[Japanese Fairy Tale] THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW

Long, long ago in Japan there lived an old man and his wife. The old man was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working old fellow, but his wife was a regular cross-patch, who spoiled the happiness of her home by her scolding tongue. She was always grumbling about something from morning to night. The old man had for a long time ceased to take any notice of her crossness. He was out most of the day at work in the fields, and as he had no child, for his amusement when he came home, he kept a tame sparrow. He loved the little bird just as much as if she had been his child.

When he came back at night after his hard day's work in the open air it was his only pleasure to pet the sparrow, to talk to her and to teach her little tricks, which she learned very quickly. The old man would open her cage and let her fly about the room, and they would play together. Then when supper-time came, he always saved some tit-bits from his meal with which to feed his little bird.

Now one day the old man went out to chop wood in the forest, and the old woman stopped at home to wash clothes. The day before, she had made some starch, and now when she came to look for it, it was all gone; the bowl which she had filled full yesterday was quite empty.

While she was wondering who could have used or stolen the starch, down flew the pet sparrow, and bowing her little feathered head--a trick which she had been taught by her master - the pretty bird chirped and said:

"It is I who have taken the starch. I thought it was some food put out for me in that basin, and I ate it all. If I have made a mistake I beg you to forgive me! tweet, tweet, tweet!"

You see from this that the sparrow was a truthful bird, and the old woman ought to have been willing to forgive her at once when she asked her pardon so nicely. But not so.

The old woman had never loved the sparrow, and had often quarreled with her husband for keeping what she called a dirty bird about the house, saying that it only made extra work for her. Now she was only too delighted to have some cause of complaint against the pet. She scolded and even cursed the poor little bird for her bad behavior, and not content with using these harsh, unfeeling words, in a fit of rage she seized the sparrow--who all this time had spread out her wings and bowed her head before the old woman, to show how sorry she was - and fetched the scissors and cut off the poor little bird's tongue.

"I suppose you took my starch with that tongue! Now you may see what it is like to go without it!" And with these dreadful words she drove the bird away, not caring in the least what might happen to it and without the smallest pity for its suffering, so unkind was she!

The old woman, after she had driven the sparrow away, made some more rice-paste, grumbling all the time at the trouble, and after starching all her clothes, spread the things on boards to dry in the sun, instead of ironing them as they do in England.

In the evening the old man came home. As usual, on the way back he looked forward to the time when he should reach his gate and see his pet come flying and chirping to meet him, ruffling out her feathers to show her joy, and at last coming to rest on his shoulder. But to-night the old man was very disappointed, for not even the shadow of his dear sparrow was to be seen.

He quickened his steps, hastily drew off his straw sandals, and stepped on to the veranda. Still no sparrow was to be seen. He now felt sure that his wife, in one of her cross tempers, had shut the sparrow up in its cage. So he called her and said anxiously:

"Where is Suzume-san (Miss Sparrow) today?"

The old woman pretended not to know at first, and answered: "Your sparrow? I am sure I don't know. Now I come to think of it, I haven't seen her all the afternoon. I shouldn't wonder if the ungrateful bird had flown away and left you after all your petting!"

But at last, when the old man gave her no peace, but asked her again and again, insisting that she must know what had happened to his pet, she confessed all. She told him crossly how the sparrow had eaten the rice-paste she had specially made for starching her clothes, and how when the sparrow had confessed to what she had done, in great anger she had taken her scissors and cut out her tongue, and how finally she had driven the bird away and forbidden her to return to the house again.

Then the old woman showed her husband the sparrow's tongue, saying: "Here is the tongue I cut off! Horrid little bird, why did it eat all my starch?"

"How could you be so cruel? Oh! how could you so cruel?" was all that the old man could answer. He was too kind-hearted to punish his be shrew of a wife, but he was terribly distressed at what had happened to his poor little sparrow.

"What a dreadful misfortune for my poor Suzume San to lose her tongue!" he said to himself. "She won't be able to chirp any more, and surely the pain of the cutting of it out in that rough way must have made her ill! Is there nothing to be done?"

The old man shed many tears after his cross wife had gone to sleep. While he wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his cotton robe, a bright thought comforted him: he would go and look for the sparrow on the morrow. Having decided this he was able to go to sleep at last.

The next morning he rose early, as soon as ever the day broke, and snatching a hasty breakfast, started out over the hills and through the woods, stopping at every clump of bamboos to cry: "Where, oh where does my tongue-cut sparrow stay? Where, oh where, does my tongue-cut sparrow stay!"

He never stopped to rest for his noonday meal, and it was far on in the afternoon when he found himself near a large bamboo wood. Bamboo groves are the favorite haunts of sparrows, and there sure enough at the edge of the wood he saw his own dear sparrow waiting to welcome him. He could hardly believe his eyes for joy, and ran forward quickly to greet her. She bowed her little head and went through a number of the tricks her master had taught her, to show her pleasure at seeing her old
friend again, and, wonderful to relate, she could talk as of old. The old man told her how sorry he was for all that had happened, and inquired after her tongue, wondering how she could speak so well
without it. Then the sparrow opened her beak and showed him that a new tongue had grown in place of the old one, and begged him not to think any more about the past, for she was quite well now. Then the old man knew that his sparrow was a fairy, and no common bird. It would be difficult to exaggerate the old man's rejoicing now. He forgot all his troubles, he forgot even how tired he was, for he had found his lost sparrow, and instead of being ill and without a tongue as he had feared and expected to find her, she was well and happy and with a new tongue, and without a sign of the ill-treatment she had received from his wife. And above all she was a fairy.

The sparrow asked him to follow her, and flying before him she led him to a beautiful house in the heart of the bamboo grove. The old man was utterly astonished when he entered the house to find what a beautiful place it was. It was built of the whitest wood, the soft cream-colored mats which took the place of carpets were the finest he had ever seen, and the cushions that the sparrow brought out for him to sit on were made of the finest silk and crape. Beautiful vases and lacquer boxes adorned the tokonoma [an alcove where precious objects are displayed] of every room.

The sparrow led the old man to the place of honor, and then, taking her place at a humble distance, she thanked him with many polite bows for all the kindness he had shown her for many long years.

Then the Lady Sparrow, as we will now call her, introduced all her family to the old man. This done, her daughters, robed in dainty crape gowns, brought in on beautiful old-fashioned trays a feast of all kinds of delicious foods, till the old man began to think he must be dreaming. In the middle of the dinner some of the sparrow's daughters performed a wonderful dance, called the "suzume-odori" [ the "Sparrow's dance"] to amuse the guest.

Never had the old man enjoyed himself so much. The hours flew by too quickly in this lovely spot, with all these fairy sparrows to wait upon him and to feast him and to dance before him.

But the night came on and the darkness reminded him that he had a long way to go and must think about taking his leave and return home. He thanked his kind hostess for her splendid entertainment, and begged her for his sake to forget all she had suffered at the hands of his cross old wife. He told the Lady Sparrow that it was a great comfort and happiness to him to find her in such a beautiful home and to know that she wanted for nothing. It was his anxiety to know how she fared and what had really happened to her that had led him to seek her. Now he knew that all was well he could return home with a light heart. If ever she wanted him for anything she had only to send for him and he would come at once.

The Lady Sparrow begged him to stay and rest several days and enjoy the change, but the old man said he must return to his old wife--who would probably be cross at his not coming home at the usual time--and to his work, and there-fore, much as he wished to do so, he could not accept her kind invitation. But now that he knew where the Lady Sparrow lived he would come to see her whenever he had the time.

When the Lady Sparrow saw that she could not persuade the old man to stay longer, she gave an order to some of her servants, and they at once brought in two boxes, one large and the other small. These were placed before the old man, and the Lady Sparrow asked him to choose whichever he liked for a present, which she wished to give him.

The old man could not refuse this kind proposal, and he chose the smaller box, saying: "I am now too old and feeble to carry the big and heavy box. As you are so kind as to say that I may take whichever I like, I will choose the small one, which will be easier for me to carry."

Then the sparrows all helped him put it on his back and went to the gate to see him off, bidding him good-by with many bows and entreating him to come again whenever he had the time. Thus the old man and his pet sparrow separated quite happily, the sparrow showing not the least ill-will for all the unkindness she had suffered at the hands of the old wife. Indeed, she only felt sorrow for the old man who had to put up with it all his life.

When the old man reached home he found his wife even crosser than usual, for it was late on in the night and she had been waiting up for him for a long time.

"Where have you been all this time?" she asked in a big voice. "Why do you come back so late?"

The old man tried to pacify her by showing her the box of presents he had brought back with him, and then he told her of all that had happened to him, and how wonderfully he had been entertained at the sparrow's house.

"Now let us see what is in the box," said the old man, not giving her time to grumble again. "You must help me open it." And they both sat down before the box and opened it.

To their utter astonishment they found the box filled to the brim with gold and silver coins and many other precious things. The mats of their little cottage fairly glittered as they took out the things one by one and put them down and handled them over and over again. The old man was overjoyed at the sight of the riches that were now his. Beyond his brightest expectations was the sparrow's gift, which would enable him to give up work and live in ease and comfort the rest of his days.

He said: "Thanks to my good little sparrow! Thanks to my good little sparrow!" many times.

But the old woman, after the first moments of surprise and satisfaction at the sight of the gold and silver were over, could not suppress the greed of her wicked nature. She now began to reproach the old man for not having brought home the big box of presents, for in the innocence of his heart he had told her how he had refused the large box of presents which the sparrows had offered him, preferring the smaller one because it was light and easy to carry home.

"You silly old man," said she, "Why did you not bring the large box? Just think what we have lost. We might have had twice as much silver and gold as this. You are certainly an old fool!" she screamed, and then went to bed as angry as she could be.

The old man now wished that he had said nothing about the big box, but it was too late; the greedy old woman, not contented with the good luck which had so unexpectedly befallen them and which she so little deserved, made up her mind, if possible, to get more.

Early the next morning she got up and made the old man describe the way to the sparrow's house. When he saw what was in her mind he tried to keep her from going, but it was useless. She would not listen to one word he said. It is strange that the old woman did not feel ashamed of going to see the sparrow after the cruel way she had treated her in cutting off her tongue in a fit of rage. But her greed to get the big box made her forget everything else. It did not even enter her thoughts that the sparrows might be angry with her - as, indeed, they were - and might punish her for what she had done.

Ever since the Lady Sparrow had returned home in the sad plight in which they had first found her, weeping and bleeding from the mouth, her whole family and relations had done little else but speak of the cruelty of the old woman. "How could she," they asked each other, "inflict such a heavy punishment for such a trifling offense as that of eating some rice-paste by mistake?" They all loved the old man who was so kind and good and patient under all his troubles, but the old woman they hated, and they determined, if ever they had the chance, to punish her as she deserved. They had not long to wait.

After walking for some hours the old woman had at last found the bamboo grove which she had made her husband carefully describe, and now she stood before it crying out:

"Where is the tongue-cut sparrow's house? Where is the tongue-cut sparrow's house?"

At last she saw the eaves of the house peeping out from amongst the bamboo foliage. She hastened to the door and knocked loudly.

When the servants told the Lady Sparrow that her old mistress was at the door asking to see her, she was somewhat surprised at the unexpected visit, after all that had taken place, and she wondered not a little at the boldness of the old woman in venturing to come to the house. The Lady Sparrow, however, was a polite bird, and so she went out to greet the old woman, remembering that she had once been her mistress.

The old woman intended, however, to waste no time in words, she went right to the point, without the least shame, and said: "You need not trouble to entertain me as you did my old man. I have come myself to get the box which he so stupidly left behind. I shall soon take my leave if you will give me the big box--that is all I want!"

The Lady Sparrow at once consented, and told her servants to bring out the big box. The old woman eagerly seized it and hoisted it on her back, and without even stopping to thank the Lady Sparrow began to hurry homewards.

The box was so heavy that she could not walk fast, much less run, as she would have liked to do, so anxious was she to get home and see what was inside the box, but she had often to sit down and rest herself by the way.

While she was staggering along under the heavy load, her desire to open the box became too great to be resisted. She could wait no longer, for she supposed this big box to be full of gold and silver and precious jewels like the small one her husband had received.

At last this greedy and selfish old woman put down the box by the wayside and opened it carefully, expecting to gloat her eyes on a mine of wealth. What she saw, however, so terrified her that she nearly lost her senses. As soon as she lifted the lid, a number of horrible and frightful looking demons bounced out of the box and surrounded her as if they intended to kill her. Not even in nightmares had she ever seen such horrible creatures as her much-coveted box contained. A demon with one huge eye right in the middle of its forehead came and glared at her, monsters with gaping mouths looked as if they would devour her, a huge snake coiled and hissed about her, and a big frog hopped and croaked towards her.

The old woman had never been so frightened in her life, and ran from the spot as fast as her quaking legs would carry her, glad to escape alive. When she reached home she fell to the floor and told her husband with tears all that had happened to her, and how she had been nearly killed by the demons in the box.

Then she began to blame the sparrow, but the old man stopped her at once, saying: "Don't blame the sparrow, it is your wickedness which has at last met with its reward. I only hope this may be a lesson to you in the future!"

The old woman said nothing more, and from that day she repented of her cross, unkind ways, and by degrees became a good old woman, so that her husband hardly knew her to be the same person, and they spent their last days together happily, free from want or care, spending carefully the treasure the old man had received from his pet, the tongue-cut sparrow.

HANSEL AND GRETEL

Near the borders of a large forest dwelt in olden times a poor
wood-cutter, who had two children--a boy named Hansel, and his sister,
Grethel. They had very little to live upon, and once when there was a
dreadful season of scarcity in the land, the poor wood-cutter could not
earn sufficient to supply their daily food.

One evening, after the children were gone to bed, the parents sat
talking together over their sorrow, and the poor husband sighed, and
said to his wife, who was not the mother of his children, but their
stepmother, "What will become of us, for I cannot earn enough to support
myself and you, much less the children? what shall we do with them, for
they must not starve?"

"I know what to do, husband," she replied; "early to-morrow morning we
will take the children for a walk across the forest and leave them in
the thickest part; they will never find the way home again, you may
depend, and then we shall only have to work for ourselves."

"No, wife," said the man, "that I will never do. How could I have the
heart to leave my children all alone in the wood, where the wild beasts
would come quickly and devour them?"

"Oh, you fool," replied the stepmother, "if you refuse to do this, you
know we must all four perish with hunger; you may as well go and cut the
wood for our coffins." And after this she let him have no peace till he
became quite worn out, and could not sleep for hours, but lay thinking
in sorrow about his children.

The two children, who also were too hungry to sleep, heard all that
their stepmother had said to their father. Poor little Grethel wept
bitter tears as she listened, and said to her brother, "What is going to
happen to us, Hansel?"

"Hush, Grethel," he whispered, "don't be so unhappy; I know what to do."

Then they lay quite still till their parents were asleep.

As soon as it was quiet, Hansel got up, put on his little coat,
unfastened the door, and slipped out The moon shone brightly, and the
white pebble stones which lay before the cottage door glistened like new
silver money. Hansel stooped and picked up as many of the pebbles as he
could stuff in his little coat pockets. He then went back to Grethel and
said, "Be comforted, dear little sister, and sleep in peace; heaven will
take care of us." Then he laid himself down again in bed, and slept till
the day broke.

As soon as the sun was risen, the stepmother came and woke the two
children, and said, "Get up, you lazy bones, and come into the wood with
me to gather wood for the fire." Then she gave each of them a piece of
bread, and said, "You must keep that to eat for your dinner, and don't
quarrel over it, for you will get nothing more."

Grethel took the bread under her charge, for Hansel's pockets were full
of pebbles. Then the stepmother led them a long way into the forest.
They had gone but a very short distance when Hansel looked back at the
house, and this he did again and again.

At last his stepmother said, "Why do you keep staying behind and looking
back so?"

"Oh, mother," said the boy, "I can see my little white cat sitting on
the roof of the house, and I am sure she is crying for me."

"Nonsense," she replied; "that is not your cat; it is the morning sun
shining on the chimney-pot."

Hansel had seen no cat, but he stayed behind every time to drop a white
pebble from his pocket on the ground as they walked.

As soon as they reached a thick part of the wood, their stepmother said:

"Come, children, gather some wood, and I will make a fire, for it is
very cold here."

Then Hansel and Grethel raised quite a high heap of brushwood and
faggots, which soon blazed up into a bright fire, and the woman said to
them:

"Sit down here, children, and rest, while I go and find your father, who
is cutting wood in the forest; when we have finished our work, we will
come again and fetch you."

Hansel and Grethel seated themselves by the fire, and when noon arrived
they each ate the piece of bread which their stepmother had given them
for their dinner; and as long as they heard the strokes of the axe they
felt safe, for they believed that their father was working near them.
But it was not an axe they heard--only a branch which still hung on a
withered tree, and was moved up and down by the wind. At last, when they
had been sitting there a long time, the children's eyes became heavy
with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke it was dark
night, and poor Grethel began to cry, and said, "Oh, how shall we get
out of the wood?"

But Hansel comforted her. "Don't fear," he said; "let us wait a little
while till the moon rises, and then we shall easily find our way home."

Very soon the full moon rose, and then Hansel took his little sister by
the hand, and the white pebble stones, which glittered like newly-coined
money in the moonlight, and which Hansel had dropped as he walked,
pointed out the way. They walked all the night through, and did not
reach their father's house till break of day.

They knocked at the door, and when their stepmother opened it, she
exclaimed: "You naughty children, why have you been staying so long in
the forest? we thought you were never coming back," But their father was
overjoyed to see them, for it grieved him to the heart to think that
they had been left alone in the wood.

Not long after this there came another time of scarcity and want in
every house, and the children heard their stepmother talking after they
were in bed. "The times are as bad as ever," she said; "we have just
half a loaf left, and when that is gone all love will be at an end. The
children must go away; we will take them deeper into the forest this
time, and they will not be able to find their way home as they did
before; it is the only plan to save ourselves from starvation." But the
husband felt heavy at heart, for he thought it was better to share the
last morsel with his children.

His wife would listen to nothing he said, but continued to reproach him,
and as he had given way to her the first time, he could not refuse to do
so now. The children were awake, and heard all the conversation; so, as
soon as their parents slept, Hansel got up, intending to go out and
gather some more of the bright pebbles to let fall as he walked, that
they might point out the way home; but his stepmother had locked the
door, and he could not open it. When he went back to his bed he told his
little sister not to fret, but to go to sleep in peace, for he was sure
they would be taken care of.

Early the next morning the stepmother came and pulled the children out
of bed, and, when they were dressed, gave them each a piece of bread for
their dinners, smaller than they had had before, and then they started
on their way to the wood.

As they walked, Hansel, who had the bread in his pocket, broke off
little crumbs, and stopped every now and then to drop one, turning round
as if he was looking back at his home.

"Hansel," said the woman, "what are you stopping for in that way? Come
along directly."

"I saw my pigeon sitting on the roof, and he wants to say good-bye to
me," replied the boy.

"Nonsense," she said; "that is not your pigeon; it is only the morning
sun shining on the chimney-top."

But Hansel did not look back any more; he only dropped pieces of bread
behind him, as they walked through the wood. This time they went on till
they reached the thickest and densest part of the forest, where they had
never been before in all their lives. Again they gathered faggots and
brushwood, of which the stepmother made up a large fire. Then she said,
"Remain here, children, and rest, while I go to help your father, who is
cutting wood in the forest; when you feel tired, you can lie down and
sleep for a little while, and we will come and fetch you in the evening,
when your father has finished his work."

So the children remained alone till mid-day, and then Grethel shared her
piece of bread with Hansel, for he had scattered his own all along the
road as they walked. After this they slept for awhile, and the evening
drew on; but no one came to fetch the poor children. When they awoke it
was quite dark, and poor little Grethel was afraid; but Hansel comforted
her, as he had done before, by telling her they need only wait till the
moon rose. "You know, little sister," he said, "that I have thrown
breadcrumbs all along the road we came, and they will easily point out
the way home."

But when they went out of the thicket into the moonlight they found no
breadcrumbs, for the numerous birds which inhabited the trees of the
forest had picked them all up.

Hansel tried to hide his fear when he made this sad discovery, and said
to his sister, "Cheer up, Grethel; I dare say we shall find our way home
without the crumbs. Let us try." But this they found impossible. They
wandered about the whole night, and the next day from morning till
evening; but they could not get out of the wood, and were so hungry that
had it not been for a few berries which they picked they must have
starved.

At last they were so tired that their poor little legs could carry them
no farther; so they laid themselves down under a tree and went to sleep.
When they awoke it was the third morning since they had left their
father's house, and they determined to try once more to find their way
home; but it was no use, they only went still deeper into the wood, and
knew that if no help came they must starve.

About noon, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on the branch
of a tree, and singing so beautifully that they stood still to listen.
When he had finished his song, he spread out his wings and flew on
before them. The children followed him, till at last they saw at a
distance a small house; and the bird flew and perched on the roof.

But how surprised were the boy and girl, when they came nearer, to find
that the house was built of gingerbread, and ornamented with sweet cakes
and tarts, while the window was formed of barley-sugar. "Oh!" exclaimed
Hansel, "let us stop here and have a splendid feast. I will have a piece
from the roof first, Grethel; and you can eat some of the barley-sugar
window, it tastes so nice." Hansel reached up on tiptoe, and breaking
off a piece of the gingerbread, he began to eat with all his might, for
he was very hungry. Grethel seated herself on the doorstep, and began
munching away at the cakes of which it was made. Presently a voice came
out of the cottage:

  "Munching, crunching, munching,
   Who's eating up my house?"

Then answered the children:

    "The wind, the wind,
     Only the wind,"

and went on eating as if they never meant to leave off, without a
suspicion of wrong. Hansel, who found the cake on the roof taste very
good, broke off another large piece, and Grethel had just taken out a
whole pane of barley-sugar from the window, and seated herself to eat
it, when the door opened, and a strange-looking old woman came out
leaning on a stick.

Hansel and Grethel were so frightened that they let fall what they held
in their hands. The old woman shook her head at them, and said, "Ah, you
dear children, who has brought you here? Come in, and stay with me for a
little while, and there shall no harm happen to you." She seized them
both by the hands as she spoke, and led them into the house. She gave
them for supper plenty to eat and drink--milk and pancakes and sugar,
apples and nuts; and when evening came, Hansel and Grethel were shown
two beautiful little beds with white curtains, and they lay down in them
and thought they were in heaven.

But although the old woman pretended to be friendly, she was a wicked
witch, who had her house built of gingerbread on purpose to entrap
children. When once they were in her power, she would feed them well
till they got fat, and then kill them and cook them for her dinner; and
this she called her feast-day. Fortunately the witch had weak eyes, and
could not see very well; but she had a very keen scent, as wild animals
have, and could easily discover when human beings were near. As Hansel
and Grethel had approached her cottage, she laughed to herself
maliciously, and said, with a sneer: "I have them now; they shall not
escape from me again!"

Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she was up,
standing by their beds; and when she saw how beautiful they looked in
their sleep, with their round rosy cheeks, she muttered to herself,
"What nice tit-bits they will be!" Then she laid hold of Hansel with her
rough hand, dragged him out of bed, and led him to a little cage which
had a lattice-door, and shut him in; he might scream as much as he
would, but it was all useless.

After this she went back to Grethel, and, shaking her roughly till she
woke, cried: "Get up, you lazy hussy, and draw some water, that I may
boil something good for your brother, who is shut up in a cage outside
till he gets fat; and then I shall cook him and eat him!" When Grethel
heard this she began to cry bitterly; but it was all useless, she was
obliged to do as the wicked witch told her.

For poor Hansel's breakfast the best of everything was cooked; but
Grethel had nothing for herself but a crab's claw. Every morning the old
woman would go out to the little cage, and say: "Hansel, stick out your
finger, that I may feel if you are fat enough for eating." But Hansel,
who knew how dim her old eyes were, always stuck a bone through the bars
of his cage, which she thought was his finger, for she could not see;
and when she felt how thin it was, she wondered very much why he did not
get fat.

However, as the weeks went on, and Hansel seemed not to get any fatter,
she became impatient, and said she could not wait any longer. "Go,
Grethel," she cried to the maiden, "be quick and draw water; Hansel may
be fat or lean, I don't care, to-morrow morning I mean to kill him, and
cook him!"

Oh! how the poor little sister grieved when she was forced to draw the
water; and, as the tears rolled down her cheeks, she exclaimed: "It
would have been better to be eaten by wild beasts, or to have been
starved to death in the woods; then we should have died together!"

"Stop your crying!" cried the old woman; "it is not of the least use, no
one will come to help you."

Early in the morning Grethel was obliged to go out and fill the great
pot with water, and hang it over the fire to boil. As soon as this was
done, the old woman said, "We will bake some bread first; I have made
the oven hot, and the dough is already kneaded." Then she dragged poor
little Grethel up to the oven door, under which the flames were burning
fiercely, and said: "Creep in there, and see if it is hot enough yet to
bake the bread." But if Grethel had obeyed her, she would have shut the
poor child in and baked her for dinner, instead of boiling Hansel.

Grethel, however, guessed what she wanted to do, and said, "I don't know
how to get in through that narrow door."

"Stupid goose," said the old woman, "why, the oven door is quite large
enough for me; just look, I could get in myself." As she spoke she
stepped forward and pretended to put her head in the oven.

A sudden thought gave Grethel unusual strength; she started forward,
gave the old woman a push which sent her right into the oven, then she
shut the iron door and fastened the bolt.

Oh! how the old witch did howl, it was quite horrible to hear her. But
Grethel ran away, and therefore she was left to burn, just as she had
left many poor little children to burn. And how quickly Grethel ran to
Hansel, opened the door of his cage, and cried, "Hansel, Hansel, we are
free; the old witch is dead." He flew like a bird out of his cage at
these words as soon as the door was opened, and the children were so
overjoyed that they ran into each other's arms, and kissed each other
with the greatest love.

And now that there was nothing to be afraid of, they went back into the
house, and while looking round the old witch's room, they saw an old oak
chest, which they opened, and found it full of pearls and precious
stones. "These are better than pebbles," said Hansel; and he filled his
pockets as full as they would hold.

"I will carry some home too," said Grethel, and she held out her apron,
which held quite as much as Hansel's pockets.

"We will go now," he said, "and get away as soon as we can from this
enchanted forest."

They had been walking for nearly two hours when they came to a large
sheet of water.

"What shall we do now?" said the boy. "We cannot get across, and there
is no bridge of any sort."

"Oh! here comes a boat," cried Grethel, but she was mistaken; it was
only a white duck which came swimming towards the children. "Perhaps she
will help us across if we ask her," said the child; and she sung,
"Little duck, do help poor Hansel and Grethel; there is not a bridge,
nor a boat--will you let us sail across on your white back?"

The good-natured duck came near the bank as Grethel spoke, so close
indeed that Hansel could seat himself and wanted to take his little
sister on his lap, but she said, "No, we shall be too heavy for the kind
duck; let her take us over one at a time."

The good creature did as the children wished; she carried Grethel over
first, and then came back for Hansel. And then how happy the children
were to find themselves in a part of the wood which they remembered
quite well, and as they walked on, the more familiar it became, till at
last they caught sight of their father's house. Then they began to run,
and, bursting into the room, threw themselves into their father's arms.

Poor man, he had not had a moment's peace since the children had been
left alone in the forest; he was full of joy at finding them safe and
well again, and now they had nothing to fear, for their wicked
stepmother was dead.

But how surprised the poor wood-cutter was when Grethel opened and shook
her little apron to see the glittering pearls and precious stones
scattered about the room, while Hansel drew handful after handful from
his pockets. From this moment all his care and sorrow was at an end, and
the father lived in happiness with his children till his death.

[Chinese Folklore] KWANG-JUI AND THE GOD OF THE RIVER

China is a land where the great masses of the people have to toil and
struggle incessantly in order to obtain even the bare necessities of
daily existence.  Unnumbered multitudes never enjoy a sufficiency of
food, but have to be contented with whatever Heaven may send them; and
profoundly thankful they are when they can be sure of two meals a day
to stave off the pangs of hunger from themselves and their children.

How many there are who cannot by the severest toil obtain even these
two meals is evident from the organized beggar communities, which are
to be found in connection with every great city in the Empire, and from
the vast numbers of tramps, who wander over the country on the highways
and byways with pale and sodden faces and with garments nearly falling
to pieces, picking up a scanty livelihood from the benevolent as they
pass from village to village.

Whatever may be their inmost thoughts, the Chinese bear their terrible
hardships and privations with a splendid heroism, with little
complaining, with no widespread outbreaks of robbery, and with no
pillaging of rice-shops and public granaries by organized mobs driven
mad by hunger.

There is one beautiful feature about the Chinese that has been an
important factor in steadying the nation.  They are imbued with at
least one great ideal, which touches their common life in every
direction.  Every man in the Empire, rich or poor, learned or
unlearned, has a profound respect for what he calls Tien-Li, or Divine
Righteousness.  By this the Chinese judge all actions.  It is the
standard by which Kings and Princes and common people direct their
conduct, whether in the highest affairs of state, or in the ordinary
engagements of common every-day life.

In addition to this, the minds of the Chinese are filled with romance
and poetry, so that to them the invisible world is peopled with fairies
and all kinds of spirits, both good and bad, the former relieving in
mysterious ways the dull greyness that sorrow and disaster often shed
upon the lives of men.

The story of Kwang-Jui is a remarkable evidence of the unbounded faith
which the Chinese have in the intervention of these mysterious beings
to deliver men from calamities which would otherwise prove fatal to
them.

When we first meet with Kwang-Jui, he is living with his widowed mother
in a retired part of the country.  His father had been dead for some
time, and Kwang-Jui was now the only one upon whom the fortunes of the
home could be built.  He was a very studious lad, and was possessed of
remarkable abilities, the result being that he successfully passed the
various Imperial Examinations, even the final one in the capital, where
the Sovereign himself presided as examiner.

After this last examination, as the men were waiting outside the Hall
for the names of those who had satisfied the Emperor to be read out a
considerable crowd had collected.  Most of these people had come from
mere curiosity to see the Imperial Edict, and to discover who the
scholar was that stood first on the list.  The excitement was intense,
and speculation ran rife as to which of the candidates, who had come
from almost every province in the Empire, was going to obtain the place
of honour which was the dream and the ambition of every scholar in the
land.

At last every breath was hushed, and every voice stilled in silence, as
one of the high officials of the Palace, attended by an imposing
retinue, came out of the great central doors, which had been flung wide
open at his approach.  In a clear voice he began to read the list.  It
was headed by the name of Kwang-Jui.

At this precise moment occurred an incident which was destined to
change the whole current of Kwang-Jui's career.  As he was standing
overcome with emotion in consequence of the supreme honour which had
been conferred upon him by the Emperor's Edict, a small round ball,
beautifully embroidered, was thrown from an upper window of a house
across the way, and struck him on the shoulder.

It may here be explained that it was a custom in the early days of the
history of China to allow any young maiden who was reluctant to have
her husband chosen for her by her parents, to make use of what was
called "The throwing of the embroidered ball" in order to discover the
man whom the gods intended her to marry.  This ball was made of some
soft material, wrapped round with a piece of red silk which was covered
with variegated figures, worked by the damsel's own hands and
emblematic of the love by which the hearts of husband and wife are
bound indissolubly to each other.  It was firmly believed by every
maiden of this romantic type that the man who was struck by the ball
from her fair hands was the one whom Heaven had selected as her
husband; and no parent would ever dream of refusing to accept a choice
made in this way.

Whilst Kwang-Jui was gazing in amused wonder at the symbol which he
understood so well, a messenger from the house from which it had been
thrown requested him in respectful tones to accompany him to his
master, who desired to discuss with him a most important subject.

As Kwang-Jui entered the house, he discovered to his astonishment that
it belonged to the Prime Minister, who received him with the utmost
cordiality, and after a long conversation declared that he was prepared
to submit to the will of the gods, and to accept him as his son-in-law.
Kwang-Jui was of course in raptures at the brilliant prospects which
were suddenly opening up before him.  The day, indeed, was a red-letter
one--an omen, he hoped, that fate was preparing to pour down upon him
good fortune in the future.  In one brief day he had been hailed as the
most distinguished scholar in the Empire, and he had also been
acknowledged as the son-in-law of the Empire's greatest official, who
had the power of placing him in high positions where he could secure
not only honours but also wealth sufficient to drive poverty away for
ever from his home.

As there was no reason for delay, the hand of the beautiful daughter
who had thrown the embroidered ball, and who was delighted that Heaven
had chosen for her such a brilliant husband, was bestowed upon him by
her parents.  Times of great rejoicing succeeded, and when Kwang-Jui
thought of the quiet and uninteresting days when he was still unknown
to fame, and contrasted them with his present life, it seemed to him as
though he were living in fairy-land.  His wildest dreams in the past
had never conjured up anything so grand as the life he was now leading.
In one bound he had leaped from comparative poverty to fame and riches.

After a time, through the influence of his father-in-law, and with the
hearty consent of the Emperor, who remembered what a brilliant student
he had been, Kwang-Jui was appointed to be Prefect of an important
district in the centre of China.

Taking his bride with him, he first of all proceeded to his old home,
where his mother was waiting with great anxiety to welcome her now
famous son.  The old lady felt rather nervous at meeting her new
daughter-in-law, seeing that the latter came from a family which was
far higher in rank and far more distinguished than any in her own clan.
As it was very necessary that Kwang-Jui should take up his office as
Prefect without any undue delay, he and his mother and his bride set
out in the course of a few days on the long journey to the distant
Prefecture, where their lives were destined to be marred by sorrow and
disaster.

They had travelled the greater part of the way, and had reached a
country market-town that lay on their route, when Kwang-Jui's mother,
worn out with the toilsome journey, fell suddenly ill.  The doctor who
was called in shook his head and pronounced that she was suffering from
a very serious complaint, which, whilst not necessarily fatal, would
necessitate a complete rest for at least two or three months.  Any
further travelling must therefore be abandoned for the present, as it
might be attended with the most serious consequences to the old lady.

Both husband and wife were greatly distressed at the unlucky accident
which placed them in such an awkward position at this wayside inn.
They were truly grieved at the serious sickness of their mother, but
they were still more puzzled as to what course they should pursue in
these most trying circumstances.  The Imperial Rescript appointing
Kwang-Jui to his office as Prefect commanded him to take up his post on
a certain definite date.  To delay until his mother would again be able
to endure the fatigues of travel was out of the question, as
disobedience to the Emperor's orders would be attended by his grave
displeasure.  Eventually his mother suggested that he and his wife
should go on ahead, and that after taking up the duties of his office
he should then delegate them for a time to his subordinates and return
to take her home.

This advice Kwang-Jui decided to carry out; though with great
reluctance, as he was most unwilling to abandon his mother to the care
of strangers.  He accordingly made all the arrangements he possibly
could for her comfort whilst they were parted from each other; he had
servants engaged to attend upon her, and he left sufficient money with
her to meet all her expenses during his absence.

With a mind full of consideration for his mother, and wishing to show
how anxious he was to give her pleasure, he went out into the market of
the town to see if he could buy a certain kind of fish of which she was
passionately fond.  He had hardly got outside the courtyard of the inn,
when he met a fisherman with a very fine specimen of the very fish that
he wished to purchase.

As he was discussing the price with the man, a certain something about
the fish arrested his attention.  There was a peculiar look in its eyes
that seemed full of pathos and entreaty.  Its gaze was concentrated
upon him, so human-like and with such intensity, that he instinctively
felt it was pleading with him to do something to deliver it from a
great disaster.  This made him look at it more carefully, and to his
astonishment the liquid eyes of the fish were still fixed upon him with
a passionate regard that made him quiver with excitement.

"Fisherman," he said, "I want to buy this fish, and here is the price
that you ask for it.  I have but one stipulation to make, and that is
that you take it to the river from which you caught it, and set it free
to swim away wherever it pleases.  Remember that if you fail to carry
out this part of the bargain, great sorrow will come upon you and your
home."

Little did either of them dream that the fish was the presiding God of
the River, who for purposes of his own had transformed himself into
this form, and who, while swimming up and down the stream had been
caught in the net of the fisherman.

After travelling for some hours Kwang-Jui and his wife came to the bank
of a considerable river, where they hired a large boat to convey them
to their destination.

The boatman they engaged was a man of very low character.  He had
originally been a scholar and of good family, but, utterly depraved and
immoral, he had gradually sunk lower and lower in society, until at
last he had been compelled to fly from his home to a distant province,
and there to engage in his present occupation in order to earn his
living.  The large amount of property which Kwang-Jui had with him
seemed to arouse the worst passions in this man, and while the boat was
being carried along by a fair wind and a flowing tide, he planned in
his mind how he was to become the possessor of it.  By the time that
they reached the place where they were to anchor for the night, he had
already decided what measures he should adopt.

A little after midnight, accordingly, he crept stealthily towards the
place where Kwang-Jui was sleeping, stabbed him to the heart and threw
his body into the fast-flowing river.  He next threatened the wife that
if she dared to utter a sound, he would murder her also and send her to
join her husband in the Land of Shadows.  Paralyzed with terror, she
remained speechless, only a stifled sob and groan now and again
breaking from her agonized heart.  Her first serious idea was to commit
suicide, and she was preparing to fling herself into the water that
gurgled along the sides of the boat, when she was restrained by the
thought that if she destroyed herself, she would never be able to
avenge her husband's death or bring punishment upon the villain who had
just murdered him.

It was not mere robbery, however, that was in the mind of the man who
had committed this great crime.  He had bigger ideas than that.  He had
noticed that in personal appearance he very much resembled his victim,
so he determined to carry out the daring project of passing himself off
as Kwang-Jui, the mandarin whom the Emperor had despatched to take up
the appointment of Prefect.

Having threatened the widow that instant death would be her portion if
she breathed a word to anyone about the true state of the case, and
having arrayed himself in the official robes of the man whom he had
stabbed to death, the boatman appeared at the yamen, where he presented
the Imperial credentials and was duly installed in his office.  It
never entered his mind that it was not cowardice which kept the widow
silent, but the stern resolve of a brave and high-minded woman that she
would do her part to see that vengeance should in time fall upon the
man who had robbed her of a husband whom she looked upon as the direct
gift of Heaven.

Now, immediately after the body of Kwang-Jui had been cast into the
water, the customary patrol sent by the God of the River to see that
order was kept within his dominions, came upon it, and conveyed it with
all speed into the presence of the god himself.

The latter looked at it intently for a moment, and then exclaimed in
great excitement, "Why, this is the very person who only yesterday
saved my life, when I was in danger of being delivered over to a cruel
death!  I shall now be able to show my gratitude by using all the power
I possess to serve his interests.  Bring him to the Crystal Grotto," he
continued, "where only those who have distinguished themselves in the
service of the State have ever been allowed to lie.  This man has a
claim upon me such as no one before him ever possessed.  He is the
saviour of my life, and I will tenderly care for him until the web of
fate has been spun, and, the vengeance of Heaven having been wreaked
upon his murderer, he shall once more rejoin the wife from whom he has
been so ruthlessly torn."

With the passing of the months, the widow of Kwang-Jui gave birth to a
son, the very image of his father.  It was night-time when he was born,
and not long after his birth, a mysterious voice, which could not be
traced, was heard distinctly saying, "Let the child be removed without
delay from the yamen, before the return of the Prefect, as otherwise
its life will not be safe."

Accordingly, on the morrow, the babe, about whose destiny even Heaven
itself seemed concerned, was carefully wrapped round with many
coverings to protect it against the weather.  Inside the inmost dress,
there was enclosed a small document, telling the child's tragic story
and describing the danger from a powerful foe which threatened its
life.  In order to be able to identify her son, it might be after the
lapse of many years, the mother cut off the last joint of the little
finger of his left hand; and then, with tears and sighs, and with her
heart full of unspoken agony, she took a last, lingering look upon the
face of the little one.

A confidential slave woman carried him out of her room, and by devious
ways and secret paths finally laid him on the river's bank.  Casting a
final glance at the precious bundle to see that no danger threatened
it, she hurried back in the direction of the city, with the faint cries
of the abandoned infant still sounding in her ears.

And now the child was in the hands of Heaven.  That this was so was
evident from the fact that in a few minutes the abbot of the monastery,
which could be seen crowning the top of a neighbouring hill, passed
along the narrow pathway by the side of the river.  Hearing a baby's
cry, he hastened towards the place from which the sounds came, and
picking up the little bundle, and realizing that the infant had been
deserted, he carried it up to the monastery and made every arrangement
for its care and comfort.  Fortunately he was a man of a deeply
benevolent nature, and no more suitable person could have been found to
take charge of the child.

We must now allow eighteen years to pass by.  The child that had been
left on the margin of the river had grown up to be a fine, handsome
lad.  The abbot had been his friend ever since the day when his heart
had been touched by his cries, and his love for the little foundling
had grown with the years.  The boy had become a kind of son to him, and
in order not to be parted from him he had taught him the temple duties,
so that he was now a qualified priest in the service of the gods.

One morning the young man, whose name was Sam-Choang, came to the abbot
with a restless, dissatisfied look on his face, and begged to be told
who his father was, and who his mother.  The old priest, who had long
been aware of the tragic story of Kwang-Jui's murder, felt that the
time had come when the lad ought to know what he had hitherto concealed
from him.  Taking out the document which he had found upon him as a
baby, he read it to him, and then the great secret was out.  After this
a long and serious discussion took place between the two as to the
wisest methods to be adopted for bringing the Prefect to justice and
delivering the lad's mother from the humiliating position which she had
so heroically borne for all these eighteen years.

The next day a young priest, with shaven head and dressed in the usual
slate-coloured gown, appeared at the yamen of the Prefect to solicit
subscriptions for the neighbouring monastery.  As the Prefect was
absent on some public business, he was ushered into the reception-room,
where he was received by his mother, who had always been a generous
supporter of the Goddess of Mercy.

At the first sight of this striking-looking young bonze, she found her
heart agitated in a strange and powerful way, such as she had not
experienced for many a long year; and when she noticed that the little
finger on his left hand was without the last joint, she trembled with
the utmost excitement.

After a few words about the object for which he had come, the young
priest slipped into her hand the very paper which she had written
eighteen years ago; and as she looked at her own handwriting and then
gazed into his face and saw the striking likeness to the man at whom
she had thrown the embroidered ball, the mother-instinct within her
flashed suddenly out, and she recognized that this handsome lad was her
own son.  The joy of the mother as she looked upon the face of
Sam-Choang was reflected in the sparkling eyes and glowing look of
pleasure that lit up his whole countenance.

Retiring for a short time his mother returned with a letter which she
handed to him.  In a low voice she told him that it was to her father,
who still lived in the capital, and to whom he was to take it without
any delay.  In order to prevent suspicion on the part of the Prefect,
he was to travel as a priest, who was endeavouring to obtain
subscriptions for his monastery.  He was to be sure, also, to visit the
place where his grandmother had been left, and to try and find out what
had become of her.  In order to defray his expenses she gave him a few
bars of gold, which he could exchange for the current money at the
banks on the way.

When Sam-Choang arrived at the inn where his father had parted with his
grandmother, he could find no trace of her.  A new landlord was in
possession, who had never even heard her name; but on enquiring amongst
the shopkeepers in the neighbourhood, he found to his horror that she
was now a member of the beggars' camp, and that her name was enrolled
amongst that degraded fraternity.

On reaching the wretched hovel where she was living, he discovered that
when her money was exhausted and no remittance came to her from her
son, she had been driven out on to the street by the innkeeper, and
from that time had tramped the country, living on the scraps and bits
which were bestowed upon her by the benevolent.  Great was her joy when
her grandson led her away to the best inn in the place, and on his
departure gave her an ample supply of money for all her needs until
they should meet again.

When Sam-Choang reached the capital and handed his mother's letter to
his grandfather, the most profound excitement ensued.  As soon as the
Emperor was officially informed of the case, he determined that the
severest punishment should be inflicted upon the man who had not only
committed a cruel murder, but through it had dared to usurp a position
which could only be held at the Sovereign's command.  An Imperial Edict
was accordingly issued ordering the Prime Minister to take a
considerable body of troops and proceed with all possible speed to the
district where such an unheard-of crime had been committed, and there
to hand over the offender to immediate execution.

By forced marches, so as to outstrip any private intelligence that
might have been sent from the capital, the avenging force reached the
city a little before the break of day.  Here they waited in silence
outside the city gates, anxiously listening for the boom of the early
gun which announces the dawn, and at the same time causes the gates to
be flung wide open for the traffic of the day to commence.

As soon as the warders had admitted the waiting crowd outside, the
soldiers, advancing at a run, quickly reached the yamen, and arrested
the Prefect.  Without form of trial but simply with a curt announcement
from the Prime Minister that he was acting upon instructions from the
Emperor, the mandarin was dragged unceremoniously through the gaping
crowds that rushed from their doors to see the amazing spectacle.

The feet of Fate had marched slowly but with unerring certainty, and
had at last reached the wretched criminal.

But where was he being taken?  This road did not lead to the execution
ground, where malefactors were doomed to end their careers in shame.
Street after street was passed, and still the stern-faced soldiers
forced the mandarin down the main thoroughfares, whose sides had often
been lined with respectful crowds as he swept by with his haughty
retinue.  At last they reached the city gate, through which they
marched, and then on towards the river, which could be seen gleaming
like a silver thread in the distance.

Arrived at its bank, the troops formed into a square with the prisoner
in the centre.  Addressing him, the Prime Minister said, "I have
selected this spot rather than the public execution ground where
criminals are put to death.  Your crime has been no common one; and so
to-day, in the face of high Heaven whose righteousness you have dared
to violate, and within sound of the flowing waters of the stream that
witnessed the murder, you shall die."

Half a dozen soldiers then threw him violently to the ground, and in a
few minutes the executioner had torn his bleeding heart from his bosom.
Then, standing with it still in his hand, he waited by the side of the
Prime Minister, who read out to the great multitude the indictment
which had been drawn up against the Prefect.  In this he described his
crimes, and at the same time appealed to Heaven and to the God of the
River to take measures to satisfy and appease the spirit of him who had
been cut off in the prime of life by the man who had just been executed.

As soon as the reading of the document had been concluded, it was set
fire to and allowed to burn until only the blackened ashes remained.
These, together with the criminal's heart, were then cast into the
river.  They were thus formally handed over to the god, who would see
that in the Land of Shadows there should come a further retribution on
the murderer for the crimes he had committed on earth.

The water patrol happened to pass by soon after the ashes and heart had
been flung into the river, and picking them up most carefully, they
carried them to the official residence of the god.  The indictment was
at once formally entered amongst the archives of the office, to be used
as evidence when the case was in due time brought before the notice of
Yam-lo: and after looking at the heart with the intensest scrutiny for
some little time, the god exclaimed, "And so the murderer has at last
received some part of the punishment he so richly deserved.  It is now
time for me to awake the sleeping husband, so that he may be restored
to the wife from whom he has been separated for eighteen years."

Passing into the Crystal Grotto, where the unconscious form of
Kwang-Jui had reposed for so many years, the god touched the body
gently with his hand, and said:--"Friend, arise!  Your wife awaits you,
and loving ones who have long mourned you.  Many years of happiness are
still before you, and the honours that your Sovereign will bestow upon
you shall place you amongst the famous men of the State.  Arise, and
take your place once more amongst the living!"

The Prime Minister was sitting with his daughter, listening to the sad
story of the years of suffering through which she had passed, when the
door was silently opened, and the figure of her long-lost husband
glided in.  Both started up in fear and amazement, for they believed
that what they saw was only a restless spirit which had wandered from
the Land of Shadows and would speedily vanish again from their sight.
In this, however, they were delightfully disappointed.  Kwang-Jui and
his wife were once more reunited, and for many a long year their hearts
were so full of gladness and contentment, that the sorrows which they
had endured gradually became effaced from their memories.  They always
thought with the deepest gratitude of the God of the River, who for
eighteen years had kept the unconscious husband alive and had finally
restored him to his heart-broken wife.

[Arabian Tale] The Three Princes and the Princess Nouronnihar

There was once a sultan of India who had three sons. These, with
the princess his niece, were the ornaments of his court. The eldest
of the princes was called Houssain, the second Ali, the youngest
Ahmed, and the princess his niece, Nouronnihar. The Princess
Nouronnihar was the daughter of the younger brother of the sultan,
to whom the sultan in his lifetime allowed a considerable revenue.
But that prince had not been married long before he died, and left
the princess very young. The sultan, out of brotherly love and
friendship, took upon himself the care of his niece's education,
and brought her up in his palace with the three princes, where her
singular beauty and personal accomplishments, joined to a sprightly
disposition and irreproachable conduct, distinguished her among all
the princesses of her time.

The sultan, her uncle, proposed to get her married, when she
arrived at a proper age, to some neighbouring prince, and was
thinking seriously about it, when he perceived that the three
princes his sons had all fallen in love with her. He was very much
concerned, owing to the difficulty he foresaw whether the two
younger would consent to yield to their elder brother. He spoke to
each of them apart; and after having remonstrated on the
impossibility of one princess being the wife of three persons, and
the troubles they would create if they persisted, he did all he
could to persuade them to abide by a declaration of the princess in
favour of one of them; or to suffer her to be married to a foreign
prince. But as he found them obstinate, he sent for them all
together, and said to them, 'Children, since I have not been able
to persuade you no longer to aspire to marry the princess your
cousin; and as I have no inclination to force her to marry any of
you, I have thought of a plan which will please you all, and
preserve union among you, if you will but follow my advice. I think
it would be best, if every one travelled separately into a
different country, so that you might not meet each other: and as
you know I delight in every thing that is rare and singular, I
promise my niece in marriage to him that shall bring me the most
extraordinary curiosity; and for travelling expenses, I will give
each of you a sum befitting your rank and the purchase of the
curiosity you search.'

As the three princes were always submissive and obedient to the
sultan's will, and each flattered himself that fortune would favour
him, they all consented. The sultan gave them the money he
promised; and that very day they issued orders in preparation for
their travels, and took leave of the sultan, that they might be
ready to set out early the next morning. They all went out at the
same gate of the city, each dressed like a merchant, attended by a
trusty officer dressed like a slave, all well mounted and equipped.
They went the first day's journey together; and slept at the first
inn, where the road divided into three different tracks. At night
when they were at supper together, they agreed to travel for a
year, and to make that inn their rendezvous; that the first that
came should wait for the rest; that as they had all three taken
leave together of the sultan, they should all return together. The
next morning by break of day, after they had embraced and wished
each other good success, they mounted their horses, and each took a
different road.

Prince Houssain, the eldest brother, who had heard wonders of the
extent, strength, riches, and splendour of the kingdom of Bisnagar,
bent his course towards the Indian coast; and, after three months
travelling with different caravans, sometimes over deserts and
barren mountains, and sometimes through populous and fertile
countries, he arrived at Bisnagar, the capital of the kingdom of
that name and the residence of its king. He lodged at a khan
appointed for foreign merchants; and having learnt that there were
four principal quarters where merchants of all sorts kept their
shops, in the midst of which stood the castle, or rather the king's
palace, as the centre of the city, surrounded by three courts, and
each gate two leagues distant from the other, he went to one of
these quarters the next day.

Prince Houssain could not see this quarter without admiration. It
was large, and divided into several streets, all vaulted and shaded
from the sun, and yet very light. The shops were all of the same
size and proportion; and all that dealt in the same sort of
merchandise, as well as the craftsmen, lived in one street.

The multitude of shops stocked with the finest linens from several
parts of India, some painted in the brightest colours, with men,
landscapes, trees, and flowers; silks and brocades from Persia,
China, and other places; porcelain from Japan and China, foot
carpets of all sizes,--all this surprised him so much that he knew
not how to believe his own eyes; but when he came to the shops of
the goldsmiths and jewellers (for those two trades were exercised
by the same merchants), he was dazzled by the lustre of the pearls,
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones exposed for
sale. But if he was amazed at seeing so many riches in one place,
he was much more surprised when he came to judge of the wealth of
the whole kingdom by considering that except the Brahmins and
ministers of the idols, who profess a life retired from worldly
vanity, there was not an Indian, man or woman, through the extent
of that kingdom, who did not wear necklaces, bracelets, and
ornaments about their legs and feet, made of pearls and other
precious stones.

Another thing Prince Houssain particularly admired was the great
number of rose-sellers, who crowded the streets; for the Indians
are such lovers of that flower, that not one will stir without a
nosegay in his hand, or a garland on his head; and the merchants
keep them in pots in their shops, so that the air of the whole
quarter, however large, is perfectly perfumed.

After Prince Houssain had run through the quarter, street by
street, his thoughts fully occupied by the riches he had seen, he
was very much tired, and a merchant civilly invited him to sit down
in his shop. He accepted the offer; but had not been seated long
before he saw a crier pass by with a piece of carpet on his arm,
about six feet square, and cry it at thirty purses. The prince
called to the crier, and asked to see the carpet, which seemed to
him to be valued at an exorbitant price, not only for its size, but
the meanness of the stuff. When he had examined it well, he told
the crier that he could not comprehend how so small and poor a
piece could be priced so high.

The crier, who took him for a merchant, replied, 'Sir, if this
price seems so extravagant to you, your amazement will be greater
when I tell you I have orders to raise it to forty purses, and not
to part with it for less.'

'Certainly,' answered Prince Houssain, 'it must have something very
extraordinary about it, which I know nothing of.'

'You have guessed right, sir,' replied the crier, 'and will own as
much when you come to know that whoever sits on this piece of
carpet may be transported in an instant wherever he desires to go
without being stopped by any obstacle.'

At this the Prince of the Indies, considering that the principal
motive of his journey was to carry some singular curiosity home to
the sultan his father, thought that be could not meet with anything
which could give him more satisfaction. 'If the carpet,' said he to
the crier, 'has the virtue you assign it, I shall not think forty
purses too much but shall make you a present besides.'

'Sir,' replied the crier, 'I have told you the truth; and it will
be an easy matter to convince you of it, as soon as you have made
the bargain for forty purses, by experiment. But as I suppose you
have not so much with you, and that I must go with you to the khan
where you lodge, with the leave of the master of the shop we will
go into his back shop, and I will spread the carpet; and when we
have both sat down, and you have formed the wish to be transported
into your room at the khan, if we are not transported thither it
shall be no bargain. As to your present, as I am paid for my
trouble by the seller, I shall receive it as a favour, and be very
much obliged to you for it.'

The prince accepted the conditions, and concluded the bargain; and
having obtained the master's leave, they went into his back shop;
they both sat down on the carpet, and as soon as the prince wished
to be transported into his room at the khan, he found himself and
the crier there, and as he wanted no more convincing proof of the
virtue of the carpet, he counted to the crier forty purses of gold,
and gave him twenty pieces for himself.

In this manner Prince Houssain became the possessor of the carpet,
and was overjoyed that on his arrival at Bisnagar he had found so
rare a treasure, which he never doubted would gain him the Princess
Nouronnihar. In short he looked upon it as an impossible thing for
the princes, his younger brothers, to meet with anything to compare
with it. It was in his power, by sitting on this carpet, to be at
the place of rendezvous that very day; but as he was obliged to
wait for his brothers, as they had agreed, and as he was curious to
see the King of Bisnagar and his court, and to learn about the
laws, customs, and religion of the kingdom, he chose to make a
longer abode there.

It was a custom of the King of Bisnagar to give audience to all
strange merchants once a week; and Prince Houssain, who remained
incognito, saw him often; and as he was handsome, clever, and
extremely polite, he easily distinguished himself among the
merchants, and was preferred before them all by the sultan, who
asked him about the Sultan of the Indies, and the government,
strength, and riches of his dominions.

The rest of his time the prince spent in seeing what was most
remarkable in and about the city; and among other things he visited
a temple, all built of brass. It was ten cubits square, and fifteen
high; and the greatest ornament to it was an idol of the height of a
man, of massy gold: its eyes were two rubies, set so artificially,
that it seemed to look at those who looked at it, on whichever side
they turned. Besides this, there was another not less curious, in a
village in the midst of a plain of about ten acres, which was a
delicious garden full of roses and the choicest flowers, surrounded
with a small wall breast high, to keep the cattle out. In the midst
of this plain was raised a terrace, a man's height, so nicely paved
that the whole pavement seemed to be but one single stone. A temple
was erected in the middle of this terrace, with a dome about fifty
cubits high, which might be seen for several leagues round. It was
thirty cubits long, and twenty broad, built of red marble, highly
polished. The inside of the dome was adorned with three rows of fine
paintings, in good taste: and there was not a place in the whole
temple but was embellished with paintings, bas-reliefs, and figures
of idols from top to bottom.

Every night and morning there were ceremonies performed in this
temple, which were always succeeded by sports, concerts, dancing,
singing, and feasts. The ministers of the temple and the inhabitants
of the place had nothing to live on but the offerings of pilgrims,
who came in crowds from the most distant parts of the kingdom to
perform their vows.

Prince Houssain was also spectator of a solemn feast, which was
celebrated every year at the court of Bisnagar, at which all the
governors of provinces, commanders of fortified places, all the
governors and judges of towns, and the Brahmins most celebrated for
their learning, were obliged to be present; and some lived so far
off that they were four months in coming. This assembly, composed of
innumerable multitudes of Indians, met in a plain of vast extent, as
far as the eye could reach. In the centre of this plain was a square
of great length and breadth, closed on one side by a large
scaffolding of nine stories, supported by forty pillars, raised for
the king and his court, and those strangers whom he admitted to
audience once a week. Inside, it was adorned and furnished
magnificently; and on the outside were painted fine landscapes,
wherein all sorts of beasts, birds, and insects, even flies and
gnats, were drawn as naturally as possible. Other scaffolds of at
least four or five stories, and painted almost all alike, formed the
other three sides.

On each side of the square, at some little distance from each other,
were ranged a thousand elephants, sumptuously harnessed, each having
upon his back a square wooden castle, finely gilt, in which were
musicians and actors. The trunks, ears, and bodies of these
elephants were painted with cinnabar and other colours, representing
grotesque figures.

But what Prince Houssain most of all admired was to see the largest
of these elephants stand with his four feet on a post fixed into
the earth, two feet high, playing and beating time with his trunk
to the music. Besides this, he admired another elephant as big,
standing on a board, which was laid across a strong beam about ten
feet high, with a great weight at the other end which balanced him,
while he kept time with the music by the motions of his body and
trunk.

Prince Houssain might have made a longer stay in the kingdom and
court of Bisnagar, where he would have seen other wonders, till the
last day of the year, whereon he and his brothers had appointed to
meet. But he was so well satisfied with what he had seen, and his
thoughts ran so much upon the Princess Nouronnihar, that he fancied
he should be the more easy and happy the nearer he was to her.
After he had paid the master of the khan for his apartment, and
told him the hour when he might come for the key, without telling
him how he should go, he shut the door, put the key on the outside,
and spreading the carpet, he and the officer he had brought with
him sat down on it, and, as soon as he had wished, were transported
to the inn at which he and his brothers were to meet, where he
passed for a merchant till they came.

Prince Ali, the second brother, travelled into Persia with a
caravan, and after four months' travelling arrived at Schiraz,
which was then the capital of the kingdom of Persia, and having on
the way made friends with some merchants, passed for a jeweller,
and lodged in the same khan with them.

The next morning, while the merchants were opening their bales of
merchandise, Prince Ali took a walk into that quarter of the town
where they sold precious stones, gold and silver work, brocades,
silks, fine linens, and other choice and valuable merchandise,
which was at Schiraz called the bezestein. It was a spacious and
well-built place, arched over, and supported by large pillars;
along the walls, within and without, were shops. Prince Ali soon
rambled through the bezestein, and with admiration judged of the
riches of the place by the prodigious quantities of most precious
merchandise there exposed to view.

But among all the criers who passed backwards and forwards with
several sorts of things to sell, he was not a little surprised to
see one who held in his hand an ivory tube about a foot in length
and about an inch thick, and cried it at thirty purses. At first he
thought the crier mad, and to make sure, went to a shop, and said
to the merchant, who stood at the door, 'Pray, sir, is not that man
mad? If he is not, I am very much deceived.'

'Indeed, sir,' answered the merchant, 'he was in his right senses
yesterday, and I can assure you he is one of the ablest criers we
have, and the most employed of any when anything valuable is to be
sold; and if he cries the ivory tube at thirty purses, it must be
worth as much, or more, for some reason or other which does not
appear. He will come by presently, and we will call him; in the
meantime sit down on my sofa and rest yourself.'

Prince Ali accepted the merchant's obliging offer, and presently
the crier passed by. The merchant called him by his name; and
pointing to the prince, said to him, 'Tell that gentleman, who
asked me if you were in your right senses, what you mean by crying
that ivory tube, which seems not to be worth much, at thirty
purses: I should be very much amazed myself, if I did not know you
were a sensible man.'

The crier, addressing himself to Prince Ali, said, 'Sir, you are
not the only person that takes me for a madman on account of this
tube; you shall judge yourself whether I am or no, when I have told
you its peculiarity. First, sir,' pursued the crier, presenting the
ivory tube to the prince, 'observe that this tube is furnished with
a glass at both ends; by looking through one of them you see
whatever object you wish to behold.'

'I am,' said the prince, 'ready to make you all proper reparation
for the scandal I have thrown on you, if you will make the truth of
what you say appear'; and as he had the ivory tube in his hand, he
said, 'Show me at which of these ends I must look.' The crier
showed him, and he looked through, wishing at the same time to see
the sultan, his father. He immediately beheld him in perfect
health, sitting on his throne, in the midst of his council.
Afterwards, as there was nothing in the world so dear to him, after
the sultan, as the Princess Nouronnihar, he wished to see her, and
saw her laughing, and in a pleasant humour, with her women about
her.

Prince Ali needed no other proof to persuade him that this tube was
the most valuable thing, not only in the city of Schiraz, but in
all the world; and he believed that, if he should neglect it, he
would never meet again with such another rarity. He said to the
crier, 'I am very sorry that I should have entertained so bad an
opinion of you, but hope to make you amends by buying the tube, so
tell me the lowest price the seller has fixed upon it. Come with
me, and I will pay you the money.' The crier assured him that his
last orders were to take no less than forty purses; and, if he
disputed the truth of what he said, he would take him to his
employer. The prince believed him, took him to the khan where he
lodged, counted out the money, and received the tube.

Prince Ali was overjoyed at his bargain; and persuaded himself
that, as his brothers would not be able to meet with anything so
rare and marvellous, the Princess Nouronnihar would be his wife. He
thought now of visiting the court of Persia incognito, and seeing
whatever was curious in and about Schiraz, till the caravan with
which he came returned back to the Indies. When the caravan was
ready to set out, the prince joined them, and arrived without any
accident or trouble at the place of rendezvous, where he found
Prince Houssain, and both waited for Prince Ahmed.

Prince Ahmed took the road to Samarcand; and the day after his
arrival there went, as his brothers had done, into the bezestein.
He had not walked long before he heard a crier, who had an
artificial apple in his hand, cry it at five-and-thirty purses. He
stopped the crier, and said to him, 'Let me see that apple, and
tell me what virtue or extraordinary property it has, to be valued
at so high a rate.'

'Sir,' said the crier, putting it into his hand, 'if you look at
the outside of this apple, it is very ordinary; but if you consider
the great use and benefit it is to mankind, you will say it is
invaluable. He who possesses it is master of a great treasure. It
cures all sick persons of the most mortal diseases, fever,
pleurisy, plague, or other malignant distempers; and, if the
patient is dying, it will immediately restore him to perfect
health; and this is done after the easiest manner in the world,
merely by the patient smelling the apple.'

'If one may believe you,' replied Prince Ahmed, 'the virtues of
this apple are wonderful, and it is indeed valuable: but what
ground has a plain man like myself, who may wish to become the
purchaser, to be persuaded that there is no deception or
exaggeration in the high praise you bestow on it?'

'Sir,' replied the crier, 'the thing is known and averred by the
whole city of Samarcand; but, without going any further, ask all
these merchants you see here, and hear what they say; several of
them would not have been alive this day if they had not made use of
this excellent remedy. It is the result of the study and experience
of a celebrated philosopher of this city, who applied himself all
his life to the knowledge of plants and minerals, and at last
performed such surprising cures in this city as will never be
forgotten; but he died suddenly himself, before he could apply his
own sovereign remedy, and left his wife and a great many young
children behind him in very indifferent circumstances; to support
her family, and provide for her children, she has resolved to sell
it.'

While the crier was telling Prince Ahmed the virtues of the
artificial apple, a great many persons came about them, and
confirmed what he said; and one among the rest said he had a friend
dangerously ill, whose life was despaired of, which was a
favourable opportunity to show Prince Ahmed the experiment. Upon
which Prince Ahmed told the crier he would give him forty purses if
he cured the sick person by letting him smell at it.

The crier, who had orders to sell it at that price, said to Prince
Ahmed, 'Come, sir, let us go and make the experiment, and the apple
shall be yours; it is an undoubted fact that it will always have
the same effect as it already has had in recovering from death many
sick persons whose life was despaired of.'

The experiment succeeded, and the prince, after he had counted out
to the crier forty purses, and the other had delivered the apple to
him, waited with the greatest impatience for the first caravan that
should return to the Indies. In the meantime he saw all that was
curious in and about Samarcand, especially the valley of Sogda, so
called from the river which waters it, and is reckoned by the
Arabians to be one of the four paradises of this world, for the
beauty of its fields and gardens and fine palaces, and for its
fertility in fruit of all sorts, and all the other pleasures
enjoyed there in the fine season.

At last Prince Ahmed joined the first caravan that returned to the
Indies, and arrived in perfect health at the inn where the Princes
Houssain and Ali were waiting for him.

Prince Ali, who was there some time before Prince Ahmed, asked
Prince Houssain, who got there first, how long he had been there;
he told him three months: to which he replied, 'Then certainly you
have not been very far.'

'I will tell you nothing now,' said Prince Houssain, 'but only
assure you I was more than three months travelling to the place I
went to.'

'But then,' replied Prince Ali, 'you made a short stay there.'

'Indeed, brother,' said Prince Houssain, 'you are mistaken: I
resided at one place over four or five months, and might have
stayed longer.'

'Unless you flew back,' replied Prince Ali again, 'I cannot
comprehend how you can have been three months here, as you would
make me believe.'

'I tell you the truth,' added Prince Houssain, 'and it is a riddle
which I shall not explain till our brother Ahmed comes; then I will
let you know what curiosity I have brought home from my travels. I
know not what you have got, but believe it to be some trifle,
because I do not see that your baggage is increased.'

'And pray what have you brought?' replied Prince Ali, 'for I can
see nothing but an ordinary piece of carpet, with which you cover
your sofa, and as you seem to make what you have brought a secret,
you cannot take it amiss that I do the same.'

'I consider the rarity which I have purchased,' replied Prince
Houssain, 'to excel all others whatever, and should not have any
objection to show it you, and make you agree that it is so, and at
the same time tell you how I came by it, without being in the least
apprehensive that what you have got is better. But we ought to wait
till our brother Ahmed arrives, that we may all communicate our
good fortune to each other.'

Prince Ali would not enter into a dispute with Prince Houssain, but
was persuaded that, if his perspective glass were not preferable,
it was impossible it should be inferior, and therefore agreed to
wait till Prince Ahmed arrived, to produce his purchase.

When Prince Ahmed came, they embraced and complimented each other
on the happiness of meeting together at the place they set out
from. Then Prince Houssain, as the elder brother, said, 'Brothers,
we shall have time enough hereafter to entertain ourselves with the
particulars of our travels: let us come to that which is of the
greatest importance for us to know; let us not conceal from each
other the curiosities we have brought home, but show them, that we
may do ourselves justice beforehand and see to which of us the
sultan our father may give the preference.

'To set the example,' continued Prince Houssain, 'I will tell you
that the rarity which I have brought from my travels to the kingdom
of Bisnagar, is the carpet on which I sit, which looks but ordinary
and makes no show; but, when I have declared its virtues to you,
you will be struck with admiration, and will confess you never
heard of anything like it. Whoever sits on it as we do, and desires
to be transported to any place, be it ever so far off, is
immediately carried thither. I made the experiment myself before I
paid down the forty purses, and when I had fully satisfied my
curiosity at the court of Bisnagar, and had a mind to return, I
made use of no other means than this wonderful carpet for myself
and servant, who can tell you how long we were coming hither. I
will show you both the experiment whenever you please. I expect you
to tell me whether what you have brought is to be compared to this
carpet.'

Here Prince Houssain ended, and Prince Ali said, 'I must own,
brother, that your carpet is one of the most surprising things
imaginable, if it has, as I do not doubt in the least, that
property you speak of. But you must allow that there may be other
things, I will not say more, but at least as wonderful, in another
way; and to convince you there are, here is an ivory tube, which
appears to the eye no more a rarity than your carpet. It cost me as
much, and I am as well satisfied with my purchase as you can be
with yours; and you will be so just as to own that I have not been
cheated, when you know by experience that by looking at one end you
see whatever you wish to behold. Take it,' added Prince Ali,
presenting the tube to him, 'make trial of it yourself.'

Prince Houssain took the ivory tube from Prince Ali, and clapped
that end to his eye which Prince Ali showed him, to see the
Princess Nouronnihar, and to know how she was, when Prince Ali and
Prince Ahmed, who kept their eyes fixed upon him, were extremely
surprised to see his countenance change suddenly with extraordinary
pain and grief. Prince Houssain would not give them time to ask
what was the matter, but cried out, 'Alas! princes, to what purpose
have we undertaken long and fatiguing journeys? In a few moments
our lovely princess will breathe her last. I saw her in her bed,
surrounded by her women and attendants, who were all in tears. Take
the tube, behold for yourselves the miserable state she is in.'

Prince Ali took the tube out of Prince Houssain's hand and after he
had looked, presented it to Prince Ahmed.

When Prince Ahmed saw that the Princess Nouronnihar's end was so
near, he addressed himself to his two brothers, and said, 'Princes,
the Princess Nouronnihar, the object of all our vows, is indeed at
death's door; but provided we make haste and lose no time, we may
preserve her life.' Then he took out the artificial apple, and
showing it to the princes his brothers, said to them, 'This apple
which you see here cost as much as either the carpet or tube. The
opportunity now presents itself to show you its wonderful virtue.
Not to keep you longer in suspense, if a sick person smells it,
though in the last agonies, it restores him to perfect health
immediately. I have made the experiment, and can show you its
wonderful effect on the Princess Nouronnihar, if we make all haste
to assist her.'

'If that is all,' replied Prince Houssain, 'we cannot make more
haste than by transporting ourselves instantly into her room by the
means of my carpet. Come, lose no time; sit down on it by me; it is
large enough to hold us all three: but first let us give orders to
our servants to set out immediately, and join us at the palace.'

As soon as the order was given, Prince Ali and Prince Ahmed went
and sat down by Prince Houssain, and all three framed the same
wish, and were transported into the Princess Nouronnihar's chamber.

The presence of the three princes, who were so little expected,
frightened the princess's women and attendants, who could not
comprehend by what enchantment three men should be among them; for
they did not know them at first, and the attendants were ready to
fall upon them, as people who had got into a part of the palace
where they were not allowed to come; but they presently recollected
and found their mistake.

Prince Ahmed no sooner saw himself in Nouronnihar's room, and
perceived the princess dying, than he rose off the tapestry, as did
also the other two princes, and went to the bed-side, and put the
apple under her nose. Some moments after, the princess opened her
eyes, and turned her head from one side to another, looking at the
persons who stood about her; she then rose up in the bed, and asked
to be dressed, just as if she had awaked out of a sound sleep. Her
women informed her, in a manner that showed their joy, that she was
obliged to the three princes her cousins, and particularly to
Prince Ahmed, for the sudden recovery of her health. She
immediately expressed her joy to see them, and thanked them all
together, and afterwards Prince Ahmed in particular, and they then
retired.

While the princess was dressing, the princes went to throw
themselves at the sultan their father's feet, and pay their
respects to him. The sultan received and embraced them with the
greatest joy, both for their return and for the wonderful recovery
of the princess his niece, whom he loved as if she had been his own
daughter, and who had been given over by the physicians. After the
usual compliments, the princes presented each the curiosity which
he had brought: Prince Houssain his carpet, which he had taken care
not to leave behind him in the princess's chamber; Prince Ali his
ivory tube, and Prince Ahmed the artificial apple; and after each
had commended his present, when they put it into the sultan's
hands, they begged him to pronounce their fate, and declare to
which of them he would give the Princess Nouronnihar for a wife,
according to his promise.

The Sultan of the Indies having kindly heard all that the princes
had to say, without interrupting them, and being well informed of
what had happened in relation to the Princess Nouronnihar's cure,
remained some time silent, as if he were thinking what answer he
should make. At last he broke silence, and said to them in terms
full of wisdom, 'I would declare for one of you, my children, with
a great deal of pleasure, if I could do so with justice; but
consider whether I can. It is true, Prince Ahmed, the princess my
niece is obliged to your artificial apple for her cure, but let me
ask you, whether you could have been so serviceable to her if you
had not known by Prince Ali's tube the danger she was in, and if
Prince Houssain's carpet had not brought you to her so soon?

'Your tube, Prince Ali, informed you and your brothers that you
were likely to lose the princess your cousin, and so far she is
greatly obliged to you. You must also grant that that knowledge
would have been of no service without the artificial apple and the
carpet.

'And for you, Prince Houssain, consider that it would have been of
little use if you had not been acquainted with the princess's
illness by Prince Ali's tube, and Prince Ahmed had not applied his
artificial apple. Therefore, as neither the carpet, the ivory tube,
nor the artificial apple has the least preference one over the
other, but, on the contrary, there is a perfect equality, I cannot
grant the princess to any one of you, and the only fruit you have
reaped from your travels is the glory of having equally contributed
to restore her to health.

'If this be true,' added the sultan, 'you see that I must have
recourse to other means to determine with certainty in the choice I
ought to make among you, and as there is time enough between this
and night, I will do it to-day. Go, and get each of you a bow and
arrow, and repair to the great plain outside the city, where the
horses are exercised. I will soon come to you, and I declare I will
give the Princess Nouronnihar to him that shoots the farthest.

'I do not, however, forget to thank you all in general, and each in
particular, for the presents you brought me. I have a great many
rarities in my museum already, but nothing that comes up to the
carpet, the ivory tube, and the artificial apple, which shall have
the first place among them, and shall be preserved carefully, not
only for show, but to make an advantageous use of them upon all
occasions.'

The three princes had nothing to say against the decision of the
sultan. When they were out of his presence, they each provided
themselves with a bow and arrow, which they delivered to one of
their officers, and went to the plain appointed, followed by a
great concourse of people.

The sultan did not make them wait long; and as soon as he arrived,
Prince Houssain, as the eldest, took his bow and arrow, and shot
first. Prince Ali shot next, and much beyond him; and Prince Ahmed
last of all; but it so happened, that nobody could see where his
arrow fell; and, notwithstanding all the search of himself and
everybody else, it was not to be found far or near. And though it
was believed that he shot the farthest, and that he therefore
deserved the Princess Nouronnihar, it was necessary that his arrow
should be found, to make the matter evident and certain; so,
notwithstanding his remonstrances, the sultan determined in favour
of Prince Ali, and gave orders for preparations to be made for the
wedding, which was celebrated a few days afterwards with great
magnificence.