0141. Birds of a Feather

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Suhanu Jataka.

Summary: As the king and a horsedealer attempt to trick and out-trick one another, they learn a lesson about how like-likes-like.

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BIRDS OF A FEATHER

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a big horse called Chestnut. He was as fierce as a fury, and bit everybody who came near him; his groom always had a broken bone, or a bruise at the least; and, as for the other horses, let Chestnut loose in the herd, and there was a fine to-do: a kick for one, a bite for another; it was hurry, skurry, worry, till they took themselves off and left him alone in the clover.

Now the King wanted to buy some horses, and a dealer had driven down a couple of hundred of them for the King to buy. But the King was a skinflint, and wanted to get them cheap; so he dropped a hint to his groom, that it would not be a bad thing if Chestnut made acquaintance with these horses; at the same time, he dropped a gold piece in the groom’s hand.

So the groom led Chestnut by this new herd, and, all of a sudden, he quietly flicked Chestnut with his whip; Chestnut reared and plunged, the groom shouted, and, pretending to find the horse too strong for him, let go the halter. Off galloped Chestnut, kicking up his heels in the air, roaring and whinnying; and fine fun he had among the new horses! By the time he had done with them, hardly one had a whole skin.

The poor dealer was in despair. He would be ruined!

And next day, when the King came to see the horses, he turned up his nose. “Pooh! do you suppose I want bruised old hacks like that? Look at that sore! And here is a broken jaw! Why, half of them limp!”

In vain the dealer protested that it was Chestnut’s fault; the King only laughed, and asked if he expected him to believe that one horse could do all that mischief. (And yet, as you know, it was one horse, and at the King’s own bidding too.)

However, it was a pity that he should have to take them back again, the King said; so, if he liked, as a favour, he would buy the horses, at half price.

The dealer was not taken in by this, but he pretended to be very grateful, and went home again, wondering what he could do. He was afraid to offend the King, and, indeed, very few people were rich enough to buy his splendid horses. So he knew that he would be obliged to take some more down to the King another time.

Then he suddenly remembered he had just such another vicious brute at home, named Strongjaw, that nobody could do anything with. “Aha!” said he; “I have it! I’ll take Strongjaw down with me next time, and if he does not prove a match for Chestnut I am very much mistaken.” He chuckled with glee as he thought what a fine fight there would be between the two.

Next time, as he had resolved, he brought Strongjaw with the drove, and as soon as the King’s groom came by with Chestnut, and let him go as he did before, the dealer’s eyes twinkled, and he let out Strongjaw.

Chestnut pricked up his ears, and Strongjaw pricked up his; then, without taking any notice of the rest, they trotted up to each other and rubbed noses, and began to lick each other all over. They did not fight at all, but in a moment they became bosom friends.

The dealer could not understand this, neither could the King.

However, this time the King had to pay a good price for the horses, and as he saw his little trick was found out, he felt rather ashamed of himself, and so he paid the man for the other horses as well. Still, they kept wondering and wondering what the reason could be that these two horses, each so fierce and wild, were quiet as a pair of kittens together.

The King asked the wisest man in all his kingdom to explain it; and the man, who was a minstrel, that is, he used to sing songs to the King about all that had happened or would happen in the world, took up his harp and sang:

If the reason you would know,
Like to like will always go;
Here’s a pair of vicious horses
Just the same in all their courses;
Both are wild, and bite their tether:
Birds of a feather flock together.

0139. The Foolish Farmer and the King

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Somadatta Jataka.

Summary: Coached by his son, a poor farmer nervously prepares to make a request of the king.

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THE FOOLISH FARMER AND THE KING

(W. Robinson)

Once there was a foolish Farmer, who had a son at court, serving the King. This Farmer was a very poor man, and all he had to plough his fields with was one pair of oxen. Two oxen was all he had, and one of them died.

The poor Farmer was in despair. One ox was not enough to draw the plough over the heavy land; and he had no money to buy another. So he sent a message to his son, that he was wanted at home.

When the son came, his father told him that one of his oxen was dead, and he had no money to buy another. So he begged his son to ask the King to give him an ox.

“No, no,” said his son, “I am always asking the King for something. If you want an ox, you must ask him yourself.”

“I can’t do it!” said the poor Farmer. “You know what a muddle-head I am. If I go to ask the King for another ox, I shall end by giving him this one!”

“Well, what must be, must be,” said his son. “Anyhow, I cannot ask the King: but I’ll train you to do it.”

So he led his father to a place which was dotted all over with clumps of grass. The young courtier tied up a number of bundles of this grass, and arranged them in rows. “Now, look here, father,” said he, “this is the King, that is the Prime Minister, that is the General, here are the other grandees,” pointing to each bundle as he said the name. “When you come into the King’s presence, you must begin by saying: ‘Long live the King!’ and then ask your boon.”

To help him to remember, the son made up a little verse for his father to say, and this is the verse:
“I had two oxen to my plough, with which my work was done.
Now one is dead: O, mighty king, please give me another one!”

“Well,” said the Farmer, “I think I can say that.” And he repeated it over and over, bowing and scraping to the bunch of grass that he called the King.

Every day for a whole year the Farmer practised; and how the ploughing got on meanwhile I do not know. Perhaps he lived on the seed-corn, and did not plough at all.

At the end of the year he said to his son: “Now I know that little verse of yours! Now I can say it before any man! Take me to the King!”

So together father and son trudged away to the King’s palace. There on a throne he sat, in gorgeous robes, with his courtiers all around him, the Prime Minister, the General, and all, just as the young man had told his father. But the poor Farmer! his head was beginning to swim already.

“Who is this?” said the King to the Farmer’s son, who, as you know, was a courtier, so the King knew him.

“It is my father, Sire,” he answered.

“What does he want?” the King asked.

All eyes were turned on the Farmer, who by this time was as red as a turkey-cock, and hardly knew whether he stood on head or heels. However, he plucked up courage, and out came the verse, as pat as a pancake:

“I had two oxen to my plough, with which my work was done.
Now one is dead: O, mighty king, please take the other one!”

The King couldn’t help laughing; and he saw there must be a mistake somewhere. “Plenty of oxen at home, eh!” said he, keeping up the joke.

“If so, Sire,” said the Farmer’s son with a bow, “you must have given them.”

The King thought that rather neat. “If I have not given you any so far,” said he, smiling, “I will do it now.”

And when the pair got home, the Farmer in despair at his blunder, lo and behold in his cowhouse were half a dozen of the finest oxen he had ever seen! So the poor old Farmer got his oxen, though he did make a muddle of the verse.

0153. Lacknose

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Paduma Jataka. In the traditional version, the boys want the gardener to give them a lotus.

Summary: Two boys fail to persuade the nose-less gardener to share his flowers with them, but the third boy succeeds.

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LACKNOSE

(W. Robinson)

There was once a Gardener who had no nose, and he had a very nice garden full of beautiful flowers: roses, and pinks, and lilies, and violets, and all the prettiest flowers you can imagine.

Three little boys thought they would like a bunch of flowers, but they did not know how to get it. So one of them went into the garden and said: “Good morning, Mr. Lacknose!”

“Good morning, boy,” said the Gardener.

The boy thought the best thing he could do was to flatter the old fellow, so he had made up a verse of poetry that he thought very pretty, and so he said to the Gardener:
Cut, and cut, and cut again,
Hair and whiskers grow amain:
And your nose will grow like these:
Give me a little posy, please!

The Gardener knew very well that his nose would not grow again like his whiskers, and he thought the little boy rather rude to mention it; so he became angry. “Go away!” said he, “and get your posy somewhere else!”

The boy went away disappointed; but the second boy thought he would try his luck too. Perhaps the first boy had not spoken nicely; and he had made a verse of poetry too, which he thought would just suit the old Gardener. So in he came with “Good morning, Mr. Lacknose!”

“Good morning, boy,” said the old man. “And what do you want?”

Then the boy put on a coaxing smile, and said:
In the autumn seeds are sown,
And ere long they’re fully grown;
May your nose sprout up like these!
Give me a little posy, please!

“There!” he thought, “the old fellow will like that, because he is a Gardener.” But not a bit of it! The Gardener saw through his trick, and was angrier than ever. “Be off!” said he, “or I’ll be after you with a stick! Plant a nose, indeed! You had better go somewhere and learn manners before you ask for my flowers!”

So the second boy went away faster than the first.

But the third boy was an honest little boy, and knew that there is nothing like the truth; so he determined to try what truth could do. He walked modestly into the garden and said: “Good morning, sir!”

“What, another of ’em!” growled the Gardener to himself. “Another pack of lies, I suppose!” He would hardly look at the boy.

But the boy, nothing daunted, repeated his verse:
Babbling fools! to think that they
Can get a posy in this way!
Say they yes, or say they no,
Noses cut no more will grow.
See, I ask you honestly:
Give a posy, sir, to me!

The Gardener was so pleased to find a straightforward and honest little boy, that he took his scissors and cut a most beautiful bunch of flowers, which he gave the boy with a smile. The boy said, “Thank you, sir, very much!” and went away delighted.

0152. The Goblin City

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. For another version of this story, see The Goblin Town.

Summary: The women who rescue the crew and passengers of a shipwreck are not what they seem to be!

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THE GOBLIN CITY

(W. Robinson)

Long, long ago, in the island of Ceylon, there was a large city full of nothing but Goblins. They were all She-goblins, too; and if they wanted husbands, they used to get hold of travellers and force them to marry; and afterwards, when they were tired of their husbands, they gobbled them up.

One day a ship was wrecked upon the coast near the goblin city, and five hundred sailors were cast ashore. The She-goblins came down to the seashore, and brought food and dry clothes for the sailors, and invited them to come into the city. There was nobody else there at all; but for fear that the sailors should be frightened away, the Goblins, by their magic power, made shapes of people appear all around, so that there seemed to be men ploughing in the fields, or shepherds tending their sheep, and huntsmen with hounds, and all the sights of the quiet country life. So, when the sailors looked round, and saw everything as usual, they felt quite secure; although, as you know, it was all a sham.

The end of it was, that they persuaded the sailors to marry them, telling them that their own husbands had gone to sea in a ship, and had been gone these three years, so that they must be drowned and lost for ever. But really, as you know, they had served others in just the same way, and their last batch of husbands were then in prison, waiting to be eaten.

In the middle of the night, when the men were all asleep, the She-goblins rose up, put on their hats, and hurried down to the prison; there they killed a few men, and gnawed their flesh, and ate them up; and after this orgie they went home again.

It so happened that the captain of the sailors woke up before his wife came home, and not seeing her there, he watched. By-and-by in she came; he pretended to be asleep, and looked out of the tail of his eye. She was still munching and crunching, and as she munched she muttered:
Man’s meat, man’s meat,
That’s what Goblins like to eat!

She said it over and over again, then lay down; and soon she was snoring loudly.

The captain was horribly frightened to find he had married a Goblin. What was he to do? They could not fight with Goblins, and they were in the Goblins’ power. If they had a ship they might have sailed away, because Goblins hate the water worse than a cat; but their ship was gone. He could think of nothing.

However, next morning, he found a chance of telling his mates what he had discovered. Some of them believed him, and some said he must have been dreaming; they were sure their wives would not do such a thing. Those who believed him agreed that they would look out for a chance of escape.

But there was a kind fairy who hated those Goblins; and she determined to save the men. So she told her flying horse to go and carry them away. And accordingly, as the men were out for a walk next day, the captain saw in the air a beautiful horse with large white and gold wings.

The horse fluttered down, and hovered just above them, crying out, in a human voice: “Who wants to go home? who wants to go home? who wants to go home?”

“I do, I do!” called out the sailors.

“Climb up, then!” said the horse, dropping within reach. So one climbed up, and then another, and another; and, although the horse looked no bigger than any other horse, there was room for everybody on his back. I think that somehow, when they got up, the fairy made them shrink small, till they were no bigger than so many ants, and thus there was plenty of room for all. When all who wanted to go had got up on his back, away flew the beautiful horse and took them safely home.

As for those who remained behind, that very night the Goblins set upon them and mangled them, and munched them to mincemeat.

0151. The Lion and the Boar

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Sukara Jataka.

Summary: A boastful boar must resort to trickery in order to escape the lion.

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THE LION AND THE BOAR

 (W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a Lion who lived in the mountains, and he used to drink water out of a beautiful lake. It so happened that, as he was drinking there one day, he saw a Boar feeding over on the opposite bank. Now he had just eaten a leg of elephant, and was not hungry; but he made a note of that Boar, thinking to himself what a nice meal the Boar would make some other day. So, after drinking his fill, he crawled quietly away through the bushes, hoping that the Boar could not see him.

But the Boar had sharp eyes, and did see him. “Hullo!” said he to himself, “yon Lion is afraid of me, that’s clear! Ah well, he need not think to get off so easy. If he wants to go, he must fight me first!” He puffed his chest out very big, and rubbed his tusks against a tree, then he called out:
Stay, stay, runaway!
Let us have a fight to-day!
You have four feet, so have I!
If you fail, you can but try!

The Lion could hardly believe his ears. What! A Boar challenge him to fight! He could break a Boar’s back with a tap of his paw. Still, he hid his astonishment at this impertinent Boar and only said: “Please, Mr. Boar, let me off to-day, as I’m rather tired; I have just been wrestling with a fox. But, if you like, I will meet you here this day week, and then we can fight it out between us.”

He said this so humbly that the Boar became haughtier than ever. “Oh, very well,” said he, “it shall never be said I took a mean advantage of any one. This day week, then! Good-day to you.”

When he got home, his friends hardly knew him. Every bristle on his back was standing up straight; his little greedy eyes were gleaming; he ran into the house, knocking over the pots and pans, snarling at his wife, and making himself very disagreeable indeed. At last the other Boars protested, and said they would not stand it any longer.

“Oho!” says he, “you defy a Boar that has killed a Lion! Come on, then!” and very fierce indeed he looked.

Killed a Lion! They did open their eyes. “Where is the Lion you have killed?” asked a pretty little sow, full of curiosity.

“Well, I haven’t exactly killed him yet,” said the Boar rather unwillingly. “He is coming to be killed this day week.”

“What on earth do you mean?” his friends asked. He told them the story, but he did not feel quite so bold now as he had felt before. And when he finished, he felt worse than ever; for one and all they set up such a weeping and wailing that the whole forest resounded with it!

“Oh dear, oh dear!” they cried, “you’ll be the death of us! Kill a Lion? Why, he will crunch you up in a trice, and then he’ll come here, and we are all dead Boars!”

By this time the poor Boar had lost all his conceit; you see he was an ignorant Boar, and did not know at all what the strength of a Lion is. So his heart was down in his toes, and all he wanted now was some way out of the mischief. Nobody could think of a way, until one very old and wise Boar advised him to roll in the mud till he was very dirty, because Lions are clean beasts and do not like dirt.

So every day he rolled and wallowed in the dirtiest places he could find; and by the appointed time he was like a big cake of dirt. So when he came to the lake where he was to meet the Lion, the wind took a whiff of him to the Lion, and the Lion gave a jump, and snuffed, and sneezed, and swished his tail, and cried out, “Get to leeward, get to leeward! Here’s a pretty trick! Well, you have saved your life; I would not touch you with a pair of tongs now!” and, in great disgust he went away, saying, as he went, this little rhyme:
Dirty Boar, I want no more,
You’re saved from being eaten;
If you would fight, I yield me quite,
And own that I am beaten!

You may be sure that our friend the Boar did not wait any longer, but scampered off home. But when he got there, I am sorry to say he told all his friends he had beaten the Lion, and the Lion had run away! He certainly had beaten the Lion in one way, but not in fair fight, so it was rather mean to pretend he had. However, nobody believed him, and the colony of Boars thought the best thing they could do was to get away from that place as fast as their four legs could carry them.

“If he is beaten,” said they with a wink, “still, after all, he is a Lion.”

0150. The Jackal Would A-Wooing Go

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Sigala Jataka; there are several jatakas by this name of "Jackal Jataka."

Summary: The lioness is furious when a jackal proposes marriage to her, and she urges her brother lions to avenge her.

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THE JACKAL WOULD A-WOOING GO

 (W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a family of Lions that lived in the Himalaya Mountains in a Golden Cave. They were three brothers and one sister.

Near by was a silver mountain with a Crystal Cave, and in this Crystal Cave lived a Jackal.

The young Lions used to be out all day, hunting, while their sister kept everything neat and tidy at home. When they caught anything they used to keep a bit for her, because they were not greedy Lions, and they thought that if she did the work at home she deserved some of the game they got abroad.

Now this Jackal fell violently in love with the young Lioness. She was very beautiful, with soft brown fur, and large soft eyes, and fine whiskers; and he did not stop to think what a mongrel cur a Jackal looks beside a Lion, how small, and sneaking, and snarling; so that it was the height of impertinence even to think of such a thing. He did think of it, and more, he actually proposed to the Lioness! You shall hear how he did it.

He had the sense to wait until the three brothers had gone out hunting for food; and then he came and tapped on the rock at the mouth of the Golden Cave. The Lioness looked out, and very much surprised was the Lioness to see the Jackal there. She knew him by sight, of course, as a neighbour; and, indeed, when he was in his Crystal Cave you could always see him, perched up in the air as it might be; for you can see through crystal like glass, and it looked just as if there were nothing there. But they were not on visiting terms, so the Lioness was surprised to see him come tapping at her door. She gave him a distant bow, and waited.

“Beautiful Lioness!” said he, “I love you! See how much we are alike! You have four feet, and so have I; clearly we are made for one another. Will you marry me? We shall be so happy together!”

This offer so astonished the Lioness that she could say nothing. She hated the vile creature, vilest of all creatures; that he should dare to address himself to a royal lioness! a scavenger to a queen! The very thought of the insult made her furious. She resolved that, after such a thing as that had spoken to her, she might just as well die, either by holding her breath or by starving herself. As these thoughts passed through her mind the Jackal was waiting for his answer; but no answer he got. This seemed a pretty broad hint that he was not wanted there; so he went home again, very woebegone, with his tail between his legs, and lay down in his Crystal Cave in much misery.

By-and-by the eldest brother of the Lioness came home again, with a fine fat deer which he had killed. “Here, sister,” he called out, “have a bit!”

She put on a very gloomy air. “No,” she said, “I think I shall have to die.”

“Why, what on earth is the matter?” asked he.

“A nasty, dirty Jackal came, and wanted to marry me!”

“The brute!” said her brother. “Where is he?”

“Can’t you see him, lying up in the sky?” You know the crystal was transparent, and as she had never been there she could not tell he was really in a cave.

Off galloped the young Lion, furious with rage, and when he got near the place where the Jackal was lying in his Crystal Cave, he leaped at him, when—crack! went his skull against the wall of crystal, and down fell the Lion—dead!

Just as the Lioness was getting anxious about her eldest brother, the second came in. She told him the same tale, though she was beginning to be sorry that she was going to die. He had not hurt her, after all; and how nice the meat smelt! But the second Lion did not give her much time to think; he growled, and off he went, leaped into the air, cracked his crown against the wall of crystal, and fell down dead beside his brother.

Now when the third brother came in, the Lioness was quite sure she didn’t mean to die. However, she looked as gloomy as ever, and told her brother what had happened; he had better go out and see what was become of the other two. Surely two Lions were a match for any Jackal! Still, there he was, as before, up in the air.

“Up in the air?” said the youngest brother, who was cleverer than all the rest put together. “Stuff and nonsense! Now let me think. There must be something for him to lie upon; and yet you can see through it.”

He scratched his head with one paw and looked wise. “I have it! Crystal, of course, or glass—that’s what it is!” So up he jumped, and when he got near the Crystal Cave, there were his two brothers, dead, with their skulls cracked right across like a teacup.

He sat down again, and scratched his head with the other paw. “H’m! it looks as though it may be difficult to get at this Jackal. However, I’ll try kindness first. Jackie, Jackie dear!” he called out.

Now you must know that Lions have a very loud voice, and, if you have heard them talking in the Zoo, you will know that even when they want to coax and purr they are enough to frighten you.

And so the poor Jackal, who, after all, was not so bad as the proud Lioness made out, when he heard the Lion coaxing him down, thought “What an awful roar!” His heart was beating very hard before, but this time it gave such a leap that something went snap! And the Jackal was dead too.

Then the Lion looked up, and saw that the Jackal was dead. So he buried his brothers, and went and told his sister all about it.

You might expect her to be sorry that her two brave brothers were dead, all because she held her nose so high in the air; but not a bit of it; she was quite satisfied so long as one was left to catch food for her. So she lived all the rest of her life in the Golden Cave, but I never heard that any other animal asked her to marry him.

0148. Pride Must Have a Fall

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Vinilaka Jataka; Vinilaka is the name of the bird called "Streaky" in this version.

Summary: A boastful crow with a goose for his father thinks very highly of himself.

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PRIDE MUST HAVE A FALL

 (W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a beautiful wild Goose that lived in the mountains; he was King of the Geese, and he had a mate and two or three fine young ones. But it had happened once that this Goose, in his travels about the world, fell in with a young lady Crow, who was very pretty; as black as jet, with two eyes like black beads, and she flirted and flouted so enchantingly that he had married her, like the goose he was; so he had two wives, the little black Crow and the Goose.

In course of time this Crow laid a beautiful egg, all white with blue spots, and twice as big as an ordinary crow’s egg. She was very proud of her egg, and sat on it for a longtime, until one day, pop! went the egg, and out came a funny little chick. The Crow did not know what to make of this chick; he was not black, as she was, and he was not white, like his father, but something betwixt and between, a dingy grey with brown streaks. So she named him Streaky.

Be sure that Streaky fancied himself mightily, being so very different from all the Crows he lived with; he was larger, to begin with, and then he had a very loud voice, with several different notes in it; not to mention his brown streaks, which made him a proud bird indeed. And I think the other Crows took him at his own price, as foolish creatures are apt to do, and thought him very wonderful, though he was really only a mongrel.

Now the Goose, his father, used to pay a visit to the Crow colony now and again, flying down from the mountains to the dust-heap where they lived, outside the city gate. But he did not stay long, because the Crows used to feed on offal and dead bodies, in fact anything dirty they could find; and King Goose could not get what he liked to eat.

Well, once as he was talking to his sons, the young Geese, they asked him why he was always going away for days at a time.

“Why,” said he, “I go to see a son of mine that lives somewhere else.”

“Oh, how nice!” said the Geese. “Then he must be our brother. Do let us bring him here on a visit! Do, father!”

At first the father Goose would not let them go, for fear of mischief; but after a while he was persuaded, and gave them very careful directions how to fly, and where to go, and how to find the place where Streaky lived, on the top of a tall palm-tree that grew out of a dust-heap at the city gate.

So away they flew, and away they flew, till at last they saw the tall palm-tree; and on the very top of it, a big nest; and in the nest, a little black Crow, and our funny friend Streaky.

They said “How do you do?” and told their errand; because they meant to go through with it now, although they did not much like the look of this ugly bird Streaky, with his airs and graces.

Mrs. Crow was very much pleased, but Streaky looked bored, and said: “Aw, caw, I don’t think I can fly all that way. It is really too much trouble. Why did not the Governor come to see me instead, as usual—aw?” This rude bird called his father the Governor; you see, as he had been brought up among carrion crows, his manners were none of the best.

The young Geese began to like him less than ever. However, they put a good face on it, and answered him: “Well, Streaky, if you are as weak as all that, we will carry you on a stick.”

These Geese were very big, strong birds, and they thought nothing of carrying Streaky. So they looked about until they found a strong stick, and then each of them took an end in his mouth, and Streaky perched in the middle. They could not say good-bye to Mrs. Crow, because their mouths were full of the stick, but they made her a nice bow, like polite little Geese, and flew off.

As for Streaky, he was far too full of his own importance to say good-bye to his mother, or even so much as “Thank you” to the two birds who were so kindly carrying him. There he sat, on the middle of the stick, as proud as Punch, pluming his feathers, and feeling that now all the world would see what a splendid bird he was.

As they flew over the city Streaky looked down, and saw the king of the city, in a beautiful carriage drawn by four white thoroughbreds, driving round the city in great state and grandeur. “Aha!” thought he, “that’s as it should be! But I’m every bit as good as he!” and in his joy he began to sing a little song which he made up on the spur of the moment, and here is his song:
As yonder king goes galloping with his milk-white four-in-hand,
Streaky has these, his pair of Geese, to carry him over the land!

The Geese were very angry when they heard Streaky sing this song. But they were very well-bred Geese, as you must have seen already; so they said nothing at all to him then, but carried him safely to their home, and then they told their father what Streaky had said, so that he might do as he thought best.

Old King Goose was more angry than they were, and was very sorry he had left his son to be brought up by a Crow who knew no manners. So he called Streaky, and this is what he said: “Streaky, you have been very rude to your brothers, who are at least as good as you; and if you think they are like a pair of horses, to be driven about for your pleasure, you make a great mistake. So the best thing you can do is to fly back to your mother; for your manners suit the dust-heap better than the mountains.”

I don’t know whether Streaky was ashamed of what he had said; creatures like Streaky are very thick-skinned, and it takes a great deal to make them ashamed; but anyhow he had to go back, and this time he must fly by himself, for it was hardly likely that his brothers would carry him when he had been so rude. He got back a few days later, tired and hungry, and spent the rest of his days on the dust-heap, eating carrion. What his mother thought of it all I don’t know; but King Goose never went to see them any more.

0147. The Quail and the Falcon

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. TThe traditional title of this story is Sakunagghi Jataka.

Summary: The falcon catches a quail but, in the end, it is the quail who is the winner.

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THE QUAIL AND THE FALCON

 

(W. Robinson)

There once was a young Quail that lived on a farm. When the farmer ploughed up the land, Quailie used to hop about over the clods and pick up seeds, or weeds, or worms, or anything that the plough turned up, and he ate these and lived on them.

You might think this was very nice for him; he had no trouble to find food, because the ploughman turned it up; he had only to hop along after the plough and peck. Not a bit of it; he must needs better himself, as he said; so one fine day he flew away over the farm, away to the forest which fringed it; and, alighting on the ground just where the forest began, he looked about to see if there was anything good to eat.

Up in the air, just above the tree-tops, a Falcon was sailing, poised on outstretched wings; as Quailie searched for worms, so the Falcon was searching for quails; and lo and behold, he spied one! Down he came with a swoop and a whirr, and in an instant the Quail was in his crooked claws.

What could poor Quailie do now? He twittered and fluttered, and at last began to cry.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” whimpered Quailie, the tears running down his beak; “what a fool I was to poach on other people’s preserves! If I had only stayed at home this Falcon could never have caught me, not even if he had come and tried!”

“What’s that, Quailie?” asked the Falcon. “Do you think I can’t catch you anywhere?”

“Not on my own ground!” cried the Quail.

“What do you mean by that?”

“A ploughed field full of clods.”

“Oh, nonsense, Quailie, clods won’t help you. Just try; off you go! I’ll follow.”

The Quail flew off, feeling as happy now as he was miserable a moment gone; and when he got back to his farm he picked out a big clod and perched on the top. “Come on, Falcon!” cried he; “come on!”

Down came the Falcon with a swoop like a flash of lightning; but just as he came close the Quail dodged him nimbly and tumbled over the clod to the other side, leaving the Falcon to come full tilt against the clod of earth; and so swift was he, that the shock killed him.

So the Quail found out how much better it is for most people to stick to what they are used to; and as for the Falcon, he might have thought, if he had been able to think at all, that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

0145. Silence is Golden

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Sihakotthuka Jataka.

Summary: A young jackal-lion cub looks like a lion, but he does not sound like one.

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SILENCE IS GOLDEN

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time a Lion had a she-jackal for his mate, and they had a young one. This Cub was just like his sire to look at, in shape and colour, mane and claws; but in voice he took after his dam. So you would fancy he was a lion, so long as he held his tongue. This Cub used to play about with the young Lions, and merry times they had to be sure, tumbling head over heels, and trying to knock each other down.

One day, in the midst of their game, the mongrel Cub thought he would frighten them; so he opened his mouth wide, intending to roar, and all that came out was a yelp like the yelp of a jackal.

The other young Lions were quite shocked; they could not imagine what strange creature this was. One of them went up to the old Lion, who was watching them, and said:
Lion’s claws and lion’s paws
Lion’s feet to stand upon;
But the bellow of this fellow
Sounds not like a lion’s son!

“You are right,” said the old Lion; “his dam was a Jackal.”

And then, turning to the poor Cub, who was looking very crestfallen, he said:
All will see what kind you be
If you yelp as once before;
So don’t try it, but keep quiet,
Yours is not a lion’s roar.

The poor Cub slunk away with his tail between his legs, while the other Lions sniffed and turned up their noses at him. Ever after that he took good care to hold his tongue when he was in the company of his betters.

0144. Union is Strength

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. You can see another version of the story here: The Quarrel of the Quails.

Summary: The wise quail urges his fellow birds to cooperate, but when he cannot stop them from quarreling, with fatal results.

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UNION IS STRENGTH

(W. Robinson)

There once was a clever Fowler who used to hunt quails. He could imitate the quail’s note exactly; and when he had found a hiding-place, he used to sit hidden in it, and call out the quail’s note, until a number of quails had come together; then he threw a net over them, and bagged them all.

But amongst the quails was one very clever bird, and he hit on the following device: He told the quails, when they felt the net drop over them, that each one should pop his head through one of the meshes of the net, and then at the word, away they should fly together.

All fell out as he arranged. Next day the Fowler sounded his imitation of the quail’s note, and the birds flocked from far and near; then, when a good many had gathered in a clump within his reach, he cast the net, which fell over them and made them all prisoners. They all did what the wise Quail had told them; each quail put his head through one of the meshes, then at a word they were all away together, bearing the net with them. After some little time they saw a large bush, and dropped upon this bush; then the net was held up by the bush, while all the birds got away underneath.

Again and again this happened, until the Fowler began to despair; he came home every night empty-handed, and besides that he had lost ever so many nets.

Why did he keep on trying to catch them, then? Because he thought that sooner or later they would begin to quarrel, and then the game would be his.

And quarrel they soon did. One Quail happened to tread on another’s toe.

“What are you doing, clumsy?” said the second Quail angrily.

“I’m very sorry,” said the first; “I really did not mean to tread on your toe.”

“You did!”

“I tell you I didn’t!”

“What a lie!”

“A lie, is it? Hoity, toity, how high-and-mighty we are, to be sure! I suppose it is you lift up the net, all by yourself, when the man throws it over us!”

And so they went on, getting angrier and angrier. And the result was, that next day, when the fowler made his cast, said the first Quail to the second: “Now then, Samson, lift away! They say that last time your feathers all fell off your head!”

“Oh, indeed! They say that when you tried to lift, both your wings moulted! Lift away, and let us see if it is true!”

But while they were quarrelling, and each telling the other to lift the net, the Fowler lifted it for them, and crammed them all together into his basket, and took them home for supper.

0143. The Cunning Crane and the Crab

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. You can see another version of the story here: The Crab and the Crane.

Summary: A deceitful crane manages to fool the fish into putting their trust in the crane's help; the crab is not so easily fooled.

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THE CUNNING CRANE AND THE CRAB

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time a number of fish lived in a little pool. It was all very well while there was rain; but when summer came, and it began to be very hot, the water dried up and got lower and lower, until there was hardly enough to hide the fish.

Now not far away there was a beautiful lake, always fresh and cool; for it lay under the shadow of great trees, and it was covered all over with water-lilies. And a Crane lived on the banks of this lake.

The Crane used to eat fish, when he could catch any; and one day, coming to the little pool, he saw all the fish gasping in it, and thought of a neat trick to get hold of them without trouble.

“Dear Fish,” said the Crane, “I am so sorry to see you cooped up in this hole. I know a beautiful lake close by, deep and fresh and cool, and if you like I will carry you there.”

The Fish did not know what to make of this, because never since the world began had a crane done a good turn to a fish. You see it is just as absurd to suppose that a crane would help fish, as to think that a cat would be kind to a mouse.

So they said to the Crane, “We don’t believe you; what you want is to eat us.”

This was just what the Crane did want, but he did not say so. “No, no!” said he; “I’m not so cruel as all that. I have eaten a fish now and then”—he saw it was of no use denying that, because they knew he had—“but I have plenty of other food, and it goes to my heart to see you here. In this hot water you will all be boiled fish before long!”

“That’s true enough,” said the Fish; “the water is hot.”

Well, the end of it was, they persuaded an old Fish with one eye to go and see. The Crane took the one-eyed Fish in his beak and put him in the lake; and when he had seen that what the Crane said was true so far, he carried the Fish back again to tell the others.

The old Fish could not say enough to praise the lake. “It’s ever so big,” he said, “and deep and cool, just as the Crane said; and there are trees overshadowing it, and water-lilies are growing in the mud; and the whole of it is covered with fine fat flies! Ah, what a feast I have had!” And he rolled up his one eye at the thought of it.

Then all the Fish were eager to go. And now it was who should be first; every Fish was anxious to remain no longer in the pool. They came to the top of the water, all begging the Crane to take them to this beautiful lake.

“One at a time!” said the Crane. “I have only one beak, you know!” And he smiled to himself, for that beak was made to eat fish, not to carry them.

However, it was decided that as the one-eyed Fish had been so brave as to trust himself in the Crane’s beak, before he knew what the truth was, he certainly deserved to go first.

So the Crane took the one-eyed Fish in his beak, and carried him over to the lake. But this time he did not drop the Fish in; he laid him in the cleft of a tree, and pecked his one eye out with his beak; then he killed him, and ate him up, and dropped his bones at the foot of the tree.

By-and-by the Crane came back for another. “Now then, who’s next?” asked the Crane. “Old One-eye is swimming about, as happy as a king!” He picked up another fish, and served him like the first, dropping his bones at the foot of the tree.

And so it went on, until in a few days the pool was empty. The cunning Crane had eaten every single one of the fish! He stood on the bank, peering into every hole, to see whether there might not be a little one left somewhere. There was one, surely! No, it was a Crab. Never mind, he thought; all’s fish that comes to my net!

So he invited the Crab to come with him to the lake.

“Why, how are you going to carry me?” asked the Crab.

“In my beak, to be sure!” replied the Crane.

“You might drop me,” said the Crab, “and then I should split.”

“Oh no, I promise I won’t drop you!” said the Crane.

But the Crab had more sense than all the fish put together, and he did not believe in the Crane’s friendship at all. So he still pretended to hesitate, and at last he said: “Well, I’ll tell you what. I can hold on tighter with my claws than you can with your beak. I’ll come, but you must let me hold on to your neck with my claws. Then I shall feel safe.”

The Crane was so hungry that, without stopping to think, he agreed; and then the Crab got tight hold of his neck with his claws, and the Crane carried him towards the lake.

But after a while the Crab saw that he was being carried somewhere else, indeed to that tree where the Crane used to sit and eat the fish.

“Crane dear,” said he, “aren’t you going to put me in the lake?”

“Crane dear, indeed!” said the Crane, “do you suppose I was born to carry crabs about? Not I! Just look at that heap of bones under yon tree! Those are the bones of the fish that used to live in your pool. I ate them, and I’m going to eat you!”

“Are you, though!” said the Crab, and gave the Crane’s neck a little nip.

Then the Crane saw what a fool he had been to let a Crab put a claw round his neck. He knew that the Crab could kill him if he liked, and he was frightened to death at the thought. People who try to deceive others often pay for it themselves; and that is what happened to the Crane.

“Dear Crab!” said he, with tears streaming from his eyes, “forgive me! I won’t kill you, only let me go!”

“Just put me in the lake, then,” said the Crab.

The Crane stepped down to the lakeside, and laid the Crab upon the mud. And the Crab, as soon as he felt himself safe, nipped off the Crane’s head as clean as if it had been cut with a knife.

So perished the treacherous Crane, caught by his own trick. And the Crab lived happily in the beautiful lake for the rest of his life.

0142. Spend a Pound to Win a Penny

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. See the notes to this version of the story: The Penny-Wise Monkey. In that version, a king learns not to be greedy by observing the monkey.

Summary: A foolish monkey goes chasing after one dropped pea.

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SPEND A POUND TO WIN A PENNY

 (W. Robinson)

Some people were steaming peas under a tree, in order to make a meal for their horses. Up in the branches sat a Monkey, who watched with his restless eyes what they were doing.

“Aha!” thought the Monkey. “I spy my dinner!”

So when they had finished steaming the peas, and turned away for a moment to look after the horses, gently, gently, the Monkey let himself down from the tree. He grabbed at the peas, and stuffed his mouth with them, and both hands as full as they could hold, then he clambered up to his perch as best he could. There he sat, his wizened old face happy and cunning, eating the peas.

Suddenly one pea fell.

“O dear, O dear! O my pea, my pea!” cried the Monkey, gibbering in distress. The other peas began to fall out of his mouth, but he did not notice them. He wrung his hands in despair, and the peas began to fall out of his hands too, but he took no notice. All he thought of was this, that one pea was gone.

So he shinned down the trunk, and scrambled about on the ground, hunting for his lost pea, but he could not find it anywhere.

By this time the men had come back, after seeing to their horses. When they saw a monkey meddling with their cooking-pots they all waved their arms, and called out, “Shoo! shoo!” Then they picked up stones, and began to pelt the Monkey with them. This terrified the Monkey so much that he gave one jump to the nearest branch, and swung himself up to the top of the tree.

“After all,” said he to himself, “it was only one pea.” But he ought to have thought of that before, for now like a thunderclap, it came home to him, that somehow or other all the other peas had gone too.

That day the Monkey had to content himself with the smell of boiled peas for dinner, and I hope the loss taught him not to be so greedy in future.

0140. The Pious Wolf

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Vaka Jataka. In this jataka, the Buddha has taken birth as Sakka, king of the devas, although Rouse changes that to a "fairy" in his retelling; here is Rouse's translation which includes Sakka.

Summary: A wolf declares that he will be fasting, but he cannot resist the sight of a tempting young goat.

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THE PIOUS WOLF

(W. Robinson)

Once there was a flood, and there was a large rock with a Wolf sleeping on the top. The water came pouring around the rock, and when the Wolf awoke he found himself imprisoned, with no way of getting off, and nothing to eat.

“H’m!” said he to himself, “here I am, caught fast sure enough, and here I shall have to stay yet awhile. Nothing to eat, either! Well,” he thought, after a pause, “it is Friday to-day, when people say you ought to fast. Suppose I keep a holy fast to-day? A capital idea!”

So he crossed his paws, and pretended to pray, and thought himself very good and pious to be fasting.

A fairy saw this, and heard what he said; and she thought she would just see how much was real and how much was sham. So she changed herself into the shape of a pretty little Kid, and jumped down out of the air on to the rock.

The Wolf opened an eye to see what the noise could be, and there was a tender little Kid, standing on the rock. He forgot his prayers in a minute. “Aha!” said he. “A Kid! I can keep my Friday fast to-morrow. Now for the Kid!” He smacked his lips, and jumped at the Kid.

But the Kid jumped away, and, try as he would, he could not come near it. You know it was the fairy, and the fairy did not let herself be caught.

After trying to catch the Kid for some time the Wolf lay down again. “After all,” said he, “it is Friday; and perhaps I had best keep my fast to-day.”

“You humbug!” said the fairy, who had gone back to her proper shape; “you are a nice creature to pretend that you are keeping fast! You fast because you can’t help it, not because you are really good. As a punishment, you shall stay on this rock till next Friday, and fast for a week!”

So saying, she opened her wings and flew far away.

0138. The Goblin in the Pool

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. See the notes to this version of the story: The Monkeys and the Hollow Canes.

Summary: The wise monkey king and his monkey troop confront a fierce water-goblin who refuses to let them drink the water of his pool.

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THE GOBLIN IN THE POOL

 (W. Robinson)

Animals in the forest have no bottles and glasses to drink out of, so if they are thirsty they have to go down to a pool. Now in a certain great forest there was a pool, in which lived a horrible Goblin. He was big and black, like an immense monkey, with an immense mouth, and four rows of sharp teeth; but he could not come out of the water, because he had no nose, but only gills like a fish. So if any animal came down into the water to get a drink, he pounced upon him at once and gobbled him up; but he could not touch the animals while they remained on the bank.

One year there was a great drought, and the sun was so hot that it dried up all the water in that forest for many miles round, except the pool where this Goblin was; but this pool was very deep and cool, under the trees, and therefore it was not dried up. There was a herd of monkeys who had been wandering about for a long time in search of water, but found none, until they came to this pool. But the King of the Monkeys was very clever, and he noticed that there were a great many footprints going down to the water, and none coming away. So he warned his Monkeys not to go near that pool.

However, one of them was very thirsty, and ran down into the water; but as soon as he got into the water, and was having a delicious drink—suddenly he disappeared! There were some bubbles, and no more was seen of the Monkey.

The other Monkeys watched for a long time, wondering what had become of their friend; and then another, who was so thirsty that he could not help it, stepped quietly into the water and began to drink. In an instant he gave a shriek and threw up his hands, and the others saw him dragged down below the water! A few bubbles came up to the top and burst, but the poor Monkey was gone.

What were they to do? They were dying of thirst, and yet they were afraid to drink; the banks were high, and they could not reach the water from the top. So they all sat round the banks, looking at the water, very unhappy.

By-and-by a man came down to the side of the pool. He wanted a drink of water, but he had no glass. So he looked round, and then he saw the Monkeys sitting on the bank, very unhappy.

“What’s the matter?” said he.

“Don’t go into that pool!” said the King of the Monkeys. “If you do, you will be drowned, like our two poor friends!”

Then they told him how their friends had gone into the water to drink, and how they had both been pulled underneath and drowned, none of them could tell how.

The man understood at once that it was a Goblin. So he pulled up a long reed that was growing on the bank of the pool and cut off the ends, and then he put down one end of it into the water and sucked at the other end, and the water came up from the pool into his mouth. At this the Monkeys were delighted, and they all pulled up reeds from the bank (for you know a monkey always imitates what he sees men do), and sucked up the water through them, and so quenched their thirst without going into the pool. And the Goblin, finding that no more food was to be got, died of starvation; and a good thing too.

0137. The Grateful Beasts and the Ungrateful Prince

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. See the notes to this version of the story: Prince Wicked.

Summary: When a poor man rescues a wicked prince along with some animals, the animals show their gratitude, but the prince hates the man; in the end, gratitude triumphs.

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THE GRATEFUL BEASTS AND THE UNGRATEFUL PRINCE

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a King, and he had a son. And this son was so cruel and disagreeable, that he took a delight in hurting people, and never spoke to anybody without an oath or a blow. He was a thorn in the flesh to everybody he came across; he was like grit in the porridge, like a fly in the eye, like a stone in the shoon. And they called him the Wicked Prince.

One day the Wicked Prince went down to the river to bathe, along with a number of servants. By-and-by a great storm came on, and the clouds were so thick that it became pitch-dark. However, this Prince was obstinate, and would not give up his bathe; and as he was too lazy even to bathe himself, he swore at his servants, and said: “You lazy beasts! Bathe me, and look sharp about it, or I’ll tickle you with a cat-o’-nine-tails!”

Now the servants had had enough of this young bully; and thought they, “What if we pitch him into the river, where the current is strong, and just leave him there! We can easily pretend he was carried away where we could not reach him; and if the King finds us out, and puts us to death—anyhow, death is better than his eternal bullying.”

So they pitched him head over heels into the water, though he screamed and struggled, and then they went home and told the King that he had gone in to bathe, and a flood carried him away. I daresay it was wicked of them to tell such a lie, but it was more the Prince’s fault than theirs.

Meanwhile the Prince had got hold of a tree that had been torn up by the roots, and climbing upon it, went floating down the river.

Now on the banks of this river lived a Snake. This Snake had once been a very rich man, and he had buried a vast treasure on the river bank; and he loved his riches more than he loved his own soul, so when he died, he was born again as a Snake, and had to live for ever close to his buried hoard. And a Rat that lived close by had also been a man once, and buried his money as the Snake had done, instead of using it in doing good; so he was born as a Rat, and made a hole where his money lay. These two creatures were caught by the flood, and it so happened that they saw the tree where the Wicked Prince was, and swimming to it, each got on one end, while the Prince was in the middle. And a young Parrot flying through the air, was beaten down by the rain; for in that country the drops of rain are as big as pigeons’ eggs, and no birds can fly through it. Then it so happened that this Parrot dropped down upon the same tree where the Snake was, and the Rat, and the Wicked Prince; and so there were four of them on the tree, floating down the river.

As the tree came near to a bend in the river, it was washed close to the bank. And on the bank a man was sitting. He did not mind the rain a bit, because he was a Hermit, who thought the world so wicked that he left it and went to live in the jungle all by himself. He built himself a little hut by the riverside, and, wet or fine, he cared not a jot.

This man saw the tree, and managed to catch hold of it and pull it ashore. Then he got the four creatures off it, and took them into his hut, and dried them and warmed them by the fire. But he began with the Parrot, because she looked the most miserable of them all; and then he dried the Rat; and next the Snake; and only attended to the man when he had comforted the other three. This made the Wicked Prince very angry. If he abused even those who made much of him, you may imagine how he cursed and swore in his heart at this man who left him to the last! But he said nothing, because he was afraid that if he did the man might turn him out in the storm again.

In a day or two the rain stopped, and the flood went down; and the creatures were all right again as they took their leave of the Hermit. The Snake thanked him for his kindness and said: “You have saved my life, good Hermit! What can I do for you? You seem to be a poor man; I am rich, and if you ever want money just come to my hole and call ‘Snake,’ and you shall have all my treasure. Good-bye!”

The Rat said the same.

The Parrot was very sorry to think that she had no money, so she said: “Silver and gold have I none; but if you ever are hungry, and want some rice, come to my tree and call ‘Parrot,’ and I’ll get you as much rice as ever you like.”

But the Wicked Prince hated this kind Hermit, because he had been left to the last. However, he pretended to be grateful, and said to the Hermit: “I hope you will pay me a visit soon. I am a Prince, and I shall be glad of a chance to repay you for all you have done for me.” Then he went away, chuckling to think how he would torment the poor Hermit, if ever he got him into his power.

This Hermit had all his wits about him, and he knew that people often promise what they never mean to do; so after a while he thought he would put them all to the test. So first he took his stick, and journeyed to the city where the Wicked Prince lived. The Prince, who was King himself now, saw him coming, and thought to himself: “Aha! here’s that rascal that left me to the last. Wants me to pay him for it, I suppose! Well, I’ll pay him! I’ll pay him out!” So he called to his men: “Hi there, brutes! Do you see that fellow? He tried to rob me the other day—just catch him and give him a flogging, and then stick a stake through his body, and leave him to die!”

Then the servants caught the Hermit, and flogged him well. But the Hermit did not cry out or grumble, only kept on saying to himself quietly: “The proverb’s true, the proverb’s true!”

“What proverb do you mean?” they asked him.

“It’s unlucky to save a drowning man,” said the Hermit.

Then he told them the whole story, and very angry they were when they heard it. They stopped beating the Hermit at once, and seizing the Wicked King, they beat him instead, and stuck a stake through his body, and left him to die. Then they made the Hermit King instead of the Wicked Prince.

And the Hermit took them a walk into the country, and when they came to the Snake’s hole he called out “Snake!” Out came the Snake, and curled up against his feet, and showed him the hole where his treasure was; and the Hermit gave it all to his servants.

And then they went to the Rat’s hole, and he called out “Rat!” And the Rat ran up, and rubbed his nose against the King’s hand, and gave him all his treasure, which the King gave to his servants as well as the other.

And last of all they went to the Parrot’s tree, and called “Parrot!” And the Parrot flew up and gave a call, and instantly all the air was black with Parrots. And all the Parrots carried a grain of rice in their beaks, and dropped it on the ground; and there was such a heap of rice, that it was enough to feed all the people for the rest of their lives.

So the grateful beasts kept their promise, and the ungrateful Prince was killed, and the Hermit ruled over his people kindly, and they all lived happily until they died. And when they died they all went to heaven; and the Snake and the Rat and the Parrot went there too, because they had at last overcome their love of money, and given it away to show how grateful they were to the Hermit for being kind to them.

0136. The Goblin and the Sneeze

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Gagga Jataka. The "goblin" in this story is a yaksha; you can learn more about yakshas at Wikipedia.

Summary: A father and son pass the night in a house haunted by a goblin that devours people who sneeze.

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THE GOBLIN AND THE SNEEZE

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a very powerful Goblin, who haunted a little house just outside the gates of a city. Nobody else lived in this house. There was a big black beam that ran across from one side to the other, up in the roof; and there this Goblin perched. For twelve years he had served the King of the Goblins faithfully, and as a reward he was now permitted to gobble up any man who sneezed inside that house; and, indeed, that is why these creatures are called Goblins. But if, when a man sneezed, some one else said, “God bless you!” as people do say, or “May you live a hundred years!” then the man who said it was free; and if the other answered, “The same to you!” he was free too. Everybody but these the Goblin might gobble up for a single sneeze.

Now it fell out that one day a father and son were travelling along the road, and they came to the city gates just as the sun went down. I must tell you that in those days the people used to shut the city gates fast at sunset, and nothing would make them open again till the morning—they were horribly afraid of robbers or wild soldiers, who might come and damage them in the night. So when these two wayfarers came up to the gates, and wanted to go in, the porter said no.

“Now, do we look like robbers?” asked the father. Certainly they did not, dusty and grimy with their trudge, and a bag of tools over the shoulder.

“Robbers or no robbers, orders are orders,” said the porter, “and this gate doesn’t open for the King himself.”

“Well, what are we to do?” The poor fellow was in despair.

“Oh, there’s an empty house outside; there it is among the trees. It is haunted, they say; but I daresay the Goblin won’t hurt you.”

“Goblin!—Well, we must take our chance, I suppose.” Indeed, there was nothing for it; so to the house they went. They rested, and cooked a meal for themselves on a fire of sticks, and then prepared to go to sleep.

The Goblin, however, was not going to let them off so easily; he wanted his dinner too. After waiting a long time, with never a sneeze from one or the other, he raised a cloud of fine dust; that was rather mean of him, but still he was very hungry, and did not stick at trifles. Sure enough, the father nearly sneezed his head off.

The Goblin chuckled, and made ready to pounce from his perch and devour the pair of them. But the son happened to see him, and, being a sharp lad, he guessed the truth. “God bless you, father!” says he; “may you live a hundred years!”

How the Goblin gnashed his teeth! However, if his pudding was lost, his meat was left; so he stretched out a great claw to clutch the father and tear him to pieces.

Just then the father cried, “Thank you, my son, and the same to you!”

He was only just in time; the claw was within an inch of his throat; but the Goblin, baffled, flew up to his perch again, and sat mouthing and mumbling there.

Then the son began to talk to this Goblin, and showed him the error of his ways, and how cruel he was to eat men; and the end of it was, he persuaded the Goblin to become a vegetarian, and to follow him about, and be his errand-boy. You will think this was a very soft-hearted Goblin. Perhaps no one had ever spoken kindly to him before; anyhow, whatever the reason was, he went out with the two travellers, as tame as a tabby cat; and for all I know, they may be travelling together to this very day.

0135. The Monkeys and the Gardener

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. See the notes to this version of the story: The Stupid Monkeys.

Summary: A gardener thinks he can trust the monkeys to help him with the gardening; this was not a good idea.

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THE MONKEYS AND THE GARDENER

 (W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a beautiful park, full of all manner of trees and shrubs, with beds of flowers set here and there, and no end of fruit-trees. A gardener used to take care of this park; pruning the trees when they made too much wood, and digging the ground, and watering the flowers in dry weather.

It happened that there was a fair to be held away in the city, and the gardener very much wanted to go. But who would take care of the park and garden? If his master came in and found all the flowers drooping or dead, what would he say then! It would never do.

Meditating thus, and in doubt, he looked up into the branches of the trees, and a bright thought struck him. I must tell you that in this park there were not only herds of deer, and plenty of rabbits and other creatures that usually live in parks, but there were troops of monkeys in the trees, who climbed and chattered and cracked nuts all day long, with no lessons to do. And when the gardener cast up his eyes to the trees, he saw some monkeys that he knew very well indeed. Many a time he had been kind to them; and now he thought they should do the like by him, as one good turn deserves another.

So the gardener called out, “Monkeys, I want you!”

Down they all clambered, and in a very short time they were sitting beside him on the grass.

“Monkeys,” said he, “I have been a good friend to you, letting you eat my nuts and apples. And now I want to take a holiday. Will you water my garden while I am away?”

“Oh yes, yes, yes!” cried the Monkeys. They thought it a great joke, and leaped for joy.

So the gardener handed over his watering-pots to the monkeys, and put on his Sunday clothes, and went away to the fair.

Meanwhile, the Monkeys held a solemn council, sitting in a ring round the Monkey chief.

“Brothers,” said the Monkey chief, “our good friend, the gardener has given us charge of this garden and all there is in it. We must take care not to hurt anything, and, above all, not to waste the water. There is very little water, and I really don’t think it will go round.”

It was in fact a well, very small at the top, but very deep, and at the bottom the water was always running. You might have watered till doomsday out of that well; but monkeys, though they are cunning, are not wise, and these monkeys thought that a little round hole could not hold very much water.

“So you see,” the Monkey chief went on, “you must give each plant just enough water, and no more; and I think the best way will be, to see how long the roots are.”

So each Monkey took a watering-pot, and they scattered all over the garden. Every bush and every plant they carefully pulled up, and measured its roots; and then they gave a great deal of water to plants with long roots, and only a little when the roots were short. After that they put the plants and bushes back in the holes they came from.

After a day or two, back came the gardener from his fair. But what was his horror to see that nearly all the plants in the garden were drooping, some of them dead and many dying, while the Monkeys were busy in every direction pulling up the rest.

“Oh dear, oh dear, what in the world are you doing? My garden is ruined, my garden is ruined!” The poor gardener wept for sorrow.

The Chief Monkey was very much surprised. He thought he had been very clever to put water according to the size of the roots, and he said so.

“Clever!” said the gardener. “Clever indeed! Fools you are, there is no mistake about it.”

“Fools they may be,” said his master, who had come up behind him without being seen, “but, after all, that is their nature. You ought to have known better than to put monkeys in charge of a garden, and you are a greater fool than they.”

Then he sent that gardener away and got another.

(W. Robinson)

0134. The Talkative Tortoise

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. See the notes to this version of the story: The Tortoise and the Geese.

Summary: Two geese help their friend, a tortoise, to go flying.

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THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a Tortoise that lived in a pond. He was a most worthy Tortoise, but he had one fault, he would talk in season and out of season; all day long it was chatter, chatter, chatter in that pond, until the fish said that they would rather live on dry land than put up with it any longer.

But the Tortoise had two friends, a pair of young Geese, who used to fly about near the pond in search of food. And when they heard that things were getting hot for the Tortoise in that pond, because he talked so much, they flew up to him and cried eagerly:

“Oh, Tortoise! do come along with us! We have such a beautiful home away in the mountains, where you may talk all day long, and nobody shall worry you there!”

“All very well,” grumbled the Tortoise, “but how am I to get there? I can’t fly!”

“Oh, we’ll carry you, if you can only keep your mouth shut for a little while.”

“Yes, I can do that,” says he, “when I like. Let us be off.”

So the Geese picked up a stout stick, and one Goose took one end in her bill and the other Goose took the other end, and then they told the Tortoise to get hold in the middle; “only be careful,” said they, “not to talk.”

The Tortoise set his teeth fast on the stick, and held on like grim death, while the Geese, flapping their strong wings, rose in the air and flew towards their home.

All went well for a time. But it so happened that some boys were looking up in the air, and were highly amused by what they saw.

“Look there!” cried one to the rest, “two Geese carrying a Tortoise on a stick!”

The Tortoise on hearing this was so angry that he forgot all about his danger, and opened his mouth to cry out: “What’s that to you? Mind your own business!”

But he got no farther than the first word; for when his mouth opened he loosed the stick, down he dropped, and fell with a crash on the stones.

The talkative Tortoise lay dead, with his shell cracked in two.

0133. The Mouse and the Farmer

From The Giant Crab, and Other Tales from Old India by W. H. D. Rouse with illustrations by W. Robinson, online at: Internet Archive.

Notes. The traditional title of this story is Babbu Jataka. In the traditional story, the mouse is an incarnation of a rich man's wife who guards the treasure, and the Bodhisatta is a stonecutter, not a farmer. You can read more in the Chalmers translation.

Summary: A mouse rewards her farmer friend and, in return, the farmer helps the mouse in her struggle with the cat.

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THE MOUSE AND THE FARMER

(W. Robinson)

Once upon a time there was a Mouse, who made his hole in a place where there were thousands and thousands of golden sovereigns buried in the ground. Now there was a Farmer who owned the land where this treasure was buried; but he did not know about it, or else of course he would have dug it up. He often noticed the little Mouse sitting with his head peeping out of the hole, but as he was a very kind Farmer, he never hurt the Mouse; and now and then when he was having his own dinner, he would throw the Mouse a bit of cheese.

The Mouse was very grateful to the Farmer, and wondered what he could do to show it. At last he thought of the treasure; for this Mouse was sensible enough to know that Farmers are very pleased to get a golden sovereign now and again. So one day, as the Farmer went by the hole, Mousie ran out with a golden sovereign in his mouth, and dropped it at the Farmer’s feet. You can imagine how glad the Farmer was to see a golden sovereign. Indeed, it was the first one he had seen since the Corn Laws were abolished. So he thanked the Mouse, and went down to the village, and bought him a beautiful piece of meat. After this the Mouse every day brought the Farmer a golden sovereign, and every day the Farmer gave him a big chunk of meat. Thus in a few weeks Mousie grew quite fat.

But the Farmer had a big black cat that used to prowl about watching for mice. It used never to notice the Farmer’s own favourite Mouse while the Mouse was thin; but when he grew sleek and fat and shiny, Grimalkin (which was the Cat’s name) lay in wait for him one day and pounced upon him. Poor little Mousie was terrified.

“Please don’t kill me, Mr. Grimalkin!” said Mousie.

“Why not? I’m hungry and you are fat!”

“But, sir, if you eat me now, you’ll be hungry to-morrow, won’t you?”

“Of course I shall!” said Grimalkin.

“Well,” said Mousie, who had suddenly thought of a plan; “if you will only let me go, I’ll bring you a beautiful juicy piece of meat every day!”

This was a tempting offer for Grimalkin, who was a lazy Cat, and liked sitting by the fire, and licking himself all over, better than hunting for mice.

“All right,” said he; “only if you leave out one day, you’re a dead mouse!” Then, with a frightful spit, bristling up all his whiskers and eyebrows, Grimalkin ran away.

So next day, when the Farmer gave Mousie his dinner, Mousie carried it off to the black Cat, and the black Cat spat and swore and ate it up, and away ran Mousie trembling. But by degrees Mousie grew thinner and thinner, because Grimalkin always had his dinner; and soon he was nothing but skin and bone.

Then the Farmer noticed how thin his Mouse had become, so one day he asked the Mouse whether he was ill.

“No,” said Mousie, “I’m not ill.”

“What is the matter, then?” asked the Farmer.

“I never get any dinner now,” said Mousie, with tears running down over his nose, “because Grimalkin eats it all!” Then he told the Farmer about the bargain he had made with Grimalkin.

Now the Farmer had a beautiful piece of glass, with a hole in the middle. I think it was an inkstand, but I am not sure. So he took this piece of glass and put Mousie inside it, and turned it upside down upon the ground in front of Mousie’s hole. “Now,” said he, “next time Grimalkin comes for your dinner, tell him you have none for him, and see what will happen.”

So next day up comes Grimalkin for his dinner, spitting and looking very fierce.

“Meat! Meat!” says he to the Mouse.

“Get off, vile thief!” says Mousie; “I’ve no meat for the likes of you!”

At this Grimalkin could hardly believe his ears. He was in a rage, I can tell you; and, without stopping to think, pounced upon Mousie, and swallowed him, inkstand and all. You see, as it was all glass, Grimalkin did not know that there was any inkstand there, because he saw the Mouse through it.

Now cats can digest a good deal, but they can’t digest a glass inkstand. So Grimalkin, when he had swallowed the Mouse and the inkstand, felt a pain inside; and this got worse and worse, until at last he died.

And then Mousie crept out of the inkstand, and crawled up through Grimalkin’s throat, and went back to his hole again. And there he lived all his life in happiness, every day bringing a golden sovereign to the Farmer, who gave him every day a beautiful dinner of meat.