Tiyannā was so foolish as to speak to some one on his march round the field, and thus break the spell?

Now that he comes to consider the matter, the cultivator remembers that he heard the cry of a Woodpecker2 as he was leaving the house for the first ploughing. He thought at the time that, as the hour had been declared to be a fortunate one, that warning scream was intended for some other person; but now he is of opinion that it may have been addressed to him. It is unfortunate; it must have been settled by Fate that he should neglect it, but he will exercise more care another time. He feels that he can always place confidence in the House Lizards and Woodpeckers, because they receive their information from the gods themselves.

When the chena crop is ripe, the wives of the owners collect a number of friends and relatives, and proceed with them to the place, each carrying a light sack or two, and a diminutive sickle. With this they cut off the heads of the millet, storing them in the sacks; the straw is left as useless. All the party are rather gaily dressed, usually in white, and often have a broad strip of calico tied over the head, with the ends falling down the back. This work is looked upon as a recreation, and is carried on amid a large amount of chatter and banter, and the singing of songs by first one and then another, each verse being repeated by the whole party. Some that are sung are simple verses from the olden time, which probably are believed to have a magical influence.

At noon and in the evening the bags full of millet are carried to the houses of the owners of the crop. Meals are provided for the whole party by them, and no payment is made for the work. In most districts the men never take any part in this reaping, and their presence would be thought objectionable. As one of them expressed it, they stay at home and boil water.

For the reaping of the rice crop, the man to whom it belongs collects a few assistants in the same way, the women also sometimes joining in the work. The stems of the plants are cut near the ground, and are tied up in little sheaves, which are collected first at some of the junctions of the earthen ridges in the field. The whole are removed afterwards and built into larger stacks at the side of the field, near a flat threshing-floor of hard earth, surrounded by a fence in which a few trees are planted as a shade.

The threshing of the stacks is a business of great importance, which must be performed according to ancient customs that are supposed to have a magical effect, and prevent injurious demoniacal interference with the out-turn. After the floor has been thoroughly cleaned and purified, a magical circular diagram, with mystical symbols round it, is drawn on the ground round a central post, before the threshing can be commenced.

The unthreshed rice is laid over the floor in a circle round the central post, and four buffaloes in a row are driven over it, round and round the post, following the direction taken by the sun, that is, from the east towards the south and so on through the circle, the stems of the rice being shaken up from time to time. After the corn has been thus trampled out of the ears it is collected and poured gradually out of baskets held high in the air, so that the wind may blow away the chaff. The corn is then placed in sacks and carried to the store.

After the crop of the chena or field has been gathered in, a small offering of the first-fruits is made at the local Dēwāla, or demon temple, and cleaned rice is also presented to the resident monk at the local Buddhist temple.

When the crop is placed in the store, the household supply of food for at least a great part of the year, and commonly for the whole year, has been provided for. Such additions as salt, sun-dried fish, and some of the condiments used in curries are obtained by bartering coconuts, or paddy, or millet, at little roadside shops which are established at a few places along the main roads throughout the country. These are kept by Muhammadan trades—commonly termed Tambi, with, in village talk, the honorific addition ayiyā, “elder brother,”—or Sinhalese from the Low Country districts, or Tamils from Jaffna; and rarely or never by Kandians. From these shops, also, clothes are procured at long intervals in the same way, or a special journey is made to the nearest town or larger shopping centre.

As a general rule, in the interior it is all a matter of barter, and very little money is used, so little indeed that if the crops be less satisfactory than usual the villager often has difficulty in paying the tax of a rupee and a half (two shillings), which is collected by Government each year from adult males, towards the cost of keeping the roads in order. In the poorer districts, the payment of this, the only direct tax of the villager, is like a recurring annual nightmare, which worries him for weeks together, and unfortunately cannot be charmed away, like his other nightmares, by a magic thread.

Village life is on the whole a dull one. Its excitements are provided by demon-ceremonies for the cure of sickness, occasional law-suits, and more especially by weddings, which afford a welcome opportunity for feasting, and displaying clothes and jewellery, but sometimes also cause quarrels owing to caste or family jealousies. It would be too long a digression to attempt to describe these here. Pilgrimages to important Buddhist temples are also undertaken, about nine-tenths of the pilgrims being women, a proportion sometimes observable in church attendance in England.

One of the pleasantest features of village life is the family re-union at the Sinhalese New Year, April 11 or 12, when all the members meet at their old home if possible, and make little presents to each other, and pay ceremonial visits, dressed in their best clothes, to their relatives and friends. The men also call on their local headmen, who in the same way visit their superiors. I have known considerable numbers of villagers tramp ninety miles on hot dusty roads, with an equally long return journey in prospect, in order to be present at this home gathering.

For three weeks before the day, the whole village life is disorganised by preparations for this festival. The houses are furbished up, plantains and palm sugar are collected, often from places many miles away, new clothes are purchased, and every one’s mind is given up to anticipation of the event and provision for it, to the complete exclusion of all ordinary work. It is also a busy time for astrologers, who are required to fix a suitable day and a lucky hour for the first lighting of the New Year’s fire, the first cooking of food, and, three or four days later, the hour at which the heads of all shall be anointed, pending which important ceremony no work is begun or journey commenced.

In many villages the women produce from some dark hiding-place the little board with fourteen little cup-shaped hollows, in two rows each consisting of seven cups, on which the ancient game called in Ceylon “Olinda” is played. Four bright red seeds of the Olinda creeper are placed in each cup, and the two players, who sit on opposite sides of the board, “sow” them one by one in the holes. As a rule, only the women play at this game, at which many of them are adepts, carrying it on for hours at a time with the greatest rapidity and skill. At the conclusion of the New Year’s holiday, or soon after it, the boards are returned to their hiding-places, and often are not used again for another year. In the villages where Low Country influence has penetrated, many of the men find gambling a more attractive amusement, as well as a more exciting one, at this time.

About once in a couple of years a party of Gypsies who speak Telugu, and broken Tamil and Sinhalese, come along the high road, and settle down on a patch of open grass near a tank. The talipat palm leaves with which their diminutive oblong huts are roofed, and strong creepers or bamboos curved in a semicircle, for making the skeleton framework, are transported on small donkeys, the women and children carrying the other few household goods and cooking utensils in bundles on their heads. Some take about with them large numbers of goats.

As soon as they have raised their little huts, each about four feet high, and surrounded by a shallow channel for carrying off rain water, the adults leave them in charge of the children and old women, and spread through all the villages of the neighbourhood in order to collect food or money. The man carries in a round, flat, black basket slung in a cloth from his shoulder, a cobra or two, which are made to “dance,” a term which means merely sitting coiled up (the head with the hood expanded being raised about fifteen inches from the ground), and making attempts to strike the moving knee or hand of the crouching exhibitor. The women tell fortunes by the lines on the hands.

All the village girls endeavour to raise the requisite three halfpence or twopence so as to hear, often for the third or fourth time, of their past and future experiences, and to be promised handsome husbands possessing fields and cattle. The adults pay a little rice for the exhibition of the cobras.

When the Gypsies have exhausted the contributory possibilities of the adjoining villages they move on again to another camping ground. They have always a number of dogs which assist in catching animals for the food supply, and it is few, whether provided with legs or without legs, that are thought unfit to eat. The diet includes white ants, rat-snakes, owls, and munguses, as well as any stray village fowls that can be acquired surreptitiously.

These Gypsies of Ceylon are an interesting race, and I may be permitted a digression in order to furnish some details regarding them. I am not aware how long they have settled in Ceylon; they are permanent dwellers in the island, and are especially found in the northern half and the eastern districts, but also in the south and in the hill districts. In the Sinhalese districts they have developed a dialect which appears to be a curious compound of Telugu and Sinhalese. Thus fowls, which in Telugu are termed Kōllu, are known by them as Guglu, the Sinhalese Kukuḷu.

From a Gypsy with whom, by the aid of pecuniary intervention, I established friendly relations, cemented by my presenting him one day with a fine newly-caught cobra, I learnt that they enjoy general good health, notwithstanding the apparent hardships of their life. They attribute this to their constant changes of drinking-water and camping-sites, no camp being maintained in one place for more than seven days in the Sinhalese districts. In the Eastern Province, where the Gypsies possess very large herds of cattle, amounting sometimes to four or five hundred, they camp in one spot for a month if the grazing be sufficiently good.

They do not keep their cobras for more than a month. After being kept for that period, they not only become too tame to “dance,” but, what is far more important, their poison fangs grow afresh, and it would be dangerous to retain them. They are therefore always released at the end of that time, if not earlier. They are fed regularly upon fowls’ eggs and occasional rats.

My friend characterised as nonsense the idea of their handling and using cobras which have not had their fangs excised. The reader may remember Sir Bartle Frere’s note in Old Deccan Days, p. 329, regarding a boy who continued to handle with impunity poisonous snakes with unremoved fangs, until at last one killed him. The reader is also referred to Drummond Hay’s Western Barbary, 1844, pp. 105–108, in which an account is given of a snake-charmer who allowed a deadly snake to bite him. A fowl that it bit immediately afterwards died in a minute, while the man did not suffer from the bite. Hay saw the snake’s fangs. He mentions another instance at Tangier, in which a youth who was sceptical regarding the poison allowed the snake to bite him, and died from the effect of it.

I saw this Gypsy cut off the fangs of the cobra that I gave him. This was done with a common pen-knife which he kept for the purpose. The head being held sideways on a thick stick, so that the upper jaw lay on it, the fang was cut off at the base. The head was then turned, and the other fang removed. The man then passed his fore-finger along the jaw, and finding a slight roughness or projection, sliced off a little of the bone at each side. After this he released the cobra, which followed him and sprang at him furiously, time after time, and had its first lesson on the ease with which he evaded its strokes. When it became tired of attempting the impossible, he consigned it to his basket—another cobra ready for exhibition.

Some of these men are extraordinarily expert in making pretended captures of cobras which they apparently fascinate by their pipes, so as to attract them from their holes or hiding-places. They perform this feat so cleverly as to deceive many people, who insist that it is a real capture. I have twice got them to do it for me—in the Southern and the North-western Provinces—and although I watched them from a very short distance, I was unable to see whence the cobra was produced. On both occasions I examined the mouth of the cobra immediately after it was captured, and in both instances I found that the fangs had been removed. My Gypsy friend also assured me that it was a mere trick which only a few learn.

In each case, the man, who was dressed only in a cloth extending from the waist to the calf, after piping for some time at the edge of the bushes in which the snake might possibly be found, bent down suddenly, half entering the bush, and apparently endeavoured to seize a cobra which eluded him. After resuming the piping for a few seconds more, he bent down again at the same spot, and drew out a large cobra—one was nearly six feet long; it extended to the full length of his outstretched hands—holding it by the tail; then slipping his other hand rapidly along its body he grasped it tightly behind the jaws. Probably when first bending down he placed a cobra on the ground, afterwards seizing it by the tail as it was moving off.

In one case, a pretence at being bitten on the thumb on the way back from the bush was very effective. There were two bleeding punctures between the nail and the knuckle, at the right distance apart, and the expressions of pain no doubt were not altogether simulated.

The supposed poison was extracted by means of the usual spells and remedial agents—a charmed piece of creeper and a tiny ball of lime, the latter to check the progress of the poison along the arm, and the former to draw it down to the wounds; and two “snake stones”—nearly flat rectangular pieces of horn slightly hollowed on one side—which were placed on the wounds to extract the poison. These “stones” adhere by atmospheric pressure when wetted and pressed on the skin with the hollowed side downwards. I have been informed that the wounds are made by pressing on the thumb a thorny seed capsule which has two sharp spikes at a suitable distance apart.

One of these men afterwards proceeded to a large village about a mile away, and appeared to capture three more cobras in the same manner at houses where the residents denied that any were to be found; but in the end I was told by the villagers that he had only two cobras in his basket, this being the number that I saw in his possession before these last pretended captures were made.

These people are said to live well, better, indeed, than the majority of the villagers. The women are given to lavish personal adornment of an inexpensive kind, chiefly articles of brass and glass. On one lady, perhaps considered a beauty, I counted sixteen bead necklaces; twenty-four bangles, chiefly of common black glass, on the wrists; four silver armlets on the upper arms; and six rings on each finger and thumb, excepting only the middle finger of each hand.

The Kandian village is a self-contained unit, producing everything that the inhabitants require, with the exception of the few articles previously mentioned. It hears a faint echo of the news of the great outer world, without feeling that this has any connexion with its own life. It would listen with almost equal indifference to a statement that the sky was blue, or that England was at war with a European power, or that a new Governor had been appointed. When I asked a villager’s opinion regarding the transfer of a Government Agent who had ruled a Province for some years, he replied, “They say one Agent has gone and another Agent has come; that is all.”

The supervision of the work of maintaining in order the embankment of the village reservoir or “tank,” upon which the rice crops depend, as well as of the fencing of the rice field, is in the hands of the Gamarāla, now termed in other parts than the North-central Province, the Vidānē. The latter title is not recognised in any of the folk-tales, in which (with one exception) the Gamarāla is the only headman represented. His jurisdiction extends over two or three closely adjoining villages, or sometimes over one only.

Of a higher rank and different functions is the Āracci (pronounced Āratchy), who rules over five or six villages, and who is responsible for the maintenance of order, arrests and prosecutes offenders, and acts as general factotum for seeing that the orders received from superior headmen are promulgated and obeyed.

Of much more important authority are the Kōralē-Āracci and Kōrāla, the latter being the head of a considerable district, and above these again is the Raṭēmahatmayā, who is the supreme and very influential chief of a large part of a Province. By successive steps in promotion the members of influential or respectable families may rise to any of these offices. Though all but the highest one are unsalaried, they are competed for with a good deal of eagerness on account of the power which they confer, the possibility of further promotion, and also for the opportunities which they afford for receiving “presents,” which flow in a pleasing though invisible, but not therefore less remunerative, stream towards all but the Vidānēs and Gamarālas.

A few words may be added regarding the castes of the Kandian districts whose stories are given in this work, or who are referred to.

The Smiths come next to the cultivating caste, sometimes occupying separate hamlets, but often living in the same village as the superior caste, though divided from it by an impassable gulf, of which only the women preserve the outward sign. Those of the cultivating caste are alone permitted by social custom to dress in one outer robe in one piece; all of lower rank must wear a separate garment from the waist upward.

The Smiths are considered to be the highest class of their caste, called Nayidē, the artificers. There are said to be five classes of Nayidēs:—(1) Ācāri (pronounced Ātchāry), which includes the Smiths, Painters, and Sculptors; (2) Baḍahaela, Potters; (3) Mukkara or Karāwa, Fishers; (4) Madinna, Toddy-drawers (“toddy” is fresh palm-juice); (5) all “Moormen,” the descendants of Muhammadan settlers. All these, and the other low castes, except the Roḍiyās, cultivate rice and millet.

The Potters live by making all local forms of earthen pottery, and tiles and bricks if required. They build up large temporary kilns filled with alternate layers of pots and fire-wood, and are often intelligent men. Some of them are priests or conductors of services for the propitiation of planets and other evil astronomical bodies, as well as astrologers.

Next in the villages come the Washermen (Radawā, or Hēnayā, or Hēnawalayā), who possess great power as the arbiters regarding cases of the violation of social etiquette or custom. The disgrace of a refusal on their part to wash the clothes of objectionable persons is a form of social ostracism, and the offender soon has sad experience of the truth of the statement of the Mahā Bhārata that there is nothing (except fire) that is so purifying as gold (or its value). Some of the washermen are officiators at demon ceremonies. They are paid for their services as washermen in produce of various kinds, each family giving an annual subvention in paddy, etc., in return for its washing. One whom I knew could improvise four-line stanzas for an indefinite time, on the spur of the moment, each verse being composed while the audience chanted the refrain after the preceding one.

The Tom-tom Beaters (Berawayā) are a peculiar and interesting caste, who formerly combined their present duties with the weaving of cotton fabrics in frames. Although the arduous work of their profession—often a whole night’s hard dancing or tom-toming—leads at the time to a considerable consumption of “arrack,” the spirit distilled from palm juice, I believe that few of them take much liquor at other times.

In their own work many of them are very expert, the result of many years of training. On one occasion three tom-tom beaters requested permission to give me an exhibition of their skill. The leader first played a short simple tune, which was repeated in turn by the second and third players. They continued to play in this way, in turn, the tunes becoming increasingly difficult and rapid; whatever impromptu changes the leader introduced were all repeated in the same manner by the others. A number of villagers who were present, and listening critically, stated that it was a clever performance; it was also a noisy one.

The boys are taught to learn thoroughly, without using a tom-tom, the whole of the complicated airs that are played, repeating a series of sounds such as ting, tang, etc., which with varying emphasis represent the various notes to be played on the tom-tom. Not until they can give in this manner the whole of an air correctly, as regards notes, time, and emphasis, are they considered to know it. It is a tonic sol-fa system. To these professionals, every air has its name and meaning, often expressed in words which fit the notes; so that when a very few notes have been heard they can state what is being said. The reader will find one or two references to this in the folk-tales.

The Durayās are the carriers of baggage for the higher caste, and nearly always have tanks and fields of more than average quality. These have been granted to them in former times by the cultivating caste in return for their services, which could be claimed at any time if a man were about to proceed on a journey, and required himself or his luggage carrying. They still occupy a very low social position. Formerly the women were not allowed to wear above the waist more clothing than a strip of calico of about a hand’s breadth, across the breast; a coloured handkerchief now generally takes its place.

Much has been written about the Roḍiyās. They may be of partly different descent from the Sinhalese, but I do not know how far this matter has been investigated. Their hamlets are never called gama, “village,” but kuppāyama.3 I am not aware that any of them cultivate rice fields; they make ropes, and guard chenas and cattle for others. They also partly subsist by begging, and, it is said, by theft; some are gamblers also. The women usually wear no clothing above the waist. Their dialect differs from Sinhalese to some extent.

Nothing is known regarding the origin of the Kinnarās, the lowest caste of all, in whose case there are several anomalies that deserve investigation. They do not hunt as a profession. They have village tanks and rice fields, own cattle, and have good houses and neat villages. Their caste occupation is mat weaving in frames, with Niyanda fibre alone or combined with grass.

Some have their heads covered with a mass of thick, short, very curly hair, being the only people in the island possessing this distinctive characteristic. The features and the colour of the skin are of the ordinary type of the lower castes, and would not enable them to be recognised from others. Social rules forbid the growth of the hair beyond the neck. The dress of the women is restricted like that of the Durayās. Though they can never enter Buddhist temples, or the enclosures round them, they are all Buddhists. I was informed that their social ceremonies, as well as the religious ones, that is, those for propitiating evil spirits, whether demoniacal or planetary, closely resemble those of the other castes; and that they, as well as the Roḍiyās, have their own medical practitioners, astrologers, soothsayers, and kapuwās or officiators at demon ceremonies.

The men of the Cheṭṭi caste, or Heṭṭiyās, who are mentioned in some of the stories, are either Indians, or the descendants of Indian settlers. The Cheṭṭi caste is one of great importance, and many of its members are persons of the highest respectability and often of great wealth. The persons referred to in these tales are only some of the inferior members of the race, some of whom have little road-side shops or cultivate small fields and gardens.

Coming at last to the stories themselves, I may quote the words of the late Mr. W. Goonetilleke, the learned editor of The Orientalist, a journal published during the years 1884–1892, in which many folk-tales of Ceylon were given. Mr. Goonetilleke said (vol. i. p. 36), “What is really wanted … are the genuine stories of the Sinhalese [and other races also], those which are quite free from foreign influences, and have existed among the people from time immemorial. These can only be gathered from the inhabitants of villages and of the remoter parts of the island into which western civilization has not yet penetrated.” It is an adherence to this advice, and, I may say also, the complete absence of all attempts to give the tales a literary appearance that the originals do not possess, which constitute the special features of the present work.

Though all have been collected by myself, I have only myself written down a very limited number from dictation. All the rest have been written for me in Sinhalese by the narrators themselves, or by other villagers employed by me to collect them, who wrote them just as they were dictated. I preferred this latter method as being free from any disturbing foreign influence. Only three very short stories were written down by me in English; two of them were related in English by a Sinhalese gentleman, and the other, a variant of another story, was written immediately after a Buddhist monk had related it to me in Sinhalese.

The stories, as they now appear, are practically literal translations of the written Sinhalese originals, perhaps it may be thought in some respects too literal. My aim has been to present them as nearly as possible in the words in which they are related in the villages. The only liberty of any importance that I have taken has been the insertion of an occasional word or phrase where it was evidently omitted by the narrator, or was necessary in order to elucidate the meaning, or complete the sense.

It was unavoidable that many expressions, such as “afterwards,” “after that,” “at that time,” “then,” “again,” with which the village story-teller repeatedly begins his sentences, should be deleted. Many past participles which Sinhalese grammar requires have been transformed into the past tense, and most of the tense errors have been corrected, and in rare instances an unmanageable sentence has been cut in two. Such a word as “came,” when it expressed “came back,” is sometimes translated “returned”; and “said,” where it referred to an answer, is occasionally turned into “replied.” The word translated as “behead,” is merely “cut” in the original; but the context sometimes shows that the other meaning is to be understood.

In other respects, the reader may rely on having here the tales in their true village forms, and expressed in the same simple manner. I have even left one peculiar idiom that is often used, according to which a question is described as being asked, or a statement made, “at the hand” of a person; but I do not follow the village story-teller in using this form in conversations carried on with the lower animals. It is quite usual in Sinhalese to state that a question was asked by a person “at the hand” (lit. “from the hand,” the same word meaning also “fore-paw”) of a jackal, a deer, or a reptile. It will be seen that I have not attempted to translate the interjections into English.

It will be noticed that in the majority of the tales the characters are introduced in the present tense, which is then abandoned. The narrators sometimes relapse into it afterwards, but as a rule, unless action is being emphasised, I have adhered to the past tense in such instances, excepting in the stories told by the Village Vaeddās and the lowest castes, in which it seemed advisable to make as little change as possible.

Attention may be invited to the tales told by the lowest castes, probably the only stories of theirs that have ever been collected in Ceylon. From the Tom-tom Beaters a considerable number were obtained, some of which will appear in a later volume. The few tales that have been told by the Roḍiyās and Kinnarās are very simple; the chief fact is that they have any to tell.

It appeared to be likely that some of the Sindbad series of adventures might be found in Ceylon, but inquiries made in different districts, including part of the west coast, failed to reveal any tales belonging to the “Arabian Nights,” with the exception of one which probably was derived from a printed work, and orally transmitted from one of the towns. It is still possible that some may be found, as the Rukh is included in the Sinhalese tales, and the ogre called Rākshasa, who is a familiar personage in them, is correctly described in his folk-tale form, in one of the Sindbad voyages. In one story, which is not included in this work, there is the incident of the demon who was imprisoned in a bottle. The demon was Māra, Death personified, and his captor was a Vedarāla, or medical practitioner. The age of the tale is uncertain.

It is evident that many of the stories belong to distant times, but there is little to indicate their age more definitely. In one tale only, of this volume, the money mentioned is the kahawaṇuwa, in old Sinhalese kahawaṇa, the Pāli kahāpaṇa, a coin that ceased to be current by the tenth or eleventh century A.D., if not considerably earlier. Commonly, we find that the coinage is the masurama, plural masuran, which came into use in the eleventh century and was not coined after the thirteenth; but of course this is far from proving that the stories in which it occurs are not of much earlier date. There are no references to the Portuguese, who arrived in Ceylon at the beginning of the sixteenth century, or to later foreign residents; but a Tamil king is mentioned.

Although a large number of the stories relate the adventures of Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses, it will be observed that these personages sometimes behave like ordinary villagers. The Queen or Princess often cooks the rice for the family meal; Sir Bartle Frere has stated in the notes at the end of Old Deccan Days, p. 324, that this “would be nothing unusual in the house of a Rajah …. It is still the most natural precaution he can take against poison, to eat nothing but what has been prepared by his own wife or daughter, or under their eye in his own zenana, and there are few accomplishments on which an Indian Princess prides herself more than on her skill in cookery.”

It is not to be understood that such persons in these stories are supposed to be members of the family of the ruling monarch of Ceylon. These so-called “kings,” ruling over a small district or even a single city, are in reality some of the more important parumakas or feudal chiefs of the inscriptions of pre-Christian or early post-Christian years. This old title does not make its appearance in the stories, however.

Vaeddā rulers who are termed “kings” receive notice in three stories. In one which was given in Ancient Ceylon, p. 93, a Vaeddā youth was appointed the king of a Sinhalese district, which is stated to have prospered under his rule. In a tale in the present volume (No. 4) reference is made to a Vaeddā “king” who dwelt in a forest, and who arrested some travellers and imprisoned them in what is termed a house. In another story, which is not included here, there is an account of another Vaeddā “king” who lived in a forest, and who ordered his archers to kill a prince who had succeeded to the sovereignty of a neighbouring district on the death of his father, and was proceeding there in order to assume it. His offence lay in travelling through the forest without first obtaining the permission of the Vaeddā ruler. We also find references to Vaeddās who were accustomed to enter the towns; one of them laid a complaint before a Sinhalese “king” that a person had threatened to kill him in the forest. Probably in all these instances we have a true picture of the actual position, in early times, of some of the Vaeddās who had not yet adopted, or had abandoned, the village life. Their chiefs were practically independent in their wild forests.

The Rākshasas (in village spelling Rāsayā, Rāsī) who are introduced into many tales are ogres like those of Europe. The Yakās are always demons or evil spirits, of little intelligence, often having a human appearance but black in colour. They live chiefly upon human flesh, like the ogres, and possess like them some supernatural powers.

With regard to the animals mentioned, it is strange to find such prominence accorded to the Lion, which has never existed in a wild state in Ceylon. Its characteristics are correctly described, even including its ear-splitting roar.

The place taken by the Fox of European tales is filled by the Jackal, full of craft and stratagems, but sometimes over-reaching himself. The Hare and Turtle are represented as surpassing all the animals in cleverness, as in African and American Negro stories.

Of all the animals, the poor Leopard is relegated to the lowest place, both as regards want of intelligence and cowardice; and in only one adventure does he come off better than the Jackal. Even in that one his position is a despicable one, and he is completely cowed by a little Mouse-deer, the clever animal of Malay stories. In Ceylon the Leopard occupies the place taken in India by the foolish Tiger.

It is perhaps the chief merit of these stories, and certainly a feature which gives them a permanent value, that we have in them the only existing picture of the village life of ancient times, painted by the villagers themselves. From the histories we can learn practically nothing regarding the life of those of the ancient inhabitants of Ceylon who were not monks or connected with royalty, or the conditions under which they existed. It is here alone that the reader finds the daily experiences and the ideas and beliefs of the villagers gradually unfolded before him. In some of the stories we may see how the village life went on in the early centuries after Christ, and how little it has changed since that time. Others doubtless contain particulars which belong to a much later period, and in some there is an incongruous mixture of the old and the new, as when the slates of school children are introduced into what is evidently a tale of considerable age.

In the case of stories like these, composed for the amusement of villagers only, and related by villagers to other villagers, it might be expected that a considerable number of objectionable expressions would occur. So far from this being the fact, I am able to state with much satisfaction that in only three or four instances in this volume has it been thought desirable to slightly modify any part of the stories. It is to be remembered that it is not the function of these tales in general to inculcate ideas of morality or propriety, although kindness of heart is always represented as meeting with some adequate reward or success, and the wicked and cruel are punished in most cases. But successful trickery and clever stratagems are always quoted approvingly, and are favourite themes in the tales which are most evidently of entirely local origin. In this respect they do not differ from many Indian stories. Undaunted bravery, and also self-abnegation and deep affection, are characteristics which are displayed by many of the heroes and heroines; but untruthfulness is practised, and is never condemned.

The instances of polygamy are almost confined to the members of the royal families; there is one case of polyandry in which both the husbands were brothers. Infanticide was practised; in one tale a woman is recommended to kill her infant son because his horoscope was said to be unpropitious, and in another the parents abandoned their newly-born infant in order to carry home some fruit. In a story that is not included in this volume, a king is described as ordering all his female children to be killed immediately after birth. In another tale which is not given here, another king is stated to have sold his children during a time of scarcity.

These “kings,” however, are almost always depicted in an unfavourable light. They are represented as cowardly, selfish, licentious, unintelligent, and headstrong, ordering their sons or others to be executed for very slight faults, in sudden fits of anger. Murders are referred to as being commonly committed with impunity, and by no means of unusual occurrence. One man is said to have exchanged his wife for a bullock.

Yet although the story-tellers do not relate social events which were not within the range of the common experience or traditions of the people at the time when the tales were invented, it may be doubted if the great mass of the villagers differed much as regards crime and morality from those of the present day. The humdrum life of the ordinary villager did not appeal to the story-teller, who required more stirring incidents. It is not necessary to assume that such events were of everyday occurrence.

Considering the situation of Ceylon and the Indian origin of the people, it was certain that numerous tales would be similar to those of India, if not identical with them; but, with the exception of the story of the Creation, there are merely bare references to the Indian deities in about four of the tales in this volume.

The great majority of the folk-tales collected by me, and almost the whole of those given in this volume, come from districts of the far interior of the island, where story-books in Sinhalese, Tamil,4 or Arabic do not appear to have penetrated, and English is unknown by the villagers. Such tales are therefore nearly free from modern extraneous influences, and must be looked upon as often of genuine Sinhalese origin, even when they utilise the usual stock incidents of Indian folk-stories. A very few which resemble Jātaka stories may owe their dissemination to Buddhist teaching, and doubtless some also were orally transmitted by immigrants who were often of South Indian nationality—as their similarity to South Indian stories shows—or in some instances may have been settlers from the Ganges valley, or near it.

With regard to the latter, it is not probable that they consisted only of the early immigrants of pre-Christian times. King Niśśanka-Malla, who reigned from 1198 to 1207 A.D., has recorded in his inscriptions that he was a native of Sinhapura, then apparently the capital of the Kālinga kingdom, which extended far down the east coast of India, southward from the lower part of the Ganges valley; and he and his Chief Queen Subhadrā, a Kālinga Princess, must have brought into Ceylon many of their fellow-countrymen. The Queens of two other earlier Kings of Ceylon were also Princesses from Kālinga.

In the Galpota inscription at Polannaruwa (Prof. E. Müller’s Ancient Inscriptions in Ceylon, No. 148), he stated that “invited by the King [Parākrama-Bāhu I], who was his senior kinsman, to come and reign over his hereditary kingdom of Lakdiva [Ceylon], Vīra Niśśan̥ka-Malla landed with a great retinue in Lan̥kā” [Ceylon]. Further on in the same inscription he stated that “he sent to the country of Kālinga, and caused many Princesses of the Soma and Sūrya races to be brought hither.”

A connexion with the Kālinga kingdom seems to have been maintained from early times. In his inscriptions the same king claimed that the sovereignty of Ceylon belonged by right to the Kālinga dynasty. He described himself in his Dambulla inscription (Ancient Inscriptions, No. 143), as “the liege lord of Lakdiva by right of birth, deriving descent from the race of King Wijaya,” the first king of Ceylon, who according to the Sinhalese historical works was also born at a town called Sinhapura, which is stated to have been founded by his father. In the Galpota inscription we read of “Princes of the Kālinga race to whom the island of Lan̥kā has been peculiarly appropriate since the reign of Wijaya.”

Niśśanka-Malla was succeeded by his elder half-brother, Sāhasa-Malla, who remarked in his Polannaruwa inscription (Anc. Inscriptions, No. 156) that he also was born at Sinhapura. He, too, claimed that Wijaya was a member of their family. He said, “Because King Wijaya, having destroyed the Yakshas, established Lan̥kā like a field made by rooting out the stumps, it is a place much protected by Kings from this very family.”

Thus it will be seen that stories which are current in Central India, or the lower part of the Ganges Valley, or even the Panjāb, as well as tales of Indian animals such as the Lion, may have been brought direct to Ceylon by immigrants from Kālinga, or Magadha, or Bengal. Apparently it is in this manner that the evident connexion between the tales of Ceylon and Kashmīr is to be explained, the stories passing from Magadha or neighbouring districts, to Kashmīr on the one side, and from Magadha or Kālinga to Ceylon on the other.

To show the connexion of the Sinhalese stories with those of India, the outlines of some Indian parallels have been appended after each tale, as well as a very few from the interior of Western Africa; but no European variants, except in two instances, where they are inserted for the benefit of readers in Ceylon.

The stories have been arranged in two parts. In the first one are those told by members of the Cultivating Caste and Village Vaeddās; in the second one those related of or by members of lower castes. Those of each caste are given consecutively, the animal stories in each case coming last.

The general reader is advised to pay no attention to diacritical marks or dots which indicate separate letters in the Sinhalese alphabet, or to note only the long vowels. In all cases ae is to be pronounced as a diphthong, like a in “hat,” and not to rhyme with “me.” It is short where not marked long.

Enough material has been collected for a second volume, which it is hoped may be published next year.

As reference has been made to the subject in the foregoing extracts from Sinhalese inscriptions, a few lines may be added regarding the district from which Wijaya came, and his journey to Ceylon. The sentences that have been quoted prove that at the beginning of the thirteenth century A.D., it was claimed by two kings of Ceylon who came from Sinhapura in the Kālinga country that they were of the same family as Wijaya.

At a very early date the lands along the southern bank of the Ganges were divided into a series of states that once were independent. Proceeding eastward in the lower part of the valley, these were Magadha, occupying southern Bihār, with its capital Rājagaha (called also Rājagriha and Girivraja), afterwards abandoned in favour of Pāṭaliputta, near Patnā; Anga, separated from it by the river Campā (c pronounced as ch), on which was its capital Campā; Vanga or Banga, probably extending on both sides of the Ganges, and forming part of the modern Bengal; and Tāmalitta, or Tāmralipta, with a capital of the same name at Tamluk, near the southern mouth of the Ganges. Extending along the east coast was Kālinga; and between it and Magadha and Anga came the Puṇḍra and Ōḍra states, the latter occupying part of Orissa.

An old legend recorded that several of these states had a common origin. It was said that the wife of a Yādava king Vali or Bali had five sons, Anga, Vanga, Kālinga, Puṇḍra and Ōḍra or Sunga, each of whom founded a separate state. The names of the first four are grouped together several times in the Mahā Bhārata, as taking part with Kōśala and Magadha in the great legendary fight against the Pāṇḍavas, and on one day the troops from Magadha and Kālinga are said to have formed, with another people, one wing of the Kuru army.

Regarding Kālinga, Pliny gives the name of a race called the Maccocalingæ, who have been thought to belong to Orissa, and he wrote that the Modogalingæ occupied a very large island in the Ganges, that is, apparently part of the delta.

At a later date there were said to be three districts called collectively Trikālinga. Whether these were portions of the more southern part of the Kālinga country only, or included the land of the Modogalingæ, is not clear. If the Kālinga kingdom once included the territory of the Modogalingæ, the Tāmalitta district would be part of the Kālinga country at that time; but apparently Vanga was unconnected with Kālinga, the two being mentioned as separate kingdoms.

Divested of its impossibilities, the story of Wijaya’s ancestry which is contained in the Sinhalese histories is that a king of Vanga, who had married the daughter of a king of Kālinga, had a daughter who joined a caravan that was proceeding to Magadha. On the way, either a robber chief called Sīha, “Lion,” attacked and plundered the caravan, and carried off the Princess, or she joined a member of the caravan who had that name. They settled down in a wild tract of country termed Lāḷa, near the western border of the Vanga territory. There she had two children—the eldest being Sīha-Bāhu—with whom she afterwards returned to the Vanga capital, where her cousin Anura, who became King of Vanga, is said to have married her. Her son Sīha-Bāhu went back to his father’s district, Lāḷa, founded a town called Sīhapura or Sinhapura, and lived there as the ruler of the country around. Evidently it was a subordinate district belonging to Vanga; it is stated that the Vanga king granted it to him (Mah. i. p. 31). It is not mentioned in the Rāmāyana, the Mahā Bhārata, the Jātaka stories, or in the lists of countries given in the Purānas to which I have access; but the people of Lāṭa are referred to in a tenth century grant from Bhāgalpur, a town on territory that once formed the eastern part of Magadha (Indo-Aryans, by Dr. R. Mitra, ii. 273).

The first marriage or elopement of the Princess does not appear to have affected the status of her son Sīha-Bāhu. According to the histories, his eldest son, Wijaya, eventually married the daughter of the Pāṇḍiyan king of the southern Madura, and his second son, Sumitta, who succeeded him, married the daughter of the King of Madda or Madra, probably a small eastern state of that name, rather than the distant Madda in the Panjāb.

The Sinhalese histories record that Wijaya was exiled on account of his lawless behaviour, but the truth of this statement may be doubted, and it is a suspicious fact that this part of the story resembles folk-tales from Kashmīr.5 We are informed in those works not only that he was exiled, but that he was also forcibly deported by sea, together with seven hundred followers, and their wives and children, that is, two or three thousand persons.

All that is actually credible in this incident is that for a reason which is unknown, perhaps a love of adventure, or possibly at the solicitation of traders who had settled there, he proceeded by sea to Ceylon, where he became the first Sinhalese king. Most probably he accompanied a party of Magadhese or other merchants.

It is recorded that from an early period vessels sailed across the Bay of Bengal from various ports on the Ganges. In the Jātaka stories some are mentioned as passing down the Ganges from Benares with traders, and being far out at sea for several days, and even going to Suvaṇṇa Bhūmi (Burma) and back. Tāmalitta was a famous port in early times and for many centuries; and there is a definite and credible statement that vessels sailed direct from it to Ceylon in the reign of Aśōka, in the third century B.C. There is no reason to suppose that similar voyages were not undertaken long prior to the period during which the Jātakas were being composed. If they are not mentioned in earlier Buddhist works, this may have been merely owing to the fact that their authors felt no interest in the trade of the countries near the mouth of the Ganges.

In the presence of such evidence of the sea-going capabilities of the vessels which sailed from the ports on the Ganges, the statement of the Sinhalese histories that Wijaya embarked at Baroach, on the western coast, whether accompanied by a large party of followers and numerous women and children or not, cannot be credited. It is impossible to believe that any travellers who wished to proceed to Ceylon in the fifth century B.C., from a district lying between Anga and Vanga, and probably within a few miles of a port from which vessels sailed, would not step on board a ship at their own doors, so to speak, rather than undertake an arduous journey across several other countries, in order to embark at a port more than eight hundred miles away in a direct line, which when reached was still no nearer their destination.

In any case, there is no likelihood that a large number of women and children were taken, unless we are prepared to accept the improbable hypothesis that a fleet of ships was expressly chartered for the voyage. In the case of the small vessels which ventured on such long trading expeditions, every foot of storage space would be required for the goods that were carried, and for the accommodation of the merchants who went to exchange these for the products of the ports at which they called. It is most unlikely that many other passengers were ever carried so far in Indian ships in early times, notwithstanding fanciful tales of imaginary ships with hundreds on board, in the Jātaka stories.

Niśśanka-Malla and his brother do not claim that the Sinhapura at which they were born was the city founded by Wijaya’s father. It is possible, however, that they could trace some distant connexion with the Lāḷa family, and it has been noted already that Wijaya’s great-great-grandfather was said to be a king of Kālinga.

Note.

With regard to the exorcism of the flies, I give a relation of the similar treatment of locusts in Abyssinia, by Father Francis Alvarez, who visited that country in 1520, in the suite of a Portuguese Ambassador. The account is appended in Pory’s translation of the History of Africa, by Leo Africanus, 1600, p. 352. An appeal having been made to Alvarez to drive away an enormous flight of locusts, “which to our iudgement couered fower and twentie miles of lande,” the following is his own record of the proceedings:—

“And so I went to the Ambassadour, and told him, that it would be very good to goe on procession, beseeching God that hee woulde deliuer the countrie, who peraduenture in his great mercie might heare vs. This liked the Ambassadour very well: and the day following we gathered togither the people of the land, with all the priests, and taking the consecrated stone, and the crosse, according to their custome, all we Portugals sung the Letanie, and appointed those of the land, that they should lift vp their voices aloud as we did, saying in their language Zio marina Christos, which is as much to say, as Lord God haue mercy vpon vs: and with this manner of inuocation we went ouer a peece of grounde, where there were fieldes of wheate, for the space of a mile, euen to a little hill: and heere I caused many of these locustes to be taken, pronouncing ouer them a certaine coniuration, which I had about me in writing, hauing made it that night, requesting, admonishing, and excommunicating them, enioining them within the space of three howers to depart towards the sea, or the lande of the Moores, or the desert mountaines, and to let the Christians alone: and they not performing this, I summoned and charged the birdes of heauen, the beasts of the earth, and all sorts of tempests, to scatter, destroy, and eate vp their bodies: and to this effect I tooke a quantitie of locusts, making this admonition to them present, in the behalfe likewise of them absent,6 and so giuing them libertie, I suffered them to depart. It pleased God to heare us sinners, for in our returne home, they came so thicke vpon our backes, as it seemed that they woulde haue broken our heads, or shoulders, so hard they strooke against vs, as if we had beene beaten with stones and cudgels, and in this sort they went towards the sea: The men, women, and children remaining at home, were gotten vpon the tops, or tarrasses of their houses, giuing God thankes that the locusts were going away, some afore, and others followed. In the meane while towardes the sea, there arose a great cloude with thunder, which met them full in the teeth, and continued for the space of three howers with much raine, and tempest, that filled all the riuers, and when the raine ceased, it was a fearefull thing to behold the dead Locustes, which were more then two yardes [marginal note, or fathomes] in height vpon the bankes of the riuers, and in some riuers there were mightie heapes of them, so that the morning following there was not one of them found aliue vpon the earth.”

1 See note at the end of the Introduction. ↑

2 Cf. Jātaka, No. 206 (vol. ii, p. 106). ↑

3 From the Tamil kuppam, a village of small houses, perhaps + ayam, ground. ↑

4 The Tamil stories of Mariyada Rāman, or some of them, are known in one district. Arabic is unknown. ↑

5 Folk-Tales of Kashmir, Knowles, 2nd ed., pp. 258 and 331. ↑

6 Āgata anāgata, as the early cave inscriptions say. ↑

Part I

STORIES TOLD BY THE CULTIVATING CASTE AND VAEDDĀS.

No. 1

The Making of the Great Earth

From the earliest time, the whole of this world, being filled up and overflowed by a great rain, and being completely destroyed, was in darkness. There were neither men, nor living beings, nor anything whatever.

During the time while it was in this state, Great Vishnu thought, “In what manner, having lowered the water, should the earth be established?” Having thought this, Great Vishnu went to the God Saman. Having gone there, he asked at the hand of the God Saman, “What is the way to establish this earth?”

The God Saman replied, “There is no one among us [gods] who can establish this earth.”

Thereupon the God Great Vishnu asked, “Then who is able to do it?”

The God Saman said, “You must go to the residence of Rāhu; he can do it.”

After that, the God Great Vishnu went to the abode of Rāhu, and spoke to Rāhu, the Asura Chief1: “Rāhu, Asura Chief, our residence has been swallowed up by water; on account of that can even you make us an earth?”

Then Rāhu, the Asura Chief, said, “Countless beings having gone to the world of Brahmā (i.e., having been destroyed in the water), how can I descend into the water which is there?”

The God Great Vishnu asked, “In what way, then, can you make the earth?”

Rāhu told him to put a lotus seed into the water.

After that, the God Great Vishnu, having returned to this world, placed a lotus seed in the water. Having placed it there, in seven days the lotus seed sprouted.

Then the God Vishnu again went to the dwelling-place of Rāhu. Having gone there, he spoke to Rāhu, the Asura Chief: “The lotus plant has now sprouted.”

Afterwards Rāhu arose, and came with the God Vishnu to this world. Having made ready to descend into the water, he asked Great Vishnu, “What thing am I to bring up from the bottom of the water?”

Then Great Vishnu said, “I do not want any [special] thing; bring a handful of sand.”

Rāhu, having said “Hā” (Yes), descending along that lotus stalk proceeded until he met with the earth. Having descended to the earth in seven days, taking a handful of sand he returned to the surface again in seven days more. Having come there, he gave the handful of sand into the hand of the God Great Vishnu.

After it was given, taking it and squeezing it in his hand, the God Great Vishnu placed it on the water. Having placed it there the God Great Vishnu made the resolution: “This water having dried up, may the Earth be created.”

Afterwards, that small quantity of sand not going to the bottom, but turning and turning round on the surface of the water, the water began to diminish. Thus, in that manner, in three months and three-quarters of the moon, the water having diminished, the earth was made.

After it was formed, this world was there in darkness for a long time. [After the light had appeared], the God Great Vishnu thought: “We must make men.”

Having gone to the God Saman he said, “What is the use of being the owner of this world when it is in this state? We must make men.”

The God Saman said, “Let us two make them.”

Then those two spoke to each other: “Let us first of all make a Brāhmaṇa.”

Saying that, they made a Brāhmaṇa from that earth, and having given breath to the Brāhmaṇa those two told him to arise. Then the Brāhmaṇa arose by the power of those Gods; and having arisen, that Brāhmaṇa conversed with those Gods.

Then the God Vishnu said, “Brāhmaṇa, for thy assistance thou art to make for thyself a woman.”

Afterwards the Brāhmaṇa by the power of those very Gods made a woman, and from that time men began to increase in number up to to-day.

North-western Province.

This is evidently a story of the last creation. In Hinduism there is a series of four ages termed Yugas, each ended by a destruction of the world by fire, which is quenched by cataclysmal rainfall. These are the Krita, Trēta, Dwāpara, and Kali Yugas, their periods being respectively 4,000, 3,000, 2,000, and 1,000 divine years. There are also intermediate periods equal to one-tenth of each of the adjoining Yugas. A divine year being 360 times as long as a human year, the whole series, called a Maha Yuga, amounts to about 4,320,000 years (Vishnu Purāna, Wilson, p. 24). When a series is ended the order is reversed, that is, the Kali Yuga, which is the present one, is followed by the Dwāpara.

The Vishnu Purāna, p. 12, thus describes the state of things before the original creation: “There was neither day nor night, nor sky nor earth, nor darkness nor light, nor any other thing, save only One”—“the Universal Soul,” the All-God, Vishnu in the form of Brahmā.

His action is thus summarised: “Affecting then the quality of activity Hari [Vishnu], the Lord of all, himself becoming Brahmā, engaged in the creation of the universe.”

At the end of the Yuga, “the same mighty deity, Janārddana, invested with the quality of darkness, assumes the awful form of Rudra, and swallows up the universe. Having thus devoured all things, and converted the world into one vast ocean, the Supreme reposes on his mighty serpent couch amidst the deep: he awakes after a season, and again, as Brahmā, becomes the author of creation (V.P., p. 19).

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 583, there were two Dānavas, a form of Asura, “invincible even by gods,” who impeded Prajāpati in his work of creation. The only way which the Creator could hit upon to destroy them was to create two lovely maidens, one black and one white. Each of the Dānavas wished to carry off both, so they fought over them and killed each other.

It is only in the Sinhalese story that we find an Asura assisting in the creation. Rāhu is usually known as a dark planetary sign, a dragon’s head, which endeavours to swallow the sun and moon, and thus causes eclipses, at which time, only, it is seen. In the account of the great Churning of the Ocean, it is evident that he was supposed originally to have, or to be able to assume, a figure indistinguishable from those of the Gods.

The story of the application of Vishnu for Rāhu’s assistance is based on the Indian notion that the Asuras were of more ancient date than the Gods. The Mahā Bhārata states that they were the elder brothers of the Gods, and were more powerful than the Gods, who were unable to conquer them in their strongholds under the sea. The God Saman is Indra, the elder brother of Vishnu.

According to the Mahā Bhārata, Vishnu assuming the form of a boar raised the earth to the surface of the waters (which covered it to the depth of one hundred yōjanas), on his tusk, without the aid of any other deity.

The following accounts of the state of things in very early times are borrowed from The Orientalist, vol. iii., pp. 79 and 78, to which they were contributed by Mr. D. A. Jayawardana.

“In the primitive good old days the sky was not so far off from the earth as at present. The sun and moon in their course through the heavens sometimes came in close contact with the house-tops. The stars were stationed so close to the earth that they served as lamps to the houses.

“Once upon a time, there was a servant-maid who was repeatedly disturbed by the passing clouds when she was sweeping the compound [the enclosure round the house], and this was to her a real nuisance. One cloudy morning, when this naughty girl was sweeping the compound as usual, the clouds came frequently in contact with the broom-stick and interfered with her work.

“Losing all patience she gave a smart blow to the firmament with the broom-stick, saying, ‘Get away from hence.’ The sky, as a matter of course, was quite ashamed at the affront2 thus offered to it by a servant-girl, and flew away far, far out of human reach, in order to avoid a similar catastrophe again.”

The second account is as follows: “Till a long period after the creation, man did not know the use of most of the vegetables now used by him for food. His food at first consisted of some substance like boiled milk, which then grew spontaneously upon the earth. This substance since disappeared, and rice took its place, and grew abundantly without the husk.

“The Jak fruit (Artocarpus integrifolia), one of the principal articles of food of the Sinhalese, was not even touched, as it was thought to be poisonous. The God Śakra [Indra] bethought himself of teaching mankind that Jak was not a deadly fruit, but an article of wholesome food.”

The story goes on to relate that, assuming the form of an old man, he got a woman to boil some Jak seeds for him, with injunctions not to eat them or she would die; but the smell being appetizing she first tasted one, and then ate a quantity.

1 Asurendrayā. ↑

2 It is one of the greatest possible insults in the East to strike a person with a broom. Even demons are supposed to be afraid of being struck by it, and thus it is a powerful demon-scarer. ↑

No. 2

The Sun, the Moon, and Great Paddy

In a certain country there are a woman and a man, it is said. There are also the children of those two persons, the elder brother and younger brother and elder sister. Well then, while these three persons were there, the man having died those children provided subsistence for the mother of the three.

One day the three persons went to join a party of friends in assisting a neighbour in his work.1 That mother stayed at home. For that woman there was not a thing to eat. Should those persons bring food, she eats; if not, not.

When the three persons were eating the food provided for the working party, the elder sister and the elder brother having eaten silently, without even a [thought of the] matter of their mother, came away home. The younger brother thought, “Anē! We three persons having eaten here, on our going how about food for our mother? I must take some.” Placing a similar quantity of cooked rice and a little vegetable curry under the corner of his finger nail, the three came back.

Then the mother asked at the hand of the elder sister, “Where, daughter, is cooked rice and vegetable curry for me?” She said, “I have not brought any. Having indeed eaten I came [empty-handed].”

Then the mother said to the daughter, “Thou wilt be cooked in hell itself.”

Having called the elder son she asked, “Where, son, is the cooked rice and vegetable curry for me?”

The son said, “Mother, I have not brought it. Having indeed eaten, I came [empty-handed].”

Then the mother said to the son, “Be off, very speedily.”

Having called the young younger brother she asked, “Where, son, is cooked rice and vegetable curry for me?”

Then that son said, “Mother, hold a pot.” After that, the mother brought it and held it. The son struck down his finger nail in it. Then the pot was filled and overflowed.

Afterwards the mother, having eaten the rice and curry, gave authority to those three persons, to the elder brother, to the younger brother, and to the sister older than both of them.

Firstly, having called the elder sister she said, “Thou shalt be cooked even in hell.” That elder sister herself now having become Great Paddy,2 while in hell is cooked in mud.

She told the eldest son to go speedily. That elder brother himself having become the Sun, goes very speedily. For the Sun, in very truth (aettēma), there is no rest. In the little time in which the eyelids fall, the Sun goes seven gawwas,3 they say. At the time when the Great Paddy is ripening, the Sun goes across (harahin).4 Because it is older than the Sun,5 the Great Paddy represents the elder sister.

Having called the younger son she said, “My son, go you in the very wind (pawanēma)6.” That one himself having become the Moon, now goes in the wind. For the Moon in very truth there is not a difficulty, by the authority given by the Mother.

North-western Province.

1 A Kayiya, usually to provide help in clearing jungle, or ploughing, or reaping, for which no pay is given, but the party are fed liberally. ↑

2 Mā Vī, the name of the largest variety of rice. ↑

3 Twenty-eight miles. According to Indian reckoning of about six winks to a second, as given in the Mahā Bhārata, this would be an orbit of about 14,500,000 miles, with a diameter of 4,620,000 miles. ↑

4 That is, the sun rises in the latitude of the district where the story was related. This would be within a day or two of February 22. ↑

5 I cannot explain this remark. ↑

6 This is, where refreshing breezes blow. ↑

No. 3

The Story of Senasurā1

In a certain country a man having been stricken by the evil influence (apalē) of Senasurā, any cultivation work or anything whatever which the man performs does not go on properly.

The man having become very poor said, “I cannot stay in this country; I must go to another country”; and having gone away from that country he sat down at a travellers’ shed. During the time while he was there a friend of the man’s came there. That man, sitting down in the travellers’ shed, said, “Friend, where are you going?”

Then the man said, “What is it, friend? Well then, according to my reckoning there is no means of subsistence for me. I am going away to some country or other, to look if I shall obtain a livelihood.” [He told him how everything that he did failed, owing to the ill-will of Senasurā.]

Then the friend said, “Friend, don’t you go in that way; I will tell you a good stratagem. Having gone back to your village, when dry weather sets in cut chenas; when rain falls do rice field work.”

The man having come back again to his village, began to cut a chena. At the time when he was cutting the chena rain rained. Then, having dropped the chena cutting, he went to plough the rice field. Then dry weather again began to set in. Again having gone he chops the chena. Then rain rained. Again having gone he ploughs the rice field. In that manner he did the chena and rice field works, both of them. Having done the work, the [crops in the] chena and the rice field, both of them, ripened.

After that, Senasurā said at the hand of the man, “What of their ripening! I will not give more than an amuna (5·7 bushels) from a stack. Let it be so settled (aswanu).”

Afterwards, having cut the rice crop, the man began to make the stacks separately of two or three sheaves apiece. Then having trampled out [the corn in] the stacks [by means of buffaloes] at the rate of the amuna from the stack—should there be one sheaf in it, an amuna; should there be two sheaves, an amuna—in that manner having trampled out [the corn in] the stacks he filled up two corn stores. Having cut the millet in the chena he filled up two corn stores of millet.

In that very country there is an astrologer (naekatrāla). Having gone to him, he informed the astrologer of the evil influence that there was from Senasurā [and how he had outwitted him]. Then the astrologer said, “Until the time when you die the evil influence of Senasurā over you will not be laid aside.”

The man said, “Can you tell me the place where Senasurā is [and what I must say to him]?”

The astrologer replied, “Senasurā having taken a man’s disguise and come to your house, will talk with you. Then say, ‘The evil influence of Senasurā has been over me. I did a good trick for it. I worked in both a chena and a rice field. I got the things into the corn stores. While staying here eating them I can do cultivation again [in the same way].’”

Afterwards this man came home. While he was there, on the day foretold by the astrologer Senasurā came. The man having given him sitting accommodation asked, “Where are you going?”

Then Senasurā said, “It is I indeed whom they call Senasurā, the Divine King. Because of it tell me any matter you require.”

So the man said, “What is the matter I require? I have become very poor, having been stricken by the evil influence of Senasurā. Now then, I want an assistance from you for that.”

Afterwards Senasurā, the Divine King, having given the man a book said, “Without showing this book to anybody, place it in your house. Remain here, and make obeisance [to me] three times a day, having looked and looked into [the instructions in] the book. From any journey on which you may go, from any work you may do, you will obtain victory [that is, success].”

Having said this, Senasurā, the Divine King, went away. After that, having remained there in the very manner told by Senasurā, the man became a person of much substance.

North-western Province.

In Indian Folk-Tales (Gordon), p. 61, a Jackal is represented as outwitting the great deity Śiva or Mahādeo, by telling him that he was Sahadeo, the father of Mahādeo. See the notes at the end of Nos. 39 and 75.

1 The deity of the planet Saturn. ↑

No. 4

The Glass Princess

In a certain country there are seven Princes, the sons of a King. When the seven persons had grown up, messengers were sent to find the places where there were seven Princesses to be taken in marriage by them. They obtained intelligence that there was a kingdom where they were to be met with.

After that, the seven portraits of the seven Princes having been painted, two or three ministers were summoned, and sent with the instructions, “Go to that kingdom, and observe if the seven Princesses are there. If they are there, take the portraits of the seven Princesses and come back with them.”

The ministers having gone there and looked, found that seven Princesses were there. So they went to the King, the father of the Princesses. After they had come, the King having given quarters to the ministers, and having given them food and drink, asked, “Where are you going?” Then the ministers said, “On account of news that you have seven Princesses, as there are seven Princes of the King of our country we have come, bringing the portraits of the seven Princes to show you, in order to marry the Princesses to those seven.” The King and the Princesses having looked at the portraits were pleased with them.

Afterwards, a suitable occasion for the marriage having been appointed, the portraits of the Princesses were painted, and given into the hands of the ministers, and they were sent away with them.

The party having brought them, showed them to the King and the seven Princes. The King and the seven Princes being pleased with those persons after they had shown the portraits, the King of that city, on the very day appointed as the date for setting out for the marriage, having decorated an elephant for the King and Queen, and both of them having mounted on it, and having decorated seven other elephants for the seven Princes, the party made ready to go.

Then the youngest Prince of all, having placed his sword on the back of the elephant, and made obeisance to his father, said, “I will not go. Should the Princess come after being married to the sword, let her come. If not, let her simply stop there.” Having said this he did not go; he sent only the elephant, and the elephant and all the other persons went.

Having gone there the six Princes were married to the six Princesses. Then the King whose Princesses they were, asked, “Is there not a Prince for the youngest Princess?”

When he asked this, the King whose son was the Prince replied, “There is my youngest Prince. He has not come. If she will come after being married to the sword placed on the back of this elephant, he said she is to come; if not, he said that she is to remain here.”

The King whose Princess she was, was not satisfied with that. What of that? The youngest Princess was contented, and said, “Even a deaf man or a lame man would be good enough for me. Therefore I must be married.” So having been married to the sword she came away with the others.

The Prince who did not go, but stayed at home, knew that there was a pool on the way, and that there was also a Cobra which had charge of that pool. The Prince was well aware that if the people who went to the marriage came there, and being thirsty drank the water, that Cobra would ask for a human offering. How was that? A deity came to the Prince in a dream and told him. Having learnt this, the Prince went, and at the time when they were coming hid himself near the pool, and remained there.

Then all the party having come there drank the water. Having drunk it, when they were setting out to come away, a large Cobra which had been in a rock cave near by, came out, and said, “Because you drank water from my pool one person must remain here as an offering to me. If not, I shall not permit even one of you to go.”

After that, the youngest Prince who had gone near and hidden himself came forward, and saying, “I will stay as the human offering; go you away,” he started off all that marriage party, and sent them to their village. He said to the Princess who had come after being married to his sword, “Until whatever time it may be when I return, go and stay at the palace of mine which is there. There are servants at it. Set the party of them to work, and eat and drink in great contentment just as though I were there.” After he had said this, the party returned to the city, and the youngest Prince went with the Cobra to the cave.

After they had gone there, the Cobra said to the Prince, “There is an ulcer on my forehead. You may go after curing the ulcer. Because of your curing it I shall not require a human offering.”

The Prince said, “It is good,” and continuing to eat the things for which it provided the expenses, stayed there. Twice a day he washed and washed the ulcer, while applying medicine to it, but it did not heal.

Afterwards the Cobra said, “There is a certain daughter of the King of a city, called the Glass Princess. The Princess takes any disguise she likes and goes through the sky, supported by her power of flying through the air. The Princess knows a medicine by which, if it should be applied by her own hand, my ulcer will become healed; otherwise it will not heal, and there will be no going to your village for you.”

The Prince replied, “It is good. I will go and bring the Glass Princess.”

Having said this, he set off to go to the city where the Glass Princess lived. Having hurried along the road which led in that direction, there was a river to which he went. When he looked up the river he saw some rats coming floating in the water. Then what does he do? He seizes all those few rats, and goes and places them on the bank.

After he had put them there the rats said, “Anē! O Lord, if Your Majesty should require any assistance, be pleased to think of us; then we will come and stay with you, and assist you.” The Prince said, “It is good,” and went to the city in which the Glass Princess dwelt.

Having come there, being without a place to stay at he went to the spot where a widow-mother was stopping, and said, “Anē! Mother, give me a mat to sleep on.”

The widow-mother said, “It is good, son. Remain here. I am alone here, therefore it will be good for me also.”

Then the Prince said, “If so, mother, cook and give me a little rice. Having obtained some money to-morrow, I will bring it and give you it.” The old woman having heard his words, cooked and gave him a little rice.

When she had given it and he had eaten, the Prince asked that old woman, “Mother, what are the new things that are happening at this city?”

The old woman replied, “What! Son, the new matters at this city are like those of other cities indeed; but there is one new affair at this city. If so, what is it? The daughter, called the Glass Princess, of the King of this city remains an [unwedded] Princess. The Princess, creating any disguise she wants, can go through the sky sustained by her power of flight through the air. Through the beauty of her figure she is a very celebrated person. Because of that, many royal Princes have come to ask to marry the Princess. Having come, they are asked, ‘What have you come for?’ When they have said, ‘We have come to take this Princess in marriage,’ the King puts on the hearth a very great cauldron of water, and having made it boil tells them to bathe in it without making the water lukewarm. There is a large iron tree in the open space in front of the palace. Having bathed in the water, he tells them to saw the iron tree in two. If they do not bathe in the water and cut it in two, he does not permit the Princes to go away; he beheads them there and then, and casts them out.”

The Prince asked the old woman, “Mother, can no one go to the place where the Glass Princess is staying?”

The old woman said, “Anē! Son, even a bird which passes along in the air above cannot go to the place where the Glass Princess is.”

Then the Prince asked, “Mother, why do they say that the Princess is the Glass Princess?”

The old woman said, “O son, they call her the Glass Princess. The bed on which the Princess sleeps is a bed of glass throughout. Glass is fixed all round the bed in such a manner that even the wind cannot get to her.1 Because of that, they say that she is the Glass Princess.”

The Prince asked, “Mother, at what time does the Princess eat rice at night?”

The old woman said, “O son, at night water for bathing, and cooked rice, having gone there for the Princess, they are placed in the upper story where the Princess sleeps alone. When the Princess has been sleeping at night, at about eight she awakes, and after bathing in the water eats rice. Before that she does not get up.”

Then the Prince, after listening to all these words, asked for a mat, and went off to sleep at the travellers’ shed which was in front of the old woman’s house. Having gone there, while he was lying down he thought, “Anē! O Gods, in any case you must grant me an opportunity of going to the place where that Princess is.” Then while he was thinking, “Anē! Will even those rats that I took up that day out of the river and placed on the bank, become of assistance to me in this matter?” he fell asleep.

After that, those rats, collecting thousands of rats besides, came there before the Prince awoke, and having come near the Prince while he was sleeping, waited until he awoke. When the Prince awoke and looked about, he saw that rats, thousands in number, had come and were there.

The rats asked the Prince: “O Lord, what assistance does Your Majesty want us to give?”

The Prince said, “I want you to excavate a tunnel, of a size so that a man can go along it erect, to the upper story of the house in which the Glass Princess is staying, and to hand it over without completing it, leaving a very little unfinished. It was on account of this that I thought of you.” Then the rats went, and having dug it out that night, finished it and handed it over, and went away.

The Prince having been in the travellers’ shed until it became light, took the mat and went to the widow-mother. He gave her one masurama and said, “Here, mother, this is given for the articles I obtained. Bring things for you and me, and in order that I may go and get something to-day also, quickly cook and give me a little rice.” The old woman speedily cooked and gave it. The Prince having eaten it, during the whole day walked round about the city.

At night he went along the tunnel to the upper story where the Princess was. Having gone there, when he thought of looking in the direction of the Princess he could not through diffidence, it is said. The Princess was asleep on the glass bed; a lamp shone brightly.

After that, the Prince having rubbed soap in the water which was ready for the Glass Princess, and washed in it, and eaten half the rice that was set on the table, and having eaten a mouthful of betel that was in the betel box, left the room without speaking, and went away after closing the opening through which he had come.

The Princess arose at about eight, and having gone to bathe in the water, when she looked at it saw that soap had been rubbed in the water, and some one had washed in it. Then she went to the table on which was the rice, and when she looked half the rice had been eaten. So the Princess having returned without eating the rice, lay down and thought, “A much cleverer person than I, indeed, has done this work. Except a deity, no man can come to the place where I am staying. I shall seize that thief to-morrow.” Having thought that, she went to sleep.

The Prince having come away, and having been asleep in the travellers’ shed, in the day-time went to the old woman and ate. Then having returned to the tunnel and slept there, he went that night also, and washed in the water and ate, and came away. That night, also, the Princess being asleep was unable to seize him.

The Prince came back, and having slept that night, also, at the travellers’ shed, in the day time asked the old woman for rice and ate it. Then he returned to the tunnel, and after sleeping in it, at about twelve went and washed in the water, and ate the rice. After eating betel he came away. The Princess being asleep on that night also, was unable to seize him.

After that, what does the Princess do? At night, pricking her finger with a needle, and rubbing lime-juice in the place, she remained awake blowing it [on account of the smarting]. That night, also, the Prince went. The Princess having seen the Prince enter, took a sword in her hand, after awaking as though she had been asleep. Having seen that the figure of the Prince was beautiful, and being pleased with it, she closed her eyelids, pretending to be asleep.

The Prince knew very well that the Princess was awake. Now, as on other nights, he went looking on the ground, and having soaped himself, washed himself in the water. Then having come to the table, he ate the rice. While he was eating it, the Princess, taking the sword, arose, and having come towards him, asked, “Who are you?”

The Prince asked, “Who are you?”

The Princess said, “I am she whom they call the Glass Princess.”

Then the Prince also said, “I am he whom they call the youngest Prince of the King of such and such a city.”

After that, the Prince and Princess ate the food, and having talked much, the Princess asked, “For what purpose have you come?”

The Prince replied, “I have not come for anything else but to take you away.”

The Princess said, “Our hiding and going off would not be proper. Here, put away this jewelled ring and lock of hair. To-morrow morning, having gone to our father the King, say, ‘I have come to marry your Princess.’

“Then saying, ‘It is good,’ he will boil a cauldron of water and give you it, and tell you to bathe in it. And he will show you an iron tree, and tell you to saw it. When he has given you the water, put this jewelled ring in the water and bathe; it will be like cold water. When he has shown you the iron tree, pull this lock of hair across it; then it will saw it in two. After that, we two having been married, let us go to your city.”

Then taking the ring and the lock of hair, the Prince went back to the travellers’ shed.

Next day, the Prince in the very manner the Princess told him, came and spoke to the King. The King said, “It is good,” and gave him those two tasks. The Prince performed both the tasks.

After that, the King, being pleased, publicly notified the celebration of their marriage, and said, “If you wish to live here, stay here; if you wish to go, summon the Princess [to accompany you] and go.” Afterwards, having performed the marriage ceremony, he called the Princess, and went to the place where that Cobra was staying.

There she applied the medicine to the Cobra’s ulcer, and it healed. The Cobra, being pleased, gave the two persons a hidden treasure consisting of gold, silver, pearls, and gems. After that, they went to the Prince’s city.

Thus, by bringing this Princess the Prince had two Princesses. The King, the Prince’s father, was pleased because the Prince who went as the offering and the Princess had got married, and had returned. Having eaten the marriage feast they remained there.

When those six elder brothers looked they saw that their Princesses were not so beautiful as the Glass Princess. Because of it, the six persons spoke together about killing the youngest Prince and taking the Glass Princess; and they tried to kill the Prince. The Glass Princess, knowing of it, told that Prince, and the two Princesses and the Prince set off to go to another King.

While they were going in the midst of a forest, the Vaeddā King who dwelt in that forest saw this Glass Princess. In order to take possession of the Princess, he seized the three persons, and having put them in a house, prepared to kill the Prince.

So the Glass Princess, knowing this, became a mare, and placing the Prince on her back, and telling the other Princess to hang by her tail, went through the sky, and descended near another city. Having gone to the city and taken labourers, they engaged in rice cultivation. When they had been there a little while the King of the city died.

After his death they decorated the royal tusk elephant, and set off with it in search of a new King. While they were going along taking it through the streets, the elephant went and knelt near this Prince. Then all the men having made obeisance, and caused the Prince to bathe, placing the Prince and the two Queens on the back of the elephant, went and stopped at the palace, and he became King.

When he had been ruling a little time, there was no rain at the city of the King the Prince’s father, and that country became abandoned. Those six Princes and their six Queens, and his father the King, and his mother, all these persons, being reduced to poverty, came to an almshouse which this King had established, bringing firewood to sell.

There this King having seen them, recognising them, came back after summoning his father the King, and his mother, to the palace. He told them, “Because those six elder brothers and their six Queens tried to kill me in order that my elder brothers might seize and carry off the Glass Princess, I came away from the city, and was seized by a Vaeddā King, but I escaped and came here.” Then saying, “There is the place where I was cultivating rice. Go there, and cultivate rice and eat,” he sent the brothers to that place. Having sent them, he gave them this advice: “For the crime that you tried to commit by killing me, that has befallen you. Therefore behave well now.”

After that, his father the King, his mother the Queen, the King and the two Queens, those five persons, remained at the palace.

North-central Province.

Although the whole story apparently has not been found in India, several of the incidents in it occur in Indian folk-tales.

I have not met with the marriage to the sword in them, but in The Indian Antiquary, vol. xx, p. 423, it is stated by Mr. Prendergast that in southern India, among two Telugu castes, “the custom of sending a sword to represent an unavoidably absent bridegroom at a wedding is not uncommon. It is considered allowable among other Hindus also.”

In The Story of Madana Kāma Rāja (called by the translator, Paṇḍita Naṭēśa Sāstrī, The Dravidian Nights), p. 43, the Kings of Mathurāpurī and Vijayanagaram caused the portraits of their respective son and daughter to be painted, and sent envoys with them in search of royal persons resembling them. The envoys met at a river, exchanged pictures there, and returned to their masters, who were satisfied with the portraits, and caused the wedding of the Prince and Princess to be celebrated at the latter’s home, Vijayanagaram.

In the same work, p. 12, a Prince in the form of a parrot, which was confined in a cage in the sleeping apartment of a Princess, on two successive nights resumed his human form, and smeared sandal and scent over the Princess while she slept, and then became a parrot once more. On the third night she was awake, and he told her his history.

At page 103, also, the King of Udayagiri, father of a Prince who had run off when about to be beheaded, having been deprived of his kingdom by the King of the Oṭṭa country, was reduced to selling firewood for a living, together with his wife and six sons. They came for this purpose to the city over which the Prince had become sovereign, and were discovered by him and provided for.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 93, a thief gained access to the bedroom of a Princess by means of a tunnel.

In Indian Fairy Tales (Thornhill), p. 122 ff., a Prince, riding a magical wooden horse, visited a Princess nightly while she was asleep, and pricking his arm each night, wrote “I love you,” in blood on her handkerchief. Although she tried to keep awake, for six nights after the first one she was asleep when he came. On the next night she scratched her finger with a needle and rubbed salt into the wound, so that the pain might keep her awake. When he entered the room she started up and inquired who he was, and how and why he had come.

In Indian Fairy Tales, Ganges Valley (Stokes), p. 163, the cutting of the tree trunk with the hair of the Princess occurs.

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), an elephant released rats when caught and imprisoned in earthen pots, and the rats in their turn served him by filling up with earth the pit in which he had fallen.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara, p. 360 ff., a Rākshasa King gave three tasks to the Prince who wished to marry his daughter. She assisted him by means of her magical powers, and he accomplished them successfully.

1 The narrator understood this to mean that large upright sheets of glass were fixed round the bed. ↑

No. 5

The Frog Prince

At a city there is a certain King; a widow lives at a house near his palace. She subsists by going to this royal palace and pounding rice there; having handed it over she takes away the rice powder and lives on it.

During the time while she was getting a living in this way she bore a frog, which she reared there. When it was grown up, the King of that city caused this proclamation to be made by beat of tom-toms: “I will give half my kingdom, and goods amounting to an elephant’s load, to the person who brings the Jewelled Golden Cock1 that is at the house of the Rākshasī (Ogress).”

Every one said of it that it could not be done. The widow’s Frog having heard the King’s proclamation, said to the widow, “Mother, I will bring the Jewelled Golden Cock. Cook a bundle of rice and give me it.” Having heard the Frog’s words, the widow cooked a bundle of rice and gave it to him.

The Frog took the bundle of rice, and hanging it from his shoulder went to an Indi (wild Date) tree, scraped the leaf off a Date spike (the mid-rib of the leaf), and strung the rice on it. While going away after stringing it, the Frog then became like a very good-looking royal Prince, and a horse and clothing for him made their appearance there. Putting on the clothes he mounted the horse, and making it bound along he went on till he came to a city.

Hearing that he had arrived, the King of that city prepared quarters for this Prince to stay at, and having given him ample food and drink, asked, “Where art thou going?”

Then the Prince said: “The King of our city has made a proclamation by beat of tom-toms, that he will give half his kingdom and an elephant’s load of gold to the person who brings him the Jewelled Golden Cock that is at the Rākshasī’s house. Because of it I am going to fetch the Jewelled Golden Cock.”

The King, being pleased with the Prince on account of it, gave him a piece of charcoal. “Should you be unable to escape from the Rākshasī while returning after taking the Jewelled Golden Cock, tell this piece of charcoal to be created a fire-fence, and cast it down,” he said. Taking it, he went to another city.

The King of that city in that very manner having prepared quarters, and made ready and given him food and drink, asked, “Where art thou going?” The Prince replied in the same words, “I am going to bring the Jewelled Golden Cock that is at the house of the Rākshasī.” That King also being pleased on account of it gave him a stone, “Should you be unable to escape from the Rākshasī, tell this stone to be created a mountain, and cast it down,” he said.

Taking the charcoal and the stone which those two Kings gave him, he went to yet another city. The King also in that very manner having given him quarters, and food and drink, asked, “Where art thou going?” The Prince in that very way said, “I am going to bring the Jewelled Golden Cock.” That King also being greatly pleased gave him a thorn. “Should you be unable to escape from the Rākshasī, tell a thorn fence to be created, and cast down this thorn,” he said.

On the next day he went to the house of the Rākshasī. She was not at home; the Rākshasī’s daughter was there. That girl having seen the Prince coming and not knowing him, asked, “Elder brother, elder brother, where are you going?”

The Prince said, “Younger sister, I am not going anywhere whatever. I came to beg at your hands the Jewelled Golden Cock which you have got.”

To that she replied, “Elder brother, to-day indeed I am unable to give it. To-morrow I can. Should my mother come now she will eat you; for that reason come and hide yourself.”

Calling him into the house, she put him in a large trunk at the bottom of seven trunks, and shut him up in it.

After a little time had passed, the Rākshasī came back. Having come and seen that the Prince’s horse was there, she asked her daughter, “Whose is this horse?”

Then the Rākshasī’s daughter replied, “Nobody’s whatever. It came out of the jungle, and I caught it to ride on.”

The Rākshasī having said, “If so, it is good,” came in. While lying down to sleep at night the sweet odour of the Prince having reached the Rākshasī, she said to her daughter, “What is this, Bola?2 A smell of a fresh human body is coming to me.”

Then the Rākshasī’s daughter said, “What, mother! Do you say so? You are constantly eating fresh bodies; how can there not be an odour of them?”

After that, the Rākshasī, taking those words for the truth, went to sleep.

At dawn on the following day, as soon as she arose the Rākshasī went to seek human flesh for food. After she had gone, the Rākshasa-daughter, taking out the Prince who was shut up in the box, told that Prince a device on going away with the Jewelled Golden Cock: “Elder brother, if you are going away with the Cock, take some cords and fasten them round my shoulders. Having put them round me, take the Cock, and having mounted the horse go off, making him bound quickly. When you have gone I shall cry out. Mother comes when I give three calls. After she has come, loosening me will occupy much time; then you will be able to get away.”

In the way she said, the Prince tied the Rākshasa-daughter, and taking the Jewelled Golden Cock mounted the horse, and making it bound quickly came away.

As that Rākshasa-daughter said, while she was calling out the Rākshasī came. Having come, after she looked about [she found that] the Rākshasa-daughter was tied, and the Jewelled Golden Cock had been taken away. After she had asked, “Who was it? Who took it?” the Rākshasa-daughter said, “I don’t know who it was.” After that, she very quickly unfastened the Rākshasa-daughter, and both of them came running to eat that Prince.

The Prince was unable to go quickly. While going, the Prince turned round, and on looking back saw that this Rākshasī and the Rākshasa-daughter were coming running to eat that Prince.

After that, he cast down the thorn which the above-mentioned King of the third city gave him, having told a thorn fence to be created. A thorn fence was created. Having jumped over it they came on.

After that, when he had put down the piece of stone which the King of the second city gave him, and told a mountain to be created, a mountain was created. They sprang over that mountain also, and came on.

After that, he cast down the charcoal which the King of the first city gave him, having told a fire fence to be created. In that very manner a fire fence was created. Having come to it, while jumping over it both of them were burnt and died.

From that place the Prince came along. While coming, he arrived at the Indi tree on which he had threaded the rice, and having taken off it all that dried-up rice he began to eat it. On coming to the end of it, the person who was like that Prince again became a Frog.

After he became a Frog, the clothes that he was wearing, and the horse, and the Jewelled Golden Cock vanished. Out of grief on that account that Frog died at that very place.

North-western Province.

In the Jātaka story No. 159 (vol. ii, p. 23) there is a tale of a Golden Peacock which lived upon a golden hill. A King got it caught and informed it that the reason was because “Your colour is golden; therefore (so it is said) those who eat your flesh become young and live so for ever.”

In the story No. 491 (vol. iv, p. 210) the chick is described as “of the colour of gold, with two eyes like gunja fruit, and a coral beak, and three red streaks ran down his throat and down the middle of his back.” On p. 212, it is said that “they who eat his flesh will be ever young and immortal.” This one lived in the Himālayas for seven thousand years.

In The Story of Madana Kāma Rāja (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 56, a Queen bore a Tortoise Prince who had the power of leaving his shell. At p. 141, a Queen also bore a Tortoise, which was reared by her, and eventually went in search of divine Pārijāta flowers (Erythrina indica) from a tree which grew in Indra’s heaven. He seems to have been a turtle and not a tortoise, being described as swimming for weeks across the Seven Seas. He climbed Udayagiri, the Mountain of the Dawn, and blocked the way of the Sun-god (who rises from behind it), in honour of whom he uttered 1,008 praises. Pleased with this, the deity gave him a splendid divine body like a man’s, and the power to resume his tortoise shape at will; he directed him to a sage, who sent him to another, and this one to a third, by whose advice he secured the love and assistance of a divine nymph, an Apsaras, by concealing her robes when a party of them were bathing. With her aid he obtained the heavenly flowers.

In Old Deccan Days, Ganges Valley (Frere), p. 69, a Prince, using a wand belonging to a Rākshasī, created in order to stop her pursuit, a river, a mountain, and apparently a forest. Lastly, by throwing down three of her hairs that he had secured he set the trees on fire, and she was burnt in the flames.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), p. 360 ff., the daughter of a Rākshasa King gave the Prince who wanted to marry her “some earth, some water, some thorns, and some fire, and her own fleet horse,” telling him how to use them. He was chased by the brother of the King, whom he went to invite to the wedding. When he threw down the earth a mountain was produced behind him; the water became a great river; the thorns a dense thorny wood. When the Rākshasa emerged from the wood and was coming on, the Prince threw down the fire, which set the bushes and trees in front of him ablaze, and finding this difficult to cross he returned home, “tired and terrified.”

1 Mini Ran Kukuḷā. The spelling in this and other instances is according to the manuscripts, except in such words as Rākshasa and Rākshasī, the village forms of which are Rāsayā and Rāsī; and Brāhmaṇa, which is usually given as Brahmanayā. ↑

2 A word without any special meaning in English, often used in addressing a person familiarly and somewhat disrespectfully. ↑

No. 6

The Millet Trader

At a certain city two men were cutting jungle, it is said. Having cut it for many days, one man said, “Friend, I will go and bring millet1 to sow in this chena clearing; you continue to cut the jungle.” The other man said “Hā” (Yes), and that man went to seek millet.

Having gone to a village, he went along asking the way to a house where there was millet. After he had gone there it became night, so he remained in a shed at the house. A lucky hour had been fixed by astrology for cutting the hair [for the first time] of a child at the house, on the following day after that.

Having told at the hand of his wife to put rice in water [to clean it], and to cook cakes from it, the man of the house that evening went to the watch-hut in his chena. The woman having pounded the rice and cooked cakes, selected the best cakes and put them in the rice mortar in order to give them to another man. The millet trader in the shed remained there looking on.

Afterwards the man who went to the watch hut returned, and when he was eating the cakes said, “Give a couple of cakes from them to that millet trader.” Then the woman having selected burnt, very burnt ones, and given them to the millet trader, the trader saying, “I cannot bite these,” put the cakes on the others in the rice mortar, and pounded them. The woman scowled at the millet trader, but because her husband was present she was unable to say anything, so she remained silent. The millet trader, having pounded all the cakes and eaten, tied up the surplus ones and put them aside.

After that, the man went again to the watch hut. Then that woman quickly put a gill of rice in water, and having pounded it into flour and very hurriedly cooked cakes, placed them in the house, and lay down in it.

The millet trader awoke, and while he was there looking about, saw a man coming. Arising quickly, he came to the open space in front of the house and coughed. Then the man, thinking, “Perhaps the man is at the house,” went back again.

After that, the millet trader went inside the house. That woman taking those cakes gave them in the dark to the millet trader, and said, “Andō! When I was cooking cakes I put the best cakes in the rice mortar in order to give them to you. Then, after being in the watch hut he (the husband) came, and while eating the cakes said to me, ‘Give a couple of cakes to that millet trader’; so I gave them. After that, the millet trader, that Roḍiyā, having put the cakes in the rice mortar that was full of the best cakes, pounded them and ate. Then I again put a gill of rice into water, and pounded it into flour, saying that you will come; and only just now finished cooking.”

The millet trader said, “Hā. It is good,” and ate.

Afterwards the woman said, “Now then, are we not cutting the child’s hair to-morrow? Now, what will you give on account of it?”

The millet trader said, “What have I got to give? When coming for millet I only brought four tuttu.”2

Then the woman, saying, “Be off! Be off! Roḍiyā! Are you the millet trader, Bola?” drove him away.

When he had gone back to the shed, she again put a gill of rice in water, and having pounded it and very rapidly cooked cakes and brought them into the house, lay down.

Afterwards, while the millet trader was there looking about, he again saw that man coming, so he arose quickly, and came to the open space in front of the house and coughed. That man again went away.

After that, the millet trader went into the house again. That woman rose quickly, and gave those cakes to him, and said to the man, “Andō! When I was cooking cakes to give to you I put the best cakes in the rice mortar. Afterwards he came from the watch hut, and while eating the cakes said to me, ‘Give a couple of cakes to that millet trader.’ So I gave them. Afterwards that Roḍiyā, putting the cakes in the rice mortar which was full of the best cakes, pounded them and ate. Then I again put a gill of rice in water, and cooked more cakes. Then, while I was looking out for you, some one like you came in the dark. I gave them to him. While he was eating them I said, ‘Now then, are we not cutting the child’s hair to-morrow? What will you give?’ That Roḍiyā said, ‘Only the four tuttu that I brought for millet.’ Then I got to know who it was. I drove him away, and again put a gill of rice in water, and pounded it, and I have only just finished cooking more cakes.”

The millet trader, saying, “Hā. It is good,” ate the cakes.

Then the woman said, “Now then, are we not cutting the child’s hair to-morrow? What will you give?”

The millet trader said, “If you should ask me even another time, still the same four tuttu.”

The woman saying, “Be off! Be off! Millet trader, Roḍiyā! Hast come again, thou!” drove him away. Then it became light.

Afterwards, the man who went to the watch hut came, and handed over the millet to the millet trader. On his giving it, the millet trader, tying it up in two bundles and placing them on his head, set off to go into the house.

That man saw it, and asked, “Where are you going there?”

The millet trader replied, “I don’t know. During the whole of last night they were going and coming along this very way, so I thought, ‘Maybe this is a high road.’ ”

The man said, “Put down the packages of millet there,” and having gone to the millet store-room, and handed over a greater quantity from the millet in it, beat that woman.

From there the millet trader went to another village, and sitting down at a house unfastened that package of pounded cakes, and was eating them. A woman who was looking on said, “Aḍē! What are you eating?”

The trader said, “They are pounded cakes of our country.”

The woman saying, “The colour of them is good indeed; give me some to look at,” begged and got some.

After eating them she said, “Aḍē! These millet cakes have a sweet taste; they are indeed good.”

The trader replied, “In our quarter the millet is of that very sort; let us go there together if you like.”

The woman said, “Hā” and having taken out all the effects in the house placed them in the jungle, ready for taking when she went.

Afterwards, taking those things, as they were getting very far away the man said, “What have you forgotten? Consider well.”

The woman replied, “I have not forgotten anything. I only forgot my flowered hair comb. It is of the pattern of my flowered hair pin.”

The trader said, “To be without a flowered hair comb is not proper in my country. I shall be here; you go and fetch it. If I should not be here on your return, call me, saying, ‘Day-before-Yesterday! Day-before-Yesterday!’ My name is Day-before-Yesterday (Perēdā).”

Then the woman came running home. When she returned, taking the flowered hair comb, the man was not there. So saying, “Day-before-Yesterday! Day-before-Yesterday!” the woman called and called. The man was not there.

The woman returned home, weeping and weeping. While she was there, her husband, having gone somewhere or other, came back, and asked, “What are you crying for?”

The woman said, “He who was taking millet, Day-before-Yesterday, plundered the house.”

The man said, “If he plundered the house day before yesterday, why didst thou not tell me yesterday?”

The woman replied, “Not day before yesterday. He who was taking millet, Day-before-Yesterday.”

Then the man said, “Isn’t that just what I’m saying? When he plundered the house day before yesterday, why didst thou not tell me yesterday?” Having said this, he beat the woman.

When the millet trader, taking the effects and the bundles of millet, went from there carrying his load, he came to another village. On going to a house, a woman was there weeping and weeping.

As the man was placing the effects and the millet bundles on the veranda of the house, he said, “Appē! I have been to the other world and back,”3 and laying them on the veranda, said, “What are you crying for, mother?”

The woman said, “My daughter died six days ago. When I think of her I am weeping.” Then she asked the millet trader, “Anē! My Lattī went to the other world; did you meet her there?”

The millet trader said, “Don’t cry, mother. I did meet her there. She is now in the other world. I have taken in marriage that very Lattī. I have come for Lattī’s things that she puts on her arms and neck. She told me to come.”

The woman quickly arose, and having cooked abundantly for the trader, and given him to eat, he said, “Mother, I must go immediately. Where is father-in-law?”

“He went to plough; wait till he comes,” she said.

“I cannot,” he said. “It is our wedding feast to-morrow. I must be off now to go to the wedding.”

So she gave the trader the silver and golden things for placing on her daughter’s arms and neck, also. Then the trader taking the bundles of millet, the effects, and the things for the arms and neck, went away.

After that, when the woman’s husband who had gone to plough came, the woman was laughing. Seeing it, he asked, “What are you laughing at?”

The woman replied, “Bolan, why shouldn’t I laugh? Our son-in-law came.”

“What son-in-law?” the man asked.

The woman said over and over again, “Lattī’s man came, Lattī’s man came. Our son-in-law, to whom our daughter is given in the other world. It is true.”

The man asked, “Bola, can any one in the other world come to this world? Didst thou cook and also give him to eat?”

The woman replied, “What! Didn’t I cook and give him to eat! After I had given him to eat he said that Lattī had told him to take away the things for her arms and neck. So I gave him those also.”

Then the man said, “Where is now, Bola, the horse that was here?” and asking, “Which way did he go?” and mounting on the horse’s back, went to seek that millet trader.

As the trader was going along in the rice field he looked back, and having seen a man coming on horseback, said, “That one is coming to seize me.”

There was a Timbiri tree very near there into which he climbed. While he was there, that man making the horse bound along, having come up, tied the horse to the root of the Timbiri tree. After he had climbed up the tree to catch the trader, the trader, descending from the ends of the Timbiri branches and cutting the fastening, mounted the horse, after placing on it also the bundles of millet and the other goods, and went off on the horse.

Then that man descended slowly from the tree, and having called “Hū” to the millet trader [to arrest his attention], said, “Tell Lattī that your mother-in-law gave you a few things to put on her arms and neck, but your father-in-law gave you a horse.”

Having returned to the house, he said to the woman, “It is true. He is really Lattī’s man. I said ‘Don’t go on foot,’ and having given him the horse I came back.”

The woman said, “Isn’t it so indeed! I told you so.”

Then the millet trader having gone to his village, and divided the goods with the chena cultivator, sowed the millet in the chena, and remained there.

North-western Province.

The story about Lattī’s husband occurs in The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 62, the dead girl’s name being Kaluhāmī. Her father was a Gamarāla, and the man who carried off the things for her was a beggar.

This part of the story is also given, with slight variations, in Tales of the Sun, Southern India (Kingscote and Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 135 ff.

In Folklore in Southern India (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 131 ff., the rogue did not pretend to be married to the woman’s daughter, but represented to her that her parents were living in the other world in a very miserable state, without proper clothing, and without the means of purchasing food. She handed over to him the clothing, jewels, and cash in the house, and he went off at once with them. The ending of the incident is the same as in Ceylon.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. xviii, p. 120, there is a story from Southern India, by Paṇḍita Naṭēśa Sāstrī, in which a youth obtained work under an appā4 (or “hopper”) woman, giving his name as “Last Year.” When he absconded with her cash-box she gave the alarm in the village by saying, “Last Year (he) stole and took my box,” and was thought to be out of her mind.

In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 182, the incident of the cakes pounded in the mortar is related. After eating part of the pounded cakes, the traveller was about to enter the corn-store in which the woman had concealed her lover. On the woman’s stopping him, the husband’s suspicions being aroused he examined the corn-store, and finding the man in it, beat him well, and his own wife also.

1 Amu (Paspalum scrobiculatum), the Tamil Varaku, a small grain cultivated in jungle clearings. ↑

2 Three halfpence. ↑

3 Elawa gihin melawa āwā, “Having gone to that world I came to this world.” This is a common saying, meaning in village talk, “What a long and tiring journey I have had.” According to the Rev. C. Alwis it also means, “I almost died, and recovered.” (The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 62.) ↑

4 Light rice cakes. ↑

No. 7

The Turtle Dove

In a certain city there are two Princes, it is said. A flower-mother1 cooks and gives food to the two Princes. The mother of the Princes is dead; the father is alive. The King has married another Queen, and because the Queen is not good to the Princes they live with the flower-mother.

One day, while they were living in that manner, the two Princes having gone to shoot birds with bows and arrows, walked until night-fall, but were unable to find any birds. As they were coming back, there was a Horse-radish tree (Murungā)2 at the front of the King’s palace, in which was a turtle dove. The younger brother saw it, and said to the elder brother, “Elder brother, there! There is a turtle-dove.” The elder brother shot at the turtle-dove, and it fell dead.

Afterwards, the younger brother having picked it up and come back, said at the hand of the elder brother, “Elder brother, are we to give this to our father the King, or are we to give it to the flower-mother?”

Then the elder brother said, “Why should we give it to our father the King? We will give it to the flower-mother who gives us food and clothing.” Taking the turtle-dove, the two Princes came to the house of the flower-mother, and gave it into the flower-mother’s hand.

On that day the King was not at the palace; only the Queen was there. The Queen remained listening to all that the two Princes said, and stayed looking [to see] if they gave the turtle-dove into the hand of the flower-mother.

That being so, after the King’s return to the palace in the evening the Queen told at the hand of the King what the Princes said, and the fact that they gave the turtle-dove into the hand of the flower-mother.

After that, the King settled to behead both Princes on the morrow. The flower-mother on hearing of it said at the hand of the Princes, “Children, the King said that he must behead you two to-morrow. To save both your lives go away somewhere.”

Having cooked a bundle of rice in the night, she placed gem-stones at the bottom of the bag and the cooked rice above them; and having tied up the bag she gave it into the hands of the Princes before it became light, and told them to go.

The two Princes took the bundle of cooked rice and went away. Having gone on and on, being hungry they sat down in the shade of a great forest. For rinsing their mouths after chewing betel, before eating rice, there was no water.

While they were seated there, a turtle-dove came and fell down, making a noise, “tas,” as it struck the ground. The younger brother asked, “Elder brother, what shall we do with this turtle-dove?” Then the elder brother said, “Hide it in a heap of leaves, for us to eat it yet.” The younger brother hid it.

Thereupon a Vaeddā came, and asked at the hand of the two brothers, “Anē! Didn’t a turtle-dove fall here?”

The two Princes said, “No.”

So the Vaeddā sought for it, continuing to say, “Anē! After trying for seven years, I shot the turtle-dove with my bow and arrow.”

Then the Princes said, “Anē! Vaedi-elder-brother, why is the turtle-dove such a good one?”

The Vaeddā replied, “Why shouldn’t it be good? The person who has eaten the right portion at that very time will receive the sovereignty. The person who has eaten the left portion will receive the sovereignty after seven years have gone by.”

Having said thus, the Vaeddā sought and sought it; he was unable to find the turtle-dove, and he went away. Then, having cooked it, the elder Prince ate the right half; the younger Prince ate the left half.

Having eaten it, the elder Prince, taking the small copper water-pot which the flower-mother gave them, went to seek for water. The younger brother remained there.

The elder brother, breaking and throwing down branches all along the path, having gone on and on, came to a large stream. Hearing a beating of tom-toms while getting water in the pot, he stayed there, looking [to see] what it was about. While he was there, the tom-toming having come near him, a tusk elephant came close to the Prince and knelt down.

The Prince knew that the royal elephant had selected him for the sovereignty, and said, “Anē! A younger brother of mine is there; how can I go without him? I will go there and come with him.”

Then the men who were there said, “You cannot seek your younger brother; you must mount now.” Afterwards the Prince having mounted on the elephant, went to the city of that kingdom, and became the king.

The younger brother, after having looked and looked for a long time, taking the bundle of cooked rice, came along the path on which the branches were broken, and descended to the stream. Then, having seen the elephant’s footprints, continuing to say, “Anē! It is this very elephant that has killed elder brother,” weeping and weeping he drank water; and having eaten part of the cooked rice, tied up the other part and went away.

While going along the path on which were the elephant’s footprints, he saw that his Prince’s robes were torn and torn, and repeating, “Anē! Elder brother has been killed. It is this very elephant. Kill me also, O Gods,” weeping and weeping, going on and on, he went after nightfall to a Heṭṭiyā’s house at some city or other, and said, “Anē! You must give me a resting-place for the night.”

The Heṭṭiyā was not at home; only his wife was there. The woman said to the Prince, “No resting-place will be given here. We do not allow any one to come to our house. The Heṭṭirāla goes to the King, to fan his face. On that account the Heṭṭirāla does not permit any one to come to this house. To-day the Heṭṭirāla went to the King, to fan his face. He will come at this time. Before he comes go away quickly.”

The Prince said, “Anē! Don’t say so. There is not a quarter to which I can go now. In some way or other you must give me it.”

Then the woman, taking a bit of mat, gave it into the Prince’s hand, saying, “If so, go to that calf house. When the Heṭṭiyā comes don’t even cough or anything. You must be silent.”

Afterwards, when the Prince was sitting in the calf house, the Heṭṭiyā returned, and while he was eating rice a cough came to the Prince. The Prince tried and tried to be silent. He could not. He coughed.

The Heṭṭiyā having heard it said to his wife, “What is that, Bola, I hear there?”

The woman said, “Anē! A youth, not vicious nor low, came and asked for a resting-place. I told him to go to the calf house. Do nothing to him. I told him to get up before daylight and go away.”

Then the Heṭṭiyā, saying, “I told thee, ‘Do not give a resting-place to any one’; is it not so? Why didst thou give it?” beat the woman. Having finished eating rice he came into the raised veranda.

When he was there, that Prince took the remains of his rice, and while eating it and thinking in his mind, “Anē! Was I not indeed a royal Prince before; why must I stop now in a calf house?” he saw the gem-stones at the bottom of the rice, and placing one on his knee ate the rice by its light.

The Heṭṭiyā having seen the light, asked at the hand of the woman, “Aḍē! Did you go and give a light also to that one?” The woman said, “It is not a light that I took and gave him.”

Then the Heṭṭiyā got up and went to look, and having seen the gem-stone, scolded the woman. “Aḍē! When my friend from a foreign town came dost thou give him a resting-place in this way? What hast thou given it at the calf house for? Was there no better place to give?”

Having said this, and again beaten the woman, “Quickly warm water,” he said. After waiting while she was warming it, he took the water into the house, and having placed it there, said to the Prince, “Let us go, younger brother, to bathe,” and gave him a bath. After finishing bathing him, having cooked food abundantly and laid the table, he gave him to eat.

When that was finished, he prepared a bed for sleeping, and said, “Younger brother, come and sleep.” The Prince came. Afterwards the Heṭṭiyā said to the Prince, “Younger brother, if there are any things of value in your hands give them into my hands. I will return them to you at the time when you ask for them. If they be kept in your hands they may be lost. There are thieves hereabouts; we cannot get rid of them. They will not let us keep anything; they carry it off.”

Then the Prince said, “Anē! There is nothing in my hands.”

The Heṭṭiyā said, “Nay, there was a gem-stone in your hand; I saw it. It will be there yet; give me it. I shall not take it in that way. I will give you it at the time when you ask for it.”

The Prince said, “Anē! Heṭṭi-elder-brother, I know your Heṭṭi slumber. It is necessary for me to arise early, while it is still night, and go away.”

Then the Heṭṭiyā said, “I shall give you it when you ask for it, no matter if I should be asleep. You can awake me; then I will give it.” Having said thus and thus, the Prince gave all the gem-stones into the hands of the Heṭṭiyā. The Heṭṭiyā taking them and placing them in a house in the middle of seven houses, went to sleep.

Afterwards, the Prince having been asleep, arose while it was still night, and awoke the Heṭṭiyā, saying, “Anē! Heṭṭi-elder-brother, it is necessary for me to go expeditiously. Quickly give me those few gem-stones.”

Thus, in this manner he asks and asks. It is no affair of the Heṭṭiyā’s. Then the woman said, “What is this! One cannot exist for this troubling. Must not persons who took a thing give it back? Must not this youth who is not vicious nor low go away? Why are you keeping them back?”

After that, the Heṭṭiyā, having got up, opening the seven doors of the seven houses came out into the light, and saying, “When, Bola, did I get gem-stones from thee?” he cut off the hair-knot of the Prince, and took him for his slave. So the Prince remained there, continuing to do slave work for the Heṭṭiyā.

Afterwards, one day the Heṭṭiyā and the Prince having gone on a journey somewhere, as they were coming to a stream the seven Princesses of the King of that country having been bathing in the stream, saw the Heṭṭiyā and the Prince going on the road.

The youngest Princess said to the other Princesses, “Elder sisters, that one going there is indeed a Prince.”

The six Princesses said, “So indeed! The Heṭṭiyā’s slave has become a Prince to thee!”

Then the Princess said another time, “However much you should say it is not so, that is indeed a Prince going along there.”

The six Princesses said, “It is not merely that to thee the Heṭṭiyā’s slave has become a Prince; he will come to call thee [to be his wife].”

Then the Princess replied still another time, “It is really so; he is inviting me indeed. However much you should say that, it was really a Prince who went there.”

The six Princesses said, “If he is inviting thee go thou also. The Heṭṭiyā’s slave is going there; go thou before he departs.”

The Princess replied, “I shall really go. You look. What though I have not gone now! Shall I not go hereafter?”

After the seven Princesses had come to the palace, the youngest Princess said at the hand of her father the King, “When we were bathing now, a slave youth went along with the Heṭṭiyā. That slave youth is really a Prince.”

Then the King sent an order to the Heṭṭiyā that the Heṭṭiyā’s slave and the Heṭṭiyā should come to him. Afterwards the Heṭṭiyā and the Heṭṭiyā’s slave went to the King.

The King asked, “Whence this slave youth?”

Then before the Heṭṭiyā said anything the Prince replied, “I was formerly a royal Prince; now I am doing slave work for this Heṭṭi-elder-brother.”

The King asked at the hand of the Heṭṭiyā, “Is he doing slave work for you?”

The Heṭṭiyā said, “Yes.”

After that, the King decided that he would give his youngest daughter to the slave youth (as his wife), so he sent away the Heṭṭiyā, and the Princess with the slave youth.

As those three were going to the Heṭṭiyā’s house, the Heṭṭiyā, becoming hungry while on the way, gave money into the hand of the Prince, and said, “With this money get three gills of rice, and with these ten sallis (half farthings) get a sun-dried fish, and come back and cook them.” He gave money for it separately into the Prince’s hand.

The Prince having bought three gills of rice with the money given for it, and placed it on the hearth to boil, took the ten sallis and went to the shops for the dried fish. When he looked at the dried fish there was none to get for ten sallis.

As he was coming back bringing the ten sallis, a man was on the road, having laid down a heap of dried fish. When the Prince came there the man asked him, “Where, younger brother, are you going?”

The Prince said, “I came for a dried fish; I have ten sallis. There being no dried fish to get for ten sallis I am going away.”

Then the man said, “Give me the ten sallis. Take any dried fish you want.”

So the Prince having given the ten sallis to the trader, selected a large dried fish, and putting it on his shoulder, as he was coming near the river the dried fish was laughing. After laughing, it asked, “Are you taking me in this manner to cook?”

The Prince replied, “Yes, to cook indeed.”

The dried fish said, “Do not take me. You are going to die now. From that I will deliver you. Put me into the river.”

The Prince having placed the dried fish in the river, and come back “simply” (that is, without it), made sauce and cooked the rice. When he had finished, the Heṭṭiyā said, “Separate and give me the cooked rice boiled from two gills.” So the Prince separated the rice from two gills and gave it. Then the Heṭṭiyā asked, “Where is the dried fish?”

The Prince said, “I could not get a dried fish for ten sallis; I walked through the whole of the bazaar. I came back empty-handed (‘simply’).”

Afterwards, the Heṭṭiyā having eaten half the rice in silence, heaped up the other half in the direction of the Princess (thus inviting her to eat it). The Princess saying, “Go thou! Have I come to eat rice out of the Heṭṭiyā’s bowl?”3 went to the place where the Prince was eating, and ate rice from the Prince’s plate.

Then the Heṭṭiyā said, “If it is wrong for thee to eat from my bowl, how is it thou art eating from my slave’s bowl?”

The Princess said, “Heṭṭiyā, shouldst thou any day say ‘slave’ again, I will tell it at the hand of my father the King, and get thee quartered and hung at the city gates.” After that the Heṭṭiyā was silent.

The whole three having finished eating rice, went on board the vessel that was to carry them along the river. While going along in the vessel, the Heṭṭiyā said to the Prince, “Cut me a mouthful of betel and areka-nut, and give me it.”

The Princess said, “Now then, having already cut betel and areka-nut, his food is done.”

The Prince saying, “It is not wrong; I will cut and give it,” cut and gave it to the Heṭṭiyā.

Afterwards the Heṭṭiyā again said to the Prince, “Get a little water and give me it.”

The Princess saying, “Now then, your doing slave work is stopped,” told the Prince not to give it.

The Prince said, “When there is thirst, how can one not give water? I will give him a little.”

While he was bending down over the side of the vessel to get the water, the Heṭṭiyā raised him, and threw him into the river.

As the Prince fell into the river, the dried fish that he had previously put in the river took him on its back, and having brought him to the shore, left him there. The Heṭṭiyā and the Princess went on in the ship to the Heṭṭiyā’s house.

The Prince was in the sun, on a sandbank. Then, as a flower-mother was coming to the river for water, she saw the Prince, and said, “What is this, son, that you are in the sun? Come away and go with me.” Inviting him, and going to her house with him, she warmed some water and made him bathe, and gave him food.

While he was there, the Prince told all at the hand of the flower-mother. After telling it, when he said, “I must go again to the Heṭṭiyā’s house,” the flower mother said, “O son, let him do what he likes. Don’t you go. Stop here.”

The Prince replying, “I cannot stay without going, O flower-mother; I will go there and come back to you,” went there. After he had gone to the Heṭṭiyā’s house he found that men had collected together there, and were saying that the Heṭṭiyā and the Princess were to be married on such and such a day. He stayed listening to them, and went again to the flower-mother’s house.

After he returned, asking for four sallis at the hand of the flower-mother he went to the potters’ village, and giving them the four sallis told them, “When I come to-morrow you must have ready a kettle having three zig-zag lines round it and twelve spouts.” So saying, he came back to the flower-mother’s house.

On the morning of the following day he walked to the potters’ village, and taking the kettle, came to the Heṭṭiyā’s house. As he arrived, men were dancing, and the King was looking on. At the time when they were finishing dancing he got on the raised veranda, and looked on. The dancing being ended he came out to the wedding hall. Then the Princess saw him and laughed. At that moment the Heṭṭiyā trembled.

The Prince having gone there said, “Stop that. It is necessary for me to dance a little.” Then he began to tell them all from the very beginning: “We were of such and such a city, the sons of the King of such and such a name. We were two Princes, an elder brother and a younger brother. Our mother was dead. A flower-mother gave us food and clothing.”

Having thus said a little of the story that he was relating, he danced, and while dancing sang to the kettle that he held in his hand—

Possessing three bent lines, a dozen spouts as well,

Little kettle, hear this our trouble that befel.4

Then he said, “While living thus we said one day, ‘Let us go and shoot birds,’ and elder brother and I went. Having walked till night-fall we did not meet with a single one. While we were returning home, as it was becoming night, there was a Horse-radish tree in front of the palace of our father the King. In that Horse-radish tree was a turtle-dove which elder brother shot; at the stroke it fell dead.

“Afterwards I asked at elder brother’s hand regarding it, ‘Elder brother, to whom are we to give this?’ Then elder brother said, ‘There is no need to give it to our father the King; let us give it to the flower-mother who gives us food and clothing.’ So saying, we took it home and gave it to the flower-mother.”

Again he danced, and sang while dancing—

Possessing three bent lines, a dozen spouts as well,

Little kettle, hear this our trouble that befel.

“Our Puñci-Ammā (step-mother, lit. ‘little mother’) after hearing this, on the return of our father the King told him of it, and our father the King appointed to behead us. Afterwards our flower-mother to save the lives of us both told us to go away. Having cooked a bundle of rice, and tied up a bag of it, placing gem-stones at the bottom and the cooked rice above, she gave it into the hand of both of us, and told us to go away somewhere before it became light. So we both came away. Walking on and on, we came to a great forest, and both of us sat down in the shade.”

Then he danced again, and sang while dancing—

Possessing three bent lines, a dozen spouts as well,

Little kettle, hear this our trouble that befel.

After that, he told a further part of his tale, and then danced again. Thus, in that way he related all the things that had occurred.

The King who had come to celebrate the wedding was the Prince’s elder brother. While the Prince was relating all these things the King wept.

Then the King asked at the hand of the Heṭṭiyā, “Is what he has said regarding the gem-stones, and the taking him as a slave, true?” The Heṭṭiyā replied, “It is true.”

Then the King caused the Heṭṭiyā to be quartered, and hung at the four gateways of the city.

After the King had caused the Prince and Princess to be married, and had given that kingdom to the Prince, both the King and the Prince went to their cities.

The elder brother who had eaten the right portion of the turtle-dove shot by the Vaeddā, at that very time obtained the sovereignty. The younger brother having eaten the left portion, when seven years had passed, on that day obtained the sovereignty.

So the Prince and Princess remained at their city.

North-western Province.

The notion that the persons who ate two birds, or the halves of one bird or of a fruit, would become Kings, or a King and his minister, is found throughout India in folk-tales.

In the Jātaka stories No. 284 (vol. ii, p. 280), and No. 445 (vol. iv, p. 24), two cocks were overheard to say that whoever ate one would get a thousand pieces of money, and the person who ate the other would become King, Chief Queen or Commander-in-Chief, and Treasurer or King’s favourite cleric. The second one was selected and eaten, with the corresponding result.

In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 150, there is a story by Miss S. J. Goonetilleke, in which a blind man, sitting under a tree, heard a Rākshasa who was in the tree saying to others that if the fruit of the tree were rubbed on the eyes of a blind man he would recover his sight, and that a person who ate the fruit on the top of the tree would become a King within seven days. The man regained his sight in this way, and having also eaten the fruit was selected as King by the royal elephant, which knelt before him. The man who had blinded him married his Prime Minister’s daughter; and ascertaining how the King recovered his sight and obtained his position, he got his wife to treat him in the same way and leave him under a tree, where he died.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. xvii, p. 75, there is a tale of two Princes who were ordered to be blinded because of a false charge made by the Queen, their step-mother. They escaped, and killed a Chakwā (Sheldrake) which they heard informing its mate that he who ate its head would become a King, and he who ate the liver would be very happy after twelve years’ wanderings. The elder brother went for food to a city, where the royal elephant threw a garland over his neck, and he became King. The younger brother being unable to find him worked for a potter, then travelled on and took the place of a woman’s son who was going to be offered to an Ogre, who had forced a King to give him daily a cart-load of sweet cakes, a couple of goats, and a young man. The Prince killed the Ogre while he was eating the cakes. The King gave him his daughter in marriage, and half the kingdom. The elder brother came to the wedding, and they recognised each other. When they visited their father he sent the Queen into exile.

In the Tamil work, The Story of Madana Kāma Rāja (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 125 ff., a Mango tree growing in a thick forest bore a magical fruit once in one hundred years. A sage waited for it, and went to bathe in order to purify himself before eating it. As two Princes whose parents had been reduced to poverty, were passing, the younger one picked up the fruit and placed it in their packet of rice. The sage followed them, but they denied all knowledge of the fruit. He informed them that the person who ate the outer part would become a king, and that from the mouth of the person who ate the seed, gems would drop whenever he laughed. The brothers divided the fruit in this way, and a royal elephant coming in search of a new King placed a garland on the neck of the elder one, and depositing him on its back went off with him. The younger one, thinking he was carried off by a wild elephant, left the wood, and was received at the house of a dancing girl. One day when he laughed gems fell from his mouth, and after getting many more, they gave him a purgative pill and secured the magic stone. After other adventures he was united to his brother, recovered the mango stone, and became a King himself.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 138 ff., Tales of the Punjab (F. A. Steel), p. 129, two Princes ran away on account of their step-mother’s cruelty, and while resting under a tree heard a Maina (Starling) and a Parrot telling each other that the two persons who ate them would become a King and a Prime Minister. They shot the birds with crossbows, and ate them. The younger one went back for the other’s whip, which was left at a spring, and was bitten and killed by a snake. The elder was selected as King, by a royal elephant. A magician found the dead Prince, drained the spring into his wife’s small brass pot, and the snakes being waterless gave back the Prince’s life. After stirring adventures, the younger Prince married a Prime Minister’s daughter, who went on a ship with him. There he was thrown overboard, but caught a rope and got back to his wife’s cabin unobserved. He met his brother the King at last, and was made to relate his life story. This he did in sections, on seven days, and at the end the King claimed him as his brother, and he became Prime Minister.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 276 ff., a step-mother got two Princes exiled. At night while they were under a tree two birds were heard predicting that those who ate them would become a King and a Minister, so they shot and ate them. The whip and snake incident are as above, the guilty snake being brought up by a cowry shell, of which the magician had despatched four to the four quarters. The snake breathed into the Prince’s mouth and revived him. He had wonderful adventures, and married a Princess, went on a ship with her, was thrown overboard, and assisted a gardener. The Princess had been sold at the palace, where the King, who was the elder brother, wished to marry her. The younger brother went disguised as a woman, and related his story by sections in three days, when the Princess claimed him as her husband. His brother made him Chief Counsellor, and at last he succeeded to his father’s kingdom.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 78, the persons who ate the head and breast of a bird became Kings.

At p. 159, the King’s elephant selected a person as King, the elephant bowing down to him, and the royal hawk perching on his hand.

At p. 167 ff., two Princes who escaped their death sentence, which was due to their step-mother’s plotting, heard two birds say of two others that they who ate them would become a King and Minister. They shot and ate them. The whip and snake incident occurred, the latter being a dragon. The elder brother was selected as King by the royal elephant and hawk. A jōgī emptied the spring and made the dragon restore the Prince, who was captured by robbers, saved by the daughter of one, went with her on board a ship, was pushed overboard, and was saved by the girl. They landed at the city where the elder brother was reigning, and he was made Minister, and eventually King when the elder brother succeeded their father.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 99, a royal elephant with a rich howdah on its back selected a Prince as King, and took him to the city.

1 Old flower-seller. ↑

2 Moringa pterygosperma. ↑

3 A thing only done by a man’s wife. ↑

4

Wangi tunak aeti, kembi dolahak aeti,

Apaṭa waeduna duka mē asāpan koṭa kotali.

↑

No. 8

The Prince and the Princess

In a certain city there are a Prince and a Princess, it is said. Because these two go together to the school the teacher said, “You two came together to-day; on another day you must not do it again.”

When they were coming separately on that account, the Princess, being in front, one day went to the well, and having bent down while trying to drink water, her writing style fell into the well. Being there alone the Princess was unable to get the writing style.

After the Prince came up she said, “Anē! My writing style fell into the well; get it and give me it.”

Then the Prince said, “I will get it and give you it if you will swear that you will not marry another person.”

The Princess said, “I will not marry another; I will only marry you yourself.” Having touched the Prince’s body she swore it, and the Prince having touched the body of the Princess also swore it. Then he got and gave her the writing pin, and one of them went in front and one went behind.

Those two learnt their letters excellently. Afterwards, both having grown up, when they inquired about arranging the marriage for the Prince he said, “You must bring me in marriage such and such a Princess, of such and such a village. If not, I do not want a different marriage.”

Then the King said, “Do you want the kingdom, or do you want the Princess?”

The Prince replied, “I do not want your kingdom at all; I want the Princess.”

Afterwards the King went and asked for the Princess. Then the father of the Princess said, “I will give the Princess to the persons who give me this well full of gold.”

So the Prince filled it and gave it, and the Prince and Princess having got married stopped many days at the Prince’s house.

Then the King said to the Prince, “Because at first you said that you did not want the kingdom, that you only wanted the Princess, you shall not live at my house. Go where you want.”

Then having gone to the Princess’s house, after they had been living there many days the father of the Princess said, “Taking a well of gold, I sold the Princess. You shall not live at my house. Go where you want.”

So those two went away. As they were going the Princess went along sewing a jacket. Having gone very far, after they sat down at a travellers’ shed near a city, the Princess gave the jacket that she had sewn into the Prince’s hand, and said, “Take this, and having sold it at the bazaar bring something to eat.”

The Prince having taken it to the bazaar, after he had told the bazaar men to buy it they said, “We are unable to say a word about buying this. It is so valuable that we have not got the means to purchase it.”

The guards of the King of that country having been present looking on, and having seen this, told the royal servants to bring the jacket to the King. After they had brought it the King took it, and gave the Prince two bags of money. The Prince left one and took one away.

The King having called his servants, ordered them, “Look at the place where that Prince goes and stays, and come back.” Well then, the servants having gone and having seen that the Princess was stopping at the travellers’ shed, came running, and said at the hands of the King, “There is a good-looking Princess at such and such a travellers’ shed.”

The Prince having left at the travellers’ shed the bag of money which he took, came for the other bag of money. While he was coming, the King, taking a horse also, went to the travellers’ shed by a different road, and placing the Princess on horseback brought her to the palace.

Well then, when the Prince, taking the other bag of money went to the travellers’ shed the Princess was not there. He called and called; she did not come. Afterwards, taking both bags of money he comes away along the road.

The Princess, while she was looked after by the guards, having seen from afar that the Prince was coming, said to the servants, “I am thirsty,” and told them to bring an orange quickly. After it was brought and given to her, she opened the skin and wrote a letter thus: “Give even both those bags of money, and buying two horses come near the palace, and having tied up the two horses stay there without sleeping. After the King has gone to sleep I shall descend down robes tied together, and having come to you, when I mount a horse you mount the other horse, and we will go off.”

Having placed the letter inside the skin of the orange and shut it up completely, so as to appear like a whole orange fruit, she threw it behind the guards, in front of the approaching Prince. The Prince thinking, because he was hungry, “I must eat this,” picked it up, and having gone into the shade of a Timbiri tree, sat down. When he opened the skin of the orange, having seen that there was a letter inside it he took it to the light, and read it aloud.

A Karumāntayā (a Kinnarā, a man of the lowest caste) who was in the Timbiri tree heard all that was written in the letter. Well then, the Prince having given the two bags of money and taken two horses, and having come near the palace on the appointed day, tied the two horses there. While he was there the Karumāntayā also came, saying, “Anē! I also must stop here at this resting place.”

The Prince said, “Do not stay here. Should the King hear of it he will drive us both away.”

The Karumāntayā replied, “Don’t say so. I also am going to stop here to-day,” and stayed there. The Prince went to sleep; the Karumāntayā remained awake.

After the King had gone to sleep, the Princess, descending down some robes, came there. When she was mounting a horse, the Karumāntayā mounted the other horse, and both of them went off together.

Having gone off, when the Princess looked after it became light, she saw the Karumāntayā. Afterwards she stopped the horse, and said to the Karumāntayā, “Get and give me a little water.” The Karumāntayā said, “I will not; get it to drink yourself.”

After the Princess had said it yet another time, the Karumāntayā dismounted from the back of the horse. When he had gone for water, the Princess cut with her sword the throat of the horse on which the Karumāntayā came, and went off, making the horse bound along. The Karumāntayā having run and run a great distance, returned again because he could not come up to her.

While the Princess was going on horseback, she came to a place where seven Vaeddās were shooting with bows and arrows. Those seven persons having seen the Princess coming, said to each other, “That Princess who is coming is for me.” The Princess having heard that saying, stopped the horse and asked, “What are you saying?”

Then each of the seven said, “The Princess is for me, for me.”

Afterwards the Princess said, “You seven persons shoot your arrows together. I will marry the one whose arrow is picked up in front of the others.”

After that, they all seven having at one discharge shot their arrows, while the seven persons were running to pick up the arrows the Princess went off, making the horse bound along. Those seven persons having run and run for a great distance, returned again because they could not come up to her.

The Prince having awoke, when he looked the two horses were not there, and the Princess was not there. So he walked away weeping and weeping.

Then, while the Princess was going near yet another city, putting on Brāhmaṇa clothes she went to the school at that city, and there having begged from a child a slate1 and slate pencil,1 she wrote a name in Brāhmaṇa letters (Dēvanāgari).

When she had given it to the children who were at the school, nobody, including also the teacher, was able to read it. Then the teacher took it to the King of that country, and showed him it. The King also could not read it. So the King appointed her as a teacher, saying, “From to-day the Brāhmaṇa must teach letters at the school.”

Now, when the Brāhmaṇa had been teaching letters for a long time, men told the King tales about her: “That is a woman indeed; no Brāhmaṇa.”

Then the King having said, “Hā. It is good,” told the servants, “Inviting that Brāhmaṇa, go to my flower garden. If it be a woman, she will pick many flowers and come away after putting them in her waist pocket. If it be a Brāhmaṇa, he will pick one flower, and come away turning it round and round near his eye.”

That Brāhmaṇa had reared a parrot. The parrot heard from the roof of the palace the words said by the King, and having gone to the school said to the Brāhmaṇa, “The King says thus.”

Next day, the Ministers having come to the school said, “Let us go to the flower garden,” and inviting the Brāhmaṇa, went there. Keeping in mind the words said by the parrot, the Brāhmaṇa broke off one flower, and holding it near the eye came away turning it round and round. The King looking on said, “From to-day no one must say again that it is a woman.”

Again, in that manner, when she had been there a long time, people began to say to the King, “No Brāhmaṇa; that is a woman indeed.”

Then the King again said to the servants, “To-morrow, inviting the Brāhmaṇa, go to my betel garden. If it be a woman, she will pluck many betel leaves, and go away after putting them in her waist pocket. If it be a Brāhmaṇa, he will pluck one betel leaf, and holding it near his eye he will come away turning it round and round.” Hearing that also from the roof of the palace, the Brāhmaṇa’s parrot having gone to the Brāhmaṇa said, “The King says so and so.”

Next day, the King’s Ministers having gone to the school said, “Let us go to the betel garden,” and inviting the Brāhmaṇa, went there. Keeping in mind the words said by the parrot, in that very manner breaking off one betel leaf, and holding it near the eye, she came away turning it round and round. The King, looking on at it also, said, “From to-day I shall cut with this sword the one who says again that it is a woman.”

After that, the Brāhmaṇa having carved a figure like the Princess, gave it into the hands of the scholars, and said, “Taking this, go and collect donations (samādama). After you have gone, inviting to come with you him who on seeing this figure recognises it, return with him.”

After the scholars, taking the figure, had gone to a city, the seven Vaeddās saw it, and said, “Here is the Princess.” Having drawn near they asked, “How is it that she has gone away for such a long time since she went from here that day? Where is she now?”

Then the scholars, saying, “She is now at our city; let us go there,” inviting those seven persons, returned with them. After they had come to the school the Brāhmaṇa said, “Cut them down, the seven persons.”

After they had cut them down, the Brāhmaṇa said to the scholars, “Take this again. Again inviting him whom you meet, return with him.”

The scholars took it again, and while they were going to another city met that Karumāntayā. After he had said, “Anē! Ammē! Where did you go for such a long time? Where is she now?” the scholars replied, “The Princess is now at our city; let us go there.” After they had come to the school the Brāhmaṇa said, “Cut down that one also.”

After they had cut him down, she said to the scholars, “Take this again.” The scholars, taking it, and having gone to another city, met with the Prince. Having come in front of it, the Prince fell down weeping. The scholars said, “Do not weep. She is in our city; let us go there.”

After they had come to the school, the Brāhmaṇa arose quickly, and having thrown off the Brāhmaṇa clothing, dressed herself in her Princess’s robes. Having prepared warm water and made the Prince bathe, the Princess cooked ample food, and gave him to eat.

While she was doing this, the scholars having gone to the King said, “It was a Princess who was there. After we went to a city to collect donations, having met with the Princess’s Prince he came back with us. Both of them are now at the school.”

After that, the King, having come to the school, and having asked about those things from those two, built a house with a tiled roof, and gave it and half the village to the Princess as a present.

North-western Province.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 86, a Prince induced three persons who were quarrelling over the ownership of some wonderful articles left by their master, a Fakīr, to run for three arrows which he discharged in three directions. While they were absent, he took three of the articles, and seating himself on a magic seat which was one of the things, was conveyed away by it.

At p. 306 ff. of the same work, a Prince and Princess eloped when the latter was about to be married to another Prince. While on their way, she remembered some jewels which she required, and he returned for them. In the meantime a robber had come up in the dark, and finding her servant asleep had ridden off with the Princess, who thought he was the Prince. When daylight came she found out her mistake, sent him to a village for food, and then rode off alone; and calling at a goldsmith’s house for a drink, was detained and requested to marry him. On her agreeing, he gave her gold ear-rings and her jewels, with which she rode off, and stayed with a married couple, disguising herself as a man. An elephant selected her as King. Then she got an artist to paint her portrait, and she hung it in a thoroughfare of the city, with a guard who seized all who recognised her. These proved to be the robber, her servant, the goldsmith, and the two who befriended her, and lastly the Prince. When the Prince saw her portrait he fainted. He was first made Prime Minister, and afterwards the Princess revealed herself to him, and he became King. The robber and goldsmith were imprisoned, and the others rewarded. The resemblance to the Sinhalese story is striking.

1 Evidently a modern interpolation, as the Princess was represented as using only a writing style. ↑

No. 9

Tamarind Ṭikkā

In a certain city there are seven elder brothers and younger brothers, it is said. The seven have a younger sister, who cooks and gives food to all seven.

While the seven brothers were cutting and cutting the sides of an earthen ridge (nīra) in the rice field, they saw seven women coming, and said to them, “Where are you going?”

The seven women replied, “We are seven elder sisters and younger sisters; and we are going to seek seven elder brothers and younger brothers.”

Then the seven brothers said, “We are seven elder brothers and younger brothers. Stop with us.”

The seven sisters said, “Hā.”

The seven brothers having brought the seven sisters to their house, leaving them there went again to the rice field, and chopped the ridges. Those seven sisters having boiled seven pots of paddy and spread it out to dry, said to their sister-in-law, “We are going for firewood; you stay at home and look after these things.”

After they had gone, that sister-in-law fell asleep. Then rain having fallen, the seven large mats (māgal) on which the paddy was spread were washed away. When the seven sisters came, and saw that the mats and paddy had been washed away, they seized that woman, and having beaten her, drove her away from the house. So she went to the foot of a Tamarind tree on the roadside, and stayed there.

When a long time had passed after she went there, all those seven women bore girls. The woman under the Tamarind tree bore a boy.

As the eldest brother was going along the road on which was the tree, the woman said, “Anē! Elder brother, look at my boy’s horoscope.” He said, “I will not.”

As the next brother was going she said, “Anē! Elder brother, look at my boy’s horoscope.” He said, “I will not.”

Thus, in that way all the six elder brothers refused.

Afterwards, when the youngest brother was going, on her saying, “Anē! Elder brother, look at my boy’s horoscope,” he said, “Hā,” and went.

When he looked at it, the astrologer said, “He is born such that he will bring misfortune to those seven girls. The child will be so lucky that he might obtain a kingdom.”

Then the brother having returned, said to that woman, “That one has been born such that he will eat thee. Knock his head on a stone or root, and kill him.”

The woman saying, “It is good. Let him eat me,” reared him.

The child having become big, said at the hand of the woman, “Mother, now then, oughtn’t you to bring me an assistant (i.e. a wife)?” The woman replied, “Anē! Son, who will give in marriage to us?”

Afterwards the youth went to a place where they were grinding flour, and having put a little flour under his finger nail, came back. “Mother, mother, quickly hold a basin,” he said. The woman held one. Then, when he put into the basin the little flour that was under his finger nail, it filled it and ran over.

Having gone again to a place where they were expressing coconut oil, in the same way he took a little coconut under his finger nail, and came back. “Mother, mother, hold that quickly,” he said. The woman held it. That also was filled and overflowed.

Again, having gone to a place where they were warming Palm-tree syrup, in the same way he took some under his finger nail, and came back. “Mother, mother, hold that quickly,” he said. That also was filled and overflowed.

Afterwards the youngster said, “Mother, cook cakes with those things, and give me them.” So the woman having cooked them, tied up a pingo (carrying-stick) load, and gave it to him.

The youngster, taking the pingo load, went to his eldest uncle1. After he asked him for his daughter’s hand in marriage, the uncle said, “Be off! Be off! Who would give in marriage to Tamarind Ṭikkā?”

From there he went to the next uncle, and asked him. That uncle spoke in the same manner. All the six elder uncles spoke in the same manner.

Then he went to the youngest uncle, and when he asked him the uncle said, “Put the packages of cakes there, then.” (Intimating by this that he accepted him as a son-in-law. He alone knew of the nature of the boy’s horoscope.)

Afterwards, having cooked and given Tamarind Ṭikkā to eat, the uncle said, “My buffalo cow has died, Tamarind Ṭikkā. Let us go and bury it, and return.”

Tamarind Ṭikkā said “Hā,” and having gone to the place where the dead buffalo was lying, said, “Uncle, shall I make that get up?” The uncle said “Hā.” So Tamarind Ṭikkā went to the low bushes at the edge of the jungle, and came back cutting a white stick. Then calling out, “Into the cattle-fold, Buffalo cow! Into the cattle-fold!” he struck the buffalo. Then the buffalo cow that had been dead got up, and came running to the cattle-fold. By the calves from that buffalo cow the cattle herd was increased.

One day, while the six uncles and Tamarind Ṭikkā were watching cattle in the field, the uncles said, “Tamarind Ṭikkā, we will watch. You go and eat, and come back.” After he had gone home, the six uncles cut all the throats2 of his cattle. When he returned the six uncles said, “Anē! Tamarind Ṭikkā. Some men came, and having tied us all and thrown us down in the dust, cut all the throats of your cattle. Not a thing could we do.” Tamarind Ṭikkā said, “Hā. It is good.”

As he was going away, having seen people burying a corpse he waited while they were burying it, and after they had gone he dug out the grave, and raised the dead body to the surface. Then lifting up the body and taking it to a tank, he bathed it, dressed it in a cloth, tied a handkerchief round its waist, tied a handkerchief on its head, put a handkerchief over its shoulder,3 and placing it on his shoulder went away with it.

After nightfall, having gone to a village, Tamarind Ṭikkā set the body upright against a clump of plantain trees, and asked at a house, “Anē! You must give us a resting-place to-night.”

When he said this the men in the house replied, “There will be no resting-place here. Go away, and ask at another house.”

Then he said, “Anē! Don’t say so. Our great-grandfather is coming there.”

Women were driving cattle out of that garden. Tamarind Ṭikkā said to them, “Anē! Our great-grandfather is coming there. His eyes cannot see anything. Don’t hit him, any one.”

Then a woman at the raised terrace of the shop, having knocked down a stump, when she was throwing it at the cattle the dead body was hit, and fell down. At the blow Tamarind Ṭikkā went running there, and cried out, “Appē! Great-grandfather is dead.”

The men came out of the house and said, “Tamarind Ṭikkā, don’t cry. We will give you a quart measure of money.”

“I don’t want either a quart measure of money or two. Our great-grandfather is dead,” Tamarind Ṭikkā said, and cried aloud.

Again the men said, “Appā! Tamarind Ṭikkā, don’t cry. We will give you three quart measures of money.”

Tamarind Ṭikkā said, “I don’t want either three or four. I want our great-grandfather.”

Again the men said, “Tamarind Ṭikkā, don’t cry. We will give you five quart measures of money.”

Tamarind Ṭikkā said, “I don’t want either five or six. Give me my great-grandfather.”

The men said, “Tamarind Ṭikkā, don’t cry. We will give you seven quart measures of money.”

Then Tamarind Ṭikkā said, “Hā. It is good. Give me them. What of that! Will our great-grandfather come to his senses again?”

Taking the seven quart measures of money, and returning to his village, Tamarind Ṭikkā spread a mat on the raised veranda of his house, and having put the seven quart measures of money on it, was counting it. The six uncles having come, said, “Whence, Tamarind Ṭikkā, this money?”

“Ō! Will people with cattle hides to sell become in want of money?” he said.

After that, the six uncles having cut the throats of all the cattle they had, and tied the skins into pingo loads, taking them to the villages asked, “Will you buy cattle hides?”

The men said, “Go away. Go away. Who will give money for cattle hides?”

Then the uncles having come to their village, becoming angry with Tamarind Ṭikkā, spoke together, “We must kill him.” So they went to him and said, “Tamarind Ṭikkā, let us go on a journey together.” He asked, “Where?” The six uncles said, “A daughter of ours has been asked in marriage. On that account we must go to-day to eat betel at the house of the people who have asked for her. Tamarind Ṭikkā said “Hā,” and went with the uncles.

Having gone very far, they came to a foot-bridge made of a tree trunk (ēdanḍa), and on seeing it the uncles spoke together, “Let us hang Tamarind Ṭikkā under this, and go away.” So they put him in a sack, and having hung it under the foot-bridge, went off.

While he was under it, as a washerman bringing a bundle of clothes was going over the bridge, Tamarind Ṭikkā said, “Appē! The lumbago is a leetle better since I have been hanging here.” Then the washerman said, “Tamarind Ṭikkā, I also have lumbago; hang me up a little.”

Tamarind Ṭikkā said, “If so, unfasten this sack.” After the washerman unfastened it, Tamarind Ṭikkā came out, and having put him in the sack, and again tied it in the same manner under the foot-bridge, took his bundle of clothes, came to the rice field with it, and spread the clothes out to dry.

As the six uncles were returning, they cut the fastenings of the sack that hung under the bridge (thus letting it fall into the stream).

While coming along afterwards to the village, they saw Tamarind Ṭikkā in the rice field spreading clothes out, and asked, “Whence, Tamarind Ṭikkā, these clothes?”

Then he said, “Ō! Will people who have to be under foot-bridges become in want of clothes?”

The six uncles said, “Hang us there also, Tamarind Ṭikkā,” and they brought six sacks and gave them to him. So he put the six uncles into the six sacks, and hung them under the foot-bridge, and afterwards cut the fastenings of the sacks. Then the six uncles were carried away down the river, and died in the sea.

The six women (their wives) ran away; their six girls, saying, “Our fathers are going for clothes to wear. Let us go also,” also ran away.

So the six uncles, and the six women, and the six girls all died. Tamarind Ṭikkā, and his wife, and uncle, and aunt, and mother, these five remained.

North-western Province.

In the Jātaka story No. 432 (vol. iii, p. 304), a similar incident to the last one is related. A woman whom her son and his wife thought they had burnt while asleep, frightened a robber when he came to the cave in which she had taken refuge, and thus got his bundle containing jewels. When she returned home next day with the jewels, and was asked by her daughter-in-law where she got them, she informed her that all who were burnt on a wooden pile at that cemetery received a similar present. So she went there, and burnt herself.

In The Story of Madana Kāma Rāja (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 97 ff., a Prince was requested to deliver letters to the departed relatives of all at the palace of the King under whom he was employed, who twice before had endeavoured to kill him by giving him apparently impossible tasks. By the aid of the magical powers of his wives, he jumped into a pit of fire with the letters, and was saved by Agni, the Fire God, who sent him back next day out of the fire, with costly jewels and a splendid dress. All the persons who were hoping to kill him decided to follow his example, and were burnt up. The Prince then became the ruler of the kingdom.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. iii, p. 11, in a Bengal tale by G. H. Damant, six men burnt a farmer’s house. He loaded two bags of the ashes on a bullock, and on the way met some men driving bullocks laden with rupees, changed two of their bags for his own, met the six men who burnt his house, and told them he got the money by selling the ashes. They burnt their houses and were beaten by people for trying to sell ashes. Then they went to the farmer’s house, tied him, put him in a sack, and threw him into a river. He was saved by a man who was riding past, on his offering to cut grass for his horse without pay. He rode off on the horse, overtook the six men, and informed them that he found the horse in the river, where there were many more. They persuaded him to throw them in, tied in sacks, and all were drowned.

In the same journal, vol. iv, p. 257, the incident is given as found among the Santals. A man who was in a sack, about to be drowned, induced another, a shepherd, to take his place. The man then took possession of the shepherd’s cows, and when those who thought they had killed him heard from him that there were many more in the river, they allowed themselves to be tied up and thrown in.

In vol. xviii, p. 120, in a South Indian story by Paṇḍita Naṭēśa Sāstrī, a man who had cheated some persons was carried off, tied up in a bag, to be burnt alive. While firewood was being fetched, he induced a cow-watcher to take his place, and he himself drove off the 1,001 cows of which the man had charge. When his enemies returned to his house after burning the watcher, they found him there to welcome them, the cows being all around. He informed them that on going to Kailāsa, the residence of the God Śiva, after being burnt, he met his father and grandfather, who stated that his allotted time on earth had not expired, and sent him back with the cows. The others decided to go also, and were tied up and burnt.

A variant of the last incident is also found in West Africa, and is given in Contes Soudanais (C. Monteil), p. 121. A sorceress captured a youth, whom she wished to destroy enclosed in three goat skins, and she set her daughter to watch the package while she dug a pit and filled it with wood, which she set on fire. The girl heard the boy apparently eating food inside, and questioned him about it. He said, “I have better than that; I have some dainties.” As she wanted some she released him and was tied up in his place, while he escaped clothed in her dress. The sorceress returned, and threw the bundle into the fire. Although she heard a voice inside saying the boy had tied up the girl in it, she believed it was only a trick of his.

A similar incident is related in another story in the same volume, p. 164.

It also occurs in a folk-tale of the Southern Province which I contributed to The Orientalist (vol. ii, p. 53). As other incidents in that story resemble some in the tales given below, I give it in full here.

I may add that however improbable the marriage of seven brothers to seven sisters may appear, it has been nearly matched in recent years in England. The Daily Mail of January 20, 1908, contained the following words regarding an old lady who had just died:—“She was one of seven members of her family who married seven sons and daughters of a neighbouring farmer.”

1 Loku māmā. ↑

2 Lit. necks. ↑

3 This is the dress of a villager when visiting friends. A white jacket is now often added. ↑

No. 10

Mātalangē Loku-Appu

Once upon a time there lived a man and a woman, whose son was a youth named Mātalangē Loku-Appu.

One day the mother went to the river to fetch water, telling her son to allow nothing whatever to enter the house in her absence. While she was away a small lizard (hikanalā) ran into the house. As it approached, the boy called out to it to stop, but it took no notice of him, and climbed up into the roof, whereupon Loku-Appu set fire to the roof and burnt the house down. When his mother returned, and asked him how the house came to be burnt, he informed her that he had done it in driving the lizard out of the roof.

Afterwards the father came home, and on learning what had occurred set off into the forest with his son to cut sticks, in order to build a new house. While he cut the sticks he ordered Loku-Appu to collect them.

A river flowed through the forest, and Loku-Appu asked him where it ran. “To your house,” he replied. The son, taking this literally, threw all the sticks into the river, so that it might transport them home. When the father discovered that all the sticks were lost in this way, he flew into a passion, tied the boy on a log, and set him afloat in the river, saying, “Go thou also.”

At a short distance down the river there was a sweet-potato garden. The gardener saw the log and boy floating past, and rescued Loku-Appu. He inquired the boy’s name, and was told it was “Uprooter-of-Creepers, Sweet-Potato-Eater.” Nevertheless, he placed the boy in charge of his garden.

After two or three days, the gardener returned to inspect his garden, and found all the sweet potatoes pulled up and eaten. So he tied the boy on the log again, and set him afloat once more.

Further down the river there was a plantain garden, the owner of which saw Loku-Appu on the log, and drew him ashore. When asked his name, Loku-Appu replied, “Eater-of-the-first-Comb-of-Plantains, Crusher-of-young-Plantain-Shoots.” The man gave him charge of the garden.

In a few days, the man came to see how his garden progressed, and found everything broken down and eaten. On this, he at once dismissed Loku-Appu.

Having nothing to live upon, Loku-Appu now began to borrow from some tom-tom beaters. After a few months, these men, finding that he did not repay them, called on him to make him come to a settlement. Loku-Appu saw them at a distance, and guessing their errand, put a young girl into the corn store-room, and began to trim a club with his knife.

When the creditors arrived he requested them to be seated. Soon afterwards he fetched up an old woman who lived in the house, gave her a smart blow with the club, and put her also into the corn-store.

After a few minutes, he called for betel to be brought, and the little girl came out with it. At this, the tom-tom beaters were greatly astonished, and made inquiries regarding the miracle, for such they thought it. Loku-Appu told them that the virtue lay in the club, with which all old women could be converted into young girls.

When they heard this, they became exceedingly anxious to possess the wonderful club, but Loku-Appu refused to part with it on any terms. At last, finding persuasion useless, the tom-tom beaters took it from him by force, and went straight home with it.

There they called up part of the old women of their village, and after beating them well with the club, put them into the corn store-rooms. To give the charm time to work they waited three days. Then they went to examine the old women, expecting to find them become young again; but all were dead.

Full of anger, they went to Loku-Appu to tell him that he had deceived them, and that the women were all dead. While they were still at a distance, Loku-Appu cried out, “Alas, alas! They have taken hold of the wrong end of the stick!” When they came near he explained to them the blunder they had made. As they took the stick from him by force he was not responsible for it.

This time he cut a mark on the right end of the stick to be used, telling the tom-tom beaters that if the wrong end were used the women would certainly die, while the proper end would as certainly change them into young girls.

When the tom-tom beaters returned to their village they fetched up all the rest of the old women, and after belabouring them well with the proper end of the club, put them also into the corn-stores. Yet after three days they found that the result was just the same as at first; all the women were dead.

Determined to revenge themselves on Loku-Appu, they came to his house, tied him up in a sack, and set off to the river with him, intending to drown him. On the way, they heard the beating of tom-toms, whereupon they set the sack down on the road, and went to see what it was about.

During their absence, a Muhammadan trader in cloth who was coming along the road, found the sack, and heard a voice proceeding from it: “Alas! What a trouble this is that has come upon me! How can I govern a kingdom when I cannot either read or write?”

The trader immediately untied the sack, and questioned Loku-Appu as to how he came there. Loku-Appu explained to the trader that he was about to be made a king, but not possessing the requisite amount of knowledge for such a high position he had refused the dignity; and now he was being carried off in this way to be put on the throne. “By force they are going to make me king,” he said.

The trader remarked to him, “It will be a great favour if you will let them do it to me instead”; and eventually they changed places, Loku-Appu tying the trader in the sack, and he himself taking the man’s clothes and bundle of cloth. Loku-Appu then hid himself.

In a short time the tom-tom beaters came back, carried away the sack with the would-be king, and threw it into the river.

As they were returning past a part of the river, they saw, to their intense surprise, Loku-Appu washing clothes in it. They came to him and said, “What is this, Loku-Appu? Where have you come from? Where did you get all this cloth?” He replied, “These are the things which I found in the river bottom when you threw me in with the sack. As they are rather muddy I am cleaning them.”

The tom-tom beaters said that they would be greatly obliged if he would put them in the way of getting such treasures, so he requested them to bring sacks like that in which he had been tied.

They soon came back with the sacks, were tied up in them, and were thrown into the river by Loku-Appu.

Then Loku-Appu went to the tom-tom beaters’ village, and took possession of their lands and houses.

Some of the incidents of this story are found in No. 58 also.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. iii, p. 11, in a Bengal story, by Mr. G. H. Damant, some men who had been cheated by a farmer, called at his house regarding the matter. He offered them food, and when they sat down to the meal struck his wife with his bullock goad, and said, “Be changed into a girl, and bring in the curry.” She went out, and sent back their little daughter with the food. He then sold the men the magic stick for one hundred and fifty rupees, telling them that if they beat their wives well with it they would all recover their youth. They acted accordingly, and beat them so thoroughly that the wives were all killed. Then they returned and burnt the farmer’s house down, as noted at the end of the last story, where the later incidents are given.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. xviii, p. 120, there is a South Indian story by Paṇḍita Naṭēśa Sāstrī, in which, when three persons who had been cheated by a man came to interview him regarding the frauds, they were welcomed by him. According to arrangement, he beat his wife, who was dressed as an old woman, with a pestle and put her inside the house, explaining to his guests that he had only done it to make her young again. Soon afterwards she reappeared as a young woman. He lent them the magic pestle for a week, but by its use they only killed their relatives. Then they returned in order to square up accounts with him, tied him in a bag, and carried him up a mountain, intending to burn him alive. When they went for the firewood, a cow-herd came up, learnt from him that he was about to be forcibly married to a girl, took his place, and was burnt, the impostor himself driving off the 1,001 cows which the man was watching. When the three cheated persons returned and learnt that he had been sent back from Kailāsa with the cattle, as his time on earth had not expired, two of them got him to burn them in a similar way.

No. 11

The White Turtle

At a village there are an elder sister and a younger sister, two persons. The two are going away, it is said.

While going, they saw two bulls going along. Then the cattle asked, “Where are you going?”

“We are going to a country where they give to eat and to wear” (meaning that they were in search of husbands).

“Are we good enough for you?”1 the cattle asked.

“What do you eat?” they asked.

“Having been put in those chenas we eat paddy and jungle vegetables.”

Saying, “We don’t want you,” the two women go on.

As they were going, they met with two jackal-dogs. “Where are you going?” they asked the two women.

“We are going to a country where they give to eat and to wear,” they said.

“Are we good enough for you?” they asked.

“What do you eat?” they asked.

“We eat a few fruits and crabs,” the two jackals said. “What do you eat?”

“We eat dried-fish fry,” they said. Saying, “We do not want two jackals,” the two women still go on.

While they were going, an elder brother and a younger brother were ploughing. They asked the two women, “Where are you going?”

“We are going to a country where they give to eat and to wear,” they said.

“Are we good enough for you?” they asked.

The two women asked, “What do you eat?”

“We eat dry-fish fry,” they said.

“Then both parties eat it,” they said. “It is good.”

“If so, it is good. Go to our house,” the men said.2

Afterwards those two men, having given the two keys of their houses into the hands of the elder sister and the younger sister, said, “The cooking things are in such a place; go there, and having opened the doors cook until we come.”

Then the two women went to the houses, and the elder sister opened the door of the elder brother’s house and cooked; and the younger sister opened the door of the younger brother’s house and cooked. Afterwards the two men came home, and having eaten, stopped there [with the sisters, as their husbands].

After many days had passed, the two sisters bore two girls. The younger sister had many things at her house; the elder sister had none. On account of that, the elder sister through ill-feeling thought, “I must kill younger sister.”

One day, the two sisters having cooked rice, while they were taking it to the rice field the younger sister went in front, and the elder sister went behind. On the way, they came near the river. Then the elder sister said, “Younger sister, didst thou never bathe? The skin on thy back is dirty. Take off that necklace and the clothes on thy body, and lay them down, and let us bathe and then go.”

They put down the two mat boxes of cooked rice, and having descended into the river, she called, while bathing, to her sister, “Younger sister, come here for me to rub thy back.” While rubbing she threw her into the middle of the river. Then she took the two boxes of cooked rice and went to the rice field. The younger sister died in the river.

After the elder sister went to the rice field, the younger brother asked at the hand of the elder sister, “Why has no one come from our house?”

Then the elder sister said, “Andō! Catch her coming!3 Isn’t she playing [illicit] games at home?” Having given the two boxes of rice to the elder brother and the younger brother, that woman returned home.

Afterwards that younger sister’s girl asked, “Loku-Ammā,4 where is our mother?”

Then the woman said, “Andō! Catch her coming! When I came she was still stopping in the rice field.”

After it became night, the elder brother and the younger brother having come home, the younger brother asked, “Girl, where is thy mother?”

Then the girl said, “At noon she took cooked rice to the rice field with Loku-Ammā; she has not come yet.”

The younger brother said, “Where? She did not go to the rice field.”

Then the girl said, “At the time when I asked at the hand of Loku-Ammā, ‘Where is our mother?’ she said, ‘She is at the rice field.’ ”

Afterwards the elder sister, calling the elder brother and the younger brother, both of them [to be her husbands], took her sister’s goods, and remained there with them. From the next day, having cooked she gave the rice into the hands of the two girls to take to the rice field.

After the girls had gone near the river for two or three days, they saw one day a White Turtle in it, and approached and tried to catch it. When the elder sister’s girl went to catch it, it went to the middle of the river; when the younger sister’s girl went, it came to the bank, and rubbed itself over the whole of her body.

After the elder sister’s girl had gone home, she told the elder sister of it: “Mother, there is a White Turtle in the river. When that girl goes it comes to her; when I go it swims far away,” she said.

That elder sister said, “Hā. It is good. I shall eat it,” and lay down.

The younger sister’s girl hearing it, went near the river, and said, “Mother, she must eat you, says Loku-Ammā.”

Then the White Turtle said, “Hā. It is good, daughter. Let her eat. After she has cooked she will give you, also, a little gravy, and a bone. Drink the gravy, and take the bone to the cattle-fold, and having said, ‘If it be true that you are our mother, may you be created a Mango tree,’ throw it down.”

Afterwards, when those two men came home, having seen that the woman was lying down, “What are you lying down for?” they asked.

Then the woman said, “It is in my mind to eat the White Turtle that is in the river.” So the men went to the river, and having caught the White Turtle, and brought it home, and cooked it, gave it to the woman. Then the woman got up and ate it.

She gave the girl a little gravy, and a bone. The girl having drunk the gravy, took the bone to the cattle-fold, and saying, “If it be true that you are our mother, may you be created a Mango tree,” threw down the bone.

After that, a Mango tree being created, in a day or two grew large and bore fruit. As the two girls were going near the Mango tree they saw that there were Mangoes on it, and went close to it. When the elder sister’s girl went to pluck the Mango fruits, the branches rose up; when the younger sister’s girl went to pluck them, the branches bent down, and spread over her body and head. Well then, after that girl had plucked and eaten as many as she wanted, the branches rose again.

That also the elder sister’s girl, having come home, told her: “Mother, there are fruits on the Mango tree at the cattle-fold. When I try to pluck them the branches rise; when that girl tries to pluck them the branches rub the ground.”

The woman said, “Hā. It is good. I will split that and warm it in the fire.”

After hearing that also, that girl, having gone to the Mango tree said, “Mother, having split you she must warm you in the fire, Loku-Ammā says.”

Then the Mango tree said, “Hā. It is good, daughter. Let her split. A splinter having fallen will remain here. Take it, and having said, ‘If it be true that you are our mother, may you be created a Kaekiri creeper,’ put it down at the back of the house.”

Afterwards, when the elder sister’s two men came, having seen that she was lying down, “What are you lying down for to-day also?” they asked.

Then the woman said, “Having split the Mango tree at the cattle-fold, it is in my mind to have a few splinters warmed for me in the fire.” So the two men having gone to the cattle-fold, and having cut and split up the Mango tree, and brought a few splinters home, put them in the fire and fanned it. After that, the woman got up, and warmed herself at the fire.

Then that girl went to the place where the Mango tree was, and when she looked a splinter was there. Taking it, she came to the back of the house, and having said, “If it be true that you are our mother, may you be created a Kaekiri creeper,” she put it down. In a day or two a Kaekiri creeper was created there, and bore fruits.

On going there, the younger sister’s girl said, “There is fruit,” and having plucked and eaten as many as she wanted, she came home. When the elder sister’s girl went to pluck them there was not a single fruit.

Having returned home, the girl said regarding that also, “Mother, on the Kaekiri creeper which is at the back of the house there are many fruits when that girl goes to it; when I go, not a single one.”

The woman said, “Hā. It is good. Having uprooted it I will eat it in a dry curry.”

That girl after hearing that also, went near the Kaekiri creeper and said, “Mother, having uprooted you and cooked you in a dry curry, she must eat you, says Loku-Ammā.”

The Kaekiri creeper said, “Hā. It is good, daughter. Let her eat. At the place where I am uprooted there will be a Kaekiri root. Take it to the river, and having said, ‘If it be true that you are our mother, be created a Blue-Lotus flower,’ throw it into the river.”

The elder sister having uprooted the Kaekiri creeper, took it home, and having cooked the curry, ate. After that, the girl went to the place where the Kaekiri creeper had been, and when she looked a Kaekiri root was there. Having taken it to the river, and said, “If it be true that you are our mother, be created a Blue-Lotus flower,” she threw it into the river. Then a Blue-Lotus flower was created.

When the two girls were going together to the river to bathe, having seen that there was a Blue-Lotus flower, that younger sister’s girl went and held out her hands in a cup shape. Then the flower which was in the middle of the river came into the girl’s hands, and opened out while in her hands. When the elder sister’s girl was holding her hands for it, it goes to the middle of the river.

That girl having come home, said of it also, “Mother, there is a Blue-Lotus flower in the river. When that girl goes it comes to her hands; when I go it moves far away.”

The woman said, “Hā! It is good. That also I shall seize, and take.”

The girl after having heard that also, went and said, “Mother, she must pluck you also, says Loku-Ammā.”

Then the Blue-Lotus flower said, “Let that woman say so, daughter. She is unable to pluck me.”

Afterwards the woman having told at the hands of the two men, “Pluck the flower and come back,” the two men having gone to the river tried to pluck it; they could not. When they are trying to pluck it, it goes to the middle of the river.

Afterwards, the men having told it at the hand of the King of the country, and having told the King to cause the flower to be plucked and to give them it, the King also came near the river on the back of an elephant, together with the King’s servants. The elder sister, and the two girls, and the two men stayed on this side.

Then the people on this side and the people on that side try and try to take that flower; they cannot take it. That younger sister’s girl having gone to one side, after looking on said, “Indeed I am able to take it, that flower.” The King on the other side of the river having heard that, while he was on the back of the elephant, said, “What is it, girl, that you are saying?”

Then that girl said, “O Lord, I am greatly afraid to speak; I indeed am able to take it, the flower.”

“Hā. Take it,” the King said. Afterwards, when the girl was holding her hands in a cup shape, the flower that was in the middle of the river came into her hands.

Afterwards the King, taking that flower, and placing the girl on the elephant, went to the King’s city.

North-western Province.

In the Jātaka story No. 67 (vol. i, p. 164), a woman went to a King and begged for “wherewith to be covered,” by which she meant her husband, who had been arrested. She explained that “a husband is a woman’s real covering.”

In Indian Fairy Tales (Stokes), p. 144, a girl who was supposed to be drowned became a pink-lotus flower which eluded capture, but came of its own accord into the hand of a Prince.

1 Literally, “Are we bad?” ↑

2 Up to this point the story follows one related by a Durayā; the rest belongs to the cultivating caste. ↑

3 Literally, “Is there any coming for her?” ↑

4 Great Mother: The title of a mother’s elder sister; her younger sister is called Puñci-Ammā, Little Mother. The letter c is pronounced as ch in transliterations. I follow the village writers in not marking the various forms of n; they write punci or pun̥ci. ↑

No. 12

The Black Storks’ Girl

In a certain country there are a woman and a man, it is said. The man cuts jungle at a chena clearing; the woman is weaving a bag. After the man comes home, the woman asks, “Is the jungle cut yet?” The man says, “A couple of bushes are cut; is the bag woven?” The woman says, “A couple of rows are woven.”

Continuing in that way, after the end of two or three days the man, while returning from cutting jungle, saw a Kaekiri creeper at a threshing-floor, and having come near, and seen that there was a fruit on it, plucked and ate it. A Kaekiri seed remained fixed in his beard.

After he came home, the woman, seeing it, asked, “Where did you eat Kaekiri?”

The man said, “When I was coming home there was a Kaekiri creeper at a threshing-floor on the way; on it there was a fruit. I ate it.”

Then the woman said, “There will be more on that creeper. After I have woven the bag let us go there.”

Afterwards, having gone with him to the threshing-floor, she saw that the Kaekiri creeper had spread completely over the floor, and that there were as many fruits as leaves. While plucking them, she bore a girl there.

Afterwards, the man having plucked Kaekiri, and filled and tied up the bag, said to the woman, “Shall I take the girl, or shall I take the bag?”

The woman told him to take the bag, leaving the girl there. So the girl was left at the threshing-floor, and the man and woman went home, taking the bag of fruit with them.

While a Black Stork (Mānā) and a female Black Stork (Mānī) were going about seeking food, the female Stork saw that a girl was at the threshing-floor, and having gone near it, cried out, “Aḍē! A thing for me! Aḍē! A thing for me!” When the male Stork heard this he came running to the spot. Having looked at the girl, the two Black Storks took her to their house, and reared her there.

After a time, the girl having become big, the female Black Stork and the male Black Stork said, “Daughter, we must go for golden bracelets and golden anklets for you.”

At that house there were a Parrot, a Dog, and a Cat, which were reared there. The two Storks told the girl, “Daughter, after we have gone, do not reduce the food of either the Parrot, or the Dog, or the Cat. Until we return, be careful not to put out the fire on the hearth, and not to go anywhere whatever.” After saying this, they went to bring the golden bracelets and golden anklets.

That girl having been careful for two or three days in the way the female Stork and male Stork told her, lessened the food of the Cat. That night the Cat extinguished the fire on the hearth.

Next morning, the girl having gone to the hearth to cook, when she looked there was no fire on the hearth. So she said to the Parrot, “Younger brother, last night I reduced the food of the Cat a little. For that, the Cat has extinguished the fire on the hearth, and now there is no fire for cooking. You go and look from which house smoke is rising, and come back.”

Then the Parrot having gone flying, looked and looked. There was not any coming from any other houses; from the house of the Rākshasa, only, there was a smoke. The Parrot having come home, said, “Elder sister, I looked at the whole of the houses. There was not any; only from the house of the Rākshasa the smoke came.” Afterwards the girl, having said, “If so, younger brother, you stop at home until I go and bring fire,” went for the fire.

The Rākshasa was not at home; only the Rākshasa’s wife was there. The girl having gone to that house, said, “Give me a little fire.” Then that woman made the girl boil and dry seven large baskets of paddy (unhusked rice), and pound the paddy in those seven, and bring seven large pots of water, and bring seven bundles of firewood. Then taking a piece of coconut shell with a hole in it, she put ashes at the bottom, and having placed a fire-charcoal on them, gave it to her. While the girl was going home, the ashes fell through the hole all along the path.

Afterwards, when the Rākshasa came home, “What is this, Bolan?” he asked the woman; “there is a smell of a human body, a human body that has been here.”

The woman said, “A girl came for fire. Thinking you would come, I employed that girl, and having made her boil seven baskets of paddy, and dry it, and pound it, and bring seven large pots of water, and seven bundles of firewood, when I looked you were not to be seen. Afterwards, having placed ashes in a piece of coconut shell with a hole in it, I put a fire-charcoal on them, and gave her it. By this time she will have gone home. There will be ashes along the path on which that girl went. Go, looking and looking at the ashes-path,” she said.

Afterwards the Rākshasa went along the ashes-path. The Parrot having seen him coming in the rice field, said, “Elder sister, the Rākshasa is coming. Shut the door,” he said. So the girl, shutting the door and bolting it, stopped in the house.

The Rākshasa having come near the house, said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the Parrot said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

Then the Rākshasa ran to catch the Parrot. He could not catch it; the Parrot went into the forest and stayed there.

Afterwards the Rākshasa having come again near the house said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the Dog, which was in the open space at the front of the house, said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

The Rākshasa having gone running after the Dog, and having caught and killed the Dog, came again near the house, and said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the Cat that was in the raised veranda said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

The Rākshasa, having gone running, killed also the Cat, and again having come near the house, said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the Gam-Murungā1 tree said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

Afterwards the Rākshasa, having cut down and broken up the Gam-Murungā tree, again went near the house, and said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the Murungā logs said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

The Rākshasa, having set fire to the logs, and gone near the house again, said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the ashes of the burnt Murungā tree said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

The Rākshasa, having collected the ashes, and taken them to the river and placed them in it, and again having gone to the house, said, “Here are golden bracelets, O daughter. Here are golden anklets, O daughter. Open the door, my daughter.”

Then the water of the river said, “No golden bracelets, O elder sister. No golden anklets, O elder sister. Open not the door, wise elder sister.”

Afterwards, the Rākshasa, having gone to the river, and having drunk and drunk, could not finish the water, and at last he burst open and died.

After that, the female Black Stork and the male Black Stork brought the golden bracelets and golden anklets, and having given them to the girl, remained there.

North-western Province.

In a variant of this story, related by a Durayā in the North-western Province, the persons who abandoned the child were a Gamarāla and his wife, the Gama-mahagē.

On the Storks’ finding it, they cried, “Aḍā! I have met with a gem!” Their home was in a rock-cave. When the Parrot warned the girl that the Rākshasa was coming, “having gone running, and having sprung into the cave, she shut the door. The Rākshasa says, ‘Having brought bracelets for the arms, jackets for the body, cloths for the waist, O daughter, open the door, my daughter.’

“Then the Parrot said, ‘It is false that there are bracelets for the arms, jackets for the body, cloths for the waist. Open not the door, my elder sister.’

“Then the Rākshasa tried to kill the Parrot. Having flown away it settled on a tree. The Rākshasa having smashed the Parrot’s cage, again says, ‘Having brought bracelets for the arms,’ ” etc.

The Cat warned the girl and was killed, then the Dog, next the Ash-plantain tree, and lastly the Katuru-Murungā tree. I now translate again.

“After that, he struck a finger-nail into the lintel, and having struck another finger-nail into the threshold, the Rākshasa went away.

“After that, the male Black Stork and female Black Stork came. Having come, they say, ‘Having brought bracelets for the arms, jackets for the body, cloths for the waist, open the door, my daughter.’

“Then the Parrot says, ‘It is true that there are bracelets for the arms, jackets for the body, cloths for the waist, elder sister. Open the door, my elder sister.’

“As she was coming out opening the door, her foot was pricked by a finger-nail, and the crown of her head by a finger-nail. Then becoming unconscious she fell down, the finger-nails having entered her. Both Storks together drew out the finger-nails.”

She recovered, and they gave her the things they had brought, but sent her away. The rest of the story is an evident modern addition of no interest. She went to a large chena, and was taken home by a widow who was there.

In another variant of the Western Province the two birds which reared the child were Crows. After the child was born, the mother, a Gamarāla’s wife (Gama-Mahagē or Gama-Mahayiyā) said, “Are we to take the child, or are we to take the bag of Kaekiri?” Her husband replied, “Should we take the child it will be [necessary] to give it to eat and to wear; should we take the bag of Kaekiri we shall be able to eat it for one meal.” “So the Gama-Mahagē, having put the child among the Kaekiri creepers, taking the bag went home.” The Crows carried away the infant, and called it Emal Bisawā, Queen of the Flowers. When the girl had grown up, the birds went to bring pearls for her to wear, after giving her the usual injunctions regarding the food of the Dog, the Cat and the Parrot. She reduced the Dog’s food, and it put out the fire. The Parrot found smoke rising from the house of a Rākshasī, and guided her to the place. The Rākshasī was absent; her two daughters gave the girl two amunas (nearly twelve bushels) of paddy to pound. “She thought, ‘Having been pounded, go into the house,’ and it became pounded of its own accord.” Then they gave her seven perforated pots to be filled with water and brought. She filled them and handed them over. They gave her a piece of coconut husk with a hole in it, and a perforated coconut shell, and filled the former with sesame seeds, and the latter with ashes on which was placed burning charcoal. She hurried home with these, being warned by the Parrot that the Rākshasī was coming.

When the Rākshasī asked her daughters who had been to the house, they replied that the female Crow’s girl had taken some fire, and that there would be sesame and ashes along the path by which she had gone. The Rākshasī ran along it, found the door shut, and said, “Mother has come. Father has come. We are bringing pearls of the sea; we are bringing also wire for stringing the pearls. Open the door, O daughter.” The Katuru-Murungā tree warned her that it was false; when it was burnt, its ashes repeated the warning, then the Dog, the Cat, and the Parrot. Then the Rākshasī, “having broken her finger nails, and having fixed one above and one below in the door-frame, went away. After that, her mother and father came, and said, ‘Mother has come. Father has come. We are bringing pearls of the sea; we are bringing also wire for stringing the pearls. Open the door, my daughter.’ The Parrot said the same. As she opened the door, a finger-nail having entered the crown of her head she died. When they asked the Parrot, ‘What has happened?’ ‘Because of the Rākshasī elder sister died,’ he said.”

In a fourth variant of the North-western Province the aspect of the story is partly changed, and I give a translation of the latter portion, because it contains an account of a runaway match, such as still sometimes occurs.

In this story, a Gamarāla’s wife went with another woman to the chena while the Gamarāla was asleep, and after eating as much fruit as possible they filled a bag also. As they were proceeding home rapidly with it, the Gamarāla’s wife gave birth to a child at a hollow in which pigs wallowed. She asked the other woman to carry it home for her, but this person refused, and took the bag of Kaekiri fruit instead, so the child was abandoned.

Then the two Storks came, and carried the child to their cave, and reared it. After the girl grew up, they went off to seek bracelets and necklaces for her, instructing the girl to “give an equal quantity of food to the Cock, the Dog, the Cat, the Parrot, the Crow, the Rat, and the other creatures,” and warning her that if she gave less to the Rat it would extinguish the fire. After some days she reduced the Rat’s food, so it put out the fire.

The Parrot found a house—not a Rākshasa’s—from which smoke was rising, and guided the girl to it. The woman who was at it gave her some fire without delaying her, and she returned home with it. I now translate the concluding part.

“After the son of the woman who had the fire came home, the woman says to her son, ‘To-day a good-looking Princess came to the house.’ Then the son asks, ‘Mother, by which stile did the Princess go?’ His mother says, ‘Here, by this stile,’ and showed him it.

“Then the man having set off, and having gone near the cave, and seen the Princess, when he said, ‘Let us go to our house,’ the Princess said, ‘Because my parents are not here [to give their consent] I cannot go.’ This man says, ‘No matter for that,’ and seizing the hand of the Princess, they came to his house.

“Afterwards the two Black Storks which went seeking bracelets and rings, having come near the cave, when they looked the Princess was not there. The Black Storks ask the Dog, the Cat, the Crow, the Parrot, the Rat, and the Cock, ‘Where is the Princess?’ They all say, ‘A man came, and while the Princess was saying she could not go he seized her hand and took her away.’ When the Storks asked, ‘By which stile did he take her?’ saying, ‘There, by that stile,’ the animals showed them it.

“Then the two Black Storks having gone flying, when they looked the Princess was staying at the house. Afterwards the two Storks gave the Princess the bracelets, rings, and coral necklaces which they had brought; and having handed her over to the man, the two Black Storks went to their dwelling.”

In Old Deccan Days, Ganges Valley (Frere), p. 87 ff., there is a variant according to which the child was carried off to their nest by two eagles, from the side of the mother. After the eagles went to bring a ring for her, the cat stole some food, and on being punished by the girl put out the fire.

The girl went to a Rākshasa’s house for a light, and was detained by his mother, pounding rice and doing other housework. She left at last with instructions to scatter corn along the path.

The Rākshasa followed the track and climbed to the nest, but the outer door was bolted, and he could not enter, so he left his nail in a crack of the door. When the girl opened the outer door—there were seven in all—the nail wounded her hand, and being poisonous apparently killed her. The eagles returned, and seeing this flew away. When a King arrived and drew out the nail, she recovered, and he married her.

1 Moringa pterygosperma. ↑

No. 13

The Golden Kaekiri Fruit

In a certain city there are a man and his daughter, it is said. The man’s wife being dead, the girl cooks food for the man. The man cuts jungle at a chena clearing. The girl every day having cooked, and placed the food ready for her father, goes to rock in a golden swing.1 Then a Mahagē2 comes and says, “Daughter, give me a little fire.” The girl sitting in the swing says, “Is it here with me? It is at the hearth; take it.” The Mahagē goes into the house, pulls out and takes the things which that girl has cooked and placed there, and having eaten, carries away the fire.

So, after two or three days had passed in that manner, the man asked, “Who, daughter, while I am coming home has eaten the rice that you have cooked and placed for me?”

Then the girl said, “I don’t know, father. Every day when I have cooked the food and placed it ready for you, and gone to rock in the golden swing, a Mahagē comes and begs fire from me. Then I say, ‘Is it here with me? It is at the hearth; take it.’ It will be the Mahagē.”

Then the man, having said, “Hā. Daughter, cook and arrange the food to-day also, and go to the golden swing,” got onto the shelf, and stayed there.

Afterwards the girl, having cooked and placed the food exactly as on other days, went to the golden swing. Then the Mahagē having come on that day also, begged, “Daughter, give me a little fire.” The girl said, “Is it here with me? It is at the hearth; take it.”

Then the Mahagē having gone into the house, and drawn out the pots, and eaten part of the rice, when she was about to rise after taking the fire, the man on the shelf asked, “What is that you have been doing?”

The Mahagē said, “What indeed! Why don’t you invite me [to be your wife]?”

The man said, “Hā. Stop here.” So the woman stayed.

After a great many days had passed, the woman lay down. “What are you lying down for?” asked the man.

The woman said, “It is in my mind to eat your daughter’s two eyes.”

Afterwards the man called the girl, and said, “Daughter, a yoke of cattle are missing; let us go and seek them.” While he went with the girl, taking a cord, the dog also followed behind.

Having gone into a great forest, he said, “Daughter, come here in order that I may look at your head.”3 While he was looking and looking at it, the girl fell asleep. Then the man placed the girl against a tree, and tied her to it; and having cut out her two eyes, came home and placed one on the shelf and one in the salt pot. The dog that went with the man having come home, howled, rolling about in the open space in front of the house.

There was also a child. That little one having gone somewhere, on coming back bringing a mango, asked that Mahagē, “Loku-Ammā, give me a knife.” The woman said, “Have I got one here? It is on the shelf; get it.”

Then the child, going into the house, and putting his hand on the shelf, caught hold of the eye placed there by the man, and said, “This is indeed our elder sister’s eye. Loku-Ammā, give me a piece of salt.”

The woman said, “Have I got any here? Take it from the salt pot.”

When the child put his hand into the salt pot the other eye was there. He took it also. When he stepped down from the veranda of the house into the compound, the dog went in front, and the child followed after him.

Having gone on and on, the dog came to the place in the great forest where the girl was, and stopped there. When the child looked, his elder sister was tied to the tree. He saw that red ants were biting her from her eyes downward, and having quickly unfastened her he took her to a tank, and bathed her. Then taking both her eyes in his hand, he said, “If these are our elder sister’s eyes, may they be created afresh,” and threw them down. After that, they were created better than before.

Afterwards the girl said, “Younger brother, we cannot go again to that house. Let us go away somewhere.” So they went off. While they were going along the road, a King was coming on horseback, tossing and tossing up a golden Kaekiri fruit. The child, after looking at it, said, “Elder sister, ask for the golden Kaekiri.”

The girl replied, “Appā! Younger brother, he will kill both of us. Come on without speaking.”

Then the child another time said, “Elder sister, ask for it and give me it.”

The King having heard it, asked, “What, Bola, is that one saying?”

The girl replied, “O Lord, nothing at all.”

“It was not nothing at all. Tell me,” the King said a second time.

Then the girl replied, “O Lord, I am much afraid to say it. He is asking for that golden Kaekiri.”

The King said, “I will give the golden Kaekiri if thou wilt give me thy elder sister.”

The child said, “Elder sister and I, both of us, will come.”

So the King, having placed the girl on horseback, went to his city with the child, and married the girl.

After many days had passed, when the King was about to go to a war the girl was near her confinement. So the King said, “If it be a girl, shake an iron chain. If it be a boy, shake a silver chain.” Afterwards the girl bore a boy, and shook a silver chain.

Before the King came back, the girl’s father and Loku-Ammā (step-mother), having collected cobras’ eggs, polangās’4 eggs, and the like, the eggs of all kinds of snakes, and having cooked cakes made of them, came to the place where the girl was.

The girl’s Loku-Ammā told her to eat some of the cakes. When she did not eat them, that woman, taking some in her hand, came to her and rubbed some on her mouth. At that very moment the girl became a female cobra, and dropped down into a hole in an ant-hill. Her father and Loku-Ammā went home again. The infant was crying on the bed.

Afterwards, when the girl’s younger brother was saying to the golden Kaekiri:—

They’ll me myself to kill devise;

In bed the gold-hued nephew cries;

As a lady, gold-hued sister rise,”5

the cobra returned [in her woman’s form], and having suckled and bathed the infant, and sent it to sleep, again [becoming a snake] goes back to the ant-hill.

Then the King having returned, asked the younger brother, “Where, Bola, is thy elder sister?”

The child said, “Our father and Loku-Ammā having cooked a sort of cakes came and gave us them, and Loku-Ammā told elder sister to eat. Afterwards, as she did not eat, Loku-Ammā, taking some, rubbed them on elder sister’s mouth. At that very moment elder sister became a female cobra, and dropped down into an ant-hill.”

Then the King asked, “Did she not return again, after she had dropped down into the ant-hill?”

The child replied, “While I was calling her she came back once.”

The King said, “Call her again in that very way.”

So the boy said to the golden Kaekiri,

They’ll me myself to kill devise;

In bed the gold-hued nephew cries;

As a lady, gold-hued sister rise.”

Afterwards, the cobra came [in her woman’s form], and having suckled and bathed the child, and sent it to sleep, cooked for the King, and apportioned the food for him.

Then when she tried to go away [in her cobra form], the King cut the cobra in two with his sword. One piece dropped down into the ant-hill; the other piece became the Queen, and remained there.

After that, the King collected cobras, polangās, all kinds of snakes, and having, with the Queen, put them into two corn measures, they took the two boxes, and went to the house where the Queen’s father and Loku-Ammā were. There they gave them the two boxes, and said, “We have brought presents for you. Go into the house, and having shut the door, and lowered the bolt, open the mouths of the two boxes. Otherwise, do not open the mouths in the light.” The King and Queen remained outside.

The Queen’s father and Loku-Ammā, taking the two boxes, went into the house, and having shut the door and bolted it, opened the mouths of the two boxes. At that moment, the snakes that were in them came out, and bit both of them, and both of them died.

Afterwards, the King and Queen came to the city, and stayed there.

North-western Province.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 132, a girl received a fan, the shaking of which summoned a Prince, however far away he might be.

At p. 239 also, a Queen received a golden bell, the ringing of which summoned the absent King.

In the Sinhalese story, it is evidently to be understood that the shaking of the chain would be heard by the King while he was away, although the narrator omitted to mention this.

1 Ran oncillāwa. ↑

2 A well-to-do woman of the village. Gama-Mahagē is the title of the wife of a Gamarāla, a village headman or elder. ↑

3 To search for insects. She would sit down for the purpose. ↑

4 Daboia russelli. ↑

5

Un mamma nasinḍayi,

Ranwan bāēnā aendē andanḍayi,

Ranwan akkā sāminē wenḍayi.

↑

No. 14

The Four Deaf Persons

In a certain city there were a woman and a man, it is said. Both of them were deaf. A female child was born to that man, and this child was also deaf. The man to whom she was given in marriage when she grew up was also deaf.

The girl’s husband went to plough a rice field at the side of the high road. While he was ploughing, a man who was going along the road asked the way. Continuing to plough with the yoke of bulls, the deaf man said, “I brought this bull from the village. This other bull is from father-in-law’s herd.”

“What are the facts about the bulls to me? Tell me the way,” the man said.

The deaf man replied, “The bull is from my herd.”

The man said again, “What are the facts about the bulls to me? Tell me the way.”

Then the deaf man, replying, “Don’t say that another time,” beat the man with the goad, and the man having received the blows went away.

Afterwards, the deaf man’s wife having brought cooked rice to the field, he unfastened the cattle which had been ploughing, and while he was eating said to the woman, “A man came just now, and saying, ‘Whose is the yoke of bulls?’ quarrelled with me about them.”

The woman replied, “Through seeking firewood and water and vegetables, and cooking, I was a little late in the day in coming.”

Having quarrelled with him over it, she bounded off, and having gone home, went to the place where her mother was plaiting a mat, and said to her, “Mother, our house man quarrelled with me, saying that I was late in taking the rice.”

The woman said, “Marry thy father! What is it to thee whether my works are good or not good now?” and she quarrelled with her.

The woman having gone to the place where her husband was watching a sweet-potato chena during the day time, on account of thieves uprooting the plants, said, “To-day my daughter having taken cooked rice to the field, and having given it and returned, quarrelled with me, saying that the plaiting of my mat was bad. I also indeed scolded her a great deal, saying, ‘What is it to thee whether my works are good or not good now?’ I have come to tell you about it.”

Then the man said, “Bola, you infamous woman! Because I stopped in the chena you cooked and ate three sweet-potatoes, did you?” and he beat and drove away the woman.

Then saying that it was useless to go on with the chena when his wife was eating the crop, he cut the fence, and abandoned it to the cattle. And the man left the village and the district, and went away.

North-western Province.

The quarrels of deaf persons through misunderstanding each other’s remarks form a common subject of folk-tales. The mistakes of three deaf people are related in Folklore in Southern India (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 3 ff., and Tales of the Sun (Kingscote and N. Sāstrī), p. 1 ff.

The Abbé Dubois published another amusing South Indian variant, which recounted the mistakes of four deaf men (le Pantcha-Tantra, 1872, p. 339 ff.). The four persons in it were a shepherd, a village watchman, a traveller who was riding a stolen horse, and a Brāhmaṇa. The shepherd requested the watchman to look after his flock during his temporary absence. In reply the latter refused to let him have the grass that he had cut. On the shepherd’s return, he offered him a lame lamb as a reward for the trouble he thought the man had taken, but the watchman fancied he was being accused of laming it. They stopped a horseman who was riding past, and asked him to decide their quarrel. In reply, he admitted that the horse was not his. Each thought the decision was against him, and cursed him for it; and while the quarrel was at its height they referred it to a Brāhmaṇa who came up, who replied that it was useless for them to stop him, as he was determined never to return to his wicked wife. “In the crew of devils I defy any one to find one who equals her in wickedness,” he said. The horse-thief, observing men coming in the distance, made off on foot, the shepherd returned to his flock, the watchman, seeing the lamb left, took it home in order to punish the shepherd for his false charge, and the Brāhmaṇa stayed at a rest-house, and went home again next day.

In the Contes Soudanais (W. Africa), by C. Monteil, p. 18 ff., there is a story which resembles both this South Indian one and the Sinhalese one, in part. A shepherd in search of a lost sheep asked a cultivator about it. He replied, “My field begins before me and ends behind me.” The shepherd found the sheep, and offered it to the cultivator in payment for quarters for the night. The latter thought he was being charged with stealing it, and took him before a village headman, who remarked, “Still another story about women! Truly this can’t continue; I shall leave the village.” When he told his wife to accompany him, she said she would never live with a man who was always talking of divorcing her.

No. 15

The Prince and the Yakā

A king of a single city had one son, who was a Prince of five years. At that time, a Yakā1 having settled in that kingdom began to devour the people of the city, and by reason of this the whole city was like to be abandoned. At last, the King and the men of the city, making great efforts, seized the Yakā, and having made an iron house, put him in it, and shut the door.

At that time it became necessary for the King of the city to go to war. After he had gone off to the war, when the King’s son one day had opened the door of the house in which was the man-eating Yakā, and was looking at him, the Yakā fell down, and made obeisance to him, and signifying his misery to the Prince, began to weep. So the Prince, pitying him, told the Yakā to go away. Then the Yakā, saying to the Prince, “It is good. I will assist you, too,” went away.

After he had left, when the Prince had gone home the King who had gone to the war returned, having conquered. When he looked at the room in which the Yakā had been, the door was open. The King asked who had opened the door. The Queen replied that the Prince opened it. Then the King said, “To-morrow I must behead that wicked Prince.”

The Queen, being sorry at this, having tied up a packet of cooked rice, and given it and money to the Prince, and having given him a horse and sword, said, “The King has settled to behead you to-morrow for letting the Yakā escape. Go away at night to any country you like.”

So the Prince, taking the money and the bundle of cooked rice, and the sword, mounted the horse, and set off to go to another country. There was a travellers’ shed at the road along which he was going. As he was unable to go further on account of weariness, he went that night to the travellers’ shed; and having fastened the horse to one of the posts of the shed, he lay down, placing the bundle of rice at his side.

Then seeing a youth running along the road, he called him, and asked, “Boy, where art thou going?”

The boy said, “I am going to a place where they give to eat and to wear.”

Then the Prince said, “I will give you pay. Stop and look after my horse.”

The youth said, “It is good. I will stay.”

The Prince said, “I do not know the fords in this country; therefore tell me of a path by which we can go to another country.”

The youth replied, “There is a river here. On the other side of it there is a city, to go to which there is not a short road from here. However, there is another road further on. By it we must pass over a bridge.”

“If so,” said the Prince, “having bathed here let us go.”

Having seen that three Princesses who were at the city on the other side were bathing, he also was pleased at bathing there. After he had gone to bathe, the three Princesses of the King of the country on the other side, when they looked saw the good figure of this Prince.

After that, as the Prince wished to go after bathing, the youth who was to look after the horse having mounted it, began to ride away, wearing the Prince’s clothes, and taking the sword.

When the Prince, having bathed, and seen the Princesses on the other bank putting on their clothes, came ashore to put on his clothes, on his looking for them there were no clothes, no sword, no horse. The youngest Princess of the three who had bathed on the other side well knew what had happened.

This Prince, having on only his bathing cloth, bounded off, and while running along overtook the horse and youth. When he was still far away, the youth said, “Do not come near me; should you come I will cut you with the sword. If you are willing to look after this horse, take hold of its tail and come.”

Then because that one in any case must go to the city, he said, “It is good,” and having taken hold of the horse’s tail went with him. Going thus from there, they arrived at the city.

It was a custom of the King of that country that, having sent a guard, when any one of the men of another country arrived, he was to write the names of those persons, and come to the King. When these persons arrived, a guard being there asked their names. The youth who came on the horse said, “My name is Mānikka Seṭṭiyā; except the youth who looks after my horse, there is no one else with me.”

The guard having gone, said to the King, “Lord, a person called Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē has come and is there, together with a horse-keeper.”

Then the King thought, “Because the man called Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē has this name, Mānikka, he will be able to value my gem” (mānikya). A gem of the King’s having been taken through the whole country, no one had been able to value it.

So having summoned that Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē, the King, after giving him food and drink, showed him it, and said, “Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē, there is my gem. Can you value it?”

That Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē replied, “My horse-keeper will tell you the value.”

The King became angry because he said, “My horse-keeper will tell you it,” and indignantly caused the horse-keeper to be brought speedily, and asked, “Can you value this?” The horse-keeper Prince said, “If I try hard I can.” Then the King gave it into his hands.

Taking it and weighing it, and learning when he looked at it that there was sand inside the gem, he said, “As it now appears to me, the value of this gem is four sallis” (half-farthings).

The King becoming angry asked, “How do you know?”

The Prince replied, “There is sand inside this gem.”

Then the King asked, “Can you cut it, and show me it?”

The horse-keeper said, “If you will ask for the sword belonging to that Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē, I will cut it and show you it.”

After that, the King gave him the sword that was in the hand of the Seṭṭiyārē. Then the horse-keeper, taking the sword, and remembering the name of his father the King, and thinking, “By the favour of the Gods, if it be appointed that it will happen to me to exercise sovereignty over this city, I must cut this gem like cutting a Kaekiri fruit,” put the gem on the table, and cut it with the sword. Then the sand that was in the gem fell out, making a sound, “Sara sara.”

Afterwards the King, thinking, “When this horse-keeper knows so much, how much doesn’t this Seṭṭirāla know!” having given food and drink to the horse-keeper, and also to the Seṭṭiyārē, and having greatly assisted them, made them stay there a little time.

The youngest Princess well knew the wicked things that this Seṭṭiyārē was saying about the horse-keeper youth. On account of her great sorrow concerning this horse-keeper, the Princess instructed the butler who gave the food at the royal house: “Give the horse-keeper who accompanied that Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē, food like that you prepare for me, and a bed for sleeping on, and assist him a little.”

After that, the butler and the rest helped him. The Prince was unwilling to enjoy that pleasure. “Anē! I am a horse-keeper. Do not you assist me in that way,” he said.

After that, the King’s youngest Princess, for the sake of sending the Prince away from the post of looking after the horse, went to the King, and wept while saying thus: “Anē! Father,2 because of this youth who looks after them, my sheep are nearly finished. On that account, taking the horse-keeper who came with that Seṭṭiyārē, to look after my sheep, let us send the youth who looks after the sheep to look after the horse.”

The King replied, “Having asked the Seṭṭiyārē we can do it.”

The King having asked the Seṭṭiyārē the thing she told him, “You can do it,” he said; and after he had thus spoken to the Seṭṭiyārē it was done. So the horse-keeper went to look after the sheep. Having gone there, while he was looking after them for a long time, the sheep increased in number by hundreds of thousands.

One day, when the King had gone for hunting sport into the midst of the forest, he was seized there by a Yakā. After being seized, he undertook to give the Yakā the King’s three Princesses, and having escaped by undertaking this charge he came back.

Next day he made a proclamation through the whole city by beat of tom-toms. What was it? “Having been seized yesterday in the forest by a Yakā, I only escaped by promising to give him my three Princesses. To-morrow a Princess, on the day after to-morrow a Princess, on the day after that a Princess; in this manner in three days I am giving the three Princesses. If a person who is able to do it should deliver them, having married that person to them, I will appoint him to the kingdom.”

Then Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē said, “I can do it.”

On that day, that Prince who was looking after the sheep went to look after them. While he was there, a man, taking a sheep, ran off into the chena jungle. While bounding after him in order to recover it, having gone very far, the Prince saw him go down the hole of a polangā snake.

After going near the polangā’s hole, and looking down it, and seeing that the hole descended into the earth, the Prince went along that tunnel. Having gone on from there it became dark, and going on in the darkness he saw a very great light. Having gone to the light, when he looked about there was a man asleep, wearing very many clothes.

Then it was in the mind of this shepherd to go away, and in his mind not to go. If you should say, “Who was sleeping there?” it was the Yakā who had formerly been in that iron house, and had left it. That Yakā at that very time saw in a dream that the Prince who had sent him out of that house had come to him, and was there. While seeing him in the dream, the sleeping Yakā awoke, and when he looked up the Prince was beside him.

The Yakā, getting up from there, went to the Prince, and while he was embracing him the Prince became afraid. Then the Yakā said, “Lord, let not Your Majesty be afraid. The Yakā whom you sent away from that house is I indeed.”

After that, the Prince sat down. Then the Yakā asked, “Where are you going?”

The Prince replied, “That I sent you away, our father the King decreed as a fault in me, and appointed that I should be beheaded. Then our mother, having tied up and given me a bundle of cooked rice, told me to go anywhere I wanted.” Having said this he told him all the matter.

After that, the Yakā brought the lost sheep, and having given it to the Prince, asked, “What more do you want?”

The Prince said, “I want another assistance.”

“What is the assistance?” he asked.

The Prince replied, “After I had remained in this way, the King, the father of the Princess who looks after the sheep, and of two more Princesses, having gone hunting and been caught by a Yakā, is giving the three Princesses to him as demon offerings. If there should be a person who can deliver them, he has made proclamation by beat of tom-toms that having given to him the three Princesses in marriage, he will also give him a part of the kingdom.”

The Yakā said, “It is good. I will bring and give you victory in it. Be good enough to do the thing I tell you. After you have eaten rice in the evening, be good enough to come to this palace.” He then allowed the Prince to return home.

The Prince having eaten his rice in good time, went to the Yakā. After he had gone there, the Yakā having given him a good suit of clothes, and a horse, and a sword, instructed him: “As you go from here there will be a path. Having gone along that path, there will be a great rough tree. Go aside at it, and while you are waiting there the Yakā from afar will make a cry, ‘Hū.’ Having come to the middle of the chena jungle he will say again, ‘Hū, Hū, Hū.’ At the next step, having bounded to the place where the Princess is stopping, he will again say, ‘Hū.’ After he has said this, as he comes close to the Princess you will be good enough to step in front. Then the Yakā, becoming afraid, will look in the direction of your face; then be good enough to cut him down with the sword.”

The Prince having gone in that manner to the tree, when he looked about, Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē having climbed aloft was in a fork of the trunk, lamenting, having turned his back. While he was lamenting he saw this Prince coming, and [thinking it was the Yakā], trembled and lost his senses.

Then, in the very manner foretold, the Yakā came, crying and crying out. As he came near the Princess, the Prince cut him down, and having drawn out and cut off his tongue, and also asked for a ring off the hand of the Princess, came away to the palace of the friendly Yakā. Having arrived there, and placed there the clothes, the horse, and the tongue, all of them, he returned to his house before any one arose.

Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē, having descended in the morning, chopped the Yakā’s body into bits, and smeared the blood on his sword. While he was there, the King went in the morning to see if the Princess was dead or alive. Having arrived there, he saw Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē there looking on, and he returned to the city, taking Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē and the Princess.

On the next night, also, they went and tied another Princess. The Prince that night also having gone there, killed a Yakā who came, and cut off the Yakā’s tongue, and after asking for a jewelled ring came away. That time, also, Mānikka Seṭṭiyārē went there, and after smearing blood on his sword remained there. The King went there in the morning, and calling the two persons came away.

On the following day he did the very same to the other Princess. This Prince, having taken away the three jewelled rings that were on the hands of the three Princesses, and the three tongues of the three Yakās that he had cut off, remained silent.

As Mānikka Seṭṭiyā had come falsely smearing blood on his sword each morning, as though he had killed the Yakās, the King sent letters to all royal personages: “Mānikka Seṭṭiyā has cut down three such powerful Yakās, and has delivered the three Princesses who had been devoted to be given as a demon offering to the Yakā who seized me when I went hunting. Because of that, I am giving the three Princesses to him in marriage. You must come to the festival, and look at the Yakās who have been killed.” After that, the royal persons came from those countries.

While they were there, that Prince went to the palace of the friendly Yakā. The Yakā having given that Prince golden clothes, and a golden crown and necklace, and a golden sword, told him to go, taking those rings and tongues, and mounted on a white horse. The Prince putting on those things, and mounting the white horse, went.

When he went to the palace where the royal persons were who had come to fulfil the object of the occasion, those royal persons became afraid, and having made obeisance to him, asked, “Lord, where is Your Majesty going?”

“ ‘I have cut down a very powerful sort of Yakā.’ Letters went through foreign countries to this effect, and that there is a marriage festival for the person who killed the Yakā. On account of the news I also have come to look,” he said.

After that, those royal persons said, “It is good, Lord,” and with pleasure showed him the heads of the Yakās.

Then this Prince asked, “Is there or is there not a tongue to every living being whatever?”

Every one said, “Yes, there is one.”

The Prince having looked for the tongues in the mouths of the Yakās, asked, “What is this, that there are not tongues for these Yakās?”

After that, every one asked it of Mānikka Seṭṭiyā. Mānikka Seṭṭiyā being afraid, remained without speaking.

Then he asked it of the two eldest Princesses. The two Princesses said, “We do not know.”

At the time when he was asking it of the youngest Princess, she replied, seizing the hand of the Prince who split off the tongues and took the jewelled rings, “This one went away after taking in his hand the ring, and cutting off the tongue of the Yakā.” After that, the Prince brought to light the three rings and the three tongues, and showed them.

Speedily having beheaded and cast out Mānikka Seṭṭiyā, they carried out the wedding festival of the marriage of the three Princesses to the Prince. After that, those royal personages went to their own kingdoms, and the kingdom having been bestowed on this Prince he remained there ruling it.

North-western Province.

In the Jātaka story No. 510 (vol. iv, p. 305), an iron house was built, in which a King’s son was confined for sixteen years in order to preserve him from a female Yakā who had carried off two children born previously. The demon was unable to break into it.

In the Jātaka story No. 513 (vol. v, p. 13), there is an account of a King who was seized by an Ogre while hunting. The latter allowed the King to go home on a promise to come back next day to be eaten. His heroic son returned in his place, but was spared by the Ogre. The Prince said of these beings, “The eyes of Ogres are red, and do not wink. They cast no shadow, and are free from all fear.”

1 In these stories the Yakās are always evil spirits or demons. ↑

2 Piyānan-wahansē. ↑

No. 16

How a Yakā and a Man fought

In a certain country three men went shooting,1 it is said. At the time when the three persons were going, one man was obliged to go aside for a certain purpose. The man went aside without telling those two men.

A Yakā saw the man separate from those two persons. Having seen it, the Yakā seized the man, and began to push against him. At that time those two men were very distant. The men having said, “What has happened to this man?” came to look for him. When they came [they saw that] there was a black one near the man. The two persons spoke together, “Let us shoot this black one.” So they shot1 him. Then the black one went out of the way.

Afterwards the men went to look near at hand. When they went the man had fallen. After that, having taken hold of the man and raised him, when they looked at him the man’s body having gone quite slimy he was unconscious also.

Afterwards, while the two men, raising [and carrying] that man, were [endeavouring] to come away, the Yakā did not allow them to come. He shakes the bushes; he breaks the trees; he blocked up the path all along. One man of the two men looked upward. Then the Yakā spit into the man’s eye, and the man’s eye became blind.

Well then, the two men having uttered and uttered spells, with pain lifting up [and carrying] that man, came to the village. Having come there, and summoned a Yaksa Vedarāla2 to restore the man to consciousness, when he arrived they showed him this man. Then the Yaksa Vedarāla told them to warm a large pot of water. So they warmed the water. After that, having bathed the man, and having uttered spells, after the Vedarāla had tied protective written spells and diagrams3 on him the man became conscious.

After that, the Yaksa Vedarāla and those two men asked about the circumstances that had occurred. The man said, “A Yakā having come, seizing me pressed against me for me to roll over on to the ground. What of that? I did not fall [on account of it]. After you two fired, indeed, I fell. Then the Yakā bounded off, and went away. Well, I don’t know anything after that. Whether you came and lifted me up, or what, I do not know.”

The man having recovered from that, again the Yakā came, and having possessed the man he began to have the powers conferred by “possession.”4 Afterwards that Yaksa Vedarāla having come again, and given the Yakā many offerings placed on frames (dola piḍēni), the Yakā went out of the way. The man remained very well [afterwards].

North-western Province.

1 The word used indicates the use of guns, and not bows and arrows. ↑

2 A Vedarāla (medical practitioner) or another man who knows the spells and magical practices which have power over demons. ↑

3 Ārakshā baendalā. ↑

4 Ē minihāṭa waehilā, māyan wenḍa paṭangattā. ↑

No. 17

Concerning a Man and Two Yakās

In a certain country there was a man who had cut a chena. The man, without any one joining with him, went one day and made ready to cut a fresh chena at a place where there was a large tree.

Then the Yakā who dwelt in the tree became afraid, and having descended to the ground, and having said, “Lord, do not cut a chena here. At every eventide I will bring and give you rice, coconuts, chillies, etc.,” he made obeisance. The man said, “It is good,” and went home.

That very evening the Yakā brought and gave him rice and all things sufficient for curries, and went away. After that, in no long time the man became in a good position and wealthy, through the Yakā’s bringing him his provisions.

When coming afterwards, the Yakā met another Yakā, who asked, “Where are you taking those things?”

The Yakā replied, “A man came to cut the residence in which I stay. On account of it, I promised to give him food and goods.”

Then the Yakā said, “Do thou give the things to-day only. I will kill the man to-morrow.”

The other Yakā said, “It is good.”

On the following day, when the man of that house was going somewhere or other, the Yakā who said, “I will kill him,” came to the house, and having crept under the bed remained there. At that time the man returned, and sitting on the bed, said to his wife, “Bola, I am hungry enough to eat a Yakā.”

His wife had placed the knife on the shelf, and having plucked a pine-apple had put it under the bed. The woman [not seeing the Yakā], said, “Look there! On the shelf. Look there! Under the bed.”

So the man, taking the knife that was on the shelf, went near the bed to get the pine-apple. Then the Yakā, thinking he was coming to kill and eat him, said, “Lord, do not eat me. I will bring and give you each month anything you want.”

So the man saying, “It is good,” sent away the Yakā.

Then the Yakā met that other Yakā, and said, “When I went to set you free I also was caught. Both of us are in the same state.”

After that he gave the things monthly. Then this man having become a great wealthy person, remained so.

North-western Province.

In a variant in Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), pp. 258–260, a barber frightened a Bhūta (evil spirit) who was going to eat him, by threatening to put him in his bag. He took out his looking-glass, and showed the Bhūta his reflection, which the evil spirit thought was another imprisoned one. The Bhūta promised to obey the barber’s orders, and provided money, and a granary filled with paddy. The Bhūta’s uncle told him that he had been cheated; but he was treated in the same way, and made to build another granary, and fill it with rice.

No. 18

The Three Questions1

In a certain country, as a man was going through the middle of a city he met a man of the city, and asked him, “In what manner does the King of this city rule?”

The man said, “It does not appear to us that he has any fault.”

Then the man said [sarcastically]: “Does the King of this city know these three matters—the centre of this country, the number of the stars in the sky, and the work which the King of the world of the Dēvas2 does?” Having asked this, that wicked man went through the midst of the city.

Afterwards, the man of the city came to the palace, and declared to the King that there were three matters regarding which a man had wanted information. After he had informed him, the King asked, “What are the three matters?”

The man said, “The centre of the country, the number of the stars in the sky, and the work which the King of the world of the Dēvas does; these three matters,” he said.

Then the King, having caused the Raṭēmahatmayās—(the highest provincial Chiefs)—to be told that he ordered them to come, after he had asked them concerning these three matters, the Chiefs said that they could not tell him the answers. When they said that, the king commanded that the Raṭēmahatmayās should be beheaded. Thereupon the executioners came and beheaded them.

After that, he caused the Adikāramas—(the Ministers)—to be brought, and asked them if they knew these three matters. Those persons also said that they could not explain them. He commanded that party also to be beheaded, and the executioners came and beheaded them.

Having beheaded all the people of both parties, there remained still the Royal Preceptor3 only, so he caused the Royal Preceptor to be brought, and asked him regarding these matters. Then the Royal Preceptor said, “I cannot tell you about them to-day. I will tell you to-morrow.” After he had said this he returned to his house, and having come there, lying down prone on the bed he remained without speaking a word.

The youth who looked after the Royal Preceptor’s goats came at that time, and asked, “For what reason are you lying down, Sir?”

The Royal Preceptor said, “They beheaded the Adikārama party and the Raṭēmahatmayā party to-day; they will behead me to-morrow. The post that I have told thee of [under the executioner] will be made over to one’s self.”

The youth said, “Lord, you must tell me the reasons for it.”

The Royal Preceptor replied, “If I should be unable to-morrow to say which is the centre of the country, the number of the stars, and the work which the God of the world of the Dēvas does, they will behead me to-morrow.”

Then the youth said, “Are you so much troubled about that? I will say those very things for you.”

Afterwards, at the time when the Royal Preceptor, on the morning of the following day, was setting off to go to the palace, he called the youth, and went with him to the palace. The King asked for the answers to these three sayings. Then the Royal Preceptor said, “What is there in these for me to tell you? Even the youth who looks after the goats for me knows those three sayings.” Then he told the youth to come forward, and the youth came near the King.

The King asked, “Dost thou know the centre of the country, and the number of the stars, and the work which the God of the world of the Dēvas does?”

The youth fixed a stick in the ground, and showed it. “Behold! Here is the centre of one’s country. Measure from the four quarters, and after you have looked at the account, if it should not be correct be good enough to behead me,” he said. The King lost over that.

Then he told him to say the number of the stars in the sky. Throwing down on the ground the goat-skin that he was wearing, “Count these hairs, and count the stars in the sky. Should they not be equal be good enough to behead me,” he said. The King lost over that also.

Thirdly, he told him to say what work the God of the world of the Dēvas does.

The youth said, “I will not say it thus.”

The King asked, “If so, how will you say it?”

The youth said, “Should you decorate me with the Royal Insignia, and put on me the Crown, and give the Sword into my hands, and place me on the Lion-throne, I will say it.”

Then the King, having caused that youth to bathe, and having decorated him, placed him upon the Lion-throne.

After that, he called the executioners, and said to them, “Aḍē! This one beheaded so many [innocent] people; because of that take him and go, and having beheaded him, cast him out. Behold! That indeed is the work which the King of the world of the Dēvas does,” he said.

Thus, having killed the foolish King, the youth who looked after the goats obtained the sovereignty; and ruling the kingdom together with the Royal Preceptor, he remained there in prosperity.

North-western Province.

The dramatic, and apparently improbable, ending of this Kandian story is founded upon an historical fact. It is recorded in the Mahāvansa, the Sinhalese history (Part I, chapter 35), that King Yasalālaka-Tissa, who reigned in Ceylon from 52 to 60 A.D., had a young gate porter or messenger called Subha, who closely resembled him in appearance. The Mahāvansa relates the story of the King’s deposition by him as follows (Turnour’s translation):—

“The monarch Yasalālaka, in a merry mood, having decked out the said Subha, the messenger, in the vestments of royalty, and seated him on the throne, putting the livery bonnet of the messenger on his own head, stationed himself at a palace gate, with the porter’s staff in his hand. While the ministers of state were bowing down to him who was seated on the throne, the King was enjoying the deception.

“He was in the habit, from time to time, of indulging in these scenes. On a certain occasion (when this farce was repeated), addressing himself to the merry monarch, the messenger exclaimed: ‘How does that messenger dare to laugh in my presence?’ and succeeded in getting the King put to death. The messenger Subha thus usurped the sovereignty, and administered it for six years.”

A variant was related to me by the resident monk at a Buddhist temple to the south of Colombo. Its tenour was as follows:—

The Four Difficult Questions.

A certain King put four questions to a Sangha-raja, or Superior of the Buddhist monks. The first one was, “How deep is the sea?” the second, “How many stars are there?” the third, “Which is the centre of the earth?” and fourthly, he must tell the King what he, the King, thought. The Sangha-raja was allowed a certain time in which to find answers to the questions.

One day a monk seeing him sad, asked him the reason, and was told that the King had put these questions to him, and had threatened to take his life if he could not answer them.

The monk told him not to have any fear, and said that he would go on the appointed day, and answer the King. When the day came round, the monk dressed himself in the Sangha-raja’s robes, and appeared before the King, saying that he was ready to answer the questions.

The King asked him, “How deep is the sea?” He replied, “At first it is knee-deep; as you go on it is waist-deep; further on it is up to the neck; and beyond that it is over the head.” The King was satisfied.

He next asked, “How many stars are there?” “Twenty lakshas (two millions),” said the monk. “If you do not believe it, count them.” With this answer, also, the King was satisfied.

He then inquired, “Where is the centre of the earth?” The monk took a staff which he had brought with him, and fixed it upright in the ground. “Here is the centre,” he said. “Measure each way from it, and you will find the distance the same.” The King was satisfied with this answer also.

“Lastly, you must tell me what I am thinking,” the King said. The monk replied, “You think I am the Sangha-raja, but I am only one of his monks.” So the four questions were all answered satisfactorily.

I heard the following version in Cairo:—

A certain King said to his Chief Minister, “Find me a man who can measure the world and show me the centre of it, and who can count me the number of the stars.”

The Minister considered the matter carefully, but could think of no way of complying with the King’s orders. At last his wife said, “I can see that something is troubling you. Tell me what it is; perhaps I can assist you.” Then he told her the orders of the King, and that he did not know where to look for any one who could do what the King desired. “Go,” she said, “to the coffee-dealer’s shop. You will find there a man who is always taking hashish. He may be able to help you” [his mental powers being exalted by the drug].

So he went to the coffee-dealer’s, and told the hashish-eater his difficulty. “I can soon solve these questions for you,” replied the hashish-eater. “Take me to the King.”

Thereupon they proceeded to the palace, and the Minister introduced the hashish-eater to the King. He came with a donkey, which was drawing a great load of rope.

“First show me the centre of the world,” said the King.

“This place is the centre,” said the hashish-eater. “If you doubt it, send your men to drag the other end of this rope up to the sky, and I will prove to you that you are just in the middle.”

“Very well,” said the King, “that is a satisfactory answer. Now give me the number of the stars.”

“Let your people count the hairs on my donkey. You will find that they are exactly equal to the stars in number,” said the man. The King admitted that he could not prove that he was answered incorrectly.

The English version is given in the ballad termed “King John and the Abbot of Canterbury,” and is found in Bishop Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (ed. 1844, ii, 328). I give some extracts, etc., for the benefit of readers in Ceylon, because of its resemblance to the second Sinhalese story.

With a view to seizing the Abbot’s wealth, the King put three questions to him, the penalty for failing to answer them being beheading. The Abbot received three weeks’ grace in which to discover the replies, but the wisest doctors could not assist him:

Away rode the Abbot all sad at that word;

And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenforde;

But never a doctor there was so wise,

That could with his learning an answer devise.

However, as in the Kandian version, the shepherd came to his assistance, and took his place on the appointed day, robed as the Abbot, whose features resembled his, and accompanied by the usual train of servants and monks.

Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say,

’Tis well thou’rt come back to keepe thy day;

For and if thou canst answer my questions three,

Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.

And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,

With my crown of golde so fair on my head,

Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe,

Tell me to one penny what I am worth.

“For thirty pence our Saviour was sold

Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told;

And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,

For I thinke, thou are one penny worser than hee.”

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,

I did not think I had been worth so littel!

—Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,

How soone I may ride this whole world about.

“You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,

Until the next morning he riseth againe;

And then your grace need not make any doubt,

But in twenty-four hours you’ll ride it about.”

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,

I did not think, it could be gone so soone!

—Now from the third question thou must not shrinke,

But tell me here truly what I do thinke.

“Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry:

You thinke I’m the abbot of Canterbury;

But I’m his poor shepheard, as plain you may see,

That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee.”

The king he laughed, and swore by the masse,

Ile make thee lord abbot this day in his place!

“Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede,

For alacke I can neither write, ne reade.”

Four nobles a weeke, then, I will give thee,

For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee;

And tell the old abbot when thou comest home,

Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John.

1 The Sinhalese title is, “The manner in which the Youth who looked after the Goats became King.” ↑

2 Inferior Gods, ruled by Indra. ↑

3 Rāja Gurunnānsē, probably the Purōhita Brāhmaṇa, the King’s spiritual adviser. ↑

No. 19

The Faithless Princess

In a certain country there is a Prince, it is said. The Prince, saying that women are faithless, does not marry.

The God Śakra having ascertained this, came in the appearance of a man, and asked at the hand of the Prince whether if he created a Princess out of his own very body, and gave her to him, he would be willing to take her in marriage. The Prince said, “It is good.”

Afterwards the God Śakra created a Princess from the Prince’s body, and gave her to him.

When the Prince and Princess, having got married, had been living together for a very long time, the Princess associated with a Nāgayā.1 When they had been thus for a long time, the Princess and the Nāgayā spoke together as to how to kill the Princess’s Prince. Then the Nāgayā said, “Ask at the hand of the Prince where the Prince’s death is. After you have got to know the place where his death is, I will bite2 him there.”

After that, the Princess asked at the hand of the Prince, “Where is your death?” The Prince did not tell her. Every day the Princess was asking it. On a certain day the Prince said, “To-day my death is in my thumb.”

Then the Princess told the Nāgayā, “He said that his death is in his thumb.”

So the Nāgayā went [in his snake form, as a cobra], and stopped on the path on which the Prince was going for his bath, in order to bite2 him.

Afterwards, the Prince’s people went first; the Prince went in the middle. Then the people who went first saw the Nāgayā, and killed it.

Afterwards, the people and the Prince having returned from bathing, the Prince told at the hand of the Princess, “As we were going to bathe to-day a cobra was on the path; my people killed it.” The Princess, clasping her hands with grief, asked, “Where was it?” The Prince told her of the place where the cobra was staying, and she knew that it was the Nāgayā.

Afterwards the Princess having given gold to the goldsmith, and having got a waist-chain made, told him to make a case for it. The goldsmith made it, and gave it. Then the Princess went to the place where the cobra was, and cut off its hood; and placing the cobra in the case of the golden waist-chain, the Princess put it round her waist.

Having it there, when they had eaten and drunk in the evening, and lighted the lamp in the house, both of them went into the house.

Then the Princess said to the Prince, “I will ask you a riddle. Should you be unable to explain it, I will kill you. Should you explain it, you shall kill me.”

The Prince said “Hā,” and both of them swore it.

The Princess saying,

The Nāga belt

(Is) the golden waist-chain.

Explain (it), friend.

Nāga paṭiya

Ran hawaḍiya.

Tōra, sakiya.

told the Prince to solve it. For fifteen pāēyas (six hours), without extinguishing the lamp, he tried and tried to explain it. He could not. So she was to kill the Prince next day.

A Dēvatāwā (godling) who drank the smoke of the lamp of that house, was there looking on [invisibly] until the lamp was extinguished. After the lamp was put out, having drunk a little smoke, he took a little that was only slightly burnt with him for his wife. The Dēvatāwā and Dēvatāwī lived in an Ironwood tree on the roadside.

This Prince’s elder sister, and the man to whom she was given in marriage, having set off to come to the Prince’s city, stayed that night at the resting-place under the Ironwood tree.

Then that Dēvatāwā having brought a little of the under-burnt smoke of the lamp, after he had given it to the Dēvatāwī she quarrelled with him until fifteen pāēyas (six hours) had gone, saying, “Where have you been?”

The Dēvatāwā said, “Do not quarrel. In such and such a city, such and such a Prince’s Princess having associated with a Nāgayā, the Prince’s people killed the Nāgayā. Having cut off the Nāgayā’s hood, and laid aside her golden waist-chain, putting it round her waist in order to kill the Prince, because of her anger at the killing of the Nāgayā, the Princess told a riddle to the Prince. Having sworn that should the Prince be unable to solve it she is to kill the Prince: should he solve it he is to kill the Princess, the Princess said,

The Nāga belt

Is the golden waist-chain.

Explain it, friend.

“From the evening, without extinguishing the lamp, he tried to solve it. The Prince could not explain it. After fifteen pāēyas had gone by, he put out the light. Up to the very time when he extinguished the lamp, so long I remained there. She said that she will kill the Prince to-morrow.”

Hearing it, there stayed below the Ironwood tree the Prince’s elder sister, and the man to whom she was given. After having heard it, as it became light, when they were coming along to the Prince’s house, they saw from afar that they were going to behead the Prince. The elder sister said from afar, “Ā! Don’t behead him. I will solve that riddle.”

Having come near, the Prince’s elder sister explained the riddle in the manner stated by the Dēvatāwā. So the Prince was saved, and they beheaded the Princess.

North-western Province.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 227, a Fakīr split a King, and made a wife for him from half his body, but warned him that she would be unfaithful. She fell in love with one of his wazīrs, but they were detected, and she was killed.

1 A supernatural being who could take at will either a human form or the shape of a cobra (nayā or nāga). ↑

2 Dohṭa karanawā = Dashṭa k., to give a poisonous bite. ↑

No. 20

The Prince who did not go to School

In a certain country there is a King, it is said, and there are two Princes of the King. The two Princes are sent to school, and as they are going from the palace the two go along together. After they have walked a little way, the younger brother goes along the path to the school, and having arrived at the school, learns his letters and returns home. The elder brother, after playing and playing in the water of the river, puts the school aside, it is said; and having come round that way and joined the younger brother, again comes to the palace with him.

After many days had gone by in that manner, the King one day told the two Princes, “To-day I must look at your lessons.”

The younger brother said, “Father-King, I indeed go to the school, and having said my lessons return. Elder brother and I having met here, and set off together, after we have gone part of the way, where elder brother goes I do not know. Having gone somewhere or other, when I have left the school and am returning, elder brother meets me on the road, and we two come again to the palace. I can say my lessons; elder brother indeed cannot.”

After that, the King looked into the lessons of the two Princes. When he looked, the younger Prince’s lessons were good. When he asked the elder Prince, he knew nothing. So the King settled to behead the elder Prince.

The King had, besides, a Prince older than that Prince. He said to that elder Prince, “Behead this one.”

Then the Prince having taken a sword to the chena jungle, and killed a “Blood-sucker” lizard (Calotes sp.), returned after rubbing the blood on the sword, and showed it to the King. “Behold! Father-King, I cut younger brother,” he said. Afterwards their mother having cooked a bundle of rice, and given it, and also a sword, to the Prince who was ordered to be beheaded, said, “Go to any place you like.”

As the Prince was going away taking the bundle of cooked rice and the sword, he met with a man. The man having uprooted Palmira trees and Coconut trees, was taking them away and tying a fence. Having seen this, the Prince said to that man, “Come thou and go with me.”

The man having said “Hā,” as the two persons were going along together, another man was cutting the earthen ridges in a rice field. The blade of the man’s digging hoe was as large as a liyadda (one of the squares into which the rice field was divided). Having seen that, the Prince said to that man who was cutting the ridge in the field, “Come thou and go with me.”

The man having said “Hā,” and laid down his digging hoe at that very place, came away with those two persons. As the three were going along together, they saw yet a man ploughing. Having seen that the man ploughed a liyadda at one ploughing (furrow), the Prince said, “Come thou and go with me.” The man said “Hā,” and laying down his plough at that very place, went with the three persons. The three persons whom the Prince had met with on the way were three giants.

The four persons having gone on and on, went near the house of a Rākshasī at a city. Sitting down there, the Prince said to one of the giants, “There! Go to that house and bring thou cooking pots and fire.” So that giant went to the house of the Rākshasī.

As he arrived there, the Rākshasī was pouring water over (i.e. bathing) a child. The giant went near the Rākshasī, and said, “Anē! Give me fire and cooking pots.” The Rākshasī told him the way to the house in which she ate human flesh, and said, “There! They are in that house; take them.” After that, at the time when the giant was going into the house, the Rākshasī went running and shut the door, so that the giant could not come out.

Those two giants and the Prince remained a long time looking out; the giant did not come. Afterwards the Prince again told a giant to go. The giant having gone, asked the Rākshasī, “Didn’t a man come here?”

The Rākshasī said, “He did not come here.”

Then the giant said, “If so, give me cooking pots and fire.” Then the Rākshasī, in the same manner in which she told that giant, showed him the way to the house in which she ate human flesh. As the giant was going into the house, the Rākshasī, having gone running, shut the door.

That Prince and the third giant having been there a long time, neither of the giants came. Afterwards the Prince told the other giant to go. The giant went, and asked the Rākshasī, “Didn’t two men come here?”

The Rākshasī said, “They did not come here.”

So the giant said, “If so, give me cooking pots and fire.” The Rākshasī, in that very way having told him the path to the house in which she ate human flesh, at the time when the giant was going into it shut the door.

The Prince remained looking out for a long time; the three giants did not come. Afterwards the Prince, taking his sword, came near the Rākshasī, and asked, “Didn’t three men come here?”

The Rākshasī said, “They did not come here.”

Then the Prince, seizing the Rākshasī’s hair knot, prepared to chop at her with the sword. “Give me quickly my three men; if not, I shall chop thy head off,” he said.

Then the Rākshasī, saying, “Anē! Do not kill me. At any place where you want it I will assist you,” gave him the three men.

After that, the Prince and the three giants having gone away without killing the Rākshasī, the Prince caused the three giants to stay at a city; and having given into their hands a Blue-lotus flower, said, “Should I not be alive, this Blue-lotus flower will fade, and the lime trees at your house will die.” So saying, the Prince, taking his sword, went quite alone.

After going a long way he came to a city, and having gone to the house of a Rākshasa, when he looked, the Rākshasa had gone for human flesh as food and only a girl was there. The Prince asked the girl for a resting-place.

The girl said, “Anē! What have you come here for? A Rākshasa lives at this house. The Rākshasa having eaten the men of this city they are now finished.”

The Prince said, “I will kill him. Are there dried coconuts and menēri1 here?” The girl said there were. The Prince told her to bring them, and the girl brought them.

Then the Prince asked, “How does he come to eat men?”

The girl said, “Having come twelve miles—(three gawwas)—away, he cries, ‘Hū’; having come eight miles away, he cries, ‘Hū’; and having come four miles away, he cries, ‘Hū’; and then he comes to this house.”

After that, the Prince having spread out, from the stile at the fence, the menēri seed and the dried coconuts, over the whole of the open ground near the front of the house, went to sleep in the veranda, placing the sword near him, and laying his head on the waist pocket of the girl.

Then the Rākshasa, when twelve miles away, cried, “Hū.” Tears fell from the girl’s eyes, and dropped on the Prince’s head. The Prince arose, and said to the girl, “What are you weeping for?”

Then the Rākshasa cried, “Hū,” eight miles away. The girl said, “There! The Rākshasa cried, ‘Hū,’ eight miles away.” Continuing to say, “He will cry, ‘Hū,’ the next time, and then come here,” the girl wept.

The Prince, having told the girl not to weep, took the sword in his hand, and while he was there the Rākshasa, crying “Hū,” came into the open space near the house.

Then the Prince chopped at the Rākshasa with his sword, and the Rākshasa went backward. Thereupon the Prince said, “Will not even the Rākshasī whom I set free that day without killing her, render assistance in this?”

The Rākshasī came immediately, and struck a thorn into the crown of the Rākshasa’s head, and at that very instant the Rākshasa died. After that, the Prince buried the body, and marrying the girl remained there.

When he had been there a long time, a widow-mother came and said to the Prince and the girl, “Children, I will come and live with you, as you are alone.” Both of them said “Hā,” so the woman stayed there.

After she had lived there a long time, the woman said to the girl, “Daughter, ask in what place is the life of the Prince.”

Afterwards the girl said to the Prince, “Mother is asking where your life is.”

The Prince said, “My life is in my neck.”

The girl told the woman, “I asked him; he said his life is in his neck.”

The woman said, “It is not in the neck. He is speaking falsely. Ask again.” So the girl asked again.

The Prince said, “My life is in my breast.”

The girl told the woman, “He said it is in his breast.”

The woman said, “It is not in the breast. Tell him to speak the truth.”

Afterwards she said again to the Prince, “Mother says it is not in your breast. She said that you are to speak the truth.”

Then the Prince said, “My life is in my sword.”

So the girl told the widow-mother, “He said it is in his sword.”

When a long time had gone by, one day the Prince, laying down the sword, went to sleep. After the Prince had gone to sleep, the widow woman and that girl having quietly taken the sword, put it in the fire on the hearth. Then as the sword burnt and burnt away the Prince died.

After that, the widow woman took the girl, and gave her to the King, and the woman also stayed at the palace.

Then the Blue-lotus flower which the Prince gave to those three giants on going away, faded, and the lime trees died. When the giants saw this they said, “Aḍē! Our elder brother will have died,” and having spoken together, the three giants came to seek the Prince.

Having come there, and asked the men of the city at which the Prince stayed, regarding him, they went to the house in which he lived, and searched for him. As they were digging in a heap of rubbish, they found that a little bit of the end of the sword was there, and they took it. Afterwards the giants placed it on a bed, and after they had tended it carefully, the sword little by little became larger. When the sword became completely restored, the Prince was created afresh.

Afterwards, when the Prince looked to see if the girl whom he had taken in marriage was there, neither the girl nor the widow-mother was there. Then the Prince went with the three giants to the King’s palace, and on looking there they learnt that the girl was married to the King, and that the widow woman also was there. So the Prince said to the widow woman, “Quickly give me the Princess whom I married.”

The woman said, “Anē! The Princess whom I knew is not here. She did not come with me.”

Then the Prince cut off the woman’s head with his sword, and having gone to the King, asked, “Where is my Princess? You must give her to me.”

The King said, “No Princess will be here.”

Thereupon the Prince cut off the King’s head with his sword; and he and the three giants having cut down all the servants who were in the palace, summoning the Princess, remained in that very palace.

North-western Province.

The giving a plant or flower as a life index, which fades when illness or danger besets the giver, and dies at his death, is a very common incident in folk-tales.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 52—Tales of the Punjab (Steel), p. 47—it was a barley plant.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 189, a Prince planted a tree as his life index, and said, “When you see the tree green and fresh then you know that it is well with me; when you see the tree fade in some parts, then you know that I am in an ill case; and when you see the whole tree fade, then know that I am dead and gone.”

In Totā Kahānī (Small), p. 43, when a man was about to leave his wife, she gave him a nosegay of flowers which would retain their freshness if she were faithful to him, and fade if she misconducted herself.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. xvii, p. 54, a plant was given to each of two persons, as a Prince’s life index. He said, “If this plant should fade, know that I am sick or in danger; if it should die know that I also am dead.”

The notion that a person’s life may be concealed in some external object, usually a bird or a bee, is one of the commonest features of folk-tales.

In the story numbered 24 in this volume, the King’s life was in a golden parrot.

In Wide-Awake Stories, p. 59—Tales of the Punjab, p. 52—a Jinni’s life was in a bee, which was in a golden cage inside the crop (?) of a Maina [bird].

At pp. 62, 63, Tales of the Punjab, p. 55, a Prince’s life was in his sword. When this was placed in the fire he felt a burning fever, and when it was made red-hot and a rivet came out of the hilt, his head came off. Afterwards, when the sword was repaired and repolished, the Prince was restored to life.

At p. 83, Tales of the Punjab, p. 75, the life of a Princess was in a nine-lakh necklace, which was in a box inside a bee that lived in the body of a fish. When asked about it, she first said that her life was in each of the seven sons of the wicked Queen who wanted to kill her, all of whom were murdered by the Queen.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 49, the lives of Rākshasas were in seven cocks, a spinning-wheel, a pigeon, and a starling.

At p. 134, the life of one was in a veranda pillar at his house; when it was broken he died.

At p. 383, the life of one was in a queen-bee in a honey-comb hanging on a tree.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), pp. 2 and 6, the life of a Prince was in a golden necklace deposited in a wooden box which was in the heart of a fish.

At pp. 85 and 86, the lives of seven hundred Rākshasas were in two bees which were on the top of a crystal pillar, deep in the water of a tank. If a drop of their blood fell on the ground, a thousand Rākshasas would start up from it.

At p. 121, the life of a Rākshasī was in a bird that was in a cage. As its limbs were torn off, a corresponding limb dropped off the Rākshasī who had been made the Queen.

At p. 253, the lives of two Rākshasas (m. and f.) were in two bees that were in a wooden box at the bottom of a tank. If a person who killed them allowed a drop of their blood to fall on the ground, he would be torn into seven hundred pieces by the Rākshasas.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. i, p. 86, in a Dardu legend (G. W. Leitner), the life of a King of Gilgit was in snow, and he could only die by fire.

At p. 117, in a Bengal story (G. H. Damant), the lives of Rākshasas were in two bees in a gourd which was inside a crystal pillar at the bottom of a tank. If one drop of the bees’ blood fell on the ground, the Rākshasas would be twice as numerous as before. The bees were killed by being squeezed to death.

At p. 171, in a Bengal story (G. H. Damant), the lives of Rākshasas were in a lemon, and a bird. When the lemon was cut in Bengal, the Rākshasas in Ceylon died. As the bird’s wings were broken, the Rākshasī Queen’s arms were broken; when the bird died, she died.

In vol. xvi, p. 191, the life of a giant was in a parrot; when it was killed he died.

In vol. xvii, p. 51, a Prince’s life was in a sword; if it rusted he was sick, and if it broke he died.

In Folk-Tales of Hindustan, Allahabad (Shaik Chilli), p. 51, the life of a Prince was in the brightness of his sword. When it was placed in a furnace and lost the brightness, he died. A giant who was his friend found it, and discovering that a little brightness remained at the tip, rubbed it until it regained its lustre, on which the Prince revived.

At p. 114, the lives of Rākshasas were in a number of birds; they died when these were killed.

In a tale of the interior of W. Africa in Contes Soudanais (C. Monteil), p. 154, the life of a King was in a little box inside a small goat-skin, which was in a little pot placed inside a large pot. When the King was told this he died.

Doubtless this strange notion of a life safeguarded by being hidden away, is of early date, and may be due originally to the early magical idea prevalent in Egypt, Assyria, and India, that a person might be killed from any distance by piercing the heart of a figurine formed to represent him. This action is mentioned in the Commentary on the Atharva Veda (Bloomfield’s translation, p. 359); and in the Rigveda, i, 29, 7 (Griffith’s translation), prayer is made to Indra for the destruction of “him who in secret injures us.”

In the Jātaka story No. 208 (vol. ii, p. 111), a monkey escaped from a crocodile that was going to kill it in order to get its heart, by telling it that monkeys kept their hearts hanging on trees.

In the Mahā Bhārata, Vana Parva, 135, 52, a Ṛishi caused buffaloes to shatter a mountain, and thereby killed a child whose life was dependent on its existence, if not supposed to be actually in it.

The recovery of the three giants from the house of the Rākshasī is evidently based on the story of Wijaya, the first King of Ceylon, and Kuwēnī, a female Yakkha or aboriginal Princess, who, taking the form of a devotee, had captured his followers one by one, and imprisoned them.

The story is given in the Mahāvansa, chapter vii, as follows:—“All these persons not returning, Wijaya becoming alarmed, equipping himself with the five weapons of war, proceeded after them; and examining the delightful pond [to which they had gone to bathe], he could perceive footsteps leading down only into the tank; and he there saw the devotee. It occurred to him: ‘My retinue must surely have been seized by her.’ ‘Woman, hast thou seen my attendants?’ said he. ‘Prince,’ she replied, ‘what need hast thou of attendants? Do drink and bathe ere thou departest.’ Saying to himself, ‘Even my lineage, this Yakkhinī is acquainted with it,’ proclaiming his title, and quickly seizing his bow, he rushed at her. Securing the Yakkhinī by the throat with a ‘nārācana’ ring, with his left hand seizing her by the hair, and raising his sword with his right hand, he exclaimed, ‘Slave! restore me my followers, or I will put thee to death.’ The Yakkhinī, terrified, implored that her life might be spared. ‘Lord! spare my life; on thee I will confer this sovereignty; unto thee I will render the favours of my sex, and every other service according to thy desire.’ In order that she might not prove herself treacherous, he made the Yakkhinī take an oath. While he was in the act of saying, ‘Instantly produce my followers,’ she brought them forth” (Mahāvansa, i, p. 32).

The idea of the thorn which was driven into the head of the Rākshasa, is borrowed from magical practice. In the case of a figurine made for the destruction or injury of a person, pins or nails or thorns were run into various parts of the body, one being inserted in the crown of the head. In a variant of the story numbered 73 in this work, a female Yakā was kept in subjection by means of an iron nail that was driven into the crown of the head.

In Indian Fairy Tales (Stokes), p. 12, a pin was fixed in the head of a woman who had been transformed into a bird. When it was drawn out she resumed her human form.

In The Illustrated Guide to the South Indian Railway, 1900, p. 232, it is stated regarding the great stone Bull, 12 feet high, at the Tanjore temple, that “it was popularly supposed by the natives that this bull was growing, and as they feared it might become too large for the mandapam [stone canopy] erected over it a nail was driven into the back of its head, and since this was done the size of the monolith has remained stationary.”

1 Panicum sp., probably miliare, an edible grass seed. ↑

No. 21

Nagul-Munnā

In a village there were two persons called Nagul-Munnā and Mun-aeṭa Guruwā. While those two were living there they spoke together, “Friend, while we two are remaining in this way matters are not going on properly.” At the time when they spoke thus, Mun-aeṭa Guruwā replied to Nagul-Munnā’s talk, and said, “It is good, friend. If that be so let us two cut a chena.”

Having spoken thus, the two persons went to the chena jungle, and there being no watch-hut there, built one; and taking supplies week by week, began to chop down the bushes while they were living at the house in the jungle. Having chopped down the jungle, and burnt it, and sown the chena, the millet plants grew to a very large size.

When the two persons were at the watch-hut they remained talking one night for a long time, and said, “To-morrow we must go to the village to bring back supplies.” After talking thus, they went to sleep, both of them.

During the time while they were sleeping, Mun-aeṭa Guruwā’s clothes caught fire. Then Nagul-Munnā awoke, and jumped down to the ground, and ran away. Mun-aeṭa Guruwā was burnt in the shed and died. On account of his being killed, through fear of being charged with causing his death, Nagul-Munnā bounded off into the jungle, and did not return to the village.

That day the relatives of those people who were in the village, thinking, “Nagul-Munnā and Mun-aeṭa Guruwā will be coming to fetch supplies,” getting ready the supplies, stayed looking for them. On that day the two persons did not come; because they did not come two men went from the village to look for them.

The two having gone and looked, and seen that the watch-hut had been burnt, spoke together concerning it: “Both these men have been burnt and died. Let us go back to the village.” So they returned.

Nagul-Munnā, who sprang into the jungle that night, having come home during the night of the following day, spoke to his wife, who was in the house. The woman, thinking that he had died, was frightened at his speech, and cried out, “Nagul-Munnā has been born as a Yakā, and having come here is doing something to me.” At that cry the men of the village came running; when they looked he was not there, having run off through fear of being seized.

In that manner he came on two days. The woman, being afraid, did not open the door. On the third day he arose, and hid himself at the tank near the village. While he was there, a tom-tom beater having gone to a devil-dance,1 came bringing a bit of cooked rice, and a box containing his mask and decorations.2

As he was coming along bringing them, this Nagul-Munnā having seen him, went and beat the tom-tom beater, and taking the bit of cooked rice and the box of devil-dancer’s things, bounded into the jungle. Having sprung into the jungle, and eaten the bit of rice, he unfastened the box of devil-dancer’s goods, and taking the things in it, dressed himself in them, putting the jingling bracelets3 on his arms and the jingling anklets4 on his legs.

There was a large mask in it. Taking it, and tying it on his face, he went to the village when it became night, and having gone to a house there, broke the neck of a calf that was tied near it, and sprang into the rice-field near by. Having made a noise by shaking the jingling bracelets, and given three cries, “Hū, Hū, Hū,” he shouted, “If you do not give a leaf-cup of rice and a young coconut at dawn, and at night a leaf-cup of rice and a young coconut, I will kill all the cattle and men that are in your village, and having drunk their blood, go away.”

The men of the village becoming afraid on account of it, began to give rice every day in the way he said. Having given it for about four or five years in this manner, the men spoke together, “Let us fetch a sooth-sayer to seize that Yakā.” After having said concerning it, “It is good,” they fetched a doctor (Vedā).

When the doctor went to the tank to catch that Yakā, Nagul-Munnā came, and seizing that doctor, cut his bathing cloth, and having taken him to the place where he was staying, killed him, and trampled on his bathing cloth. Through the seizing and killing of the doctor, the men of the village became afraid to a still greater degree.

After that, having talked about bringing another sooth-sayer they fetched one. In the same manner, when he went to the tank the Yakā killed the sooth-sayer. At that deed the men of the village became more afraid still.

Having fetched a Sannyāsi (a Hindu religious mendicant) from Jaffna, they went to him, and told him to seize the Yakā. That man said, “It is good”; and having gone to the aforesaid tank to look for him, the Yakā was in a tree. So the sooth-sayer repeated incantations to cause the Yakā to descend. The Yakā did not descend.

After that, because he did not descend, that person got to know that he was a man, and on his calling “Hū,” to the men of the village the men came. Afterwards, seizing Nagul-Munnā, who was in the tree, they went to the village.

Because Mun-aeṭa Guruwā had died, the relatives of Mun-aeṭa Guruwā came for their [legal] action against him.

Saying that he had cheated them, and eaten food wrongly obtained from them, the men of the village came for their action.

Because he had stolen the rice and the box with tom-tom beater’s things in it, the tom-tom beater came for his action.

Saying that he killed the first sooth-sayer, his people came for their action.

The second sooth-sayer’s people also in the same way came for their action.

For his killing the calf the owner came for his action.

After all who had brought these actions had came to one spot, the man, saying, “Because my wife told me to cut the chena together with Mun-aeṭa Guruwā, and through my cutting the chena with him, this happened,” killed his own wife.

Then, while he was going for his trial a bear bit that man on the way, and he died.

North-western Province.

In The Orientalist, vol. iii, p. 31, there is a nearly similar story of a tom-tom beater who was supposed to be burnt in his watch hut. In reality, it was a beggar who was burnt. The man being afraid of being charged with murdering him, got hid in the jungle. He came to his house at night, but was supposed to be the Mala upan Yakā, “the evil spirit born from the dead,” and was refused admittance by his wife, who gave an alarm. As men were coming on hearing it, he ran off. On another night when he came, his wife assailed him with a volley of invectives, as demon-scarers; so carrying off his dancing paraphernalia, he again retired, and afterwards robbed travellers, and frightened the people till they threatened to leave the district. The King offered a handsome reward for his apprehension, but he tied up a Kaṭṭaḍiyā or devil priest who came to exorcise him. In the end he was captured by a Buddhist monk, taken before the King, and after relating his adventures, appears to have been allowed to go unpunished.

In the Jātaka story No. 257 (vol. ii, p. 209), there is an account of four actions brought against one man on the same day. It is a folk-tale in Ceylon also.

1 Kankāriya. ↑

2 Wes. ↑

3 Gigiri walalu. ↑

4 Silambu. ↑

No. 22

The Kulē-bakā Flowers

In a certain country a King was ruling; the King was without children. The King having performed many meritorious deeds, five children were born.

When they looked into the Naekata (or prognostics resulting from the positions of the planets) at the time when the children were born, those of four were good, but that of the fifth child was that on seeing him his father’s two eyes would become blind. The King told them to take the Prince and put him down in the forest. So having taken the Prince they put him in the forest.

After that, animals having come through the favour of the Prince’s guardian deity, gave him milk, and reared him.

After much time had passed, the Prince’s father, the King, went to have the jungle driven (for shooting); and having gone, while they were driving the jungle that Prince came, and bounded round the King’s enclosure. Then, the King having seen him his eyes became blind, and he went away without his eyes seeing anything. The people who went with the King, lifting him up, carried him to the palace.

Having arrived there, various medical treatments were applied; he was not cured. After that, he caused sooth-sayers to be brought, and after he had asked them regarding it, they said, “By applying medical treatment you will not meet with a cure. In the midst of the Forest of the Gods there is a flower called Kulē-bakā. Having brought that flower, and burnt it on your eyes, your eyes will see.”

Afterwards the King asked the people, “Who is able to bring this flower?” All the people said they could not do it. Then the four eldest Princes of the King, having said, “Let us go,” asked permission of the King; the King told them to go. So the four persons having started, went.

As they were going, the four persons went to a city. A courtesan stayed in that city; her name was Diribari-Lakā.1 She gambled (i.e. kept a gambling house). These four persons went to her house, and having gone there prepared to gamble. Then the woman said, “Should you lose by this game, I shall make you four persons prisoners (that is, slaves).” The four persons having said, “It is good,” gambled, and all four having lost remained there as prisoners.

The Prince who was in the forest, having got to know all these matters, also set off to seek the flower, and on his way arrived at the city at which the Princes who were made prisoners were staying. This one, having gone to the King of the city, was appointed to do messenger’s work there. While he was living thus, this one obtained news that the courtesan was gambling, and thereupon this Prince asked the King for leave of absence. Having obtained it, he went to the house of an old woman near the courtesan’s house.

Having gone there, this Prince having fallen down near the feet of that old woman and made obeisance, weeping and weeping, these words are what he said, “Mother, are you in the enjoyment of health? Do not you let your face be even visible (to) scrofulous offspring. When lightning has struck you (may it) take your progeny.”2 Having spoken and spoken with these honours he remained weeping. The woman’s child, not of small age, was there, and having said similar things to the child also, and while weeping having paid respect, the woman made that Prince rise, and asked him, “Where were you for such a long period?”

“I was with a King,” the Prince said. “Mother, whose is that house?” he asked.

The woman said, “Why, son? Do not say anything about it. That house is the house of a courtesan. There is a gambling game of that woman’s, and by it many persons, having lost, remain as prisoners.”

The Prince asked, “Mother, how does one win by that game?”

Then the woman said, “A bent lamp having been lighted, is placed at the gambling place. Below the lamp a cat is sitting. While the woman is gambling the cat raises its head; then victory falls to the woman. When another person is playing the cat lowers its head; then defeat falls to that man. If you are to win, having extinguished the bent lamp, and driven away the cat, and brought and placed there another lamp, if you should then play you can win.”

After that, the Prince went to gamble. Having gone there, when he was ready to gamble she said, “Should you lose in gambling, you will be condemned to imprisonment; should you win you marry me.”

The Prince said, “It is good,” and gambled. When he was losing, he extinguished the lamp, and having beaten and driven away the cat, he told the woman to bring another lamp. After that, the woman brought a lamp. Having brought and placed the lamp there, they gambled. The woman having lost all, the Prince won. Afterwards, that woman married this Prince.

During the time while he was living there, as this Prince was starting to go and bring the Kulē-bakā flower, the woman said, “Don’t go.”

The Prince said, “I did not come for this gambling; I came for the Kulē-bakā flower. I must indeed go, after having set off for this purpose,” he said. So the Prince went to bring the flower. Before this, he had allowed the imprisoned men to go, and said to the four Princes, “Stop until I return.”

Having thus gone, he entered into the midst of a forest. While he was there, human-flesh-eating serpents and forest animals that were in the midst of the forest sprang to devour this Prince, but he made supplication to his deity, so they were unable to do it, and went away.

Then the Yakā who was guarding the Kulē-bakā garden, having seen the Prince, and having arisen and come near the Prince, asked, “Have you, a man born in the world of men, come into my presence to be a prey to me?”

The Prince said, “My father the King for a fault said he must behead me. On account of it, having made my way into the midst of the forest, I have come to you for you to eat indeed. If you are going to eat me, eat me; if you are going to keep me, keep me alive.”

After that, the Yakā asked, “What do you eat?”

The Prince said, “We eat wheat flour, ghī, sugar, and camels’ flesh.3 These indeed we eat.”

All these requisites having been brought by the Yakā, after he had given them to the Prince, the Prince made the food, and gave to the Yakā also.

The Yakā having eaten the food, sprang up into the air, and said to the Prince, “I never ate a meal like this. I will do anything you tell me.”

Then the Prince said to the Yakā, “Where is the path to go to the Kulē-bakā garden?”

The Yakā sprang up into the air, and fell on the ground, and beating his head, said, “If you had said so before this, by this time I should have eaten you. What can I do now that I have promised to help you?” Having said, “Go away from here,” he told him about the path.

Then the Prince went along it. There, also, a Yaksanī4 (female Yakā) was guarding it, and the Prince came to her. The Yaksanī asked the Prince, “Where are you going?”

The Prince said, “Having delayed in the midst of a forest, as I was returning I was unable to find the country with my village. Now I have met with you here.”

As he appeared good to the Yaksanī she caused him to stay there, and married her daughter to him. The name of the girl to whom the Prince was married was Maha-Mudā.5

During the time while he was there the Prince remained angry.

The girl asked, “What are you angry for?”

The Prince said, “I must go to look at the Kulē-bakā garden.”

Then the girl spoke about this matter to her mother. So that woman having fetched rats, caused a tunnel to be made by them to the Kulē-bakā garden. Along that tunnel the Prince went to the flower garden, and having gone there, and plucked the flowers, came back again.

Having returned there, calling Maha-Mudā he came to the house of Diribari-Lakā. Having arrived there, he burnt on the lower part of the back the four Princes who had remained as prisoners. The Prince who went for the Kulē-bakā flowers having burnt in this way the four Princes, who stayed as slaves at the house of Diribari-Lakā, these four persons were freed from imprisonment.

Then the Prince, Maha-Mudā, and Diribari-Lakā, taking the flowers, came to the Prince’s native country. Having arrived there, he burnt the Kulē-bakā flowers on the two eyes of his father the King, and the two eyes of the King became well.

After that, the King having asked the Prince regarding these matters, learnt that he was the King’s Prince, [and he and his two wives continued to live there with him].

North-western Province.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 276 ff.—Tales of the Punjab, p. 263, 264—a rat assisted King Sarkap in games at Chaupur (the Pachīs game), until it was frightened by a kitten that Prince Rasālu had rescued from a potter’s kiln.

At p. 250 of the former work it was predicted that if his father saw the Prince during the twelve years after his birth, he (the father) would die.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 319, a rat which had been saved from drowning assisted a girl to defeat a Princess at Chaupur, by attracting the attention of a cat that moved the pieces for the Princess. The cat was struck by the girl while trying to seize the rat which she held; when it ran off she won.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 149, the cat belonging to a female gambler, at a sign from her mistress, extinguished the lamp whenever the game was going against her.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 277, a Princess, in order to get back her husband, started a gambling establishment at which they gambled with dice, the stake being one hundred thousand rupees, together with the imprisonment of the loser at her house. Her ruse was successful. A rich merchant’s son, the Prefect’s son, the Minister’s son, and the Prince, all came in turn and lost.

1 Learned Brow. ↑

2 On account of the strangeness of this speech, I give the Sinhalese words as they were written: Umba kaburupanjāti jāti umbē muna (sic.) penenḍawat epā. Umbaṭa hena waediyāmin umbē jātakayā ganin. It appears to be a Rabelaisian joke, and was considered such by the person who narrated it. ↑

3 Oṭunnē mālu. This proves that the story is Indian, and perhaps from the Panjāb, there being no camels in Ceylon. ↑

4 The usual village spelling. ↑

5 Great Happiness. ↑

No. 23

Kurulu-gama Appu, the Sooth-sayer

In a certain city a man was stricken by a scarcity of food to eat, and he went to another country. Having gone there, during the time while he was residing in a village, the village men asked, “What sooth can you tell?”1 He said, “I can tell one sooth; to do that sooth I want Jak-tree gum, Coconut oil, and Euphorbia milk” (the milky sap which exudes from cuts or bruises in the bark). Thereupon the men having collected those things that he mentioned, gave them to him.

Then he went and warmed these things [making bird-lime] and placed [limed] twigs, and catching birds and coming with them, he gave them daily, two by two at each house, and thus ate. The man’s name was Appu; his village was Kurulu-gama (Birds’ village).

While he was continuing to eat in this manner, the men of that village started to go to Puttalam, carrying produce for sale. That man also said, “I also must go.” Then the men of the village asked, “You have nothing; what will you take?” Thereupon this one tying up a pingo load of chaff and coconut husks, goes with the men.

Then the men who were going on that journey, having come down to the high road, set off to go. While they were going, the men having said [in fun] “Vedarāla” (Doctor) to that man, he kept the name.

Having gone very far, the Vedarāla, telling the men who went with him to wait on the road, placed his pingo (carrying-stick) on the road, and went into an open place in the jungle. While going along in it, when he looked about, a yoke of cattle were entangled in the bushes. Then this Vedarāla having gone near the yoke of cattle, looked at the letter marks branded on them, and having come back and taken up the pingo load, while they were going on it became night.

This party having halted on the road near a village, sent the Vedarāla to get a resting-place for the night. Having gone to a house in the village, when he asked for it the house men said, “What giving of resting-places is there for us! We are lamenting in sorrow for the difficulty we are in. Our yoke of cattle are missing.”

The Vedarāla said, “Now then, what have we to do with your losing a yoke of cattle? Give us a resting-place.”

“If you want one, look there! There is the shed, come and stay there,” they said.

Then the Vedarāla having come back, says to the people of the party, “There is a shed indeed. Stay if you like; go on, if you want to go,” he said. So this party having come to the shed sat down.

The people of the party said to the Vedarāla, “Vedarāla, why are you staying looking about? Night is coming on. We must seek a little firewood and water,” they spoke together.

The house persons having heard these words, said, “What is this, that you are saying ‘Vedarāla’? Does he know sooth and the like?” they asked.2

The persons of the party said without a reason for it (nikamaṭa), “To a certain extent he can tell matters of sooth.”

“If so, don’t be delayed on account of anything you want. We will bring and give you rice, firewood, and water.” So they brought and gave them five quarts of rice, a dried fish, a head of ash-plantains.

This party, cooking amply, and having eaten, said at night to the person who owned the house, “Now then, bring a packet of betel leaves for him to tell you sooth.” So the house person having brought the betel, gave it to the Vedarāla.

Thereupon the assumed (lit. “face”) Vedarāla, having taken the betel, after having looked at it falsely becoming “possessed,” said, “It is a yoke of oxen of yours that have been lost, isn’t it?”

Then the house person said, “You have said the sooth very correctly. I asked it of the deities of many dēwālas (demon-temples), and of sooth-sayers. There wasn’t a person who told me even a sign of it.”

Thereafter the Vedarāla asked, “What will you give me for seeking and giving you the yoke of cattle?”

That person said, “Even if you can’t give the full yoke of cattle, I will give a half share of the value”; thus he promised.

The Vedarāla having said, “It is good,” and told him to get and bring a torch, cunningly having gone near the yoke of cattle that remained entangled in the bush at that place where he went on coming, asked if these were his oxen. Then the man said, “These are indeed my cattle,” and having unfastened them and come back, in the morning gave him a half share3 of the value of the cattle. Taking it, and throwing away the chaff and coconut husks, he went away.

That day also, having gone on until the time when it was becoming night, he got a resting-place in the very way in which, having spoken before, he got one. At the time when they were in the shed the persons of the party said, “Vedarāla, what are you staying looking about for? We must seek and get firewood and water.”

Then the house people say, “What are you saying ‘Vedarāla’ for? Does he know to say sooth and the like?”

After that, this party say, “He can also tell sooth. Last night he sought and gave a yoke of cattle.”

Then the house persons quickly having brought rice, fish, firewood, water, gave them to the men.

This party having amply cooked and eaten, while they were sleeping, the house person, having brought a packet of betel leaves, spoke to the Vedarāla: “How am I to ask sooth?”

The Vedarāla rebuked him. “All these persons being now without memory or understanding, what saying of sooth is there?”4 Then that one having gone, he went to sleep.

A woman of the house was there; her name was Sihibuddī. The woman having heard the words which the Vedarāla said, came and having softly awakened the Vedarāla, said, “The Sihibuddī you mention is I indeed. It was I indeed who stole this house person’s packet of warāgan.5 I will give you a share; don’t mention it.”

Thereupon the Vedarāla says, “Where is it? Bring it quickly, and having brought it place it near that clump of plantains.”

Then this woman having brought the packet of warāgan, and placed it at the foot of the plantain clump and gone away, he went to sleep.

Afterwards the Vedarāla called the house person. “Now then, bring betel for me to say sooth.” The man having brought betel gave it to the Vedarāla.

Then the Vedarāla, having taken the betel and looked at it, said, “It is a packet of warāgan that has been lost, isn’t it.”

That man said, “It is that indeed. Should you seek and give what has been lost of mine, I will give you a half share.”

Then the Vedarāla having told him to get a light, becoming “possessed,” went and took and gave him the packet of warāgan that was at the foot of the plantain clump.

Having taken from it a half share, at the time when the party were going on, thieves having broken into the box at the foot of the King’s bed,6 he made public by beat of tom-toms that many offices would be given by the King to a person who should seek and give it to him.

At that time this party said, “In our party indeed, there is a sooth-sayer. On the night of the day before yesterday he sought out and gave a yoke of cattle. Yesternight he sought out and gave a packet of warāgan.” Thereupon the persons took this Vedarāla near the King. Then the King asks, “Can he catch and give the thief who broke into the box at the foot of my bed?” The party said that he could.

Then the sooth-sayer, having become afraid, thought, “I will tie a cord to my neck and die.” So he said, “After tying white cloths in a house (as a decoration, on the walls and under the roof), and a piece of cord to the cross-beam, and placing a bed, chairs, and table in it, and setting on end a rice mortar, you must give me it in the evening.” The King having prepared them in that very way, gave him them.

Afterwards, the Vedarāla, after it became night, having gone inside the house, told them to shut the door from the outside, and lock it. Then having mounted on the rice mortar, when he tried to put the cord round his neck it was too short. On account of it he said, “Both the cord is too short and the height is insufficient. What shall I do?”7

As the Vedarāla was saying this word Kumandāēyi, a citizen, Kumandā, an old thief, was there [listening outside]. Having heard this, he thought, “He is calling out my name”; so becoming afraid he came near and spoke to the Vedarāla, and said, “It is I indeed whom you call Kumandā. It is I indeed who committed the theft. Don’t say anything about it to the King.”

Then the Vedarāla said, “If so, bring the things and put them in this house.”

Thereupon the old thief, having brought to the house all the things taken out of the box which was at the foot of the King’s bed, gave them to the sooth-sayer through the window.

Then the Vedarāla slept until light having come it became daylight.

Afterwards, the King having sent messengers in the morning, they awoke the Vedarāla. Then the Vedarāla, thinking it unseasonable, said, “Who is talking to me without allowing me to sleep?” and silently went to sleep again. So the messengers returned and told the King.

Afterwards the King came and spoke to him, and opened the door. The Vedarāla having come out, said, “O Lord, Your Majesty, I was unable to seize the thieves; the things indeed I met with.”

Then the King said, “The thief does not matter; after you have met with the things it is enough.”

Then the King, catching a great many fire-flies and putting them in a coconut shell, asked the Vedarāla, “What is there in this?”

The sooth-sayer, becoming afraid, went as far as he could see him, and thinking, “I will strike my head against a tree and die,” came running and struck his head against a tree.8 Then the sooth-sayer said, “O Father! It was as though a hundred fire-flies flew about.”

The King said, “That is true. They are indeed fire-flies that are in my hand.”

After that, the King caught a bird, and clenching it in his fist, asked the sooth-sayer, “What is there in this fist?”

The sooth-sayer, having become afraid, began to beat his head on a stone. Then he said, “Kurulu-gama Appu’s strength went (this time).”9

The King said, “Bola, it is indeed a bird that is in my hand”; and having called the Vedarāla, and given him many offices, and a house, told him to stay at that very city.

Afterwards the Vedarāla, thinking, “They will call me again to tell sooth,” having put away the things that were in the house, and having set fire to the house, said, “Kurulu-gama Appu’s sooth-saying is finished from to-day. The sooth books have been burnt.” Having made it public he stayed at that very city.

North-western Province.

The second discovery of the sooth-sayer is extracted from a variant by a washerman, the rest of the story having been written by a man of the cultivating caste.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. i, p. 272, there is an account of a pretended sooth-sayer, a poverty-stricken Brāhmaṇa. He first hid a horse, and when application was made to him to discover it, he drew diagrams and described the place where it would be found. After that, when a thief stole gold and jewels from the King’s palace he was sent for and shut up in a room, where he began to blame his tongue, jivha, which had made a vain pretence at knowledge. The principal thief, a maid called Jivhā, overheard him, and told him where she had buried her share of the plunder. Afterwards the King tested him by placing a frog in a covered pitcher. He expected that he would be killed, and said, “This is a fine pitcher for you, Frog (his father’s pet name for himself), since suddenly it has become the swift destroyer of yourself in this place.” He was thought a great sage, and the King presented him with “villages with gold, umbrella, and vehicles of all kinds.”

There is another story of a pretended sooth-sayer in vol. ii, p. 140, of the same work, but it does not, like the last, resemble the Sinhalese tale.

1 Equivalent to saying, “What things do you know?” Sāēstara, the noun used, means sooth, knowledge of things, and science. ↑

2 The title “Vedarāla” is applied both to native medical practitioners and to demon expellers, who are also sooth-sayers. ↑

3 Twenty rupees, in a variant. ↑

4 Sihi buddi naetuwaṭa mona sāēstara kiyamanada? This might also be interpreted, “On account of the absence of Sihibuddi what saying of sooth is there?” The long final ī of female names is usually shortened in conversation. ↑

5 A South Indian gold coin, with the figure of a boar, Varāha, on the obverse, said by Winslow to be worth three and a half rupees. ↑

6 “A box in which the most valuable ornaments of the most frequent use are kept, and which for the sake of safety is always placed at the foot of the bed” (The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 59, footnote). ↑

7 Kumandāēyi mama karannē, which if not very clearly heard might be translated, “It is Kumandā; I am doing it,” or “I will do it.” ↑

8 He might do any unusual acts of this sort without exciting much astonishment, while apparently under the influence of “possession.” ↑

9 Kurulu gama Appugē rissa giyā. This might be translated, “On the birds’ moving, Appu’s strength went.” ↑

No. 24

How a Prince was chased by a Yaksanī, and what befel

A prince went for hunting-sport. As he was going, a Yaksanī (female Yakā) who was living in the midst of the forest, chased him, saying that she was going to eat the Prince, and drove the Prince down the path. The Prince having gone running, went bounding through the middle of a city. The Yaksanī followed him in the disguise of a woman.

The King of the city having seen them, sent the Ministers, and told them to look what it was about. The Ministers asked the Yaksanī who was bounding behind him, “What is that for?”

The Yaksanī said, “My husband having quarrelled with me and left me, is running away. I am running after him because of it.”

The Ministers then brought her before the King, and having seen the beauty of the Yaksanī, the King was pleased with her, and said, “If you should not go with him it does not matter; stay here.” So the King, having prepared another house for the Yaksanī, and having married her, establishing her in the office of Chief Queen, she remained there.

While she was there, this Yaksanī having gone like a thief during the time when all were sleeping, and killed and eaten the men of the city, brought a few of the bones, and placed them in a heap at the back of the houses in which the twelve Queens of the King slept.

When a little time had gone by in this manner, the men of the city came to the King, and saying, “Since you have brought and are keeping this Yaksanī this city is altogether desolate,” made obeisance. Then the King made inquiry into the matter.

Then that Yaksanī said, “Anē! O Lord, Your Majesty, I indeed do not know about that, but I did indeed see that thief who eats human flesh, although I did not tell you.”

The King asked, “Who is it?”

The Yaksanī said, “If Your Majesty should look behind the houses of the twelve Queens you can ascertain.”

When the King went there and looked, he found that it was true, and gave orders for the twelve Queens to be killed. Then the Yaksanī told him not to kill them, but to pluck out their eyes, and send them into the midst of the forest. Having heard the words which the Yaksanī said, he acted in that very manner.

So all this party of Queens went and stayed in one spot, and there all the twelve bore children. As each one was born, they divided and ate it. The youngest Queen put aside all the flesh that was given to her, and while she was keeping it she, also, bore a son. Then those eleven Queens made ready to eat that Prince, so that Princess gave them the flesh which she had kept, and the party ate it.

As time went on that Prince having grown a little, began to bring and give them fruits that were lying on the ground. Then the Prince met with a bow and an arrow that had been concealed there. After that he began to shoot various kinds of small animals, and to bring and give them to the Queens. Afterwards he shot large animals, and having brought fire and boiled them, he gave the flesh to them. By this time the Prince understood all things thoroughly.

After that, one day this Prince asked, “Mother, what is the reason why your eyes have become blind, and my eyes are well?”

The party said, “We were the Queens of such and such a King; having taken a Yaksanī in marriage, this was done to us through her enmity.” Then the Prince remained thinking of killing the King.

One day, as he was going hunting, he met with a Vaeddā. Thinking he would kill the Vaeddā, the Prince chased him along the path. The Vaeddā, being afraid, went running away, and having met with the King said, “O Lord, Your Majesty, there is a very handsome Prince in the midst of this forest. One cannot say if the Prince is the son of a deity or a royal Prince. He does not come near enough to speak. When he sees a man he drives him away, saying he is going to eat him.” He spoke very strongly about it.

So the Ministers were sent by the King, who told them to seize and bring him. As the party were going to seize him, he sprang forward, saying that he was going to eat them. At that, the party became afraid, and ran away. Having come running, they told the King, “O Lord, Your Majesty, we cannot seize him. He comes springing at us saying he is going to eat us.”

Then the King came, bringing his war army. Thereupon the Prince, who before that was angry with the King in his mind, threw a stone in order to kill the King, and struck him. Being struck by the stone, the King’s head was wounded (lit. split), so the King and all of them became afraid, and ran away.

The King, having returned, wrote letters to foreign countries: “There is a wicked Prince in the midst of the forest in my kingdom. Who he is I cannot find out. Because of it you must come to seize the Prince.”

The Prince having got to know of it, and thinking, “It is not good for me to be killed at the hands of these men; having met with the King I will kill him,” went to the royal palace. When he arrived there the King saw him, and asked, “Who are you?”

The Prince said, “I am a royal Prince; I stay in the midst of this forest.”

The King said, “Would it be a bad thing if you remained at this palace?”

The Prince asked, “What work would there be for me?”

The King said, “Remain and do the work of the First Minister of the Ministers.”

The Prince asked, “How much pay would there be for me for the day?”

The King replied, “I will give fifty masuran.”

“Fifty masuran are insufficient for me. Will you give me every day in the evening a hundred masuran?” he asked.

The King said, “It is good,” and after that he stayed there. While remaining there he came twice a day and assisted his twelve mothers.

When no long time had gone by, some one was heard crying out in the night near the city. The King told him to look who was crying. The Prince having gone, taking his sword, when he looked, a dead body was hanging in a tree, and a Yaksanī was springing up to eat the dead body. Being unable to seize it she was crying out.

The Prince went and asked, “What is that for?”

The Yaksanī replied, “My son having gone into the tree cannot descend; because of it I am crying out.”

The Prince said, “Mount on my shoulders and unfasten him.”

The Yaksanī having got on his shoulders, as she was about to eat the Prince he chopped at her with his sword. A foot was cut off, and she fled. Taking the foot and returning with it, the Prince showed it to the King. The King having seen the Prince’s resoluteness, in order to cause him to be killed said that unless he should bring the other foot he could not take charge of this one.

After that, the Prince went to the palace where the Yakās dwelt. There this Yaksanī whom he had wounded came, and having made obeisance, fell down and said, “Lord, do not kill me. I will do anything you tell me.” Summoning her to accompany him and returning, he showed her to the King.

Afterwards he employed this Yaksanī, and caused her to make a city at the place where his mothers were, and having made her construct a palace, he told the Yaksanī and his mothers to dwell there.

While they were there the Yaksanī said to the Prince, “I know the place where the King’s life is. Whatever you should do to the King himself you cannot kill him.”

The Prince asked, “Where is it?”

“It is in a golden parrot in such and such a tree,” she said.

After that he went there and caught the parrot and killed it. Then the King died.

After he died, the Prince having set fire to the palace there, and cut down the Yaksanī who stayed with the King, left his mothers in charge of the city formed by the maimed Yaksanī, and remained ruling the kingdom.

Western Province.

For some variants, see the notes at the end of the story numbered 48.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 355, a Princess in man’s disguise, acting as the King’s guard, found a ghūl in the form of a woman howling under a corpse that was hanging from a gallows. She stated that it was her son whom she could not reach, and she asked to be lifted up. When raised up to it by the Princess she began to suck the blood, on seeing which the Princess made a cut at her, but only severed a piece of her clothing, which proved to be of so rich a quality that the King ordered her to procure more for his wife.

In the Jātaka story No. 96 (vol. i, p. 235) an Ogress in the disguise of a woman followed a man into Takkasilā, intending to devour him. The King saw her, was struck by her beauty, and married her. When he had given her authority over those who dwelt in the palace, she brought other Ogres at night, and ate the King and every one in the place.

No. 25

The Wicked King

In a certain country there are a King and a Queen, it is said. The Queen has no children. During the time while she was rearing another (adopted) Prince, a child was born to the Queen.

After it was born, the King and Queen having spoken together, “Let us kill the Prince whom we have brought up,” said to the King’s Minister, “Take this Prince and put him down in a clump of bamboos.” The Minister having taken the Prince, and put him down in a clump of bamboos, returned. The Prince was seven years old.

After that, a man having gone to the bamboo clump to cut bamboos, and having seen, when he looked, that this Prince was there, without stopping to cut bamboos took away this Prince.

On the following day the King said to the Minister, “Look if the Prince is in the bamboo bush, and come back.” Afterwards he went, and when he looked, the Prince was not there. So he came to the King, and said, “The Prince is not there.”

Then the King said, “The man who went away after cutting bamboos will have taken him. Give these thousand masuran, and bring him.” Having said this, he gave him a thousand masuran. The Minister, having taken the thousand masuran, and given them to the man who took away the Prince, brought him and gave him to the King.

Afterwards the King said to the Minister, “Take this one and put him down in the middle of the path to a cattle fold in which five hundred cattle are collected, and return, so that, having been trampled on as the cattle are going along the path, he may die.” So the Minister having taken that Prince, and put him down in the middle of the path to a cattle fold in which five hundred cattle were collected, came away.

After that, as the five hundred cattle were setting off to go into the cattle fold, when the great chief bull which went first was about to go in, having seen this Prince he placed him under his body, and allowing the other cattle to go in, this bull went afterwards. Subsequently, as the herdsman who drove the cattle was going along he saw this Prince, and taking the Prince the herdsman went away.

On the following day the King said to the Minister, “Look if the Prince is at the cattle fold, and come back.” The Minister went, and when he looked the Prince was not there. So the Minister came and said to the King, “He is not there.”

Then the King having given a thousand masuran into the Minister’s hand said, “The herdsman who drove the cattle will have taken him. Give these thousand masuran and bring him.” So the Minister having taken the thousand masuran, and given them to the herdsman, brought the Prince and gave him to the King.

After that, the King said, “Take this one and put him down in the road on which five hundred carts are coming.” So the Minister having taken the Prince, and put him down in the road on which five hundred carts were coming, returned.

Then the carters, having seen from afar that the Prince was there, took the Prince, and placed him in a cart, and went home with him.

On the following day the King said to the Minister, “Go and look if the Prince is in the road on which the five hundred carts come, and return.” The Minister went, and when he looked the Prince was not there. So the Minister came and told the King, “The Prince is not there.”

Then the King gave the Minister a thousand masuran, and said, “The carters will have taken him. Give these thousand masuran and bring him.” The Minister having given the thousand masuran to the carters, brought the Prince and gave him to the King.

After that, the King said to the Minister, “Speak to the potter and come back. There is no other means of killing this one but surrounding him with pottery in the pottery kiln, and burning him.” So the Minister went and spoke to the potter, “Our King tried thus and thus to kill this Prince; he could not. Because of that, how if you should surround him even in the pottery kiln?”

The potter said, “Should you bring him I will surround him.”

So the Minister came and said to the King, “The potter told me to take the Prince.”

After that, the King wrote a letter: “Immediately on seeing the Prince who brings this letter, surround him in the pottery kiln, and kill him.” Having written that in the letter, and given the letter to the Prince who had been adopted, he said, “Take this letter to such and such a potter, and having given it come back.”

Afterwards, as the Prince was going along taking the letter, the King’s Prince having played at “Disks,”1 and the counters having been driven out, was dragging along the hop counters. Then, having seen this Prince, the King’s Prince asked, “Where, elder brother, are you going?”

The Prince said, “Father gave me this letter, and told me to give it to such and such a potter. Having given it I am going to return.”

The King’s Prince said, “If so, elder brother, I will give that letter and come back. You drag these hop counters.”

Then this Prince having said “Hā,” and given the letter into the hands of the King’s Prince, dragged the hop counters.

While the King’s Prince was taking the letter, the potter was making ready the pottery kiln. After the Prince had given the letter to the potter, when the potter looked at it there was in the letter, “After you have seen this letter, surround in the pottery kiln the Prince who brings this letter, and set fire to it.” So the potter taking the Prince surrounded him in the pottery kiln, and set fire to it. While it was burning in the pottery kiln the King’s Prince died.

After the adopted Prince finished dragging the hop counters, and came to the palace, the King asked, “Did you give the letter to the potter?”

The Prince said, “As I was going there, younger brother having played at ‘Disks,’ and the counters being driven out, was dragging the hop counters. Having seen me going, younger brother asked, ‘Where, elder brother, are you going?’ I said, ‘Father gave me this letter to give to such and such a potter; having given it I am going to return.’ Then younger brother said, ‘Elder brother, I will give that letter and come; you draw these hop counters.’ So I gave the letter into the hand of younger brother, and I myself having drawn the hop counters came back.”

Then the King quickly said to the Ministers, “Go to the potter, and look if the Prince is there, and return.”

The Ministers went and asked the potter, “Is the Prince here?”

The potter said, “I killed the Prince.”

So the Ministers came and told the King that the Prince was dead.

The King immediately wrote a letter to the King of another city, that when he saw the Prince who brought the letter he was to kill him; and having given the letter into the hand of this adopted Prince, he said, “Give this letter to the King of such and such a city, and come back.”

The Prince having taken the letter went to the palace of the King of the city. At that time the King was not in the palace; the King’s Princess was there. This Prince having grown up was beautiful to look at; the Princess thought of marrying him. Asking for the letter in the hand of the Prince, when she looked at it there was written that on seeing the Prince they were to kill him.

Then the Princess having torn up and thrown away the letter, wrote a letter that on seeing the Prince they were to marry him to the Princess. Having written it and given it into the hand of the Prince, she said, “After our father the King has come give him this letter.”

After that, while the Prince, having taken the letter, was there, the King came. The Prince gave him the letter. When the King looked at the letter he learnt that on seeing the Prince he was to marry the King’s Princess to him. So the King married the King’s Princess to the Prince.

Having married her, while the Prince was there, illness seized the King who brought up the Prince, and they sent letters for this Prince to come. The Prince would not. Afterwards they sent a letter: “Even now the King cannot be trusted [to live]; he is going to die even to-day. You must come.” To that also the Prince replied, “I will not.”

The Princess said, “Having said ‘I will not,’ how will it be? Let us two go to-day.” So the Prince and Princess came. When they arrived, the King was about to die, and breathing with difficulty. The Prince came and sat near the King’s feet; the Princess sat near the King’s head. The King told the Prince to come near in order to give him an oath [to repeat], in such a manner that he would be unable to seize any article of the King’s.

Well then, as the King was coming to mention the King’s treasure houses and all other things, while he was opening his mouth to say the truth-oath to the Prince, the Princess, the King’s daughter-in-law, being aware of it, stroked the King’s neck, saying, “If so, father, for whom are they if not for us?” Then that which the King was about to say he had no opportunity of saying; while she was holding his neck he died.

After that, the Prince having obtained the sovereignty, and the treasure houses, and the other different houses that were there, the Prince and Princess stayed at that very palace.

Anun nahanḍa yanakoṭa tamumma nahinawā.

While they are going to kill others they die themselves.

North-western Province.

1 Sillu, “Hopscotch,” a game omitted from my account of village games in Ancient Ceylon. I have seen boys playing a form of Hopscotch which may be this one. I do not understand the reference to “dragging” the counters home after it, unless the meaning is “carrying.” The Sinhalese verb used is adinawā, which is sometimes employed with this other meaning. ↑

No. 26

The Kitul Seeds

A certain man and his son, who was a grown-up youth, were walking along a path one day, when they came to a place where many seeds had fallen from a Kitul Palm tree.

The man drew his son’s attention to them, and said, “We must gather these Kitul seeds, and plant them. When the plants from them grow up we shall have a large number of Kitul trees, from which we will take the toddy (juice), and make jaggery (a kind of brown sugar). By selling this we shall make money, which we will save till we shall have enough to buy a nice pony.”

“Yes,” said the boy, “and I will jump on his back like this, and ride him,” and as he said it he gave a bound.

“What!” said the father, “would you break my pony’s back like that!” and so saying, he gave him a blow on the side of the head which knocked him down senseless.

E. G. Goonewardene, Esqre.

North-western Province.

There is another story of this type in the tale No. 53, below.

In the Jātaka story No. 4 (vol. i, p. 19), there is a tale of a young man who acquired a fortune and became Lord Treasurer by means of a dead mouse which he picked up and sold for a farthing, subsequently increasing his money by careful investments.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara, vol. i, p. 33, a nearly identical mouse story is given.

In Indian Fairy Tales (Stokes), p. 31, there is a different one. A man who was to receive four pice for carrying a jar of ghī, settled that he would buy a hen with the money, sell her eggs, get a goat, and then a cow, the milk of which he would sell. Afterwards he would marry a wife, and when they had children he would refuse some cooked rice which they would offer him. At this point he shook his head as he refused it, and the jar fell and was broken.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 23, a man who was carrying a jar of butter on his head, and who expected to get three halfpence for the job, was going to buy a hen, then a sheep, a cow, a milch buffalo, and a mare, and then to get married. As he patted his future children on the head the pot fell and was broken.

In The Arabian Nights (Lady Burton’s ed., i, p. 296) there is a well-known variant in which the fortune was to be made out of a tray of glass-ware.

No. 27

The Speaking Horse

There was once a certain King who was greatly wanting in common sense, and in his kingdom there was a Paṇḍitayā who was extremely wise. The King had a very beautiful white horse of which he was very proud. The Paṇḍitayā was respected and revered by all, but for the King little or no respect was felt, on account of his foolish conduct. He observed this, and became jealous of the Paṇḍitayā’s popularity, so he determined to destroy him.

One day he sent for him. The Paṇḍitayā came and prostrated himself before the King, who said, “I hear that you are extremely learned and wise. I require you to teach my white horse to speak. I will allow you one week to consider the matter, at the end of which time you must give me a reply, and if you cannot do it your head will be cut off.”

The Paṇḍitayā replied, “It is good, O Great King,”1 and went home in very low spirits.

He lived with a beautiful daughter, a grown-up girl. When he returned she observed that he was melancholy, and asked the reason, on which the Paṇḍitayā informed her of the King’s command, and said that it was impossible to teach a horse to speak, and that he must place his affairs in order, in preparation for his death.

“Do as I tell you,” she said, “and your life will be saved. When you go to the King on the appointed day, and he asks you if you are able to teach his horse to speak, you must answer, ‘I can do it, but it is a work that will occupy a long time. I shall require seven years’ time for it. You must also allow me to keep the horse by me and ride it, while you will provide food for it.’ The King will agree to this, and in the meantime who knows what may happen?”

The Paṇḍitayā accepted this wise advice. He appeared before the King at the end of the week, and prostrated himself. The King asked him, “Are you able to teach my white horse to speak?”

“Maharājani,” he replied, “I am able.” He then explained that it would be a very difficult work, and would occupy a long time; and that he would require seven years for it, and must have the horse by him all the time, and use it, while the King would provide food for it.

The King was delighted at the idea of getting his horse taught to speak, and at once agreed to these conditions. So the Paṇḍitayā took away the horse, and kept it at the King’s expense.

Before the seven years had elapsed the King had died, and the horse remained with the Paṇḍitayā.

E. G. Goonewardene, Esqre.

North-western Province.

1 Sādhu Maharājani. ↑

No. 28

The Female Quail

A female Quail having laid an egg on a rock, went to eat food. Then the [overhanging] rock closed over it, and when the bird returned there was no egg. “Andō! There is no egg,” she said.

Well then, she went to the Mason. The Mason said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is [the use of] sitting and staying? What is [the use of] betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? Cut the rock, and give me the egg, O Mason,” she said.

The Mason said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Village Headman.1 The Village Headman said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Village Headman, tie up the house-door2 of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Village Headman said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Pig. The Pig said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Pig, feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Pig said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Vaeddā. The Vaeddā said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Vaeddā, shoot (with bow and arrow) the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Vaeddā said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Timbol creeper.3 The Timbola said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Timbola, prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā who did not shoot the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Timbola said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Fire. The Fire said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Fire, burn the Timbola, the Timbola that did not prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā who did not shoot the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Fire said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Water-pot. The Water-pot said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Water-pot, quench the Fire, the Fire that did not burn the Timbola, the Timbola that did not prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā who did not shoot the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Water-pot said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Elephant. The Elephant said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Elephant, make muddy the Water-pot, the Water-pot that did not quench the Fire, the Fire that did not burn the Timbola, the Timbola that did not prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā who did not shoot the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Elephant said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Rat. The Rat said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Rat, creep into the ear of the Elephant, the Elephant who did not make muddy the Water-pot, the Water-pot that did not quench the Fire, the Fire that did not burn the Timbola, the Timbola that did not prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā who did not shoot the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Rat said, “I will not.”

From there she went to the Cat. The Cat said, “Sit down, O Bird.”

“What is the use of sitting and staying? What is the use of betel leaf and areka nut at the corner of the bed? O Cat, eat the Rat, the Rat who did not creep into the ear of the Elephant, the Elephant who did not make muddy the Water-pot, the Water-pot that did not quench the Fire, the Fire that did not burn the Timbola, the Timbola that did not prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā who did not shoot the Pig, the Pig who did not feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman who did not tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason who did not cut the rock, and give me the egg,” she said.

The Cat said “Hā” (Yes).

Well then, the Cat went to catch the Rat, the Rat went to creep into the ear of the Elephant, the Elephant went to make muddy the Water-pot, the Water-pot went to quench the Fire, the Fire went to burn the Timbola, the Timbola went to prick the body of the Vaeddā, the Vaeddā went to shoot the Pig, the Pig went to feed in the rice field of the Village Headman, the Village Headman went to tie up the house-door of the Mason, the Mason went to cut the rock, and take and give the egg.

Here the story ends. “Was the egg given?” I asked. “It would be given,” the narrator said. “No, he gave it,” said a listener.

North-western Province.

In a variant which I heard in the Southern Province, a bird laid two eggs in a crevice between two stones, which drew close together. She went to a Mason or Stone-cutter; (2) to a Pig; (3) to a Hunter; (4) to an Elephant, which she requested to kill him; (5) to a Lizard (Calotes), which she told to crawl up the Elephant’s trunk into its brain; (6) to a Jungle Hen, which she told to peck and kill the Lizard; (7) to a Jackal, who, when requested to kill the Jungle Hen, at once agreed, and said, “It is very good,” and set off after her.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 209—Tales of the Punjab, p. 195—there is a variant. While a farmer’s wife was winnowing corn, a crow carried off a grain, and perched on a tree to eat it. She threw a clod at it, and knocked it down, but the grain of corn rolled into a crack in the tree, and the crow, though threatened with death in case of failure, was unable to recover it.

It went for assistance, and requested (1) a Woodman to cut the tree; (2) a King to kill the man; (3) a Queen to coax the King; (4) a Snake to bite the Queen; (5) a Stick to beat the Snake; (6) Fire to burn the Stick; (7) Water to quench the Fire; (8) an Ox to drink the water; (9) a Rope to bind the Ox; (10) a Mouse to gnaw the Rope; (11) a Cat to catch the Mouse. “The moment the Cat heard the name Mouse, she was after it, for the world would come to an end before a Cat would leave a Mouse alone.” In the end the Crow got the grain of corn, and saved its life.

In Indian Folk Tales (Gordon), p. 53, there is an allied variant. A bird had bought three grains of corn for three cowries, and while she was on a new cart eating them one fell into a joint of the cart where she was unable to get it.

She appealed to (1) the Carpenter to take the cart to pieces, so that she might obtain it; (2) the King to make him do it; (3) the Queen to persuade the King; (4) a Deer to graze in the Queen’s garden; (5) the Stick to beat the Deer; (6) the Fire to burn the Stick; (7) the Lake to quench the Fire; (8) the Rats to fill up the Lake; (9) the Cat to attack the Rats; (10) the Elephant to crush the Cat; (11) an Ant to crawl into the Elephant’s ear; (12) the Crow, “the most greedy of all creatures,” to eat the Ant. The Crow consented, and the usual result followed.

1 Gamayā. ↑

2 Ge-dora, which probably means only “house-door” in this case, and not buildings, etc., in general. ↑

3 A creeper with long sharp thorns, punctures by which usually cause ulcers. ↑

No. 29

The Pied Robin

At a certain city, while a female Pied Robin1 was digging and digging on a dung-hill, she met with a piece of scraped coconut refuse, it is said. She took it, and put it away, and having gone again, while she was digging and digging there was a lump of rice dust. Having taken it, and put it to soak, she said, “Sister-in-law at that house, Sister-in-law at this house, come and pound a little flour.”2

The women, saying, “No, no, with such a fragment you can pound that little bit yourself,” did not come.

The Pied Robin pounded the flour, and cooking a cake of the size of a rice mat (waṭṭiya), and tying a hair-knot of the size of a box, and putting on a cloth of the breadth of a thumb, while she was going away she met with a Jackal.

The Jackal asked, “Where are you going?”

“Having looked for a [suitable] marriage, I am going to get married,” she said.

The Jackal said, “Would it be bad if you went with me?”3

The bird asked, “What do you eat?”

The Jackal said, “I eat a land crab, and drink a little water.”

Then the bird said, “Chi! Bullock, Chi!” and while going on again she met with a blind man.

The blind man asked, “Where are you going?”

“Having looked for a [suitable] marriage, I am going to get married,” she said.

The blind man said, “Would it be bad if you went with me?”

The bird asked, “What do you eat?”

The blind man said, “Having chewed an eel, I drink a little water.”

Then the bird said, “Chi! Bullock, Chi!” and while going on again she met with a Hunchback, chopping and chopping at a bank (nīra) in a rice field.

The Hunchback said, “Where are you going?”

“Having looked for a [suitable] marriage, I am going to get married,” she said.

The Hunchback said, “Would it be bad if you went with me?”

The bird asked, “What do you eat?”

The Hunchback said, “I eat rice cakes.”

Then the bird having said, “Hā. It is good,” the Hunchback said, “I put rice on the hearth to boil, and came away. You go and look after it.”

After the bird had gone to the Hunchback’s house, she found that the water was insufficient for cooking the rice, and except that it was making a sound, “Kuja tapa tapa, kuja tapa tapa,” it was not cooking.

So the bird went to the Hunchback, and said, “The water is insufficient for cooking the rice. It only says ‘Kuja tapa tapa, kuja tapa tapa.’4 Bring water, O Hunchback.”

The Hunchback became angry [at the nicknames], and having come home, when he was taking a water-pot to the well, a frog sitting on the well mouth jumped into the well, making a sound, “Kujija būs.”5

Then the Hunchback, having drawn and drawn up the water from the well, caught and killed the frog, and tried to fill the water-pot with water. The water continuing, as he poured it, to make a sound “Kuja kuṭu kuṭu, kuja kuṭu kuṭu,”6 except that it splashed up does not fill the water-pot.

Through anger at it, he took the water-pot and struck it against the mouth of the well, and smashed it.

While he was coming home he met a Village Headman. The Village Headman asked, “Where, Mr. Hunchback, did you go?”

The Hunchback said, “What is the journey on which I am going to thee, Bola, O Heretic?” and having come home, killed the Pied Robin, and ate the cakes that the bird brought.

North-western Province.

In Indian Folk Tales (Gordon), p. 59, a large grain measure (pailā) having quarrelled with his wife, the small grain measure (pailī), and beaten her, she ran off, and on her way met with a Crow, which invited her to stay with him. She inquired, “What will you give me to eat and drink, what to wear and what to spend?” The reply being unsatisfactory, she went on, and met a Bagulā (crane or heron), which also invited her to stay, and when asked the same question gave an unsatisfactory answer. She next met a King, who said, “I will place one cushion below you and one above, and whatsoever you desire you may have to eat.” She refused this, and met a dog, who told her that in the King’s store there was much raw sugar, of which they would eat as much as they pleased. She accepted this offer, and they lived in the store; but one day the King’s daughter threw in the scales, which wounded the dog on the head, so the measure jumped out.

1 Polmiccā kirilli. ↑

2 An imitation of the song of the bird, apparently. ↑

3 Māt ekka giyāma nākēyi? ↑

4 “Stooping man, there is heat, heat.” ↑

5 Kujija is a man who stoops. He may have thought it said, “Stooping man, you are refuse.” ↑

6 Kuṭi is a bend. He appears to have interpreted it as, “Stooping man, you are bent, bent.”

All these expressions are imitations of some of the notes of the bird’s song. ↑

No. 30

The Jackal and the Hare

In a certain country there are a Jackal and a Hare living together, it is said.

One day when the Jackal was rubbing himself in the morning in the open space at the front of the house, there was a pumpkin seed in his hair. He took it and planted it. Afterwards, when the Hare went to the open ground, and was rubbing himself, he also had a pumpkin seed in his hair. He, too, took it and planted it. That which the Jackal planted, being without water, died. The Hare having brought water in his ears, and watered his seed, it sprouted, grew large, and bore a fruit.

After the fruit had become large, the Jackal and Hare spoke together, “Friend, with that pumpkin fruit let us eat pumpkin milk-rice.” They also said, “Whence the rice, coconut, and the like, for it?”

Then the Hare said, “We two will go to the path to the shops. You stay in the bushes. I will be lying down in the grass field (piṭiya) at the side of the path. Men going along the road, having placed on the path the articles which they are carrying to the shops, will come to take me. Then you take the goods, and go off to the bushes.”

When the Jackal and Hare had gone to the path that led to the shops, and seen a man coming, bringing a bag of rice, the Hare lay down in the grass field as though dead. The Jackal hid himself and waited.

That man having come up, and seen that the Hare was dead, said, “Appā! Bola, there is meat for me.” So he placed the bag of rice on the road, and went to get the Hare. Then the Jackal came running, and carried off the bag of rice into the bushes. When the man was approaching the Hare, it got up and ran away. So the man had neither the bag of rice nor the Hare. He went home empty-handed (nikam).

Again when the Jackal and Hare were looking out, they saw a man come, bringing a pingo (carrying-stick) load of coconuts, and the Hare went and lay down again in the grass field. The Jackal hid himself and looked out.

Afterwards that man came up, and as he was going on from there he saw that the Hare was lying dead, and saying, “Appā! Bola, there is a Hare,” placed the pingo load of coconuts on the path, and went to get the Hare. The Jackal, taking the pingo load of coconuts, went into the bushes. As that man approached the Hare it got up and ran away. So the man had neither the pingo load of coconuts nor the Hare. He went home empty-handed.

As the Jackal and Hare were looking out again, they saw that a man was bringing a bill-hook and a betel-cutter, which he had got made at the forge. So the Hare went and lay down again in the field.

The man came up, and when going on from there, having seen that the Hare was dead, placed the bill-hook and betel-cutter on the path, and went to get the Hare. Then the Jackal carried the bill-hook and the betel-cutter into the bushes. As that man was coming near to take the Hare, it got up and ran away. So that man had neither the bill-hook, nor the betel-cutter, nor the Hare. He went home empty-handed.

As the Jackal and Hare were looking out again, they saw a potter coming, bringing a pingo load of pots, so the Hare went and lay down again in the grass field. The Jackal hid himself and waited.

When the potter was going on from there, he saw that the Hare was dead, and having placed the pingo load of pots on the path, he went to get it. Then the Jackal, taking the pingo load of pots, went off into the bushes. As the man was coming near the Hare it got up and ran away. So that man had neither the pingo load of pots nor the Hare. He went home empty-handed.

Then the Jackal and Hare took home the bag of rice, and the pingo load of coconuts, and the bill-hook, and the betel-cutter, and the pingo load of pots. After that, having plucked and cut up the pumpkin fruit, and washed the rice, and put it in the cooking pot, and placed it on the fire, and broken the coconut, and scraped out the inside, while squeezing it [in water in order to make coconut-milk], the Jackal said to the Hare, “Friend, I will pour this on the rice, and in the meantime before I take it off the fire, you go, and plucking leaves without a point bring them [to use] as plates.”

While the Hare was going for them, the Jackal ate all the rice, and placed only a little burnt rice in the bottom of the cooking pot. Then he lay down on the ash-heap.

Afterwards the Hare returned, and saying, “Friend, there is not a leaf without a point. I have walked and walked through the whole of this jungle in search of one,” gave into the paws of the Jackal two leaves with the ends bitten off. Then, without getting up, the Jackal said, “Andō! Friend, what is the use of a leaf without a point now? The rice people, the coconut people, the bill-hook and betel-cutter people, the pots people having eaten the rice, and beaten me also, rolled me over on this ash-heap. There will still be a little burnt rice in the bottom of the cooking pot. Scrape it off, and putting a little in your mouth, put a little in my mouth too.” So the Hare having scraped off the burnt rice, and eaten a little of it, put a little in the Jackal’s mouth.

Then the Jackal said, “Friend, a tick is biting my nose; rid me of it.” When the Hare was coming near to rid him of it, the Jackal vomited all over the Hare’s body. Then the Hare bounded off to the river, and jumped into it, and having become clean returned to the place where the Jackal was.

The Jackal asked, “How, Friend, did you become clean?”

The Hare said, “I went to a place where a washerman-uncle is washing clothes, and got him to wash me.”

The Jackal asked, “Where is he washing?”

The Hare said, “Look there! He is washing at the river.”

Afterwards the Jackal went to the river, and said to the washerman-uncle, “Anē! Washerman-uncle, wash me too, a little.”

When the washerman-uncle, having taken hold of the Jackal’s tail, had struck a couple of blows with him on the stone, the Jackal said, “That will do, that will do, washerman-uncle, I shall have become clean now.” But the washerman-uncle, saying, “Will you eat my fowls again afterwards? Will you eat them?” gave him another stroke. Then the washerman-uncle, having washed the clothes, went home.

From that time the Jackal and Hare became unfriendly, and the Jackal said that whenever he saw Hares he would eat them.

North-western Province.

According to a variant, the washerman struck the Jackal on the stone until he was dead.

No. 31

The Leopard and the Mouse-deer

In a jungle wilderness in the midst of the forest there is a rock cave. In the cave a Leopard dwells. One day when the Leopard had gone for food a lame female Mouse-deer (Mīminnī) crept into the cave, and gave birth to two young ones.

Afterwards the Mouse-deer having seen that the Leopard, having got wet at the time of a very great rainfall, was coming to the cave, began to beat the young ones, so the young ones began to squall. Then the Mouse-deer came out, saying, “There is fresh Leopard’s flesh, there is dried Leopard’s flesh; what else shall I give you? Having eaten these, still you are crying in order to eat fresh Leopard’s flesh!”

As the Mouse-deer was saying it, the Leopard heard it, and thought, “They are going to eat me,” and having become afraid, sprang off and ran away, thinking, “I will go to my Preceptor, and tell him.”

Having gone to him, the Jackal said, “What is it, Sir? You are running as though afraid. Why?” he asked.

The Leopard then replied, “Preceptor, the danger that has happened to me is thus: A Mouse-deer having crept into the cave that I live in, and having borne young ones there, as I was returning came shouting and springing to eat me. Through fear of it I came running away,” he said to the Jackal.

The Jackal then said, “What of that! Don’t be afraid. I will come with you and go there. As soon as I go I will bite her and cast her out.”

As they went near the cave, the Leopard having lagged a very little behind, said, “Friend, I cannot go, I cannot go.”

Then the Jackal said, “If you are afraid to that extent, be so good as to go after tying a creeper to my neck, and tying the other end to your waist, Sir,” he said to the Leopard.

So bringing a creeper, and tying one end to the Jackal’s neck, and tying the other end to the Leopard’s waist, they set off to go to the cave.

As they were going there, the Mouse-deer, having seen that the Jackal was bringing the Leopard, began to beat the young ones. When the young ones were squalling, the Mouse-deer having come out, says, “Don’t cry; the Jackal is bringing another Leopard for you.” Then she says to the Jackal, “Jackal-artificer, after I told you to bring seven yoke of Leopards, what has the Jackal-artificer come for, tying a creeper to only this one lean Leopard?”

After she had asked this, the Leopard thought, “They have joined with the Jackal, and are going to kill me,” and began to run off. Then the creeper having become tightened round the Jackal’s neck, the Leopard ran away, taking him along, causing the Jackal-artificer to strike and strike against that tree, this tree, that stone, this stone.

The Leopard having gone a great distance in the jungle, after he looked [found that] the creeper had become thoroughly tightened on the Jackal-artificer’s neck. Having seen that he was grinning and showing his teeth, the Leopard says, “The laugh is at the Jackal-artificer. I was frightened, and there is no blood on my body,” he said.

When he looked again, the Jackal was dead, grinning with his teeth and mouth.

North-western Province.

This story is given in The Orientalist, vol. iv, p. 79 (D. A. Jayawardana), but the animals that went to the cave are wrongly termed tiger and fox, which are not found in Ceylon.

It is also related in vol. iv, p. 121 (S. J. Goonetilleke), the animals being a hind and a tiger.

In vol. i, p. 261, there is a Santal story (J. L. Phillips), in which a goat with a long beard, which had taken refuge in a tiger’s cave frightened it when asked, “Who are you with long beard and crooked horns in my house?” by saying, “I am your father.” A monkey returned with it, their tails being tied together. When they came to the cave, the monkey asked the same question, and received the same answer, which frightened both animals so much that they fled, the monkey’s tail being pulled off. When the tiger stopped, and began to lick himself, he found the monkey’s tail so sweet that he went back and ate the monkey.

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), a bearded goat frightened a lion that he found in a cave in which he took refuge, by saying, “I am the Lord He-goat. I am a devotee of Śiva, and I have promised to devour in his honour 101 tigers, 25 elephants, and 10 lions.” He had eaten the rest, and was now in search of the lions. A jackal persuaded the lion to return, but the goat frightened them again.

In Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 303, a pandit frightened a demon in this manner, by scolding a wrestler who brought for dinner an apparent goat which the pandit recognised as a demon.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 132 ff.—Tales of the Punjab, p. 123 ff.—a farmer’s wife frightened a tiger that was going to eat a cow. A jackal persuaded it to return, their tails being tied together. On the tiger’s running off again, the jackal was jolted to death.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. iv, p. 257, there is a Santal story by Rev. E. T. Cole, of a tiger which was frightened by two brothers. The three sat round a fire and asked riddles. The tiger’s was, “One I will eat for breakfast, and another like it for supper.” The men expressed their inability to guess the answer, and their riddle was, “One will twist the tail, the other will wring the ear.” When the tiger was escaping, they held the tail till it came off.

In Totā Kahānī (Small), p. 98, a lynx took possession of a tiger’s cave, and behaved like the mouse-deer when the tiger came up. When the tiger returned with a monkey, the lynx frightened it like the mouse-deer, by telling its young ones that a monkey friend had sworn to bring a tiger that day. On hearing this, the tiger killed the monkey, and fled.

No. 32

The Crocodile’s Wedding

In a certain country there is a Crocodile in the river, it is said. On the high ground on the other bank there was a dead Elephant. A Jackal of the high ground on this side came to the river bank, and on his saying “Friend,” the Crocodile rose to the surface.

Then the Jackal said, “Now then, how are you getting on, living in that [solitary] way? I could find a wife for you, but to fetch you a mate I have no means of going over to the land on that bank.”

The Crocodile said, “Anē! Friend, if you would become of assistance to me in that way can’t I put you on the other bank?”

The Jackal said, “If so, Friend, put me on the ground on the other side, so that I may go to-day and ask for a mate for you, and come back again.”

Then the Crocodile, placing the Jackal on his back, swam across the river, and after placing the Jackal on the other bank returned to the water.

The Jackal went and ate the body of that dead Elephant. Having eaten it during the whole of that day, he returned again to the river. Having arrived there, when he said “Friend,” the Crocodile rose to the surface and asked the Jackal, “Friend, did you ask for a mate for me?”

Then the Jackal said, “Friend, I did indeed ask for a mate; we have not come to an agreement about it yet. To-morrow I must go again to settle it. On that account put me on the ground on the other side.” So the Crocodile, placing the Jackal on his back, swam across the river, and placed the Jackal on this bank.

Next day, as it became light, the Jackal went to the river, and as he was saying “Friend,” the Crocodile rose to the surface. The Jackal said, “Friend, in order that I may go and make a settlement of yesterday’s affair and return again, put me on the other bank.”

Then the Crocodile, placing the Jackal on his back crossed the river, and having placed the Jackal on the other bank went again into the water.

The Jackal having gone to the dead body of the Elephant, and eaten it even until nightfall, came to the river after night had set in. As he was saying “Friend,” the Crocodile rose to the surface, and asked, “Friend, did you get it settled to-day?”

The Jackal said, “Friend, I have indeed settled the matter. They told me to come to-morrow in order to summon her to come. On that account put me on the far bank.”

After that, the Crocodile, placing the Jackal on his back, went across the river, and having placed the Jackal on the ground on this side returned to the water.

The Jackal next day also, as it became light, went to the river. When he said “Friend,” the Crocodile rose to the surface. The Jackal said, “Friend, if I must bring and give you your mate to-day, put me on the other bank.”

After that, the Crocodile, placing the Jackal on his back, went across the river, and having placed the Jackal on the ground on the other side, went into the water.

The Jackal went that day to the dead body of the Elephant, and having eaten it until nightfall the Elephant’s carcase became finished. In the evening the Jackal came to the river, and when he was saying “Friend,” the Crocodile rose to the surface, and asked, “Friend, where is the mate?”

Then the Jackal said, “Andō! Friend, they made a mistake about it to-day; they told me to return to-morrow to invite her to come. Because of that put me on the other bank again. Having come to-morrow I will bring and give you the mate.”

After that, the Crocodile, placing the Jackal on his back, swam across the river, and having put down the Jackal on the ground on this side, went into the water.

Then the Jackal, sitting down on the high ground on this bank, said to the Crocodile, “Foolish Crocodiles! Is it true that a Jackal King like me is going to ask for a wedding for thee, for a Crocodile who is in the water like thee? I went to the land on that bank to eat the carcase of an Elephant which died on that side. To-day the carcase was finished. So now I shall not come again. Thou art a fool indeed.”

Having said this, the Jackal came away.

North-western Province.

This story is known by the Village Vaeddās.

In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 46, this story is given by Mr. E. Goonetilleke, the Crocodile being termed an Alligator.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 243—Tales of the Punjab, p. 230—there is a variant in which the Jackal was attracted by a fruit-laden wild plum tree. He made love to a lady Crocodile, and was carried across the river by her.

No. 33

The Gamarāla’s Cakes

At a village there are a Gamarāla (a village headman or elder) and a Gama-Mahagē (his wife) and their four sons, it is said.

One day while they were there the Gamarāla said to his wife, “Bolan, it is in my mind to eat cakes. For the boys and for me fry ample cakes, and give us them,” he said.

The Gamarāla was looking out for them for many days; the Gama-Mahagē did not cook and give him the cakes.

Again one day the Gamarāla thought of eating cakes. That day, also, the Gamarāla reminded her of the matter of the cakes. On the following day the Gama-Mahagē having fried five large cakes, placed them in the corn store. The boys having gone to the chena and come back, after they had asked, “Is there nothing to eat?” the Gama-Mahagē said to the boys, “Look there! There are cakes in the corn store. I put them there for father, too; eat ye also,” she said. The boys having gone to the corn store, all four ate the cakes.

After they had eaten them, the Gamarāla, having gone to the watch-hut, came back. After he came the boys said, “Father, we ate cakes.” When the Gamarāla asked, “Where are [some] for me?” “Mother puts them in the corn store,” they said.

When the Gamarāla went to the corn store for the cakes to eat, there were no cakes. “Where, Bolan, are the cakes?” he asked.

Saying, “Why are you asking for them at my hands? If there are none the boys will have eaten them,” the Gama-Mahagē pushed against the Gamarāla.

Then the Gamarāla said, “Now I shall not remind you again. You do not make and give me the food I tell you about.” Having said, “It is good,” and thinking, “Having pounded and taken about half a quart of rice, and given it at a place outside, and got the cakes fried, I must eat them,” pounding the rice he took it away.

As he was going he saw a poor house. Having seen it the Gamarāla thought, “Should I give it at this house, these persons because they are poor will take the rice, and I shall not be able to eat cakes properly.” So having gone to a tiled house near it, and given a little rice, he said, “Make and give me five cakes out of this, please.”

The people of the house replied, “It is good,” and taking a little of the rice fried some cakes. The woman who fried them then looked into the account. “For the trouble of pounding the rice and grinding it into flour, I want ten cakes,” she said. “Also for the oil and coconuts I want ten cakes, and for going for firewood, and for the trouble of frying the cakes, I want ten cakes.” So that on the whole account for cooking the cakes it was made out that the Gamarāla must give five cakes.

Next day the Gamarāla, having eaten nothing at home, came to eat the cakes. Having sat down, “Where are the cakes?” he asked.

Then the woman who fried the cakes said, “Gamarāla, from the whole of the rice I fried twenty-five cakes. For pounding the rice and grinding it into flour I took ten cakes. For the oil and coconuts I took ten cakes. For going for firewood, and for the trouble of frying the cakes ten more having gone, still the Gamarāla must bring and give me five cakes.”

Then the Gamarāla thought, “Aḍā! What a cake eating is this that has happened to me!”

After thinking thus, having gone outside and walked along, and come to that poor house, he sat down. As he was thinking about it that poor man asked, “What is it, Gamarāla, that you are thinking about in that way?”

The Gamarāla said, “The manner in which they fried and gave me cakes at that house,” and he told him about it.

Then the man of that poor house said to the Gamarāla, “Since we are poor you did not give the rice to us. If he had given it to us wouldn’t the Gamarāla have been well able to eat cakes? The Gamarāla having given us the rice would have had cakes to eat, and still five cakes to give for that debt.

“For those cakes I will teach the Gamarāla a trick,” that poor man said to the Gamarāla. “The husband of the woman who fried the cakes has gone to his village. The woman is now connected with another man. Every day the man having come at night taps at the door when he comes. After she has asked from inside the house, ‘Who is it?’ he makes a grunt, ‘Hum.’ Then having opened the door he is given by her to eat and drink. To-day she will give the cakes made for the Gamarāla.

“After the Gamarāla has gone at night in that manner, and tapped at the door, she will ask, ‘Who is it?’ Then say, ‘Hum.’ Then she will open the door. Having gone into the house without speaking, she will give to eat and drink. Having eaten and drunk, and been there a little time, open the door and come away.” Thus the poor man taught his lesson to the Gamarāla.

In that manner, the Gamarāla having gone after it became night, tapped at the house door.1 “Who is it?” she asked. “Hum,” he said. Then having opened the door and taken the Gamarāla into the house, she gave him cakes and sweetmeats to eat.

As he was eating them, some one else having come taps at the door. The Gamarāla became afraid. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, and sent the Gamarāla to the corn loft [under the roof of the house, at the level of the top of the side walls].

Having sent him there she asked, “Who tapped at the door?” “Hum,” he said. Then she opened the door, and after she had looked it was the Tambi-elder-brother,2 who was trading in the village. She got him also into the house, and gave him sweetmeats to eat.

When a little time had gone, again some one tapped at the door. Then the Tambi-elder-brother, having become afraid, prepared to run off without eating the sweetmeats. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, and she put the Tambi also in another part of the corn loft [and he lay down].

Having come back, after she had opened the door and looked, it was the man of the house who, having been to the village, had come back. She gave him water to wash his face, hands, and feet. After he had finished washing, she gave him cakes and the like to eat, and water to drink. The man afterwards lay down to sleep.

When a little time had gone, the man who went first to the corn loft, the Gamarāla, asked for water, saying, “Water, water.” Then the man of the house having opened his eyes, asked, “What is speaking in the corn loft?”

“When you went to the village, as you were away a long time, I made an offering of a leaf-cup of water to the deity. Perhaps the deity is asking for it now,” she said.

Then the man told her to put a coconut in the corn loft. So the woman put a coconut in the corn loft.

The Gamarāla, taking the coconut in his hand, sought for a place on which to strike it [in order to break it, so that he might drink the water in it]. As he was going feeling with his hand, the Gamarāla’s hand touched a lump like a stone in hardness, the head of Tambi-elder-brother. After he touched it, the Tambi-elder-brother [not knowing what it was] through fear trembled and trembled, and did not speak. Then the Gamarāla, taking the coconut, struck it very hard on the head of the Tambi-elder-brother, thinking it was a stone.

The man of the house thought [before this], “The water in the coconut is insufficient for the deity. He will be ascending [and leaving us].” After he had quickly opened the door, and gone out to get more water to give him, the Tambi-elder-brother sprang from the corn loft, breaking his head, and ran away.

Then the man who came out to get the water said, “My deity! Here is water, here is water,” holding the water kettle in his hand. While he was calling out to him, the woman having opened her eyes said, “What is it, Bolan?” As she was coming outside the man said, “The deity jumped down and ran away.”

At that very time, breaking out from the corn loft, the Gamarāla also jumped down and ran off. Then the man of the house asks the woman, “Who is that running away?”

The woman says, “Why, Bolan, don’t you understand in this way? Didn’t the God Saman also run behind him?”

Village Vaeddā of Bintaenna.

1 Gē doraṭa. ↑

2 A Muhammedan trader or pedlar, called “elder brother” in an honorary sense. ↑

No. 34

The Kinnarā and the Parrots

In a large forest there is a great Banyan tree. In that tree many Parrots roost. While they were doing so, one day, having seen a Crow flying near, a Parrot spoke to the other Parrots, and said, “Bolawu,1 do not ye ever give a resting-place to this flying animal,” he said.

While they were there many days after he said it, one day, as a great rain was falling at night, on that day the flying Crow, saying, “Kā, Kā,” came and settled on the tree near those Parrots.

That night one Parrot out of the flock of Parrots was unable to come because of that day’s rain. Having seen that this Crow was roosting on the tree, all the Parrots, surrounding and pecking and pecking the Crow, drove it out in the rain.

Again, saying, “Kā, Kā,” having returned it roosts in the same tree. As the Parrots getting soaked and soaked were driving off the Crow in this way, an old Parrot, sitting down, says, “What is it doing? Because it cannot go and come in this rain it is trying2 to roost here. What [harm] will it do if it be here this little time in our company?” thus this old Parrot said. So the other Parrots allowed it to be there, without driving away the Crow.

While it was there, the Crow in the night left excreta, and in the morning went away. At the place where the excreta fell a tree sprang up [from a seed that was in them]; it became very large.

As it was thus, one day as Kinnarās were going near that [Crows’] village, having seen that another tree was near the tree in which the Parrots roosted, the Kinnarās spoke with each other, “In these days cannot we catch the Parrots that are in this tree?” they said.

Before that, the Kinnarās were unable to catch the Parrots in the tree. There was then only that tree in which the Parrots roosted. When the Kinnarās were going along the tree to catch the Parrots, the Parrots got to know [owing to the shaking of the tree], so all the Parrots flew away. Because of that they were unable to catch the Parrots.

The Kinnarās having [now] gone along the tree which had grown up through the Crow’s dropping the seed under the tree, easily placed the net [over the Parrots’ tree]. All the Parrots having come in the evening had settled in the tree. Having settled down, and a little time having gone, after they looked, all the Parrots being folded in the net were enclosed. The Parrots tried to go; they could not.

While they were under the net in that way, the Parrot Chief says to the other Parrots, “How has another tree grown up under this tree that we live in?” thus the Parrot Chief asked the other Parrots. “At a time when I was not here did ye give a resting-place to any one else?”

Then the Parrots say, “One day when it was raining at night, a Crow having come and stayed here, went away,” they said.

Then the Parrot Chief says, “I told you that very thing, ‘Don’t give a resting-place to any one whatsoever.’ Now we all have become appointed to death. To-morrow morning the Kinnarās having come and broken our wings, seizing us all will go away.”

When a little time had gone, the Parrot Chief [again] spoke to the Parrots, and said, “I will tell you a trick. Should you act in that way the whole of us can escape,” the Parrot Chief said. “When the Kinnarās come near the tree, all of you, tightly shutting your eyes and mouths, be as though dead, without even flapping your wings. Then the Kinnarās, thinking we are dead, having freed us one by one from the net, when they are throwing us down on the ground, and have taken and placed all there, fly away after they have thrown down the last one on the ground,” he said.

“That is good,” they said.

While they were there, a Kinnarā, tying a large bag at his waist, having come to the bottom of the tree, says, “Every day [before], I couldn’t [catch] ye. To-day ye are caught in my net.”

Having ascended the tree, as he was going [along it] the Kinnarā says, “What is this, Bola? Are these dead without any uncanny sound?” Having climbed onto the tree, after he looked [he saw that] a part having hung neck downwards, a part on the branches, a part in the net, they were as though dead.

Then the Kinnarā saying, “Aḍā! Tell ye the Gods! Yesterday having climbed the tree I had no trouble in spreading the net; to-day having come to the tree I have no trouble in releasing the net. Aḍā! May the Gods be witnesses of the event that has occurred! What am I to do with these dead bodies!” and freeing and freeing each one from the net, threw it down on the ground.

As he threw them to the ground he said “One” at the first one that he threw to the ground, and having taken the account [of them], after all had fallen, at the time when the Kinnarā, freeing the net, was coming descending from the tree, the whole flock of Parrots went flying away.

Village Vaeddā of Bintaenna.

A version of this story from the North-western Province, by a Durayā, though shorter, contains the same incidents, the tree, however, being another Fig, the Aehaetu, Ficus tsiela. It ends as follows—

“As he [the Kinnarā] was throwing them down in this way, having been counting and counting ‘One,’ the Parrot which he counted last having flapped its wings and screamed, [according to a pre-arranged plan, to show] that the man was cheated and that it had escaped, flew away. All the Parrots having gone, after they had looked into the account of the whole flock [found that] they were all correct.

“Then the Parrots said, ‘Let us not give a resting-place to the Crow. At the places where he goes he is a dangerous one. To us also, this danger came now [through him]. Aḍā! Because we gave this one a resting-place. O Vishnu, burst thou lightning on him who did this to us! Aḍā! Where shall we all go now?’ After flying and flying in the midst of the forest, all went to each place where they had relatives.”

The story is given in Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 114, with the variations that a thousand crows came to the tree instead of one, and that snares of thread were used in place of the net. The last parrot did not escape, but was taken away and sold.

In Totā Kahānī (Small), p. 64, when a parrot and its young ones were caught in a net they feigned death. All the young ones escaped by this means. The mother was captured and sold to the King, and regained her liberty by pretending to fetch some medicine to cure his illness.

1 Plural of Bola, regarding which see No. 5. ↑

2 Lit. “making.” ↑

No. 35

How a Jackal settled a Lawsuit.

In a village there is a rich foolish man. One son was born to the man. When they had been there in that way for a long time, as the rich man’s son was growing up, his father died. Then all this wealth came into the hands of his son. The son was a fool just like the father.

One day, having seen a wealthy man going in a carriage in which a horse was yoked, that rich man’s son thought he ought to go in that way in a carriage in which a horse was yoked. This rich man having gone home spoke to a servant, and said, “I will give thee thy expenses for going and coming. Go thou, and buy and bring me a horse,” he said. Having said it, he gave him a hundred masuran, and having given them sent him away.

This servant having gone on and on, went to a great big country. Having gone there, he made inquiry throughout the country—“Are there horses to sell in this country?”

Then a man of that country said, “The Gamarāla of this country has many horses,” he said. This servant who went to bring horses having given a masurama to the man whom he had met, said, “Please show me the house of the Gamarāla who has the horses,” he said. So the man, calling the servant, having gone to the Gamarāla’s house, sent him there.

The Gamarāla asked these men, “What have you come here for?”

The servant who went to get horses said, “I have come to take a horse for money,” he said.

“For whom?” he asked.

“For a rich man in a village,” he said.

Having given fifty masuran he got a horse. After he got it he again gave a masurama to that man who went with him. Having given it, and the two persons having gone a considerable distance,1 this man left both the horse and the man to go [alone], and went home.

When the servant had taken the horse, and gone a considerable distance, after he looked [he found that] night was coming on. On seeing it, taking the horse and saying, “This night I cannot go,” having sought and sought for a resting-place, he met with a place where there were chekkus (mills for expressing oil). There this man found a resting-place; and having tied the horse to an oil-mill, this servant went to a village, and ate and drank, and having returned went to a shed at the side of the oil-mill, and lay down to sleep. Having become much fatigued because he had brought this horse very far, the servant went to sleep.

At dawn, the man who owned the oil-mill, having arisen and come near the oil-mill, when he looked saw that a horse was tied near the oil-mill. So this man thought, “Last night the oil-mill gave birth to a horse”; and unloosing it from the place where it was tied, the owner of the oil-mill, having taken the horse home, tied it in the garden.

Then the servant having opened his eyes, after he looked, because the horse was not near the oil-mill went seeking it. Having seen it tied in a garden close to a house, he spoke to the [people in the] house, “Having tied this horse near the oil-mill, in the night I went to sleep. This one breaking loose in the night came here.” Unfastening it, as he was making ready to go, the man who owned the house came running, [and saying], “Where did my oil-mill give birth to this horse for thee last night?” he brought the horse back, and began to scold the servant. Then the servant thought, “Now I shall not be allowed to go and give this horse to the rich man. Because of it, I must go for a lawsuit.”

As he was going seeking a trial he met with a place where lawsuits were heard. The servant having gone [there] told the judge about the business: “When I was bringing yesterday the horse that I am taking for a rich man, it became night while I was on the road. As there was no way to go or come, I tied and placed the horse at this oil-mill, and went to sleep. Having arisen in the morning, after I looked, because the horse that I brought was not there I went looking and looking along its foot-prints. Having seen that it was tied in the garden near the house of the oil-mill worker, thinking, ‘This one breaking loose has come here,’ I unfastened it. As I was making ready to bring it away, having scolded me and said that the oil-mill gave birth to the horse, he took it,” he said to the judge; and stopped.

Then the judge says, “If the oil-mill gave birth to the horse, the horse belongs to the man who owns the oil-mill,” the judge said.

The servant having become grieved says, “What am I to do now? Without the masuran which the rich man gave me, and without the horse that I got after giving fifty masuran, having gone to the village what shall I say to the rich man, so that I may escape?” he said with much grief.

Then a Jackal having come there along the same road, and having seen it, asks the servant, “Because of what matter are you going sorrowing in this way?”

The servant says to the Jackal, “Jackal-artificer,2 is the trouble that happened to me right to thee, according to what was said?”

As they were going along, the Jackal, having gone behind him, asks again, “Tell me a little about it, and let us go. More difficult things than that have happened to us—folds [full] of scare-crows tangled together. As we cleared up those with extreme care there is no difficulty in clearing up this also.” So the Jackal-artificer said to the servant.

Then the servant told the Jackal the way in which the rich man gave the servant one hundred masuran; the way in which, having given fifty masuran, he got the horse; the way in which, having brought the horse, he tied and placed it at the oil-mill; the way in which the oil-mill owner, unfastening the horse, went and tied it; the way in which, after he went to ask for it he would not give it, saying that the oil-mill gave birth to the horse, and came to scold him; then also what the judge said. The servant told [these] to the Jackal-artificer, making all clear.

Then the Jackal-artificer says, “Anē! That’s thick work. I’ll put that right for you. You must assist me also,” he said. “You yourself having gone near the judge again, and made obeisance, you must say, ‘The oil-mill did not give birth to the horse. The owner of the oil-mill, unfastening it from the place where I tied it, took it away. I have evidence of it. Having heard the evidence please do what you want,’ ” so the Jackal taught him.

So the servant having gone, made obeisance to the judge. “What have you come again for?” the judge asked.

Then the servant says, “The oil-mill did not give birth to the horse. Unfastening it from the place where I tied it, and having gone, he tied it up. I have evidence of it. Having heard the evidence do what you want, Sir,” he said.

The judge says, “It is good. Who is your witness?”

“The Jackal-artificer,” he said. So the judge sent a message to the Jackal to come. That day the Jackal did not come. On the following day, also, he sent a message. He did not come. Next day he sent a message. That day the Jackal, having thoroughly prepared himself, came to the judgment court.

After the judge asked, “Dost thou know about this lawsuit?” “Yes, Sir,” the Jackal-artificer said.

“Why didst thou not come yesterday,” the judge asked the Jackal.

“Yesterday I did not come; I saw the sky,” he said. While saying it the Jackal was sleepy.

Again he asked, “Why didst thou not come on the first day?”

“On that day I saw the earth,” he said. While saying it the Jackal was sleepy.

“Why hast thou come to-day?” he asked.

“To-day I saw the fire,” he said.

“Having seen the sky why didst thou not come?” the judge asked.

Then the Jackal says, “O Lord, the sky cannot be trusted. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it clears up. Because of that I did not come.” Having said it he was sleepy.

“Having seen the earth why didst thou not come?” he asked.

“That also cannot be trusted,” he said. “In some places there are mounds, in some places it is flat; in some places there is water, in some places there is not water,” he said. Having said it he was sleepy.

“What hast thou come to-day for?” the judge asked.

“To-day I saw the fire,” he said. “Because of that I came,” he said. Then the Jackal says, “After the fire has blazed up you do not look after your cold hut. I do not look after my palace also.”3 Having said it the Jackal was sleepy.

On account of that saying the judge having become angry, “Being here what art thou sleeping for?” he asked.

“Anē! O Lord who will become a thousand Buddhas [in future existences], I am very sleepy indeed,” he said.

“Why, Bola?” he asked.

“Last night I went to look at the fishes sporting on the land. Because of that I am sleepy,” he said.

Then the judge having become angry with the Jackal, says very severely, “Having beaten him, cast ye him out.”

This rascally Jackal having prayed with closed paws, saying, “O Lord, who will become a thousand Buddhas,” fell down and made obeisance.

“In what country, Bola, Jackal, do the fish who are in the water sport on the land?” the judge asked the Jackal.

The Jackal said, “I must receive permission [to ask also a question], O Lord. How does an oil-mill which expresses the kinds of oils give birth to horses?”

Then the judge, having become ashamed and his anger having gone, told the rich man’s servant to take away the horse.

Village Vaeddā of Bintaenna.

In Indian Fables, p. 45, Mr. P. V. Ramaswami Raju gives a South Indian variant of the latter part of this story. A thief stole a horse that was tethered to a tree, and then stated that he saw the tree eat the horse. The case was referred to a fox [jackal]. The fox said he felt dull. “All last night the sea was on fire; I had to throw a great deal of hay into it to quench the flames, so come to-morrow and I shall hear your case.” When he was asked how hay could quench flames, he replied, “How could a tree eat up a horse?”

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 142, there is a story about a foal that was born in the night while a mare was left near an oil-press, and was claimed by the oil man. The King who tried the case decided that the “mare could not possibly have had this foal, because, you see, it was found standing by the oil-press.” A jackal assisted the owner to recover it, and fell down several times in the court, explaining that during the night the sea caught fire, and he was tired out by throwing water on it with a sieve, to extinguish it. When asked how this could be possible, the jackal retorted by inquiring if any one in the world ever heard of an oil-press’s bearing a foal.

In the interior of West Africa there is a variant, given in Contes Soudanais (C. Monteil), p. 23. A mare was buried near a house, and a pumpkin spread from the adjoining piece of land, until it extended round the stake to which she was formerly tied. When the owner of the pumpkin split open a fruit that grew near the stake, there were two foals inside it, which the owner of the mare claimed. The judgment was that as a dead mare could not bear foals nor a pumpkin contain horses, neither of the claimants had a right to the foals; but as one sowed the pumpkin, and the other had watered it, each should take one foal.

In another tale in the same volume, p. 141, a hyaena had a bull and a hare a cow, which bore a calf in the hare’s absence. This was claimed by the hyaena, as having been borne by the bull. The dispute was referred to a male rat, which sent its young ones to say that it could not leave its hole, as it was about to bear young ones. When the hyaena laughed at the idea, and inquired when such an occurrence had been known, the rat replied, “Since it has been the bulls which bore calves.”

1 Hungak dura, “a great deal far,” a common village expression. ↑

2 Nari-nayidē; see also No. 56, and p. 28. ↑

3 The meaning is that no appearances can be trusted, not even those of the earth and sky; but that sometimes untrustworthy things, even such a dangerous thing as fire, are wrongly trusted. He was referring to the judge’s acceptance of the ridiculous statement regarding the birth of the horse. ↑

No. 36

The Jackal and the Turtle

At a village there is a large pond. At the margin of the pond two Storks1 live. When they had been eating the small fishes in that pond in that way for a long time, the pond became dried up by a very great drought. These two Storks having eaten the small fishes in the pond until they were becoming finished, one day a Stork of these two Storks having spoken to the other Stork, says, “Friend, now then, that we have been here is no matter to us. Because of it let us go to another district.” Thus he spoke.

Now, a Turtle stayed in the pond. The Turtle having heard the speech of these two Storks, the Turtle says, “Anē! Friends, I also now have been staying in this pond a long time. The pond having now dried up, I also have nothing to eat, nor water to be in, and nowhere to go. Because of it, friends, having taken me to the village to which you two go, put me down there,” the Turtle said to the two Storks.

Then one Stork says to the Turtle, “Anē! Bola, foolish Turtles! How wilt thou go with us to another village?”

Then the Turtle says, “Anē! Friends, I indeed cannot go flying to the village to which you go. You two somehow or other having gone with me must put me there.”

Then the two Storks say to the Turtle, “If thou, shutting thy mouth, wilt remain without speaking anything, we two having gone to the place where there is water will put thee down there,” the two Storks said.

Having said this they brought a stick, and said to the Turtle, “Grasp the middle of this stick tightly with the mouth, and hold it tightly.”

Having said this, the two Storks [holding the stick near the ends] took the Turtle. While they were going flying, as they were going above a dried field a Jackal saw the shadow going with the two Storks carrying the Turtle. Having seen it the Jackal says, “Isn’t this a troublesome comrade they are taking?”

Then the Turtle having become angry, says, “The troublesome comrade whom they are taking is for thy mother.” So the Turtle’s mouth was opened. Then the Turtle fell on the ground. The two Storks left him and went away.

The Jackal having come running, after he looked saw the Turtle, and turning and turning it over to eat, when he tried to eat it the Turtle says, “I have now for a long time been staying dried up without water. In that way you cannot eat me. Having gone with me to a place where there is water and put me in it, should I become soaked you will be able to eat me,” he said to the Jackal.

Then the Jackal having taken hold of the Turtle with his mouth, and placed it in a pond containing water, when he had been treading on it [to prevent it from escaping] for a little time, the Turtle says, “Now every place is soaked. Under the sole of your foot, Sir, I have not got wet. Should you raise the sole of your foot a little it would be good,” it said. So the Jackal raised the foot a little. Then the Turtle crept to the bottom of the mud. The Jackal quickly seized the Turtle [by its leg] again.

After he had caught it the Turtle says, “The Jackal-elder-brother being cheated has got hold of the Keṭala [plant] root.” The Jackal-elder-brother quickly having let go the Turtle, speedily got hold of the Keṭala root that was near by. Then the Jackal being unable [to go deeper], the Turtle going yet a little further in the water, says, “Bola! Even to-day you are Jackals! When didst thou eat us?”

Many Jackals prated to the Jackal about the Turtle. On account of the Jackal’s being unable to eat the Turtle or to seize it, he became much ashamed. While he was there, having contrived and contrived a trick, saying he must somehow or other kill the Turtle, another Jackal came there to drink water. Having drunk water, he asks the other Jackal, “What, friend, are you thinking of and clenching your nails about?”

Then the Jackal who was unable to seize the Turtle, says, “Friend, a Turtle cheated me, and went into this pond. Having become angry on account of that, I am looking for it in order to kill that one should that one come onto the land,” he said to the other Jackal.

That Jackal says, “Āē, Bola! Fool! How many Turtles are there yet in the pond? How canst thou seek out the one that cheated thee?” the Jackal that came to drink water said.

Every day in that manner this Jackal comes to the pond to drink water. One day when he came to drink water, having seen that a crowd of Turtles are grimacing on the lotus, the Jackal says, “If ye and we be friends, how much advantage we can gain by it!” Having spoken thus on that day the Jackal went away.

Having gone, when he met the Jackal whom the Turtle cheated he said, “Friend, having met with a crowd of Turtles while they were in the pond to-day, I spoke words [to them]. We must devise together a trick to kill them.” Having said this the two Jackals talked together.

Again, on a day when the Jackal went to the pond to drink water, having seen in the [same] way as on that day the Turtles grimacing on the lotus, the Jackal says, “How can ye and we remain in this manner? Should ye and we, both parties, take wives [from each other] wouldn’t it be good?” the Jackal asked the Turtles.

Then the Turtles say, “If so, indeed how good it would be!”

“Then one day we will come and speak with ye [about] the wedding.” Having said this the Jackal went away.

Having gone he says to the Jackals, “[After] speaking words with the Turtles who are in that pond regarding taking and giving wives I have come away.”

Then the other Jackals said, “It is very good. Some day let us all go.” So they spoke.

Again on a day, after the Jackal had gone to the pond to drink water, on that day, having seen that Turtles more than on the other day were [there], he says, “Friends, to-day about all of you are [here]. Because of it, on what day will it be good to come and summon [our wives]?” he asked.

“We will say in a day or two days,” they said.

The Jackal having drunk water and having gone, said to the other Jackals, “They said they will say in a day or two days [on which day we are to go to summon our wives].”

Then the Jackal whom the Turtle cheated said, “In some way or other we must completely destroy them. Friends, somehow or other having gone and spoken about this wedding, make ready quickly,” he said.

On the following day this Jackal went to drink water, and to speak about the wedding. Having drunk water the Jackal asked the Turtles, “When will it be good to come?”

“To-morrow will be good,” the Turtles said.

Then the Jackal says, “We shall all come. All ye also having got ready be present.”

Having said this, the Jackal quickly came running, and after all the Jackals had collected together, said, “Let nobody of ye go anywhere to-morrow. We must all go to call the Turtles for the wedding, and return.”

The Jackal whom the Turtle cheated said, “Somehow or other having sought out the Turtle that cheated me and called it to the wedding, I must torture it and kill it,” he said.

After that, all the Jackals having collected together, started to go to call the Turtles for the wedding. Having set off, the Jackal who drank water at the pond having gone in front to invite the Turtles [to be ready], said, “They are coming to summon you to the wedding. All ye having prepared for it be pleased to be quite ready,” he said.

Then all the Turtles having come and climbed onto the branches of trees fallen in the pond, were looking out.

The Jackal who came with the message having gone back near the Jackals, said, “All the Turtles having climbed on the trees and the branches, are present looking out till we come.”

Well then, all the Jackals having started, while they were going with the tom-tom beaters, the Jackal who drank water at the pond said, “You stay here. I will go and look if the Turtles are coming or what.”

Having gone, after he looked [he saw that] all the Turtles in the trees, more than the Jackals, all having climbed onto the branches, were looking out. Having seen [this] the Jackal says, “Haven’t you tom-toms, drums, kettle-drums?” the Jackal asked the Turtles. “There! we indeed are coming beating well the tom-toms, kettle-drums, drums, and [blowing] trumpets,” he said.

Then the Turtle Chief said, “Beat our tom-toms,” he said.

Then all the Turtles began to beat tom-toms by singing, “Gaja, Gaja; Gora, Gora; Baka, Baka,” enough to destroy the ears.

Then the Jackal having come running to the front of the Jackals, said, “All the Turtles having climbed completely along the branches of the trees are there. We all having gone near the Turtles must go along the trees that we can mount onto, and seize the Turtles,” he said.

Then the Jackal Chief said, “Not so. As we come very near the Turtles beat this tom-tom verse,” he said. Then all at a leap having jumped onto the trees where the Turtles are he told them to seize them. The very tom-tom verse that he told the tom-tom beaters to beat on the tom-toms is, “Ehe; Kaṭa, kaṭa, kaṭa. Ehe; Kaṭa, kaṭa, kaṭa.”

Then when they were far off, the Turtles having seen the Jackals coming, said, “There they are, Bola. Now then, get ready.”

As they were coming near, beating the tom-toms, “Ehe; Kaṭa, kaṭa, kaṭa. Ehe; Kaṭa, kaṭa, kaṭa,” the Turtles having heard all this, all the Turtles began to cry out, “Baka, Baka,” as they came near.

Then, as they came very near, singing “Baka, Baka,” all the Turtles sprang into the pond [and disappeared].

On account of this thing that they did, the Jackals became still more ashamed. “These Cattle-Turtles have cheated us,” they said; and having become angry, went away.

The way the Jackal-artificers called the Turtles to the wedding is good.

Village Vaeddā of Bintaenna.

The first part of this tale is found in the Jātaka story No. 215 (vol. ii, p. 123). In it two Hansas or sacred Geese asked a Turtle to accompany them to their home, a golden cave in the Himālayas. They carried it like the Storks. The Jackal is not introduced at all. Some village children saw the Turtle in the air, and made a simple remark to that effect. The Turtle, wishing to reply, opened its mouth, and was smashed by falling in the King’s court-yard.

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), as well as in a variant of the North-western Province of Ceylon, and elsewhere in the island, the story does not end at this point, but with the escape of the Turtle after the Jackal had soaked it in the water.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 37, the story ends with the fall of the Turtle, which was being carried to a lake in which there was water. In this case, as in the Jātaka story, the point to be illustrated only required the Turtle to fall and be killed.

The variant of the North-western Province is practically identical with the first part of the Vaeddā tale, but the drought is stated to have lasted for seven years. The Jackal was about to howl, and on turning his head upward for the purpose saw two Black Storks carrying the Turtle.

He asked, “Where are you taking a present?” (referring to the way in which a considerable load is sometimes carried slung on a stick, the ends of which rest upon the shoulders of two men, one in front and the other behind). The Turtle replied, “For your mother’s head.” When the Jackal tried to eat it he heard the Turtle laughing inside the shell, and said, “Friend, what are you laughing at?” The Turtle said, “I am laughing at your thinking you can eat me in that way. I have been dried up for seven years, and if you want to eat me you must first soak me in water.” The Jackal did this, and the Turtle escaped in the way related by the Vaeddās.

The rest of the story is, I think, found only among the Vaeddās. Although it is clear that it must have been invented by the settled inhabitants of villages, the marriage custom according to which the bride was to be taken to the bridegroom’s house to be married is not that of the modern Sinhalese, but is in accordance with the story related in the Mahāvansa, i, p. 33, regarding the marriage of a Vaedi Princess at the time of Wijaya’s landing in Ceylon. The Sinhalese custom is found in the story of the Glass Princess (No. 4), in which six Princes accompanied by their parents, went to their brides’ city to be married, returning home with their brides afterwards.

It is probable that the original story ended with the escape of the Turtle from the Jackal after it was placed in the water. It is a folk-tale, and not a story written to illustrate a maxim. It appears to have been invented to show the folk-lore superiority of the Turtle’s intelligence over that of the Jackal. The Turtle is always represented as a very clever animal, not only because of the ease with which he can protect himself by withdrawing his head and legs inside the shell—of which Mr. A. Clark, formerly of the Forest Department of Ceylon, and I once had an amusing illustration at a pool in the Kanakarayan-āṛu, when his bull-terrier made frantic attempts to kill one, like the Jackal—but possibly also because, as I was told of another amphibious animal in West Africa, “he lives both in the water and on the land, therefore he knows the things of both the land and the water.”

In The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 134, the story as far as the escape of the Turtle was given by Mr. H. A. Pieris, the animals concerned being wrongly termed Tortoise, Cranes, and Fox; the two latter animals are not found in Ceylon. To this the Editor added the story found in the Hitōpadesa, in which the animals were a Turtle and two Geese, which agreed to carry the Turtle to another lake in order that it might not be killed by some fishermen next day. Some herdsmen’s boys saw it, and remarked that if it fell they would cook and eat it. The Turtle replied, “You shall eat ashes,” fell down, and was killed by the men.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 37, the birds were “Swans” (probably Hansas, which are always represented as geese in ancient carvings in Ceylon). Some men made remarks to each other on the strange object that was being carried, and the Turtle, on asking the birds what the chattering was about, fell and was killed by the men.

In Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 310, a Jackal escaped from an Alligator [Crocodile] in the same manner as the Turtle.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 155—Tales of the Punjab, p. 147—an Iguana or Monitor Lizard outwitted a Jackal who had caught him by the tail as he was entering the hole in which he lived. Both pulled for a long time without any result. At last the Lizard said he gave in, and requested the Jackal to allow him to turn round and come out. When released he disappeared into the hole.

1 Kokkā, a word applied to several species of large waders. The name of the Black Stork is Mānā, but probably this is the bird referred to, as in the Sinhalese variant. ↑

No. 37

The Lion and the Turtle

In a jungle there is a Lion King. While he was there, one day there was no prey for the Lion King when he was walking about seeking it. He obtained nothing as prey that day. As the Lion through fatigue was staying below a great big tree, avoiding the heat, he went to sleep.

While he was sleeping, a Turtle came out [of the bushes], having set off to go away from there. As he was going along, a “sara, sara” sound was heard, having been made by the dry leaves. The Lion King having opened his eyes1 at the sound of this Turtle’s going, after he had looked saw the Turtle, and having become angry sprang at once near the Turtle. Having said, “Bola! What art thou going on a rapid journey in this manner for? Didst thou not see that I am [here]?” the Lion King pushed against the Turtle.

Then the Turtle says, “O Lord who will become a thousand Buddhas [in future existences], I didn’t come to cause you alarm, Sir; I am walking to procure my food,” the Turtle said to the Lion King.

“What art thou going to seek and eat in this forest?” the Lion asked.

Then the Turtle says, “O Lord, I am walking to obtain and eat any sort of things that I can eat,” the Turtle said.

Then anger having gone to the Lion, he sprang to eat the Turtle. Then the Turtle, having brought his head inside, became like a stone. After he became thus, the Lion turning the Turtle to that side and to this side, and having clawed him and bitten him, looked at him, having been unable to do anything to him. After he had been looking the Lion says, “Having been like a what-is-it stone, didn’t you preach to me in overbearing words?”

When he had been looking at him a little time, as the Turtle, having put his head outside again, was going off, the Lion says, “Bola, art thou a being who can do anything?”

“O Lord, the things that you, Sir, can do you do. I do the things that I can do,” the Turtle said.

“Bola, canst thou, who endest by drawing slowly and slowly what is like a lump of stone, run, jump, roar, swim in rivers that way and this way, equal to me? And what canst thou do to me, who having roared and caused the bottom of the ears to burst, and killed every animal, eats it?” the Lion said.

Then the Turtle says, “You, Sir, frighten and eat even all. You cannot frighten and kill, nor eat, me except on land. In the water, you, Sir, cannot swim that side and this side equal to me,” the Turtle said to the Lion.

After the Lion, having become angry, said, “Wilt thou come to swim that side and this side with me? If not, I will put thee under a large stone,” the Turtle having become afraid that he would kill him, having given his word to swim with the Lion that side and this side in a river, went near the river.

Having gone [there] the Turtle met with yet a Turtle, and said, “Friend, a great trouble has befallen me to-day.” After the friendly Turtle asked, “What is it, friend?” the other Turtle says, “The Lion King has come and wagered with me to swim that side and this side,” he said.

Then the Turtle says, “Why are you afraid of that, friend? Say, ‘It is good.’ I will tell you a good trick; you act in that way. What is it? You place a red flower in your mouth. I will place a red flower in my mouth. You having been on this side with the Lion King, and having sprung into the river and hidden at the bottom of the water very near there, remain [there]. I having hidden near the river bank on that side will be [there]. The Lion King having come swimming, as he is going to land on that side, I being near the river bank and having said, ‘Kūrmarsha,’2 taking the flower will land [before him]. You also in that way having been hidden near the bank on this side, as the Lion King is going to land, having said, ‘Kūrmarsha,’ quickly land [before him].” The friendly Turtle having said [this], hid at the bottom of the water near the bank on that side of the river.

The Turtle that spoke with the Lion went near the Lion. Then the Lion asks, “Art thou coming to swim?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Turtle said.

Then [after they had gone to the river] the Lion said to the Turtle, “Thou, having swum in front, be off. I having come slowly shall get in front of thee,” he said.

Then the Turtle, also holding a red flower in his mouth, having descended to the river, and having gone a little far, got hid at the bottom of the water. While it was hidden, as the Lion was going swimming near the river bank, the other Turtle which stopped at that side, having got in front before the Lion landed, and said, “Kūrmarsha,” having placed a red flower also in his mouth, landed on the river bank at once.

The Lion having seen him, again sprang into the river. As he came to this side, the Turtle that remained at the bank at this side, having got in front of the Lion at once, taking the flower also, said, “Kūrmarsha,” and landed.

Again the Lion swam to the other side. In that very way the Turtle having been there and said, “Kūrmarsha,” landed [in front of him].

Thus, in that way, when swimming seven or eight times, the Lion, who was without even any prey that day, having become unable to swim, and being without strength in the middle of the river, died.

Village Vaeddā of Bintaenna.

In a variant of the North-western Province, the Lion lived in a cave, and met the Turtle when he went to the river to drink. He told the Turtle that it was unable to travel quickly because it always lived in one place. The Turtle shrugged its shoulders, and replied, “Can you travel better than I?” The Lion challenged it to race with him, and the Turtle accepted the challenge, fixing the time eight days later.

The race of the two animals was not across the river, but along it, a series of Turtles having been stationed at various points where it was arranged that the Lion should come to the bank and call out, “Friend.” At each place a Turtle rose on hearing this, and said, “What is it, friend?” At the fifth stage, the Lion leapt over two stages as quickly as one, and broke his neck.

The resemblance of the race in this variant to that between Brer Rabbit and Brer Tarrypin in Uncle Remus is striking; it even extends to the number of stages, five in both stories.

In The Orientalist, vol. i, pp. 87, 88, Mr. W. Goonetilleke gave a variant from Siam, by Herr A. Bastian, in which the animals were the Garuḍa [or Rukh] and the Turtle; and two others by Lord Stanmore, from Fiji, where the animals were a Crane and a Crab in one instance, and a Crane and a Butterfly in the other, the insect being perched on the bird’s back during the race.

1 Aehae aeragassi. ↑

2 Apparently this is Kūrma, turtle + marsha, √mṛish. The meaning would be “Permit the Turtle” (to precede you). In The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 87, in which this part of the story is also given, it is stated that there is a saying, Kūrmaya prativādena sin̥hasya maraṇan̥ yathā, “As the death of the lion by the reply [? Kūrmarsha] of the turtle.” ↑

Part II

STORIES TOLD
OF OR BY
THE LOWER CASTES

No. 38

The Monkey and the Weaver-bird

In the midst of a forest there were a Wandurā (a large grey Monkey, Semnopithecus) and a Weaver-bird.

One day the Monkey came to the tree in which the Weaver-bird lodged, and after that a great rain-storm began. The Weaver-bird without getting wet remained in much comfort in its nest; the Monkey stayed in a fork of the tree, getting thoroughly soaked.

Then the Weaver-bird said, “Why does a person endowed with hands and feet, and strength, like thee, get soaked in this rain? Such a small animal as I am having built a house stays in it without getting wet. Not a drop of rain leaks into it. If I were equal to thee I should build a good house.”

On account of that remark the Monkey became angry, and saying, “What is my business to thee?” broke down the nest of the Weaver-bird.

Then the Weaver-bird went to the [Monkey] King, and instituted an action [against the Monkey]. Afterwards, orders were issued by the King to seize the Monkey. After remaining in concealment, the Monkey, thinking, “If I should be caught they will kill me,” plucked a Jak fruit, and went with it to the King. After that [the King] caused the Weaver-bird to be brought, so that he might try the case.

As he was inquiring into the case, it came to be accepted that on account of his breaking down the nest the fault lay with the Monkey. Then the Monkey said, “The action is coming to an end. Will the Maharaja be pleased to look behind me?”

At that very time, when the King having considered [his judgment], looked around, he saw that there was a Jak fruit behind the Monkey. Then the King, thinking, “The Jak fruit has been brought to be given to me for the sake of obtaining my favour,” said to the Weaver-bird, “The fault is in thy hands. Whether he gets soaked or however he may be, it is no affair of thine.”

Having said this, the King drove her away; and the Monkey, having given him the Jak fruit, went away.

At that time animals were able to talk.

Potter. North-western Province.

The first part of this story is given in the Hitōpadesa, but not the trial before the Monkey King.

No. 39

The Jackal Dēvatāwā

In a certain country there was a dead Elephant, it is said. A Jackal having gone to eat the Elephant’s carcase, and having eaten and eaten a hole into the Elephant from behind, passed inside it. While he was eating and eating the carcase of the Elephant as he remained inside it, the skin [dried and] became twisted up, and the path by which the Jackal entered became closed.

A man who was a tom-tom beater was going near it, taking a tom-tom for a devil-dance. Then among the bones the sound of tom-tom beating was heard. So the Jackal asked, “Who is going here?”

The tom-tom beater said, “I am going to this devil-dance.”

The Jackal said, “What art thou going this way for, without permission?”

The tom-tom beater replied, “O Lord, I am going without knowing about this [permission’s being necessary].”

The Jackal asked, “What wilt thou obtain for the dancing?”

The tom-tom beater said, “I receive presents and the like.”

Then the Jackal said, “I will give thee a present better than money. It is owing to thy good luck that thou hast come this way. I am a Dēvatāwā (deity) who is guarding his own treasure here. If I am to give thee the treasure, split one eye (end) of the tom-tom which is in thy hand, and having filled it with water and brought it here, pour it on this Elephant.”

After that, the tom-tom beater having plucked out the eye of the tom-tom, filling it with water brought it, and poured it on the Elephant’s dried up carcase. The Jackal, also, sitting inside it, worked and worked it into the skin with its muzzle. Having made the skin pliable it sprang out, and went away.

When this man looked inside, no deity was there, but there were many maggots. So the man, taking his broken tom-tom, went home.

In a few days afterwards, a rain having fallen, the Elephant’s carcase floated, and went down into the water-course. From the water-course it passed down to the stream. A flock of crows covered the carcase. As they were going eating and eating the dead body, it descended into the river, and from the river it passed down to the great sea. There the skin having rotted began to fall to the bottom. After the crows had looked [around], there was not even a tree [to be seen], and before they were able to fly to a place where there were trees their wings were broken, and they died.

Washerman. North-western Province.

A variant related in another village is nearly the same. Some tom-tom beaters passing the Elephant’s carcase were accosted by the Jackal, to whom they replied that they were going to “a pōya tom-tom beating,” that is, one given on the Buddhist sabbath, at the quarter of the moon. When he inquired what profit they would get from it, they stated that they would receive cakes and milk-rice. “You don’t want cakes and milk-rice,” he said, “I will give you gold. Bring water to this Elephant’s carcase.” They did so, breaking open the “eyes” of their tom-toms for the purpose, and the Jackal escaped.

The story concludes: “For the tom-tom beaters there was neither gold, nor cakes and milk-rice. Having broken their tom-toms, lamenting and lamenting they went to their village.”

In the Jātaka story No. 148 (vol. i, p. 315), a Jackal became imprisoned in the same way, but escaped when a tempest soaked the skin. The tale is also given in No. 490 (vol. iv, p. 206).

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. i, p. 77, a man crept inside the skin of an Elephant from which jackals had eaten the flesh. A rain-storm caused it to contract (?) and closed the aperture. The flood carried it into the Ganges and thence to the sea. There a Garuḍa [Rukh] picked it up, and took it to Ceylon, where the man escaped when it tore open the hide. I insert the following as an account of the supposed state of things in Ceylon under the rule of Vibhīsana, the Rākshasa King of Ceylon, after the death of Rāvana: “Two Rākshasas contemplated him from a distance with feelings of fear.” They reported his arrival to Vibhīsana, who sent for him and entertained him in a friendly and hospitable manner. When asked how he came to Ceylon, the Brāhmaṇa cunningly replied that he had been sent by Vishnu, who had informed him that Vibhīsana would present him with wealth. He stayed some time in the island, and was allowed a young Garuḍa on which to ride about the country, and at last he was carried back to Mathurā by it.

In Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 179, a Jackal got inside a dead bullock, and informed the scavengers who came to bury it that he was the god of their village. They poured water on the hide, and he escaped.

In Indian Folk Tales (Gordon), p. 61, a live Elephant swallowed a Jackal. The Jackal fed on the heart and killed the Elephant, but was imprisoned inside when the skin dried up. When the God Mahādeo (Śiva), who was passing, heard cries and inquired who was there, the Jackal, after ascertaining who it was, said that he was Sahadeo, father of Mahādeo, and induced the latter to prove his identity by causing a heavy rainfall, owing to which the skin was softened and he escaped.

It is said in the Southern Province that all tom-tom beaters are fools.1 In the North-western Province the same opinion is held regarding some of them. To what extent it is justified I am unable to say, but an example which supported the general notion fell under my own observation. Some jungle was being cut for an irrigation channel, at the side of an uncultivated field belonging to a tom-tom beaters’ village, and one of the men came to watch the progress of the work. I questioned him regarding eggs. He stated at first that only things which could fly laid eggs, but he admitted that this rule did not apply to crocodiles, lizards, and snakes. About bats he was not certain, but thought they do not lay eggs. Rats certainly do not lay them, he said.

I had seen a Green Bee-eater flying near us, and I observed a small hole such as this bird makes as its nest-hole, in the sandy ground. I drew his attention to it, and he at once asserted that it was a rat-hole; of that he had no doubt whatever. “Well then, let us see if there are any eggs in it,” I said, knowing that it was then the breeding season of the Bee-eaters.

He looked on, smiling ironically, while I got one of my men to open the tunnel carefully. When he came to the end, there on the sand, in a little saucer-shaped cavity, were four shining, spherical white eggs of the bird. The man was astonished, but was quite satisfied that they were rat’s eggs. “I saw them with my two eyes,” he said to my men, who all laughed at him.

The following stories were written for me as the foolish doings traditionally attributed to the tom-tom beaters of a village in the North-western Province. Apparently the village is at the side of a rice field.

1 As in India, the tom-tom beaters were the weavers also in Ceylon, until cheap imported cloth put an end to weaving. In the Folk Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 233, the “proverbial simplicity” of weavers is mentioned, and in several stories in Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton) their foolishness is the chief theme. In the Jātaka story No. 59 there is an account of a foolish tom-tom beater boy also. See also the story No. 10, in this volume. ↑

No. 40

A Kaḍambāwa Man’s Journey to Puttalam

In order to go to Puttalam, a Kaḍambāwa man having yoked his bull in his cart, sent it in advance with the cart, saying, “My bull knows the way to Puttalam.” He himself walked behind the cart.

The bull [being without guidance], having gone completely round the rice field, came again to the path leading to the man’s house. There the man’s children came out, saying, “Aḍē! Has our father been to Puttalam and come back?”

The man [thinking he had come to another village] said, “What are you saying ‘Father’ to me for? I am a Kaḍambāwa man. I am going to Puttalam.” Then he again sent on the bull in front [as before].

In the same manner as before, the bull having gone round the rice field came again to the house. Then those children saying, “Aḍē! Has our father been to Puttalam and come back?” went on in front.

Then the man said, “Hā! At each place that I go to, the boys call me ‘Father.’ I am a Kaḍambāwa man. I am going to Puttalam. At a village on the road, also, certain boys said ‘Father’ to me.” So saying, he again sent on the bull in front.

In the same way as before, the bull turning round the rice field came again to the village. Again the man’s children said, “Aḍē! Has our father been to Puttalam and come back? Have you come on in front [of the others who went]?”

Then the man said, “Hā! At each place that I go to, the boys say ‘Father’ to me. I am a Kaḍambāwa man. I am going to Puttalam. At two villages on the road the boys called me ‘Father.’ ”

As he was setting off to go again, the man’s wife came and spoke to him. Then the man having recognised that it was his own house, unfastened the bull, and having sent it off to eat food stayed quietly at home.

In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 102, there is a story by Mr. A. E. R. Corea, in which a man who was going to a village in order to hire out his bull, allowed the animal to take its own way while he trudged behind it. The bull wandered about eating, and at last lay down near a stream. The man being tired out also lay down, and fell asleep. He was close to his own house, and was found by his children when they went for firewood. When they spoke to him, he denied that he was their father, and drove them away; but his wife afterwards came, and by means of her broom-stick convinced him that he was at home.

No. 41

The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Hares

The Kaḍambāwa men having gone to set nets, a great many hares were caught in the nets. Afterwards the men, having seized the hares, doubled up the hind legs of the hares at the joints, and the fore-legs at the joints, and threw them on the ground, in order to make a heap of them in one place afterwards. Then all the hares ran away into the jungle.

After all the hares in the nets had been finished, when they looked for the dead hares there was not even one hare. Then the men were astonished at the coming to life of the hares which they had killed, saying, “How thoroughly we killed the hares!” After having become fixed like stone [with astonishment] until nightfall, they went in the evening to their houses.

No. 42

The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Mouse-deer

The Kaḍambāwa men having appointed a wedding-[day], and having caught a great many Mouse-deer [for eating at it], tied clappers on their necks like those on goats, and having made an enclosure put them in it, and came away. The Mouse-deer escaped into the jungle.

Having gone to it on the wedding-day, when they looked there was not one Mouse-deer left. Then the men, saying, “Anē! The Mouse-deer that we reared have all gone,” came back to the village, much astonished.

No. 43

The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Bush

As the Kaḍambāwa men were going away with some drums one night, to attend a devil-dance, they met with a Warā1 bush on the path, which looked like an elephant. The men became afraid, thinking, “Maybe an elephant has come onto the path.” At the shaking of the leaves of the Warā bush they said, “He is shaking his ears.”

Being afraid to go past the elephant, they beat the drums until it became light, to frighten the Warā bush. When they looked after it became light, it was not an elephant; it was a Warā tree. After that, they came back to their village. So they had neither the devil-dance nor went to sleep.

1 Calatropis gigantea. ↑

No. 44

How the Kaḍambāwa Men counted Themselves

Twelve Kaḍambāwa men having gone to cut fence sticks, and having cut and tied up twelve bundles of them, set them on end leaning against each other [before carrying them home]. Then a man said, “Are our men all right? Have all come? We must count and see.”

Afterwards a man counted them. When he was counting he only counted the other men, omitting himself. “There are only eleven men; there are twelve bundles of fence sticks,” he said.

Then another man saying, “Maybe you made a mistake,” counted them again in the same way. He said, “This time also there are eleven men; there are indeed twelve bundles of fence sticks.”

Thus, in that manner each one of the twelve men counted in the same way as at first. “There are eleven men and twelve bundles of fence-sticks. There is a man short,” they said, and they went into the jungle to look for him.

While they were in the chena jungle seeking and seeking, a man of another village, hearing a loud noise of shouting while he was going along the road, having come there to see what it was, found these twelve men quarrelling over it. Then this man asked, “What are you saying?”

The men said, “Twelve of our men came to cut fence sticks. There are now twelve bundles of sticks; there are only eleven men. A man is short yet.”

When this man looked there were twelve men. So he said, “All of you take each one his own bundle of fence sticks.” Then the twelve men having taken the twelve bundles of sticks came to their village.

In Indian Fables (Ramaswami Raju), p. 61, twelve pigs crossed a stream, and counting themselves in the same way on the opposite bank, thought that one had been drowned.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 305, seven Buneyr men [weavers] counted their number as six, and were so delighted when a shepherd proved that there were seven that they insisted on doing a month’s free labour for him. Next day, however, one killed his mother in driving a fly off her face, and another chopped off the heads of several goats for mocking him by chewing their cud while he was eating, so he dispensed with the rest of their services.

In the Adventures of the Guru Paramarta (Dubois, 1872) the Guru and his five foolish disciples, after long delay because of the danger, crossed a river in which the water was only knee-deep. On reaching the far bank one of them counted the party several times, omitting himself, and they concluded that one had been drowned in the river, which they had heard was a treacherous one. They lamented, and cursed the river, one after another, until a traveller arrived. When he had heard their story he offered to restore the missing man to them by means of magic, for which service they agreed to pay him all the money they had, forty panams of gold. He said to the Guru, “It is a very little thing in comparison with the service that I promise to render you. However, as you say it is all that you possess, and as you are in other respects a good man who does not intend any malice thereby, I consent.” He set the six persons in a row, and struck each one a good blow on the back with his stick as he counted him in a loud voice.

In the Laughable Stories, of Bar-Hebraeus (Budge), the counting tale is No. 569. A man counted his asses and found there were ten, then having mounted on one he omitted it, and made the number nine. He dismounted and found there were ten; mounted again and counted only nine. He got down again, and saw that there were ten. Then saying, “Verily there is a devil in me, for whenever I mount an ass I lose one of them,” he went on foot for fear of losing one permanently.

The counting incident is found in China also. In A String of Chinese Peach-Stones, by W. A. Cornaby, p. 276, a stupid Yamun underling who was taking a rascally monk to prison, kept counting the things he had with him, “Bundle, umbrella, cangue (the heavy wooden collar on the prisoner’s neck), warrant, monk, myself.” On the way he got drunk and went to sleep. The monk took advantage of the opportunity to shave his head and place the cangue on his neck, after which he absconded. When the man awoke, and began to count the things, he found everything there but himself.

No. 45

The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Dream

When some Kaḍambāwa men, having joined together, were going away to Puttalam, it became night while they were on the road. Having got a resting-place, and cooked and eaten, while they were sleeping a tusk elephant appeared to a man in a dream.

On the morning of the following day the man said to the other men, “Friends, last night I saw an evil dream.”

The men asked, “What was in the dream?”

The man said, “I saw a tusk elephant.”

Then the men began to interpret the dream. They said, “What is the meaning? If there is a tusk elephant there will be elephant’s dung; if elephant’s dung, paddy [which the elephant has eaten]; if paddy, uncooked rice; if uncooked rice, cooked rice; if cooked rice, it is a thing [found only] in the village. Therefore the elephant means the village. Something must have happened. It is useless for us to go on. Let us go back to the village.” So all, weeping and weeping, set out to return to the village.

As they came to the rice field of the village, the women and boys of the village having heard the men coming crying and crying aloud, said, “Anē! Our men are coming crying and crying. What is it? It will be a dreadful thing.” So the women and boys, having come from the houses to that side of the field before those men came across, began to cry also.

On seeing them, the man who saw the dream said to those other men, “Look there! Did I tell you falsely?” Then the men cried the more. Having seen it, these boys and women, they also cried more and more. The two parties having come quite near each other still cried. The women and boys on that side of the stile [at the edge of the field], these men on the field side of it, except that they cried said nothing.

While they were crying and crying until it became night, as a man from another village was going along the path he heard this uproar, and came to see what it was. He asked at the hand of the men, “What is it? Who is dead?”

Then the men, crying and crying, said, “Who is dead we don’t know.”

After that, the man having gone near those women and boys, asked, “What is it? Who is dead?”

Then those persons also said, crying and crying, “Who is dead we don’t know.”

Afterwards the man having stopped the crying of both parties, when he had asked them about it, there was nothing dreadful. So the man went away, and these men and women and boys, they also went to their houses.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 348, a weaver girl said to herself that it would be a good thing if she married in her own village, but if she had a son and he were to die, how her relatives and friends would lament! The thought of it made her cry. When her aunts and friends observed it they all cried too, and her father and uncles and brothers coming up and seeing all these people crying, also cried. When a neighbour asked the men what it was about, who was dead? they could not tell him, but referred him to the women. He then learnt that these also did not know, but cried because they saw the girl crying.

No. 46

The Four Tom-tom Beaters

This story is told in the Southern Province to illustrate the foolishness of this caste.

Four Tom-tom Beaters when proceeding along a road together, met a man of lower caste than themselves. Before passing them he made an obeisance, and (as usual in such cases) said, “Awasara,” “Permission”—that is, “Have I permission (to pass)?”—and then walked away.

While the Tom-tom Beaters were going along afterwards a dispute arose over it, each person claiming that he was the one who had been addressed, and to whom the obeisance had been made, as being the superior man of the party. Each maintaining his own view, and being unable to settle it in any other way, the four persons decided to refer the matter to the man himself. They therefore turned back and ran after him, and on overtaking him requested him to state from which of them he had asked the permission. As the question plainly indicated the sort of persons they were, he replied, “From the biggest fool among you.”

This left matters just where they were, as each one, in order to prove his claim to the obeisance, then declared himself to be the greatest fool; and at last they related their foolish actions. These were pointless, and I did not preserve the details. Each, however, had two wives, this being one of the grounds on which all based their claims, and the details they gave consisted of accounts of the ill-treatment that they received from these women.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 65, a traveller threw four pence to four weavers, each of whom claimed all the money. A second traveller’s reasonable suggestion that each should take a penny was rejected, and they ran after the man, and asked for whom he had given them. When he inquired which was the wisest they told stories that only indicated their extreme stupidity, and in the end he gave them four pence each, all being equal in this respect.

The Abbé Dubois gave a similar story from the Tamil of Southern India, the men being four Brāhmaṇas to whom a soldier said, “Saraṇam, eiyar” (“Homage, Sir”). The four replied, “Āsirvātam” (“Benediction”), and the man went off. After disputing about it, they ran after him for a league, and asked him whom he saluted. He said, “Well, it is the biggest fool of four whom I intended to salute.” Eventually the matter was referred to the headmen of the next village, who after hearing their accounts of their silly deeds, decided that each one might claim superiority over the others. “Thus,” said they, “each one of you has gained his case.” The men were satisfied, as each had won.

In Folk-Tales of Hindustan (Shaik Chilli), p. 1, there is a version in which two men were saluted by an old woman as they passed her. After a dispute over it, when they ran back and asked her about it, she replied that she saluted the greater fool of the two. Then they related their experiences to her, and she adjudged one to be a bigger fool than the other.

No. 47

The Golden Tree

At a certain city there is a King, it is said; there are three Princes of that King. The King, while sleeping, saw in a dream that a Golden Tree sprang up, and on that Golden Tree a Silver Flower blossomed. A Silver Cock that was sitting on the Silver Flower crowed.

Afterwards the King caused the three Princes to be fetched. When the eldest Prince had been brought he asked him, “Son, can you explain this dream which I have had?”

The Prince asked, “What appeared in the dream, Father-King?”

The King said, “A Golden Tree having been created, on it a Silver Flower blossomed, and a Silver Cock crowed while sitting upon the flower.”

The Prince said, “Anē! Father-King, I cannot interpret it; perhaps my two younger brothers will explain it.”

Then the King having caused the next Prince to be fetched, asked him, “Son, can you explain this dream?”

The Prince asked, “Father-King, what appeared in the dream?”

The King told him the manner in which the things appeared in the dream.

The Prince said, “Father-King, I cannot explain it; perhaps younger brother will interpret it.”

Then the King having caused the youngest Prince to be brought asked him, “Son, can you explain this dream?”

The Prince asked, “Father-King, what appeared in the dream?”

The King told him the manner in which the things appeared in the dream.

Then the Prince said, “O Lord, Your Majesty, I will interpret that dream, but I must first go in search of the explanation.”

After that, the three Princes obtained leave of absence for three years. Having got it, the three persons, cooking a bundle of rice, and taking from their father permission to depart, started to go in search of the interpretation. Having gone on and on, they came to a junction of three roads. Having arrived at it, and eaten the bundle of cooked rice, the eldest Prince said, “I will go along this road; you go on those two roads.” So the eldest Prince went along one road, the second Prince went along another road, and the youngest Prince went on the remaining road.

Having gone on and on, the youngest Prince arrived at the house of a widow woman. The woman said, “Anē! Son, what have you come here for? We have not even firewood for cooking.”

The Prince asked, “Why, mother, is that?”

The widow woman said, “There is a Yakā in the jungle in which is the firewood. The Yakā has now eaten all the people of this city; few people are now in it.”

The Prince asked, “How does that Yakā seize the men?”

The widow woman said, “When they go to the jungle and are cutting firewood, he comes saying ‘Hū,’ and eats them.”

Afterwards the Prince, taking his sword, went to the jungle, and chopped a piece of firewood. The Yakā came, saying “Hū.” Then the Prince chopped at the Yakā with that very sword, and the Yakā died there. After that, the Prince, taking a bundle of firewood, returned to the house of the widow woman.

The widow woman asked, “Son, did you meet with the Yakā?”

The Prince said, “I met with him; I killed the Yakā.”

Then having cooked with the firewood, she gave the Prince to eat.

On the morning of the following day the King went to the jungle, and chopped firewood. That day the Yakā did not come, saying “Hū.” Afterwards, through the Yakā’s not saying “Hū,” the King went to look for him, and saw that the Yakā was dead. So the King returned to the city, and saying, “I must find now, in a moment, the man who killed the Yakā,” caused proclamation to be made by beat of tom-toms to that effect.

Having heard it, this widow woman, summoning the Prince, went to the palace, and told the King that he had killed the Yakā. After that the King asked at the hand of the Prince, “How did you kill the Yakā?”

The Prince said, “I went to the jungle, and while I was chopping firewood the Yakā having come crying “Hū,” sprang onto me. Then I speedily chopped at him and killed him.” Having heard this, the King gave the Prince a district of that kingdom, and an elephant’s load of goods.

Afterwards the Prince gave all those things to the widow woman, and having gone away to another city, came to the house of a widow-mother. Having arrived there, the Prince said to her, “Anē! Mother, you must give me a resting-place to-day.”

The widow-mother said, “I can indeed give you a resting-place, but there is no place to sleep in. You cannot sleep in the veranda; a light falls there during the night, and any person who sees that light dies. Nobody can stop the light. In order to stop it, the King has made public proclamation by beat of tom-toms that to any person who stops it he will give an elephant’s load of goods, and a district of the kingdom.”

The Prince asked her, “Mother, where does the light fall first?”

The widow-mother said, “In an open grass field in the middle of the city.”

The Prince then said, “If so, go and tell the King to fix a raised platform at the place where the light falls, and having placed there a winnowing basket made of cow-dung, and a large pot of water, to come away. I will go there to-night and stop it.”

So the widow-mother went and told the King. After that, the King prepared the things in that very manner, and came away.

In the evening, the Prince, having eaten food, went onto the platform. Near midnight, while he was there the light fell there. When the Prince looked, the Nāga King of the world of the Nāgas, having come there, had ejected from his mouth the Cobra Stone, and having gone far away was eating food [as a cobra].

Then this Prince put the cow-dung winnowing basket on the stone, whereupon the Nāga King came crying out to the water-pot, taking it for the person [who had done it]. The Prince then chopped at him with his sword, and the Nāga King died. After that, taking the Cobra Stone, the Prince washed it with water from the pot, and put it away in the waist pocket of his cloth.

While he was there it became light. Then the King came to see if he had stopped the light. When he looked he saw that the cobra was lying in a heap. The King asked at the hand of the Prince, “Did you stop the light?” The Prince said, “Look there! The very one that made the light has been killed there.” Afterwards the King gave the Prince an elephant’s load of goods, and a district of that kingdom.

Afterwards, the Prince having given to the widow woman all the things that had been given to him, went along the path on which the Nāga King had come, to the world of the Nāgas. When he got there, all the three Princesses of the Nāga King whom he had killed were there, sitting in one spot.

The Princesses said to this Prince, “What have you come for? Should our father the King return now he will eat you.”

The Prince saying, “Your father the King cannot come. I have come here after killing your father the King,” showed them the Cobra Stone.

Then the Princesses asked, “What have you come here for?”

The Prince said, “I have come on account of a sooth-saying, in order to get it explained.”

The Princesses asked, “What is the sooth?”

The Prince said, “At the time when our father the King was sleeping, a Golden Tree having sprung up, and a Silver Flower having blossomed on it, a Silver Cock which was sitting upon the flower crowed.”

The three Princesses said, “We cannot explain it here. Let us go to your father the King.”

The Prince said “Hā,” and the three Princesses and the Prince set off to come to him.

They came to the junction of the three roads at which at first the three Princes separated. Having arrived there they went along the road on which the eldest brother of the Prince had gone, and having met with him the Prince said, “Let us go back, elder brother, these three Princesses will explain the dream”; so they returned. Then they all went along the road on which the next brother had gone, and having found him the Prince said, “Let us go back.”

Having summoned him to go with them, those three Princes and the three Princesses, six persons, having met together in this manner, came to the Princes’ city. Having arrived there, this youngest Prince caused their father the King to be called. So the King came to them.

Then these three Princesses who had come from the world of the Nāgas said to this youngest Prince, “Cause us three persons to stand at the thread” (that is, to toe the line). So this Prince caused them to stand at the thread.

Then the three Princesses said, “Cut off our three heads at one stroke.” So this youngest Prince cut off their three heads at one stroke. Thereupon the Golden Tree was created, and the Silver Flower having blossomed on it, the Silver Cock that was sitting on the top of the flower crowed.

Then this youngest Prince chopped down the Golden Tree with his sword, and the three Princesses came to life again. Having come to life, the three Princesses asked at the hand of the King, the father of the Princes, “Was it thus in the dream that appeared to you?” The King said “Yes.” Then the three Princesses told him that they were the Golden Tree, and the Silver Flower, and the Silver Cock.

After that, the three Princesses, having been married to the three Princes, remained there.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

The Cobra King with the gem, a diamond, which he laid down while feeding, and swallowed afterwards, occurs in Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 36. A girl, disguised as a Prince, hung in a tree a large iron trap fitted with knives underneath. Below it she scattered flowers and sweet scents “such as cobras love,” and when the Cobra came at night she dropped the trap on him, and killed him. When she went to wash the diamond in the lake, the water on being touched by it rolled aside, and revealed a path which led to the garden at the Cobra’s palace. In the garden she found a tree with a silver stem, golden leaves, and clusters of pearls as fruits. In the end, the Cobra’s daughter came away with her.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 18, a Cobra rose out of a tank, with a brilliant gem on its hood, which shone “like a thousand diamonds,” and lit up everything around. The snake put it down and went in search of food, and swallowed the two horses of a Prince and his friend, the son of the Minister, who were belated, and sitting in a tree. While the snake was at some distance, the Minister’s son descended, covered the gem with horse dung, and climbed back. The snake rushed to the spot, but could not find the gem, and eventually died. Next morning they descended, washed the gem in water, and saw by its light a palace under the water, in which they found a Princess whom the Prince married.

In the Jātaka story No. 253 (vol. ii, p. 197) we learn that the Nāga King called Maṇi-Kaṇṭha, “Jewel-throat,” appears to have kept the gem in his throat. He said—

Rich food and drink in plenty I can have

By means of this fine jewel which you crave.

In the story No. 543 (vol. vi, p. 94), the Nāga gem is mentioned as “the jewel which grants all desires.” Nāga youths are described as placing it on a hillock of sand, and “playing all night in the water by its radiance.” One on the head of the Nāga King is referred to on p. 97 as being one which, “bright-red like a lady-bird, glows on his head a diadem.”

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), three jōgīs when killed while eating became three large copper pots filled with gold and valuable jewels.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 176—Tales of the Punjab (Steel), p. 166—a Princess was brought to life by cutting off, at one blow of the Sword, the heads of a pair of ducks.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. i., p. 115, in a Bengal story by Mr. G. H. Damant, a King dreamt of a silver tree, with golden branches, diamond leaves, and pearl fruits; peacocks were playing in the branches and eating the fruits. The tree was a girl, imprisoned by Rākshasas. When a Prince cut her in two she became the tree; when he dropped the knife she took her own shape again.

No. 48

The Seven Princesses

In a certain country there are a King and a Queen, it is said; there are seven Princesses [the daughters] of the King. A Prince younger than those seven is born.

The King went to a war, and having gone there the King was defeated in the war. When he returned, the royal food was not made ready for the King. Having arrived, he asked the Queen, “Why did you not prepare the royal food for me?”

Then the Queen said, “I cannot bring up your children, and prepare the royal food for you also.”

The King asked, “Why? What have the Princesses done?”

The Queen replied, “They go to the river, and after bathing there come back and rub oil on their heads, and comb their hair, [instead of assisting me to prepare the food].”

On account of that the King settled to behead the seven royal Princesses next day.

The Queen having cooked a bundle of rice and given it to those seven said, “Go to any place you like, or the King will behead you to-morrow.”

After that, they went off to the river, and after sitting there and eating the bundle of rice, the seven went away.

Having gone on and on, they went to the house of a Rākshasa. When they got there the Rākshasa was not at home. The seven persons asked for and obtained a resting place from the Rākshasī (female Rākshasa). Then the youngest Princess said, “We have no food; give us something to cook.” So the Rākshasī gave them a little paddy.

The youngest Princess, taking the paddy, said to the other six Princesses, “Elder sisters, come and pound this small quantity of paddy.” The six persons refused.

After that, the Princess having pounded it, when she went out to winnow it saw that there was a heap of human bones behind the house. The Princess bearing that in mind winnowed it, and returned without speaking about them. Then she called the Princesses to come and cook it; they did not come.

Afterwards the Princess having cooked, summoned those six persons to eat the rice. The six persons refused. Thereupon the Princess fed the six Princesses [by dividing the rice and giving each one her share of it].

Now, in the evening the seven Princesses went to sleep. There were seven girls at the house, the daughters of the Rākshasa, and the seven wore white clothes. The seven Princesses wore blue clothes. Then the youngest Princess having awoke in the night, took the seven white cloths of the seven Rākshasa girls, and put them on the Princesses, placing the dark cloths of the Princesses on the girls.

The Rākshasa having returned during the night, and having learnt from his wife of the arrival of the Princesses, put one of the girls out of those who wore the dark cloths, in a large cooking-pot, and having boiled her the Rākshasa ate his own daughter.

After seeing this, when the Rākshasa had gone to sleep, the little Princess, awaking those six Princesses, told them about it, and all the Princesses escaped together during the night. Having come to a river they remained there lying on a sandbank.

A King having come that way while they were there, asked, “Are you Yakās or human beings?”

The Princesses asked, “Is it a Yakā or a human being who asks?”

The King replied, “It is indeed a human being who asks, not a Yakā.”

Then the Princesses said, “We indeed are human beings, not Yakās,” [and they told him how they had escaped from the house of the Rākshasa and had come there].

On hearing this the King said, “Can you go with me?”

The Princesses having said, “We can,” went with the King to his palace, and became his Queens.1

On the night of the following day, a daughter of the Rākshasa, having heard how the King had taken away the Princesses, came there, and remained lying on the sandbank.

On the next day, also, the King having come that way asked, “Are you a Yakā or a human being?”

The Rākshasa’s daughter said, “Is it a Yakā or a human being who asks?”

The King replied, “It is indeed a human being who asks, not a Yakā.”

The Rākshasa’s daughter said, “I also am indeed a human being, not a Yakā.”

Then the King said, “If so, can you go with me?”

The Rākshasī having said, “I can,” went with the King to the palace, [and also became his wife.]

After a long time had gone by, all those seven Princesses were about to have children. One night, when the Princesses were asleep, the Rākshasī plucked out the eyes of the seven Princesses by magic, without awaking them, and having done so hid all the eyes. Then when the seven Princesses, having arisen, tried to go about, they were unable to go; they found that they could not see, so they lay down again.

Afterwards the King came to awake them. “Why are you sleeping yet?” he said.

The seven Princesses replied, “We are unable to get up; we have no eyes.”

The King asked, “How have your eyes become displaced?”

The seven Princesses said, “What has happened we do not know; they have been plucked out while we were asleep.”

Afterwards the King having said, “If so, go where you like,” drove them away. The King allowed only the Rākshasī to stay.

The seven Princesses, having gone on and on, and having fallen down at a pool, gave birth to seven Princes there. Now, there was no food for the seven, so having cut up the Prince of the eldest Princess, and divided the body into seven parts, they ate for a day. On the next day, having cut up the next Princess’s Prince and divided the body, they ate it. Thus, in that manner they ate the six Princes of the six persons.

On the next day they settled to cut up the Prince of the youngest Princess. Then the youngest Princess, on each of the days having put away her portions of flesh, said, “You shall not cut up my Prince. Look, here is your flesh,” she said, and gave them the six portions of flesh. The six persons ate them. [The narrator did not state how they subsisted after that.]

While this youngest Princess was rearing that Prince there, after the Prince went to the chena jungle one day, he met with a Vaeddā. The Vaeddā said, “Let us go together to the King’s city.”2 The Prince said “Hā,” and went with him. There the King saw him, and being pleased with him gave him food and the like. The Prince having eaten, after he had come again to the pool the Prince’s mother asked, “Where did you go?”

The Prince said, “I went to the King’s city.”

His mother asked, “What did you go for?”

The Prince replied, “I went ‘simply’ ” (that is, for no special purpose).

The Princess having said, “Ahā!” while she was still there the Prince said, “I am going to the forge.”

Having gone to the forge he said to the smith, “Make and give me a bow and an arrow.” The smith said, “Cut a stick and come with it.” So the Prince went to the chena jungle to cut a stick. There was no suitable stick, but a golden shoot had fallen down there, and having taken it he gave it to the smith. The smith said, “This is not good; bring another stick,” so the Prince went and brought another stick. The smith made a good bow and arrow out of the stick, and gave them to him.

Then the Prince having taken the bow and arrow, and shot a deer, carried it to the city. After he had gone there they gave him paddy, rice, flesh, and cooking-pots, and the like for it. Then the Prince having taken them to the pool where the Princesses were, gave them to his mother the Queen. Afterwards he shot a deer every day, and having taken it to the city carried back to the Princesses the things that he received for it.

One day having shot a deer, as he was about to take it to the city the Prince’s mother told him to carry it to the palace. While he was there the Rākshasī saw him, and having made inquiry got to know that he was the son of the youngest Princess. So she said to him, “Take a letter to our house for me,” and gave it to him.

As the Prince was going that day taking the letter, it became night, so he went to a city, and asked a widow woman for a resting-place for the night. The woman of the house said, “Anē! What have you come to this city for? A Yakā has eaten all who were in this city. To-night he will be coming for my daughter.”

The Prince asked, “How will the Yakā come?”

The woman said, “Four miles away he says, ‘Hū’; then a mile away he says, ‘Hū’; and having come from there near the stile at the road, he says, ‘Hū’.”

The Prince asked, “Are there Kaekuna3 seeds here?”

The daughter said, “There are,” and she gave him a sackful of them.

Then he told the daughter, whose father had been the King of the city, not to be afraid. “If the Yakā should come I will kill him,” he said. So the Prince went to sleep, placing a sword that he had brought at his side, and laying his head on the waist pocket of the Princess.

Afterwards the Yakā cried “Hū,” when four miles away, and tears fell from the eyes of the Princess on the breast of the Prince when she heard it. Next, the Yakā cried “Hū,” when a mile away. The Princess having spoken words to him on hearing it, he arose. “What is it?” he asked. The Princess said, “The Yakā is coming.” Then the Prince emptied the sack of Kaekuna seeds at the door, and took up his sword.

As the Yakā, having come, was springing into the doorway, he slipped on the seeds, and fell. Thereupon the Prince cut and killed the Yakā with his sword, and having put his body in a well which was there, covered it up with earth.

After the Prince had told the Princess about himself and the seven Princesses, he said, “I must go now.”

The Princess asked him, “What else is there in your hands?”

The Prince replied, “There is a letter which the Queen has ordered me to take to her home.”

The Princess having said, “Where is it? Let me look at it,” took it, and when she looked at it there was written in it, “Mother, eat the Prince who brings this letter, and eat the eyes of those seven persons.”

Then the Princess having torn up the letter, wrote another letter, “Mother, having taken care of the Prince who brings this letter, send medicine for the eyes of those seven persons.” Having written it she gave it into the hands of the Prince.

The Prince carrying the letter, and having taken a bundle of cooked rice to eat on the way, went to the house of the Rākshasī. As he was coming near the house he saw a Rākshasī sitting at the road. When she saw him she said, “The flesh of that one who is coming is for me.”

The Prince asked, “What art thou saying?” and gave the letter to the Rākshasī, and asked for the medicine for the eyes. After reading the letter the Rākshasī prepared abundant food for him, and gave him lodgings that day.

Next day, showing him a tree, she said, “After you have rubbed the juice of this tree on the eyes of the persons who are blind, their eyes will become well.”

The Prince said, “If so, tie a little of it in a packet and give me it.” So the Rākshasī having tied up a packet of it gave him it.

Then the Prince having taken it back, rubbed it on the eyes of those seven persons, and their eyes became well.

Afterwards, the Prince having gone with them to the city where he killed the Yakā, married the Princess, and remained there.

North-western Province.

This story does not appear to have been met with among the people of Southern India, but variants are well-known in other parts of the country. In all these forms of the tale the wicked Rākshasa Queen is killed.

In Indian Fairy Stories (Ganges Valley), by Miss Stokes, there are two variants, pp. 51 and 176. In both, a demoness or Rākshasī whom the King married induced him to cause the eyes of his other seven Queens to be plucked out, and six of the infants whom they bore were eaten, the seventh being saved as in Ceylon.

In one story the boy was sent for the milk of a tigress, an eagle’s feather, and night-growing rice; in the other he went for rose-water, flowers, and a dress. A friendly Fakīr in one tale, and a Princess in the other, substituted other letters for those in which the demons or ogres were instructed to kill him, so that he was well received and succeeded in his errands. In one case he got the blind Queens’ eyes, and ointment to make them as before; in the other he brought back magic water that cured them.

In Tales of the Punjab (Steel), p. 89, and Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 98, the demoness Queen persuaded the King to give her the eyes of the seven Queens, which she strung as a necklace for her mother. The seventh boy, who was shooting game for the blind Queens’ food, was sent for the eyes and got thirteen, one having been eaten. The written message which requested that he should be killed was changed by a Princess. On two other journeys he obtained the Jōgī’s white cow which gave milk unceasingly, and rice that bore a million-fold, by the aid of which the seven Queens became the richest people in the kingdom. After he had married the Princess who assisted him, the King heard the whole story, and killed the demoness.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 117, the Rākshasa Queen, after getting the seven Queens’ eyes plucked out, ate up all the people, and no one remained to attend on the King. At last the boy offered his services. He always left before night, the time when the Ogress caught her victims. She sent him to her mother for a melon, with a letter which he tore up. He got back safely, bringing a bird in which was the life of the Ogress Queen; when he killed it she died.

In The Indian Antiquary, vol. i, p. 170, there is a Bengal story by Mr. G. H. Damant. The Ogress or Rākshasa Queen obtained the eyes of the seven Queens from the King, and sent the boy for sea-foam, and afterwards for rice grown in Ceylon, “the home of the Rākshasas,” that ripened in one day. A Sannyāsi, or Hindu religious mendicant, changed him into a kingfisher on one trip and a parrot on the other, which brought the things, being re-converted into a Prince on the way back. Lastly, he was sent to Ceylon for a cow a cubit long and half a cubit high. The King paid him heavily for getting these things, and for the last one was obliged to sell his kingdom and give the proceeds to the boy. The Sannyāsi instructed him to conciliate a Rākshasī by addressing her as “Aunt,” and to deliver a pretended message from the Ogress Queen. He was well received, and learnt that the Rākshasas’ lives were in a lemon and the Ogress Queen’s in a bird. He cut the lemon and thus killed all the Rākshasas, brought back the blind Queens’ eyes, and killed the bird, and with it the Ogress Queen.

In Folk-Tales of Hindustan, Allahabad (Shaik Chilli), p. 105, the seven Queens were thrown into a large dry well; it is not stated that their eyes were plucked out. The seventh boy got his grandfather, a carpenter, to make him a wooden flying horse. He was sent for singing-water, magic rice, and news of the Rākshasa Queen’s relatives. He met a lion, a wolf, and various other savage animals, which he appeased by addressing them as “Uncle,” “Cousin,” etc. A kind Yōgī changed his letter, and he was welcomed by the Rākshasas, whose lives he learnt were in a number of birds. These he killed, taking back a pea-hen in which lay the life of the Ogress Queen, as well as the magic water and rice. Each of the animals sent a cub with him, and on his return these performed a dance, at the end of which he killed the pea-hen and the Ogress died. The persons who had been eaten by the Ogress revived when the magic water was sprinkled on their bones. The magic rice plant, called Vanaspati, grew into a tree forty yards high, and bore cooked rice.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 43, the seven Queens’ eyes were put out, and they were thrown into a large dry well. The seventh boy was sent for the milk of a tigress, and then to the grandparents of the Ogress Queen. A friendly Fakīr having altered the messages, he was well received, got medicine that cured the blind Queens’ eyes, and also killed the birds and smashed a spinning-wheel in which were the lives of the Ogress Queen and her relatives.

At p. 446, also, the eyes of a Queen which had been plucked out were replaced and healed.

A variant of the Western Province of Ceylon, in which there were twelve Queens, whose sight was not regained, however, has been given already. See No. 24.

1 This is prosaic love-making! ↑

2 Probably in order to sell deer’s flesh there. ↑

3 Canarium zeylanicum. ↑

No. 49

Mr. Janel Siññā

In a certain city there are a King and a Queen, it is said. There are six Princes. The youngest Prince of the six plays with (lit. beats) the ashes on the ash-heap at the corner of the hearth; the other five Princes are doing work, and going on journeys together.

The King said at the hands of the Queen that he must behead the Prince who was [idling] on the ash-heap. Then the Queen said, “What is the use of beheading him? Let us send the Prince whom we do not want to any place where he likes to go.”

Having come to the Prince, the Queen says, “Son, the King says that he must behead you; on that account go away to any place you like.”

Then the Prince said, “If so, give me a bundle of cooked rice, and a thousand masuran, in order to go and trade.”

So the Queen gave him a package of cooked rice and a thousand masuran.

The Prince took the masuran and the package of cooked rice, and having gone on and on, when he was coming to a travellers’ shed [saw that] a man was taking a brown Monkey,1 in order to throw it into the river. This Prince called the man, and the man thereupon brought the Monkey and came to the travellers’ shed.

The Prince asked, “Where are you taking that Monkey?”

The man said, “I am taking this to sell.”

The Prince asked, “For how much will you give it?”

The man said he would give it for a thousand masuran. The Prince gave the thousand masuran that were in his hands, and got the Monkey, and that man having taken the thousand masuran went away.

The Prince having unfastened the package of cooked rice, and given some to the Monkey also, and the Prince himself having eaten, took the Monkey and came back to the very city of the King. When he came there the King was not at the palace; only the Queen was there. The Queen asked, “What sort of goods have you brought?”

The Prince says, “Mother, having given that thousand masuran I have brought a Monkey.”

Then the Queen says, “Anē! Son, should the King and the rest of them get to know that, he will behead you and behead me. As you have taken that Monkey put it away somewhere.”

So the Prince took the Monkey and put it in a rock cave in the jungle, and shutting the door came to the palace. While he was there the King saw him, and having seen him, called the Queen and said, “I shall not allow that one to stay in my palace for even a pāēya (twenty minutes). I shall behead him to-morrow.”

Afterwards the Queen came to the Prince and said, “Son, the King says he must behead you to-morrow, therefore go to any place you like, and do not come back.”

The Prince said, “Give me a package of rice, and a thousand masuran.”

Afterwards the Queen having cooked a package of rice gave him it, and a thousand masuran. The Prince taking them, and having gone to the rock cave where the Monkey was, took it and went to [another] city. At that city he ate the package of rice at the travellers’ shed, and having gone to the hearth the Prince slept on the ash-heap.

The Monkey went away to dance in cities. Having gone and danced, collecting requisite articles, he came back to the place where the Prince was, and the Prince cooked some of the things he brought, and gave him to eat. The Monkey goes every day to dance; and having danced, the Prince and Monkey, both of them, eat the things he brings. In that way the Monkey brings things every day.

One day, the Monkey having gone to a city and danced, fell down at the palace at that city. Then the King came and asked, “What is it, Monkey? Why have you fallen down there?”

The Monkey says, “I have come to beg and take the measure2 in which masuran are measured.”

Afterwards the King gave him the measure for measuring masuran. The monkey having taken it and having been absent for as much as a month, brought the measure back.

Then the King asked, “What is this, Monkey, that having taken the measure thou hast been such a time [in returning it]?”

The Monkey says, “For just so much time I measured masuran.”

The King asked, “Having measured them did you finish?”

Then the Monkey said, “Andō! Could it be finished? Not even a quarter was finished.”

The King said, “Ahā!” and was silent.

The Monkey that day also having danced in that city, the King gave him many presents. Taking them, and stealing a cloth from a field where clothes were spread out [to dry], while he was coming a man having met him in the road asked the Monkey, “Monkey, to whom dost thou give the articles that thou art taking every day?”

The Monkey says, “I give them to our Mr. Janel Siññā. I am supporting that gentleman.”

The Monkey having gone to the place where the Prince was, says, “Here is a cloth. It is good for the gentleman, is it not?” and he showed him the cloth which he had stolen.

The Prince threw it aside, and said, “This cloth which I have is enough.”

Next day the Monkey having come to that city and danced, lay down on the lawn of the palace. Then the King asked, “What is it, Monkey, that you have fallen down there for?”

Then the Monkey says, “Our Mr. Janel Siññā burnt his cloth while drinking. I have come to ask you to cause the cloth to be woven for him [anew].”

The King said, “If so, bring it.”

Afterwards the Monkey having gone to the place where the Prince was, brought a thin cloth and gave it to the King. Afterwards the King caused one to be woven, and gave it to him.

Then the Monkey says at the hand of the King, “You ought to marry your Princess to our Mr. Janel Siññā.”

The King said, “Hā. It is very good.”

The Monkey, begging two copper pots,3 went away, and having gone, heated water in the two copper pots, and having made the Prince bathe, said to the Prince, “Do not eat largely of the sorts [of food] after I have cooked and given [the food] to you [at the palace]. I have asked for a [Princess in] marriage for you after I went there.”

Afterwards the Monkey, summoning the Prince also, went to the palace of the King of that city. Having gone there, and prepared a seat at the King’s table, and made ready the food, after the Prince sat down to the food seven Princesses themselves began to divide [and serve] it.

Then that Prince began to eat very plentifully. The Monkey having come and nudged him with his finger, said, “You have eaten enough.” Taking no notice of it, the Prince went on eating. Having eaten that, he shaped his hand [into a cup] and reversing it there [when full], ate in excess.

Then the King asked the Monkey, “What, Monkey, is [the reason of] that?”

The Monkey said, “Our Mr. Janel Siññā having been overheated [by his bath] could not eat. Through that indeed it has befallen that he has lost his senses.” That also the King kept in mind.

Then the Prince and the King’s eldest daughter were married.

After that, the Monkey said that he wanted a thousand bill-hooks, and a thousand digging-hoes, and a thousand axes, and a thousand people. The King gave him a thousand bill-hooks, and a thousand digging-hoes, and a thousand axes, and a thousand people. [With these the royal party set off to deliver the Princess at the Prince’s palace.]

Afterwards, having given the tools to those people, the Monkey goes in front. The King and the Princess and the Prince come after. That Monkey goes [in the trees] jumping and jumping, and changing branches. The thousand people went footing and footing the road.

While going thus they met with a city. Then the King quietly told the Monkey to halt; it stopped. Then the King asked the Monkey, “Whose is that city that is visible?”

The Monkey says, “This city is our Mr. Janel Siññā’s. It has been rented out to his work-people.” Afterwards the King went on, keeping that also in his mind.

The Monkey again went in front. Then again they met with a city. Again the King having called the Monkey asked, “Whose is that city?”

Then the Monkey says, “It is our Mr. Janel Siññā’s. It has been rented out to his work-people. In that way are the cities belonging to our Mr. Janel Siññā [given out].”

Again the Monkey went off in front. Having gone thus, he went to the house of a Rākshasa, and having made the house ready in a second, when he stepped aside the King and the Prince and Princess went in.

The King made the thousand work-people stay there, and having handed over the Princess, next day went back to his city.

Afterwards the Monkey asked at the hand of the Prince, “For the help that you gave me I also am assisting you. What favour besides will you give me?”

Then the Prince says, “When you have died I shall weep abundantly, and having made a coffin, and put you in the coffin, I will bury you.”

Then the Monkey said, “So much indeed is the assistance I want.”

One day the Monkey lay down, trickishly saying that he was getting fever. The Prince did not even go in that direction. Next day and the next day he stayed there; on those days he did not go.

On the third day the Monkey cunningly shutting his eyes remained as though he had died. The Prince said to a man, “Look if that Monkey is dead.”

The man having gone near the Monkey, when he looked it was dead [in appearance]; he said at the hand of the Prince that it was dead. The Prince said, “Having put a creeper round its neck, drag it in the direction of that jungle, and having thrown it there come back.”

When the man tried to put the creeper on the Monkey’s neck the Monkey got up. “Don’t put the creeper on my neck,” he said.

Having gone near the Prince he said, “After I was dead [apparently], you were taking me without having put me in a coffin. Why do you [arrange to] drag me, having put a creeper on my neck? Don’t take even so much trouble.”

Having said this, the Monkey went off to the midst of the forest, and died.

Tom-Tom Beater. North-western Province.

Of course, this is an Eastern form of Puss-in-Boots.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 226 ff., there is an account of a clever match-making Jackal which induced a King to marry his daughter to a weaver.

1 Macacus pileatus. ↑

2 Berāē. ↑

3 Haeliya. ↑

No. 50

The Nikini Story1

In a certain country there are a man and a woman, it is said. There is a girl (daughter) of those two persons.

The girl was asked [in marriage] for a Gamarāla of another country who had much wealth in money. The girl having been summoned, and having gone to the Gamarāla, and been with him for a long time, he went to chop jungle [for making a chena]. There he met with a fawn, and having returned home said to the girl, “Bolan, there was a fawn in the chena.”

The girl said, “Anē! After you have gone to-morrow bring it.” On the following day the Gamarāla brought it.

When the girl had reared it for a long time, a longing came to her, and she lay down. Afterwards the Gamarāla asked the Deer, “What, Deer, is thy elder sister’s illness?”

Then the Deer said, “Our elder sister has a longing.”

The Gamarāla said, “What can she eat for it?”

The Deer replied, “Our elder sister can eat the stars in the sky.”

Afterwards the Gamarāla, having gone to seek the stars, and to seek for the corner of the sky [where it joined the earth, so as to ascend to them], searched until he became aged, but was unable to find the corner; and the Gamarāla died.

Then the girl, having sold the Gamarāla’s village, took the money that was obtained there, and the wealth that he possessed [and left]. While the girl and the Deer were going on their way they met with a King. He asked the Deer, “Where, Deer, are ye going?”

The Deer said, “Our elder sister on account of thirst is going to seek a little water.”

Then the King said, “Wilt thou give thy elder sister to me [in marriage]?”

The Deer said “Hā”; so having placed the Deer and the Deer’s elder sister on the back of the King’s elephant, they went to the palace.

When a long time had passed, a longing came again to the girl, and she lay down.

The King asked the Deer, “What is thy elder sister’s illness?”

The Deer said, “Our elder sister has a longing.”

The King asked, “What can she eat for it?”

The Deer said, “Should you bring for our elder sister the sand which is at the bottom of the ocean, if she slept upon it she would be well.”

Afterwards, when the King was going to the bottom of the sea to take the sand, he was soaked with the water, and died.

After this, when the Deer and the Deer’s elder sister, taking all the King’s things, and cooking a bundle of rice, were on their way again, they met with a man. The man asked the Deer, “Where, Deer, are ye going?”

The Deer said, “We are going to seek a man for our elder sister.”

The man said, “If so, give thy elder sister to me.”

The Deer said “Hā,” and the Deer and the Deer’s elder sister went to the man’s house.

When they had been there a long time, a longing came to the woman, and she lay down. The man asked, “What, Deer, is thy elder sister’s illness?”

The Deer said, “Our elder sister has a longing.”

The man asked, “What can she eat for it?”

The Deer said, “Our elder sister must eat Nikini. Should she not eat it, it will not only be very difficult for her [to recover]; her life will be lost.” Now the sort called “Nikini” is not in any place whatever in the world. That ignorant man, not knowing of its non-existence, on account of the love that he bore for his wife went away on a search for Nikini.

Afterwards, when the foolish man was on his way to seek for Nikini, a man was ploughing. The man who was ploughing asked, “Where are you going?”

This man said, “I am going to seek for a little Nikini.”

Then the man said to this man, “If so, come here [and help me to plough].”

Those two having ploughed during the whole of that day, went in the evening to the house of the man who had been ploughing. Both of them having eaten cooked rice, the man who went to seek for Nikini asked that man, “Anē! Now then, tell me the place where there is Nikini.”

The man said, “Anē! I don’t know. Go you away.”

After that, when he had slept there that night, that man gave him a little cooked rice. Having eaten a little, while he was going on his way to seek for Nikini, a man was chopping earthen ridges in a rice field. The man asked, “Where are you going?”

This man said, “I am going to seek for a little Nikini.”

Then that man said, “If so, come here [and help me].”

After those two persons had chopped the ridges during the whole day, they went in the evening to the man’s house. While they were [there], having eaten cooked rice this man who went to seek for Nikini said, “Anē! Tell me the site where there is Nikini.”

The man said, “Anē! I don’t know. Go and ask at the hand of another person.”

When this man had slept there that day night, on the next day that man gave him a little cooked rice. Having eaten it he set off to go and seek Nikini. Then a man was sowing a rice field. The man asked him, “Where are you going?”

This man said, “I am going to seek for a little Nikini.”

The man asked, “What for?”

This man replied, “A longing has come to our house-mistress, so she told me to go and bring a little Nikini.”

The man said, “If so, come here and sow.”

For the whole of that day those two sowed. In the evening they came to the man’s house, and both of them having eaten cooked rice, while they were there this man said, “Now then, tell me the place where there is Nikini.”

Then the man said, “Yakō,2 that was not [asked for] through want of Nikini. That was said through wanting to cause you to be killed. Your wife has a paramour.”

The man quarrelled with him, saying, “Not in any way. My wife is very good. She has great love for me. If you again say such a thing as that one is there, I shall strike you.”

The other man asked, “What will you give me to catch that paramour for you?”

The person who went on the search for Nikini said, “I have a gem which has continued with us from generation to generation. I will give you that gem.” [The man accepted this offer].

Then the two persons made a cage called, “The Cage of the God Sivalinga,” and tied white cloth in it [as a lining], and trimmed a wooden cudgel and placed it inside. The man [who had gone for Nikini] was also placed inside the cage with a cloth on his shoulders, and closed in with similar cloths. Men having been fetched [and engaged to carry it]—saying that he was bringing the God Sivalinga—took it on their shoulders, and going off with it they went to a Heṭṭirāla’s shop.

Then that man said [to the person inside the cage], “After I have placed it inside the shop, take the cash-box which is in it, and put it inside the cage.”

The Heṭṭirāla asked, “What is that cage?”

The man said, “Our deity, the God Sivalinga.”

The Heṭṭirāla asked, “What is it, then, that is necessary for offering to that deity?”

The man said, “The cooked rice from two quarts of raw rice, and sweet plantains are wanted.”

So the Heṭṭirāla brought and gave him the cooked rice from two quarts of raw rice, and ripe sweet plantains. After that, the man gave to the man in the cage the cooked rice from a quart of the raw rice, and half the plantains. The other man ate the rice from the other quart, and the remaining plantains.

In the evening the man gave the cage into the hands of the Heṭṭiyā, and told him to place it in the house. So the Heṭṭiyā put the cage in the house. [During the night the man inside it stole the cash-box.] When it got near midnight the man asked for the cage, saying, “Heṭṭi-elder-brother, give me my cage so that I may go.” The Heṭṭirāla gave it.

As the man, taking the cage, was going along he met with a city. Then that man said [to the man in the cage], “After I have taken this cage and placed it in the palace, you get the things in it and put them inside the cage.” Having said this they went to the palace. The King asked, “What is that?”

The man said, “Our deity, the God Sivalinga. We are able to say sooth and the like.”

The King asked, “What do you require for him?”

The man said, “Rice cooked from raw rice, and sweet plantains are necessary.”

So the King gave him cooked rice and sweet plantains. The man having given [a share of them] to the man in the cage, said, “It is necessary to place this cage inside the palace [for the night].”

The King having said “Hā,” he brought it, and placed it inside the palace. As it was becoming light the man said, “Now then, I want the cage in order to worship the deity.” So the King gave him the cage.

Afterwards, as the man was taking the cage near a tank it became light. He remained there until it was night, and then went to the house of the man who went to seek Nikini, and found that the woman had called in another man who was there. That man asked, “What is that?”

The man said, “This is our deity, the God Sivalinga. We are able to tell sooth.”

The man said, “Hā. It is good. There is a sooth that we, too, require to ask about.”

Then the [pretended] Kapurāla, whom the God Sivalinga was [supposed to be] goading3 to it, became possessed. When he was saying sooth, the wife of the man who went to seek Nikini and the false husband who had joined her, came with their arms interlaced, and saying to the deity that a long time had elapsed since her husband had gone in search of Nikini, they asked, “Has anything happened to him now?”

At that time the God Sivalinga said through the person possessed by Sivalinga, “The man has now become blind. Besides that, he will not be permitted to return to his village. He will die while in that state.”

Then because he said this in the manner that was in the mind of the woman, she took the food off the fire, and together with the false husband brought the deity to her house, and gave the rice cooked from two quarts of raw rice, and sweet plantains, in order that the Kapurāla might present an offering.

That night, when he had eaten, the Kapurāla said, “We must place this our cage inside that [room].”

“You may do it,” they said, and they placed it in the house.

Then when the wife of the man who was inside the cage and the false husband were spreading mats [to lie upon], and making ready for sleeping, the Kapurāla who remained outside said, “Except that [cage], there is no room for two.” Thereupon the man who was inside the cage came out, and beat the false husband even on the cheeks with the cudgel that he had taken. So the man died.

After that, the man, as it was becoming light, went and threw the Deer’s elder sister into the river. Having returned, and gone to the village with the Deer, the man who went for Nikini cooked for the other man, and gave him to eat. Then the two divided the money, and he gave the man the gem which he had, as a present for him, and sent that man back to his village.

Afterwards this man, taking another wife, remained there. [According to another version, however, he became a Buddhist monk.]

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

The story is also related in a contracted form in the Western Province.

In a variant by a Tom-tom Beater of the North-western Province, a young Boar takes the place of the Deer, and the woman married first a King, and afterwards a Rākshasa who was sent for the Nikini. At the Boar’s suggestion he died by jumping into a fire made by the girl, and the Boar then followed his example, and was burnt up. The girl is represented as “smearing a great deal of gold on herself” before this, apparently becoming gilded.

1 Called also, “The Deer and the Girl and Nikini.” ↑

2 An expression often used in village talk, without any connexion with its literal meaning, “O demon.” “Fellow!” nearly expresses its ordinary meaning, which is less respectful than that of the word Bola. ↑

3 Tōtra karanawā. ↑

No. 51

The Aet-kanda Lēniyā1

At a certain city there are the King and the Queen, it is said. They had one son, and while the Prince was living there the Queen bore yet [another] Prince.

One day the two Princes having gone to the river to bathe, a Princess from another city came to bathe [at the same place], and the eldest Prince hid the robes of the Princess. Afterwards, on his inviting the Princess she went with the Prince to his city.

After they had gone there, when the King got to know of it he said, “Should this rascal stay with me the kingdom will be destroyed,” and he ordered them to behead the Prince. Then the Queen, the Prince’s mother, having cooked a bundle of rice and given it to him, said, “Go away where you like [or the King will behead you].”

The Prince having taken the packet of cooked rice to the river, ate it with the Princess. After eating it the two persons went to the house of a widow woman. The Prince made the Princess stay with her, and having given the Princess’s robes into the hands of the widow woman, said, “Mother, put those robes into that box and this box” (that is, here and there, not all in one place, so that the Princess should not be able to find them).

Afterwards, when the Prince had gone to the forge to get a sword made, the Princess said to the widow woman, “Mother, give me my robes to look at.”

The widow woman said, “Anē! Daughter, I don’t know where they are.”

The Princess said, “Why are you telling me lies? Give them to me.”

On account of that, the widow woman opened the boxes, and gave the robes to the Princess. The Princess took the robes, and saying, “Should he see me again it will be as [wonderful as] if he should see the young of the Aet-Kanda Lēniyā, or white where charcoal has been rubbed,” went away to the city of the Princess.

When the Prince came after getting the sword made, he asked at the hand of the widow woman, “Where is the Princess?”

The woman said, “On her asking for her robes I gave them. Taking them, she said, ‘Should he see me again it will be as [wonderful as] if he should see the young of the Aet-Kanda Lēniyā, or white where charcoal has been rubbed’ [and then she went away].”

The Prince on that account rubbed and rubbed charcoal, and when he looked there was a little white [colour]. Having seen it, he told the widow woman to cook cakes. When they were cooked he took some and ate; and tying up a cloth package of them, and taking it, and the sword, he went off.

As he was passing through the middle of a forest, he saw a cobra beginning to climb a tree in which were the little ones of the Aet-Kanda Lēniyā, and he cut it in two with the sword. While he was climbing the tree after killing it, the little ones of the Aet-Kanda Lēniyā came to eat him. Then he said to the little ones, “O unrighteous ones! Why are ye coming to eat me? Look ye on the ground.”

When the Aet-Kanda little ones had looked on the ground, and seen the cobra that he had cut in two, they said, “[As you have saved us from the cobra] we will render you any possible assistance.”

Then the Prince after going to the nest where they were, unfastened the package of cakes, and having given to them also, ate. After eating, the little ones of the Aet-Kanda Lēniyā said, “Mother will indeed eat you to-day when she has come.”

The Prince said, “Anē! Somehow or other you must save me.”

They said “Hā,” and made him creep among their wings.

While he was there the Aet-Kanda Lēnī (the female Rukh, their mother), having pierced with its claws a tusk elephant, came bringing it, after flying round the sea in three circles. After she had come she said, “What is this, children! Here is prey for you; are you delaying to eat? On other days you come screaming for it.”

Those young ones said, “Mother, to-day we are not hungry. Food has been given to us.”

“Whence?” she asked.

The little ones said, “There is a man with us; [he gave it to us].”

“Show me him,” the Aet-Kanda Lēnī said.

“You will eat him, mother,” they replied.

The Aet-Kanda Lēnī said, “I will not eat him.”

“If so, take us and swear,”2 the little ones said.

Then the Aet-Kanda Lēnī swore, “I will not eat him.”

After that, the little ones showed the Aet-Kanda Lēnī the Prince. The Prince said to the Aet-Kanda Lēnī, “Look at the foot of the tree; [I have saved your little ones by killing the cobra].”

After having looked, the Aet-Kanda Lēnī said, “I will give you any possible assistance because you have done this.”

Afterwards, the Prince having descended from the tree was unable to cross the river. So the Aet-Kanda Lēnī broke a stick, and bringing it in her mouth told the Prince to hang from it. While the Prince was hanging, the Aet-Kanda Lēnī flew to the other side of the river; after [leaving him there] she returned to the nest where the little ones were.

The Prince went on. As he was going along, some men were taking a great many elephants. “What are you taking those elephants for?” he asked.

Those men said, “We are taking them to kill at the city.”

The Prince said, “I will give you these hundred masuran; let them go.”

Those men, saying “Hā,” took the hundred masuran, and let the elephants go.

After that, when he had gone much further still, he saw men taking a great many pigs. The Prince asked, “Where are you taking these pigs?”

“We are taking them to kill at the city,” the men replied.

The Prince said, “I will give you these hundred masuran; let them go.”

The men said “Hā,” and taking the hundred masuran let them go.

When the Prince had gone still a little further, men were taking a great quantity of turtle-doves. “Where are you taking those turtle-doves?” he asked.

“We are taking them to the city to kill,” the men replied.

The Prince said, “I will give you these hundred masuran; let the turtle-doves go.”

The men said “Hā,” and taking the hundred masuran let them go.

When he had gone a little further still, men were taking a great many fire-flies. “Where are you taking them?” the Prince asked.

Those men replied, “We are taking them to the city to fry.”

The Prince said, “I will give you these hundred masuran; let them go.”

The men said “Hā,” and taking the hundred masuran let them go.

When he had gone a little further yet, seven widow women came to the well for water [which they said they wanted in order] to pour water on the head of that Princess, who had become marriageable. A widow woman said to that Prince, “Take hold of this water-pot [and help me to lift it up].” Then the Prince having taken the jewelled ring that was on his hand, put it in the water-pot [unobserved]; after that he took hold of the water-pot [and helped her to lift it].

When they had taken the water, and were pouring it on the head of the Princess, the jewelled ring fell down. Having seen it [and recognised it], the Princess ordered the woman to tell the Prince to come. So the Prince went there.

After he had gone there [and told her that he had made a white mark with charcoal, and had saved the lives of the little ones of the Aet-Kanda Lēniyā], that Princess said to the Prince, “[Before I will marry you, you must perform the tasks that I shall give you. First you must] cut a chena suitable for sowing one and a half amunas3 of mun̥” (a small pulse).

The Prince said “Hā,” and having gone and cut a branch or two at the chena, thought, “Anē! Will the elephants that I set free by giving a hundred masuran render an assistance?” Those elephants that he freed, having come at this word, broke down all that jungle and went away.

After that, the Prince went to the Princess, and said, “The chena has been cut.”

“Then set fire [to it],” the Princess said. So the Prince went and set fire [to the bushes]. The chena burnt excellently; nothing remained, so well it burnt.

Having gone to the Princess he said, “I set fire to the chena.” Then the Princess gave him one and a half amunas of mun̥, and said, “Sow this and come back.”

When the Prince had gone he took the mun̥ and sowed it at the chena. Afterwards the Prince said, “Anē! Will the pigs that I set free by giving a hundred masuran render an assistance?” Then the pigs that he had freed by giving the hundred masuran all came and dug [with their snouts] the whole of the chena.

The Prince went to the Princess, and said, “I have sowed the chena.” After that, the Princess told him to collect and bring back the mun̥ that he had sown in the chena.

So the Prince having gone to the chena, and collected a little mun̥, said, “Anē! Will the turtle-doves that I freed by giving a hundred masuran render an assistance?” Then the turtle-doves that he had set free having all come, picked up the whole.

The Prince, collecting it and taking it to the city said to the Princess, “After collecting the mun̥ that I sowed in the chena I have come back.”

“Then measure it,” she said. When he was measuring it there was one mun̥ seed less. As she said this a turtle-dove dropped it at the measuring place.

After that, the father of the Princess put that Princess and seven widow women in a dark room. Having put them [there] the King said, “Unless you select and take out the Princess, or if you take out any other person, I shall behead you.”

When the Prince had gone into the room [he thought], “Will the fire-flies that I freed by giving a hundred masuran render an assistance?” Then all the fire-flies having come, fastened on the body of the Princess, as a lamp. After that, the Prince took the Princess out into the light.

[As he had performed all the tasks, the Prince was married to the Princess]. Afterwards the Prince, calling the Princess, went to the house of that widow woman.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

In a variant of the first part of this story, a youth whose father was dead, and whose mother, finding him in the way, wanted to get rid of him in order to marry another man, was sent by his mother to bring some milk, to be used medicinally for curing a pretended illness of hers.

He was sent first to the Aet-Kanda Lihiniyā (Lēniyā is an alternative spelling), and had the same experiences at its nest, before he got the milk. The young birds told their mother that he was their elder brother, the son of their Puñci-Ammā.4 When he stated that he had come to ask for the milk, the Lihinī (the female Rukh) said, “Andō! Son, when did any one get milk from me, and cure a sick person with it? She has done that to kill you, not through want of it. However, since you have come I will give you a little milk.” One of the young birds accompanied him to his home. After his mother had drunk the milk she pretended to be still ill, and sent him for the milk of the Demon Hound,5 which lived in a cave in a forest. I translate this part:—

The woman cooked and gave him a packet of rice. This youth, taking the packet of cooked rice and his sword, and making the little one of the Aet-Kanda Lihinī stay at the house, went to the cave where the Demon Hound was. When he arrived, the Demon Hound was not there; only the little ones of the Demon Hound were there.

As the youth was going [to the cave] the little ones came growling to eat him. When this youth unfastened the packet of cooked rice, and showed them it, they stopped. Afterwards, the youth, having divided the packet of cooked rice, gave [part] to the Demon Hound’s little ones, and taking some himself, they ate.

After they had eaten, the young dogs said, “When mother has come she will indeed eat you.”

Then this youth said, “Anē! To-day you must somehow or other save me. Do not let her eat me.”

The young dogs said “Hā,” and putting the youth in the hollow of the cave, the young dogs came to this side, [towards the entrance], and remained there lying down.

While they were there the Demon Hound came. After she had come she said, sniffing twice, “Where does this smell of fresh human flesh come from?”

The little ones of the Demon Hound replied, “You eat fresh human flesh, and you bring fresh human flesh; what is this that you are saying?”

The Demon Hound said, “No, children, a fresh human smell is coming to me. Tell me [how it is]. Tell me.”

The little ones said, “You will eat him.”

The Demon Hound said, “No, children, I will not eat him. Tell me.”

The little ones said, “Take us and swear.”

After that, the Demon Hound took her little ones and swore, “I will not eat him.”

Then the little ones showed her that youth, saying, “Here he is, mother; our little mother’s son has come, our elder brother.”

The Demon Hound asked at the hand of this youth, “What, son, have you come for?”

This youth replied, “Mother, our mother is ill. On account of it she said, ‘Should you go and bring a little milk, when I have drunk it I shall become well.’ Because of that I have come to ask for a little milk.”

The Demon Hound said, “Andō! Son, when did a sick person get milk from me and become well! To [get] you killed is the explanation of that. However, since you have come, take a little milk and go.” So saying she gave him a little milk.

Afterwards, as this youth was preparing to set off with it, a young dog said, “I also want to go with our elder brother,” and howling [on account of it was allowed by his mother] to come away with the youth.

Having arrived and given the milk to the woman, after she had drunk it he asked, “Now then, mother, is your illness cured?”

The woman said, “Andō! Son, it is not cured.”

The youth asked, “If so, what shall I do?”

The woman replied, “Bring a little milk from the Bear that is in the cave in the forest, and give me it.”

He went for it, leaving the young Demon Hound at the house, and his adventures and the conversations were a mere repetition of those at the cave of the Demon Hound. One of the young Bears returned to the house with him.

Lastly, he was sent to bring the milk of the Crocodile that was in the Sea, “the reservoir6 for the sky, and the reservoir for the earth.” He ate his rice on a mound in the sea, after which, as he was descending into the sea, he observed a blue-lotus flower, and found the Crocodile at it. It came to eat him, but he held out his sword in front of him, so it asked him why he had come, and after hearing his explanation, in the very same words as before, gave him a little milk. It warned him, like the other animals, that the sending him for it was only a device to get him killed. He took the milk home, and after drinking it his mother informed him that she was cured. The story is then concluded as follows:—

Having said this, the woman went to the man [whom she wanted to marry], and said, “Now then, there is no means of killing that one. From the places to which he went he has escaped and come back. What, then, shall we do to that one?”

That man said, “Cook to-day after it has become night. I will break something in the lower part of the garden. Then say, ‘Son. There! Did you hear something break in the lower part of the garden? Maybe cattle have come in.’ He will come to see, and when he has come, I will chop him with the bill-hook, and kill him.”

Afterwards, this woman having returned to the house, as she was cooking when it became night, the man came and broke a stick in the lower part of the garden. The woman said, “Andō! Son, maybe cattle have come in. Go quickly [and drive them out].”

Then, as this youth, having gone into the house and taken his sword, was going out, that little one of the Aet-Kanda Lihinī, and the little one of the Demon Hound, and the little one of the Bear went with him. The three of them having gone [in front] to the lower part of the garden, bit the man who waited there, and having killed him returned. When this youth went and looked, the man had been killed. Then the youth came back, and having killed his mother stayed quietly there. So that little one of the Aet-Kanda Lihinī, and the little one of the Demon Hound, and the young Bear, and the youth remained at the house together.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

There are Indian versions of several of the incidents of these stories.

In Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 15, a Prince killed a cobra that was about to ascend a tree in order to destroy two eaglets. They assisted him afterwards.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. i, p. 221, the Garuḍas or Rukhs are described as being “of the nature of vultures.” A Brāhmaṇa got hid among the back feathers of one while it was asleep, and was carried by it to the Golden City next day. These birds are referred to (vol. i, p. 78) as breeding on a mountain called Swarṇamūla, in Ceylon. Compare also the account of Bhārunda birds in The Kathākośa (Tawney), p. 164. According to Prof. Sayce, the original idea of the Rukh is to be found in Zū, the storm-bird or god of the Sumerians (The Religions of Ancient Egypt and Babylonia, p. 353).

A lion-headed eagle with outspread wings, holding a lion by each of its feet, formed the symbol of Lagash or Shirpurla, one of the earliest Sumerian cities. It was the emblem of Ningirsu, the god of the city (A History of Sumer and Akkad, by L. W. King, 1910, pp. 98, 100). According to Mr. King’s revised chronology, this takes back the notion of this gigantic eagle, which carried off and devoured the largest quadrupeds, to the fourth millenium B.C. Its Sumerian name was Imgig.

In Folk-Tales of Bengal (Day), p. 134, a Prince’s wife, disguised as a Sannyāsi, or Hindu religious mendicant, on her way to join her husband who was ill—poisoned by lying on powdered glass that was spread over his bed—rested under a tree in which a pair of Rukhs (in this story called Bihangama and Bihangamī) had their nest, containing two young birds. She cut in two a snake that was about to climb the tree, and that was accustomed to kill the young ones each year. She overheard the conversation of the birds, which was to the effect that some of their droppings would cure the Prince, if reduced to powder and applied with a brush to the Prince’s body, after bathing him seven times, with seven jars of water and seven jars of milk. One of the birds carried her on his back to the Prince, with the rapidity of lightning. At p. 219, we learn that the dung of the young of this bird, when applied fresh to the eyeballs, would cure blindness.

At pp. 189 and 192, a puppy and a young hawk joined a Prince on his journey, but apparently owing to the omission of some incident of the tale they were of no service to him. Such omissions are common; they can only be supplied by collecting variants.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), pp. 74, 75—Tales of the Punjab, pp. 66, 67—a crow, peacock, and jackal in turn warned a girl against a robber with whom she was going.

At p. 273—Tales of the Punjab, p. 259—Prince Rasālu was given the task of separating a hundred-weight of millet seed from a hundred-weight of sand with which it had been mixed. This was done for him by crickets in return for his saving a cricket from a fire.

In the Jātaka story No. 444 (vol. iv, pp. 19, 20), a man laid his hand on the head of a boy who had been bitten by a snake, and then repeated a spell to restore him to health. The boy’s father laid his hand on the boy’s breast while saying a second spell.

In the Tamil Story of Madana Kāma Rāja, or “Dravidian Nights” (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 21 ff., a Prince purchased for a hundred pagodas apiece, a kitten and a snake, which he reared for twelve years. They assisted him afterwards.

At p. 91 ff., a Prince was ordered by a King to bring snake’s poison, and afterwards whale’s fat.

At p. 109 ff., a Prince who had four heavenly wives lost them through his mother’s returning to one of them her celestial garment, which had been concealed. When in search of a way to his wives, he saved an Ant-King, a Frog-King, and a Cricket-King. He went to Indra, who gave him four tasks, of which one was that after an acre of land had been sown with sesame seed and ploughed one hundred times, he was to collect all the seeds. The Ant-King brought his subjects and collected them for him. Another of the tasks, the last one, was the selection of Indra’s daughter, who was one of his wives, from the four, who were all given the same appearance. The Cricket-King enabled him to do this, by hopping onto her foot.

1 Also written Lihiniyā, “the Glider,” a name applied to some hawks and swallows, etc. The whole name is “Tusk-Elephant-Mountain Hawk,” or Eagle. I could learn nothing of the “Tusk-Elephant Mountain.” This bird is the Rukh or Roc of the Arabian Nights. ↑

2 Apparently she was to swear by them, touching them at the time. See No. 8, in which a Prince and Princess touched each other when swearing an oath. ↑

3 An amuna is 5·7 bushels in the district where this story was told. ↑

4 Little Mother, an expression meaning the mother’s younger sister, or the step-mother. ↑

5 Yabbaelli, apparently a kind of demon in the shape of a dog. ↑

6 Talla. ↑

No. 52

The Wimalī Story

At a certain city there are a man and a woman, it is said. That woman was about to have a child. She cooked cakes to eat. While she was eating, a crow came, and stayed there looking on. “She will throw me a piece of cake, at least,” it thought. The woman did not give it even a bit of the cakes.

Afterwards the crow went to the house of the Rākshasa, and breaking off a mango fruit came to that house, and ate it in front of the woman who ate the cakes. While the crow was eating, the woman thought, “It will throw down a piece of it, at least.” The crow did not give her any of it; it ate the whole and flew away.

After the man of the house came, the woman said, “The crow brought a mango fruit, and turned it round and round, and ate the whole of it. [Somehow or other you must get me a mango.]”

After that, the man went to the house of the Rākshasa, and having ascended the mango tree, tried to pluck a mango fruit. As he was plucking it the Rākshasa came home. Seeing the man in the tree, he asked, “Who is that in the tree?”

“Anē! I am in the tree,” said the man.

“What are you plucking mangoes for?” he asked.

“For our house-girl to eat. [She is about to have a child, and has asked for one,]” he said.

“Well then, pluck one and descend,” the Rākshasa said.

So the man plucked one, and came down. After he had descended the Rākshasa said, “Should she bear a son he is for thee; should she bear a daughter, she is for me.”

The man said “Hā,” and taking the mango fruit went home.

News afterwards reached the Rākshasa that she had borne a girl. On account of it the Rākshasa went to the house [and took the girl]. As he was returning carrying the girl, he saw two boys going to school, and said, “Boys, boys, say a name for my daughter.”

The boys saying, “Wimalī, Wimalī” (pure or beautiful one), ran away.

So the Rākshasa took the girl to his house, and shared it with her.

Afterwards, when he had gone to eat human flesh, the Rākshasa heard the sound of tom-toms saying, “Wimali,” [and thought they were calling the girl]. So he came home, and asked Wimalī, “Have you been out?”

“No, I have not been out. I have just got up,” Wimalī said.

Next day he went again to eat human flesh. After he had gone he heard the sound of tom-toms saying, “Wimali.” The Rākshasa came home, and asked Wimalī again, “Have you been out?”

“No, I have just put on my cloth,” Wimalī said.

The Rākshasa having gone to eat human flesh on the following day, again heard the sound of tom-toms saying, “Wimali.” He came home and asked Wimalī, “Have you been out?”

“No, I have only just combed my hair,” Wimalī said.

After that, news reached the King that a girl called Wimalī was at the Rākshasa’s house. Having learnt this, the King came to take away Wimalī. When he arrived there [the Rākshasa was out, so] he formed a figure of Wimalī out of rice flour, and after placing that figure in the Rākshasa’s house, took Wimalī to the city.

The Rākshasa came to the house and [finding that she was not there] said, “Wimalī will not stay at home.” Then he tried to eat her figure, and ate a great part of the flour figure. After he had eaten this [his mouth was choked with the flour, so] he said, “May a mouth be created on the top of my head.” When he had said this [the mouth was created, and] the Rākshasa’s head being split in two by it, he died.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

No. 53

The Pots of Oil

A man having gone to the Lower Twelve Pattus (the name of a district) to seek for coconuts, and having collected fifty or sixty coconuts at a shed [where he was lodging, found that] because of their great weight he was unable to bring them; and so he expressed [the oil from] them.

Having expressed it, on the morning of the following day he asked for two large pots, and filling them with the oil he tied them as a pingo (carrying-stick) load (one below each end of the stick), and set off with them.

During the time while he was coming on his way to his village, he met a man in the road, and having given him betel, etc., to eat, said, “Anē! Friend, you must assist me a little. Take this pingo load somewhat far, and hand it over to me. I will give you four tuttu” (three halfpence). [The man agreed to help him, and took the load.]

Then the man, as he was going along the road, thought, “With the funds provided by these four tuttu I shall buy a hen chicken. Having taken it home, after it has become large and laid twelve eggs I shall [set them under it and] get twelve chickens. After the twelve chickens have become big, I shall sell them for sixpence apiece. With that money I shall get a he-goat and a she-goat, and that she-goat will bear two kids.

“When the kids have become large I can sell them for five rupees apiece, and having given the ten rupees I shall get a buffalo cow. While I am rearing the buffalo cow she will bear a calf. At that time I shall go to ask about a lucky hour (fixed by astrology) for taking the [first] milk.

“After I have got to know the lucky hour and gone to take the milk, the buffalo cow, becoming afraid, will kick at me.” Saying this, he jumped aside in order to avoid it.

As he was coming on the path, at this time he had reached a foot-bridge formed of a single tree trunk (ēdanḍa), and while going along at the middle of it he made the jump [to escape the cow’s kick]. As he jumped, he fell off the tree trunk, taking the load of oil with him [and the two pots were smashed].

At his fall, the owner of the oil asked, “Having come so far taking care of this oil, why did you throw it down and break the pots at this foot-bridge, friend?”

The man said, “With the funds provided by the four tuttu I thought of buying a chicken. This happened owing to that.”

Afterwards the owner of the oil, saying, “Never mind the spilling of the oil; you must go with me,” invited the man to accompany him, and they went together. Having arrived at the village, because he was a capable man [the owner of the oil] gave him his daughter [in marriage].

Not a very long time afterwards, the men of the village said that they must go to Puttalam to load salt and sun-dried fish, and bring them back [bartering part of them on the way home]. The man said, “Father-in-law, I also must go to Puttalam.” So the father-in-law made ready a cart load of goods, and giving them to him told him to go with the other men, and said, “[When disposing of the goods] the things which they count you also count and give; the goods which they give ‘simply’ (that is, without counting), you also give ‘simply.’ ”1

Afterwards the men who went from the village, while coming back from Puttalam, from place to place gave the goods they were bringing, and took [in exchange] the things they wanted. The man having observed which goods they counted, counted and gave the same goods, without [taking] money. The goods which the other men gave without counting, that man also gave without counting. Thus, in that manner he gave all the goods loaded into the cart, until at last only the cart and the yoke of bulls remained over.

Afterwards the men who went in the party gave goods, and each one got a horse. This man gave the cart and yoke of bulls and got a horse.

While they were coming bringing the horses, the men of the party gave goods, and each one got a goat of foreign breed. So this man gave his horse, and got a goat.

While they were bringing the goats, the men of the party, saying, “We must each one get a dog with a party-coloured body,” gave goods, and got one apiece. So this man gave the foreign goat that he was bringing, and got one.

Having come to a shop where they were selling foreign pots, the men of the party gave goods, and each one got a foreign water-pot. This man giving the parti-coloured dog, also got one.

Afterwards having come very close to their village, each of the men of the party, saying, “I will give four tuttu and get shaved,” got shaved. So this man gave that foreign water-pot, and got himself shaved.

In the end the man returned home without either cart, or yoke of bulls, or goods.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

Some Eastern variants have been mentioned above in the story of the Kitul seeds, No. 26.

In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 102, there is a story by Mr. A. E. R. Corea, in which a man who was going in search of work gathered some leaves on the road-side, which are eaten as a vegetable. In another district where there were no vegetables he exchanged them for fishes, a leaf for a fish. Going on, he bartered these for digging hoes, and these again for oxen, with which he set off on his return home. Having nothing to eat, he continued to give two oxen for two rice cakes, until at last he arrived at his house empty-handed.

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), a Brāhmaṇa who had been at two feasts on the same day, carried away from the second some pots of ghī—or liquid butter,—milk, and flour, and began to consider how he would acquire wealth by means of them. He would sell them, and buy a she-goat, which would have kids, and in a short time he would possess a flock. He would then sell the goats and buy a cow and a mare, by selling the calves and foals from which he would become a rich man. He would get married and have numerous children, who would be well educated and well dressed. His wife would become inattentive to her duties at the house. During her absence the children would run about near the cows, and the youngest one would be injured by them. For neglecting them he would beat his wife, and taking up his stick to beat her he smashed the pots containing his provisions.

1 The word used, nikan, “no-act,” is employed in several senses; when a thing is given nikan, it usually means “without payment.” To come or go nikan, is to come or go without any special reason or business, and also to go empty-handed, as in a former tale. ↑

No. 54

The Mouse Maiden1

There are a King and a Queen of a certain city, and there is a daughter of the Queen.

They asked [permission] to summon the daughter to go [in marriage] to the Prince of another city. The King said “Hā,” so they came from that city to summon the King’s Princess. After coming, they told the bride to come out [of her chamber] in order to eat the rice [of the wedding-feast]. The Queen said, “She is eating cooked rice in the house.”

Then they told her to come out in order to dress her in the robes [sent by the bridegroom (?)]. The Queen said, “She is putting on robes [in her chamber].”

Then they told her to come out in order to go [to the bridegroom’s city]. So the Queen told two persons to come, and having put a female Mouseling1 in an incense box, brought it, and gave it into the hands of the two persons, and said, “Take ye this, and until seven days have gone by do not open the mouth of the box.” Having taken it to the city, when they opened the mouth of the box after seven days, a mouse sprang out, [and hid itself] among the cooking pots.

There was also a (servant) girl at the Prince’s house. The girl apportioned and gave cooked rice and vegetable [curry] to the Prince, and covered up the cooking pots [containing the rest of the food]. Then the Mouseling came, and having taken and eaten some of the cooked rice and vegetables, covered up the cooking pots, and went again among the pots.

On the following day the same thing occurred. The Prince said to the girl. “Does the Mouseling eat the cooked rice? Look and come back.” The girl having gone and looked, came back and said, “She has eaten the cooked rice, and covered the cooking pots, and has gone.” The Prince said, “Go thou also, and eat rice, and come back.” So the girl went and ate rice, and returned.

Next day the Prince said, “I am going to cut paddy (growing rice). Remain thou at the house, and in the evening place the articles for cooking near the hearth.” Then the Prince went. Afterwards, in the evening the girl placed the things for cooking near the hearth, and went out of the way.

The Mouseling came, and cooked and placed [the food ready], and again went behind the pots. After evening had come, that girl apportioned and gave the rice to the Prince. The Prince ate, and told the girl, “Go thou also, and eat rice, and come back.” So the girl went and ate rice, and having covered the cooking pots came to the place where the Prince was.

Then the Mouseling came and ate rice, and covered up the pots. After that, she said to the [other] mice, “Let us go and cut the paddy,” and collecting a great number of mice, cut all the paddy, and again returned to the house, and stayed among the pots. Next day when the Prince went to the rice field to cut the paddy, all had been cut.

Afterwards the Prince came back, and saying, “Let us go and collect and stack [the paddy],” collected the men, and stacked it, and threshed it by trampling [it with buffaloes]. Then they went and called the women, and having got rid of the chaff in the wind, brought the paddy home.

After they had brought it, the Prince went near the place where the cooking pots were stored, at which the Mouseling was hidden, and said, “Having pounded this paddy [to remove the husk], and cooked rice, let us go to your village [to present it to your parents, as the first-fruits].”

The Mouseling said, “I will not. You go.” So the Prince told the girl to pound the paddy and cook rice, and having done this she gave it to the Prince.

The Prince took the package of cooked rice, and went to the Mouseling’s village, and gave it to the Mouseling’s mother.

The Queen asked at the hand of the Prince, “Where is the girl?”

The Prince said, “She refused to come.”

The Queen said, “Go back to the city, and having placed the articles for cooking near the hearth, get hid, and stay in the house.”

After the Prince returned to the city, he did as she had told him. The Mouseling having come out, took off her mouse-jacket, and [assuming her shape as a girl] put on other clothes. While she was preparing to cook, the Prince took the mouse-jacket, and burnt it.

Afterwards, when the girl went to the place where the mouse-jacket had been, and looked for it, it was not there. Then she looked in the hearth, and saw that there was one sleeve in it. While she was there weeping and weeping, the Prince [came forward and] said, “Your mother told me to burn the mouse-jacket.” So the Mouseling became the Princess again, and the Prince and Princess remained there.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

The notion of a skin dress that could be put off and on, and that transformed a person into one of the lower animals, is well-known in folk-tales. It is found in Old Deccan Days (Frere), pp. 183, 193, where a King had a jackal-skin coat which turned him into a jackal when he put it on, until it was burnt.

At p. 222, a Princess concealed herself by putting on the skin of an old beggar woman. She was discovered when she removed it in order to wash it and herself. In the end it was burnt by the Prince she had married, and she retained her true form as a Princess.

In Indian Fairy Tales (Stokes), p. 41 ff., there is a Prince who had a monkey skin, which he could put on and off as he wished.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 344, four fairies came in the form of doves, and took off their feather dresses in order to bathe. A Prince concealed one dress, and the fairy was unable to resume her bird form and fly away.

In The Story of Madana Kāma Rāja, or “Dravidian Nights” (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), pp. 56, 57, there is an account of a tortoise Prince who had the power of leaving his shell and assuming his human form. His mother one day saw the transformation, and smashed the shell, after which he remained a Prince.

In Folk-Tales of Hindustan, Allahabad (Shaik Chilli), p. 54 ff., the daughter of the King of the Pēris had the form of a monkey while she wore a monkey’s skin, and her own form at other times. When a Prince burnt the skin she took fire, and flew away in a blaze to her father’s palace. While she was ill there, the Prince discovered her and cured her, and she did not resume her monkey form.

The feather-vest of the Dove-maidens—female Jinn—in the Arabian Nights (Lady Burton’s ed.), iii, p. 417 ff., is well known. They removed it for bathing, and could not fly without it.

1 Mī Paeṭikkī. It might be either a rat or a mouse. ↑

No. 55

Sīgiris Siññō, the Giant

In a country there was a great person called Sīgiris Siññō. He was a very wealthy person; under him ten hired labourers worked.

During the time while he was in this state, Sīgiris Siññō having thought he would drink arrack (spirit distilled from palm juice), began to drink a very little. In that way he became accustomed to drink very largely. Afterwards having come [home] drunk he went to beat the labourers; also he did not give them their wages properly. When he had acted in this manner for many days, they, after speaking together, gave Sīgiris Siññō a good beating, and on account of their [short] pay took the goods of Sīgiris Siññō, and went away. Then no one would give work to Sīgiris Siññō, so he drank until the goods in his house were finished.

Then, there being nothing for this one to drink or eat, and having become like a madman, at the time when he was walking and walking about he saw a man carrying a young coconut. Begging, “Give me that,” and taking it, he went to a travellers’ resting-shed.

While he was there eating the young coconut after breaking it, a great number of flies began to settle there. After he had struck at the flies with his hand, twenty died. Thereupon this one went to a person who did tin work, and said, “Anē! Friend, do a little work for me and give me it.”

“What is it?” the tin worker asked.

This one said, “Cut on a sheet of tin in Tamil and Sinhalese, ‘I killed twenty,’ and give me it.”

Having said, “It is good,” he cut it and gave it.

After he had cut and given it, this one took it, and preparing a hanging board, and hanging the sheet of tin on it, put the cord on his neck, and walked along the roads. Men who saw this stepped on one side through fear, and went away.

Certain Tamils having seen this at a city, said to Sīgiris Siññō, “In our country the King has a giant. Should any one fight with him and win, the King said he will give him a present of five hundred masuran, and the post of Prime Minister. This being so, can you go there with us [and fight him],” they asked.

Then Sīgiris Siññō, thinking, “Let me go even should I be struck by lightning,” said, “I am able to fight with the giant,” and went to that city with the Tamils.

Having arrived there, these Tamils handed him over to the King under whom that giant had a post. The King asked this one, “I have a giant. Canst thou fight with the giant and win?”

Sīgiris Siññō said instantly, “A son who has killed twenty giants better than that one am I.”

So the King said to his giant, “Now then, do what fighting thou knowest, and conquer that one.”

Then the giant said to Sīgiris Siññō, “To-day you must come and swim [against me] in the great sea for eight days. We require from the King ten rupees in order to get things to eat while we are swimming.” Having said this and got them, the two giants went to the shops, and got things for the ten rupees.

Then Sīgiris the Giant said to that giant, “What are these few things! For one meal I want six quarts of rice and I want three bottles of arrack. I can swim for eight or ten months.”

After that, this giant thought, “I can’t eat as much as this one, and I can’t drink as much, and I can’t swim for eight or ten months. Therefore I am indeed unable to swim with this giant and beat him.” He told the King so.

The King said, “If so, thou wilt lose.”

The giant said, “At swimming I shall lose. We must fight each other.”

“It is good,” said the King. Then the King asked Sīgiris Siññō, “Canst thou fight with this one?”

Sīgiris Siññō replied, “I will give that one one blow.”

So the King said, “Fight ye each other to-morrow.”

Thereupon Sīgiris the Giant said, “Not to-morrow. After a month has gone both giants will fight each other. Having proclaimed it, and put both of us into two houses under one roof, you must give us to eat until the month is finished.”

The King said, “It is good.”

Sīgiris the Giant having sought for an iron nail, from that day dug into the wall of the house in which the giant was [which separated their two rooms]. Having dug [nearly through] it, when the month would be finished to-morrow Sīgiris the Giant said to that giant, “Aḍē! Giant, give me a little tobacco.”

That giant said, “How can I give you tobacco there?”

Sīgiris the Giant replied, “Knock a hole through that wall with your hand, and give me it.”

“I cannot,” that one said.

Then Sīgiris the Giant said, “What sort of a giant art thou, one who can’t make a hole through that wall and give me a little tobacco!” Saying, “Look there! Give me it through there,” Sīgiris the Giant struck with his hand at the place which he had previously bored. When he struck it his hand made a hole through to the other side. That giant becoming afraid at the blow, began to tremble, and thought, “I can’t win in fighting with this one.”

On the following day they made them come out to fight. The place was filled with people who had come to look on. Sīgiris the Giant thinks in his mind, “To-day is indeed my Fate. How shall I escape?” That giant, through fear his thoughts were the same.

The King said, “Strike ye each other.”

Having said, “It is good,” each one being afraid of the other, said, “Strike thou.” Sīgiris says to the other, “Thou strike,” he says. By that one and by this one not a blow was struck.

Then the King says to Sīgiris the Giant, “Strike thou first.”

Sīgiris the Giant said, “It is good,” and thinking of running away, and saying to the people, addressing them loudly, “Get to both sides, and stop there,” looked round to run off. At that, the other giant, rolling the people over, began to run away, and the people who were there cried “Hū,” after him.

Then the King having become pleased with Sīgiris Siññō, and having given him a present of five hundred masuran, established him in the post of Prime Minister.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 89—Tales of the Punjab, p. 80—a weaver who killed a mosquito thought himself a hero, and eventually became the ruler of half the country.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 208, a weaver killed nine flies on his arm, and called himself Nomār Khan, the Nine-killing Prince. He became Commander-in-Chief.

No. 56

The Proud Jackal

In the midst of a certain forest a Lion stayed. Having joined with that very Lion, a Jackal was eating and eating the flesh of animals killed by the Lion.

After a few days had gone by, the Jackal, becoming arrogant, said to the Lion, “Don’t say ‘Jackal’ to me.”

Thereupon, “What shall I say?” the Lion asked.

Then the Jackal says, “You must call me, saying to me, ‘Jackal-artificer’ (Nari nayidē).”

In this way, when the Lion had said, “Jackal-artificer,” for many days, he said, “Don’t say ‘Jackal-artificer.’ ”

“What name am I to say?” the Lion asked.

“Say to me, ‘Small Lion’; don’t say, ‘Jackal-artificer,’ ” he said.

After the Lion had been saying, “Small Lion,” for a few days, “Say to me, ‘Great Lion’; don’t say, ‘Small Lion,’ ” he said to the Lion.

Then the Lion says, “For me to say, ‘Great Lion,’ you must make the Lion’s roar,” the Lion said.

Then the Jackal having gone near a tusk elephant, after he had cried out, as the Lion’s roar, “Hokkiyē, Hokkiyē” (the beginning of the customary yelping cry of the Jackal), the tusk-elephant kicked the Jackal.

Thereupon the Jackal died.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

In the Jātaka stories 143 (vol. i, p. 306) and 335 (vol. iii, p. 75), a Jackal who acted as a Lion’s servant induced his master to let him go out in the latter’s place, in order to kill animals. He howled and sprang at an elephant, but was crushed to death by it.

STORIES OF THE DURAYĀS

No. 57

The Seven Robbers

In a country there are seven robbers. Among them, in the same gang, there is a fool. One day they went to commit robbery. While they were there, they got a devil-dancer’s box, containing his mask and ornaments. Having brought it, the seven persons went into a rock cave to sleep.

When they had gone there that foolish man became hungry. After the others went to sleep that fool took out the devil-dancer’s clothes, and having looked at them put them on.

After he had put them on, one of those men opened his eyes. Then on account of the noise of the bells [of the devil-dancer] the others opened their eyes also. When they saw the man dressed in the devil-dancer’s clothes they were frightened, and saying, “Aḍē! The Kohomba deity is coming,” the other six persons ran away.

As they were running, that man who had the clothes ran after them, saying, “Stay there, stay there.” While they were running those six persons leaped over a well [in the path]. This one also jumped, but being held back by the clothes he fell into the mouth of the well.

After he had fallen into the well, a woman came to draw water. Then he placed his weight in the bucket when she lowered it. After the woman had got to know of the weight, striving and striving she got the bucket near the mouth of the well. The man who had fallen, and was in it, said, “A little more, my mother.” Then the woman hearing this [and seeing what she thought was a demon in the well], let go, and bounded away.

Durayā. North-western Province.

In The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 136, a story is given regarding twenty-five idiots, in which is a variant of this tale. Some robbers whom one of them was assisting left him outside a house with a basket that he had brought out of it. While they were inside searching for booty, he found in the basket the dress worn in representations of a demon termed Garā Yakā, and put it on. When the robbers came out they thought he was the demon himself, and ran off, with the idiot at their heels. In the end, they jumped into a well, were followed by him, and all were drowned.

No. 58

The Stupid Boy

In a certain city there are a Gamarāla, a Gama-gāēni (his wife), and a son of theirs. The Gamarāla went to the chena. The Gama-gāēni lay down, and told the Gama-puta (the son) to examine her head [for insects]. While he was looking through the hair she fell asleep, and a fly settled on her head. “Aḍē! Fly, do not bite our mother’s head,” he said, “mother will scold me.”

The fly having gone flying away, settled again on her head. Saying, “Now then, this fly is biting mother’s head again,” he placed his mother’s head gently on the ground. Then having gone and taken a rice pestle, and come back with it, he said, “Is the fly still biting the head?” and struck at the fly with the rice pestle, killing his mother with the blow.

The boy’s father having come, tried to arouse her. “How is it that mother is dead?” he asked. The boy said, “A fly was biting our mother’s head. I struck it with the rice pestle. Because of it she died.” So the Gamarāla took the woman away and buried her.

Then he came home with the boy. Having arrived, the Gamarāla told the boy to make a pot of gruel. Having made the pot of gruel he told the boy to take it, and they went to the jungle to cut fence sticks. The man, cutting and cutting the fence sticks, told the boy to draw them out, and throw them down. Then the boy, taking the fence sticks, threw them into the river.

Taking the pot of gruel, and making a raised platform of sticks, he placed it on it. The Gamarāla said to the boy, “Now then, as you have come here, go and drink gruel.” Then the boy having gone under the stick frame, and pierced the bottom of the pot, and made a hole through it, placed his mouth under it, and drank a sufficient quantity. Still the gruel comes from the pot, so the boy said to the pot of gruel, “Father is there. Don’t come out, gruel.”

Having cut the fence sticks, the Gamarāla came to drink gruel. There was nothing in the gruel pot. He asked at the hand of the boy, “Where, Aḍā! is the gruel?”

“The gruel went out while I was saying don’t go,” he said.

Then the Gamarāla thought, “There is no need to keep this boy,” and having beaten him he drove him away.

As the boy was going, weeping and weeping, he met with a Buddhist monk.1 There were two bundles in the Lord’s hand. He told the boy to take the couple of bundles. As the boy was carrying them he asked at the hand of the Lord, “What is there in the bundles?”

“Palm-sugar packets,2 and plantains,” he said.

The Lord asked at the hand of the boy, “What is thy name?”

The boy said, “My name is Aewariyakkā Mulakkā.”

As he was coming along from there the boy lagged behind. So the monk spoke to the boy, “Aewariyakkā Mulakkā, Aḍā! Come on quickly,” he said. Then the boy ate some packets of sugar,3 and rows of plantains.4

The monk having gone to the pansala (monk’s residence), when he looked [found that] packets of sugar and rows of plantains were missing. “Aḍā! where are the other plantains and palm-sugar that were in these?” he asked.

“Lord, I am a packet eater (Mulakkā), and a first-row-of-plantains eater (Aewariyakkā),” he said. “I ate them.” There and then, having beaten the boy, he chased him away.

Then, as a washerwoman-aunt was washing clothes, she saw the boy going along, and asked him, “Can you live at our house?” “I can,” he said. She asked his name; Giyā (“He went”) he said was his name.

Having taken the washed clothes, and placed them in the house, he asked at the hand of the mother for the [unwashed] clothes that were in the house. She told him to come [and take them]. After the boy had come in, the mother asked at the hand of the boy, “What is your name?” The boy said, Āwō (“He came”), and took the clothes away.

Afterwards, because both the clothes and the boy were missing, [the washer-woman] having searched and looked for him, went home. On account of her going late the washerman called her [and asked the reason]. She said, “It is because of Giyā” (the words might also mean, “It is because he went”). A man who was in the house having heard it, said, “Aḍā! He said Āwō.”

While both were saying, “Giyā,” “Āwō,” (“He went, he came”), the boy took the clothes, and went to his village.

Durayā. North-western Province.

The fly-killing incident occurs in Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 306, in which a Buneyr man killed an old woman by throwing a stone at a fly that was on her face.

In the Jātaka story No. 44 (vol. i, p. 116), a boy killed his father by striking with an axe at a mosquito that had settled on his pate, splitting his head at the blow. In the next Jātaka tale, a girl killed her mother by aiming a blow with a pestle at the flies that had settled on her head when she was lying down.

In The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 284, there is a Kashmīr story by the Rev. J. H. Knowles, in which a bear who had become friendly with a man, killed him by throwing a piece of rock at a bee which had settled on his mouth. Reference is also made to a similar story in the Journal A.S.B., vol. iii, part i, 1883.

A considerable part of the story now given is a variant of No. 10 above. I have inserted it on account of the low caste of the narrator.

When the monk repeated the boy’s name on ordering him not to lag behind, he was in reality telling him to eat the plantains and sugar, the meaning of Aewariyak kā Mulak kā being, “Eat thou a first row of plantains; eat thou a packet (of the sugar).”

1 Unnānsē namak. In the villages, namak, “a name,” takes the place of kenek, “person”, in speaking of monks. ↑

2 Hakurun. ↑

3 Mulakun. ↑

4 Aewariyakun. ↑

No. 59

The Gamarāla and the Washerman

In a certain country there are a Gamarāla and a Washerman.1 Those two persons cut a chena. As they were cutting the chena a jungle-cock crowed. The Gamarāla said to the Washerman, “Please catch that crowing jungle-cock, and come back.”

Then the Washerman said, “Will you do the chena work until I catch the jungle-cock and come back?” he asked.

“Until you come I will do the chena work,” he said.

From there that man came home, and remained there. When the chena [crop] was ripening he caught the jungle-cock, and went back.

“I shall not give thee a share of the chena,” the Gamarāla said.

Thereupon the Washerman instituted a lawsuit against him.

When they were going for it on the day of the trial, he borrowed a cloth from the Gamarāla, and went after putting it on. When the action was being heard the Washerman said, “He will say next that this cloth is that gentleman’s.”

Then the Gamarāla said, “It is so indeed. If not, Bola, whose is that cloth?” he asked.

The Washerman said, “There! I said so. O Lord, when coming on account of this day of the trial, was it necessary for me to ask for a cloth from that gentleman? Am I without clothes to that extent?”

After that, the judge told them to divide the chena in two, [and each take half of it]. Afterwards, having come there they divided it in two.

Again, this Washerman and the Gamarāla sowed a paddy field (rice field). Of the paddy plants in the field, those things that were above the ground were for the Washerman, they said. Those which were below the ground were for the Gamarāla, they said. Having cut the paddy when the crop ripened, they threshed it by trampling [with cattle], and the Washerman took the paddy. Afterwards they cut the ground; there was nothing for the Gamarāla.

Again, these two persons planted onions. This time, those things that were above the ground were for the Gamarāla, they said. Those that were below the ground were for the Washerman, they said. When the crop was ready, the Gamarāla having cut off the onion stumps, heaps them up together; the Washerman dug up and got the onions.

After that, those two persons got a buffalo bull. The front part of that bull was for the Washerman, they said; the after part for the Gamarāla, they said.

Next, the two persons got a buffalo cow. The front part was for the Gamarāla; the after part for the Washerman, they said. Thereupon the calves which the buffalo cow bore belonged to the Washerman, he said. When the Gamarāla asked for calves because the front part did not give birth to calves, “There is nothing for you,” he said.

After that, the Gamarāla, in order to build a house, cut Waewarana, Kaeṭakāla, Mīlla, Kolon trees (good timber trees commonly used in building houses). The Washerman, also, saying, “I also must build a house,” cut Paepol, Eramudu, Murungā trees (all of which are soft woods, quite useless for any kind of work).

When the Gamarāla’s wife was coming near his house, the Washerman, taking the Naekat Pota (an astrological book which deals with prognostications), read aloud from it [these sham prognostications regarding the results to the occupiers if these woods be used in house building]: “For a house of Waewarana, diarrhoea; for a house of Kaeṭakāla, quarrel; for a house of Mīlla, hanging; for a house of Eramudu, purity; for a house of Paepol, land.”

Then the Gamarāla’s wife having heard this, goes and says to the Gamarāla, “You have done a foolish thing again. We shall have only sickness and trouble if we build the house with those trees. In the Naekat Pota it is so written. If we use the trees that the Washerman has cut we shall be fortunate.” So the Gamarāla went to the Washerman, and persuaded him to exchange trees with him. Then the Washerman built himself a good house with the Gamarāla’s trees. The trees which the Gamarāla got were of no use to him.

Durayā. North-western Province.

The incident at the trial in the first part of this story occurs in a slightly different form in a folk-tale that I heard in Cairo. As I am not aware that it has been published I give it here, condensing the first portion (see No. 60).

The planting incidents are related by Rabelais, in Pantagruel, chapters 45 and 46. For the benefit of readers in Ceylon, I give the account:—

THE DEVIL AND THE HUSBANDMAN

This devil having arrived at the place, addressed a husbandman and asked him what he did. The poor man replied to him that he sowed that field of early wheat to assist him in living during the following year. “But really,” said the devil, “this field is not thine; it is mine and belongs to me …; however, I leave thee the field. But it is on condition we shall share the profit.” “I agree to it,” replied the husbandman. “I mean,” said the devil, “that of the coming profit we shall make two shares. The one shall be what grows above the ground, the other what shall be covered in the earth. The choice belongs to me, for I am a devil of a noble and ancient race; thou art only a villein. I choose that which will be in the ground, thou shalt have that above. When will the reaping be?” “In the middle of July,” replied the husbandman. “Now,” said the devil, “I need not be present here. In other respects do thy duty. Work, villein, work.”

The middle of July having come, the devil presents himself again at the place, accompanied by a squadron of little chorister devilets. Meeting there the husbandman, he said to him, “And now, villein, how hast thou been since my departure? It is requisite to make our division now?” “That is right,” replied the husbandman.

Then the husbandman, with his people, began to reap the corn. The little devils similarly drew the stubble from the ground. The husbandman threshed his corn in the air, put it in sacks, and carried it to the market to sell. The devilets did the same, and at the market seated themselves near the husbandman to sell their stubble. The husbandman sold his corn very well, and with the money filled an old sock which he carried at his belt. The devils sold nothing, but on the contrary the peasants jeered at them in the midst of the market.

The market being over, said the devil to the husbandman, “Villein, thou hast cheated me this time; at another thou shalt not deceive me.” “My Lord Devil,” replied the husbandman, “how have I cheated you who have chosen first? True it is that in that choice you thought of cheating me, hoping that nothing would come out of the ground as my share, and to find, below, the whole of the corn that I had sown …. But you are very young at the trade.”… “Leave this discourse,” said the devil; “with what canst thou sow our field this following year?” “For profit,” replied the husbandman, “and good economy it is expedient to sow radishes.” “Now then,” said the devil, “thou art an honest man; sow plenty of radishes. I shall protect them from tempests, and shall not hail at all on them. But, understand thoroughly, I keep as my share what shall be above ground; thou shalt have what is below. Work, villein, work.”

The time for the reaping having come, the devil was present at the spot with a squadron of household devilets. There, meeting the husbandman and his people, he began to reap and collect the leaves of the radishes. After him the husbandman dug and drew out the large radishes, and put them into sacks. So they went all together to the market. The husbandman sold his radishes very well. The devil sold nothing. What was worse, they jeered at him publicly.

“I see well, villain,” the devil then said, “that I am cheated by thee. I want to make an end of the field between thee and me.”

I add a variant of the cultivating caste, as some incidents are new.

The Gamarāla and the Washerman. (Variant.)

In a certain country there is a Gamarāla, it is said. A Washerman, having come there, became friendly with the Gamarāla. Having become friendly, he takes charge of the Gamarāla’s cattle for grazing. During the time while he was grazing them the two persons chop chenas and do rice field work.

Well then, the two persons having become very thoroughly friends, at the time while they were thus, the cattle grazed by the Washerman increased by a buffalo bull and a buffalo cow. Afterwards, the Washerman having come [to the other man] said, “Now then, Gamarāhami,2 we must divide the two cattle between us.” The Gamarāla said, “Hā. Let us divide them.” Afterwards the Washerman having gone and caught the two cattle, tied them up.

The Gamarāla went there. Then the Washerman said, “Now then, the Gamarāhami indeed has cattle. I myself have no cattle. Because of it, let the after portion of this buffalo cow be for me. The front portion the Gamarāhami will be good enough to take.” The Gamarāla, having consented to that, said, “Hā. It is good.” Well then, in complete agreement they shared the buffalo cow.

Again, to share the buffalo bull the Washerman said, “Gamarāhami, let the front side of the buffalo bull be for me, the after side the Gamarāhami will be good enough to take.” Well then, the Gamarāla having consented to that also, by the agreement of the two persons they divided the buffalo bull also.

During the time while they were thus, the Washerman having taken the buffalo bull ploughs for himself. The Gamarāla also one day was going to take the buffalo bull to plough. Then the Washerman quarrelled with him: “The front part belongs to me; the after part belongs to you. I will not allow you to plough with my side,” he said.3 The Gamarāla having become angry came home.

The buffalo cow having gone to the Gamarāla’s house eats by stealth. Men having come told the Gamarāla, “Gamarāla, your buffalo cow comes to our rice field [and eats the crop]. On that account attend well to its grazing.”

Then the Gamarāla said, “Don’t tell me. Tell that to the Washerman.”

Then the men having gone, told the Washerman, “Washerman, the buffalo cow that you are causing to graze eats by stealth [in our rice field]. Attend well to its grazing.”

The Washerman said, “What are you telling me? Doesn’t the front half belong to the Gamarāhami? Isn’t it the Gamarāhami who must attend to the grazing?”4

The Washerman having come to the Gamarāla’s house, quarrelled with the Gamarāla [over it]. The Gamarāla became very angry.

Afterwards, the Gamarāla went to institute a lawsuit against the Washerman [on account of these matters]. That day, having entered the suit, and having come back to the village, he went to the Washerman to tell him the day of the trial. Having told him, the Gamarāla came home.

On the following day, the Washerman came to the Gamarāla. Afterwards, the Gamarāla having given the Washerman to eat and drink, and having made ready to go for the day of the trial, the Washerman said, “Gamarāhami, I have no [suitable] cloth to wear when going.” The Gamarāla gave (that is, lent) him a cloth. The Washerman putting on the cloth, both of them went for the trial-day.

After they went, the assessors5 having assembled heard the lawsuit. When they asked the Gamarāla [regarding the matter], the Gamarāla said, “The after portion of the buffalo cow belongs to the Washerman; the front portion belongs to me.”

When they asked the Washerman he said, “Because the front portion of the buffalo bull belongs to me, I will not allow him to plough with the buffalo bull. Because the front portion of the buffalo cow belongs to the Gamarāhami, the Gamarāhami must attend to the grazing,” he answered.

Then after the assessors had thus asked him they said, “What the Washerman said is true.”

Thereupon the Washerman says, “That gentleman (Rāhami) will now say that this cloth which I am wearing is the gentleman’s, maybe!”

The Gamarāla asked, “Yes, indeed. Whose is it, Bola, if that cloth is not mine?”

Then the Washerman says to the assessors, “There! Be good enough to look. Didn’t that gentleman just now say that the cloth I am wearing is the gentleman’s. In that manner, indeed, he has brought this lawsuit, also.”

At that time the assessors said to the Gamarāla, “There is not a thing for us to say regarding this [except that] he is to gain [the action] against you.”

Then the Gamarāla having lost, came back with the Washerman to the village.

At that time, while the Gamarāla was angry with the Washerman, the Gamarāla, having said that he must build a house for himself, and having gone to the jungle, cut Halmilla, Mīlla, Waewarana trees; these three sorts [of good timber trees].

Then the Washerman, having got news that he had cut these woods, also went to the jungle, and having said, “I also must build a house for myself,” cut Paepol wood, Murungā wood, Eramudu wood; those three sorts [of soft useless woods]. After heaping them together, he wrote a book [of sham prognostications]: “For the house [built] of Halmilla, begging; for the house of Waewarana, killing; for the house of Mīlla, begging; for the house of Paepol, land; for the house of Eramudu, purity; for the house of Murungā, purity.”

After writing these, the Washerman taking up the book while the Gama-Mahagē (the Gamarāla’s wife) was going past for water, says them over every day for the Gama-Mahagē to hear. The Gama-Mahagē having heard them, said to the Gamarāla, “A book of the Washerman’s says thus. Because of it, come with the Washerman, and having given him our small quantity of timber speak with him to allow us to take his small quantity of timber.”

Afterwards, the Gamarāla having gone to the Washerman, asked at the hand of the Washerman, “Washerman, give me your small quantity of timber, and take for yourself my small quantity of timber.”

Then the Washerman says, “I don’t know [if I can do it], Sir (Rāhamiyē). I cannot [willingly], through sorrow [at the loss to me], give you my small quantity of timber, indeed; but because the gentleman says it, any way whatever is good. Be good enough to take it.”

Afterwards the Gamarāla brought [home] the Washerman’s small quantity of timber. The Washerman brought the Gamarāla’s small quantity of timber. Having brought it, the Washerman with the small quantity of the Gamarāla’s timber thoroughly built the house for himself, the Gamarāla also building the house for himself from the Washerman’s timber. When only three months had gone, the Gamarāla’s house fell down, and the Gama-Mahagē, having been underneath it, died. The house which the Washerman built from good timber remained in good condition.

North-western Province.

1 Sēnawalayā. ↑

2 A contraction of Gama-rālahāmi. Hami is an intermediate form between swāmi, “lord”, and himi; Wanniyās still use the latter. ↑

3 The yoke of the plough is placed on the neck and fastened there, on the Washerman’s half of the animal. ↑

4 Because the mouth which grazes is in the Gamarāla’s half of the cow. ↑

5 Raṭē wissa. The word is new to me; this appears to be the meaning. ↑

No. 60

The Two Thieves

Two thieves at Cairo were in love with the same girl, who promised to marry the one who showed the greatest cleverness.

The first one assisted a rich merchant in purchasing some cattle, and eventually purloined a bag of money which the merchant was carrying in the large pocket in the front of his gown, and put a similar bag in its place containing an orange or two.

The theft was discovered when the merchant was about to pay the money for the cattle. The robber assumed the rôle of the sympathising friend, and suggested that a mistake might have been made by the merchant’s wife, and the wrong bag given to him. The merchant went home to inquire about it, and on his return the robber ran up to him, and embraced and kissed him, saying, “Hallo, Friend! I am very glad to see you again. I hope you have succeeded in finding your money.” As he said this he put back the purse, and took the bag of oranges.

The merchant replied, “I hope God will hear what you say.”

The thief said, “You are playing me a trick; put your hand in your pocket, and feel if your purse is not there.”

So he put his hand in his breast pocket, and found his bag of money there. The thief explained the matter, and requested him to relate the particulars to the girl, who then decided that she would marry this thief.

I give the rest of the story in full, as it was dictated to me:—

The second thief said, “Oh! that is nothing. I can play a better trick than that. Will you be kind enough to come to-morrow morning to the Government offices to see me?” The merchant man said, “I also will come to see the trick.” Then the merchant went away, and the three remained there till evening.

After dinner, the second robber went out to the café to spend the time, and there he met one of the higher class people. The robber said, “Salām,” and sat down next this merchant. They both smoked hashish together, and the thief told him, “I have just arrived from outside the city. The four gates are now shut, and I cannot return. I do not know where to go to sleep.”

The merchant told him, “Don’t you feel ashamed to say that to me when you know what size my house is?”

The robber said, “Thank you for the favour,” and at the end of their smoke they went together to the merchant’s house. When the two entered, lights were put in the writing room, with two beds for them, so that they might sleep together there.

While the merchant was fast asleep and snoring, the robber awoke, and took the key of the money-box and the seal from the merchant’s pocket, opened the box, counted the money, wrote a promissory note giving the amount of each kind of money, signed it with the merchant’s seal, and put all back again as before, keeping the note. He then went to sleep again.

Next morning they breakfasted together, becoming very friendly, and the robber said, “Please can you lend me your horse and a clean suit of clothes, because I must go to report a person to the Government?” So the merchant gave him a clean suit and a horse, and told him, “You can change your clothes and wash here. I must go to my office.” He then left.

The robber put on the clothes, and rode off to the Government office, and explained his case, and asked for a man to be sent to fetch the merchant, as he had to recover a large sum of money from him. The Chief of the Police sent a man to call him.

When the merchant came, the Chief of the Police asked him, “Why don’t you pay this gentleman the money you owe him?”

He says, “Which gentleman?”

“This gentleman,” said the Chief of the Police, pointing to the robber.

“This one!”

“Yes, I am the one,” said the robber.

The merchant said, “Don’t you feel ashamed at saying I owe you some money?”

“Of course,” he replied, and then he took out the promissory note, and handed it to the Chief of the Police.

The Chief of the Police looked at it, and said, “Hallo! That is a big amount.”

The merchant asked to see it, and he looked at the list, and said, “I have not got so much money in my box. If I have so much in my house it must really be yours.”

The Chief of the Police sent some men to bring the box to the station, and on counting the money in it, he found it was exactly the amount written in the promissory note. The woman, and the other robber, and the merchant who was tricked on the previous day were all present and listening, and were all astonished.

The Chief of the Police said, “Well, it must be the claimant’s money,” and he gave it to him.

The merchant was angry, so the robber said, “I suppose you will be saying next that the horse is yours, and the suit I am wearing”; and when the merchant angrily demanded them the robber requested the Chief of the Police to lock the man up, because he was now trying to steal his horse and clothes.

Then the merchant was locked up, and the robber left the money in the box at the Police Station, and rode off to his own home, where he met the woman and the first robber. He asked them, “How do you like that trick?”

She said, “A very clever man you are,” and she agreed to marry him.

After three days they both went to the merchant, and told him the whole story, and returned him the money, and the horse and clothes. And the merchant was so pleased to get them back that he gave them some money to live upon.

In Folk-Tales of Kashmir (Knowles), 2nd ed., p. 297 ff., two thieves had one wife, who agreed that she should belong only to the one who brought her the most valuable spoil in two days. The King executed her, as being the instigator of the robberies they committed.

No. 61

The Margōsa Tree

In a certain city there is a King, it is said. The King thought of growing a Margōsa tree without bitterness [in the fruit], so one day he made proclamation accordingly by beat of tom-toms.

While two friends of one village were coming to seek a means of subsistence they heard this sound of tom-toms. When they asked at the hand of a tom-tom beater, “What is the sound of tom-toms for?” he said, “What is it? His Majesty our King will give presents to any person who should grow and give him a Margōsa tree without bitterness.” One of the friends, saying, “I can [do it],” went to the royal palace.

“Canst thou grow and give me a Margōsa tree without bitterness?” the King asked.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he said.

“What things dost thou want for it?” the King asked.

“I want monthly a hundred-weight of sugar and a large pot of cow’s butter,” he said.

After that, the King asked, “Where wilt thou grow it?”

“I must grow it on the edge of a river,” he said.

Having built and given him a house on the edge of the river, he gave him a hundred-weight of sugar and a large pot of butter monthly.

Seven times in succession he planted seven trees. Seven times the seven trees were washed away by the river.

During the time while he was there in that way, the other friend having come, asked, “Where is the tree?”

Then the friend who had planted the tree says, “Either the King, or I, or the river.”1

The words that he said meant, “Either His Majesty the King will die; if not, I shall die, because of no means of subsistence.”

“Having cheated the King I get a living. When it is so, the foolish King has been caught by my trick.”

Durayā. North-western Province.

1 Rājā hō, mā hō, gangā hō. “Either the King, or I, or the river” [floods] will come to an end (naeti wenawā). He meant that if the periodical floods in the river did not come to an end, the job would last during the King’s life-time, and that if he gave it up he had nothing else to live upon. ↑

No. 62

The Gamarāla’s Foolish Son

While a Gamarāla and a Gama-gāēni (his wife) were at a village, as there were no children to those two for a long time they went to a Dēwāla, and worshipped the Gods in order to obtain a child. After that they obtained a child. As that child was growing up the Gamarāla and Gama-gāēni were becoming very old.

So one day the Gamarāla says to the Gama-gāēni, “Before we die we must summon and give a bride to the youth.” Having said this they summoned and gave him a small girl.

During the time while they were living thus, the Gamarāla had an illness. After that the Gamarāla died. Afterwards, while the Gama-gāēni, and the son, and the son’s wife were there, one day the wife of the Gama-puta (son of the Gamarāla) said, “Now then, let us go to my village, and having gone there, sowing our rice field lands let us do cultivation”; and both of them went.

While they were there, one day, as an illness settled on the Gama-puta’s wife, the Vedarāla (village doctor) went to see her. The Vedarāla asked, “What is the illness?”

Then he said, “My wife has tumours which are growing large.” The Vedarāla having made a medicine which was to be rubbed [on the places], and having come to the house gave it, saying, “Rub thou this medicine on them.”

When he had been rubbing it for four or five days they grew larger. The Gama-puta having seen this, said, “Aḍā! These tumours are becoming very severe. I cannot go for medicine every day if they go on like this. Let us go to my village.” So they set off to come to the Gama-puta’s village.

As they were coming, a man was driving a bull on the road. This Gamarāla’s son asked, “Where are you taking the bull?”

The man said, “I am taking it to my village,” he said. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“We are going to my village. My wife has tumours. We are going to apply medical treatment,” he said.

“Where? Let us look at them. I also know a little medical art,” he said.

Then he showed them. When the man who was taking the bull saw them he said, “They are growing larger; they will never become well,” he said.

Then the Gama-puta thought, “This woman does not matter to me.” So he said, “It would be good for you to give me that bull and take this woman.” So taking the bull he gave the woman.

“This one has water in his stomach (i.e., he had drunk water); you will be careful,” the man said.

Then having taken the bull, as he was going to the village he took a large cloth and tied it round the middle of the bull. While he was there after tying it, a man came, carrying a bill-hook on his shoulder. When he saw it he asked, “What is this doing?”

“This one has water in his stomach; on that account I have tied the cloth round it,” he said.

Having seen the bill-hook, “What is that?” he asked.

“This is a bill-hook,” the man said.

After he asked, “What do you do with the bill-hook?” the man said, “Taking a packet of cooked rice and a water-gourd, it is for cutting the jungle,” he said.

When he asked, “Will you take this bull and give me the bill-hook,” the man said, “It is good,” and having given the bill-hook went away taking the bull.

Then the Gama-puta, having taken the bill-hook, and gone to the village, during the time while he was there thought he would go to cut jungle. Having thought so, he took a packet of cooked rice and a water-gourd, and the bill-hook, and having placed them upon a rock he remained looking on. Seeing that the bill-hook stayed [there] without cutting the jungle, and thinking that it was because he was looking at it, he came home.

Having come and eaten rice, and having gone back afterwards, when he looked, the bill-hook having been put in the sun had become extremely hot. So the Gama-puta thinks, “The bill-hook having got fever, is it on that account it did not eat the cooked rice and did not cut the jungle?”

He went quickly for medicine. Having gone he told the Vedā (village doctor). The Vedā having looked [at it] told him to bury it under the frame on which the water pots were set. Afterwards, having come home, he buried it under the water-pots’ frame. On the following day, after he had looked [he found that] having become thoroughly wetted by the water it was cold. Having seen that, he got into his mind [the notion], “Aḍā! The medical treatment is very good.”

When a little time had gone, one day the Gamarāla’s wife had a severe illness, having got fever. The Gama-gāēni said, “Son, I have much fever. Having gone for medical advice and brought a little medicine, give me it,” she said.

He said, “It is good,” and speedily having cut a hole under the water-pots’ frame, and put the Gama-gāēni in the hole, he covered her with earth.

Afterwards when he looked, the fever having thoroughly gone down she had become cold like a plantain tree; and saying, “Aḍā! Mother’s fever is completely well,” he went away.

Durayā. North-western Province.

In Indian Fables (Ramaswami Raju), p. 71, a variant of the last incident is given. A man with severe fever having cooled a red-hot poker in cold water, thought he could cool himself in the same way, so he sat in a tub of cold water, with a fatal result.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 83, a weaver got a smith to make a sickle that would cut corn of itself. He laid it beside the standing corn, which he ordered it to cut; but on returning he found no work done, and the sickle ill with fever, through being in the sun. The smith to whom he applied for advice recommended him to tie a string to it, and lower it into a well; this cooled it. When his mother caught fever he treated her in the same way until she died and became cold.

No. 63

The Jackal’s Judgment

At a village there is a tank. A Crocodile, making a burrow in the [foot of the] embankment, stayed in it. Afterwards the mud having dried and become hard, the Crocodile being unable to get out of the hole was going to die.

As a man was going past to fetch a midwife-mother to attend to his wife, the Crocodile, hearing him, said to the man, “Somehow or other manage to save me by breaking up the earth so that I may get out.” The man broke up the earth, and let it out.

After that, as there was no water left in the tank, the man, placing the Crocodile on his shoulder, went to the edge of the river. Having gone there, after he had placed it in the water, the Crocodile seized the arm of that man in order to eat him.

“Why wilt thou eat me?” he asked. “Dost thou not know the help I gave thee? Yet thou art going to eat me!”

The Crocodile said, “It is true, indeed, regarding the assistance. It is because I am hungry that I am going to eat thee.”

The man said, “It is good. Eat thou me. There are my witnesses, two or three persons. First ask them [regarding the justice of it], and then eat me.” So they went to ask the witnesses about it.

Having met with a Kumbuk tree,1 he said to the Kumbuk tree, “This Crocodile is going to eat me. I ask this one’s opinion of it.”

“What is that about?”

The man said, “This Crocodile was going to die. I saved it. It is now going to eat me. Is that right?”

Then the Kumbuk tree says, “O Crocodile-cultivator, do not let that man go. There is no animal so wicked as that man. He stays near the tree in the shade, and having broken off the bark and the leaves he takes them away. At last he cuts down and takes the tree.”

From there he goes and asks it of the Cow. “O Cow, I saved this Crocodile from death. This Crocodile is now going to eat me. Do you think it right?”

The Cow says, “O Crocodile-cultivator, do not let that man go. That man is a wicked man. He takes our milk, and at last kills and eats us. Do not let him go.”

After that he asks it of the Jackal. The Jackal asks, “What is it about?”

He says to the Jackal, “O Jackal-artificer, without letting this Crocodile die, I saved it. Now it is going to eat me.”

The Jackal-artificer says, “I cannot give this decision, not having seen what is the meaning of it. You must show me the whole affair from the beginning.”

Then the man, placing the Crocodile on his shoulder, and having gone with it and put it in the house in which the Crocodile was at first, [and closed the entrance], and made the soil hard, the Jackal says, “Now then, don’t you be afraid. I am on your side.”

Then the man says, “Jackal-artificer, hear this case.”

“I am both the judge and the witness,” the Jackal said. “Now then, taking a cudgel beat thou him until he dies. I saw thy excellence and this one’s wickedness.”

Durayā. North-western Province.

This is one of the best-known of folk-tales. A Malay variant is given in Mr. W. Skeat’s Fables and Folk-Tales from an Eastern Forest, p. 20. A tiger, being released from a cage-trap by a man, seized him in order to eat him. When appealed to, the road and tree were against him. The Mouse-deer, which in Malaya fills the place of the clever animal in folk-tales, got the tiger to return to the cage, and called the neighbours to kill it.

The tiger story is given in Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 198 ff., and the appeal was made to a banyan tree, camel, bullock, eagle, and alligator [crocodile], which were against the man. The Jackal settled it in his favour.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 116—Tales of the Punjab, p. 107—the matter was referred to a pipal (or bō) tree, a road, and the Jackal, who induced the tiger to re-enter the trap, and left him there.

In Indian Fairy Tales (Stokes), p. 16, the matter was not referred to others, but the Jackal told the tiger a good way of eating the man, by getting inside a large bag and having him thrown in to it. When it was inside the bag, the Jackal, a dog who was present, and the man tied it up, and beat the tiger to death.

The Panchatantra (Dubois), as in several other instances, comes nearest to the Sinhalese story. A Brāhmaṇa carried a Crocodile in a sack from a stream to the Ganges, and was then seized by it. In reply to his appeal to the Crocodile’s virtue and gratitude, he was told, “The virtue and gratitude of our days is to devour those who nourish us and who do good to us.” Reference was made to a mango tree, an old cow (both of which agreed with the Crocodile), and a Jackal, who, stating that he wished to get to the bottom of the matter, induced the Crocodile to re-enter the sack, after which the Jackal broke his head with a stone.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 134, a boy on his way to fetch his bride, killed a mungus that was attacking a snake, which then turned on him, to eat him, but gave him eight days’ grace to get married. When he returned with his wife she remonstrated with the snake, and was referred to some trees. One had preserved a thief in its hollow interior, but he found sandalwood there, and cut it down; and now it had become a rule to do evil for good. For the future widow’s protection, the snake gave her magic powder capable of reducing to ashes whatever it fell on, so she applied it to the snake, and burnt it to dust.

The tale is found in West Africa also, in a form which is very close to the South Indian and Sinhalese one. In Contes Soudanais (C. Monteil), p. 53, a child found a tired Crocodile, and carried it back to water. The Crocodile asked if he knew how goodness was rewarded. “By evil,” the child said. The Crocodile was going to eat him, but referred the matter to an old horse and an old ass (both of which recommended it to do so), and lastly to a Hare, which refused to believe that the child could have carried it. When this was proved, and the Crocodile taken back, the Hare said to the child, “Doesn’t thy father eat Crocodile?” “Yes.” “And thy mother?” “Yes.” “Hast thou not an axe?” “I have one,” the child replied. “Then break the Crocodile’s head and eat it,” the Hare said. In many West African tales the Hare is the clever animal who outwits the others.

1 Terminalia glabra. ↑

No. 64

The Heron and the Crab

There is a great big mountain. On the mountain there is a rock-hole [containing water]. In it there are some small fishes. At all other places a Heron1 eats the small fishes. In this rock-hole the Heron cannot eat the small fishes; he goes along [in the air], above the rock cave.

On account of it, the Heron puts on a false appearance. “I am indeed an ascetic,” he said. “I do not kill living creatures,” he said.

Thereupon the small fishes came for a talk. After they came he said, “Being in this hole ye cannot go up and down,” he said. “Because it is so, I will take you and put you in a river possessing length and breadth,” he said.

After that, having taken them one by one he ate them. At the time when he was taking the Crab which remained over from them, the Crab took hold of the neck of the Heron. While on the way, when the Heron was preparing to kill the Crab, the Crab getting to know of it, cut the neck of the Heron with his claws and killed it.

Durayā. North-western Province.

The Pond Heron. (Variant.)

At the time of a great drought the water of a pool having nearly dried up, the fishes2 saw that they were coming near dying. A Pond Heron3 which saw it, having very speedily come flying, spoke to the fishes: “Friends, I will go and conduct you to a pool in which there is much water,” he said. They were pleased at it.

The Pond Heron holding one by his bill, and having gone and put it down at the pool in which there was water, again brought it near those that were in the pool at which the water had dried up, and let it go. The fish which he brought informed them that there was a pool in which there was water, in the way the Heron said. All the fishes that were in the dried-up pool became wishful to go.

Now then, the Pond Heron having taken them one by one, leaving aside the pool in which there was water, took them to a tree near it, and ate them. After not many days the fishes were finished; the Pond Heron ate all. Having eaten them, below the tree on which he put them there was a heap of bones to the extent of a tree in height.

Afterwards having seen that a Crab was in the dried-up pool, the Pond Heron spoke to it: “Friend, you also come to be conducted there,” he said.

The Crab also spoke to the Pond Heron: “Friend, my shell is very thin,” he said.

“I will take you carefully,” the Pond Heron said. After he had said it the Crab became wishful to go.

The Pond Heron took hold of his shell, and the Crab took hold of the neck of the Pond Heron with his two claws. Having taken hold of him the Pond Heron flew away. Having seen that, leaving the pool on this side, he was flying to the tree, the Crab spoke to him. “The pool is here,” he said.

“I am taking thee to eat,” the Pond Heron said.

At that time having seized the two claws the Pond Heron killed him.

Washerman. North-western Province.

The Pond Heron. (Variant.)

In a certain country a Pond Heron stayed, it is said. At the time while the Pond Heron was there, seeking small fishes in the tanks, a great general drought befel. On account of it all the tanks dried up. The Pond Heron ate all the small fishes that stayed in them.

Having eaten them, he remained hungry for two or three days, there being no more small fishes. Having been in that state, and having flown away to seek food, as he was going along he saw that a tank having dried up, small fishes were there, being unable to go elsewhere.

The Pond Heron having gone there, asked the small fishes, “What, friends, are you there for?”

Then the small fishes said, “Anē! Friend, the little water that there was for us having dried up, we are without water.”

After that, the Pond Heron said, “If so, friends, there is a good river for you. I will take you to it, and put you down there.”

The little fishes said, “It is good, friend. If so, take us and put us down there.”

The Pond Heron said, “If so, let one come [first, and see the river],” and holding it with his bill he took it to the river, and put it down.

That small fish going in the water all round the river came near the Pond Heron. Then the Pond Heron having said to the small fish, “Let us go, friend,” the small fish said, “Friend, I cannot go.”

The Pond Heron said, “No, friend, let us go. Can you remain, without going? Your other people are to come.”

Afterwards the small fish said “Hā.” So the Pond Heron, taking the small fish with his bill, came flying back. Having come to a great rough tree, and settled on a branch of the tree, he ate the small fish.

Again he went flying to the place where the small fishes were. The small fishes asked, “Friend, one of us went with you. Where is he?”

The Pond Heron replied, “Friends, he said he would not come. He stayed in the river.”

Then those small fishes said, “If so, go with us, and put us down in it.”

After that, the Pond Heron, taking one of them, settled on the tree at which he ate that small fish, and ate it. Again he came to the place where the other small fishes were. Then those small fishes said, “Friend, take us also, and put us in the river.”

The Pond Heron again having taken a small fish and settled on that very tree, ate it. Thus, in that way having taken the small fishes until they were finished, he ate them all.

Having finished the small fishes, a Crab was omitted outside. The Pond Heron came and asked the Crab, “What, friend, are you here alone for?”

The Crab said, “Anē! Friend, the small fishes of this tank went to the quarters where they went. I alone remain.”

Then the Pond Heron said, “Friend, shall I take you also to the river, and put you down in it?” The Crab said “Hā.”

Afterwards the Pond Heron, holding the Crab with his bill, took it and settled on the tree on which he ate the small fishes. While he was there the Crab asked, “What, friend, have you delayed here for?”

Then the Pond Heron said, “It is here that I ate also the few small fishes that stayed in the tank. It is here I shall eat you also.”

Afterwards the Crab, having stiffened his claws a little, seized the neck of the Pond Heron. Then the Pond Heron with his bill tightened his hold of the Crab. Thus, in that way holding each other, both of them died, and fell on the ground below the tree.

Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.

The Jātaka story No. 38 (vol. i, p. 96), about a Crane and a Crab, nearly agrees with the second of these tales, but the ending is like that of the first one, the Crab killing the Crane. It is also much more artificial and developed in the conversations.

It is possible that the story related by the Durayā may represent a very early form of the tale, or perhaps the original one. If the story were derived from the Jātaka tale, it is very improbable that in a country where ponds are more numerous than in any other, we should find the pool of the Jātaka, to which the fishes were to be taken, displaced in two of these by a river.

The story is given in Indian Fables (Ramaswami Raju), p. 88. A Crane pretended to carry the fish to a pond, and was killed by a Crab.

In Skeat’s Fables and Folk-Tales from an Eastern Forest, p. 18, the bird was a Pelican, which was killed by a Crab.

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), a Cormorant came to the fishes at a pool, and allayed their suspicions by putting on an appearance of piety and by alleging that he had become a religious devotee. He informed them that he foresaw a twelve years’ drought, in which the pools would dry up and they would perish, and he offered to transport them to a mountain pool fed by a perennial spring. They were eaten on a rock, and the Crab strangled the bird.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 31, the animals were a Crane and a Makara, which is said by the translator to generally mean a crocodile, though in early carvings in Ceylon and India it is a fabulous animal with two short legs and a tail usually curved upon its back. The bird frightened the fish by saying that a man was coming to catch them with a net, and he offered to convey them to a lake. When the Makara was taken to the rock at which the others were killed, he cut off the Crane’s head.

This story nearly agrees with that in the Hitōpadesa, in which a Crab killed the bird.

1 Kokkā, a word which also means Egret, and some other large wading birds. ↑

2 Lūlā (Ophiocephalus striatus). ↑

3 Kanakokā (Ardeola grayi). ↑

No. 65

The Jackal and the Brāhmaṇa

In a certain city a Jackal according to custom was eating the fowls, it is said. Now, as the Jackal was there eating the fowls, by degrees he finished all the fowls in that manner. There was still one fowl at the royal palace.

So this Jackal went to the royal palace to eat the fowl. After he had come there the Jackal tried to catch it, and while he was there striving to eat the fowl it became light. There being no means of going away because of the people, he sought a place in which to remain hidden. As he was seeking it, except that there was open ground and no jungle, when he looked there was only a clump of weeds as a hiding place.

While he was in it peeping out, a Brāhmaṇa comes near. This Jackal asked, “You Brāhmaṇa! Where art thou going?” he asked.

The Brāhmaṇa says, “I am going in search of a livelihood.”

The Jackal says, “I will give thee a means of subsistence; carry me here and there,” he said.

Then the Brāhmaṇa taking the Jackal slung him by his four legs. “Dost thou carry me by the legs to some place to give a livelihood to thee?” he said.

“If not, how shall I carry thee?” the Brāhmaṇa asked.

Then the Jackal says, “Having placed me in thy upper garment take me up and go,” he said. “Look here! Take me and go thou along the road which leads to this jungle,” he said. “Having taken me and gone on it there will be a clump of wild dates. Do thou put me down near the clump of wild dates,” he said.

So the Jackal came to the open ground in the bundle. Then the Jackal told this Brāhmaṇa, after he had placed the bundle on the ground, to stay looking in the direction of the sun. Having remained looking in the direction of the sun, he told him to look in the direction of the clump of wild dates, and to take the kahawaṇas (coins) which were placed in it. When he had looked in the direction of the clump of wild dates, the rays of the sun having entered his eyes a yellow colour went into everything, and he thought he saw some money in it.

So the Brāhmaṇa crept into the clump of wild dates and passed his hand through it, and looked through it. Then because there were no kahawaṇas, he came out into the open ground.

When he looked on the path there was no Jackal. Then the Brāhmaṇa said, “There is neither the journey that I came for, nor the kahawaṇas. Aḍā! Aḍā!” So he went away.

Durayā. North-western Province.

In this story we find one of the lowest castes of the Chaṇḍālas making fun of the highest caste of all, a mild revenge for their treatment by the latter. As part of the joke, the Jackal is represented as addressing the Brāhmaṇa in the manner in which the latter would have spoken to a Durayā, and as being carried about by him, thus turning the tables completely, the chief duty of the Durayās being carrying loads for others.

In the Jātaka story No. 113 (vol. i, p. 255) a Jackal having overslept himself in some bushes in Benares, concealed himself until a Brāhmaṇa came near. By promising him two hundred gold pieces he induced the man to carry him concealed under his robe until they reached the cremation ground. There he told him to dig up a tree in order to get the treasure, and then ran off while the man was occupied with the work.

No. 66

The Cat who guarded the Precepts

A Cat having seen that a sun-dried fish was in a bag of rice, at the time when he was going to it to eat it, a rosary [hanging there] fell on his neck.

After it had fallen, as he was going away with it on his neck a Jungle-hen met him, and ran off. The Cat then says, “I am guarding (that is, keeping) the Precepts (of Buddha, sil rakinawā). Tummal Kittī,1 come here and go with me.”

While he was taking her with him they met with a Ground Cuckoo. He called this one: “ ‘Bug-bug’-singing Kāccalē,2 I am guarding the Precepts. Come here and go with me.”

As they were going they met with a Hare. He called him also: “Tokkā3 the Devil-dancer, come here and go with me. I am guarding the Precepts.”

Having gone to a rock cave [as a pansala or monk’s residence], while they were there the Cat said, “Tokkā the Devil-dancer, Tummal Kittī having scratched [the ground] in the pansala has defiled it. I must kill this one,” he said.

When the Hare said, “It is good,” he killed her.

After the Cat had said, “It is not a fault to eat a dead one, is it?” when the Hare replied, “No, there is not any fault in it,” he ate her.

Afterwards the Cat said, “Tokkā the Devil-dancer, this ‘Bug-bug’-singing Kāccalē has been drinking arrack (palm spirit) until his eyes have become red.” When he said, “I must kill this one,” he killed it. Then saying, “There is no fault in eating a dead one,” he ate it.

Then he said, “Tokkā the Devil-dancer, thou having dropped dung in the pansala art defiling it.” When he said, “I must kill thee,” the Hare said, “Yes, killing me is virtuous and proper. I must first perform a great gallop4 and a little gallop, two gallops.5 After that there will be no fault if you kill me,” he said.

“Yes, perform them,” the Cat said.

Then the Hare having run round [the cave], “There! The small gallop,” he said. Again having gone running round, and [then] having jumped over the Cat’s head, while he was running away he said, “There! The great gallop,” and ran off.

Durayā. North-western Province.

How the Cat became an Upāsakā.6 (Variant.)

At a certain time, at the house of a Gamarāla, milk having been taken and placed on the shelf by him [to curdle], the Gamarāla went to the chena.

There is a Cat at the house. The Cat having looked [to see] when the Gamarāla was not there, went to the shelf to eat the curds by stealth. Having gone there and eaten them by stealth, as he was coming away the Gamarāla came home from the chena, and the Cat, becoming afraid, sprang down.

The Gamarāla’s rosary was hanging on the shelf. As the Cat deceitfully was springing down, the rosary fell on the Cat’s neck. Then while the rosary was on its neck it goes away. Why? Should the Gamarāla get to know about its eating the curds he would thrash it inordinately.

Well then, as it was going it met with a Rat. The Rat [seeing the rosary] asked the Cat, “Upāsakarāla,7 where are you going?”

“I am going to guard the Precepts,” he said. “You also come and go along with me,” he said.

At the time when the two were going they met with the Squirrel called the Three-lined Chief.8 “Upāsakarāla, where are you going?” he asked.

“We are going to guard the Precepts. You also come and go with us,” he said. The Squirrel having said, “Hā. I will come,” the three went along [together].

As they were going they met with the Ground Cuckoo called Bum-bum the Tom-tom Beater. “Where, Upāsakarāla, are you going?” he asked.

“We are going to guard the Precepts. You also come,” he said.

The Ground Cuckoo having said, “Hā. If so, I also will come,” the four went together.

At the time when they were going they met with the Hare called Tokkan the Devil-dancer. “Upāsakarālas, where are you going?” he asked.

“We are going to guard the Precepts. You also come and go with us,” he said.

Well then, the five went to the jungle. Having gone on and on, there was a rock cave. Having said, “Look there! Our pansala,” he told the people to creep inside. “In order that I may go and rehearse the Precepts, let no single other person besides cause any disturbance,” he said.

Then the Rat, being hungry during the night, was wriggling about. So the Upāsakā Cat said, “Aḍē! While Bum-bum the Tom-tom Beater stays there quietly, while the Three-lined Chief stays there [quietly], while Tokkan the Devil-dancer stays there [quietly], this one does not take [to heart] the things that were said. Being on guard over it I must put it out of the way.”9 Saying this, he ate the Rat.

At the daybreak watch the Ground Cuckoo crowed [as usual]. After it had crowed, the Cat said, “While the Three-lined Chief stays there [quietly], while Tokkan the Devil-dancer stays there [quietly], because this one is making noises, and as I am on guard over it, I must put it out of the way,” and seizing that one also he ate it.

As it became light in the morning, at the time when the Squirrels were singing, “Tin̥-Tin̥,” the Three-lined Chief also sang, “Tin̥-Tin̥.”

Then the Cat said, “While Tokkan the Devil-dancer stays there quietly, and I stay here [quietly], this one having said it through arrogance, and as I am on guard over it, I must put it out of the way.” Having said this he ate that one also.

Now then, the Hare called Tokkan the Devil-dancer ascertaining that he was eating it, began to cry in the morning.

“What, Tokkan the Devil-dancer, are you crying for?” he asked.

“I know thoroughly how to dance dances. Because there is no one to look at the dances I was sorry,” he said.

After he had said, “If so, dance a little for me to look at it,” the Hare said, “Upāsakarāla, open the doorway so that a little light may fall into the cave. Having seen my dance you must eat me also,” the Hare said.

When he moved from the door, out of the way, for a little light to fall inside, the Hare, having jumped to the four corners of the cave, springing over the head of the Cat went away.

P. B. Madahapola, Raṭēmahatmayā. North-western Province.

How the Cat performed Bell Worship. (Variant.)

In a certain country a man reared a Cat, it is said. The Cat every day goes to eat by stealth in the villages. On account of it the man one day caught the Cat, and having tied a hawk’s bell10 on its neck, let it go.

After that, the Cat, without going that day into the village, went away along the path. As it was going along it met with a Rat. The Rat asked the Cat, “Where, O Cat-Lord, are you going?”

Then the Cat said, “I am going for Bell Worship.”

The Rat asked, “Shall I come too?”

The Cat said, “It is good.”

The Rat also having set off, as the two were going away they met with a Squirrel. The Squirrel asked the Cat, “Where, O Cat-Lord, are you going?”

Then the Cat said, “I am going for Bell Worship.”

The Squirrel asked, “Shall I come too?”

After that, the Cat said, “It is good.”

Now then, the Squirrel having set off, as the three were going away they met with a Jungle-cock. The Jungle-cock asked the Cat, “Where, O Cat-Lord, are you going?”

Then the Cat said, “I am going for Bell Worship.”

The Jungle-cock said, “I shall come too.”

To that the Cat said, “It is good.”

The Jungle-cock having set off, the four persons went to a great rock cave in the jungle. Having made those three remain in the direction of the corner, the Cat stayed at the doorway.

After being there [a short time], the Cat first of all said to the Rat, “O Rat,11 I am hungry.”

Then the Rat said, “Let it be according to the wish of the Cat-Lord.” After that, the Cat, seizing the Rat, ate it.

In a little more time the Cat said to the Squirrel, “O Squirrel,12 I am hungry.”

At that time the Squirrel also said, “Let it be according to the wish of the Cat-Lord.”

So the Cat having seized the Squirrel also, ate it.

In a little more time the Cat said to the Jungle-cock, “O Jungle-cock,13 I am hungry.”

At that time the Jungle-cock said falsely, “Let it be according to the wish of the Cat-Lord.”

Afterwards, when the Cat was approaching very near the Jungle-cock, having sprung at the Cat’s face and with his spurs having plucked out both his eyes, the Jungle-cock flew away. The Cat there and then died.

Cultivating Caste. North-western Province.

The Precepts of Buddha to which reference is made in the first two stories, are the Aṭa-sil, or Eight Precepts, the keeping of which by lay devotees, called Upāsakās, is a necessary obligation. The first one prohibits the taking of life. The others are against theft, immorality, lying, drinking intoxicants, eating after noon, attendance at theatrical amusements, dancing, singing, etc., and personal adornment.

In the Jātaka story No. 128 (vol. i, p. 281) there is an account of a Jackal who pretended to lead a saintly life, standing on one leg because the earth could not support his weight if he stood on all four, he said. He ate the rats which came to pay their respects to him, always seizing the hindmost as they left. The King of the Rats waited till the others had gone, and then sprang at the Jackal’s throat and killed him. The next story, No. 129, is similar.

In No. 384 (vol. iii, p. 170) a Crow pretended to be a saint, and also stood on one leg for the same reason, saying that it fed only on wind. When the other birds left it in charge of their young ones it ate them. At last it was killed by the other birds.

In the Mahā Bhārata (Udyoga Parva) a Cat which pretended to be an ascetic killed the mice that placed themselves under its protection.

In the Hitōpadesa a Cat which gained the confidence of the birds by its pious demeanour ate their young ones.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 67, a pious Cat killed a hare and a bird.

1 Triple-wreathed famous one. ↑

2 Probably, “He that moves about in the jungle,” derived from the Tamil words kāḍu, jungle—in compounds, kāṭṭu—and salam, Skt. cala, moving, unsteady. The bird is Centrococcyx rufipennis, which utters a booming call, and has red eyes. ↑

3 Tamil, tonku, to move with leaps, Skt. √twang, to leap, gallop + kā, doer. ↑

4 Maha tokkama. ↑

5 Tokkam dekak. ↑

6 Lay devotee. ↑

7 Rāla is an honorific termination, nearly equivalent to our Mr. ↑

8 Tun-iri Mudiyansē, (Sciurus tri-striatus), a small squirrel with three yellow dorsal lines. ↑

9 Lit. “Having guarded, I must place it.” ↑

10 Mini-geḍi. ↑

11 Mīyanē. ↑

12 Lēnanē. ↑

13 Wali-kukuḷanē. ↑

No. 67

The Lizard and the Leopard

At a village there are a Leopard and a Lizard.1 The Lizard and Leopard cut a chena, it is said. Afterwards both having quarrelled they divided the chena between them. In the part which the Lizard got he planted Kaekiri creepers, which became large; in the part which the Leopard got the Kaekiri died, and he abandoned it.

Then the Leopard ate the Kaekiri fruit in the Lizard’s chena, and after eating rubbed himself on his hams over the fruits that were on the ground. So the Lizard gave some Kaekiri fruits to the smith, and having got a small knife made took it away. After getting it made, the Lizard ran it through some plucked Kaekiri fruits [and left it there].

Afterwards the Leopard came to eat Kaekiri. Having eaten, he rubbed himself on the plucked Kaekiri fruits. Then the knife pierced him. Over this matter the Leopard and Lizard quarrelled. Afterwards the Leopard, having eaten cattle flesh, became strong again.

One day the Leopard told the Lizard that the Gamarāla had a chena. The Lizard said, “Aḍē! Where is it? Let me look at it.” Having gone with him to it, the Leopard shows him the fruits and says, “Aḍē! Lizard, eat thou there. Lizard, eat thou here.” The Gamarāla having heard it and having gone home, began to laugh. The Gama-Mahagē (his wife) asked, “What are you laughing at?” The Gamarāla said, “A Leopard sitting in the chena was saying and saying to a Lizard, ‘Eat thou there, Lizard. Eat thou here, Lizard.’ ”

Afterwards, when the Lizard was in the chena the Leopard goes to the house of the Gamarāla and says, “Gamarāla, see! The Lizard is eating thy chena.” Then the Gamarāla scolded him and said, “I heard thee telling the Lizard, ‘Eat thou there, Lizard. Eat thou here, Lizard.’ ”

Then the Leopard went to the Lizard, and said, “Friend, take thou my piece of chena, and give me thy piece of chena.” Because the Lizard was afraid he said, “It is good,” and they exchanged chenas. The Lizard planted the abandoned piece in a thorough manner. The Leopard ate the fruits in the part which he got, until they were finished.

After that, the Leopard went to the Lizard again, and said, “Friend, let us exchange chenas again.” The Lizard felt anger which he could not bear, but because he was afraid he said again, “It is good,” to that also.

Afterwards, the Lizard went to a man, and asked him to tell him a way of succeeding, so as to fight the Leopard. The man said, “When he asks you again, say you will not. The Leopard will come and quarrel with you. Then say, ‘We cannot fight in that manner. You go, and after asking your mother about a means of success, return. I will go, and after asking my mother about a means of success, will return.’ Having said it and come away, and having rolled in the mud and dried it, and again rolled in the mud and dried it, by rolling in the mud and doing thus you will become big. After that go to fight. The Leopard’s claws will not enter your body.” All this the man told the Lizard.

Afterwards, one day the Leopard said, “Let us exchange chenas.” The Lizard told him as the man said. When the Leopard went to his mother she told him to rub coconut oil over his body.

The Lizard having gone to a mud hole, jumps into it, and climbs onto a post to dry the mud. Again it jumps into the mud and climbs onto the post. Thus, having acted in that manner he caused much mud to be smeared on his body.

After that, having met each other, the Leopard and Lizard quarrelled again, and struck each other on the face. Then the Lizard springs on the Leopard’s back and scratches his flesh. The Leopard jumps about, but only scratches mud off the Lizard.

Having fought in that way, the Leopard, becoming afraid, went away. The Lizard went and washed off the mud. The Leopard having gone and crawled under the corn store at a house, while sitting there says, “Bite thou me here, too, Lizard. Bite thou me here, too, Lizard.”2 While he was there saying it he saw a boy [near him]. Then the Leopard says, “Aḍē! Do not tell any one, or I will kill thee.” Because of it, the boy being afraid did not tell any one.

Afterwards the Leopard, thinking, “The boy will tell it,” came while the boy3 was asleep on the bed [in the veranda], and having crept under the bed, lifted it on his back and went off with it, in order to eat him. When the boy awoke and saw that the Leopard was going along carrying him, he caught hold of a branch and hung by it. After the Leopard, having gone a long distance, looked back the boy was not there.

Then the Leopard came running back to seek him. Having seen that the boy was on a branch, the Leopard asked, “Art thou descending to the ground, boy? I shall eat thee.”

The boy said, “Aḍē! Bola, art thou saying Baṇa?4 I have no means of stretching out my hands to descend,” he said.

“What is in thy hands?” he asked.

“In this hand I have small Lizard’s eggs; in this other hand I have large Lizard’s eggs,” he said. “A sort of Lizards as big as Talipat trunks and Coconut trunks will be coming.”

Then the Leopard, saying, “Stay thou there, boy, until I have run a little far,” bounded off and ran away.

Durayā. North-western Province.

In The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 117 ff., the latter part of this tale was given by Miss J. A. Goonetilleke, containing the fight of the animals and the incidents that follow it. The animals were a “Bloodsucker” Lizard and a “tiger,” a word often used in Ceylon where “leopard” is intended to be understood. There are no tigers in Ceylon.

An incident like that in the chena, in which the knife wounded the Leopard, is found in Old Deccan Days (Frere), p. 177. In it a barber tied a knife to a cucumber, and it wounded a Jackal who began to eat the fruit.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 240—Tales of the Punjab, p. 227—a woman who was being carried off by robbers while on her bed, seized a branch and climbed up a tree when they paused under a Banyan tree. The same incident is given in The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 40.

With regard to the fear of the lizard which the leopard is described in the Sinhalese story as exhibiting, I am able to state that it is not much exaggerated. Many years ago, on returning to my bungalow one day, at a tank in a wild part of the jungle, I found that a lizard of the species mentioned in this tale—a Kaṭussā or “Bloodsucker”—had entered my bedroom. I brought up a tame, full-grown leopard which I then had, and introduced it to the lizard, as a new experience for it. At first it was inclined to play with the lizard, but on pretending to seize it with its mouth it felt the spikes on the lizard’s back, and immediately showed the greatest fear of it. The attempts which it made to escape when the lizard came in its direction were quite ridiculous, and it became so terrified that I was obliged to take it away to the security of its den, a large packing-case under a tree to which it was tethered, leaving the lizard the complete master of the situation, though probably nearly equally alarmed.

1 Kaṭussā (Calotes sp.), a small lizard with a long tail, and spikes on the back, commonly called “Bloodsucker” in Ceylon. ↑

2 Perhaps this means that the Leopard found some places where the Lizard had not yet bitten him. ↑

3 A variant says it was the Gamarāla. ↑

4 “Art thou reciting the Buddhist Scriptures?” Used colloquially with the meaning, “What nonsense you are talking.” ↑

No. 68

The Lion and the Jackal

While an old Lion was in a rock cave, after a Jackal went there the Lion says, “Anē! Bola, I have been thinking of eating fresh pig’s flesh.” When he said, “When I ran and sprang at some Boars now I couldn’t catch one,” the Jackal said, “If it come near this cave can’t you seize it, Sir?”

“In that way I can still do it. But will a Boar come near me? The thing you are saying would be a wonder.”

The Jackal says, “Somehow or other I will bring a Boar.”

The jackal having walked about in the jungle, and having seen a Boar, says, “How many days have I now been seeking thee!” After he had said, “Why should I be of assistance to thee?” the Boar says, “Uwah! Why is there so much need of it by me? Thou wilt not be of any assistance to me.”

The Jackal said, “Our King is there, having now become old. Is it true or not, Cultivator, that as he told me to seek a person to give the sovereignty to, I have been going about seeking thee? If not, am I telling lies? Come along and go there with me.”

Having gone near the Lion, taking him with him, the Jackal says, “Now then, having gone near the King and made obeisance, take the sovereignty.” As the Boar was approaching in great fear the Lion sprang at him. After he had seized him, the Boar, pushing off his paws, bounded away.

Then the Jackal says, “Did a thunderbolt strike you, Sir? Why didn’t you hold the Boar?”

The Lion says, “Anē! Bola, did I fail? Are you saying it falsely? When will such a Boar come near me again?”

As the King was sorrowful the Jackal says, “Are you mad, Sir, that you doubt my powers? I will bring that one again now.”

The Jackal having gone on the path on which the Boar went, and having seen the Boar says, “What is the matter with thee? Aḍē! Did a thunderbolt strike thee, that thou camest bounding away?”

The Boar says, “What did I come away for? Truly, I was running away. If I had stayed there it would be seen why!”

Then the Jackal says, “If thou hadst stopped he wouldn’t eat thee. Art thou a person afraid to have the sovereignty bestowed on thee? What was it? Except that he merely looked at thee he did not attempt to eat thee, Cultivator. If he had done so wouldst thou be thus?1 No. Did he attempt the crime of eating thee?” [At last the Boar agreed to return to the Lion.]

Afterwards, when they went near the Lion together, the Jackal says, “Friend, go without fear, and tell him to hand over the sovereignty.” In that manner the Boar went near the Lion.

Having sprung with great force on the neck of the Boar, and broken the neck, and broken the bone of the head, as he was going to eat the brains the Jackal said, “Don’t.”

When the Lion asked, “Why not, Bola?” the Jackal says, “Though you, Sir, exercise the sovereignty your wisdom is less than ours. Do kings eat and drink in that manner?” After he had said, “Blood has fallen on your body, Sir. Having gone to the river, bathing and drying your body there, and having returned, be good enough to eat sitting down,” the Lion went to bathe.

After he had caused him to go, the Jackal ate the Boar’s brains, and remained there silently. The Lion having come back, and taken the skull in his paws, sought for the brain in order to eat it. When he said, “There is no brain,” the Jackal said, “Sir, don’t you know so much? Having once escaped death and gone away, would he again be caught for killing if he had had brains? That one had no brains,” he said.

Durayā. North-western Province.

How the Jackal Cheated the Lion. (Variant.)

In a more ancient time than this, a Lion King dwelt in a certain forest. A Jackal who lived in that very forest, establishing a friendly state with the Lion began to reside near him. Should I state the mutual trust of them both [it was this]—the Lion knew that although by the aid of the Jackal’s means of success (that is, advice and stratagems), the Lion was seizing and eating the flesh of other animals, he did not get from the Jackal any other assistance that ought to be given.

When a little time had passed in that way, it was evident that the Jackal’s body was becoming very fat. The Lion saw it, and assuming a false illness remained lying down at the time when the Jackal came. Having seen it, the Jackal made obeisance to the Lion, and asked, “What, O Lord, are you lying down for? Has some ailment befallen Your Majesty? Are you not going to hunt to-day?”

Then the Lion said, “My friend Jackal, a headache having afflicted me to-day, I am in a very serious state. From this time onward, having hunted, and eaten only the small amount of the brains of the animals, I will give thee all the rest of the flesh. Do thou subsist on it. For the reason that I am not well enough to go to hunt this day, thou and I, both of us, must remain hungry. Art thou unable to go hunting [alone] this day only?” he asked.

Thereupon the Jackal said to the Lion, “O Lord, is that which should be done a difficult thing? Your Majesty will stay thus. I will go, and will return calling some animal or other [to come] near Your Majesty.” Having instructed him to spring up and seize it as soon as it comes, the Jackal went to seek animals.

While going for this purpose [it saw that] a Goat was tied in a field. Having told many falsehoods to the Goat it returned, inviting it [to come] near the Lion. Then the Lion sprang to seize it. Thereupon the Goat, having become afraid, ran away. The Jackal went [after it], and causing it to turn back again, returned [with it].

Then the Lion, having killed the Goat, went to bathe in order [to purify himself, so as] to eat the small quantity of brains. In the meantime the Jackal removed the brains, and having eaten them replaced the skin.

The Lion having returned after bathing, when he came to split open the skin in order to eat the brains, saw that there were no brains. Having seen it, the Lion asked the Jackal, “Where are my brains?”

Thereupon the Jackal said, “O Lord, if this one had any brains would it have come twice near Your Majesty? It came twice because it had no brains.” So saying the Jackal ate the small quantity of flesh also.

Western Province.

Improbable as the notion appears that an animal, other than insects or fishes, would return into the same danger shortly after escaping from it, one instance of this has come under the observation of myself and a friend, with whose approval I insert this account of the occurrence.

As Mr. H. E. H. Hayes, late of the Public Works Department, Ceylon, was walking one day near the water, at the embankment of the Vilānkuḷam tank in the Northern Province, a crocodile made its appearance suddenly in the water near him, apparently attracted by his young terrier. He fired a charge of snipe shot at its head, and it disappeared.

He and I went to the spot on the following day. I remained on the look-out on the top of the bank, while he was partly hidden behind a tree nearer the water. There he tweaked or pinched the dog so as to make it yelp a little. Then we observed a crocodile’s head raised among some weeds far out in the tank. Not many minutes afterwards the crocodile’s head appeared out of the water only a few feet away from the dog. Mr. Hayes at once shot it with his rifle; and when he recovered it found the shot marks of the previous day in its head.

In this case it might almost be said with truth that the animal had no brains, since the brain of an ordinary tank crocodile is only about the size of a large walnut. When I split the skull of one, the men who were with me could not find the brain cavity, and thought it had no brains.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 268, a Tiger with a broken leg takes the place of the Lion, and a Jackal brought an Ass to eat what he represented to be the superior grass at the place. After the Tiger had killed it and eaten part of it, he crawled to a spring for a drink, and in his absence the Jackal ate the heart (which the Tiger wanted itself), and gave the same explanation of its absence. The author added a note, “the heart among the Punjābīs being the seat of reason.”

In the Panchatantra (Dubois), an Ass was brought to a sick Lion King in order that he might eat the heart and ears, as a remedy for his illness. When he was brought back the second time by a Jackal, the Lion killed him and ate the heart and ears.

In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), p. 85, there is a similar story, except that after killing the Ass the Lion went to bathe, and the Jackal then ate the heart and ears. He told the Lion that “the creature never possessed ears or a heart, otherwise how could he have returned when he had once escaped?”

1 Ehema nan̥ ehemada, “If so (would it be) so?” ↑

STORIES OF THE ROḌIYĀS

No. 69

The Roll of Cotton

In a certain country there is a city. In the city there are two persons, an elder sister and a younger sister. There are two female children of the two persons.

The younger sister took to spinning cotton. At that time her daughter also came there. A roll of cotton was driven away in the wind out of the daughter’s hand. Then her mother beat the daughter. “Wherever it should go do thou bring back the roll of cotton,” she said. This girl, weeping and weeping, follows the roll of cotton.

She came to a betel plot which a lame man had made. To this girl who was following the roll of cotton the lame man says, “Anē! Pour water on this betel plot and go, please,” he said. Afterwards, having poured it she went on. “The betel has been plucked,” she said.

As she was going [she came to a place where] a dog was tied. “Anē! Younger sister, tie me in the shade and go, please,” he said. “While you are going home to-morrow there will be a haunch of a bull tied up [for you],” he said. So having tied the dog in the shade she went on.

Then the roll of cotton having gone on, stopped in a cane-brake. At that time a King came there. That girl was tying hooked sticks in order to get the roll of cotton. So the King said, “I will bring the roll of cotton. Go thou to the royal palace and cook,” he said.

The girl went and cooked. The King got the roll of cotton. The King having gone, gave the roll of cotton to the girl.

After he had given it, both of them ate the cooked rice. After they had eaten it the King called the girl to the house. Having called her, he said to the girl, “Please take from these boxes any box thou wantest,” he said.

Then the girl, having looked at them, took a small sandalwood box.

Afterwards the King said, “This will provide a livelihood for the persons who are rearing thee, also,” he said.

Taking the box, she came near the dog that was tied up. There the dog had tied up the haunch of a bull. Having taken the haunch of the bull from there, she came near the lame man. Having got betel from there, she came near her mother at the girl’s house.

Having come there she opened that box. Having opened it, after she looked [in it she found that] the box was full of silver and gold; the box had been filled. Then that other elder sister and the elder sister’s daughter saw these articles [and heard how the girl obtained them].

On the following day that mother and daughter took to spinning cotton. Afterwards, from the mother’s hand by force a roll of cotton was carried away [by the wind]; having been carried away she beat the daughter, and told her to bring the roll of cotton. So this daughter, weeping and weeping, goes after the roll of cotton.

She goes near the lame man who is making the betel plot. Then the lame man said, “Please pour water [on these plants].” Having said, “I will not,” she went by the place where the dog was. The dog said, “Anē! Elder sister, tie me in the shade and go. As you go [home] I will place a haunch of a bull for you,” he said. Having said she would not she went away.

The roll of cotton having gone into the very cane-brake, that also stopped there. Then this girl was tying hooked sticks in order to get the roll of cotton. Then the King [came there, and] said, “I will bring the roll of cotton. Go thou to the palace and cook,” he said.

The girl having gone, without any deficiency cooked rice and vegetables. The King having taken the roll of cotton [there], both of them went to eat the rice. Having gone and looked [at it in order] to eat it, they could not eat it; it had the taste of water.

Having called the girl he said, “From these please take for thyself any box thou wantest,” he said.

This one having searched and searched, took in her arms a great chest. Afterwards the King said, “Go thou; please open the box at the place where thy mother and father are,” he said.

The girl, after it became night, having summoned every one,1 opened the box. All [the things] in the box were cobras and polangās. The cobras and polangās having bitten the people of the village, destroyed them. They made all the village desolate.

Roḍiyā. North-western Province.

In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 178—Folk Tales of the Punjab, p. 167—there is an account of the good luck of a kind girl and the bad luck of an unkind girl, but the incidents are unlike those of the Sinhalese story.

1 Sēramanṭama. ↑

No. 70

The Jackal and the Leopard

In a certain country there is a Gamarāla. There is a goat-fold of the Gamarāla’s. At that goat-fold one by one the goats are disappearing during the night. Afterwards the Gamarāla having gone there [to watch for the thief] went to sleep. In the hand of the Gamarāla there was a lump of salt chillies.

Afterwards the Leopard came at night. The Leopard lifting each goat looks at it. Having looked, afterwards having lifted up the Gamarāla [and found he was the heaviest] he took him. Carrying him away he took him to his rock cave. Then the Gamarāla quickly [entered it, and] shut the door. The Leopard then was trying to go into the cave. Having heard the uproar the Jackal Paṇḍitayā came. “What is this, Sapu-flowers’ Minister, you are doing?” he asked.

“In other years I brought goats [and ate them without trouble]. That one having entered the cave has shut the door.”

“You, Sir, having put your tail inside the cave be pleased to wave it,” he said; the Jackal Paṇḍitayā said. “Do not catch hold of the tail,” he said [to the Gamarāla]. “Otherwise, having put thy foot against the wall, and having folded it two-fold or three-fold, hold it [fast],” he said. “Do not jam a little of the golden salt chillies under the tail of the Sapu-flowers’ Minister,” he said.

Then the Gamarāla having seized the tail jammed in the salt chillies. Afterwards the Sapu-flowers’ Minister pulling out his tail bounded away. Having bounded off and gone, he sat down on a flat rock. Afterwards the Jackal Paṇḍitayā asked, “What are you on that flat rock for?”

“I am looking if this country is fruitful or unfruitful,”1 he said.

Again, the Gamarāla, saving his life, went to the village. The Jackal Paṇḍitayā went to the Gamarāla. “What is it, Gamarāla? Couldn’t you kill him?”

“While he was outside how could I, sitting in the cave, kill him?”

“I will tell you a trick for that one,” the Jackal Paṇḍitayā said. Afterwards he said, “You must make a trap for that one,” he said.

“Where shall I make the trap?” [the Gamarāla] asked.

“At the fence of the goat-fold,” he said.

Afterwards he made the trap. The Sapu-flowers’ Minister was noosed in the trap. On the following day the Gamarāla came to look. Having come before the Gamarāla, also the Jackal Paṇḍitayā came near the trap. “Gamarāla, to-day indeed he has been hanged,” he said.

Etana metana tō gasannē

Kambul baeṭa dīpannē

Kanda sewanaṭa aedapannē

“Strike thou there and here a blow;

Knocks upon the cheeks bestow;

Drag him to the hill’s shadow,”

the Jackal Paṇḍitayā said.

Hampottayi tō gannē

Mālu tika maṭa dennē.

Then he said—

“’Tis the skin will be for thee,

The little flesh thou’lt give to me.”

Roḍiyā. North-western Province.

Part of this story was given in The Orientalist, vol. iv, p. 30. A Jackal that had followed a Leopard which was trying to get at a man who had taken refuge in a corn store, advised it to insert its tail through a gap in the doorway, and wave it about. When it did so, the Jackal said in the Peraelibāsa,2 which the Leopard did not understand, Kaṭu anuwē potun deṭak, which when transposed becomes aṭu kanuwē detun poṭak, “Two or three twists round the pillar of the corn store.” The man acted as advised, and held the tail fast. When some men came up they killed the Leopard.

1 That is, as we should say, “I have come here to enjoy a view of the scenery!” ↑

2 There appears to be some doubt regarding the spelling of this compound word. I give it as I have heard it. Except in the last letter I have followed that of the late Mr. W. Goonetilleke, the learned Editor of The Orientalist, who in vol. i, p. 8, of that journal said of it: “Pereḷibāse therefore means ‘the language of transposition,’ or ‘the transposed language.’ ” In Clough’s Dictionary the second word is spelt bāsa. In Mr. A. M. Guṇasēkara’s excellent Sinhalese Grammar the spelling is peraḷibāsa in the Index, and peraḷi bāsē (or bhāshāwa) in the paragraph dealing with it. Professor E. Müller-Hess has drawn my attention to the form pereḷi on one of the inscribed tablets at Mihintale. ↑

No. 71

How the Boars killed the Rākshasa

There is a certain city. There is a very great jungle belonging to the city. A wild Sow stays in the jungle. The Sow having come to a house on the high ground, and pains having come to her, gave birth to a little Boar. The men of the house having seen the little Boar, catching it and amply giving it to eat, reared it.

[After he had grown up], one day that village Boar says, “I cannot remain thus.” Having thought, “I must go to a great jungle,” he went away.

After that, having gone to the jungle, while he was there a Rākshasa having come to that jungle was eating the large Boars. Afterwards the village Boar said [to the others], “I will tell you a good trick,” he said.

“What is it?” the other large Boars in the jungle asked.

“Please dig two very large wells. At the bottom make the two wells one,”1 he said. “The large village Boar will be [on the ground] in the middle of the two wells,” he said. He told the other large Boars to be round the well.

The Rākshasa every day comes to a rock. The large village Boar asks the other large Boars, “This Rākshasa having come, what will you do as he comes?”

The other Boars say, “This Rākshasa having come makes grimaces at us.”

“Then ye also make grimaces,” he said.

“Again, he inflates his sides at us.”

“Do ye also inflate your sides,” he said.

“He makes a very great roar.”

“Do ye also at that time roar all together,” he said.

On the following day the Rākshasa having come, and having looked in the direction of the Boars, made grimaces, inflated his sides, and made a very great roar. [The Boars did the same.]

Then the Rākshasa thought, “To-day these Boars will eat me.” Thinking this he went near the Lion.

Afterwards the Lion scolded him. “Anē! You also having gone, and having been unable [to do anything], have you come back?”

“What am I to do? All that I do the Boars are doing.”

Afterwards the Rākshasa again came to the place where the Boars were. After that, the village great Boar says to the other Boars, “To-day the Rākshasa is coming to eat us indeed. What shall we do?” he said to the great Boars. “[This is what we will do.] The Rākshasa having come, when he springs at the great Boars I will jump into the well. Having jumped in, I will come to the ground by the tunnel [and the other well],” he said. “Before I ascend you eat the Rākshasa,” he said.

In that way the Rākshasa came. Having come, as he was springing [at the Boar] the Boar jumped into the well. Then the Rākshasa having jumped [in after him] they bit him and ate him up.

Afterwards the great village Boar asked the other Boars, “Who else is there to eat your flesh?”

Then, “Still there is a Lion King,” they said. Saying, “Aḍā! Seeking him there, let us all go,” they all went.

The Lion King as the Boars were coming climbed up a tree. Then the Boars at once having broken the roots of the tree, felled the tree to the ground. The Lion ran away.

Then the Boars, saying, “Seize him, seize him!” having gone chasing him, killed the Lion.

Roḍiyā. North-western Province.

This tale is given in the Jātaka story No. 492 (vol. iv, p. 217). A Boar reared by a carpenter joined the wild ones, and taught them how to kill a Tiger that devoured them, by means of two pits. The tunnel connecting them is omitted. The Boar did not jump into the pit; ‘only the Tiger fell into one of the pits when he sprang at the Boar. After killing the Tiger they proceeded to kill a sham ascetic who was his abettor, in the same manner as in the Sinhalese story.

Although the Roḍiyās are not often present at the services at the Buddhist temples, they go to them occasionally, not, however, being permitted to enter the temple enclosure, but standing outside it. There they can hear the reading of the sacred books (baṇa), and perhaps in this manner they have learnt the story of the Boars. I have not met with it as a folk-tale elsewhere. The reference to the tunnel connecting the two pits shows that it has independent features. This tunnel alone explains the excavation of the two pits, one to jump into and the other to escape by.

1 That is, unite them by a tunnel. ↑

No. 72

The Grateful Jackal

In a certain village there was a boy who looked after cattle. One day, in the morning having taken the cattle [to graze], as they were going to water, that boy, when a python seizing a Jackal was going to eat it, went and beat the python, saying, “Anē! This python is going to eat the Jackal, isn’t it?”

Then the python having let the Jackal go seized the boy. So the boy cried out, “Ānḍā! Ānḍā! O my father! The python has seized me!” he cried.

Then the Jackal having come running, when he looked [saw that] the python had caught the boy, and thinking “Aḍā! Because of me this one seized the boy,” the Jackal looking and looking backwards, ran off [to fetch assistance]. After he had looked [to see] if there was any one, there was no one. The Jackal heard several people in the distance. The Jackal went running there. When he was going near the men, the men said, “A mad Jackal has come,” they said.

Then again the Jackal came running to the place where the python was. Again he came running to the place where the men were. Having come [there], after the Jackal looked [he saw that] the clothes of men who were bathing were under a tree. The Jackal having gone to the place where the clothes were, taking a waist cloth in his mouth ran off. Having run off, and having put down the cloth at the place where the python, holding the boy, was staying, the Jackal ran into the jungle.

Then those men having seen that the Jackal which had taken the cloth in its mouth was running away, saying, “Aḍā! The mad Jackal taking our cloth in its mouth is running away,” followed the Jackal. When they looked, having seen that the python had seized the boy, they said, “Aḍā! The python has caught such and such a one’s boy and encircled him.”

Then those men who were ploughing and ploughing having all come running, and having beaten and thrown down the python, saved the boy. [Afterwards] those men asked at the hand of the boy, “What did the python seize thee for?”

Then the boy said, “As I was coming the python had seized the Jackal, and I was sorry. At that time I tried to save the Jackal, and that one having let the Jackal go, seized me.”

Roḍiyā. North-western Province.

STORIES OF THE KINNARĀS

No. 73

Concerning a Monk and a Yakā

A monk, tying a Yakā [by magical spells] gets work from him. For seven years he got work. Then the time having come for the Yakā to go, the Yakā every day having gone near the monk says, “Monk, tell me a work [to do].”

The monk said one day, “In Galgamuwa tank there will be seven islands. Having gone there and planed them down, come back.” After that, the Yakā having gone and planed the tank, and having very quickly come, said at the hand of the monk, “Monk, tell me a work.”

Then the monk said, “Having cut a well of seven fathoms, and having cut a Damunu1 tree, and removed the splinters, and put it down to the bottom of a well, and tied a creeper noose to the Damunu stick, you are to draw it up [from inside the well] to the ground.”

Afterwards the Yakā having cut a well of seven fathoms, and cut a Damunu tree, and removed the bark from it, and tied a creeper noose to it, and put the Damunu stick to the bottom of the well, the Yakā sitting on the ground holding the creeper noose tried to draw it out. He could not draw it. When he was drawing it, because there was slime on the Damunu stick he was unable to draw it out.

On account of the time during which the Yakā had been delayed near the well, the monk being afraid of the Yakā, the monk went backwards and backwards for three gawwas (twelve miles). The Yakā having pushed against the monk for so much time, and having got a bill-hook also, on the road he drove him (the monk) away. Having gone there [afterwards] to kill the monk, he met with the monk. After that, the Yakā threw the bill-hook, so that having cut the monk with it he would die. After he had thrown it, the bill-hook was behind,2 and the monk was in front [of it]. On account of that, the name [of the place] there became Kaettāēpahuwa [a village twenty-one miles from Kurunāēgala, on the road to Anurādhapura].

Kinnarā. North-western Province.

This story is known throughout the district to the north of Kurunāēgala. The explanation of the Damunu tree incident which was given to me is that the monk, being unable to find enough work for the Yakā, gave him this task as one that would provide occupation for him for a long time. When the bark is freshly removed, the Damunu sticks are extremely slippery. The creeper was tied at one end in a ring which was passed over the smooth stem of the tree. When the Yakā endeavoured to raise the tree by pulling at the creeper, the ring slipped up the stem instead of raising the tree.

Elsewhere in the same district I heard of another man, a villager, who had mastered a Yaksanī (female Yakā), and who made her perform work for him. In appearance she was an ordinary female, and the man’s wife was unaware of her true character, as he had not informed her of it, being afraid of alarming her. The man kept the Yaksanī under control by means of a magic iron nail, which he had driven in the crown of her head. One day during his absence she went to her mistress, and told her that a thorn had run into her head while she was carrying firewood on it, and that she was unable to draw it out. The woman extracted the nail for her, and the Yaksanī, being then free, killed the family, and escaped.

In Folk-Lore of Southern India (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 272—Tales of the Sun, p. 285—there is a story of a landowner who learnt an incantation by means of which he summoned a Brahma-Rākshasa, who became his servant, at the same time informing him that if he failed to provide work the Rākshasa would kill him. Everything he could think of was done in an incredibly short time—tank repaired and deepened, lands all cultivated—and there being nothing more to be done the wife gave the demon a hair of her head to straighten. He failed to do it, but remembering that goldsmiths heated wires when about to straighten them, he placed the hair on a fire, which burnt it up. He was afraid to face his mistress after it, so he ran away.

Regarding the thorn in the demon’s head, see No. 20.

1 Grewia tiliaefolia (?). ↑

2 Kaetta pahuwunā. ↑

No. 74

The Three Suitors

In a certain country dwelt a man and a woman, it is said. These two had a son and a daughter.

When a man came one day and asked for the daughter [in marriage] at the hand of the father, the father said, “It is good. Come on Wednesday.” The man having said “Hā,” went away.

Afterwards another man came and asked for the girl at the hand of the mother. The mother said, “It is good. Come on Wednesday.” The man having said “Hā,” went away.

After that, yet a man came and asked for her at the hand of the girl’s younger brother. The younger brother said, “It is good. Come on Wednesday.” The man having said “Hā,” went away.

Well then, the company of three persons having come on Wednesday and eaten rice and betel, caused the girl to come out [of the house], inviting her to go. Then the three persons endeavoured to call her to go in three [different] directions. Because the girl was unable to settle the dispute she ate a kind of poison, and lying down died there and then. Afterwards they buried her.

After that, the man who came first went to a sooth-sayer. The man who came next watched alone at the place where they buried her. The man who came last having said, “It doesn’t matter to me,” went to his village.

The man who went to ask for sooth having inquired about it, came to the place where they buried the girl. Having come and made incantations in the manner prescribed by the sooth-sayer, he made her arise, and got her [back to life]. After she had recovered she went to the village. The man also went there.

Now then, after the three men had come together there, the man who brought her back to life asked, “To whom do you belong?”

The girl said, “The man who watched alone at the grave is my mother. The man who went to inquire of the sooth-sayer is my father. The man who went to his village is my man.”

Having said this, the girl went with the man to his village.

Kinnarī. North-western Province.

This is a story of Vikrama and the Vampire, one of the puzzling questions set to the King being a decision as to whom the girl belonged.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 237, the girl threw herself down from the house-top. One of the suitors sprang on the funeral pile, and was burnt with her. The second watched over the grave. The third became a Fakīr, and learnt how to revive the dead. He revived both the girl and the burnt suitor. The merchant whose opinion was required decided that the two who were burnt together were brother and sister, the Fakīr who gave them renewed life was their father, and the man who merely sat by the grave must become her husband.

In the Jātaka story No. 150 (vol. i, p. 321), there is an account of a person who had learnt the spell for reviving the dead. In this case it was a tiger, who killed him.

In Totā Kahānī (Small), p. 139, out of three suitors for the hand of a girl who was carried off by a fairy, one learnt the manner of her disappearance and the place where she was, the second made a magical flying wooden horse, on which the third rode to rescue her, killed the fairy, and brought her back. The Parrot’s decision was that the last one had the best right to her, as he had risked his life for her.

No. 75

The Crocodile and the Jackal

In a river in a certain country a Crocodile stayed, it is said. While it was living there, the Crocodile having become friendly with a Crab, the Crocodile said to the Crab, “Friend, you call the Jackal to drink water, so that I may seize and eat the Jackal after he has come.” The Crab said “Hā.”

On the bank of that river there were Muruta1 trees, and there were flowers on those Muruta trees. The Crocodile said to the Crab, “I will lie down on the high ground. You bring flowers that have fallen below those Muruta trees and cover me.” Having said [this], the Crocodile lay down on the high ground near the water, and the Crab having brought the Muruta flowers covered the Crocodile.

Having covered him, the Crab, calling the Jackal, came to drink water. The Crocodile stayed as though dead. Then the Jackal having come near the Crocodile said, “In our country, indeed, dead Crocodiles wag their tails. This Crocodile, why doesn’t he wag his tail? Maybe he isn’t dead.”

Then that Crocodile which remained as though dead, wagged his tail. After that, the Jackal, without stopping even to drink water, bounded off, and went away.

Afterwards the Crocodile said to the Crab, “Friend, to-morrow I will stop at the bottom of the water. You come there with the Jackal. Then I will seize and eat him.”

The Crab having said “Hā,” on the following day came with the Jackal to the place where the Crocodile was. Then the Crocodile seized the Jackal by the foot [as he was going to drink water]. The Jackal said—

Kimbulundāē raewatundāē

Keṭala alē ḍāē ganḍāē?

“Are the Crocodiles cheated quite,

Thus the Keṭala yam to bite?”

Then the Crocodile let go. After that, on that day also without drinking water he bounded off, and went away.

From that day, the Jackals having become angry with the Crabs, and having seized and bitten the Crabs in the rice fields, place the Crabs’ claws on the earthen ridges in the fields.

Kinnarā. North-western Province.

In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 46, there is a story of a Jackal and a Crocodile, in the latter part of which the first incident is given, the tree being a Veralu (Elaeocarpus serratus). The Crab is not introduced into it.

In the Jātaka story No. 57 (vol. i, p. 142) a Crocodile endeavoured to entrap a Monkey by lying still on the top of a rock. The Monkey, suspecting some trick, from the unusual height of the rock, addressed the rock and inquired why it did not reply as usual. The Crocodile then spoke.

In Indian Folk Tales (Gordon), p. 63, the God Mahādeo (Śiva) took the place of the Crocodile, in order to be revenged on the Jackal for cheating him in the matter of the dead elephant (see No. 39, note); and the two incidents of the shamming death and seizure of the root are related.

In Old Deccan Days (Frere) p. 310, a Jackal escaped from an Alligator [Crocodile] in the same manner.

1 Lagerstroemia flos-reginae. ↑

INDEX

Abbot of Canterbury and K. John, 155

Actions, six, against one man, 171

Adikāramas beheaded, 151

Aet-kanda Lēniyā or Lihiniyā = Rukh or Garuḍa, 291, 296;
assists Prince, 293, 299;
carries off elephant, 293;
Sumerian idea, 300;
youth goes for its milk, 296.
See Rukh

Aewariyakkā Mulakkā, story of, 320, 321

Adoption of child by birds, 121, 124, 125, 127, 128

Alvarez, Father Francis, exorcised locusts, 43

Amu, a small grain, 72

Amuna, measure of 5·7 bushels, 55, 295

Anga, a Gangetic kingdom, 39, 40

Animals bought by Prince, 278, 301;
offer to marry women, 113;
protect youth, 299;
receive information from gods, 19;
with trees and road condemn man, 340, 341;
warnings by:—Aet-kanda Lēnī, 297;
bear, 298;
cat, 123, 124, 126;
crocodile, 299;
crows, 125, 300;
Demon Hound, 298;
dog, 15, 123, 124, 126;
fish, 86;
jackal, 300;
leopard, 356;
lizard, 14;
parrot, 97, 122, 124, 126;
peacock, 300;
storks, 121, 127;
woodpecker, 19

Appā, light rice cake, 78

Appearances not to be trusted, 232

Arabian Nights, 33

Ārakshā, protective written spells and diagrams, 15, 147

Ashes offered for sale, 106

Ass-driver miscounts asses, 259

Asuras, superior to Gods, 47, 50

Aṭasil, eight precepts of Buddha, kept by lay devotees (Upāsakās), 354

Ayiyā, elder brother, honorific suffix or address, 21, 68, 69, 80, 83, 85, 221, 222, 235

Bali, or Vali, K., his five sons, 40

Bali Tiyannā, priest for planetary services, 18

Banga, or Vanga, a Gangetic kingdom, 40–42

Barbet, its call, 3

Barter, 21;
bull for bill-book, 337;
cart and bulls for horse, 306;
dog for waterpot, 306;
fish for hoe, 306;
goat for dog, 306;
goods, 21, 305, 306;
hoe for ox, 306;
horse for goat, 306;
leaf for fish, 306;
ox for two cakes, 306;
waterpot for shave, 306;
wife for bull, 337

Bathing in boiling water, 60;
in warm water, 83, 87, 98, 281

Bear and youth, 298;
kills man, 299, 321

Beating converts old women into girls, 109–111

Bed of glass, 61

Bell rung to call absent King, 133

Bell worship, 352

Berawa caste, tom-tom beaters and weavers, 28, 249, 252 ff.

Betel, leaves presented to sooth-sayer, 180, 182;
vine, 364;
protected by bullock’s skull, 11

Bhārunda bird = Rukh, 300

Bhūta, frightened by man, 149;
thought his reflection a real figure, 149

Bihangama = Rukh, 300;
dung a remedy for blindness and poison, 300

Bird and eggs, 201, 204;
and grains of corn, 204, 205

Bird-lime, 179

Birds adopt child:—Crows, 125;
eagles, 128;
storks, 121, 124, 127

Birds bring presents for girl, 121, 124, 125, 127

Birth signal:—Chain, iron or silver, shaken, 131

Black storks, 7;
adopt child, 121;
carry turtle, 234, 239

Blindness caused by father, 130;
by King, 187, 276, 277;
by magic, 272;
by sight of Prince, 173;
by Yakā, 146;
cured by burning flowers on eyes, 173, 177;
by rubbing fruit on them, 90;
by ointment or medicine, 275–277;
by spell, 131

Blue clothes of Princesses, 271

Blue lotus in river, 117–119;
in sea, 298

Boar and jackal, 359;
jumps into fire, 290;
killed by lion, 360

Boars kill and eat Rākshasa, 371;
kill lion, 371;
kill tiger, 371

Bola, 69, 73, 77, etc.;
bolan, 77, 122, 223;
bolawu, 224

Borrowing clothes by litigant, 322, 327, 331

Boy and leopard, 357;
burns house, 108;
floating in river, 108;
steals fruit, 109.
See Youth

Brāhmaṇa carried jackal, 347, 348;
created first from earth, 48;
his investments, 306;
made first woman, 49;
mark of, 97;
rides on Rukh, 251, 300

Brer Rabbit and Brer Tarrypin, 244

Bridegroom and parents fetch bride, 58

Bridge, 138

Broom, a demon scarer, 50

Brothers, seven marry seven sisters, 100

Buddhas, becoming a thousand, 232, 241

Buddhist creed, 14;
precepts (sil), 349, 354

Buffalo, bathing, 7;
price of, 181, 304;
dead, revived, 102

Bullock’s skull protective, 11

Bulls offer to marry women, 113

Bull, stone, controlled by nail in head, 168

Bum-bum the tom-tom beater, 351

Burning of house, 106, 108

Buttresses on trees, 5

Cakes, of snakes’ eggs turn Queen into cobra, 132;
pounded in mortar, 72, 78;
Gamarāla’s, 219

Calf borne by bull, 233

Call to temple service, 14

Camels’ flesh as food, 176

Campā, capital of Anga state, 40

Carving figure by Princess, 98

Castes in folk-tales, 27–30

Cat assists gambler, 175, 177;
pious, 345–354

Cattle-fold, 12, 102, 191, 192

Celestial bodies near house tops, 50

Centre of country, or earth, 150, 153, 154

Chain shaken as birth signal, 131

Character of kings, 36

Charcoal, magical, creates fire, 68, 70;
white mark by, 292

Charms against dreams, 15;
against snake poison, 25

Chena, 2;
cultivation, 3, 17, 19;
watch hut, 2, 169, 170, 172;
path blocked by demon, 16

Cheṭṭi caste, 30

Child, abandoned, 120, 124–126, 173, 191;
eaten, 187, 271–273;
in exchange for mango, 302;
name given by strangers, 303;
sold, 36, 94;
own, unrecognised, 254

Cleverest animals, hare and turtle, 35

Club to turn old women into girls, 109–111

Cobra assumes human form, 132;
climbs tree to kill young eagles or Rukhs, 292, 300;
cured by Princess, 64;
fangs removed, 24;
gives treasure, 64;
guarding pool requires human offering, 58;
imprisons Prince, 59;
killed, 133, 158, 267, 292, 300;
king, 269;
pretended captures, 25;
swallows horses, 269;
tame, 23, 24

Cobra Stone, brilliance, 266, 269;
fatal light of, 266;
grants all desires, 269;
light intercepted by cow-dung, 267;
or horse-dung, 269

Cock, jewelled golden, 67–70;
silver, 264, 268

Coins:—Kahawaṇa, 33;
kahawaṇa (golden ?), 348;
masurama, 33, 62, 189, 191–193, 228–230, 278–280, 294–296, 313, 315;
panam, gold, 259;
pence, 262, 263, 304;
rupee, 304, 313; salliya, 85, 87, 139;
tuttuwa, 73, 74, 304, 306;
warāgan, 182

Consent of parents or guardians necessary before marriage, 63, 102, 127

Cookery, by Princess or Queen, 33, 98, 161, 270, 271, 279, 291;
cakes, 73, 74, 101, 220;
camels’ flesh, 176;
pumpkin milk-rice, 211;
rice, 85, 86, 129, 309

Cormorant and crab, 346

Corn store, 10, 55, 78, 109, 110, 368

Corpse set up and killed, 103

Counting incident:—Ass driver, ten asses, 259;
Chinese guard, six things, 259;
Guru Paramarta, five disciples, 259;
Kaḍambāwa men, twelve, 258;
pigs, twelve, 259;
weavers, seven, 259

Courtesan assisted by cat, 175;
has gambling house, 174;
imprisons losers, 174, 175;
marries Prince, 175

Cow-dung, 10;
winnowing basket stops light of cobra stone, 267

Cowry brings guilty snake, 91

Cow, magic, of jōgī, 276;
Sinhalese, one cubit long, 276

Creation legend, 47;
Brāhmaṇa created first, 48;
obstruction by Dānavas, 49;
Vishnu Purāna on, 49;
woman made by Brāhmaṇa, 49

Crab and crane, 345;
and cormorant, 346;
and heron, 342;
and pelican, 345;
and pond heron, 342–345

Crane and crab, 345;
makara, 346

Creed, Buddhist, 14

Crickets assist Prince, 300, 301

Crocodile, 5;
and jackal, 380, 381;
and man, 339, 341;
and monkey, 381;
cheated by jackal, 218, 240;
of sea, 298, 299;
its milk, 298;
shams death, 380;
wags its tail, 380;
warns youth, 299;
wedding of, 216;
wounded, returns next day, 362

Crops in chena, 3

Crown, 152;
golden, 144

Crow, pious, 354;
warns girl, 300

Crying tom-tom beaters and weavers, 260, 261

Cultivation, chena, 17;
rice, 17

Custom on arrival of strangers, 139

Dānavas obstruct creation, 49

Darter (Plotus), 6

Days, unlucky, 18

Dead cow revived by wand, 102

Deaf persons, two, 136;
three, 135;
four, 134–135

Death in thumb, 157

Death, payment for causing, 103

Deities, Indian, rarely mentioned, 37

Deity, gives information to animals, 19;
to man in dream, 58;
goads possessed person, 289;
guardian, 173, 175, 222, 223;
inside elephant, 249, 250, 251;
outwitted, Senasurā, 55;
Śiva, 56, 251, 381

Demon and pandit, 215;
blocked path, 16, 146;
confined in bottle, 33;
cry of, 13;
Hound, 297;
assists youth, 298, 299;
warns youth, 298;
scarers:—Broom, 50;
invectives, 172;
gun-shot, 146;
spells and diagrams, 146, 147, 171.
See Yakā

Demons inhabit north, 13

Deer and girl, 284;
mouse, 4, 35, 213, 256, 340

Departure, manner of, 15

Deposition of King, 152, 153

Depth of sea, 154

Destruction of world, 49

Dēvas, 150

Dēvatāwā, godling, dwelt in tree, 158;
feeds on smoke of lamp, 158;
guards treasure, 249

Devil and husbandman, their division of crops, 324

Difficulty of killing hero, 193, 299

Diribari-Lakā, keeps gambling-house, 174;
imprisons and enslaves losers, 174, 175;
marries Prince, 175

Dog, demon, 297;
party-coloured, 306

Dohṭa karanawā, to give poisonous bite, 157

Dola piḍēni, small square frames made of plantain stems, on which offerings to demons are placed, 147

Dream causes abandonment of journey, 16, 260;
charms against, 15;
interpretation of, 16, 260, 264, 268, 269;
truth of, 141;
warning in, 58

Dress of villagers, 8, 103

Ducks, pair of, beheaded to revive Princess, 269

Durayās, porter caste, 29, 348;
stories of, 114, 317

Eagle, white-tailed, 6;
girl carried off and reared by, 128;
lion-headed, of Lagash, 300

Eating, mode of, 12, 281, 309

Ēdanḍa, foot-bridge of tree trunk, 104, 305

Effect of Yakā’s attack on man, 146

Egret, 5, 6, 342

Elephant, 3;
assists Prince, 295;
kills jackal, 316;
selects King, 65, 81, 90–92, 99

Elopement, 41, 63, 99, 127

Emal bisawā, 125

Escape while arrows are fetched, 96, 99;
while carried on bed, 357, 358

Evils, all due to evil spirits, 16

Evil eye, bullock’s skull against, 11;
effect of, 15

Evil mouth, 15

Exorcism of flies, 18;
locusts, 43

Eyes plucked out, 130, 272, 276, 277;
replaced, 131, 275

Fakīr changes letter, 276, 277

Fan shaken to call Prince, 133

Farmer’s wife and tiger, 215

Fate, 19, 314

Father’s name remembered on performing difficult feat, 140

Feather dress, removable, 310, 311

Female quail and its egg, 201

Fever, treatment for, 338

Field, rice, 6

Figure carved, 98;
made of rice flour, 303

Figurine, injury through, 167, 168

Finger-nail, food carried under, 53, 101;
poisonous, 125, 126, 128

Fire-flies fried, 294;
assist Prince, 296

Fire kills Rākshasa, 70, 71, 290

First cooking, 22;
fire, 22;
fruits, 20, 309;
hair-cutting, 72–74;
milk taken, 304

Fish, sun-dried, speaks, 86;
saves Prince, 87

Five hundred carts, 192;
cattle, 191;
masuran, 313, 315

Flies, exorcism of, 18

Flight through air, 59, 60, 64, 66

Flower, floating, comes into hand, 118, 119;
silver, 264, 268

Flying horse, 66, 277, 379

Fly killed on head, 259, 319, 321

Folk-tales contain picture of ancient village life, 35

Food, Indian, 176;
and clothes obtained at road-side shops, 21;
carried under finger-nail, 52, 101;
given to man by Yakā, 148, 149;
King’s, prepared by royal family, 33, 270;
magic, fills pot, 53, 101;
primitive, 51

Fool in well, 317, 318

Foolish Brāhmaṇa, 263, 347;
Gamarāla, 322, 325;
Gamarāla’s son, 336;
judge, 230;
King, 199, 334;
leopard, 35, 213;
man, 228, 262, 317, 318;
tiger, 35, 215;
tom-tom beaters or weavers, 249, 250, 252, 262

Forest, animals in, 3, 4, 173, 175;
resembles ocean, 1

Fortune from mouse, 197;
from carrying butter, 197, 198, 306;
from glass-ware, 198

Fortune-telling, 23, 101, 173, 289

Four tasks of Prince, 295–298, 301;
four tom-tom beaters, 262

Frame for cooking pots, 10, 338;
for demon offerings, 147

Frere, Sir Bartle, on cookery by King’s family, 33;
on poisonous snake’s biting boy, 24

Frog Prince, 67

Gāla, a fold for cattle or goats, 2, 102, 230, 367, 368

Galgamuwa tank, in N.-W. Prov., 375

Gama-gāēni, wife of Gamarāla, 319, 336;
treated for fever, 338

Gama-mahagē, wife of Gamarāla, 124, 219, 328, 329, 284;
abandons child, 124, 125

Gama-mahayiyā, wife of Gamarāla, 125

Gama-puta, son of Gamarāla, 319, 336–338;
exchanged bull for bill-hook, 337;
wife for bull, 337;
his wife’s illness, 336;
treats bill-hook for fever, 338;
treats mother for fever, 338

Gama-rāhami = Gamarāla, 326, 327

Gamarāla, 78, 126, 129, 284;
abandons child, 124, 125;
duties, 27;
keeps many horses, 228

Gamarāla and foolish son, 319, 320;
and leopard, 367, 368;
and washerman, 322, 325;
their cattle-grazing, 325, 326;
their exchange of timber, 324, 329;
lawsuits, 322, 327;
quarrels, 326;
sharing cattle, 323, 326;
chena, 322;
onion garden, 323;
rice field, 323

Gamarāla’s cakes, 219–223;
cat, 350;
search for stars, 284;
village sold, 284

Gamayā, village headman, 201–204, 208

Gambling, 22, 30, 174, 177, 178

Gambler assisted by cat, 175, 177

Garā Yakā, 318

Garuḍa in Ceylon, 251, 300;
man rides on, 251;
nature of, 300;
races turtle, 244.
See Aet-kanda Lēniyā and Rukh.

Gem, contained sand, 140;
cut with sword, 140;
drops from mouth on laughing, 90;
stones given to Princes, 80, 82, 83, 89

Gifts, magic, 68, 71;
King’s, 99, 133, 365, 366

Giants accompany Prince, 161;
imprisoned by Rākshasī, 162;
restore Prince’s life, 165;
fight of, 313–315

Gilding woman’s body, 290

Girl, at Rākshasa’s house, 121, 124, 125, 163–165;
eyes plucked out and restored, 130, 131;
figure made of flour, 303;
her thief-lovers, 330 ff.;
imprisoned in tree, 269;
in golden swing, 129;
storks’, 120 ff.;
wants Nikini, 284 ff.

Glass bed, 61, 62

Glass Princess, 57–65;
becomes mare, 64;
magical gifts, 63;
power of flight, 59, 60, 64

Goat and jackal, 361, 362;
and lion, 215;
and tiger, 215;
foreign, 306;
price, 304

Gods give son, 336;
inform animals of coming events, 19;
make man, 48;
unable to create earth, 47;
visit men in men’s disguise, 51, 55, 157, 223

Golden branches, 269;
cock, jewelled, 67–70;
kaekiri, 129, 131, 132;
leaves, 269;
peacock, 70, 71;
salt chillies, 367;
shoot, 273;
swing, 129;
tree, 264, 268

Goods given away, 306

Goonetilleke, W., on folk-tales, 31

Goonewardene, E. G., folk-tales by, 197, 199

Grain measures, 133, 208

Grateful animals, 295, 296;
Aet-kanda Lēnī, 293;
cobra, 64;
dog, 365;
jackal, 373;
monkey, 279–282;
Rākshasī, 163;
Yakā, 142, 144

Ground Cuckoo, 13, 349, 351

Guard, Chinese, counted articles, 259

Guardian deity, 222, 223;
protects Prince, 173, 175

Guru Paramarta and disciples count themselves, 259

Gypsies, 22–24;
their cobras, 23–25

Hair, cuts iron tree, 64;
first cutting, 72, 73;
knot’s absence a mark of slavery (?), 84;
Rākshasī’s causes fire, 71

Hare and jackal, 209 ff.;
and tom-tom beaters, 255;
devil-dancer, 349–352;
feigns death, 209, 210

Hay, Drummond, on poisonous snakes’ biting charmers, 24

Headmen, Kandian, grades and duties, 27

Heaven, visit to, 76, 106, 301

Heron and crab, 342;
pond, 7, 342–345

Heṭṭiyā or Seṭṭiyā, man of Cheṭṭi caste, 30, 82–89, 139–145, 287–288

Hidden Prince, 69;
treasure, 64

Hides, cattle, not bought, 104

Hokkiyē, cry of jackal, 316

Hopscotch, 193, 194

Horoscope, 101, 173

Horse, borne by oil-mill, 229, 233;
eaten by tree, 233;
flying, 64, 66, 277, 379;
many kept by Gamarāla, 228;
price, 50 masuran, 229;
speaking, 199;
two out of pumpkin, 233;
white, of King, 144, 199

House burnt, 106, 108;
deity, 222;
Kandian, 10;
surrounded by seven, 83

Hunchback and robin, 207

Husbandman and devil, division of crops, 324

Huts, of gypsies, 22;
watch, 2, 169, 170, 172

Hyaena and hare, 233

Idiots, twenty-five, 318

Imgig, lion-headed eagle, emblem of Lagash, 300

Immortality through eating golden peacock, 71

Improvisation of stanzas, 28

Incense box, 308

Indra, 223;
creates Brāhmaṇa from earth, 48;
creates Princess, 157;
teaches use of jak fruit, 51;
work of, 150–152

Infanticide, 36, 101, 120, 124–126, 173

Iron house against Yakā, 137, 145

Iron tree cut by hair, 60, 64, 66

Jacana, 7

Jackal, 204;
advises man, 367;
against leopard, 368;
and boar, 359;
and Brāhmaṇa, 347, 348;
and crocodile, 216–218, 380, 381;
and goat, 361;
and hare, 209;
and leopard, 367;
and lion, 316, 359;
and Mahādeo, 381;
and turtle, 234;
assists man, 340, 341, 367, 373;
as witness, 231–233;
cheated by lizard, 240;
cheated by turtles, 235 ff.;
cheats crocodile, 240;
cheats hare, 211;
cheats scavengers, 251;
cheats Śiva, 251;
cheats tom-tom beaters, 249, 250;
Dēvatāwā inside bullock, 251;
inside elephant, 249–251;
eats dainties of lion or tiger, 360, 362, 363;
enmity against crabs, 381;
hares, 212;
gets washed, 212;
grateful, 373;
induces King to marry daughter to weaver, 283;
judgment, 339–341;
leopard’s preceptor, 213;
offers to marry women, 113;
pious, 354;
proud, 316;
settles lawsuit, 228–233;
skin dress, 310;
titles, 213, 230, 316, 367;
warns girl, 300;
wounded by knife in fruits, 358

Jacket made by Princess, 94

Jak fruit, eating taught by Indra, 51

Janel Siññā, Mr., 278;
his cities, 282

Jayawardana, D. A., legends of primitive times, 50

Jewelled ring, 143–145, 295

Jōgī, white cow of, 276;
three became copper pots when killed, 269

Journey abandoned through dream, 16, 260

Jungle and forest, appearance of, 1–4

Jungle-fowl, 4, 204, 322, 349, 353

Kāccalē = Ground Cuckoo, 349

Kaḍambāwa men and bush, 257;
and hares, 255;
and mouse-deer, 256;
count themselves, 258;
interpret dream, 260;
journey to Puttalam, 253

Kaekiri, a small cucumber, 3, 117, 120, 125, 126, 140, 365;
golden, 129–132

Kattāēpahuwa, story of origin of name, 376

Kahawaṇa, 33;
golden (?), 348

Kālinga, Indian kingdom, 37, 40–43;
Kings and Queens came from, 37, 38

Kandian castes in folk-tales, 27 ff.;
headmen, 27;
houses, 10;
village, 6, 8, 26

Kayiyā, a party of labourers assisting a person without pay, 52

Keṭala, aquatic plant, 235, 381

Kettledrum, double, used at temples, 14, 238

Kettle with twelve spouts, 87

Kindness rewarded, 16, 365

King carries off Princess, 94;
cheated, 334;
chops firewood, 265;
death sentence on Prince, 36, 66, 80, 91, 137, 160, 173, 278, 279, 291;
on Princesses, 270;
dreams of gold or silver tree, 264, 269;
gifts to girls, 365, 366;
loses sight or dies on seeing son, 173, 177;
marries Rākshasī or ogress, 186, 190, 272, 276, 277;
rescues girl from Rākshasa, 303;
sells firewood, 65, 66;
seized by Yakā, or ogre, 141, 145;
wicked, 191

Kings in folk-tales are Parumakas, 34;
unfavourably depicted, 36

Kinnarā, 30, 95, 98;
and parrots, 224–226;
curly hair, 30;
stories by, 375;
villages, 30

Kitten assists Prince, 301

Kitul seeds, story of, 197

Knife run through fruits, 355, 358

Kohomba deity, 317

Kokkā, large wading bird, 234

Kulēbakā flowers cure blindness, 173, 177;
in forest of Gods, 173;
guarded by Yakās, 175, 176

Kuppāyama, Roḍiya hamlet, 30

Kūrmarsha, 243

Kuwēnī and Wijaya, 167

Lagash, lion-headed eagle the emblem of, 300

Lāḷa, a district of Vanga, 41

Lan̥ka, or Lakdiva, name of Ceylon, 38

Lattī’s man, 76, 77, 78

Lawsuits, 21;
Gamarāla v. washerman, 322, 327;
servant v. oil-mill owner, 229 ff.;
thief v. merchant, 331, 332;
weaver-bird v. monkey, 247

Lēniyā or Lihiniyā, Aet-kanda = Rukh, 291–293, 296, 297, 299;
assists Prince, 293, 299;
carries off elephant, 293;
nest in tree, 292, 296

Leopard, 3;
and jackal, 367;
and mouse-deer, 213;
and lizard, 355–358;
carries off boy, 357;
fear of lizard, 357, 358;
noosed, 368;
stupidest animal, 35;
warns man, 356

Letter changed by Fakīr, 276, 277;
by Princess, 195, 275, 276;
by Sannyāsi, 276;
by Yōgī, 277;
in orange, 95;
sent, 144, 188, 193–195, 274–277

Life index:—Barley plant, 165;
blue-lotus flower, 162, 164;
lime trees, 162, 164;
nosegay, 165;
plant, 165;
tree, 165

Life concealed in bees, 166, 167;
birds, 166, 167;
box, 167;
brightness of sword, 167;
cocks, 166;
golden parrot, 190;
lemon, 167;
mountain, 167;
necklace, 166;
parrot, 167;
pigeon, 166;
snow, 166;
spinning-wheel, 166;
starling, 166;
sword, 164, 166, 167;
tree, 167;
veranda pillar, 166

Lightning unlucky, 174, 227, 313, 359, 360

Lion, 35;
and goat, 215;
and jackal, 316, 359;
and turtle, 241;
cheated by turtle, 242 ff., 244

Lion-throne, 152

Lizard, 3, 19;
and leopard, 355–358;
cheats jackal, 240;
chirp, an omen, 14

Locusts, exorcised, 43, 44

Loku-ammā, step-mother, 116–118, 130–133;
mother’s elder sister, 115

Loku-māma, eldest uncle, 102

Longing of pregnancy, 116–118, 130, 284, 285

Lotus, blue, 117–119, 298;
in Creation legend, 47, 48;
pink, 119

Lucky hour for beginning works, 18

Lynx and tiger, 215

Maccocalingæ and Modogalingæ, Gangetic tribes, of Pliny, 40

Madahapola, P. B., folk-tale by, 350

Maḍuwa, an open shed, 8

Magadha, 39

Magic, cow, 276;
figurine, 167, 168;
fruit mango, 90, 116;
kaekiri, 117;
gifts, three, 68;
four, 71;
horse, 277, 379;
rice, 276, 277;
seat, 99;
singing water, 276;
turtle dove, 80;
wand, 102, 109, 111

Mahādeo and jackal, 56, 251, 381

Mahagē, well-to-do village woman, 129

Maha-Mudā, Yaksanī, marries Prince, 176

Maharājani, form of addressing king, 199, 200

Man and crocodile, 339–341;
and snake, 341;
assisted by jackal, 340, 341, 367–369, 373;
condemned by animals, trees and road, 340, 341;
made from earth, 48

Mango in exchange for child, 302;
tree, a dead woman, 116, 117

Māra, Death, imprisoned in bottle, 33

Margōsa tree planted for king, 334

Mariyada Rāman, stories of, 37

Marriage customs, 238, 240, 308;
to bridegroom’s sword, 58, 65

Masurama (coin), 33, 62, 189, 191–193, 228–230, 278, 279, 294–296, 313, 315;
measure for, 280

Mātalangē Loku-appu, 108

Midula, open ground in front of house, 10, 73, 74, 130, 163, 209

Milk-rice, 13, 211

Millet Trader, 72 ff.

Mini-geḍi, hawk’s-bell, 352

Mini Ran Kukuḷā, jewelled golden cock, 67

Minister, Chief, 154;
giant appointed, 315;
pay of, 189

Mī-paeṭikkī, young mouse or rat, 308

Money, 33;
kahawaṇa (golden ?), 348;
masurama, 62, 189, 191–193, 228–230, 278, 279, 294–296, 313, 315;
panam, gold, 259;
pence, 262, 263, 304;
rupee, 181, 304, 313;
salliya, 85, 87, 139;
tuttuwa, 73, 74, 304, 306;
warāgan, 182

Monk and Yakā, 375;
and boy, 320

Monkey and crocodile, 381;
and Prince, 278;
and weaver-bird, 247;
brown, 5, 278;
grey, 3, 247;
induces King to marry daughter to Prince, 281;
skin dress, 310, 311

Moon as a man, legend, 52;
travels in breezes, 53

Mouse, dead, fortune from, 197;
jacket, 310

Mouse maiden, cooks food, 309;
in incense box, 308;
reaps paddy, 309;
becomes Princess, 310

Mouse-deer, 4, 35;
and leopard, 213;
and tiger, 340;
and tom-tom beaters, 256

Müller-Hess, Prof., inscriptions translated, 38

Mun̥, a small pulse grown in chenas, 3, 295, 296

Mun-aeṭa Guruwā, 169;
re-born as Yakā, 170, 172

Murders, frequent and unpunished, 36

Murungā tree, 79, 88, 123, 124, 126, 323, 328

Musical instruments, 238

Naekata, 173, 323, 324

Nāga or Nāgayā, 157;
takes form of cobra, 158;
belt, 158;
King, 267, 269;
killed by Prince, 267;
Princesses, 267;
beheaded, 268;
marry Princes, 268;
three were a golden tree, silver flower, and silver cock, 268;
stone, its qualities, 269

Nagul-Munnā, 169

Nari-nayidē, 230, 231, 239, 316, 340

Nayidē, artificers’ caste, 28

New Year, 22;
ceremonies at lucky hours, 22

Nikini, story, 284;
non-existent, 285;
search for it, 286

Niśśanka-Malla, K., 37, 43

North, inhabited by demons, 13

Number of stars, 150, 153, 154

Oath, 158, 195;
by touching body, 93, 293, 298

Obeisance, claims to, by Brāhmaṇas, 263;
men, 263;
tom-tom beaters, 262

Obstacles created, three, 68, 70;
four, 71

Ōḍra State, 40

Offering, human, to cobra guarding pool, 58;
to Yakā, 147

Office through eating bird, 90, 91

Ogre = Rākshasa, 34;
characteristics, 145;
seizes King, 145

Oil-mill gives birth to horse, 229, 233

Olinda game at New Year, 22

Omens, 14, 15, 260

Owl, call thought to be cry of demons, 13

Paddy, legend of, as woman, 52;
cooked in hell, 53

Pandit and demon, 215;
wise, 199

Paramour, 73, 157, 221, 287, 289

Parrot, 14, 121–127;
as Prince, 66;
gives warning, 97, 122, 124, 126

Parrots, 14;
and Kinnarā, 224 ff.;
when netted escape by feigning death, 225, 227

Parumaka, early Chief, termed King in folk-tales, 34

Pāṭaliputta, capital of Magadha, 39

Panams, gold, 259

Path blocked by Yakā, 16, 146

Peacock, golden, 70, 71;
warns girl, 300

Pelican and crab, 345

Pence, 262, 263, 304

Peraeli-bāsa, 368

Perēdā, 75

Pied Robin and its song, 206

Pigs saved by Prince assist him, 295;
count themselves, 259;
kill Rākshasa, 370, 371

Pious cat, 349–354;
crow, 354;
heron, 342;
jackal, 354

Planets, influence of, 18

Poison by powdered glass, antidote, 300

Polyandry, 36, 115

Polygamy, 36, 64, 145, 176, 177, 186, 262, 272

Pond heron, 7;
and crab, 342–345

Pool guarded by cobra, 58

Portents, 16:—
Favourable words, 14;
house lizard’s chirp, 14;
no obstruction on leaving house or starting on journey, 14, 15;
seeing first a person of superior rank, 14;
stepping over threshold with right foot, 14;
woodpecker’s cry, 19

Portrait displayed, 99;
sent for approval before marriage, 57, 66

Possession, 181, 182, 184;
sooth-saying due to goading by deity, 289

Pots, cooking, stand for, 10, 338;
of oil, story, 304

Potters’ caste, 28

Pōya day, 14

Preceptor, leopard’s, 213;
royal, 151

Presents, magical, 68, 71;
by King, 99, 133, 365, 366

Proud jackal, 316

Prince abandons kingdom for wife, 93;
accompanied by animals, 277, 297–299, 300, 301;
and monkey, 278 ff.;
and Yakā, 137 ff.;
assisted by animals:—
Ants, 301;
bear, 299;
crickets, 300, 301;
Demon Hound, 299;
elephants, 295;
fire-flies, 296;
frogs, 301;
kitten, 301;
pigs, 295;
rats, 61;
Rukh, 293, 299;
snake, 301;
turtle doves, 296;
Yakā, 142, 144;
as frog, 67;
as parrot, 66;
as tortoise or turtle, 71;
at nest of Aet-kanda Lēniyā or Rukh, 292, 296;
at Rākshasī’s house, 69;
at school, 93, 160;
beheads three Nāga Princesses at one stroke, 268;
brings wonderful articles, 276, 277, 301;
buys animals, 278, 301;
carried by Rukh, 293, 300;
changed into birds, 276;
chased by Rākshasas, 70, 71;
chops firewood, 265;
fights Rākshasa, 163;
hidden in trunk, 69;
hides robes of Princess, 291, 301;
imprisoned by cobra, 59;
killed by potter, 194;
kills cobra, 292, 300;
kills lizard in place of brother, 161;
kills Nāga King, 267;
kills ogre, 90;
kills Yakā, 143, 265, 274;
life in necklace, 166;
in sword, 164–167;
lives with flower woman, 79, 87;
made horse-keeper, 139;
made shepherd, 141;
made slave, 84;
marries courtesan, 175;
marries mouseling, 308;
marries Nāga Princess, 268;
marries Yaksanī, 176;
saved by sun-dried fish, 87;
saves Aet-kanda Lēniyā’s young ones, 293;
ant, 301;
cricket, 300, 301;
eagles, 300;
elephants, 294;
fire-flies, 294;
frog, 301;
giants, 162;
monkey, 278;
pigs, 294;
turtle doves, 294;
seeks meaning of dream, 265;
selects Princess in dark room, 296;
sent by Rākshasī, 274, 276, 277;
maims Yaksanī and is served by her, 189;
sentenced to death, 36, 66, 80, 91, 137, 160, 173, 278, 279, 291;
tasks given, 66, 274, 276, 277, 295, 296;
thrown overboard, 87, 91;
binds Rākshasī’s daughter, 69;
visits Princess at night, 62, 66;
visits Indralōka, 301;
Nāgalōka, 267

Princess alters letter, 195, 275, 276;
at Rākshasa’s house, 270;
bathed after puberty, 294;
bathes in river, 84, 138, 291;
becomes mare, 64;
becomes mouseling, 308;
carves figure, 98;
cures cobra, 64;
encloses letter in orange, 95;
escapes from captors or death, 95, 96, 99, 270, 271;
faithless, 157;
flying powers, 59, 64;
learns writing, 93;
magic gifts to Prince, 63;
made from Prince’s body, 157, 159;
made King, 99;
made school teacher, 97;
marries slave, 85;
offered to Yakā, 141, 143;
personates Brāhmaṇa, 96;
pricks finger to keep awake, 63, 66;
recognises Prince’s ring, 295;
robes hidden, 291, 301;
selected by Prince in dark room, 296;
sews jacket, 94;
sold, 36, 91, 94;
wears blue robe, 271

Princesses, Nāga, 267;
marry Princes, 268

Princesses, seven, 270, 281;
escape from Rākshasa, 271;
marry King, 272

Puberty custom, 294

Puñci-Ammā, step-mother, 89;
mother’s younger sister, 296

Puṇḍra State, 40

Purōhita Brāhmaṇa, 151

Python seizes boy, 373

Queen becomes cobra, 132;
sells firewood, 65, 66

Queens eat children, 187, 272, 276, 277;
eyes plucked out, 187, 272, 276, 277;
twelve, 186

Quail and its egg, 201

Quartering and hanging at city gates, 86, 89

Questions, two, 154;
three, 150, 155;
four, 153

Race:—Brer Rabbit and Brer Tarrypin, 244;
crane and butterfly, 244;
crane and crab, 244;
Garuḍa and turtle, 244;
lion and turtle, 242, 244

Rāhami, 327, 328

Rāhu, Asura Chief, assists in Creation, 47;
his divine form, 50;
planetary sign, 49

Rājagaha, capital of Magadha, 39

Raja Gurunnānsē, 151

Rākshasa = ogre, 34;
afraid of fire, 70, 71;
and boars, 370;
at girl’s door, 122–126, 128;
cannot straighten hair, 377;
creates mouth at crown of head, 303;
death by drinking, 124;
death in fire, 290;
eats daughter, 271;
eats girl’s figure, 303;
gives mango for child, 302;
head split, 303;
imprisons girl in tree, 269;
killed by boars, 370;
killed by thorn in head, 163;
King, 66, 71;
life in bees, birds, etc., 166, 167;
man’s servant, 376;
marries woman, 290;
mode of approach, 163

Rākshasī, 67;
assists Prince, 163;
imprisons giants, 161, 162;
smells Prince, 69;
burnt, 70, 71

Ran oncillāwa, golden swing, 129

Rāsayā, Rāsi = Rākshasa (m. and f.), 34, 67

Raṭēmahatmayās, principal district chiefs, 27;
beheaded, 151

Raṭēwissa, 327

Rat and cat, 351–353;
assists gambler, 177;
eggs, 252;
male about to bear young, 233

Rats come when thought of, 60, 61;
excavate tunnel, 61, 177;
saved from drowning, 59;
save elephant, 66

Reaping chena, 19;
rice, 20

Rewards given by Kings, 67, 90, 185, 266, 267, 315

Rice cultivation, 17;
eating, 12, 86;
field, 1, 6;
magic, 276, 277;
night growing, 276;
originally huskless, 51;
threshing, 20;
strung on date spike transforms frog, 67, 70

Riddle, 158, 215

Ring cools boiling water, 63;
jewelled, 143, 295

Road tax, 21

Robin, pied, 206

Roḍiyā, 29, 30, 372;
stories by, 364;
term of reproach, 73, 74

Roll of cotton, 364

Rosary, 349, 350

Rukh, 291–300 = Aet-kanda Lēniyā or Lihiniyā, 291;
Bhārunda bird, 300;
Bihangama, 300;
Garuḍa, 251, 300;
Imgig, 300;
Zū, 300;
assists Prince, 293, 299;
breeds in Ceylon, 251, 292, 296, 300;
carries off elephants, 293;
man rides on one, 251;
Sumerian idea, 300

Rupee, 181, 304, 313

Sack, man tied in, 104, 106, 110

Sāēstara, 179

Sahadeo, father of Śiva, 56, 251

Sāhasa-Malla, K., 38

Śakra appears as man, 51, 157;
created Princess out of Prince’s body, 157

Sale of children, 36, 94

Salliya, 85, 87, 139

Samādama, 98

Saman, God, 47, 48, 50, 223

Sand of sea, King’s journey for, 285;
used in creation of earth, 48

Sangha-raja, 153, 154

Sannyāsi changes letter, 276;
seizes Yakā, 171

Sapu-flowers’ Minister = leopard, 367

Scarecrow, 230

Scavengers cheated by jackal, 251

School, 93, 96–99, 160

Sea, depth of, 154;
on fire, 233

Seed collected after sowing, 296, 300, 301

Self-acting bill-hook, 337;
sickle, 338

Senasurā, deity, appears as old man, 55;
assists worshipper, 56;
his evil influence, 54;
gives book, 56;
legend of, 54

Seṭṭiyā or Heṭṭiyā, 30, 82 ff., 139 ff., 287, 288

Seven baskets, 122;
baths, 300;
brothers marry seven sisters, 100;
bundles of firewood, 122;
days, 48, 91, 308;
doors, 128;
family of, marry seven, 107;
gawwas, 53;
houses, 83;
jars of milk, 300;
pots of water, 100, 122, 125, 300;
mats, 100;
nights, 66;
quarts of money, 104;
Princes, 57;
Princesses, 57, 84, 270, 281;
Rākshasa girls, 271;
robbers, 317;
seas, 71;
trees planted, 334;
trunks, 69;
Vaeddās, 96, 98;
weavers, 259;
years, 81, 89

Shed, road-side, for travellers (ambalama), 9, 61, 62, 63, 64, 94, 95, 138, 278, 279, 312

Shops, road-side, 21, 85, 209

Sickle gets fever, 338

Sīgiris Siññō, the giant, 312, 313;
kills twenty flies, 312;
victor over giant and made Prime Minister, 314, 315

Sīha-Bāhu, K., 41

Sillu, Hopscotch, 193, 194

Silver cock, flower, and tree, 264, 268, 269

Sil rakinawā, 349, 354

Sinhapura or Sīhapura, 37–43

Sister kills sister, 114

Śiva cheated by jackal, 56, 251, 381

Sivalinga, God, 287–289

Skin dresses:—Dove, jackal, monkey, mouse, tortoise-shell, woman, 310, 311

Sky, near house-tops, 50

Sleeping, lying east and west, 13

Slaves branded when freed, 177;
hair-knot cut, 84;
losing gamblers enslaved, 174, 175, 177, 178

Small Lion, title of jackal, 316

Smith makes bow and arrows, 273

Smiths’ caste, 27, 28

Snake and man, 341;
assists Prince, 301;
bite cured by snake, 91;
by spell, 301;
brought by cowry, 91;
cakes made of eggs turn Queen into cobra, 132;
charms against its poison, 25;
killed, or cut in two, 133, 158, 267, 292;
poison brought, 301;
poisonous, bites charmer, 24

Soothsaying, 180 ff., 289

South, abode of Yama, 13

Sovereignty through eating bird, cock, fruit, maina, mango, sheldrake, 90, 91;
turtle dove, 80,89

Speaking horse, 199

Spell, against Yakā, 146, 147, 171;
broken by conversation, 19;
cures snake-bite, 301;
revives corpse, 378, 379

Spring dried by magic, 91, 92

Squirrel, small, its cry, 352

Stars, number of, 150, 153, 154;
search for, 284

States of Lower Ganges, 39

Statue displayed as bait, 98

Step-mother, cruel, 79, 90, 91, 130, 132

Sticks thrown into river, 108, 319

Stone, magic, 68, 70

Storks, 7;
and turtle, 234, 239

Stupid boy, 108, 319

Stories brought from India, 38, 176

Story told in sections, 88, 91

Strangers give name for child, 303;
names taken by guards, 139

Subha, K., 153

Subhadrā, Q., 37

Suitor’s tasks, 60, 295;
three, 378, 379

Sumitta, K., 41

Sun legend, as man, 52;
orbit, 53

Sunga, son of Vali, 40

Swarṇamūla mountain, breeding place of Rukhs, 300

Swing, golden, 129

Sword contains life of Prince, 164–167;
marriage to, 58, 65;
of state, 152

Tales accord with village experience or traditions, 36;
some brought by later immigrants, 37

Talla, reservoir, 298

Tāmalitta, Gangetic State and port, 40, 42

Tamarind Ṭikkā, 100;
carries food under finger-nail, 101;
drowns uncles, 105;
hung under bridge, 104;
sets up corpse in garden, 103;
revives dead buffalo, 102

Tambi, Muhammedan trader or pedlar, 110, 221

Tamil King, 313–315

Tank, village, 4;
turtles, 6, 115, 234 ff., 241 ff.

Tasks given:—One, 189, 274, 276, 277;
two, 60, 63, 125, 301;
three, 66, 105, 122;
four, 295–298, 301;
bathing in boiling water, 60, 63;
bringing firewood, 122;
milk of bear, crocodile, Demon Hound, Rukh, 296–298;
carrying water, 122, 125;
cutting gem, 140;
cutting iron tree, 60, 63, 66;
pounding paddy, 122, 125;
solving riddle, 158

Tax, road, 21

Terms of relationship are conciliatory and honorific, 21, 68, 69, 80, 83, 85, 174, 276, 277, 298, 364

Thorn or pin, magic, 68–71;
effect of, 168, 376;
kills Rākshasa, 163

Thousand articles, 281, 282;
masuran, 191–193, 278, 279;
Buddhas, 232, 241

Thread, charmed, 15;
standing at, 268

Three questions, 150;
suitors, 378, 379

Thieves, two:—Clothes and horse borrowed, 331;
purse stolen and replaced, 330;
wife of, 333

Threshing floor, 20, 120;
rice, mode of, 20

Tiger and farmer’s wife, 215;
and goat, 215;
and lynx, 215;
and man, 340, 341;
and mouse-deer, 340;
and two brothers, 215

Timber for house building, 323, 328

Tokkama, 350;
Tokkā or Tokkan the devil-dancer = hare, 349, 351

Tom-tom beaters and bull, 254;
and bush, 257;
and dream, 260;
and hares, 255;
and mouse-deer, 256;
caste, 28;
cheated by jackal, 249;
children unrecognised, 253, 254;
crying, 260, 261;
counting themselves, 258;
foolishness of, 252;
four, story of, 262;
journey to Puttalam, 253;
stories of, 109, 252;
throw man into river, 111

Tom-toms, say words, 29, 238, 303;
verse on, 238

Tortoise Prince, 71;
shell dress, 71, 311

Transformation:—Frog into Prince 67, 70;
parrot into Prince, 66;
Prince into birds, 276;
Queen into cobra, 132

Transmission of tales from India, 38, 176

Travellers’ shed (ambalama) on road-side, 8, 61–64, 94, 95, 138, 278, 279, 312

Treasure of cobra, 64;
seekers killed, 105, 106, 111

Tree, buttresses, 5;
girl as, 269;
golden, 264;
Nāga Princesses, 268;
silver, 269;
speaking, 117, 123, 124, 126, 340, 341

Trickery approved, 36

Trikālinga, 40

Trumpets, 238

Tummal Kittī, jungle hen, 349

Tun-iri Mudiyansē, small squirrel, 351

Tunnel dug, by pigs, 370, 371;
dug by rats, 61, 62, 177;
thief, 66

Turtle, tank, 6, 113 ff.;
and jackal, 234;
and lion, 241;
carried by geese, 240;
by hansas, 239, 240;
by black storks, 234, 239, 240;
cheats Brer Rabbit, 244;
Garuḍa, 244;
jackal, 235 ff.;
lion, 242–244

Turtle dove, 79;
magic, effect of eating, 80, 89;
Prince assisted by, 296

Tusk-elephant mountain, 291

Tuttuwa, 73, 74, 304, 306

Udayagiri, mountain of Dawn, 71

Unlucky days, 18

Unnānsē namak, 320

Untruthfulness, 36

Upāsakā, 350, 354

Vaeddā, 202–204;
complains to King, 188;
K. imprisons travellers, 34, 64, 65;
in folk-tales, 34;
seven shoot for Princess, 96, 98;
shoots magic turtle-dove, 80, 81;
visits city, 273;
wedding custom, 240;
stories, 224

Vali, K., and his five sons, 40

Vanaspati rice, 277

Vanga, Gangetic kingdom, 40

Vedarāla or Vedā, demon expeller, 147, 171;
medical man, 336, 338;
soothsayer, 179–185

Vessels, Gangetic, their voyages, 42, 43

Vibhīsana, K. in Ceylon, 251

Victim’s escape, enemies take his place, 105, 106, 110, 112

Village, Kandian, 6;
dress, 8, 103;
garden, 11;
life, 21, 35;
new year’s re-union, 21;
path, 2;
tank, 4;
women, 8

Vishnu, 227;
boar incarnation, 50;
creation of earth and man, 47–50

Wager for life, 158

Wand, magic white, revives dead buffalo, 102

Warāgan, 182

Warnings by animals, etc., 14, 15, 19, 97, 122–124, 126, 297–299, 300, 356

Washerman, caste, 28;
and boy, 320, 321;
and jackal, 212;
and Gamarāla, 322, 325;
their cattle, 323, 325, 326;
chena, 322;
house building, 323, 324, 328, 329;
onion garden, 323;
rice field, 323;
lawsuits, 322, 327

Watch hut in chena, 2, 72, 73, 169, 170

Water not drunk while eating, 12

Waterpot, foreign, 306

Weaver-bird and monkey, 247

Weavers count themselves, 259;
foolishness of, 252;
hero killed a mosquito, 315;
nine flies, 315

Whale’s fat brought, 301

Wife exchanged for bullock, 36, 337;
taken by king, 94, 186

Wimalī, 302;
reared by Rākshasa, 303

Wijaya, K., 38–41, 167;
his exile doubtful, 41;
his voyage to Ceylon, 42;
saves followers from Kuwēnī, 167, 168

Woodpecker’s cry, 3;
an omen, 19

Woman, body gilded (?), 290;
dead, becomes white turtle, 115;
mango tree, 116;
kaekiri, 117;
blue lotus, 118;
revived by spell, 378, 379;
made by first man, 49;
made from man’s body, 157, 159;
marries Rākshasa, 290;
old, rejuvenated by beating, 109–111;
skin dress, 310, 311

Work, all, begun at lucky hour, 18, 22

Worship of Gods for a child, 336

Writing style, 93

Yabbaelli, f. Demon Hound, 297

Yama, God of Death, in south, 13

Yakā, afraid of man, 148, 149;
and Damunu pole, 375;
and monk, 375;
assists Prince, 142, 144;
blinds man, 146;
blocks path, 16, 146;
imprisoned in bottle, 33;
in iron house, 137;
killed by Prince, 143, 265, 274;
kills calf and men, 170, 171;
lives in tree, 148;
magic nail in head, 376;
man-eating, 137, 141–143, 145, 265;
man re-born as, 170, 172;
mode of approach, 142, 265, 266;
offerings, 147, 170;
power of incantations over, 171;
possesses man, 147;
provides man with food, 148, 149;
seizes King, 141;
seizes man, 146;
shot, 146;
underground palace, 141;
a demon or evil spirit, 34, 137;
works, 375

Yakō, a form of address, 287

Yaksanī, female Yakā, built palace, 189;
chased man or Prince, 186, 190;
ate corpse, 189, 190;
made Queen, 186;
served Prince, 189

Yaksa Vedarāla, practitioner against demons, 147, 171

Yasalālaka-Tissa, K., deposition, 153

Youth accompanied by young animals, 297–300;
cheats monk, 320;
tom-tom beaters, 109–111;
washerman, 321;
four tasks given, 296–298

Youth, foolish, and gruel, 320;
and monk, 320;
burns house, 108;
kills fly on mother’s head, 319;
throws sticks into river, 108, 319

Yugas, four, 49

Butler & Tanner The Selwood Printing Works Frome and London

Colophon

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Metadata

Title: | Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon; Volume I |
Author: | Henry Parker (1849–) | Info
Language: | English |
Original publication date: | 1910 |
Keywords: | Sinhalese Tales |
Library of Congress: | 23015132 |
Open Library (Book): | OL23405355M |
Open Library (Work): | OL12415901W |

Revision History

- 2018-02-15 Started.

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Corrections

The following corrections have been applied to the text:

Page | Source | Correction | Edit distance
10 | verandah | veranda | 1
27 | Ratēmahatmayā | Raṭēmahatmayā | 1 / 0
34, 34, 34, 34, 34, 64, 65, 239 | Vaedda | Vaeddā | 1 / 0
45 | VAEDDAS | VAEDDĀS | 1 / 0
53 | eld | held | 1
54, 73, 75, 77, 79, 82, 83, 100, 101, 104, 108, 113, 258, 273, 285, 287, 306, 339, 395 | [Not in source] | , | 1
54, 385 | [Not in source] | ; | 1
55 | [Not in source] | ’ | 1
55 | ’?’ | ?” | 2
80 | should’nt | shouldn’t | 2
92 | jogī | jōgī | 1 / 0
97 | Brāmaṇa | Brāhmaṇa | 1
105 | fields | field | 1
105 | . | , | 1
109 | dismisssed | dismissed | 1
124 | ” | ’ | 1
151 | Raja | Rāja | 1 / 0
151 | Raṭēmahatmaya | Raṭēmahatmayā | 1 / 0
165, 188, 287 | . | ? | 1
167 | Rishi | Ṛishi | 1 / 0
167 | ‘ | “ | 1
174 | [Not in source] | ” | 1
185 | After-words | Afterwards | 2
197 | [Not in source] | . | 1
207 | Kujja | Kujija | 1
225 | Kinnaras | Kinnarās | 1 / 0
230 | case | care | 1
232, 247, 265, 300, 343 | , | . | 1
240 | live | lives | 1
240, 248 | Hitopadesa | Hitōpadesa | 1 / 0
253 | Kaḍmbāwa | Kaḍambāwa | 1
253 | Puttala m | Puttalam | 1
256 | . | [Deleted] | 1
272 | , | [Deleted] | 1
273 | “ | [Deleted] | 1
275 | Rakshasī | Rākshasī | 1 / 0
282, 282 | workpeople | work-people | 1
296 | Punci-Ammā | Puñci-Ammā | 1 / 0
306 | kitul | Kitul | 1
313 | ’ | ” | 1
319 | greul | gruel | 2
351 | Upāsaka | Upāsakā | 1 / 0
352 | Varian t | Variant | 1
369 | Perẹlibāse | Pereḷibāse | 2 / 0
387 | Gama-gāeni | Gama-gāēni | 1 / 0
390 | Maccocalingae | Maccocalingæ | 2
390 | Modogalingae | Modogalingæ | 2
391 | Pātaliputta | Pāṭaliputta | 1 / 0
393, 393 | ; | , | 1

Abbreviations

Overview of abbreviations used.

Abbreviation | Expansion
V.P. | Vishnu Purāna

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Table of Contents

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

- Note.

Part I STORIES TOLD BY THE CULTIVATING CASTE AND VAEDDĀS.

No. 1 The Making of the Great Earth
No. 2 The Sun, the Moon, and Great Paddy
No. 3 The Story of Senasurā1
No. 4 The Glass Princess
No. 5 The Frog Prince
No. 6 The Millet Trader
No. 7 The Turtle Dove
No. 8 The Prince and the Princess
No. 9 Tamarind Ṭikkā
No. 10 Mātalangē Loku-Appu
No. 11 The White Turtle
No. 12 The Black Storks’ Girl
No. 13 The Golden Kaekiri Fruit
No. 14 The Four Deaf Persons
No. 15 The Prince and the Yakā
No. 16 How a Yakā and a Man fought
No. 17 Concerning a Man and Two Yakās

No. 18 The Three Questions1

- The Four Difficult Questions.

No. 19 The Faithless Princess
No. 20 The Prince who did not go to School
No. 21 Nagul-Munnā
No. 22 The Kulē-bakā Flowers
No. 23 Kurulu-gama Appu, the Sooth-sayer

No. 24 How a Prince was chased by a Yaksanī, and what befel

No. 25 The Wicked King
No. 26 The Kitul Seeds
No. 27 The Speaking Horse
No. 28 The Female Quail
No. 29 The Pied Robin
No. 30 The Jackal and the Hare
No. 31 The Leopard and the Mouse-deer
No. 32 The Crocodile’s Wedding
No. 33 The Gamarāla’s Cakes
No. 34 The Kinnarā and the Parrots
No. 35 How a Jackal settled a Lawsuit.
No. 36 The Jackal and the Turtle
No. 37 The Lion and the Turtle

Part II STORIES TOLD OF OR BY THE LOWER CASTES

No. 38 The Monkey and the Weaver-bird
No. 39 The Jackal Dēvatāwā
No. 40 A Kaḍambāwa Man’s Journey to Puttalam
No. 41 The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Hares
No. 42 The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Mouse-deer
No. 43 The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Bush

No. 44 How the Kaḍambāwa Men counted Themselves

No. 45 The Kaḍambāwa Men and the Dream
No. 46 The Four Tom-tom Beaters
No. 47 The Golden Tree
No. 48 The Seven Princesses
No. 49 Mr. Janel Siññā
No. 50 The Nikini Story1
No. 51 The Aet-kanda Lēniyā1
No. 52 The Wimalī Story
No. 53 The Pots of Oil
No. 54 The Mouse Maiden1
No. 55 Sīgiris Siññō, the Giant
No. 56 The Proud Jackal

STORIES OF THE DURAYĀS No. 57 The Seven Robbers

No. 58 The Stupid Boy

No. 59 The Gamarāla and the Washerman

- THE DEVIL AND THE HUSBANDMAN

- The Gamarāla and the Washerman. (Variant.)

No. 60 The Two Thieves
No. 61 The Margōsa Tree
No. 62 The Gamarāla’s Foolish Son
No. 63 The Jackal’s Judgment

No. 64 The Heron and the Crab

- The Pond Heron. (Variant.)

- The Pond Heron. (Variant.)

No. 65 The Jackal and the Brāhmaṇa

No. 66 The Cat who guarded the Precepts

- How the Cat became an Upāsakā.6 (Variant.)

- How the Cat performed Bell Worship. (Variant.)

No. 67 The Lizard and the Leopard

No. 68 The Lion and the Jackal

- How the Jackal Cheated the Lion. (Variant.)

STORIES OF THE ROḌIYĀS No. 69 The Roll of Cotton

No. 70 The Jackal and the Leopard
No. 71 How the Boars killed the Rākshasa
No. 72 The Grateful Jackal

STORIES OF THE KINNARĀS No. 73 Concerning a Monk and a Yakā

No. 74 The Three Suitors
No. 75 The Crocodile and the Jackal
INDEX

Colophon

- Availability
- Metadata
- Revision History
- External References
- Corrections
- Abbreviations

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE