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Tales Of The Punjab by Flora Annie Steel

Part 5 out of 5

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miserable half-a-boy outwitted them.

Being determined to be revenged on him, they waited until he began to
draw water from a well, where they stopped to drink, and then they
pushed him in.

'That is an end of little Half-a-son!' they said to themselves, and
ran away laughing.

Now in the well there lived a one-eyed demon, a pigeon, and a serpent,
and when it was dark these three returned home and began to talk
amongst themselves, while Prince Half-a-son, who clung to the wall
like a limpet, and took up no room at all, listened and held his

'What is your power, my friend?' asked the demon of the serpent.
Whereupon the serpent replied, 'I have the treasures of seven kings
underneath me! What is yours, my friend?'

Then the demon said conceitedly, 'The King's daughter is possessed of
me. She is always ill; some day I shall kill her.'

'Ah!' said the pigeon, 'I could cure her, for no matter what the
disease is, any one who eats my droppings will become well instantly.'

When dawn came, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon each went off
to his own haunt without noticing Prince Half-a-son.

Soon afterwards, a camel-driver came to draw water from the well, and
let down the bucket; whereupon Prince Half-a-son caught hold of the
rope and held on.

The camel-driver, feeling a heavy weight, looked down to see what it
was, and when he beheld half-a-boy clinging to the rope he was so
frightened that he ran clean away. But all Half-a-son had to do was
to say, 'Pull, rope, pull!' and the rope wound itself up immediately.

No sooner had he reached the surface once more than he set off to the
neighbouring city, and proclaimed that he was a physician come to heal
the King's daughter of her dreadful disease.

'Have a care! have a care!' cried the watchmen at the gate. 'If you
fail, your head will be the forfeit. Many men have tried, and what
can _you_ do that are but half-a-man?'

Nevertheless, Prince Half-a-son, who had some of the pigeon's
droppings in his pocket, was not in the least afraid, but boldly
proclaimed he was ready to accept the terms; that is to say, if he
failed to cure the princess his head was to be cut off, but if he
succeeded, then her hand in marriage and half the kingdom should be
his reward.

'Half the kingdom will just suit me,' he said,' seeing that I am but

And, sure enough, no sooner had the princess taken her first dose,
than she immediately became quite well--her cheeks grew rosy, her eyes
bright; and the King was so delighted that he gave immediate orders
for the marriage. Now amongst the wedding guests were Prince
Half-a-son's wicked brothers, who were ready to die of spite and envy
when they discovered that the happy bridegroom was none other than
their despised half-a-boy. So they went to the King, and said, 'We
know this lad: he is a sweeper's son, and quite unfit to be the
husband of so charming a princess!'

The king at first believed this wicked story, and ordered the poor
prince to be turned out of the kingdom; but Half-a-son asked for a
train of mules, and one day's respite, in order to prove who and what
he was. Then he went to the well, dug up the treasures of seven kings
during the serpent's absence, loaded the mules, and came back
glittering with gold and jewels. He laid the treasures at the King's
feet, and told the whole story,--how, through no fault of his own, he
was only half-a-son, and how unkindly his brothers had behaved to him.

Then the marriage festivities went on, and the wicked brothers crept
away in disgrace.

They went to the well, full of envy and covetousness. 'Half-a-son got
rich by falling in,' they said; 'let us try if we too cannot find some
treasure,' So they threw themselves into the well.

As soon as it was dark, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon came
home together. 'Some thief has been here!' cried the pigeon, 'for my
droppings are gone! Let us feel round, and see if he is here still.'

So they felt round, and when they came upon the six brothers, the
demon ate them up one after another.

So that was an end of them, and Prince Half-a-son had the best of it,
in spite of his only being half-a-boy.


Once upon a time there lived a mother and a daughter who worshipped
the Sun. Though they were very poor they never forgot to honour the
Sun, giving everything they earned to it except two meal cakes, one of
which the mother ate, while the other was the daughter's share, every
day one cake apiece; that was all.

Now it so happened that one day, when the mother was out at work, the
daughter grew hungry, and ate her cake before dinner-time. Just as
she had finished it a priest came by, and begged for some bread, but
there was none in the house save the mother's cake. So the daughter
broke off half of it and gave it to the priest in the name of the Sun.

By and by the mother returned, very hungry, to dinner, and, lo and
behold! there was only half a cake in the house.

'Where is the remainder of the bread?' she asked.

'I ate my share, because I was hungry,' said the daughter, 'and just
as I finished, a priest came a-begging, so I was obliged to give him
half your cake.'

'A pretty story!' quoth the mother, in a rage. 'It is easy to be
pious with other people's property! How am I to know you had eaten
your cake first? I believe you gave mine in order to save your own!'

In vain the daughter protested that she really had finished her cake
before the priest came a-begging,--in vain she promised to give the
mother half her share on the morrow,--in vain she pleaded for
forgiveness for the sake of the Sun, in whose honour she had given
alms. Words were of no avail; the mother sternly bade her go about
her business, saying, 'I will have no gluttons, who grudge their own
meal to the great Sun, in my house!'

So the daughter wandered away homeless into the wilds, sobbing
bitterly. When she had travelled a long long way, she became so tired
that she could walk no longer; therefore she climbed into a big
_pîpal_ tree, in order to be secure from wild beasts, and rested
amongst the branches.

After a time a handsome young prince, who had been chasing deer in the
forest, came to the big _pîpal_ tree, and, allured by its
tempting shade, lay down to sleep away his fatigues. Now, as he lay
there, with his face turned to the sky, he looked so beautiful that
the daughter could not choose but keep her eyes upon him, and so the
tears which flowed from them like a summer shower dropped soft and
warm upon the young man's face, waking him with a start. Thinking it
was raining, he rose to look at the sky, and see whence this sudden
storm had come; but far and near not a cloud was to be seen. Still,
when he returned to his place, the drops fell faster than before, and
one of them upon his lip tasted salt as tears. So he swung himself
into the tree, to see whence the salt rain came, and, lo and behold! a
beauteous maiden sat in the tree, weeping.

'Whence come you, fair stranger?' said he; and she, with tears, told
him she was homeless, houseless, motherless. Then he fell in love
with her sweet face and soft words; so he asked her to be his bride,
and she went with him to the palace, her heart full of gratitude to
the Sun, who had sent her such good luck.

Everything she could desire was hers; only when the other women talked
of their homes and their mothers she held her tongue, for she was
ashamed of hers.

Every one thought she must be some great princess, she was so lovely
and magnificent, but in her heart of hearts she knew she was nothing
of the kind; so every day she prayed to the Sun that her mother might
not find her out.

But one day, when she was sitting alone in her beautiful palace, her
mother appeared, ragged and poor as ever. She had heard of her
daughter's good fortune, and had come to share it.

'And you _shall_ share it,' pleaded her daughter; 'I will give
you back far more than I ever took from you, if only you will go away
and not disgrace me before my prince.'

'Ungrateful creature!' stormed the mother, 'do you forget how it was
through my act that your good fortune came to you? If I had not sent
you into the world, where would you have found so fine a husband?'

'I might have starved!' wept the daughter; 'and now you come to
destroy me again. O great Sun, help me now!'

Just then the prince came to the door, and the poor daughter was ready
to die of shame and vexation; but when she turned to where her mother
had sat, there was nothing to be seen but a golden stool, the like of
which had never been seen on earth before.

'My princess,' asked the prince, astonished, 'whence comes that golden

'From my mother's house,' replied the daughter, full of gratitude to
the great Sun, who had saved her from disgrace.

'Nay! if there are such wondrous things to be seen in your mother's
house,' quoth the prince gaily, 'I must needs go and see it.
To-morrow we will set out on our journey, and you shall show me all it

In vain the daughter put forward one pretext and another: the
prince's curiosity had been aroused by the sight of the marvellous
golden stool, and he was not to be gainsaid.

Then the daughter cried once more to the Sun, in her distress, saying,
'O gracious Sun, help me now!'

But no answer came, and with a heavy heart she set out next day to
show the prince her mother's house. A goodly procession they made,
with horsemen and footmen clothed in royal liveries surrounding the
bride's palanquin, where sat the daughter, her heart sinking at every

And when they came within sight of where her mother's hut used to
stand, lo! on the horizon showed a shining, flaming golden palace,
that glittered and glanced like solid sunshine. Within and without
all was gold,--golden servants and a golden mother!

There they stopped, admiring the countless marvels of the Sun palace,
for three days, and when the third was completed, the prince, more
enamoured of his bride than ever, set his face homewards; but when he
came to the spot where he had first seen the glittering golden palace
from afar, he thought he would just take one look more at the wondrous
sight, and, lo! there was nothing to be seen save a low thatched

Then he turned to his bride, full of wrath, and said, 'You are a
witch, and have deceived me by your detestable arts! Confess, if you
would not have me strike you dead!'

But the daughter fell on her knees, saying, 'My gracious prince, I
have done nothing! I am but a poor homeless girl. It was the Sun
that did it.'

Then she told the whole story from beginning to end, and the prince
was so well satisfied that from that day he too worshipped the Sun.


Once upon a time a poor Brâhman was walking along a dusty road, when
he saw something sparkling on the ground. On picking it up, it turned
out to be a small red stone, so, thinking it somewhat curious, the
Brâhman put it into his pocket and went on his way. By and by he came
to a corn-merchant's shop, at the side of the road, and being hungry
he bethought himself of the red stone, and taking it out, offered it
to the corn-dealer in exchange for a bite and sup, as he had no money
in his pocket.

Now, for a wonder, the shopkeeper was an honest man, so, after looking
at the stone, he bade the Brâhman take it to the king, for, said he,
'all the goods in my shop are not its equal in value!'

Then the Brâhman carried the stone to the king's palace, and asked to
be shown into his presence. But the prime minister refused at first
to admit him; nevertheless, when the Brâhman persisted that he had
something beyond price to show, he was allowed to see the king.

Now the snake-stone was just like a ruby, red and fiery; therefore,
when the king saw it he said, 'What dost thou want for this ruby, O

Then the Brâhman replied, 'Only a pound of meal to make a girdle cake,
for I am hungry!'

'Nay,' said the king, 'it is worth more than that!'

So he sent for a _lâkh_ of rupees from his treasury, and counted
it over to the Brâhman, who went on his way rejoicing.

Then the king called his queen, and gave the jewel into her custody,
with many instructions for its safe keeping, for, said he, there was
not its like in the whole world. The queen, determined to be careful,
wrapped it in cotton-wool, and put it away in an empty chest, locking
the chest with double locks.

So there the ruby snake-stone lay for twelve long years. At the end
of that time the king sent for his queen, and said,' Bring me the
ruby; I wish to satisfy myself that it is safe,'

The queen took her keys, and going to her room, opened the chest, and,
lo! the ruby was gone, and in its place was a handsome stripling! She
shut down the box again in a great hurry, and thought and thought what
she had better do to break the news to the king.

Now as she thought, the king became impatient, and sent a servant to
ask what the delay was. Then the queen bade the servant carry the box
to the audience chamber, and going thither with her keys, she unlocked
the chest before the king.

Out stepped the handsome stripling, to everybody's astonishment.

'Who are you?' quoth the king, 'and where is my jewel?'

'I am Ruby Prince' returned the boy; 'more than that you cannot know.'

Then the king was angry, and drove him from the palace, but, being a
just man, he first gave the boy a horse and arms, so that he might
fight his way in the world.

Now, as Prince Ruby journeyed on his steed, he came to the outskirts
of the town, and saw an old woman making bread, and as she mixed the
flour she laughed, and as she kneaded it she cried.

'Why do you laugh and cry, mother?' quoth Prince Ruby.

'Because my son must die to-day.' returned the woman.' There is an
ogre in this town, which every day eats a young man. It is my son's
turn to provide the dinner, and that is why I weep.'

Then Prince Ruby laughed at her fears, and said he would kill the ogre
and set the town free; only the old woman must let him sleep a while
in her house, and promise to wake him when the time came to go forth
and meet the ogre.

'What good will that do to me?' quoth the old woman; 'you will only be
killed, and then my son will have to go to-morrow. Sleep on,
stranger, if you will, but I will not wake you!'

Then Prince Ruby laughed again. 'It is of no use, mother!' he said,
'fight the ogre I will; and as you will not wake me I must even go to
the place of meeting and sleep there.'

So he rode off on his steed beyond the gates of the city, and, tying
his horse to a tree he lay down to sleep peacefully. By and by the
ogre came for its dinner, but hearing no noise, and seeing no one, it
thought the townspeople had failed in their bargain, and prepared to
revenge itself. But Ruby Prince jumped up, refreshed by slumber, and
falling on the ogre, cut off its head and hands in a trice. These he
stuck on the gate of the town, and returning to the old woman's house,
told her he had killed the ogre, and lay down to sleep again.

Now when the townspeople saw the ogre's head and hands peering over
the city gate, they thought the dreadful creature had come to revenge
itself for some slight. Therefore they ran to the king in a great
fright, and he, thinking the old woman, whose son was to have formed
the ogre's dinner, must have played some trick, went with his officers
to the place where she lived, and found her laughing and singing.

'Why do you laugh?' he asked sternly.

'I laugh because the ogre is killed!' she replied, 'and because the
prince who killed it is sleeping in my house.'

Great was the astonishment at these words, yet, sure enough, when they
came to examine more closely, they saw that the ogre's head and hands
were those of a dead thing.

Then the king said, 'Show me this valiant prince who sleeps so

And when he saw the handsome young stripling, he recognised him as the
lad whom he had driven from the palace. Then he turned to his prime
minister, and said, 'What reward should this youth have?'

And the prime minister answered at once, 'Your daughter in marriage,
and half your kingdom, is not too high a reward for the service he has

So Ruby Prince was married in great state to the king's fair daughter,
and half the kingdom was given him to rule.

But the young bride, much as she loved her gallant husband, was vexed
because she knew not who he was, and because the other women in the
palace twitted her with having married a stranger, a man come from
No-man's-land, whom none called brother.

So, day after day, she would ask her husband to tell her who he was
and whence he came, and every day Ruby Prince would reply, 'Dear
heart, ask me anything but that; for that you must not know!'

Yet still the princess begged, and prayed, and wept, and coaxed, until
one day, when they were standing by the river side, she whispered, 'If
you love me, tell me of what race you are!'

Now Ruby Prince's foot touched the water as he replied, 'Dear heart,
anything but that; for that you must not know!'

Still the princess, imagining she saw signs of yielding in his face,
said again, 'If you love me, tell me of what race you are!'

Then Ruby Prince stood knee-deep in the water, and his face was sad as
he replied, 'Dear heart, anything but that; for that you must not

Once again the wilful bride put her question, and Ruby Prince was
waist-deep in the stream.

'Dear heart, anything but that!'

'Tell me! tell me!' cried the princess, and, lo! as she spoke, a
jewelled snake with a golden crown and ruby star reared itself from
the water, and with a sorrowful look towards her, disappeared beneath
the wave.

Then the princess went home and wept bitterly, cursing her own
curiosity, which had driven away her handsome, gallant young husband.
She offered a reward of a bushel of gold to any one who would bring
her any information about him; yet day after day passed, and still no
news came, so that the princess grew pale with weeping salt tears. At
last a dancing-woman, one of those who attend the women's festivals,
came to the princess, and said, 'Last night I saw a strange thing.
When I was out gathering sticks, I lay down to rest under a tree, and
fell asleep. When I awoke it was light, neither daylight nor
moonlight; and while I wondered, a sweeper came out from a snake-hole
at the foot of the tree, and swept the ground with his broom; then
followed a water-carrier, who sprinkled the ground with water; and
after that two carpet-bearers, who spread costly rugs, and then
disappeared. Even as I wondered what these preparations meant, a
noise of music fell upon my ear, and from the snake-hole came forth a
goodly procession of young men, glittering with jewels, and one in the
midst, who seemed to be the king. Then, while the musicians played,
one by one the young men rose and danced before the king. But one,
who wore a red star on his forehead, danced but ill, and looked pale
and wan. That is all I have to say.'

So the next night the princess went with the dancing-girl to the tree,
where, hiding themselves behind the trunk, they waited to see what
might happen.

Sure enough, after a while it became light that was neither sunlight
nor moonlight; then the sweeper came forth and swept the ground, the
water-carrier sprinkled it, the carpet-bearers placed the rugs, and
last of all, to the sound of music the glittering procession swept
out. How the princess's heart beat when, in the young prince with the
red star, she recognised her dearest husband; and how it ached when
she saw how pale he was, and how little he seemed to care to dance.

Then, when all had performed before the king, the light went out, and
the princess crept home. Every night she would go to the tree and
watch; but all day she would weep, because she seemed no nearer
getting back her lover.

At last, one day, the dancing-girl said to her, 'O princess, I have
hit upon a plan. The Snake-king is passionately fond of dancing, and
yet it is only men who dance before him. Now, if a woman were to do
so, who knows but he might be so pleased that he would grant her
anything she asked? Let me try!'

'Nay,' replied the princess, 'I will learn of you and try myself.'

So the princess learnt to dance, and in an incredibly short time she
far surpassed her teacher. Never before or since was such a graceful,
charming, elegant dancer seen. Everything about her was perfection.
Then she dressed herself in finest muslins and silver brocades, with
diamonds on her veil, till she shone and sparkled like a star.

With beating heart she hid behind the tree and waited. The sweeper,
the water-carrier, the carpet-bearers, came forth in turn, and then
the glittering procession. Ruby Prince looked paler and sadder than
ever, and when his turn came to dance, he hesitated, as if sick at
heart; but from behind the tree stepped a veiled woman, clad in white,
with jewels flashing, and danced before the king. Never was there
such a dance!--everybody held their breath till it was done, and then
the king cried aloud, 'O unknown dancer, ask what you will, and it
shall be yours!'

'Give me the man for whom I danced!' replied the princess.

The Snake-king looked very fierce, and his eyes glittered, as he said,
'You have asked something you had no right to ask, and I should kill
you were it not for my promise. Take him, and begone!'

Quick as thought, the princess seized Ruby Prince by the hand, dragged
him beyond the circle, and fled.

After that they lived very happily, and though the women still taunted
her, the princess held her tongue, and never again asked her husband
of what race he came.

[Illustration: The snake king]



_Sir Buzz_.--In the vernacular Mîyân Bhûngâ, which is Pânjabî for
Sir Beetle or Sir Bee. The word is clearly connected with the common
Aryan roots _frem_, _bhran_, _bhah_, _bhin_, to
buzz as a bee or beetle.

_Tigress_.--Not otherwise described by the narrators than as a
_bhût_, which is usually a malignant ghost, but here she is rather
a benevolent fairy.

_Span_.--The word in the vernacular was _hâth_, the arm
below the elbow, or conventionally half-a-yard, or 18 inches.

_Hundredweight_.--The word here is _man_, an Indian weight
of about 80 Ibs.

_Princess Blossom_.--Bâdshâhzâdi Phûlî, Princess Flower, or
Phûlâzâdî, Born-of-a-flower.

_One-eyed Chief Constable_.--_Kotwál_ is the word used in
the original; he is a very familiar figure in all oriental tales of
Musalmân origin, and must have been one in actual mediæval oriental
life, as he was the chief police (if such a term can be used with
propriety) officer in all cities. The expression 'one-eyed' is
introduced to show his evil nature, according to the well-known saying
and universal belief--­

_Kânâ, kâchrâ, hoch-gardanâ: yeh tînon kamsât!
Jablag has apnâ chale, to koî na pûchhe but. _

Wall-eyed, blear-eyed, wry-necked: these three are evil.
While his own resources last none asketh them for help.

_Vampire_.-The word used was the Arabic _ghûl_ (in English
usually ghowl or ghoul), the vampire, man-devouring demon, which
corresponds to the _bhût_ and _pret_, the malignant ghosts
of the Hindus. It may be noted here that the Persian _ghol_ is
the _loup-garou_ of Europe, the man-devouring demon of the woods.

_King Indar or Indra_--Was originally the beneficent god of
heaven, giver of rain, _etc_., but in the later Hindu mythology
he took only second rank as ruler of the celestial beings who form the
Court of Indra (_Indar kâ akhârâ_ or _Indrâsan Sabhâ_),
synonymous with gaiety of life and licentiousness.


_Pipkin_--_Gharâ_, the common round earthen pot of India,
known to Anglo-Indians as 'chatty' (_châtî_).

_Quarts of milk_--The vernacular word was _ser_, a weight of
2 lbs.; natives always measure liquids by weight, not by capacity.

_Wild plum-tree_--_Ber_, several trees go by this name, but
the species usually meant are (1) the _Zizyphus jujuba_, which is
generally a garden tree bearing large plum-like fruit: this is the
_Pomum adami_ of Marco Polo; (2) the _Zizyphus nummularia_,
often confounded with the camel-thorn, a valuable bush used for
hedges, bearing a small edible fruit. The former is probably meant
here.--See Stewart's _Punjab Plants_, pp. 43-44.

_Millet_--_Pennisetum italicum_, a very small grain.

_Green plums I sell_, _etc_.--The words are--­

_Gaderî gader! gaderî gader!
Râjâ dî betî chûhâ le giâ gher._

Green fruit! green fruit!
The rat has encompassed the Râjâ's daughter.

_Stool_--Pîrhî, a small, low, square stool with a straight
upright back, used by native women.

_Stewpan-lid_--_Sarposh_, usually the iron or copper cover
used to cover _degchîs_ or cooking-pots.


_Bahrâmgor_--This tale is a variant in a way of a popular story
published in the Panjâb in various forms in the vernacular, under the
title of the _Story of Bahrâmgor and the Fairy Hasan Bâno_. The
person meant is no doubt Bahrâmgor, the Sassanian King of Persia,
known to the Greeks as Varanes V., who reigned 420-438 A.D. The
modern stories, highly coloured with local folklore, represent the
well-known tale in India--through the Persian--of _Bahrâmgor and
Dilârâm_. Bahrâmgor was said to have been killed while hunting the
wild ass (_gor_), by jumping into a pool after it, when both
quarry and huntsman disappeared for ever. He is said to be the father
of Persian poetry.

_Demons: Demonsland_.--The words used are _deo_ or _dev_
and _deostân_; here the _deo_ is a malicious spirit by

_Jasdrûl_.--It is difficult to say who this can be, unless the
name be a corruption of Jasrat Râî, through Râwal (_rûl_) = Râo
= Râî; thus Jasrat Râî = Jasrat Râwal = Jasad Rawal = Jasadrûl. If
this be the case, it stands for Dasaratha, the father of Râma Chandra,
and so vicariously a great personage in Hindu story. It is obvious
that in giving names to demons or fairies the name of any legendary
or fabulous personage of fame will be brought under contribution.

_Shâhpasand_.--This is obviously a fancy name, like its prototype
Dilaram (Heart's Ease), and means King's Delight. The variant Hasan
Bano means the Lady of Beauty. In the Pushto version of probably the
original story the name is Gulandama = Rosa, a variant probably of the
Flower Princess. See Plowden's _Translation of the Kalid-i-Afghâní_,
p. 209 ff.

_Chief Constable_.--See note to Sir Buzz, _ante_.

_Emerald Mountain_.--Koh-i-Zamurrad in the original. The whole
story of Bahrâmgor is mixed up with the 'King of China,' and so it is
possible that the legendary fame of the celebrated Green Mount in the
Winter Palace at Pekin is referred to here (see Yule's _Marco Polo_,
vol. i. pp. 326-327 and 330). It is much more probable, however, that
the legends which are echoed here are local variants or memories of
the tale of the Old Man of the Mountain and the Assassins, so famous
in many a story in Europe and Asia in the Middle Ages, _e.g. The
Romans of Bauduin de Sebourg_, where the lovely Ivorine is the
heroine of the Red Mountain, and which has a general family likeness
to this tale worth observing (see on this point generally Yule's
_Marco Polo_, vol. i. pp. cxliv-cli and 132-140, and the notes to
_Ind. Ant._ vol. xi. p. 285 ff.; which last, though treated as
superseded here, may serve to throw light on the subject). It is
evident that we are here treading on very interesting ground, alive
with many memories of the East, which it would be well worth while to

_Nûnak Chand_.--Judging by the analogy of the name Nânaksâ (_sic_)
in _Indian Fairy Tales_, pp. 114 ff. and 276, where Nânaksâ,
obviously Nânak Shâh or Bâbâ Nânak, the founder of the Sikh religion,
_ob_. 1538 A.D., is turned into a wonder-working _faqîr_ of the
ordinary sort, it is a fair guess to say that this name is meant for him

_Safed_.--On the whole it is worth while hazarding that this name
is a corruption, or rather, an adaptation to a common word--_safed_,
white--of the name Saifur for the demon in the older legends of
Bahrâmgor. If so, it occurs there in connection with the universal
oriental name Faghfûr, for the Emperor of China. Yule, _Marco Polo_,
vol. ii. p. 110, points out that Faghfûr = Baghbûr = Bagh Pûr, a Persian
translation of the Chinese title Tien-tse, Son of Heaven, just as the
name or title Shâh Pûr = the Son of the King. Perhaps this Saifûr in the
same way = Shâh Pûr. But see note in _Ind. Ant._ vol. xi. p. 288.

_Antimony_.--Black sulphuret of antimony, used for pencilling the
eyes and beautifying them. There are two preparations for darkening the
eyes--_surma_ and _kâjal_. _Kâjal_ is fine lamp-black, but
the difference between its use and that of _surma_ is that the former
is used for making a blot to avoid the evil eye (_na*ar_) and the
latter merely as a beautifier.

_Yech-cap_.--For a detailed account of the _yech_ or _yâch_
of Kashmîr see _Ind. Ant._ vol. xi. pp. 260-261 and footnotes.
Shortly, it is a humorous though powerful sprite in the shape of an
animal smaller than a cat, of a dark colour, with a white cap on its
head. The feet are so small as to be almost invisible. When in this
shape it has a peculiar cry--_chot, chot, chû-û-ot, chot_. All this
probably refers to some night animal of the squirrel (? civet cat) tribe.
It can assume any shape, and, if its white cap can be got possession of,
it becomes the servant of the possessor. The cap renders the human wearer
invisible. Mythologically speaking, the _yech_ is the descendant of
the classical Hindu _yaksha_, usually described as an inoffensive,
harmless sprite, but also as a malignant imp.

_The farther you climb the higher it grows_.--This is evidently
borrowed from the common phenomenon of ridge beyond ridge, each in turn
deceiving the climber into the belief that he has reached the top.


_Khichrî_.--A dish of rice and pulse (_dâl_).

_The weights the bear carries._--These are palpable
exaggerations; thus in India the regulation camel-load is under 3
cwts., but they will carry up to 5 cwts. A strong hill-man in the
Himâlayas will carry 1/2 cwt., and on occasion almost a whole cwt. up
the hill.


_Lionheart_.--The full vernacular title of this Prince was Sherdil
Shahryâr Shahrâbâd, Lionheart, the Friend and Restorer of the City.
All these names are common titles of oriental monarchs.

_Knifegrinder_, _Blacksmith_, _Carpenter_.--In the
vernacular _sânwâlâ_, _lohár_, _tarkhân_. The first in
the East, like his brother in the West, is an itinerant journeyman, who
wanders about with a wheel for grinding.

_Demon_.--Here _bhût_, a malignant ghost or vampire, but as
his doings in the tale correspond more to those of a _deo_, demon,
than of a _bhût_, the word has been translated by 'demon.'

_Pîpal_.--Constantly occurring in folk-tales, is the _Ficus
religiosa_ of botanists, and a large fig-tree much valued for its
shade. It is sacred to Hindus, and never cut by them. One reason
perhaps may be that its shade is very valuable and its wood valueless.
Its leaves are used in divination to find out witches, thieves, liars,
_etc_., and it is the chosen haunt of ghosts and hobgoblins of all
sorts--hence its frequent appearance in folk-lore.

_Mannikin_.--The word used was the ordinary expression _maddhrâ_,
Panjâbî for a dwarf or pigmy.

_Ghost_.--_Churel_, properly the ghost of a woman who dies in
childbirth. The belief in these malignant spirits is universal, and a
source of much terror to natives by night. Their personal appearance is
fairly described in the text: very ugly and black, breastless,
protruding in stomach and navel, and feet turned back. This last is the
real test of a _churel_, even in her beautiful transformation. A
detailed account of the _churel_ and beliefs in her and the methods
of exorcism will be found in the _Calcutta Review_, No. cliii. p.
180 ff.

_Jinn_.--A Muhammadan spirit, properly neither man, angel, nor
devil, but superhuman. According to correct Muhammadan tradition, there
are five classes of _Jinns_ worth noting here for information--Jânn,
Jinn, Shaitân, 'Ifrît, and Mârid. They are all mentioned in Musalmân
folk-tales, and but seldom distinguished in annotations. In genuine
Indian folk-tales, however, the character ascribed to the Jinn, as here,
has been borrowed from the Rakshasa, which is Hindu in origin, and an
ogre in every sense of the European word.

_Smell of a man_.--The expression used is always in the vernacular
_mânushgandh_, _i.e._ man-smell. The direct Sanskrit descent
of the compound is worthy of remark.

_Starling_.--_Mainâ_: the _Gracula religiosa_, a talking
bird, much valued, and held sacred. It very frequently appears in folk-
tales, like the parrot, probably from being so often domesticated by
people of means and position for its talking qualities.

_Cup_.--_Donâ_, a cup made of leaves, used by the very poor as
a receptacle for food.

_Wise woman_.--_Kutnî_ and _paphe-kutnî_ were the words
used, of which perhaps 'wise woman' is the best rendering. _Kutnî_
is always a term of abuse and reproach, and is used in the sense of witch
or wise woman, but the bearers do not seem to possess, as a rule, any
supernatural powers. Hag, harridan, or any similar term will usually
correctly render the word.

_Flying palanquin_.--The words used for this were indifferently
_dolâ_, a bridal palanquin, and _burj_, a common word for a


_Lambikin_.--The words used were Panjâbî, _lelâ_, _lerâ_,
_lekrâ_, and _lelkarâ_, a small or young lamb.

_Lambikin's Songs_.--Of the first the words were Panjâbî--­

_Nânî kol jâwângû:
Motâ tâjâ âwângâ
Pher tûn main nûn khâwângâ._

Of the second song--­

_Wan piâ lelkarâ: wan pî tû.
Chal dhamkiriâ! Dham! Kâ! Dhû!_

These the rhymes render exactly. The words _dham_, _kâ_,
_dhû_ are pronounced sharply, so as to imitate the beats on a

_Drumikin_.--The _dhamkîriâ_ or _dhamkirî_ in Panjâbî is
a small drum made by stretching leather across a wide-mouthed earthen cup
(_piyâlâ_). The Jatts make it of a piece of hollow wood, 6 inches
by 3 inches, with its ends covered with leather.


_Bopolûchî_.--Means Trickster.

_Uncle: uncle-in-law_.--The words used were _mâmû_, mother's
brother, and _patiauhrâ_, husband's (or father-in-law's) younger

_Pedlar_.--_Wanjârâ_ or _banjârâ_ (from _wanaj_ or
_banaj_, a bargain), a class of wandering pedlars who sell spices,

_Robber_.--The word used was _thag_, _lit._ a deceiver.
The _Thags_ are a class but too well known in India as those who
make their living by deceiving and strangling travellers. Meadows
Taylor's somewhat sensational book, _The Confessions of a Thug_, has
made their doings familiar enough, too, in England. In the Indian Penal
Code a _thag_ is defined as a person habitually associated with
others for the purpose of committing robbery or child-stealing by means
of murder.

_Crow's, etc., verses,_.--The original words were--­

_Bopo Lûchi!
Aqlon ghuthî,
Thag nâl thagî gai._

Bopo Lûchi!
You have lost your wits,
And have been deceived by a _thag_.

_Bridal scarlet_.--Every Panjâbî bride, however poor, wears a
dress of scarlet and gold for six months, and if rich, for two years.


_Princess Aubergine,_--The vernacular name for the story is
_Baingan Bâdshâhzâdî._ The Baingan, baigan, begun, or bhântâ is
the _Solanum melongena,_ _i.e_. the egg-plant, or
_aubergine._ Europeans in India know it by the name of
_brinjâl;_ it is a very common and popular vegetable in the

_Exchanging veils,_--To exchange veils among women, and to
exchange turbans among men, is a common way of swearing friendship
among Panjâbîs. The women also drink milk out of the same cup on such

_Nine-lakh necklace_,--The introduction of the _Nau-lakkhâ
hâr,_ or nine-_lâkh_ necklace, is a favourite incident in
Indian folk-tales. _Nau-lakkhâ_ means worth nine lâkhs, or nine
hundred thousand rupees. Frequently magic powers are ascribed to this
necklace, but the term _nau-lakkhâ_ has come also to be often
used conventionally for 'very valuable,' and so is applied to gardens,
palaces, _etc_. Probably all rich Rajas have a hankering to
really possess such a necklace, and the last Mahârâjâ of Patiâlâ,
about fifteen years ago, bought a real one of huge diamonds, including
the Sansy, for Rupees 900,000. It is on show always at the palace in
the fort at Patiâlâ.


_Valiant Vicky, the Brave Weaver,_--In the original the title is
'Fatteh Khân, the valiant weaver.' Victor Prince is a very fair
translation of the name Fatteh Khân. The original says his nickname
or familiar name was Fattû, which would answer exactly to Vicky for
Victor. Fattû is a familiar (diminutive form) of the full name Fatteh
Khân. See _Proper Names of Panjâbîs, passim,_ for the
explanation of this.


For a long and interesting variant of this tale see _Indian
Antiquary,_ vol. x. p. 151 ff.

_Fakîr,_--Properly _faqîr_, is a Muhammadan devotee, but in
modern India the term is used for any kind of holy man, whatever be
his religion. For instance, the 'Salvation Army' were styled at
Lahore, at a meeting of natives, by a Sikh gentleman of standing, as
_Vilâyatî_ _fuqrâ_, European _faqîrs_. The power of
granting children to barren women is ascribed in story to all saints
and holy personages of fame.

_Witch_--The word used was _dâyan_. In the Panjâb a woman
with the evil eye (which by the way is not necessarily in India
possessed by the wicked only, see _Panjâb Notes and Queries_,
1883-84, _passim_), who knows the _dâyan kâ mantar_, or
charm for destroying life by taking out the heart. The word in its
various modern forms is derived from the classical _dâkinî_, the
female demon attendant on Kali, the goddess of destruction.

_Jôgi's wonderful cow_--The _jôgi_ is a Hindu ascetic, but
like the word _faqîr_, _jôgi_ is often used for any kind of
holy man, as here. Supernatural powers are very commonly ascribed to
them, as well as the universal attribute of granting sons.
Classically the _yôgi_ is the devotee seeking _yoga_, the
union of the living with the sublime soul. The wonderful cow is the
modern fabulously productive cow _Kâmdhain_, representing the
classical _Kâmdhenu_, the cow of Indra that granted all desires.
Hence, probably, the dragging in here of Indra for the master of the
_jôgi_ of the tale. _Kâmdhain_ and _Kâmdhenu_ are both
common terms to the present day for cows that give a large quantity of

_Eighteen thousand demons_--No doubt the modern
representatives--the specific number given being, as is often the
case, merely conventionally--of the guards of Indra, who were in
ancient days the _Maruts_ or Winds, and are in modern times his
Court. See note.


_The Song_.--The form of words in the original is important. The
following gives the variants and the strict translation--­

_Tû Chhappar Dâs, Main Kâng Dâs, Deo paneriyâ, Dhoven
chucheriyâ, Khâwen khijeriyâ, Dekh chiriyâ kâ chûchlâ, Main
kâng sapariyâ._

You are Mr. Tank,
I am Mr. Crow,
Give me water,
That I may wash my beak,
And eat my _khichrî_,
See the bird's playfulness,
I am a clean crow.

_Tû Lohâr Dâs, Main Kâng Dâs, Tû deo pharwâ, Main khodûn
ghasarwâ, Khilâwen bhainsarwâ, Chowen dûdharwâ, Pilâwen
hirnarwâ, Toren singarwâ, Khôden chalarwâ, Nikâlen panarwâ,
Dhoven chunjarwâ, Khâwen khijarwâ, Dehk chiriyâ kâ chûchlâ,
Main kâng saparwâ._

You are Mr. Blacksmith,
I am Mr. Crow,
You give me a spade,
And I will dig the grass,
That I may give it the buffalo to eat,
And take her milk,
And give it the deer to drink,
And break his horn,
And dig the hole,
And take out the water,
And wash my beak,
And eat my _khichrî_,
See the bird's playfulness,
I am a clean crow.


_The Tiger, the Brâhman, and the Jackal_. A very common and
popular Indian tale. Under various forms it is to be found in most
collections. Variants exist in the _Bhâgavata Purâna_ and the
_Gul Bakâolâ_, and in the _Amvâr-i-Suhelî_. A variant is
also given in the _Indian Antiquary_, vol. xii. p. 177.

_Buffalo's complaint_.--The work of the buffalo in the oil-press
is the synonym all India over--and with good reason--for hard and
thankless toil for another's benefit.

_As miserable as a fish out of water_.--In the original the
allusion is to a well-known proverb--_mandâ hâl wâng Jatt jharî de_--
as miserable as a Jatt in a shower. Any one who has seen the
appearance of the Panjâbî cultivator attempting to go to his fields on
a wet, bleak February morning, with his scant clothing sticking to his
limp and shivering figure, while the biting wind blows through him,
will well understand the force of the proverb.


_King of the Crocodiles_--In the original the title is Bâdshâh

_Lying amid the crops_--It is commonly said in the Panjâb that
crocodiles do so.

_Demons of crocodiles_.--The word used for _demon_ here was
_jinn_, which is remarkable in this connection.

_Henna_--_Mehndî_ or _hinâ_ is the _Lawsonia
alba_, used for staining the finger and toe nails of the bride
red. The ceremony of _sanchit_, or conveying the _henna_ to
the bride by a party of the bride's friends, is the one alluded to.


_Little Anklebone_--This tale appears to be unique among Indian
folk-tales, and is comparable with Grimm's Singing Bone. It is
current in the _Bâr_ or wilds of the Gujrânwâlâ District, among
the cattle-drovers' children. Wolves are very common there, and the
story seems to point to a belief in some invisible shepherd, a sort of
Spirit of the Bâr, whose pipe may be heard. The word used for 'Little
Ankle-bone' was _Gîrî_, a diminutive form of the common word
_gittâ_. In the course of the story in the original, Little
Anklebone calls himself Giteta Ram, an interesting instance of the
process of the formation of Panjâbî proper names.

_Auntie_--Mâsî, maternal aunt.

_Tree that weeps over yonder pond_--_Ban_, _i.e.
Salvadora oleoides_, a common tree of the Panjâb forests.

_Jackal howled_--A common evil omen.

_Marble basins_--The word used was _daurâ_, a wide-mouthed
earthen vessel, and also in palaces a marble drinking-trough for

_The verses_,--The original and literal translation are as

_Kyûn garjâe badalâ garkanâe?
Gaj karak sâre des;
Ohnân hirnîân de than pasmâe:
Gitetâ Râm gîâ pardes!_

Why echo, O thundering clouds?
Roar and echo through all the land;
The teats of the does yonder are full of milk:
Gitetâ Râm has gone abroad!


_Providence_--_Khudâ_ and _Allah_ were the words for
Providence or God in this tale, it being a Muhammadan one.

_Kabâbs_--Small pieces of meat roasted or fried on skewers with
onions and eggs: a favourite Muhammadan dish throughout the East.

_His own jackal_--From time immemorial the tiger has been
supposed to be accompanied by a jackal who shows him his game and gets
the leavings as his wages. Hence the Sanskrit title of
_vyâghra-nâyaka_ or tiger-leader for the jackal.

_Pigtail_--The Kashmîrî woman's hair is drawn to the back of the
head and finely braided. The braids are then gathered together and,
being mixed with coarse woollen thread, are worked into a very long
plait terminated by a thick tassel, which reaches almost down to the
ankles. It is highly suggestive of the Chinese pigtail, but it is far
more graceful.


_Barley meal instead of wheaten cakes_--_Jau kî roti_,
barley bread, is the poor man's food, as opposed to _gihûn kî
rotî_, wheaten bread, the rich man's food. Barley bread is apt to
produce flatulence.

_With empty stomachs, etc._--The saying is well known and runs

_Kahîn mat jâo khâlî pet.
Hove mâgh yâ hove jeth._

Go nowhere on an empty stomach,
Be it winter or be it summer.

Very necessary and salutary advice in a feverish country like India.

_If any man eats me, etc._--Apparent allusion to the saying
rendered in the following verse--­

_Jo nar totâ mârkar khâve per ke heth, Kuchh sansâ man na
dhare, woh hogâ râjâ jeth. Jo mainâ ko mâr khâ, man men rakhe
dhîr; Kuchh chintâ man na kare, woh sadâ rahegâ wazîr._

Who kills a parrot and eats him under a tree,
Should have no doubt in his mind, he will be a great king.
Who kills and eats a starling, let him be patient:
Let him not be troubled in his mind, he will be minister for life.

_Snake-demon_--The word was _isdâr_, which represents the
Persian _izhdahâ_, _izhdâr_, or _izhdar_, a large
serpent, python.

_Sacred elephant_.--The reference here is to the legend of the
_safed hâthî_ or _dhaulâ gaj_, the white elephant. He is the
elephant-headed God Ganesa, and as such is, or rather was formerly,
kept by Râjâs as a pet, and fed to surfeit every Tuesday (_Mangalwâr_)
with sweet cakes (_chûrîs_). After which he was taught to go down
on his knees to the Râjâ and swing his trunk to and fro, and this was
taken as sign that he acknowledged his royalty. He was never ridden
except occasionally by the Râjâ himself. Two sayings, common to the
present day, illustrate these ideas--'_Woh to Mahârâjâ hai, dhaule gaj
par sowâr_: he is indeed king, for he rides the white elephant.'
And '_Mahârâjâ dhaulâ gajpati kidohâî_: (I claim the) protection
of the great king, the lord of the white elephant.' The idea appears to
be a very old one, for Ælian (_Hist. Anim._ vol. iii. p. 46),
quoting Megasthenes, mentions the white elephant. See M'Crindle,
_India as described by Megasthenes and Arrian_, pp. 118, 119;
_Indian Antiquary_, vol. vi. p. 333 and footnote.

_Brass drinking bowl_.--The _lotâ_, universal throughout India.

_Ogre_.--In the original _râkhas_ = the Sanskrit _râkhasa_,
translated ogre advisedly for the following reasons:--The _râkhasa_
(_râkhas_, an injury) is universal in Hindu mythology as a
superhuman malignant fiend inimical to man, on whom he preys, and that
is his character, too, throughout Indian folk-tales. He is elaborately
described in many an orthodox legend, but very little reading between
the lines in these shows him to have been an alien enemy on the borders
of Aryan tribes. The really human character of the _râkhasa_ is
abundantly evident from the stories about him and his doings. He
occupies almost exactly the position in Indian tales that the ogre does
in European story, and for the same reason, as he represents the memory
of the savage tribes along the old Aryan borders. The ogre, no doubt, is
the Uighur Tâtar magnified by fear into a malignant demon. For the
_râkhasa_ see the _Dictionaries_ of Dowson, Garrett, and Monier
Williams, _in verbo_; Muir's _Sanskrit Texts_, vol. ii. p.
420, _etc_.: and for the ogre see _Panjâb Notes and Queries_,
vol. i., in verbo.

_Goat_.--The ogre's eating a goat is curious: _cf_. the
Sanskrit name _ajagara_, goat-eater, for the python (nowadays
_ajgar_), which corresponds to the _izhdahâ_ or serpent-demon
on p. 131.


_The verses_.--In the original they are--­

Chândî dâ merâ chauntrâ, koî sonâ lipâî!
Kâne men merâ gûkrû, shâhzâdâ baithâ hai!

My platform is of silver, plastered with gold!
Jewels are in my ears, I sit here a prince!

_The verses_.--In the original they are--­

_Hadî dâ terâ chauntrâ, koî gobar lipaî!
Kâne men terî jûtî; koî gîdar baithâ hai!_

Thy platform is of bones, plastered with cow-dung!
Shoes are in thy ears; some jackal sits there!


_Verses_.--In the original these are--­

_Saukan rangan men charhî,
Main bhî rangan men parî,_

My co-wife got dyed,
I too fell into the vat.

_Verses_.--In the original--­

_Ik sarî, ik balî;
Ik hinak mode charhî,_

One is vexed and one grieved;
And one is carried laughing on the shoulder.

The allusion here is to a common tale. The story goes that a man who
had two wives wanted to cross a river. Both wives wanted to go across
first with him, so in the end, leaving the elder to walk, he took the
younger on his shoulder, who mocked the elder with the words--­

_Ik sarî, dûî balî;
Dûî jâî mûnde charhî._

First she was vexed, next she grieved;
While the other went across on the shoulder.

Hence the sting of the old sparrow's taunt.

_Verses_.--In the original--­

_Ik chamkhat hûî;
Chirî rangan charhî;
Chirâ bedan karî;
Pîpal patte jharî;
Mahîn sing jharî;
Naîn bahí khârî;
Koïl hûî kânî;
Bhagtû diwanî;
Bandî padnî;
Rânî nâchnî;
Putr dholkî bajânî;
Râjâ sargî bajânî;_

One hen painted,
And the other was dyed,
And the cock loved her,
So the _pîpal_ shed its leaves,
And the buffalo her horns,
So the river became salt,
And the cuckoo lost an eye,
So Bhagtû went mad,
And the maid took to swearing,
So the Queen took to dancing,
And the Prince took to drumming,
And the King took to thrumming.


_Princess Pepperina_.--In the original _Shâhzâdî Mirchâ_ or
_Filfil Shâhzâdî: mirch_ is the _Capsicum annuum_ or common
chilli, green and red.

_Sheldrakes_.--The _chakwâ_, male, and _chakwî_, female,
is the ruddy goose or sheldrake, known to Europeans as the Brâhmanî
duck, _Anas casarca_ or _Casarca rutila_. It is found all over
India in the winter, and its plaintive night cry has given rise to a
very pretty legend. Two lovers are said to have been for some
indiscretion turned into Brâhmanî ducks, and condemned to pass the
night apart from each other, on the opposite sides of a river. All
night long each asks the other in turn if it shall join its mate,
and the answer is always 'no.' The words supposed to be said are--­

_Chakwâ, main âwân? Nâ, Chakwî!_
_Chakwî, main âwân? Nâ, Chakwâ!_

Chakwâ, shall I come? No, Chakwî!
Chakwî, shall I come? No, Chakwâ!


_Peasie and Beansie_, p. 167.--In the original Motho and Mûngo.
_Motho_ is a vetch, _Phaseolus aconitifolius_; and
_mûng_ is a variety of pulse, _Phaseolus mungo_. Peasie and
Beansie are very fair translations of the above.

_Plum-tree_, p. 167.--_Ber, Zizyphus jujuba._


_King 'Ali Mardân_--'Ali Mardân Khân belongs to modern history,
having been Governor (not King, as the tale has it) of Kashmîr, under
the Emperor Shâh Jahân, about A.D. 1650, and very famous in India in
many ways. He was one of the most magnificent governors Kashmîr ever
had, and is now the best-remembered.

_Snake-Woman_--In the original _Lamiâ_, said in Kashmîr to
be a snake 200 years old, and to possess the power of becoming a
woman. In India, especially in the hill districts, it is called
_Yahawwâ_. In this tale the _Lamiâ_ is described as being a
_Wâsdeo_, a mythical serpent. _Wâsdeo_ is the same as
Vâsudeva, a descendant of Vasudeva. Vasudeva was the earthly father
of Krishna and of his elder brother Balarâma, so Balarâma was a
Vâsudeva. Balarâma in the classics is constantly mixed up with Sèsha
(now Sesh Nâg), a king of serpents, and with Vâsuki (Bâsak Nâg), also
a king of serpents; while Ananta, the infinite, the serpent whose
legend combines that of Vâsuki and Sêsha, is mixed not only with
Balarâma, but also with Krishna. Hence the name Wâsdeo for a
serpent. The Lamiâ is not only known in India from ancient times to
the present day, but also in Tibet and Central Asia generally, and in
Europe from ancient to mediæval times, and always as a malignant
supernatural being. For discussions on her, see notes to the above in
the _Indian Antiquary_, vol. xi. pp. 230-232, and the discussion
following, entitled 'Lamiâ or Λαμια' pp. 232-235. Also
_Comparetti's Researches into the Book of Sindibâd_, Folklore
Society's ed., _passim_.

_Dal Lake_--The celebrated lake at Srinagar in Kashmîr.

_Emperor of China's Handmaiden_--A common way of explaining the
origin of unknown girls in Musâlman tales. Kashmîr is essentially a
Musalmân country._

_Shalimâr gardens_.--At Srinagar, made by the Emperor Jahangir,
who preceded 'Ali Mardân Khân by a generation, for Nûr Mahal. Moore,
_Lalla Rookh_, transcribes in describing them the well-known
Persian verses in the Dîwân-i-Khâs (Hall of Private Audience) at Delhi
and elsewhere--­

'And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.'

The verses run really thus--­

_Agar firdûs ba rû-e-zamîn ast,
Hamîn ast o hamîn ast o hamîn ast!_

If there be an Elysium on the face of the earth,
It is here, and it is here, and it is here!

Shâh Jahân built the Shâlimâr gardens at Lahor, in imitation of those
at Srinagar, and afterwards Ranjît Singh restored them. They are on
the Amritsar Road.

_Gangâbal_.--A holy lake on the top of Mount Harâmukh, 16,905 feet,
in the north of Kashmîr. It is one of the sources of the Jhelam River,
and the scene of an annual fair about 20th August.

_Khichrî_.--Sweet khichrî consists of rice, sugar, cocoa-nut,
raisins, cardamoms, and aniseed; salt khichrî of pulse and rice.

_The stone in the ashes_.--The _pâras_, in Sanskrit
_sparsamani_, the stone that turns what it touches into gold.

_Attock_.--In the original it is the Atak River (the Indus) near
Hoti Mardân, which place is near Atak or Attock. The similarity in
the names 'Ali Mardan and Hotî Mardân probably gave rise to this
statement. They have no connection whatever.


_The Wonderful Ring_.--In the vernacular _'ajab mundrâ_: a
variant of the inexhaustible box.

_Holy place_.--_Chaunkâ_, a square place plastered with
cow-dung, used by Hindus when cooking or worshipping. The cow-dung
sanctifies and purifies it.

_Aunt_.--_Mâsî_, maternal aunt.


_Plums_, p. 195.--_Ber, Zyziphus jujuba_.


_The verses_.--In the original they were--­

_Phir gîâ billî ke pâs,
'Billî, rî billî, mûsâ khâogî'
Khâtî khûnd pâr nâ!
Khûnd chanâ de nâ!
Râjâ khâtî dande nâ!
Râjâ rânî russe nâ!
Sapnâ rânî dase nâ!
Lâthî sapnâ mâre nâ!
Âg lâthî jalâve nâ!
Samundar âg bujhâve nâ!
Hâthî samundar sukhe nâ!
Nâre hâthî bandhe nâ!
Mûsâ nâre kâte nâ!
Lûngâ phir chorûn? nâ!'

He then went to the cat (saying),
'Cat, cat, eat mouse.
Woodman won't cut tree!
Tree won't give peas!
King won't beat woodman!
Queen won't storm at king!
Snake won't bite queen!
Stick won't beat snake!
Fire won't burn stick!
Sea won't quench fire!
Elephant won't drink up sea!
Thong won't bind elephant!
Mouse won't nip thong!
I'll take (the pea) yet, I won't let it go!'_

It will be seen that in the text the order has been transposed for
obvious literary convenience.

_Verses_.--In the original these are--­

_Usne kahâ, 'Lap, lap, khâûngî!'
Phir gîâ mûsâ ke pâs, 'Mûsâ, re mûsâ, ab khâ jâoge?' 'Ham bhî
nâre katenge.'
Phir gîâ nâre ke pâs, 'Nâre, re nâre, ab kâte jâoge?' 'Ham bhî
hâthî bandhenge.'
Phir gîâ hâthî ke pâs, 'Hâthî, re hâthî, ab bandhe jâoge?' 'Ham
bhî samundar sûkhenge.'
Phir gîâ samundar ke pâs, 'Samundar, re samundar, ab sukhe
jâoge?' 'Ham bhî âg bujhâenge.'
Phir gîâ âg ke pâs, 'Âg, rî âg, ab bujhâî jâogi?' 'Ham bhî lâthî
Phir gîâ lâthî ke pâs, 'Lâthî, re lâthî, ab jal jâoge?' 'Ham bhî
sâmp mârenge.'
Phir gîâ samp ke pâs, 'Sâmp, re sâmp, ab mâre jâoge?' 'Ham bhî
rânî dasenge?'
Phir gîâ rânî ke pâs, 'Rânî, rî rânî, ab dasî jâoge?' 'Ham bhî
râjâ rusenge.'
Phir gîâ râjâ ke pâs, 'Râjâ, re raja, ab rânî rus jâoge?' 'Ham
bhî khâtî dândenge.'
Phir gîâ khâtî ke pâs, 'Khâtî, re khâtî, ab dande jâoge?' 'Ham
bhî khund kâtenge.'
Phir gîâ khund ke pâs, 'Khund, re khund, ab kâte jâoge?' 'Ham
bhî chanâ denge.'
Phir woh chanâ lekar chalâ gîâ?_

The cat said, 'I will eat him up at once!'
(So) he went to the mouse, 'Mouse, mouse, will you be eaten?' 'I
will gnaw the thong.'
He went to the thong, 'Thong, thong, will you be gnawed?' 'I
will bind the elephant.'
He went to the elephant, 'Elephant, elephant, will you be bound?'
'I will drink up the ocean.'
He went to the ocean, 'Ocean, ocean, will you be drunk up?' 'I
will quench the fire.'
He went to the fire, 'Fire, fire, will you be quenched?' 'I will
burn the stick.'
He went to the stick, 'Stick, stick, will you be burnt?' 'I will
beat the snake.'
He went to the snake, 'Snake, snake, will you be beaten?' 'I will
bite the queen.'
He went to the queen, 'Queen, queen, will you be bitten?' 'I will
storm at the king.'
He went to the king, 'King, king, will you be stormed at by the
queen?' 'I will beat the woodman.'
He went to the woodman, 'Woodman, woodman, will you be
beaten?' 'I will cut down the trunk.'
He went to the trunk, 'Trunk, trunk, will you be cut down?' 'I
will give you the pea.'
So he got the pea and went away.


_Money-lender_--_Lîdû_, a disreputable tradesman, a sharp

_Râm_--Râma Chandra, now 'God' _par excellence_.

_Conch_--_Sankh_, the shell used in Hindu worship for
blowing upon.


_Lord of Death_.--_Maliku'l-maut_ is the Muhammadan form of
the name, _Kâl_ is the Hindu form. The belief is that every
living being has attached to him a 'Lord of Death.' He is represented
in the 'passion plays' so common at the Dasahra and other festivals by
a hunchbacked dwarf, quite black, with scarlet lips, fastened to a
'keeper' by a black chain and twirling about a black wand. The idea
is that until this chain is loosened or broken the life which he is to
kill is safe. The notion is probably of Hindu origin. For a note on
the subject see _Indian Antiquary_, vol. x. pp. 289, 290.


_The Wrestlers_.--The story seems to be common all over India. In
the _Indian Antiquary_, vol. x. p. 230, it is suggested that it
represents some aboriginal account of the creation.

_Ten thousand pounds weight_.--In the original 160 _mans_,
which weigh over 13,000 lbs._


_Gwâshbrâri, etc_.--The Westarwân range is the longest spur into
the valley of Kashmîr. The remarkably clear tilt of the strata
probably suggested this fanciful and poetical legend. All the
mountains mentioned in the tale are prominent peaks in Kashmîr, and
belong to what Cunningham (_Ladâk_, 1854, ch. iii.) calls the Pîr
Panjâl and Mid-Himâlayan Range. Nangâ Parbat, 26,829 ft., is to the
N.W.; Harâ Mukh, 16,905 ft., to the N.; Gwâshbrâri or Kolahoî, 17,839
ft., to the N.E. Westarwân is a long ridge running N.W. to S.E.,
between Khrû and Sotûr, right into the Kashmîr valley. Khru is not
far from Srinagar, to the S.E.

_Lay at Gwâshbrâri's feet, his head upon her heart_.--As a matter
of fact, Westarwân does not lay his head anywhere near Gwâshbrâri's
feet, though he would appear to do so from Khrû, at which place the
legend probably arose. An excellent account of the country between
Khrû and Sesh Nâg, traversing most of that lying between Westarwân and
Gwâshbrâri, by the late Colonel Cuppage, is to be found at pp. 206-221
of Ince's _Kashmîr Handbook_, 3rd ed., 1876.


_Hornets' nest_.--Properly speaking, bees. This species makes a
so-called nest, _i.e._ a honey-comb hanging from the branch of a
tree, usually a _pîpal_, over which the insects crawl and jostle
each other in myriads in the open air. When roused, and any accident
may do this, they become dangerous enemies, and will attack and sting
to death any animal near. They form a real danger in the Central
Indian jungles, and authentic cases in which they have killed horses
and men, even Europeans, are numerous.

_Fairy_.--_Parî_, fairy, peri: the story indicates a very
common notion.


_Verses_.--In the original they are--­

_Gâdar, ghar kyâ lâyâ?
Kyâ chîz kamâyâ?
Ki merâ khâtir pâyâ._

Jackal, what hast thou brought home?
What thing hast thou earned?
That I may obtain my wants.

The story has a parallel in most Indian collections, and two in
_Uncle Remus_, in the stories of 'The Rabbit and the Wolf' and of
'The Terrapin and the Rabbit.'


_Raja Rasâlu_--The chief legendary hero of the Panjâb, and
probably a Scythian or non-Aryan king of great mark who fought both
the Aryans to the east and the invading tribes (? Arabs) to the
west. Popularly he is the son of the great Scythian hero Sâlivâhana,
who established the Sâka or Scythian era in 78 A.D. Really he,
however, probably lived much later, and his date should be looked for
at any period between A.D. 300 and A.D. 900. He most probably
represented the typical Indian kings known to the Arab historians as
flourishing between 697 and 870 A.D. by the synonymous names Zentil,
Zenbil, Zenbyl, Zambil, Zantil, Ranbal, Ratbyl, Reteil, Retpeil,
Rantal, Ratpil, Ratteil, Ratbal, Ratbil, Ratsal, Rusal, Rasal, Rasil.
These are all meant for the same word, having arisen from the
uncertainty of the Arabic character and the ignorance of
transcribers. The particular king meant is most likely the opponent
of Hajjaj and Muhammad Qasim between 697 and 713 A.D. The whole
subject is involved in the greatest obscurity, and in the Panjâb his
story is almost hopelessly involved in pure folklore. It has often
been discussed in learned journals. See _Indian Antiquary_, vol.
xi. pp. 299 ff. 346-349, vol. xii. p. 303 ff., vol. xiii. p. 155 ff.;
_Journal Asiatic Society of Bengal_ for 1854, pp. 123-163,
_etc_.; Elliot's _History of India_, vol. i. pp. 167, 168,
vol. ii. pp. 178, 403-427.

_Lonan_--For a story of Lonân, see _Indian Antiquary_, vol.
ix. p. 290.

_Thrown into a deep well_--Still shown on the road between
Siâlkot and Kallowâl.

_Gurû Gorakhnâth_--The ordinary _deux ex machinâ_ of modern
folk-tales. He is now supposed to be the reliever of all troubles,
and possessed of most miraculous powers, especially over snakes. In
life he seems to have been the Brâhmanical opponent of the mediæval
reformers of the fifteenth century A.D. By any computation Pûran
Bhagat must have lived centuries before him.

_Pûran Bhagat_.--Is in story Râjâ Rasâlû's elder brother. There
are numerous poems written about his story, which is essentially that
of Potiphar's wife. The parallel between the tales of Raja Rasâlu and
Pûran Bhagat and those of the Southern Aryan conqueror Vikramâditya
and his (in legend) elder brother Bhatrihari, the saint and philosopher,
is worthy of remark.


_Bhaunr' Irâqi_.--The name of Rasâlu's horse; but the name
probably should be Bhaunri Rakhi, kept in the underground cellar.
'Irâqi means Arabian.

_Verses_.--In the original these are--­

_Main âiâ thâ salâm nûn, tûn baithâ pîth maror!
Main nahîn terâ râj wandânundâ; main nûn nahîn râj te lor._

I came to salute thee, and thou hast turned thy back on me!
I have no wish to share thy kingdom! I have no desire for empire.

_Mahlân de vich baithîe, tûn ro ro na sunâ! Je tûn merî mâtâ
hain, koî mat batlâ! Matte dendî hai mân tain nûn, putar: gin
gin jholî ghat! Châre Khûntân tûn râj kare, par changâ rakhîn

O sitting in the palace, let me not hear thee weeping!
If thou be my mother give me some advice!
Thy mother doth advise thee, son: stow it carefully away in thy
Thou wilt reign in the Four Quarters, but keep thyself good and

_Verses_.--In the original these are--­

_Thorâ thorâ, betâ, tûn disîn, aur bahotî disî dhûr:
Putr jinân de tur chale, aur mâwân chiknâ chûr._

It is little I see of thee, my son, but I see much dust.
The mother, whose son goes away on a journey, becomes as a powder
(reduced to great misery).


_Verses_.--Originals are--­

_Agge sowen lef nihâlîân, ajj sutâ suthrâ ghâs!
Sukh wasse yeh des, jâhan âeajj dî rât!_

Before thou didst sleep on quilts, to-day thou has slept on clean
Mayest thou live happy in this land whither thou hast come this

_Snake_--Most probably represents a man of the 'Serpent Race' a
Nâga, Taka, or Takshak.

_Unspeakable horror_--The undefined word _âfat_, horror,
terror, was used throughout.

_Verses_--Originals are--­

_Sadâ na phûlan torîân, nafrâ: sadâ na Sâwan hoe:
Sadâ na joban thir rahe: sadâ na jive koe:
Sadâ na râjiân hâkimî: sâda na râjiân des:
Sadâ na hove ghar apnâ, nafrâ, bhath piâ pardes_.

_Tcrîs_ (a mustard plant) do not always flower, my servant: it
is not always the rainy season (time of joy).
Youth does not always last: no one lives for ever:
Kings are not always rulers: kings have not always lands:
They have not always homes, my servant: they fall into great
troubles in strange lands.

These verses of rustic philosophy are universal favourites, and have
been thus rendered in the _Calcutta Review_, No. clvi. pp. 281,

Youth will not always stay with us:
We shall not always live:
Rain doth not always fall for us:
Nor flowers blossoms give.

Great kings not always rulers are:
They have not always lands:
Nor have they always homes, but know
Sharp grief at strangers' hands.


_Giants_--_Râkshasa_, for which see previous notes.

_Nîlâ city_--Most probably Bâgh Nîlâb on the Indus to the south
of Atak.

_Verses_--In the original these are--­

_Na ro, mata bholîe: na aswân dhalkâe: Tere bete ki 'îvaz main
sir desân châe. Nîle-ghorewâlîd Râjâ, munh dhârî, sir pag, Woh
jo dekhte âunde, jin khâiâ sârâ jag_.

Weep not, foolish mother, drop no tears:
I will give my head for thy son.
Gray-horsed Raja: bearded face and turban on head,
He whom you see coming is he who has destroyed my life!

_Verses_--In original--­

_Nasso, bhajo, bhâîo! Dekho koî gali! Tehrî agg dhonkaî, so
sir te ân balî! Sûjhanhârî sûjh gae; hun laihndî charhdî jâe!
Jithe sânûn sûkh mile, so jhatpat kare upâe!

Fly, fly, brethren! look out for some road!
Such a fire is burning that it will come and burn our heads!
Our fate has come, we shall now be destroyed!
Make some plan at once for our relief._

_Gandgari Mountains_--Gandgarh Hills, to the north of Atak; for a
detailed account of this legend see _Journal Asiatic Society of
Bengal_ for 1854, p. 150 ff.


_Hodînagarî_--A veritable will-o'-the-wisp in the ancient Panjâb
geography: Hodînagarî, Udenagar, Udaynagar, is the name of
innumerable ruins all over the northern Panjâb, from Siâlkot to
Jalâlâbâd in Afghânistân beyond the Khaibar Pass. Here it is more
than probably some place in the Rawâl Pindi or Hazârâ Districts along
the Indus.

_Rânî Sundrân_--The daughter of Hari Chand.

_Alakh_--'In the Imperishable Name,' the cry of religious
mendicants when begging.

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Jâe bûhe te kilkiâ: lîa nâm Khudâ:
Dûron chalke, Rânî Sundrân, terâ nâ:
Je, Rânî, tû sakhî hain, kharî faqîrân pâ:_

Coming to the threshold I called out: I took the name of God:
Coming from afar, Rânî Sundrân, on account of thy name.
If thou art generous, Rânî, the beggar will obtain alms.

The _Musalmân_ word _Khudâ_, God, here is noticeable, as
Rasâlû was personating a _Hindu jôgi_.


_Kab kî pâî mundran? Kab kâ hûâ faqîr? Kis ghatâ mânion? Kis
kâ lâgâ tîr! Kete mâen mangiâ? Mere ghar kî mangî bhîkh? Kal
kî pâî mundrân! Kal kâ hûâ faqîr! Na ghat, mâîân, mâniân: kal
kâ lagâ tîr. Kuchh nahîn munh mangî: Kewal tere ghar ke

When didst thou get thy earring? When wast thou made a _faqîr?_
What is thy pretence? Whose arrow of love hath struck thee?
From how many women hast thou begged? What alms dost thou beg from me?
Yesterday I got my earring: yesterday I became a _faqîr_.
I make no pretence, mother: yesterday the arrow struck me.
I begged nothing: only from thy house do I beg.

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Tarqas jariâ tîr motîân; lâlân jarî kumân; Pinde bhasham
lagâiâ: yeh mainân aur rang; Jis bhikhiâ kâ lâbhî hain tû wohî
bhikhiâ mang. Tarqas jariâ merâ motîân: lâlân jarî kumân. Lâl
na jânâ bechke, motî be-wattî. Motî apne phir lai; sânûn pakkâ
tâm diwâ._

Thy quiver is full of pearly arrows: thy bow is set with rubies:
Thy body is covered with ashes: thy eyes and thy colour thus:
Ask for the alms thou dost desire.
My quiver is set with pearls: my bow is set with rubies.
I know not how to sell pearls and rubies without loss.
Take back thy pearls: give me some cooked food.

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Kahân tumhârî nagari? kahân tumhârâ thâon? Kis râjâ kâ betrâ
jôgî? kyâ tumhârâ nâon? Siâlkot hamârî nagarî; wohî hamârâ
thâon. Râjâ Sâlivâhan kâ main betrâ: Lonâ parî merâ mâon.
Pinde bhasam lagâe, dekhan terî jâon. Tainûn dekhke chaliâ: Râjâ
Rasâlu merâ nâon._

Where is thy city? Where is thy home?
What king's son art thou, _jôgi?_ What is thy name?
Sialkot is my city: that is my home.
I am Râjâ Sâlivâhan's son: the fairy Lonâ is my mother.
Ashes are on my body: (my desire was) to see thy abode.
Having seen thee I go away: Râjâ Rasâlû is my name.

_Sati_.--The rite by which widows burn themselves with their


_Raja Sarkap_.--_Lit_. King Beheader is a universal hero of
fable, who has left many places behind him connected with his memory,
but who he was has not yet been ascertained.

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Bâre andar piâ karanglâ, na is sâs, na pâs. Je Maullâ is nûn
zindâ kare, do bâtân kare hamâre sâth. Laihndion charhî badalî,
hâthân pâiâ zor: Kehe 'amal kamâio, je jhaldi nahîn ghor?_

The corpse has fallen under the hedge, no breath in him, nor any one
If God grant him life he may talk a little with me.
The clouds rose in the west and the storm was very fierce;
What hast thou done that the grave doth not hold thee?

_Verses_.--In original--­

Asîn bhî kadîn duniyân te inhân the;
Râjâ nal degrîân pagân banhde,
Turde pabhân bhâr.
Âunde tara, nachâunde tara,
Hânke sawâr.
Zara na mitthî jhaldî Râjâ
Hun sau manân dâ bhâr.

I, too, was once on the earth thus;
Fastening my turban like a king,
Walking erect.
Coming proudly, taunting proudly,
I drove off the horsemen.
The grave does not hold me at all, Raja:
Now I am a great sinner.

_Chaupur_, p. 256.--_Chaupur_ is a game played by two
players with 8 men each on a board in the shape of a cross, 4 men to
each cross covered with squares. The moves of the men are decided by
the throws of a long form of dice. The object of the game is to see
which of the players can move all his men into the black centre square
of the cross first. A detailed description of the game is given in
_The Legends of the Panjâb_, vol. i. pp. 243, 245.


_The daughters of Raja Sarkap_.--The scene of this and the
following legend is probably meant to be Kot Bithaur on the Indus
near Atak.

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Nîle-ghorewâliâ Râjâ, niven neze âh!
Agge Râjâ Sarkap hai, sir laisî ulâh!
Bhâla châhen jo apnâ, tân pichhe hî mur jâh!
Dûron bîrâ chukiâ ithe pahutâ âh:
Sarkap dâ sir katke tote kassân châr.
Tainûn banâsân wohtrî, main bansân mihrâj!_

Grey-horsed Râjâ, come with lowered lance!
Before thee is Râjâ Sarkap, he will take thy head!
If thou seek thy own good, then turn thee back!
I have come from afar under a vow of victory:
I will cut off Sarkap's head and cut it into four pieces.
I will make thee my little bride, and will become thy bridegroom!

_Hundredweight_--_Man_ in the original, or a little over 80

_Verses_--In original--­

_Ik jo aia Rajpût katdâ mâromâr, Paske lârhân kapiân sittîâ
sîne bhâr. Dharîn dharin bheren bhanîân aur bhane ghariâl! Taîn
nûn, Râjâ, marsî ate sânûn kharsî hâl._

A prince has come and is making havoc;
He cut the long strings and threw us out headlong.
The drums placed are broken and broken are the gongs.
He will kill thee, Raja, and take me with him!

_Verses_--In original--­

_Chhotî nagarî dâ waskîn, Rânî wadî karî pukâr.
Jân main niklân bâhar, tân merî tan nachâve dhâl.
Fajre rotî tân khâsân, sir laisân utâr._

Princess, thou hast brought a great complaint about a dweller in a
small city.
When I come out his shield will dance for fear of my valour.
In the morning I will eat my bread and cut off their heads.


_Dhol Râjâ_--It is not known why the rat was so called. The hero
of a well-known popular love-tale bears the same name. Dhol or Dhaul
(from Sanskrit _dhavala_, white) is in popular story the
_cow_ that supports the earth on its horns.

_Verses_--In original--­

_Sakhî samundar jamiân, Râjâ lîo rud gar thâe: Âo to charho
merî pîth te, kot tudh kharân tarpâe. Urde pankhî main na desân,
jo dauran lakh karor. Je tudh, Râjâ, pârâ khelsiâ, jeb hâth to

O my beloved, I was born in the ocean, and the Râjâ
bought me with much gold.
Come and jump on my back and I will take thee off
with thousands of bounds.
Wings of birds shall not catch me, though they go
thousands of miles.
If thou wouldst gamble, Raja, keep thy hand on thy pocket.

_Verses_--In original--­

_Na ro, Râjiâ bholiâ; nâ main charsân ghâh,
Na main tursân râh.
Dahnâ dast uthâeke jeb de vich pâh!_

Weep not, foolish Râjâ, I shall not eat their grass,
Nor shall I go away.
Take thy right hand and put it in thy pocket!

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Dhal, we pâsâ dhalwin ithe basante lok! Sarân dharân han
bâziân, jehrî Sarkap kare so ho! Dhal, we pâsâ dhalwen, ithe
basanlâ lok! Sarân dharân te bâzian! Jehrî Allah kare so ho!_

O moulded pieces, favour me: a man is here!
Heads and bodies are at stake! as Sarkap does so let it be.
O moulded pieces, favour me: a man is here!
Heads and bodies are at stake! as God does so let it be!

_Verses_.--In original--­

_Hor râje murghâbîân, tu râjâ shâhbâz!
Bandî bânân âe band khalâs kar! umar terî drâz._

Other kings are wild-fowl, thou art a royal hawk!
Unbind the chains of the chain-bound and live for ever!

_Mûrtî Hills_.--Near Râwal Pindî to the south-west.

_Kokilân_.--Means 'a darling': she was unfaithful and most
dreadfully punished by being made to eat her lover's heart.


_The king who was fried_.--The story is told of the hill temple
(_marhî_) on the top of Pindî Point at the Murree (_Marhî_)
Hill Sanitarium. Full details of the surroundings are given in the
_Calcutta Review_, No. cl. p. 270 ff.

_King Karan,_.--This is for Karna, the half-brother of Pându, and
a great hero in the _Mahâbhârata_ legends. Usually he appears in
the very different character of a typical tyrant, like Herod among
Christians, and for the same reason, _viz_. the slaughter of

_Hundredweight_.--A man and a quarter in the original, or about
100 lbs.

_Mânsarobar Lake_.--The Mânasasarovara Lake (=Tsho-Mâphan) in the
Kailâsa Range of the Himâlayas, for ages a centre of Indian fable.
For descriptions see Cunningham's _Ladâk_, pp. 128-136.

_Swan_.--_Hansa_ in the original: a fabulous bird that lives
on pearls only. Swan translates it better than any other word.

_King Bikramâjît_.--The great Vikramâditya of Ujjayinî,
popularly the founder of the present Sarhvat era in B.C. 57. Bikrû is
a legitimately-formed diminutive of the name. Vikrâmaditya figures
constantly in folklore as Bikram, Vikram, and Vichram, and also by a
false analogy as Bik Râm and Vich Râm. He also goes by the name of
Bîr Bikramâjît or Vîr Vikram, i.e. Vikramâditya, the warrior. In
some tales, probably by the error of the translator, he then becomes
two brothers, Vir and Vikram. See Postans' _Cutch_, p. 18 ff.


_Half-a-son_--_Adhiâ_ in the original form; _âdhâ_, a
half. The natives, however, give the tale the title of '_Sat
Bachiân diân Mâwân,_' _i.e_. the Mothers of Seven Sons.


_Broken-down old bed_.--This, with scratching the ground with the
fore-finger, is a recognised form of expressing grief in the Panjâb.
The object is to attract _faqîrs_ to help the sufferer.


_Prince Ruby_.--_La'ljî_, Mr. Ruby, a common name: it can
also mean 'beloved son' or 'cherished son.'

_Snake-stone_.--_Mani_ the fabulous jewel in the
cobra's hood, according to folklore all over India. See _Panjâb
Notes and Queries_, vol. i. for 1883-84.

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