Bangaru kodi pilla Story

Interdependence

In a clearing, deep in the forest, the trees were having a pre-dawn discussion.

“Animals come and rest in our shade but they leave a mess behind,” said the Jamun. “The smell on some days is unbearable!”

“They show no concern for us because we’re silent,” said the Sal. “But I’ve had enough! I’ve made up my mind to drive away any animal that comes here!”

“That may not be a wise thing to do,” said the Peepul, the oldest and biggest tree there. “The animals are a nuisance, I agree, but they serve a useful purpose. We are all inter-dependent—trees, animals, men . . .”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted the Sal. “I’ve great respect for your views but in this matter I will not listen to anyone. I won’t allow animals here any more!”

True to his word when a leopard came to rest in the shade later that day, the Sal began to shake violently from side to side. The leopard, frightened out of his wits, jumped up and ran. The Sal drove away all the animals that came to the clearing that day and in the days that followed. In course of time animals stopped coming to that part of the forest.

The Sal became a great hero to the younger trees in the neighbourhood and even some of the older ones began bowing to him when the Peepul was not looking.

Then one day two woodcutters came to the clearing.

“Men!” gasped the Sal. “Why have they come here? They’ve never come here before.”

“If they’ve never come here before it was because they were afraid of the animals,” said the Peepul. “Now the absence of the leopard and the tiger has made them bold.”

The Sal began to tremble with fear and with good reason. It was the first tree the woodcutters chopped down.

The Power of a rumour

A hare resting under a banyan tree had a premonition of doom.

“What would happen to me if the earth were to break up?” he wondered. Suddenly, there was a ‘thud’ followed by a rumbling sound.

“It’s happened,” thought the hare, “the earth’s breaking up!”

He jumped up and ran.

“Why are you running?” asked a hare who crossed his path.

“The earth’s breaking up!” shouted the hare. “You’d better run too.”

The second hare ran so fast he overtook the first.

“The earth’s breaking up, the earth’s breaking up!” he shouted to other hares he passed. Soon thousands of hares were scampering through the forest.

Other animals got caught up in the panic. The word spread from mouth to mouth, and soon everyone knew: the earth was breaking up.

It was not long before the whole jungle was on the move. Reptiles, insects, birds and four-footed animals fled in wild disorder, and their cries of terror filled the air.

A lion standing on a hillock, saw the animals coming and wondered what was going on. He hastened down and positioning himself in front of the horde called for it to stop.

His commanding presence stemmed the rising tide of panic among the animals.

“The earth is breaking up!” shrieked a parrot, alighting on a rock near him.

“Who says so?”

“I heard it from the monkeys."

The monkeys said they had heard it from the tigers, who said their informants were the elephants, who gave the buffaloes as their source.When the hares were finally implicated they pointed one to another until the one who had started it all was identified.

“What makes you think the earth is breaking up?” the lion asked him.

“I heard it cracking with my own ears, sire,” squeaked the hare, trembling in fear.

The lion investigated the sound the hare had heard and found that it had been caused by a large coconut falling from a tree. It had landed on a pile of rocks, causing a minor landslide.

“Go back to your homes,” said the lion to the animals who had been running away, and who were now looking very foolish. “The earth’s safe. Next time, check a rumour before acting on it.”

The Story of the Greek King and the Physician Douban

The Story of the Greek King and the Physician Douban

In the country of Zouman, in Persia, there lived a Greek king. This king was a leper, and all his doctors had been unable to cure him, when a very clever physician came to his court.

He was very learned in all languages, and knew a great deal about herbs and medicines.

As soon as he was told of the king’s illness he put on his best robe and presented himself before the king. “Sire,” said he, “I know that no physician has been able to cure your majesty, but if you will follow my instructions, I will promise to cure you without any medicines or outward application.”

The king listened to this proposal.

“If you are clever enough to do this,” he said, “I promise to make you and your descendants rich for ever.”

The physician went to his house and made a polo club, the handle of which he hollowed out, and put in it the drug he wished to use. Then he made a ball, and with these things he went the next day to the king.

He told him that he wished him to play at polo. Accordingly the king mounted his horse and went into the place where he played. There the physician approached him with the bat he had made, saying, “Take this, sire, and strike the ball till you feel your hand and whole body in a glow. When the remedy that is in the handle of the club is warmed by your hand it will penetrate throughout your body. The you must return to your palace, bathe, and go to sleep, and when you awake to-morrow morning you will be cured.”

The king took the club and urged his horse after the ball which he had thrown. He struck it, and then it was hit back by the courtiers who were playing with him. When he felt very hot he stopped playing, and went back to the palace, went into the bath, and did all that the physician had said. The next day when he arose he found, to his great joy and astonishment, that he was completely cured. When he entered his audience-chamber all his courtiers, who were eager to see if the wonderful cure had been effected, were overwhelmed with joy.

The physician Douban entered the hall and bowed low to the ground. The king, seeing him, called him, made him sit by his side, and showed him every mark of honour.

That evening he gave him a long and rich robe of state, and presented him with two thousand sequins. The following day he continued to load him with favours.

Now the king had a grand-vizir who was avaricious, and envious, and a very bad man. He grew extremely jealous of the physician, and determined to bring about his ruin.

In order to do this he asked to speak in private with the king, saying that he had a most important communication to make.

“What is it?” asked the king.

“Sire,” answered the grand-vizir, “it is most dangerous for a monarch to confide in a man whose faithfulness is not proved, You do not know that this physician is not a traitor come here to assassinate you.”

“I am sure,” said the king, “that this man is the most faithful and virtuous of men. If he wished to take my life, why did he cure me? Cease to speak against him. I see what it is, you are jealous of him; but do not think that I can be turned against him. I remember well what a vizir said to King Sindbad, his master, to prevent him from putting the prince, his son, to death.”

What the Greek king said excited the vizir’s curiousity, and he said to him, “Sire, I beg your majesty to have the condescension to tell me what the vizir said to King Sindbad.”

“This vizir,” he replied, “told King Sindbad that one ought not believe everything that a mother-in-law says, and told him this story.”

The Story of the Second Old Man and of the Two Black Dogs

The Story of the Second Old Man and of the Two Black Dogs

Great prince of the genii, you must know that we are three brothers– these two black dogs and myself. Our father died, leaving us each a thousand sequins. With this sum we all three took up the same profession, and became merchants. A short time after we had opened our shops, my eldest brother, one of these two dogs, resolved to travel in foreign countries for the sake of merchandise. With this intention he sold all he had and bought merchandise suitable to the voyages he was about to make. He set out, and was away a whole year. At the end of this time a beggar came to my shop. “Good-day,” I said. “Good-day,” he answered; “is it possible that you do not recognise me?” Then I looked at him closely and saw he was my brother. I made him come into my house, and asked him how he had fared in his enterprise.’

“Do not question me,” he replied, “see me, you see all I have. It would but renew my trouble to tell of all the misfortunes that have befallen me in a year, and have brought me to this state.”

I shut up my shop, paid him every attention, taking him to the bath, giving him my most beautiful robes. I examined my accounts, and found that I had doubled my capital–that is, that I now possessed two thousand sequins. I gave my brother half, saying: “Now, brother, you can forget your losses.” He accepted them with joy, and we lived together as we had before.

Some time afterwards my second brother wished also to sell his business and travel. My eldest brother and I did all we could to dissuade him, but it was of no use. He joined a caravan and set out. He came back at the end of a year in the same state as his elder brother. I took care of him, and as I had a thousand sequins to spare I gave them to him, and he re-opened his shop.

One day, my two brothers came to me to propose that we should make a journey and trade. At first I refused to go. “You travelled,” I said, “and what did you gain?” But they came to me repeatedly, and after having held out for five years I at last gave way. But when they had made their preparation, and they began to buy the merchandise we needed, they found they had spent every piece of the thousand sequins I had given them. I did not reproach them. I divided my six thousand sequins with them, giving a thousand to each and keeping one for myself, and the other three I buried in a corner of my house. We bought merchandise, loaded a vessel with it, and set forth with a favorable wind.

After two months’ sailing we arrived at a seaport, where we disembarked and did a great trade. Then we bought the merchandise of the country, and were just going to sail once more, when I was stopped on the shore by a beautiful though poorly dressed woman. She came up to me, kissed my hand, and implored me to marry her, and take her on board. At first I refused, but she begged so hard and promised to be such a good wife to me, that at last I consented. I got her some beautiful dresses, and after having married her, we embarked and set sail. During the voyage, I discovered so many good qualities in my wife that I began to lover her more and more. But my brothers began to be jealous of my prosperity, and set to work to plot against my life. One night when we were sleeping they threw my wife and myself into the sea. My wife, however, was a fairy, and so she did not let me drown, but transported me to an island. When the day dawned, she said to me,

“When I saw you on the sea-shore I took a great fancy to you, and wished to try your good nature, so I presented myself in the disguise you saw. Now I have rewarded you by saving your life. But I am very angry with your brothers, and I shall not rest till I have taken their lives.”

I thanked the fairy for all that she had done for me, but I begged her not to kill my brothers.

I appeased her wrath, and in a moment she transported me from the island where we were to the roof of my house, and she disappeared a moment afterwards. I went down, and opened the doors, and dug up the three thousand sequins which I had buried. I went to the place where my shop was, opened it, and received from my fellow-merchants congratulations on my return. When I went home, I saw two black dogs who came to meet me with sorrowful faces. I was much astonished, but the fairy who reappeared said to me,

“Do not be surprised to see these dogs; they are your two brothers. I have condemned them to remain for ten years in these shapes.” Then having told me where I could hear news of her, she vanished.

The ten years are nearly passed, and I am on the road to find her. As in passing I met this merchant and the old man with the hind, I stayed with them.

This is my history, O prince of genii! Do you not think it is a most marvellous one?

“Yes, indeed,” replied the Genie, “and I will give up to you the third of the merchant’s punishment.”

Then the third old man made the Genie the same request as the other two had done, and the Genie promised him the last third of the merchant’s punishment if his story surpassed both the others.

So he told his story to the Genie, but I cannot tell you what it was, as I do not know.

But I do know that it was even more marvellous than either of the others, so that the Genie was astonished, and said to the third old man, “I will give up to you the third part of the merchant’s punishment. He ought to thank all three of you for having interested yourselves in his favour. But for you, he would be here no longer.”

So saying, he disappeared, to the great joy of the company. The merchant did not fail to thank his friends, and then each went on his way. The merchant returned to his wife and children, and passed the rest of his days happily with them.

“But, sire,” added Scheherazade, “however beautiful are the stories I have just told you, they cannot compare with the story of the Fisherman.”

The Story of the First Old Man and of the Hind

The Story of the First Old Man and of the Hind

I am now going to begin my story (said the old man), so please attend.

This hind that you see with me is my wife. We have no children of our own, therefore I adopted the son of a favorite slave, and determined to make him my heir.

My wife, however, took a great dislike to both mother and child, which she concealed from me till too late. When my adopted son was about ten years old I was obliged to go on a journey. Before I went I entrusted to my wife’s keeping both the mother and child, and begged her to take care of them during my absence, which lasted a whole year. During this time she studied magic in order to carry out her wicked scheme. When she had learnt enough she took my son into a distant place and changed him into a calf. Then she gave him to my steward, and told him to look after a calf she had bought. She also changed the slave into a cow, which she sent to my steward.

When I returned I inquired after my slave and the child. “Your slave is dead,” she said, “and as for your son, I have not seen him for two months, and I do not know where he is.”

I was grieved to hear of my slave’s death, but as my son had only disappeared, I thought I should soon find him. Eight months, however, passed, and still no tidings of him; then the feast of Bairam came.

To celebrate it I ordered my steward to bring me a very fat cow to sacrifice. He did so. The cow that he brought was my unfortunate slave. I bound her, but just as I was about to kill her she began to low most piteously, and I saw that her eyes were streaming with tears. It seemed to me most extraordinary, and, feeling a movement of pity, I ordered the steward to lead her away and bring another. My wife, who was present, scoffed at my compassion, which made her malice of no avail. “What are you doing?” she cried. “Kill this cow. It is the best we have to sacrifice.”

To please her, I tried again, but again the animal’s lows and tears disarmed me.

“Take her away,” I said to the steward, “and kill her; I cannot.”

The steward killed her, but on skinning her found that she was nothing but bones, although she appeared so fat. I was vexed.

“Keep her for yourself,” I said to the steward, “and if you have a fat calf, bring that in her stead.”

In a short time he brought a very fat calf, which, although I did not know it, was my son. It tried hard to break its cord and come to me. It threw itself at my feet, with its head on the ground, as if it wished to excite my pity, and to beg me not to take away its life.

I was even more surprised and touched at this action than I had been at the tears of the cow.

“Go,” I said to the steward, “take back this calf, take great care of it, and bring me another in its place instantly.”

As soon as my wife heard me speak this she at once cried out, “What are you doing, husband? Do not sacrifice any calf but this.”

“Wife,” I answered, “I will not sacrifice this calf,” and in spite of all her remonstrances, I remained firm.

I had another calf killed; this one was led away. The next day the steward asked to speak to me in private.

“I have come,” he said, “to tell you some news which I think you will like to hear. I have a daughter who knows magic. Yesterday, when I was leading back the calf which you refused to sacrifice, I noticed that she smiled, and then directly afterwards began to cry. I asked her why she did so.”

“Father,” she answered, “this calf is the son of our master. I smile with joy at seeing him still alive, and I weep to think of his mother, who was sacrificed yesterday as a cow. These changes have been wrought by our master’s wife, who hated the mother and son.”

“At these words, of Genie,” continued the old man, “I leave you to imagine my astonishment. I went immediately with the steward to speak with his daughter myself. First of all I went to the stable to see my son, and he replied in his dumb way to all my caresses. When the steward’s daughter came I asked her if she could change my son back to his proper shape.”

“Yes, I can,” she replied, “on two conditions. One is that you will give him to me for a husband, and the other is that you will let me punish the woman who changed him into a calf.”

“To the first condition,” I answered, “I agree with all my heart, and I will give you an ample dowry. To the second I also agree, I only beg you to spare her life.”

“That I will do,” she replied; “I will treat her as she treated your son.”

Then she took a vessel of water and pronounced over it some words I did not understand; then, on throwing the water over him, he became immediately a young man once more.

“My son, my dear son,” I exclaimed, kissing him in a transport of joy. “This kind maiden has rescued you from a terrible enchantment, and I am sure that out of gratitude you will marry her.”

He consented joyfully, but before they were married, the young girl changed my wife into a hind, and it is she whom you see before you. I wished her to have this form rather than a stranger one, so that we could see her in the family without repugnance.

Since then my son has become a widower and has gone travelling. I am now going in search of him, and not wishing to confide my wife to the care of other people, I am taking her with me. Is this not a most marvellous tale?

“It is indeed,” said the Genie, “and because of it I grant to you the third part of the punishment of this merchant.”

When the first old man had finished his story, the second, who was leading the two black dogs, said to the Genie, “I am going to tell you what happened to me, and I am sure that you will find my story even more astonishing than the one to which you have just been listening. But when I have related it, will you grant me also the third part of the merchant’s punishment?”

“Yes,” replied the Genie, “provided that your story surpasses that of the hind.”

With this agreement the second old man began in this way.

The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor

The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor

In the times of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid there lived in Baghdad a poor porter named Hindbad, who on a very hot day was sent to carry a heavy load from one end of the city to the other. Before he had accomplished half the distance he was so tired that, finding himself in a quiet street where the pavement was sprinkled with rose water, and a cool breeze was blowing, he set his burden upon the ground, and sat down to rest in the shade of a grand house. Very soon he decided that he could not have chosen a pleasanter place; a delicious perfume of aloes wood and pastilles came from the open windows and mingled with the scent of the rose water which steamed up from the hot pavement. Within the palace he heard some music, as of many instruments cunningly played, and the melodious warble of nightingales and other birds, and by this, and the appetising smell of many dainty dishes of which he presently became aware, he judged that feasting and merry making were going on. He wondered who lived in this magnificent house which he had never seen before, the street in which it stood being one which he seldom had occasion to pass. To satisfy his curiosity he went up to some splendidly dressed servants who stood at the door, and asked one of them the name of the master of the mansion.

“What,” replied he, “do you live in Baghdad, and not know that here lives the noble Sindbad the Sailor, that famous traveller who sailed over every sea upon which the sun shines?”

The porter, who had often heard people speak of the immense wealth of Sindbad, could not help feeling envious of one whose lot seemed to be as happy as his own was miserable. Casting his eyes up to the sky he exclaimed aloud, “Consider, Mighty Creator of all things, the differences between Sindbad’s life and mine. Every day I suffer a thousand hardships and misfortunes, and have hard work to get even enough bad barley bread to keep myself and my family alive, while the lucky Sindbad spends money right and left and lives upon the fat of the land! What has he done that you should give him this pleasant life– what have I done to deserve so hard a fate?”

So saying he stamped upon the ground like one beside himself with misery and despair. Just at this moment a servant came out of the palace, and taking him by the arm said, “Come with me, the noble Sindbad, my master, wishes to speak to you.”

Hindbad was not a little surprised at this summons, and feared that his unguarded words might have drawn upon him the displeasure of Sindbad, so he tried to excuse himself upon the pretext that he could not leave the burden which had been entrusted to him in the street. However the lackey promised him that it should be taken care of, and urged him to obey the call so pressingly that at last the porter was obliged to yield.

He followed the servant into a vast room, where a great company was seated round a table covered with all sorts of delicacies. In the place of honour sat a tall, grave man whose long white beard gave him a venerable air. Behind his chair stood a crowd of attendants eager to minister to his wants. This was the famous Sindbad himself. The porter, more than ever alarmed at the sight of so much magnificence, tremblingly saluted the noble company. Sindbad, making a sign to him to approach, caused him to be seated at his right hand, and himself heaped choice morsels upon his plate, and poured out for him a draught of excellent wine, and presently, when the banquet drew to a close, spoke to him familiarly, asking his name and occupation.

“My lord,” replied the porter, “I am called Hindbad.”

“I am glad to see you here,” continued Sindbad. “And I will answer for the rest of the company that they are equally pleased, but I wish you to tell me what it was that you said just now in the street.” For Sindbad, passing by the open window before the feast began, had heard his complaint and therefore had sent for him.

At this question Hindbad was covered with confusion, and hanging down his head, replied, “My lord, I confess that, overcome by weariness and ill-humour, I uttered indiscreet words, which I pray you to pardon me.”

“Oh!” replied Sindbad, “do not imagine that I am so unjust as to blame you. On the contrary, I understand your situation and can pity you. Only you appear to be mistaken about me, and I wish to set you right. You doubtless imagine that I have acquired all the wealth and luxury that you see me enjoy without difficulty or danger, but this is far indeed from being the case. I have only reached this happy state after having for years suffered every possible kind of toil and danger.

“Yes, my noble friends,” he continued, addressing the company, “l assure you that my adventures have been strange enough to deter even the most avaricious men from seeking wealth by traversing the seas. Since you have, perhaps, heard but confused accounts of my seven voyages, and the dangers and wonders that I have met with by sea and land, I will now give you a full and true account of them, which I think you will be well pleased to hear.”

As Sindbad was relating his adventures chiefly on account of the porter, he ordered, before beginning his tale, that the burden which had been left in the street should be carried by some of his own servants to the place for which Hindbad had set out at first, while he remained to listen to the story.

Fisherman Story

Shaharzaad said - "There was a fisherman. He was so poor that he had great difficulty in bringing up his family - his wife and three children. He used to go to sea to catch fish but it was his rule that he did not cast his net more than four times. Once he went to catch fish that the first time he cast his net, he got a skeleton of an ass, he was very disappointed. He had to mend his net as the skeleton has broken his net at several places. When he cast his net second time he got a basket full of trash, he got very angry at this. Next time he threw his net, he collected only shells, mud and stones. He was really annoyed at this. When last time he threw the net he got a yellow vessel. Since it was heavy, he thought there might be something which he could sell and get some money to buy food for his family. But as he opened it, there came out a dense smoke which scattered all around.

In a little while the smoke gathered itself and formed a shape of a Genie and cried - "I will never disobey you." The fisherman was frightened, but with courage he asked him - "How did you get shut in this vessel?" The Genie said - "Talk to me properly, otherwise I will kill you." "Why will you kill me? I have taken you out, and you will kill me for it?" "OK, Then listen to my story. I disobeyed the King of the Genie, so to punish me he shut me in this vessel of copper and threw this vessel in the sea. During the first 100 years I promised to myself that if somebody will take me out, I will make him rich. But nobody took me out. During the next 100 years, I promised to myself if somebody will take me out I will give all the treasures to him, but nobody took me out. During the third century I promised to make him a King, to be near him and fulfill his three wishes everyday, still nobody took me out. During the fourth century I promised to kill him who would take me out. You took me out that is why I will kill you. Now just tell me how would you prefer to die?"

The fisherman said - "Since I must die, I want to ask you one question. Were you really in this vessel?" "Yes." "I cannot believe it because even your one foot cannot go in this vessel, how can your whole body go in this vessel? I cannot believe this unless I see it myself." The Genie changed himself into smoke and entered the vessel. Then he called from inside - "See now, I am speaking from the vessel, I am inside the vessel." As soon as the fisherman heard this he closed the lid of the vessel and said to the Genie - "Now you tell me, what kind of death you would prefer? I think it will be better if I throw you in the sea again."

The Genie said - "Please do not throw me in the sea, whatever you will say, I will do." Fisherman said - "No, I will trust you, I am afraid, you will treat me as the Greek King treated the physician Doubaan. Listen I tell you how he treated him."

Aladdin and the Magic Lamp

 Aladdin and the Magic Lamp

Once, there lived a poor tailor, who had a son called Aladdin, a careless boy who would play all day long. One day, when Aladdin was playing, an old man came up to him, and said “Are you Aladdin? I can see you look very much like your father. You don’t know me, but I am your uncle, and had been away in a distant country for some time.” Thus he befriended Aladdin. Now, this strange man was no uncle of Aladdin, but he was a wicked magician, who wanted to make use of the boy's services.

Next day the magician led Aladdin to a beautiful garden outside the city. They went a good way into the country, until they came to two mountains divided by a narrow valley. There he lighted a fire, and threw into it some powder, all the time repeating strange words. The ground then opened right before them, and a stone trap-door appeared. Aladdin got very scared by seeing this. But the magician calmly lifted the trap door and told Aladdin "Fear nothing, but obey me. Beneath this stone lies a treasure which is to be yours, so you must do exactly as I tell you. Go down, and at the foot of those steps you will find an open door leading into three large halls. Go through them without touching anything. These halls lead into a garden of fine fruit trees. Walk on till you come to niche in a terrace where stands a lighted lamp. Blow the lamp out, pour out the oil it contains, and bring the lamp to me."

Aladdin went through the door, and found all that the Magician had told him to be true, and he found the lamp. As he came back through the garden, his eyes were dazzled with the bright-coloured fruits on the trees, shining like glass. He plucked and put some of these in his pockets, and then returned with the Lamp, and called to his uncle to help him up the steps. "Give me the Lamp," said the magician, angrily. "Not until I get out safe," cried the boy. The Magician, getting angry, slammed down the trap-door, and Aladdin was shut inside.

Aladdin was sitting and crying, when he happened to rub the lamp by chance. There was a strange sound and some smoke came out of the lamp. Then the smoke assumed the shape of a strange figure, and the figure said “Hello master, I am the genie of the lamp. I am at your command, please tell me what I can do for you.” Aladdin cried, “I just want to go back to my mother”. In an instant Aladdin found himself at home. He told his mother all that had happened. She felt curious, and rubbed the lamp. The Genie of the Lamp arose again, and asked for their commands. Aladdin and his mother asked for some food, and the choicest fare instantly appeared on a pretty dish of silver. Aladdin and his mother feasted on the rich fare brought to them. They lived happily for quite some time after that, since the genie always fulfilled their wishes.

One day, while Aladdin was out on his walk, he chanced to see the King's daughter, princess Bulbul. Bulbul was so beautiful, and Aladdin fell in love with her. So Aladdin’s mother took a bowl full of the shining fruits he had gathered before, and gifted it to the King, and asked for his daughter to be wed to Aladdin. The King was amazed at the richness of the fruits, and said to Aladdin's mother: "Your son shall have his wish, if he can send me forty bowls like this in a week." The Lamp Genie brought the bowls of fruits, and Aladdin's mother went with them to the King. The King was overjoyed at receiving these rich gifts, and had a grand feast to marry Princess Bulbul and Aladdin. Aladdin then ordered the Lamp Genie to build a superb Palace, and the young couple lived there quite happily for some time.

Meanwhile, the wicked Magician heard about Aladdin’s wonderful palace, and knew that it was because of the Lamp Genie. He wished to get hold of the Magic Lamp for himself, so one day when Aladdin was out of town, he went near the palace with a basketful of lamps and cried out in the streets, "New lamps for old ones! New lamps for old ones!" On hearing him, the young princess, who did not know the value of Aladdin's old Lamp, changed it for a new one, and so the Magician got the magic lamp.

Immediately, the Magician asked the Genie to transport the Palace and princess Bulbul to Africa. Aladdin's was so grief stricken, and went to Africa to find the princess. The Princess was rejoiced to see him again. He then gave her a powerful sleeping-tonic, and advised her to pour it into the Magician’s wine at dinner that day. The magician fell sound asleep after drinking the tonic. Then Aladdin came and took the Lamp, and called upon the Genie to transport the Palace, the Princess, and himself, back. Aladdin and Bulbul lived in the palace and enjoyed good fortune for a long time, and did not see the wicked magician again.

Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

In a town in Persia there dwelt two brothers, one named Cassim, the other Ali Baba. Cassim was married to a rich wife and lived in plenty, while Ali Baba had to maintain his wife and children by cutting wood in a neighbouring forest and selling it in the town.

One day, when Ali Baba was in the forest, he saw a troop of men on horseback, coming toward him in a cloud of dust. He was afraid they were robbers, and climbed into a tree for safety. When they came up to him and dismounted, he counted forty of them. They unbridled their horses and tied them to trees.

The finest man among them, whom Ali Baba took to be their captain, went a little way among some bushes, and said, "Open, Sesame!" so plainly that Ali Baba heard him.

A door opened in the rocks, and having made the troop go in, he followed them, and the door shut again of itself. They stayed some time inside, and Ali Baba, fearing they might come out and catch him, was forced to sit patiently in the tree. At last the door opened again, and the Forty Thieves came out. As the Captain went in last he came out first, and made them all pass by him; he then closed the door, saying, "Shut, Sesame!"

Every man bridled his horse and mounted, the Captain put himself at their head, and they returned as they came.

Then Ali Baba climbed down and went to the door concealed among the bushes, and said, "Open, Sesame!" and it flew open.

Ali Baba, who expected a dull, dismal place, was greatly surprised to find it large and well lighted, hollowed by the hand of man in the form of a vault, which received the light from an opening in the ceiling. He saw rich bales of merchandise -- silk, stuff-brocades, all piled together, and gold and silver in heaps, and money in leather purses. He went in and the door shut behind him. He did not look at the silver, but brought out as many bags of gold as he thought his asses, which were browsing outside, could carry, loaded them with the bags, and hid it all with fagots.

Using the words, "Shut, Sesame!" he closed the door and went home.

Then he drove his asses into the yard, shut the gates, carried the money-bags to his wife, and emptied them out before her. He bade her keep the secret, and he would go and bury the gold.

"Let me first measure it," said his wife. "I will go borrow a measure of someone, while you dig the hole."

So she ran to the wife of Cassim and borrowed a measure. Knowing Ali Baba's poverty, the sister was curious to find out what sort of grain his wife wished to measure, and artfully put some suet at the bottom of the measure. Ali Baba's wife went home and set the measure on the heap of gold, and filled it and emptied it often, to her great content. She then carried it back to her sister, without noticing that a piece of gold was sticking to it, which Cassim's wife perceived directly her back was turned.

She grew very curious, and said to Cassim when he came home, "Cassim, your brother is richer than you. He does not count his money, he measures it."

He begged her to explain this riddle, which she did by showing him the piece of money and telling him where she found it. Then Cassim grew so envious that he could not sleep, and went to his brother in the morning before sunrise. "Ali Baba," he said, showing him the gold piece, "you pretend to be poor and yet you measure gold."

By this Ali Baba perceived that through his wife's folly Cassim and his wife knew their secret, so he confessed all and offered Cassim a share.

"That I expect," said Cassim; "but I must know where to find the treasure, otherwise I will discover all, and you will lose all."

Ali Baba, more out of kindness than fear, told him of the cave, and the very words to use. Cassim left Ali Baba, meaning to be beforehand with him and get the treasure for himself. He rose early next morning, and set out with ten mules loaded with great chests. He soon found the place, and the door in the rock.

He said, "Open, Sesame!" and the door opened and shut behind him. He could have feasted his eyes all day on the treasures, but he now hastened to gather together as much of it as possible; but when he was ready to go he could not remember what to say for thinking of his great riches. Instead of "Sesame," he said, "Open, Barley!" and the door remained fast. He named several different sorts of grain, all but the right one, and the door still stuck fast. He was so frightened at the danger he was in that he had as much forgotten the word as if he had never heard it.

About noon the robbers returned to their cave, and saw Cassim's mules roving about with great chests on their backs. This gave them the alarm; they drew their sabers, and went to the door, which opened on their Captain's saying, "Open, Sesame!"

Cassim, who had heard the trampling of their horses' feet, resolved to sell his life dearly, so when the door opened he leaped out and threw the Captain down. In vain, however, for the robbers with their sabers soon killed him. On entering the cave they saw all the bags laid ready, and could not imagine how anyone had got in without knowing their secret. They cut Cassim's body into four quarters, and nailed them up inside the cave, in order to frighten anyone who should venture in, and went away in search of more treasure.

As night drew on Cassim's wife grew very uneasy, and ran to her brother-in-law, and told him where her husband had gone. Ali Baba did his best to comfort her, and set out to the forest in search of Cassim. The first thing he saw on entering the cave was his dead brother. Full of horror, he put the body on one of his asses, and bags of gold on the other two, and, covering all with some fagots, returned home. He drove the two asses laden with gold into his own yard, and led the other to Cassim's house.

The door was opened by the slave Morgiana, whom he knew to be both brave and cunning. Unloading the ass, he said to her, "This is the body of your master, who has been murdered, but whom we must bury as though he had died in his bed. I will speak with you again, but now tell your mistress I am come."

The wife of Cassim, on learning the fate of her husband, broke out into cries and tears, but Ali Baba offered to take her to live with him and his wife if she would promise to keep his counsel and leave everything to Morgiana; whereupon she agreed, and dried her eyes.

Morgiana, meanwhile, sought an apothecary and asked him for some lozenges. "My poor master," she said, "can neither eat nor speak, and no one knows what his distemper is." She carried home the lozenges and returned next day weeping, and asked for an essence only given to those just about to die.

Thus, in the evening, no one was surprised to hear the wretched shrieks and cries of Cassim's wife and Morgiana, telling everyone that Cassim was dead.

The day after Morgiana went to an old cobbler near the gates of the town who opened his stall early, put a piece of gold in his hand, and bade him follow her with his needle and thread. Having bound his eyes with a handkerchief, she took him to the room where the body lay, pulled off the bandage, and bade him sew the quarters together, after which she covered his eyes again and led him home. Then they buried Cassim, and Morgiana his slave followed him to the grave, weeping and tearing her hair, while Cassim's wife stayed at home uttering lamentable cries. Next day she went to live with Ali Baba, who gave Cassim's shop to his eldest son.

The Forty Thieves, on their return to the cave, were much astonished to find Cassim's body gone and some of their money-bags.

"We are certainly discovered," said the Captain, "and shall be undone if we cannot find out who it is that knows our secret. Two men must have known it; we have killed one, we must now find the other. To this end one of you who is bold and artful must go into the city dressed as a traveler, and discover whom we have killed, and whether men talk of the strange manner of his death. If the messenger fails he must lose his life, lest we be betrayed."

One of the thieves started up and offered to do this, and after the rest had highly commended him for his bravery he disguised himself, and happened to enter the town at daybreak, just by Baba Mustapha's stall. The thief bade him good-day, saying, "Honest man, how can you possibly see to stitch at your age?"

"Old as I am," replied the cobbler, "I have very good eyes, and will you believe me when I tell you that I sewed a dead body together in a place where I had less light than I have now."

The robber was overjoyed at his good fortune, and, giving him a piece of gold, desired to be shown the house where he stitched up the dead body. At first Mustapha refused, saying that he had been blindfolded; but when the robber gave him another piece of gold he began to think he might remember the turnings if blindfolded as before. This means succeeded; the robber partly led him, and was partly guided by him, right in front of Cassim's house, the door of which the robber marked with a piece of chalk. Then, well pleased, he bade farewell to Baba Mustapha and returned to the forest. By and by Morgiana, going out, saw the mark the robber had made, quickly guessed that some mischief was brewing, and fetching a piece of chalk marked two or three doors on each side, without saying anything to her master or mistress.

The thief, meantime, told his comrades of his discovery. The Captain thanked him, and bade him show him the house he had marked. But when they came to it they saw that five or six of the houses were chalked in the same manner. The guide was so confounded that he knew not what answer to make, and when they returned he was at once beheaded for having failed.

Another robber was dispatched, and, having won over Baba Mustapha, marked the house in red chalk; but Morgiana being again too clever for them, the second messenger was put to death also.

The Captain now resolved to go himself, but, wiser than the others, he did not mark the house, but looked at it so closely that he could not fail to remember it. He returned, and ordered his men to go into the neighboring villages and buy nineteen mules, and thirty-eight leather jars, all empty except one, which was full of oil. The Captain put one of his men, fully armed, into each, rubbing the outside of the jars with oil from the full vessel. Then the nineteen mules were loaded with thirty-seven robbers in jars, and the jar of oil, and reached the town by dusk.

The Captain stopped his mules in front of Ali Baba's house, and said to Ali Baba, who was sitting outside for coolness, "I have brought some oil from a distance to sell at tomorrow's market, but it is now so late that I know not where to pass the night, unless you will do me the favor to take me in."

Though Ali Baba had seen the Captain of the robbers in the forest, he did not recognize him in the disguise of an oil merchant. He bade him welcome, opened his gates for the mules to enter, and went to Morgiana to bid her prepare a bed and supper for his guest. He brought the stranger into his hall, and after they had supped went again to speak to Morgiana in the kitchen, while the Captain went into the yard under pretense of seeing after his mules, but really to tell his men what to do.

Beginning at the first jar and ending at the last, he said to each man, "As soon as I throw some stones from the window of the chamber where I lie, cut the jars open with your knives and come out, and I will be with you in a trice."

He returned to the house, and Morgiana led him to his chamber. She then told Abdallah, her fellow slave, to set on the pot to make some broth for her master, who had gone to bed. Meanwhile her lamp went out, and she had no more oil in the house.

"Do not be uneasy," said Abdallah; "go into the yard and take some out of one of those jars."

Morgiana thanked him for his advice, took the oil pot, and went into the yard. When she came to the first jar the robber inside said softly, "Is it time?"

Any other slave but Morgiana, on finding a man in the jar instead of the oil she wanted, would have screamed and made a noise; but she, knowing the danger her master was in, bethought herself of a plan, and answered quietly, "Not yet, but presently."

She went to all the jars, giving the same answer, till she came to the jar of oil. She now saw that her master, thinking to entertain an oil merchant, had let thirty-eight robbers into his house. She filled her oil pot, went back to the kitchen, and, having lit her lamp, went again to the oil jar and filled a large kettle full of oil. When it boiled she went and poured enough oil into every jar to stifle and kill the robber inside. When this brave deed was done she went back to the kitchen, put out the fire and the lamp, and waited to see what would happen.

In a quarter of an hour the Captain of the robbers awoke, got up, and opened the window. As all seemed quiet, he threw down some little pebbles which hit the jars. He listened, and as none of his men seemed to stir he grew uneasy, and went down into the yard. On going to the first jar and saying, "Are you asleep?" he smelt the hot boiled oil, and knew at once that his plot to murder Ali Baba and his household had been discovered. He found all the gang was dead, and, missing the oil out of the last jar, became aware of the manner of their death. He then forced the lock of a door leading into a garden, and climbing over several walls made his escape. Morgiana heard and saw all this, and, rejoicing at her success, went to bed and fell asleep.

At daybreak Ali Baba arose, and, seeing the oil jars still there, asked why the merchant had not gone with his mules. Morgiana bade him look in the first jar and see if there was any oil. Seeing a man, he started back in terror. "Have no fear," said Morgiana; "the man cannot harm you; he is dead."

Ali Baba, when he had recovered somewhat from his astonishment, asked what had become of the merchant.

"Merchant!" said she, "he is no more a merchant than I am!" and she told him the whole story, assuring him that it was a plot of the robbers of the forest, of whom only three were left, and that the white and red chalk marks had something to do with it. Ali Baba at once gave Morgiana her freedom, saying that he owed her his life. They then buried the bodies in Ali Baba's garden, while the mules were sold in the market by his slaves.

The Captain returned to his lonely cave, which seemed frightful to him without his lost companions, and firmly resolved to avenge them by killing Ali Baba. He dressed himself carefully, and went into the town, where he took lodgings in an inn. In the course of a great many journeys to the forest he carried away many rich stuffs and much fine linen, and set up a shop opposite that of Ali Baba's son. He called himself Cogia Hassan, and as he was both civil and well dressed he soon made friends with Ali Baba's son, and through him with Ali Baba, whom he was continually asking to sup with him.

Ali Baba, wishing to return his kindness, invited him into his house and received him smiling, thanking him for his kindness to his son.

When the merchant was about to take his leave Ali Baba stopped him, saying, "Where are you going, sir, in such haste? Will you not stay and sup with me?"

The merchant refused, saying that he had a reason; and, on Ali Baba's asking him what that was, he replied, "It is, sir, that I can eat no victuals that have any salt in them."

"If that is all," said Ali Baba, "let me tell you that there shall be no salt in either the meat or the bread that we eat to-night."

He went to give this order to Morgiana, who was much surprised.

"Who is this man," she said, "who eats no salt with his meat?"

"He is an honest man, Morgiana," returned her master; "therefore do as I bid you."

But she could not withstand a desire to see this strange man, so she helped Abdallah to carry up the dishes, and saw in a moment that Cogia Hassan was the robber Captain, and carried a dagger under his garment.

"I am not surprised," she said to herself, "that this wicked man, who intends to kill my master, will eat no salt with him; but I will hinder his plans."

She sent up the supper by Abdallah, while she made ready for one of the boldest acts that could be thought on. When the dessert had been served, Cogia Hassan was left alone with Ali Baba and his son, whom he thought to make drunk and then to murder them. Morgiana, meanwhile, put on a headdress like a dancing-girl's, and clasped a girdle round her waist, from which hung a dagger with a silver hilt, and said to Abdallah, "Take your tabor, and let us go and divert our master and his guest."

Abdallah took his tabor and played before Morgiana until they came to the door, where Abdallah stopped playing and Morgiana made a low courtesy.

"Come in, Morgiana," said Ali Baba, "and let Cogia Hassan see what you can do"; and, turning to Cogia Hassan, he said, "She's my slave and my housekeeper."

Cogia Hassan was by no means pleased, for he feared that his chance of killing Ali Baba was gone for the present; but he pretended great eagerness to see Morgiana, and Abdallah began to play and Morgiana to dance. After she had performed several dances she drew her dagger and made passes with it, sometimes pointing it at her own breast, sometimes at her master's, as if it were part of the dance. Suddenly, out of breath, she snatched the tabor from Abdallah with her left hand, and, holding the dagger in her right hand, held out the tabor to her master. Ali Baba and his son put a piece of gold into it, and Cogia Hassan, seeing that she was coming to him, pulled out his purse to make her a present, but while he was putting his hand into it Morgiana plunged the dagger into his heart.

"Unhappy girl!" cried Ali Baba and his son, "what have you done to ruin us?"

"It was to preserve you, master, not to ruin you," answered Morgiana. "See here," opening the false merchant's garment and showing the dagger; "see what an enemy you have entertained! Remember, he would eat no salt with you, and what more would you have? Look at him! he is both the false oil merchant and the Captain of the Forty Thieves."

Ali Baba was so grateful to Morgiana for thus saving his life that he offered her to his son in marriage, who readily consented, and a few days after the wedding was celebrated with greatest splendor.

At the end of a year Ali Baba, hearing nothing of the two remaining robbers, judged they were dead, and set out to the cave. The door opened on his saying, "Open Sesame!" He went in, and saw that nobody had been there since the Captain left it. He brought away as much gold as he could carry, and returned to town. He told his son the secret of the cave, which his son handed down in his turn, so the children and grandchildren of Ali Baba were rich to the end of their lives.

The Mother's Heart

The Mother's Heart

If children could realize how indifference and disrespect to parents wound the heart, they would never offend in that way. "Honor thy father and thy mother," is one of the first commands, and was intended to be obeyed as much as any other. When one of God's commands is disobeyed, a penalty is sure to follow, whether the transgressor realizes the cause or not. It may be that every disappointment, loss, sickness or affliction is a penalty merci- fully appointed to pay the debt here instead of here-after. If so, what a load we would carry with us into the next life to our great shame and hindrance if we do not expiate, in part, our faults while here.

If a person should make you a costly present, you would entertain the most pleasant feelings toward that one; your countenance would brighten and your step hasten to do some kindness in return, and this you would perhaps consider almost nothing in comparison. Yet, to those who gave you the first smile and welcome, shelter, food and clothing, loving care and teaching, do you respond as willingly ? If so, how sweet must be the thought ; if not, there will be much to regret some day.

If you were making some beautiful article for yourself, your time and materials being limited, and you should mar your workmanship beyond repairing, how sorrowful you would be ; but the spirit and the record you are moulding are what money cannot create or replace; neither can time efface from the faithful records of the heart, the vivid picture of a misused opportunity, an injured work of the soul. There is some consolation in the knowledge that repentance cancels part of the offense, if not its result; but the heart that never repents or seeks to amend its wrongs, the heart that fosters ingratitude, is cultivating an element that will at last destroy every bright attribute and hope.

Let me tell you a story or two from life to show you the tenderness of a mother's heart, its long, enduring love.

A woman past sixty years of age, a tailor, lived near me. She had sons and grandchildren, and was very kind to them all, constantly helping to provide for the families, and even now and then lending some poor man or woman a sum of money to start business with; always cheerful and hopeful in her ways, and never idle. Early and late her sewing-machine was hurrying, and some persons hinted that she must have riches hoarded up. One day a young woman entered the shop, and the tailoress looking at the baby she carried in her arms, the baby responded with a coo and a spring toward her. "What do you think of my baby ? Just take her a minute," said the young mother. The gray-haired woman drew back, and a strange look came over her face. "I have never held a girl-baby in my arms since my own little girl died I cannot! " said she. "How long ago was that?" tenderly asked the young mother. "Thirty years," answered the poor woman, and the tears came so fast she had to wipe them away, and the rest of us had to wipe our eyes too. Long as we had known her, we had never had a thought that a secret, beautiful and sacred sorrow was hidden in her heart, but I know that ever afterward we who were in her shop that afternoon always spoke with tenderness to the poor old woman, as though we were partners in her sorrow.

Butterfly and Cocoon

Butterfly and Cocoon

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared; he sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and it could go no farther.

Then the man decided to help the butterfly, so he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What this man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were nature's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

The Future Buddha as Judge

The Future Buddha as Judge

A woman, carrying her child, went to the future Buddha's tank to wash. And having first bathed the child, she put on her upper garment and descended into the water to bathe herself.

Then a Yaksha, seeing the child, had a craving to eat it. And taking the form of a woman, she drew near, and asked the mother, "Friend, this is a very pretty child. Is it one of yours?" And when she was told it was, she asked if she might nurse it. And this being allowed, she nursed it a little, and then carried it off.

But when the mother saw this, she ran after her, and cried out, "Where are you taking my child to?" and caught hold of her.

The Yaksha boldly said, "Where did you get the child from? It is mine!" And so quarreling, they passed the door of the future Buddha's Judgment Hall.

He heard the noise, sent for them, inquired into the matter, and asked them whether they would abide by his decision. And they agreed. Then he had a line drawn on the ground; and told the Yaksha to take hold of the child's arms, and the mother to take hold of its legs; and said, "The child shall be hers who drags him over the line."

But as soon as they pulled at him, the mother, seeing how he suffered, grieved as if her heart would break. And letting him go, she stood there weeping.

Then the future Buddha asked the bystanders, "Whose hearts are tender to babes? Those who have borne children, or those who have not?"

And they answered, "Oh sire! The hearts of mothers are tender."

Then he said, "Who, think you, is the mother? She who has the child in her arms, or she who has let go?"

And they answered, "She who has let go is the mother."

And he said, "Then do you all think that the other was the thief?"

And they answered, "Sire! We cannot tell."

And he said, "Verily, this is a Yaksha, who took the child to eat it."

And he replied, "Because her eyes winked not, and were red, and she knew no fear, and had no pity, I knew it."

And so saying, he demanded of the thief, "Who are you?"

And she said, "Lord! I am a Yaksha."

And he asked, "Why did you take away this child?"

And she said, "I thought to eat him, Oh my Lord!"

And he rebuked her, saying, "Oh foolish woman! For your former sins you have been born a Yaksha, and now do you still sin!" And he laid a vow upon her to keep the Five Commandments, and let her go.

But the mother of the child exalted the future Buddha, and said, "Oh my Lord! Oh great physician! May your life be long!" And she went away, with her babe clasped to her bosom.