THE
ADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏ
A Romance

Translated from the Persian by
DUNCAN FORBES

REVISED AND EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTION
BY
WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER

Boston, U.S.A., and London
GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
1896

[COPYRIGHT.]

CONTENTS.

[INTRODUCTION.]

[THE ADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏ.]

INTRODUCTION.

This remarkable and fascinating romance, in its English version, was originally published under the auspices of the Oriental Translation Fund sixty-five years ago. Issued in the form of a costly folio, it was buried in great libraries, and scarcely found its way at all to the general public. The publishers of the present edition, becoming acquainted with the rare merits and the intense interest of the work, have resolved to bring it, in a more available shape, to the attention of the large class of refined readers who cannot fail to be both delighted and edified by it.

The preface by the accomplished translator of the work from the Persian dealt much with philological matters which are of no interest save to critical students or linguists. Omitting these portions, re-arranging and condensing the rest, and adding some new matter, the present editor seeks here simply to furnish such an introduction as will enable those who approach the work to occupy the right point of view for an appreciative perusal of it. He has inserted in the text itself, in order not to encumber the pages with footnotes, such changes or explanatory phrases as will remove any obscurities which might perplex the reader.

The story consists of seven connected tales, of the same general character with those of the Arabian Nights Entertainments. In exciting interest, in ethical charm, in imaginative richness of startling adventures, it is not one whit inferior to the very best of those world-renowned masterpieces. It is a magnificent specimen of that ideal freedom of genius which creates its own world, peoples it with its own productions and events, and sympathizes, in vivid interior reproduction, with the romantic experiences of its characters and their destinies. Herein it is a valuable education of the reader in dramatic liberty of mind, fertility of fancy, quickness and strength of emotional action and reaction.

The whole production is also marked by an eminently humane and heroic spirit. The illustrious personage who figures as its hero, and whose thrilling adventures it records, was in his time regarded as an unequalled pattern of bravery, wisdom, and generosity. Hatim ben Ubaid ben Sa’id, chief of the tribe of Taï, lived in the latter half of the sixth century of the Christian era. His native country was Arabia felix, otherwise named Yemen. As the country was then divided into numerous tribes, it is probable that his sway extended only over a few thousand warriors who bore his family name of Taï and owned his chieftaincy. At all events he had in the highest degree all the virtues then most admired. An Arabian author of the twelfth century says of him: “Hatim was brave, liberal, wise, victorious. When he fought, he conquered; when he plundered, he carried off; when he was asked, he gave; when he shot his arrow, he hit the mark; and whomsoever he captured, he liberated.”

It is related of him that when he went a-hunting he never wounded the creatures he pursued with an arrow or any other deadly weapon, but used to catch them in nets and again set them at liberty. He never, it is said, uttered abusive language, but always spoke mildly. He possessed beauty so extreme that all men and women admired him and coveted his companionship. When any one approached him with a complaint and laid hold of the bridle of his horse, he would address the suppliant in consoling terms, examine into his grievances and afford him protection; for tyranny or wrong he countenanced not.

Naturally the chief who drew such encomiums became the favorite theme of poetry and romance. Throughout the East the name of Hatim Taï is synonymous with heroism and liberality. The highest compliment that can be paid to a generous man is to call him the Hatim of the day. Among the many allusions to him by Arabic and Persian authors, the two following anecdotes may here suffice:

The Greek emperor contemporary with Hatim once sent an embassador to Yemen to ask of the chief the gift of a favorite horse. The magnanimous Arab had received no intimation either of the embassy or of its object, and therefore was quite unprepared for the reception of the embassador when he arrived. In order to provide a suitable entertainment for his distinguished guest and his attendants he had no other resource than to order his favorite horse to be killed and roasted for the occasion. This was done. After the feast the embassador stated the wish of his royal master. Hatim replied: “It is too late. The horse has been slain for our repast. When you came I knew not the object of your journey, and had no other food to offer you.” The second anecdote is still more astonishing. It is indeed quite on a par with the transcendental idealism of the goodness of Buddha, who is said actually to have given himself as a meal for a famished tigress. One day Hatim went to the desert, and there suddenly came upon a lion. He said in his heart: “It will be inhuman for me to attack this lion with my weapon; yet if I smite him not he will devour me. Perhaps by the divine favor I may soothe his heart.” In mild tones he said to the lion[1]: “Creature of God, if thou art hungry for my flesh, it is at thy service; devour me and be not sad-hearted.” At these words the lion lowered his head and fell at the feet of Hatim and began to wipe his eyes against them. Hatim said: “Creature of God, far be it from me that thou shouldst depart hungry. Of my own free will I give myself up, and if thou eatest me not it will distress me.” The lion thereupon laid his face in the dust and then departed to his haunt. The story, in its child-like naïveté and sweetness, is closely akin to some of the legends of Saint Francis of Assisi.

In the Kozal-ul-Sufa is the following brief notice of the death of Hatim. “In the eighth year after the birth of the Prophet, died Noushirwan the Just and Hatim Taï the Generous, both famous for their virtues.” In the same work it is further stated that toward the close of the life of Mohammed the host of the Faithful, in propagating the religion of the prophet, ravaged and laid waste the territory of the tribe of Taï. Adi, the son of Hatim, fled to Syria; but his sister and such of his people as were spared were brought as prisoners to Medina. The prophet gave them their choice of embracing the faith or of having their heads cut off. Then the daughter of Hatim stood forth and pleaded the cause of her tribe. On hearing the revered name of Hatim, Mohammed issued a free pardon to the whole tribe of Taï.

According to D’Herbelot, the tomb of Hatim is to be seen at Aovaredh, a small village in Arabia. The spot consecrated by his dust is still visited with the reverence due to the memory of the generous and devoted.

If he who now writes these words in commendation of the fascinating romance herewith presented to the public can judge from his own experience to infer that of others, no fit reader of the Adventures of Hatim Taï will ever forget the pleasure the perusal of them gave him or lose from his soul the inspiring impulse imparted by the transcendent tenderness, docility, heroism, magnanimity, purity and piety that breathe through the moral teachings incarnated in them.

To the thoughtful scholar the highest interest of the whole work lies in the fact that it is an embodiment of the Mohammedan ideal of human excellence. Hatim walks before us as the impersonated model of what man should be according to the standard of Islam. In that ideal the four chief virtues are faith, veracity, kindness and blind submission to the decrees of fate. The Christian ideal puts in place of blind submission to the will of God as fate, an intelligent and loving coöperation of the will of the creature with the will of the Creator as rational freedom. The Islamite hero, in shooting at the mark on which his life depends, confides all to Allah and shuts his eyes as he shoots. The Christian pattern under such circumstances would equally trust in God, but also take careful aim. For he hears God say: “I will guide thee with mine eye, seeing with thine!”

THE ADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏ.

BOOK I.

Containing the history of Husn Bānū, the daughter of Burzakh the merchant—Her expulsion from the King of Khorasan’s capital, and her removal from her country—Her finding in the desert the treasures of seven kings, and her beneficence towards mankind—Her becoming celebrated in the world, and her being beloved by Munir, the Assyrian prince—Hatim hears of the circumstance—His visit to Husn Bānū on account of her seven remarkable sayings, of which he undertakes an explanation.

In the kingdom of Khorasan there lived a monarch named Kurdan Shah, who supported in his train five hundred thousand horsemen and ten thousand couriers, also musketeers and archers. Each of his nobles he entrusted with the care of a province; his justice and equity were such that he made the lion and the lamb drink water from the same fountain; and he never oppressed his subjects. In his reign there lived a merchant, named Burzakh, who possessed much wealth and dignity, and whose agents travelled in all directions in pursuit of commerce. He himself was on intimate terms with the king, and the monarch’s regard for him was extreme. After some time, when his hour arrived, he died, and left no heir except an only daughter, Husn Banu, on whom was settled the whole of her father’s wealth. At this period Husn Banu was twelve years old, and Burzakh on his death-bed left his daughter to the king’s care, who with great kindness said, “She is my own daughter”; and he accordingly made over to Husn Banu all the wealth left by her father.

Shortly after, the daughter, who was possessed of wisdom, and looked on worldly wealth as sand, began to bestow her treasures in charity, and she used to remark, “that we ought not to entangle ourselves amidst the contaminations of the world.” Having sent for her nurse, she consulted her, saying, “My dear mother, it is not my intention to marry; pray tell me by what means I can keep myself secure from the hands of worldly men.” The nurse replied, “I have seven propositions which you shall put to every man who desires to become your husband; whosoever shall answer them properly, and shall agree to the terms which they embrace, him you shall accept. The seven propositions are the following:

“1st. What I saw once, I long for a second time.

“2d. Do good, and cast it upon the waters.[1]

“3d. Do no evil; if you do, such shall you meet with.

“4th. He who speaks the truth is always tranquil.

“5th. Let him bring an account of the mountain of Nida.

“6th. Let him produce a pearl of the size of a duck’s egg.

“7th. Let him bring an account of the bath of Badgard.”

Husn Banu highly approved of these propositions; and one day shortly after, when seated in her balcony, and viewing the surrounding prospect, a dervise attended by forty slaves passed by, and his feet touched not the earth. When Husn Banu saw the pious man, she said to her nurse, “Oh, mother, who is this high personage that travels so magnificently, and whose foot treads not the ground, except it be paved with bricks of gold and silver?” The nurse replied, “Life of thy mother, this dervise is the king’s spiritual guide, and Kurdan Shah every month goes and waits upon this holy man, submits himself to him, and acts according to his advice; in short, he is devout and in communion with the Creator.” Husn Banu said, “My dear nurse, I have a desire to invite him to this house to an entertainment, and shew him every mark of respect”; to which proposal the nurse gave her approbation. She then called one of her attendants, and said to him, “Go to the presence of that illustrious man, and convey to his eminence my desire, stating that a certain lady invites his holiness to an entertainment; if out of condescension becoming the great, and benevolence becoming the pious, he should deign to visit the said humble lady, she will be most happy on the occasion.” When the attendant of Husn Banu waited on the dervise, and stated to him her representation, the pious man consented, and said, “To-morrow I will assuredly come.” The servant brought the intelligence to Husn Banu that the dervise would come next day, at which she was highly delighted, and gave orders to prepare all sorts of viands for the pious man. She also prepared for an offering to him nine suits of silken garments embroidered with gold, and seven trays of pure brilliant gold, along with several baskets full of fruit.

On the following morning the dervise with his forty attendants proceeded to the house of Husn Banu. Now although this dervise was a man in appearance, he possessed the nature of Shaïtan the fiend, and when going on his way he would not deign to tread the earth: for his slaves paved his path with bricks of gold and silver, and on these alone he placed his feet and walked; and in this mode of marching he came to Husn Banu’s house. When the latter was informed that the dervise was arrived, she ordered them to cover the space extending from the outer gate to the interior of the house with carpets embroidered with gold and silver, on which the pious man might walk. After the dervise stepped upon the carpet, he entered the house, and was seated on a throne befitting a king.

Husn Banu in the first place brought for the acceptance of the dervise the trays full of gold and silver, which he accepted not, saying, “These sculptured pieces of worldly dross are of no service to me.” When they saw that the dervise would not accept the money, they then brought him the baskets filled with sweet fruits, and laid them on the table. All the trays and other dishes, and also the dish-covers, were of gold and silver, as were likewise the ewers and goglets; and the whole display was princely. The couches and screens were richly embroidered with gold, and they placed before the dervise food of every kind and variety, and sweetmeats of every description; and they waited upon him for washing his hands, with ewers and goglets of gold. The arrangements of the table being finished the dervise began to eat; but ever and anon his eye wandered to the gold and the various utensils, and he said in his heart: “Gracious heaven! what a wealthy man Burzakh the merchant must have been, who possessed in his house treasures and stores to such an extent that it seems almost the wealth of a crowned head!” He at the same time considered in his heart, “This very night we must come into the house of Burzakh’s daughter and seize this treasure and furniture—we must have recourse to theft.” When the dervise had finished eating, they presented him with perfumes; but he all along had his eyes on the various movables.

After some time, as evening approached, the dervise took leave of Husn Banu. Her waiting men and other servants who had been in attendance on the dervise went to sleep. When about a watch of the night had passed, the dervise with his forty satellites, who were complete thieves, entered the house of Husn Banu, and having killed such of her people as attempted to give the alarm, securely carried off the whole property. Husn Banu with her nurse having ensconced themselves in the lattice, were observing the thieves, and knew them. After the latter had gone and the morning advanced, Husn Banu having taken with her a few of her domestics who had survived from the hands of that treacherous villain, came to the king’s court, and represented her grievance. The king asked, “Who is this, and against whom does she demand justice?” The attendants replied, “Sire, this is the daughter of Burzakh the merchant; she says, if it please the king, she will come to his presence and represent her own case.” The king summoned Husn Banu to his presence; she stated, “Long live the king! Yesterday, as a sacred duty, I gave an entertainment to a dervise, and bestowed on him my food; and this last night he has committed murder in my house. He with his forty attendants privately entered my dwelling and carried off the whole amount of my money and property, and my people lie slain and wounded; thus has the dark-minded dervise acted towards me.” The king on hearing this accusation was enraged and said: “Foolish woman, bringest thou accusations against the most eminent of the age? he covets nothing earthly.” Husn Banu replied, “Oh, upright prince! he deserves not to be called the eminent but rather the fiend of the age.” At this reply the king grew furious, and ordered that both herself and her attendants should be stoned to death, in order that others might take warning, and not utter such calumnies respecting his Majesty’s confessor and counsellor. Here the prime minister stood up and said, “Sire, this is the daughter of Burzakh the merchant, and you have been pleased already to shew her kindness; but now when her father is no more, if you cause the daughter to be thus put to death, then will perish from the hearts of your subjects all confidence in the king’s protection towards their surviving children; and instead thereof, they will be filled with distrust: for this reason, Sire, I have deemed it proper to warn you.” To this the king replied, “Well, for the sake of Burzakh, we shall spare her life; but you shall expel her from the city and confiscate her house; this instant she must be sent without the gates.” The people executed the order, and Husn Banu and her nurse turned their faces to the desert with weeping and lamentation; and the attendants of the hapless lady, reduced to ruin, wandered through the streets of the city. Husn Banu frequently said, “Oh, mother! this dervise has been a grievous curse to us; and yet, oh, God! what crime have we committed that we should be involved in such calamities?” The nurse endeavored to console her, saying, “My child, no remedy can be applied against the revolutions of fortune.”

In a few days they reached the desert, where, underneath a shady tree, exhausted with hunger and thirst, they fell asleep. To Husn Banu a man appeared in a dream, saying, “Be not sorrowful, underneath this tree is buried the treasure of the seven regions, which wealth the king of truth has here kept hidden for thy sake: arise and take possession thereof.” She said, “I am a woman and alone, how can I bring it out of the earth?” To this the man replied, “Do thou dig a little with a spade; let the means be applied by thee, and God will grant success. Moreover, no one is able forcibly to deprive thee of this wealth: arise then and build a city on this spot.”

The lady and her nurse accordingly got up, and with a piece of wood began to dig the earth, when instantly a pit full of yellow gold presented itself. It seemed like seven houses filled with pure gold, and also chests full of jewels of every description. There were likewise four cups full of rubies and costly pearls of the size of ducks’-eggs. Husn Banu rejoiced, and in conformity with the true faith, she stooped to the ground and rendered thousands of thanks to God the Most High. She then handed some of the gold to her nurse, and said, “Mother, do you return to the city and procure us people, and bring us some food to eat and raiment to put on, and at the same time look out for laborers and architects, for on this spot I will build a solid edifice.” The nurse objected, saying, “How can I leave you here alone until some one else arrive?” Whilst they were in this conversation, who should pass by but the foster-brother of Husn Banu, dressed in a mendicant’s habit. He recognized them and fell at the feet of Husn Banu, who weeping from joy lifted him up to her side, and consoled him, saying, “Brother, be of good cheer, God, the great and glorious, has bestowed on us abundance of wealth, even beyond calculation. Take part of it and proceed to the city; bring hither all my dependents and relations, and purchase tents and bring them, for on this spot we shall build lofty edifices, forming a spacious city; but you must not communicate this secret to any one.” The brother having taken part of the gold came to the city; and having assembled Husn Banu’s former dependents, who wandered begging about the streets, he procured elegant tents, and returned with them. Husn Banu, delighted, had the tents erected; and soon after her brother went a second time to the city, and waited on the principal builders, saying, “Send along with me your brother craftsmen; my master intends to build a mansion in the desert: he is a most generous man, and will reward you amply.” The builder to whom he spoke sent one of his brothers, named Muâmmir, along with Husn Banu’s foster-brother, and both returned to where that lady resided. The builder selected a pleasant spot, and there erected a lofty mansion; and Husn Banu bestowed on him a liberal remuneration. The builder, thus enriched, sent for his friends and strenuously labored in the rearing of edifices, the digging of wells, and the building of a palace.

Husn Banu shewed them the greatest kindness, and said, “Now we must have a city built here.” Muâmmir replied, that it was not lawful to build a city without an order from the king; but if his Majesty should grant permission, it would then be an easy matter. Husn Banu admitted the truth of this remark; and having dressed herself in man’s apparel, she mounted an Arab steed, and summoned several of her attendants. She also carried with her for a present, a cup full of rubies and a casket of brilliant jewels, and thus proceeded to the city, where she arrived a few days after. She then made presents to the king’s officers, who speedily conveyed the information to their master, that a certain merchant had arrived from abroad, and that he wished to offer presents to the king; that he now stood at the gate, a man of beautiful countenance and elegant form. The king gave orders to bring him in. Husn Banu accordingly entered, and after performing her obeisance to the king, she presented to him the casket of jewels and the cup full of rubies. When the king beheld the jewels and the cup, he was highly delighted, and said, “Sir, whence art thou?” She replied, “My father was a merchant of Iram, and in the course of events he died at sea. As I happened to be passing this way and had heard of your Majesty’s good qualities, my desire of expressing my attachment and of tendering my humble services became excessive. It is the wish of your slave to pass the remainder of his life in the service of your Highness. When admitted to kiss the threshold of your sublime gates, my prosperity will become permanent and my happiness complete. Now I have no kindred; I am an orphan, and have pitched my tents, in a tract of the desert, where I hope, through your majesty’s kindness and generosity, I may be allowed to build a city.” At this statement the king shewed much sympathy, and presented the stranger with a dress of honor, adding, with the greatest courtesy and affection, “As you have no father, let me be as a father to you, and let me adopt you as my son.” Husn Banu, with profound obeisance, replied, “Since your Majesty has adopted me into the royal family, and has raised from the dust this abject slave, let me state that my name is Behram; may I hope that my name will be deemed fit for this threshold, of which may the head be exalted.” Hereupon Kurdan Shah bestowed on Husn Banu the name of Mahrū Shah[2] and said, “My dear son, the desert is far distant, you must build your city near my capital, and I shall call your city by the name of Shahabad.” Husn Banu respectfully replied, “May the king’s life-time be long. I have taken a fancy to that desert, and besides it would be disrespectful to build any city in the vicinity of your Majesty’s capital. May I hope that an order will be issued to the principal architects enjoining them to make preparations for the building of a city.” Kurdan Shah gave his orders to the architects to that effect, and taking a most affectionate leave of Husn Banu, said, “My dear son, when will you return? you must not deprive me long of your visits.” Husn Banu, making a profound obeisance, said, “I hope that once every month I may kiss the threshold of your Majesty.”

Pleased and happy, Husn Banu returned to the desert, and ordered Muâmmir to draw up the plan of a city. Having sent for more artists to proceed speedily with the building, Muâmmir engaged in the building of the edifices which were to form the city, and promoted the work night and day with all expedition. Husn Banu from month to month made a journey to the city to visit the king, whose kindness and affection towards her were daily increasing. After two or three years a spacious city was built, and its name was called Shahabad; after which, Husn Banu ordered the builders to be munificently rewarded. It happened one day after Husn Banu had arrived to wait upon the king, that his Majesty was proceeding to visit the dervise formerly mentioned, and his eye having caught Husn Banu, he said, “My dear Mahrū Shah, to-day I am going to visit the most eminent man of the age: if you have a desire to do me a favor, pray accompany me; for to have seen this saint of the time is of itself eternal felicity.” In reply, Husn Banu said, “Truly my happiness in this is twofold; first, in being honored with the sight of this eminent personage; and, secondly, in attending your Majesty thither”; but in her heart she said that the sight of such a fiend was an abomination. In short, she accompanied the king to the abode of the dervise, and in conformity with his Majesty’s example, paid her respects to that pious man. Kurdan Shah spoke much in praise and commendation of Mahrū Shah, who in the meanwhile held down her head and listened, thinking in her own mind, “These praises are on account of the jewels and cup which I presented; for otherwise I am the daughter of Burzakh the merchant, and this king once expelled me from his city.”

When the king was about to take leave of the dervise, Husn Banu respectfully stood up and said, “If your holiness will deign to visit my house, I hope it will not be unbecoming the condescension of the illustrious.” The execrable dervise said, “I will assuredly come”; and Husn Banu observed, “The house of your slave is far distant, but in the capital is the residence of Burzakh the merchant, a house which is very commodious, and which I hope you will honor with a visit.” She then addressed the king, saying, “The house of Burzakh happens to be unoccupied; may I be favored for a few days with the use of it, that I may perform my respects to his holiness without his having the trouble of going a distance; and after giving him a feast, I shall proceed to my own city.” The king asked her, “Whence, my son, have you known the name of Burzakh?” Husn Banu replied, “There are many men in this city who were in his service; of them I have learned that such a house was suitable for a few days’ residence.” The king said, “I bestow upon you that house as a present.”

Husn Banu having made her obeisance came to her father’s house; and when she found it fallen to decay she gave vent to many a tear, and issued orders to have it repaired. Meanwhile she herself went to the city, and about a month after she sent to her father’s house the materials for the entertainment, consisting of trays of gold and silver, and vessels also of gold and silver; and having taken a cup full of rubies and jewels likewise she carried them with her. She then sent forward her attendants to the mansion, and went herself before the king, and said, “Now I will go for some days to the house of Burzakh; to-morrow I expect to entertain the renowned dervise with a banquet, and pass some time in attendance upon him.” On this, the king observed, “It is well, such being the choice of my son; but consider this house even as your own.” Husn Banu stood up and spoke: “This befriended slave of your august Highness is truly fortunate, but is unable to express a suitable acknowledgment. All the choice remaining in this slave is in the will of your Majesty, wheresoever you command me there I will stay.” The king added, “Wheresoever you be, let your heart be at ease.”

Husn Banu having taken leave of the king went to her father’s house, and ordered the materials for the banquet to be prepared. She also sent one of her servants to wait upon the dervise, and say that, if his Holiness would deign to visit her next day, it would be the highest favor. When the detestable Azrak heard the word banquet, he replied that he would assuredly come next day. Husn Banu ordered a princely throne, as on the previous occasion, and got ready the entertainment. Next day the abominable dervise came, and Husn Banu presented for his acceptance the jewels and the cup of rubies which she had brought with her; the dervise rejected them all. She at the same time placed all her movables on a side-board, in order that the eye of the dervise might constantly fall upon them, and that his avarice might be increased. The dervise observed them, and said in his heart, “To-night I shall make some contrivance for carrying off all this treasure”; and Husn Banu was at the same time rejoicing in her heart, thinking, “This night I shall have you with all this property tied together and carried before the king.”

In short, they brought the banquet before him, and presented him with water to wash his hands[3], and offered him food of every description; and the dervise along with his forty attendants began to eat. After having taken a few mouthfuls, he commanded that they should desist. Husn Banu made many apologies, and said, “Do me the kindness to eat, for your so doing will be happiness to your slave.” The dervise answered, saying, “To the pious a few mouthfuls are sufficient; to please you I have eaten heartily, but my usual food consists of a few grains of wheat.” When they had ceased from eating, they were presented with perfumes; but the dervise was saying in his heart, “The whole of this property is mine.” After some time the villainous Azrak took leave of Mahrū Shah and came to his own house, and deliberated with his attendant dervises one with another, saying, “I have made a vow, and consecrated it, and all the food you have eaten is to you as well as myself an accursed thing, till you bring away the jewels, the gold, and the silver.” All the attendants said, “It is well”; and when the night set in, the whole of them with their chief were in readiness for the theft.

Husn Banu also consulted her own people; and ordered them to leave the whole property in the same way as at the banquet, and open all the doors. She also wrote an explanatory letter to the captain of the night-watch, concluding, “We shall be on our guard here; do you also come and place yourselves in ambush, and the instant that my people raise a shout, present yourselves with the utmost speed.” She then charged her own people, saying, “When the thieves come, you are not to move till they, after having seized the property, are on their return; then you shall bind them all fast with the goods in their possession; and give the signal to the captain, that he may come and seize them.” Husn Banu’s men, agreeably to what their mistress had commanded, stationed themselves as quietly as if they were dead. Meanwhile, Azrak with his forty pious satellites arrived and entered the residence of Mahrū Shah, and all the property in money or effects which was found they tied up in bundles, and were carrying them off; Azrak himself having taken in his hands the cup full of rubies, was returning with them. At that instant Husn Banu’s people and those belonging to the captain rushed from their hiding-places, and bound the thieves with their hands behind their backs, whose hearts were like to burst from spite. The thieves were then consigned to the charge of the night-watch, each having the bundle which he carried fastened to his neck. Strict orders were issued to secure them fast till morning, when the affair should be decided before the king.

When Husn Banu saw that the enemy were overpowered and taken captives, she called her servants and rewarded them munificently, and then said, “So much of the night still remains, that you may pass the time in repose.” Next morning, when the king opened the public court, and was seated on the throne of royalty, he observed, “This last night there was a great uproar; does any one know the cause of it?” During this, the captain entered, and gave his report, saying, “About the time of midnight a gang of thieves entered the residence of Mahrū Shah, the house that belonged to Burzakh the merchant; they had seized all the property that Mahrū Shah had taken thither with him, and were on their return when information was given to me. I hurried to the spot, and having secured the thieves with the property, I have now brought them before the public court; and of the truth of this, Sire, we are certain for we have witnessed the fact.” When they were thus discoursing, Mahrū Shah entered and made his obeisance. The king having caused him to be seated, said, “My son, pray did the thieves last night break into your house?” Husn Banu said, in reply, “Long live your Majesty: the captain of the city arrived with assistance in time; and now it will be best to summon the thieves into your royal presence.” The king ordered them to be brought. The captain led them before the king in a row, at the head of which was Azrak with the cup of rubies suspended to his neck, and after him the other dervises, each having the bundle which he had stolen fastened to his neck, and his hands tied behind him.

The instant the king saw them he remarked, that, “This man at their head greatly resembles a certain dervise.” Husn Banu said, “Please your Majesty, let them be called nearer, and closely inspected; it is impossible that he should be the pious dervise.” The king made a signal to the captain, who made the thieves one by one with his bundle pass before his Majesty. The captain having thus sent them by turns, Husn Banu rose up, and seizing the hand of the dervise with the cup of rubies, led him before the king. His Majesty asked, “What is this fastened to the neck of Azrak?” Husn Banu displayed the cup of rubies to the king’s sight. The king was lost in amazement, and at last said, “Let every one of them be executed on the scaffold, in order that the rest of the priesthood may be deterred from such villainy, and that they may not mislead the people; and let them also be stripped naked.” When the thieves were stripped of their clothes, all their implements for thieving were discovered. The king issued an order, stating, “Let them be speedily executed on the gibbet, and let whatever property belongs to Mahrū Shah be returned to his own possession.”

When Husn Banu saw that they were conveying Azrak to execution, she arose from her seat and stood with hands joined before the king. His Majesty said, “What is your request?” Husn Banu replied, “Oh, my Lord, I am the hereditary child of your court, nay, I am your Majesty’s adopted daughter, the child of Burzakh the merchant. I am she whom your Majesty on account of this very dervise sentenced to banishment from your capital. The property that belonged to my father is still in the residence of the dervise; his house must, therefore, be searched, that the whole of his villainy may be discovered, and that the veracity of your daughter’s declaration may be confirmed before your Majesty.” The king, on hearing these words, was greatly surprised, and gave orders for searching the house of Azrak. He then addressed Husn Banu, saying, “I lately called thee my child, there my tongue uttered and my mind conceived what was true. Thou art no longer Burzakh’s daughter, thou art my own daughter.”—“May I hope then,” said Husn Banu, “that your Highness will condescend to visit the house of your daughter in the desert; there I have immense wealth, which I will freely bestow on him who is both my king and my father.” To this invitation his Majesty agreed; and in the meantime all the property left by Burzakh was discovered in the house of Azrak, and Husn Banu having presented the same to the king, returned to Shahabad, and ordered the streets of the city to be adorned on each side with elegant mirrors preparatory to his Majesty’s visit. Two days after, Kurdan Shah arrived at Shahabad, where Husn Banu received him with due honors, and conducted him to her own palace. She then presented his Majesty with another cup full of rubies and a golden tray filled with costly jewels, after which she pointed out the seven pits containing the gold.

His Majesty was delighted, and Husn Banu requested him to issue orders to his attendants for conveying the gold by loads to the royal treasury. The king gave orders to that effect to his prime minister, who along with the accountants proceeded to the mouth of the pit. Whenever they attempted to take up the gold in order to convey it away, the whole of it was turned into the forms of serpents and dragons. The attendants were terrified, and sent notice of the circumstance to the king. His Majesty on hearing this was astonished, and Husn Banu’s countenance turned pale whilst she dreaded what proceedings he might adopt. The king observed her anxiety, and said, “My child, why has thy countenance turned pale? Let nothing disturb thy mind, but be of good cheer, for this gold is destined for thee, and over it I have no power. Whatsoever thou pleasest do with it, take it into thy own possession and use it.” Husn Banu, making her obeisance, addressed the king with the following request: “Sire, it is my wish to make this city my home, and to spend this treasure in the service of God, and also that no one may molest my retirement.” Kurdan Shah in courteous phrase replied, “Wheresoever thou dwellest thou art my child, and hast the command of this treasure in thy own hand; do, therefore, as thou thinkest fit.”

Kurdan Shah then sent back his people to guard his palace, and he himself, after residing seven days at the house of Husn Banu, returned to the capital. After that, Husn Banu fitted up another house for entertaining travellers, and bounteously furnished every individual with food and drink suitable to his rank, and presented him at his departure with money for his journey, and such other articles as might be deemed useful, shewing her guests every attention. In a short time the name of Husn Banu, was celebrated by the travellers through every city and town to this effect: “There is a young lady not yet married, by name Husn Banu, who is extremely bounteous towards her fellow-creatures. Her servants and attendants are so endowed with integrity that they will not defraud the stranger of a single farthing. Gracious heaven! what an age is this, when menials are so conscientious! What wonderful liberality, whereby they freely bestow golden coins upon the poor! In the present times, people of the world in general feel reluctant for every farthing they give to the poor, and menials without scruple pilfer men’s property; but such as these have neither the fear of God nor regard for the Prophet.” In short, Husn Banu’s fame shone clearer than the sun throughout the quarters of the earth as far as the confines of the world.

The History of Shahzada Munir.

Historians have informed us that there was a certain king of Kharzim who had a son accomplished in mind; and that, through the medium of several men of intelligence, the fame of Husn Banu came to the hearing of this prince. In the heart of this youth was formed an eager desire to see Husn Banu; he therefore sent his own painter with the view of having a sight of Husn Banu, so as to have a portrait of her drawn and brought to him. The painter departed, and after several days arrived in Shahabad, where Husn Banu’s people, according to their custom, attended and presented him with food, shewing him every attention. After some stay, when about to take leave, they conveyed him to Husn Banu’s presence; she kindly inquired into his circumstances, and offered him money for his journey. The painter said, “My wish is to serve under your government, and spend the remainder of my life on your threshold.” Husn Banu asked, “What is your profession?”—“I am,” said he, “a painter, who can delineate the moon from behind a curtain.”[4] Husn Banu then said, “Well, you may delay your departure for a little.” Some short time after she began to consider in her mind, “How can I get a portrait of myself, for the painter is a stranger. However, what will be the harm of his delineating my features from behind a curtain?” The painter said, “Most bountiful lady, do you stand on the roof of the house[5], and cause a vessel full of water to be placed below, then look down into that vessel.” Husn Banu did so, and the painter seeing her form in the water, drew the picture and went with it to his own house, where he delineated every line and mole[6] that existed on the original. He at the same time made two copies of the portrait, one of which he presented to Husn Banu, and the other he kept for himself. Shortly after, he requested leave of Husn Banu to return for his family, if agreeable to her; on which she furnished him with money for the journey, and granted him permission.

The painter then conveyed the portrait of Husn Banu to his own prince, who, the instant he saw the picture, became quite frantic. When he returned to his senses, he determined in his own mind to set off without his father’s leave; and without money or necessaries for the journey, without informing any one of his design, and taking no one with him, he put his trust in God, and at the dead of night departed for Shahabad, where in due time he arrived, after encountering the fatigues of the road. Husn Banu’s people brought him food, as was their wont with regard to others, and shewed him all possible attention. Next morning they offered the prince coins of yellow gold, saying, “Accept this for expenditure on your way.” The prince replied, “To me gold is of no use.” Husn Banu’s people observed, “You seem penniless, pray accept this gold, for our lady bestows it in the service of God.” As he persisted in saying that it had no value for him, they informed Husn Banu, that “a traveller arrived yesterday, who will neither eat food sufficient for him, nor accept gold.” Husn Banu having summoned him to her presence, said, “Well, stranger, why do you refuse gold? Gold is a thing which in times of difficulty people find useful; it converts the pale countenance to red.” The prince replied, “When I came hither, I left much treasure and gold behind me. I am Prince of Kharzim; thy portrait has driven me mad, and my ardent desire to see thy face has sent me hither.” Husn Banu held down her head, and after some time said, “Young man, abandon such vain ideas; if you were the zephyr itself, you should not have wafted your breath over my ringlets.” The prince to this replied, “At least I will sacrifice my miserable life at thy gates.”—“To give away your life,” said Husn Banu, “is easy, but to see my face is impossible: however, if this idea has found a place in your heart, then you must submit to my injunctions.” The prince said, “Command me, and I shall from my soul consider it as a favor.” Husn Banu said, “The first thing I have to propose is this saying, ‘What I once saw, I long for a second time’; and you must travel till you find an explanation of it. Inform me where the man is that utters these words, and also what he has seen. After you have brought me a solution of this first enigma, I shall tell you the second.” The prince asked where that man dwelt; to which Husn Banu replied, “If I myself knew that, I should have sent my own people for the investigation of the circumstance.” The prince held down his head for some time, and then said, “I am ignorant in what direction I ought to go.”—“Then,” replied Husn Banu, “banish from your thought the idea of seeing my face.” Here the prince observed, “Thus bewildered, whither can I go? I have at least one resource left, and that is to die in thy city.”—“In my city,” said Husn Banu, “there is no room for such as speak thus foolishly; my people would not suffer your remaining.” Hereupon the prince said, “I suppose I must direct my steps towards the desert, in order to find the way and explore the intricacies leading to the abode of that man who exclaims in the words above-mentioned. If my stars prove friendly it is well, and if otherwise, I will sacrifice my life for thee.” Husn Banu then stated, “It will be requisite to enter into an agreement as to the length of time for which I am to expect your return.” To this the prince said, “For the space of a year.”

Husn Banu then ordered them to present him with food to eat and water to wash his hands; and having furnished him with necessaries for his journey, she requested to know his name. The prince replied, that his name was Munīr Shamī[7]; and then taking leave of Husn Banu, like one deprived of sight and hearing, he shaped his course to the wilderness, and with tears in his eyes began to traverse the mountains and the deserts. In short, the prince wandered towards the borders of Yemen, and sitting down underneath a tree in the desert, he gave vent to his tears copiously as the showers of early spring. It happened that Hatim Taï was passing that way on a hunting excursion, and came close by the prince Munīr. Hatim seeing a handsome youth with elegant apparel thus weeping, his heart melted on his account, and his eyes were filled with tears, as he said, “What calamity can have befallen this stranger? I must go and inquire.” He went up to the prince, and in condoling language asked him, “Oh, brother! what distress has happened, what accident has occurred, that thou weepest so?” The prince raised his head, and was surprised at seeing a youth of pleasant countenance, and of air and gait noble as the sun, the flowers in the rosebud of his cheeks fully blown, clothed in elegant apparel, and having his person accoutred with armor, standing by him and interesting himself in his condition. He replied then, “Oh, youth of benignant countenance, to me what avails the mentioning of my sorrows, which can be alleviated neither by my telling nor by your hearing?” Hatim said to him, “Let your mind be at ease; communicate to me the secrets of your heart, and whatsoever lies in my power, as my trust is in God, I will not fail to perform. I will supply you with money if it be of use to you; and my frail life is constantly devoted to the service of the Almighty, which consists in relieving the distress of my fellow-creatures.” The prince Munīr, in rapture, exclaimed, “Oh, brother! may God preserve your life,” and instantly taking out Husn Banu’s portrait, which he kept in his bosom, he handed it to Hatim, and said, “Judge yourself what must be my condition.” Hatim looked at the portrait and remained for some time in a state of abstraction; at length, he said, “With regard to those questions which she proposes, if you can suggest to me any plan, I will use every exertion in its accomplishment.”

In short, Hatim carried the prince along with him into Yemen, and there hospitably entertained him. After they had rested three days, he asked the prince whether he had any method to point out by which he could serve him. The prince replied, “Alas! I can propose nothing; to you I resign the affair and its accomplishment, and will remain grateful for your kindness while I have the breath of life.” Hatim called his domestics and strictly charged them, saying, “You shall continue to supply travellers with food, and the poor with money, the same as if I myself were present; so that it may not be known that I have gone anywhere from home, and let each of you be diligently occupied in his own department.” Having issued these orders, he took the prince by the hand, and set out from the capital of Yemen on the road that leads to Shahabad, where, in the course of time, after encountering the toils of the journey, they both arrived.

Husn Banu’s people conveyed them to the caravanseraï, presented them with food, and offered them gold. Hatim rejected both, saying, “Worthy people, I have not come hither for food or gold; I will neither taste of the one nor accept of the other.” Of this the people informed Husn Banu, who having summoned them both to her presence, said to them, “Why do you refuse gold, a thing which will one day be of service to you? The wise have remarked, ‘A thing laid by, will be found useful, though it be even the head of a serpent.’”[8] Hatim observing that the amassing of gold was proper only for the purpose of distributing it, stated, “Lady, the fame of your beauty and perfections has reached my ears; now if you will agree to one request of mine, I will accept of your gold and eat of your food, but otherwise I will depart hungry and thirsty from your city.” Husn Banu asked him, “Stranger, what is the request with which you wish me to comply?” Hatim answered, saying, “For one instant unveil your face, and afterwards I shall do whatsoever you command.” Husn Banu said, “Till once you have brought a solution to my seven questions, it will be impossible for you to see me unveiled.” Hatim asked what the seven questions were; and without waiting the reply, added, “You must promise me further that, if I should answer them, you shall become mine, and that on whomsoever I may bestow you, you shall not dispute my commands.” Husn Banu assented, saying, “When I shall have become yours, you shall do with me what you think proper; you can either bestow me on any other person, or cause me to remain in your own house.” Hatim then observed, that it would be requisite to call some witnesses, in whose presence this agreement might be ratified. This was accordingly done, and Hatim had the agreement confirmed before several people. After this, food was presented, of which they partook, and Hatim addressing Husn Banu, said, “This prince is my brother, who is to remain in your city till my return, and to him I expect that you will pay some attention.” To this Husn Banu assented, and Hatim then requested to know her first question. “My first question,” replied Husn Banu, “is this: There is a certain man who exclaims, ‘What I once saw, I long for a second time.’ Where is that man? what has he seen? and why does he long for the same a second time? When you have brought me all this information, I shall then tell you my second question.” Hatim having heard this, took leave of Husn Banu, and having conducted the prince Munīr to the house appointed for guests, he set out on his perilous journey.

Hatim began to consider in his mind, “Now, where am I to go, of whom can I ask my way, and what plan ought I to adopt?” But, on further reflection, he said to himself, “I have, by the aid of God, devoted my whole exertions to the service of my fellow-creatures, without any selfish consideration: assuredly, then, my Creator will conduct me to the proper place.” With this reflection, he fixed his reliance on God, and proceeded towards the wilderness. After a few days he arrived in a desert where not a bird was seen to flap its wing. Two or three days thence he was startled at seeing a wolf in pursuit of a milch doe, and so near that he was on the point of seizing her. Hatim shouted aloud to the wolf, “Ravenous animal, desist, she has a young one, and the milk flows from her breast.” The wolf stood still, and said, “Undoubtedly you are Hatim, as your heart is endowed with such compassion.” He asked, “How do you know that I am Hatim?” The wolf replied, “There is none but Hatim who evinces compassion and kindness to this extent towards his fellow-creatures, rational and irrational; and the name of Hatim is renowned in every quarter. But as you have this day withheld me from my prey, let me now have something to eat.”—“What do you eat?” said Hatim. The wolf answered, “Flesh is my food.” Hatim said to him, “If the small quantity of flesh which is on my body be agreeable to you, say the word, and I will give it you.”—“Nothing can be better,” replied the wolf, “than the flesh on your thigh.” Hatim then unsheathed his knife, and having cut away the flesh from his own thigh, he threw it to the wolf. The latter ate, and was satisfied, and said, “Oh, Hatim! why have you left your own capital of Yemen, and for what reason do you wander in this desert?” Hatim told the wolf, that the prince Munīr Shamī had fallen in love with Husn Banu; that she had seven questions for proposing, and that she was to accept only that man who could answer them; “and I,” said Hatim, “have undertaken, through the aid of Providence, to accomplish this task. The first question is this: ‘Where is the man who exclaims, What I once saw, I long for a second time?’ In order to be informed of this I sallied forth, recommending myself to God; but not knowing where that man is, I have directed my course to the desert, and thus far I have advanced.” The wolf here replied, “I do not know myself the place where that man is, but I have heard from the report of others that his abode is in the desert of Hăwaïda, and that whosoever goes thither will see him.” Hatim asked the wolf whether he knew where the desert of Hăwaïda lay; to which he answered, “As you go forward from hence, the road branches into two; avoid the path to the left, and proceed on that to the right hand, and it will lead you to the desert of Hăwaïda.”

Meanwhile the doe, having testified her gratitude to Hatim, departed; and the wolf likewise took his leave. Each of these animals looked back to see whether Hatim followed them; but the pain arising from his wound was so intense that he could not proceed, and he fell down at the side of a tree. It happened that underneath that tree a pair of jackals had formed their haunt, and were at that moment absent in search of food. When the two jackals, who were a male and a female, returned, they observed Hatim asleep, and the following dialogue ensued between them: “Here is one of the human race; how has he been brought hither? We must quit this place, for he can have no sympathy towards creatures of a different species.” M. “It is probable that this is Hatim on his way to explore the desert of Hăwaïda; and he has sunk down exhausted from the pain in his thigh.”—F. “How do you know that this is Hatim?”—M. “I have been informed by the learned that on a certain day Hatim should arrive at this tree.”—F. “What sort of a personage is Hatim?”—M. “He is Prince of Yemen, and one of God’s elect, and many a trial awaits him; we must not leave him distressed in heart.”—F. “How has he fallen into this state?”—M. “A wolf was about to seize a milch doe, and Hatim cut the flesh from his own thigh, and gave it to the wolf in lieu of the doe, which he thus preserved by involving himself in calamity.”—F. “Among the human race, are there really some who are thus endowed with humanity? Heaven knows, there is little compassion in mankind!”—M. “The human race are the noblest of God’s creatures; and Hatim in particular is extremely generous, endowed with humanity, and of high honor; he is also one who feareth and adoreth the Creator, for whose sake he tore off his own flesh and gave it to the wolf.”—F. “Thus wounded in the thigh, how can he live? or when can he reach the desert of Hăwaïda?”—M. “If the brains of the fowl called the Părīrū[9] could be applied to his wound, a complete cure would take place in the space of an hour; but this remedy it is almost impossible to procure from the place where it is.”—F. “Where is it to be found?”—M. “In the desert of Mazanderan; it is a fowl like a peacock, with a head like that of the human race. He allures all those who attempt to seize him, by giving them sherbet to drink, by the gracefulness of his movements and the sweetness of his looks.”—F. “Who is it then that can bring this remedy, and by the grace of God restore Hatim to health?”—M. “If you will attend to this youth for the space of seven days, I will go and bring the head of that fowl.”—F. “Nothing can be better, for it will be an instance of humanity from the part of the brute creation towards the human race. Until you return, while life remains in my body, I will not suffer a living creature to come near this youth.”

Hatim listened to the conversation of the jackals, but he was so exhausted that he had not strength to raise up. Meanwhile the male jackal, leaving the female, set out for Mazanderan; and on his arrival there, he saw the animal he was in quest of, sleeping underneath a tree. He approached it, and seizing its head in his mouth, he gave it such a pull that he severed it from the body, and returning with it he arrived agreeably to his promise. The female during his absence had rested neither night nor day, nor did she suffer any living creature to approach the tree. Hatim was conscious of all this, how the jackal having procured the head of the Părīrū, had now placed it before his female companion. The female jackal then with her mouth forced open the head, and having extracted the brain, applied it to Hatim’s wound. The instant it was applied, Hatim’s pain was removed; he rose up, and looking at the jackals, said, “You, though of the brute creation, have acted most humanely towards me; but you have without cause deprived another animal of life: in this you have not done well.” The male jackal said, “For that crime let me be answerable; and do you rest at ease. What, though I am of the brute creation, still I acknowledge a merciful God.” About an hour passed in such discourse, after which the flesh closed on Hatim’s wound, and he experienced a complete cure. He then addressed the jackals, saying, “You have acted most beneficently towards me; command me then in any way I can do you a favor, and whatever service you will require of me I will with all my heart and soul accomplish.” The jackals replied, “In this neighborhood there live a couple of ravenous hyenas, that every year devour our young ones, our strength being of no avail against them. If it is in your power, remove from us their depredations, and it will be doing us the highest favor.”

Hatim requested the jackal to shew him the haunt of the hyenas; which being done, he set out, but found that the place was empty. He there sat down till it was night, when both hyenas male and female arrived, and were surprised at seeing a man stationed in their abode. Growling, they said to him in their own language, “Oh, son of man! this is our dwelling place, not yours; how came you to sit here? Arise, and go your way, otherwise we shall tear you to pieces in this very spot.” Hatim replied, “Creatures of the Almighty, your own lives are dear to you, so ought you to consider the lives of others; and if you delight in destroying life, tremble for your own. On what account do you devour the young of the helpless jackals? Truly you have not the fear of God, and you have need to repent.” They said to him, “How come you to feel sympathy for the jackals? why do you not look after your own affairs?” Hatim replied, “I beseech you, by that God who hath created you and the whole universe, to abstain from eating their flesh; God is bountiful, and he will assuredly send you sustenance.” The hyenas, in answer to this, said, “We never will spare them.”

When Hatim found them thus callous and unmerciful, and disinclined to act honestly, he instantly sprung forward and suspended himself to the necks of the hyenas, by which means he threw them down, and fettered them. He then considered with himself, “If I kill them it will be contrary to my nature; for hitherto I have not inflicted pain on any living creature.” But on farther reflection it came into his mind, that it was highly proper to chastise ferocious animals. He therefore drew forth his knife, and having broken the teeth and cut off the claws of the hyenas he left them, and devoutly prayed to God to relieve the pain of the animals. The hearer of prayers attended to Hatim’s request, and removed the pain from the hyenas. Hatim then untied the fetters and set the animals at liberty; they fell at his feet, saying, “How can we henceforth obtain sustenance?” He replied, “God is bountiful.” Meanwhile the jackals presented themselves, and said, “Henceforth let the maintenance of the hyenas be left to our care, and while we live we shall provide for them.”

Hatim took leave of the jackals and proceeded on his way through the desert. After he had gone, the female jackal said to the male, “It would be very unkind that Hatim should wander alone to the desert of Hawaida, and you not to shew him the way.” Here the male jackal running, made up to him, and said, “Oh, Hatim! let me accompany you to Hawaida.” Hatim answered, “Already you have done me one kind deed, which I have not yet requited; why then do you lay me under further obligations?” To this the jackal said, “Servant of the Almighty, why should I allow you to wander astray from the country?” Hatim replied, “I will by no means take you away in my company; and if you have a desire to set me on the right way, it is quite sufficient that you shew me the proper path.” The jackal then said, “Oh, youth! there is one way which is near, but it has dangers innumerable; and there is another which is circuitous, and extremely rough; for this reason allow me to go with you.” In reply to this, Hatim said, “Do you shew me the nearest way, and God will render it smooth for me.” The jackal then directed him, saying, “Go straight forward to a place where the road divides into four branches, and then select that which leads right on: it is the shortest way, and if you can go safe it will take you to the desert of Hawaida.” Hatim bade adieu to the jackal and advanced; and after one month he arrived at the four divisions of the road, and keeping the direct path, advanced in the direction of the desert.

After he had gone part of the way, several bears presented themselves to his sight; for there the king of the bears with a thousand of these uncouth animals held his court, and it happened on that particular day that they were out on an excursion. When Hatim was seen by the bears, they instantly sent intelligence to their king that they had that day beheld one of the human race. His Majesty commanded them to seize the man and bring him thither; and the bears having caught Hatim, carried him with them. When the king of the bears minutely observed Hatim, he gave orders that he should be taken care of, and conveyed to their abode, to which they all returned. After this, when Hatim was brought before the king, his Majesty said, “Descendant of Adam, be seated, and tell us whence you came, and what is your name; but that is unnecessary, for you are Hatim.” Hatim answered, “Yes, I am; and I have come hither in the service of my Creator.” His Majesty then said to him, “Truly you are most welcome, and I will give you my daughter in marriage, for as yet I have met with none so proper for a son-in-law that I could bestow her on him, as it would be unbecoming to espouse her to any of my subjects or servants.” On hearing this tempting proposal, Hatim held down his head. The king of the bears asked him, “What is the cause of your holding down your head? have you nothing to say in reply? am I forsooth unworthy of being your father-in-law?” Hatim at last said, “You are of the brute creation, I of the human race, what conformity is there between us?” The bear said, “Oh, Hatim! rest you content on that score, and let nothing disturb your mind, for my daughter is of your own species.”

His Majesty then ordered his daughter to be arrayed and presented, and said to Hatim, “Go and look at her for one instant.” Hatim rose up, and beheld a female in human shape, and beautiful as the moon in her fourteenth night. He was wrapt in wonder, and having returned to his Majesty, he said, “You are a king and I am a beggar; it would be disrespectful in me to presume to espouse your daughter.” The bear replied, “You shall accept of her, notwithstanding every objection which you can contrive. Pray are you not Prince of Yemen?” Hatim began to reflect, “What a scrape I have fallen into! I have come forth on a particular service; how then can I remain captive here?” The bear observed his thoughtfulness a second time, and said, “Oh, Hatim! if you accept not my daughter, I shall send you into a place of confinement, where you shall remain fast till the day of judgment.” Here Hatim attempted a reply, but the bear became angry, and ordered them to confine Hatim in a certain dungeon, and keep strict watch over him. Instantly the bears carried Hatim to the dungeon, and having removed a large stone of extreme hardness they made him fast, and replaced the stone as before on the mouth of the dungeon. In this hole, Hatim, hungry, thirsty, and bewildered, was left for the space of two weeks, at the expiration of which the king sent for him, and having made him sit beside him, said, “Oh, Hatim! will you now espouse my daughter?” Hatim still remained silent, and the king ordered fruits to be brought and presented to him. Hatim being hungry, ate of the fruit and quenched his thirst with pure water, after which the bear again insisted on his marrying his daughter. To this, Hatim at last replied, that there could be no relationship between mankind and other animals; on hearing which, the king of the bears ordered him to be again shut up in the dungeon.

After some days, Hatim, exhausted with hunger and thirst, fell into a slumber, and in a dream he saw an aged man, who thus addressed him: “Oh, Hatim! why art thou thus dilatory in the service which thou hast taken in hand; and why dost thou not comply with the bear’s request?” He answered, “If I accept his daughter, they will never permit me to leave them for the accomplishment of my task.” The aged man again replied, “On that alone your liberation depends, for otherwise you must soon perish in this dungeon; therefore accept as your wife the bear’s daughter, and for this compliance on your part, she will effectually assist in setting you at liberty.” Here Hatim awaked from his dream, and in about two weeks after he was again brought before the king of the bears. His Majesty seated Hatim beside him, and repeated his former proposal, which being agreed to, he took Hatim by the hand and placed him on his own throne, and issued orders for his grandees to be in attendance. Agreements were then entered into, according to the usages of that race, after which the bear conveyed Hatim to the apartment of his daughter. There, to his surprise, he found the halls decorated with the most splendid couches such as belong to royalty; and on a splendid throne was seated his bride arrayed in gold and all sorts of jewels. For a short time he stood bewildered, when the king took the hand of his daughter and resigned her to Hatim agreeably to established custom. Every day the king sent a variety of the most delicious fruits to Hatim, till at length the latter observed, that to live entirely on fruit did not agree with him, and that he would prefer more substantial food. On hearing this, the king ordered his emissaries to collect from places inhabited by men all sorts of flour, sugar, milk, and butter, also vessels of porcelain. The order was no sooner expressed than executed, and thus Hatim was enabled to fare sumptuously twice a day on food the most delicious, which he himself dressed.

In this manner six months elapsed, when one day Hatim, addressing the bear’s daughter, said, “I have left home on a special service, and your father has forcibly detained me here; if you will permit my absence for some time, and make your father assent to this measure, when I have accomplished my undertaking I will return and live with you.” The bear’s daughter instantly went to her father, and acquainted him with Hatim’s request; to which the king replied, “Daughter, he is your husband; if you are yourself satisfied you have my consent.” The daughter observed, “Hatim appears to be a man of sincerity; he will assuredly return according to his promise.” In short, the king gave his permission, and ordered some of his subjects to conduct Hatim beyond the boundaries of his dominions. Hatim having taken leave of his wife, departed, and after some time arrived at a sandy desert which contained not a single human dwelling. Hatim placed his reliance upon God and proceeded; meanwhile a mysterious man with tattered garment presented him every evening with a loaf of bread and a jug full of water. Of these, after offering his thanks to the Creator, he partook, and thus continued to advance. Suddenly he espied before him a dragon, the head of which was reared up to the height of a mountain. At first sight he was dreadfully alarmed, but gradually began to suppose that it must be a mass of sand. When he drew nearer, the dragon observing him, inhaled his breath, and Hatim was irresistibly drawn from the earth notwithstanding his utmost efforts to keep himself firm, and in an instant he was swallowed alive by the monster.

When Hatim found himself inside of the dragon, he remembered his Creator, and with pious resignation to his will, said, “This I have merited, polluted as I am with sins; it has been my wish to become one of the servants of God, but ah, helpless me! what avail my frail efforts?” Thus Hatim constantly kept in mind the beneficence of the Almighty: for whosoever puts his trust in God, and sincerely devotes his life and fortune to the accomplishing of what is acceptable unto the Almighty, him the Creator will never forsake when in calamity. Sometimes he trieth his servants even as he tried Job the prophet of Iram, who bore his sufferings with patience and resignation. In like manner it behoveth the true servants of the Almighty that in every calamity they remain patient and resigned.

For three days and nights Hatim thus continued in the loathsome abdomen of the dragon, where he would have speedily died were it not for a talismanic pearl which his wife, the bear’s daughter, had fixed in his turban previous to his departure. This pearl had a charm in it by which its possessor became secured against the bad effects of fire and poison, and hence the venom of the dragon had no effect on Hatim. In truth the bounteous Creator had in time provided him with an antidote, as it was his will that Hatim should live. Meanwhile the dragon, heartily wishing to be rid of Hatim, said to himself, “What troublesome stuff have I swallowed here? I can never digest it, for it still lives and moves about within me.” It may be conceived that Hatim found little rest within the dragon’s abdomen; and he was constantly endeavoring to stand up and walk about, the trampling of his feet upon the stomach of the monster so annoyed the latter that he coiled and reared in all directions.

At length, when he found that his food was really destructive and caused him such pain, he bore it no longer, and making a strong effort he vomited, and Hatim was once more thrown into the open air, where the dragon left him and fled into the wilderness. Hatim remained on the spot for some time till his clothes were dried by the sun, and then proceeded on his way till, after traversing the sandy desert, he arrived exhausted with hunger and thirst on the banks of a river. Here he began to wash both himself and his clothes, when he observed a large fish playing near him. Hatim was congratulating himself on this providential supply of food, when the fish, of which the half was a human form of extreme beauty, being in fact the mermaid, approached, and seizing him by the hand, instantly drew him into the river. Hatim struggled hard to keep his ground, but his strength was of no avail; the fish hurried him through the deep, and thus conveyed him into her place of residence. Here he found himself in a splendid apartment seated on a superb couch, and the mermaid endeavoring by every sort of contrivance to reconcile him to his captivity.

For seven nights and days Hatim remained the dejected captive of this monster of the deep. At last becoming desperate, he said, “I have travelled thus far on business the most urgent, leaving my home and kindred; why then dost thou urge me to become an inmate of this thy abode? My sadness will never allow me to be an agreeable companion; I pray thee then to conduct me to that place whence I have been forcibly dragged.” To this the mermaid replied, “Oh, Hatim! stay with me three days longer, and I will consent to thy release.” When the three days had elapsed, Hatim reminded the mermaid of her promise, to which she replied, “Everything which tends to thy welfare shall be accomplished, yet remain a few days more.” Hatim said, “Remember thy promise, for to stay a moment longer is to me impossible.” The mermaid finding Hatim resolute, at last took him by the hand, and in an instant conveyed him to the spot from which she had taken him, and as a last effort said, “Oh, Hatim! is it really your intention to part with me?”—“My duty,” said Hatim, “is urgent, and nothing shall make me shrink from it.” When Hatim gave this decisive answer, the mermaid vanished. He then finished the washing of his clothes, in which he had been previously interrupted, and after drying them in the sun, he dressed himself, and once more set out.

After he had journeyed for some days he approached a mountain, the top of which was covered with trees in beautiful clusters. Having ascended, he entered these groves, which were lined with elegant couches, and through which flowed rivulets of pure water. The cool zephyr wafting its fragrance through the trees rendered the situation refreshing to the soul. Hatim reclined on one of the couches, and soon fell asleep. Meanwhile the proprietor of the place passing by, was surprised on beholding a youth of graceful mien there asleep. He sat down beside him, and shortly after, Hatim, refreshed by sleep, sat up, and seeing a stranger, respectfully saluted him. The other, in courteous terms, returned his salutation, and said, “Whence came you, and whither are you going? Pray tell me, what are your motives for traversing this dreary waste?” Hatim replied, “I am on my way to the desert of Hawaida.” The stranger, on hearing this, said, “How came you to adopt so mad a resolution? has none of your friends been kind enough to prevent your journey?”—“Such,” said Hatim, “is my sincere intention; and placing my reliance on God, I have undertaken this task, and have proceeded thus far on my way. A prince, named Munir Shami, has fallen desperately in love with Husn Banu, the daughter of Burzakh the merchant. The lady has asked of the prince seven questions, the solution of which is beyond his power. Weeping in the agonies of despair, he quitted the haunts of men and turned his face to the mountains and deserts, where I chanced to meet with him. I inquired into the cause of his distress, and learned from him his heart-melting tale. It came into my mind, that to question the distressed as to his circumstances, and then not to make an effort to relieve him, would be a line of conduct unbecoming a man. For this reason, Sir, I have endeavored to do my best in his cause.”

The stranger then said, “Assuredly you must be Hatim himself; for with the exception of Hatim, there is not a man alive who would have acted in such a manner. Generous Hatim! God is beneficent, and to you will render the task easy; but remember, that hitherto no one has returned in safety from the desert of Hawaida, and the few who have thence retraced their steps became distracted in mind and lost to the world; however, since you go, give ear to my advice. The instant you approach the desert of Hawaida, they will assail you with enchantment, against which your power and strength will be of no avail. Around you will gather damsels of surpassing beauty, and among these will be a nymph heart-ravishing, of graceful form, with waving tresses resplendent as the full moon; the moment you behold her your heart will be beyond your control, but you must remain firm of mind and not give way. Should you then resolve to advance, you have merely to take this fair damsel by the hand, and in an instant you will find yourself in the desert of Hawaida. Now, Hatim! if you do not follow my advice, you will have cause to repent of it till your dying hour.”

When he had done speaking, a man advanced to the couch on which they sat, with a table in his hands, and having fixed it before them, he covered it with cloth and presented them with water to wash their hands. He then laid upon the table a large bowl full of milk and rice, and two flagons full of pure water the most delicious that Hatim had ever tasted. Having rested there during the night, Hatim next morning took leave of his host and departed. After journeying for some days, he arrived on the shore of a lake surrounded with shady trees and brimful of clear water. When he was wrapt in admiration of this scene, a nymph of more than mortal beauty, perfect from head to foot, gracefully arose from the water. Hatim, dazzled with her splendor, covered his eyes, and the nymph seizing him by the hand hurried him into the deep. Hatim found himself for some time sinking rapidly, till at last his feet rested on firm ground. He then opened his eyes, and to his astonishment beheld around him a most beautiful and extensive garden. Here the nymph of the lake shortly after quitted her hold of his hand, and vanished from his sight. Hatim walked a considerable way through the garden, when, lo! thousands of beautiful women approached him from every quarter, each of whom tried to win him with her attractions, and endeavored to pierce his heart with the arrows of her loving glances.

To all these, however, Hatim paid not the least regard, for he kept in mind the advice of the stranger who had lately entertained him, and said to himself, “This is all enchantment.” The damsels then laid hold of Hatim and conveyed him to a splendid palace, which was entirely formed of precious stones and all sorts of jewels and pearls, and also decorated with numberless paintings. When Hatim was inside the palace, standing near a throne which he viewed with admiration, he thought within himself, “Now that I am in this palace, why should I not for once sit upon that throne?” He therefore advanced. Placing his foot on the throne, he heard a tremendous crash; he started back, thinking that the throne had been broken under his weight. He once more examined it, and seeing no ground for what he had imagined, he mounted the throne and sat down. He was no sooner upon the throne than the noise was repeated, and the beautiful damsel whom the stranger on the mountain had mentioned to him as likely to take his heart captive, approached him with smiles the most alluring. She was arrayed in gold and jewels of the costliest sort: with a veil cast over her countenance, she advanced and stood at the foot of the throne. Hatim was completely bewildered, and felt the strongest inclination to remove the veil from her face; but then he remembered the advice he had received, and said in his own mind, “It is only by seizing the hand of this damsel that I am to be delivered from this enchantment; however, ere I depart I must see further into the delusions of this place.” For three nights and days Hatim remained seated on the throne. The darkness of the night was dispelled by magic lamps which to him were invisible, and his ears were delighted with melodious sounds. Fantastic groups in endless variety danced along the scene; but, all through, the damsel of surpassing beauty stood by the throne, sweetly smiling in his face. They presented him with food and fruits of every description in costly dishes; but although Hatim ate most heartily, his hunger was not in the least appeased. Wondering in his mind, he said to himself, “Though I am constantly eating I am never satiated, how is this to be accounted for?” In this manner three days had elapsed, and on the fourth he said to himself, “Oh, Hatim! were you to look for a hundred years at these delusive appearances, still you would not have tired of them. At the same time you have left behind you a helpless youth, whose expectations are fixed on your exertions; if you waste the time, what will you have to answer before God?”

Hatim then seized the hand of the fair damsel, which he had no sooner done than a female form issued from the foot of the throne, and struck him a blow which felled him to the ground. He opened his eyes, and on looking round him saw not a trace of the garden, the palace, the throne, or the damsels. A dreary and boundless wilderness presented itself to his view, which he knew to be the desert of Hawaida. He then commenced his search for the man in quest of whom he had travelled, and after he had wandered for some space, his ear was greeted by the welcome sound of “What I once saw, I long for a second time.” Hatim listened with attention, and three times did he distinctly hear this sound, after which all was silent. He proceeded in the direction in which the voice was heard, and for seven nights and days he thus advanced. On his way he often heard the words repeated as it were before him, but never could he discover the person by whom they were uttered.

Hatim, thus bewildered, still advanced; when, lo! on the evening of the ninth day he saw an old man resting himself on the bare earth. Hatim approached and saluted the old man, who courteously returning his salutation, said to him, “Young stranger, whence came you, and what is your business here?”—“Venerable Sir,” said Hatim, “my business here is to learn truly from you what is it that you have seen once, and long to behold a second time.”—“Sit down by me,” said the aged man, “and I will tell you all.” Hatim sat down, and in an instant two loaves and two flagons full of pure water miraculously appeared before them. The old man handed to Hatim one of the loaves and one of the pitchers full of water, and reserved an equal quantity for himself, and both of them silently ate and drank. After their refreshment, Hatim addressed the old man, saying, “Venerable Sir, pray tell me the meaning of these words which you have so often repeated.” To this, the aged man replied, “I once upon a time arrived at the border of a lake, from the waters of which arose a damsel of angelic appearance, who, seizing me by the hand, hurried me into the midst of the deep. When I opened my eyes, I beheld to my astonishment a beauteous garden, from every quarter of which damsels fairest of form came in troops around me. At last they carried me into a palace, and left me standing beside a gorgeous throne, which I mounted and then sat down, beholding with admiration the objects that presented themselves to my view. A beautiful damsel with a veil gracefully thrown over her face approached and stood before the throne. The instant I beheld her fairy form, I lost hold of the reins of my heart and became frantic. I removed the veil from her face; she smiled irresistibly, and my transport knew no bounds. I seized her hand in order to seat her upon the throne, when on a sudden another female form seemed to issue from the earth beneath us, and raising herself, she struck me a blow which hurled me into this desert. Here I wander restless and forlorn, and my thoughts are ever fixed on the image of that heart-ravishing angel.”

Thus spoke the aged man, and then sighing bitterly he shed a flood of tears, and like a maniac flew in every direction, crying aloud, “What I once saw, I long for a second time.” Hatim ran in pursuit of him, and seizing him by the arm, said to him, “Venerable Sir, will your mind be at ease if you should see that fairy form a second time?”—“Assuredly, young man,” said he, “but the case is impossible.”—“Follow me,” said Hatim, “and I will conduct you to her abode.” The old man joyfully accompanied Hatim; and after travelling for some days, they entered the shady groves on the banks of the lake already mentioned.

Hatim then addressed his aged companion, saying, “Now, venerable Sir, when you again arrive in the enchanted palace, if it be your wish to remain there admiring the angelic damsel, you must on no account seize her hand or remove her veil. If you lay hold of her hand, the same disaster from which you have now made your escape will again befall you, and your retracing your way back to that enchanted paradise will be impossible. That I have been enabled to do so, is owing to the kindness of a hermit of exemplary piety, who gave me proper directions when on my way hither. Do you now ascend into yonder tree on the border of the lake, and the beautiful nymph will arise out of the water as formerly.”

Here Hatim took leave of the old man, and the instant the latter ascended the tree that overhung the lake, the nymph gracefully arose out of the water, and seizing him by the hand hurried him into the midst of the deep. Hatim now began to retrace his steps towards Shahabad, and in a few days arrived at the abode of the hermit on the mountain, to whom he related his whole adventure. Having taken an affectionate leave of the hermit, he journeyed onwards till he arrived in the desert of the bears, where he spent a whole month enjoying the society of his beautiful wife, the bear’s daughter. That period having elapsed, he bade adieu to his wife and new kindred, and his next stage was the residence of the jackals. After parting with the latter, nothing occurred worth notice till his safe arrival in Shahabad, where he was recognized and conducted to the caravanseraï by Husn Banu’s people. The Prince Munir Shami prostrated himself at Hatim’s feet, in order to give vent to his gratitude; but Hatim raised him to his bosom, and related to him all that he had seen.

Hatim, accompanied by the prince, waited upon Husn Banu, who, having veiled herself, most courteously received them, and addressing Hatim, she said, “Tell me, brave youth, what news have you brought?”—“An aged man,” replied Hatim, “in the desert of Hawaida once saw by the effect of magic a damsel of angelic form. She deprived him of his heart and of his senses, and since that time he has traversed the wilderness, crying aloud, ‘What I once saw, I long for a second time.’” Hatim then gave a full account to Husn Banu of the nature of the enchanted paradise, and how he had conveyed the old man to the banks of the lake through which he might reënter the magic scene. “In fine,” said Hatim, “those sounds shall be heard no more in the desert, for I have conducted the old man to the abode of that Houri who had robbed him of his heart.”

When Husn Banu heard the whole adventure, she expressed her admiration; and the nurse addressing her, said, “The youth speaks truly, for the case is really as he has related.” Food was then brought in, and Hatim was urged to take refreshment. This done, he said to Husn Banu, “The Supreme Creator has enabled me to explain one of your questions; let me now hear another, that I may endeavor to accomplish its solution.”—“Rest yourself,” said Husn Banu, “for some days till you are recovered from your present fatigue.” Husn Banu at the same time was deeply though secretly enamoured of the prince Munir, but respect for her own dignity compelled her to abide by her declaration, and there was no resource except the solution of the seven questions.

Hatim and the prince Munir rested for the night in the palace of Husn Banu, and next day waited upon her for the purpose of taking leave. Hatim requested to know her second question, which she told him, as follows: “I have heard,” said Husn Banu, “that a certain person has written above his door, ‘Do good, and cast it upon the waters.’ What means this motto, and where lives the writer of it? Having investigated this mystery, return and tell me the result; that is, the good that he has done, and cast upon the waters.” Hatim then took leave of Husn Banu, and having soothed the anxiety of the prince Munir, departed on his second adventure.

BOOK II.

Hatim’s journey in quest of the Man of the Motto—His arrival at the famous Mountain of Kaf[1]—His finding the motto in question written on the door of Harith, from whom he learns its signification—His return, and safe arrival in Shahabad.

When Hatim was taking leave of Husn Banu, he asked her, “Pray can you tell me in what country the man lives?”—“I have not,” said the lady, “the least idea.” The nurse, however, replied, saying, “He resides in the city of Maâdin, which is in a northerly direction, but I know nothing further as to where that city is situated.” Hatim, without further delay, set out from Shahabad, and proceeded towards the north. After several days had thus passed, he approached the skirts of a desert. It was then drawing towards evening, and Hatim, observing a tree on the confines of the wilderness, halted underneath it, and began to look around him on all sides. On a sudden, a voice that betokened the deepest sorrow reached his ear. His heart glowed with pity; and he said in his own mind, “Oh, Hatim! dost thou think it proper that a fellow-creature overwhelmed in distress should be thus left to sigh and lament, without thy inquiring into the cause of his sorrows?”

Hatim got up, and followed the direction of the voice which he had heard. He saw a young man stretched upon the ground, with his cheeks bedewed with tears; his eyes languid, and his color pale, who sighed and lamented bitterly as he uttered the following couplet:—

“Whither can I go, whom can I consult? Oh, tell me what cure to apply, for the arrow of love has pierced my inward soul.”

Hatim addressed the youth, saying, “Friend, what calamity has befallen you to occasion your sighing and weeping in this manner?”—“Brother,” said the youth, “why should I relate the tale of my woe? My telling it can bring no relief, and my rehearsing it will increase my anguish.” Here Hatim most kindly said to him, “At least let me know where lies the difficulty.” The young man thus proceeded with his story: “I am a merchant, and I sometimes visit a spacious city distant from hence about four farasangs[2]. In that city lives a merchant named Harith, who has a daughter of surpassing beauty, resembling the full moon. One day I went to the city in the way of business, and happened to pass by the dwelling of Harith the merchant. The daughter was at that moment looking out at one of the windows, and all at once my eyes were attracted towards her. The instant I beheld this beauty my heart rebelled beyond my control, and reason abandoned my mind; in a word, I was taken captive in the fetters of love.

“I inquired of some of the people in the city, ‘Pray, sirs, whose house is this?’—‘It is,’ said they, ‘the residence of Harith’s daughter.’ I asked them further, ‘Can you tell me whether the lady be married or not?’ They replied, ‘Truly, sir, she is unmarried as yet; her father has three questions, and has resolved to bestow his daughter on that man only who can answer them.’ My uneasiness was so great that I straightway went to Harith’s gate, and sent him a message announcing my object. Harith replied, saying, ‘I have no control over my daughter in this case, she is left to choose for herself. She has three questions to propose, and she will accept as her husband the man who can answer them to her satisfaction.’

“I thence proceeded to the door of the apartment of Harith’s daughter, and by message announced my attendance. The lady invited me to enter, and having caused me to be seated in an elegant chamber, she sent me word to this effect: ‘First you must sign an agreement with me, and then I will converse with you.’ To this I replied, that I was ready to obey whatever she should command. The lady then informed me, ‘If you solve my three questions, I shall become entirely yours; but if you succeed not, all your wealth shall be mine.’ In my ardor I at once agreed to these conditions, and requested her further commands.

“She proceeded, saying, ‘My first question is this: in the vicinity of our city is a cave the inside of which no one has hitherto explored, nor is it known how far it extends; examine this cave, and let me know the result.

“‘My second question is as follows: on the night of Jumat[3] a voice is heard in the wilderness of some one who exclaims, “I have done nothing which can benefit me this night.” Bring me an account of this person, and tell me why he reiterates such an exclamation.

“‘My third question: There is a fairy named Mahpari, who has in her possession the precious stone called the Shahmuhra[4]; find out this fairy’s abode, and procure for me the jewel.’

“When she had finished her commands, I returned to my house and conveyed to her the whole of my wealth, of which she is now in possession. I then quitted the city, and made my way into this desert. Here I wander involved in calamities: on the one hand, I have parted with all my substance, and have deprived myself of a home; and on the other, the arrow of love still pierces my heart.”[5]

Hatim, on hearing the young man’s history, said to him, “Let your mind be easy as to this affair; only conduct me to that city, and I shall endeavor to put you in possession of your mistress, and restore to you your lost property.” The youth said, “In my present state my wealth would be useless; let me but gain my mistress, for without her my life will be insupportable.”

Hatim took the youth by the hand, and both set out for the city. When they arrived, they rested a little at a caravanseraï; there Hatim left his companion, and having gone to the gate of Harith’s daughter, he addressed the porter, saying, “Tell your mistress that I wish to speak with her on matrimonial affairs.” The attendants immediately conveyed the intelligence to their mistress, that a youth had arrived at the gate who longed to converse with her. The lady, on hearing this, threw on her veil, and gave orders that Hatim should be introduced. She then stated to him the three queries above-mentioned, concerning which Hatim replied, “If your father will enter into a written agreement with me, I will solve your questions. The terms are as follows: when I shall have brought satisfactory answers to your questions, you must submit to be bestowed by me on whomsoever I please, and the choice of your disposal shall be left entirely with me.”

“When you have answered my questions,” said the lady, “I shall be yours; and then you may dispose of me as you deem proper.”—“Enough,” said Hatim; “now send for your father.” The father accordingly attended, and Hatim received from him a written agreement to the effect already stated. The daughter, addressing Hatim, said, “If you should prove unsuccessful in the solution of any of the above queries, what will be the consequence?”—“Wealth,” said Hatim, “I have none, but my head is at your disposal.” On hearing this, the lady was satisfied, and at Hatim’s request, thus stated her first question: “In the vicinity of this city is a cave, well known to all the inhabitants; bring me a true account of it, and inform me of its innermost secrets.”

Hatim took leave of the lady, and taking with him some of her people as guides, he set out from the city, and soon arrived at the mouth of the cave, which was situated about three farasangs distant. When the guides had brought Hatim to the mouth of the cave, he said to them, “Now, whether will you return to the city, or remain here till I come out?” They answered him, saying “We are ordered not to quit this spot till you come out, so here we shall remain; meanwhile one of us shall return to the city, in order to procure food.”

Hatim threw himself into the cave, and began to explore his way. For the whole of that, and several successive days, he continued to advance, till at last he saw a glimmering light. He then supposed that he had reached the extremity of the cave, and bethought himself that he ought to return. But on further consideration, he said in his own mind, “If people ask of me aught concerning the mysteries of its interior, what answer can I give?” He therefore issued out from the extremity of the cave, and continued to advance. Before him lay a boundless desert, through which flowed rivulets of water. Hatim had brought with him from the city two bags full of kernels of almonds, and a flask full of water. Of these he ate a few every day, and after expressing his thanks to the Creator, he pursued his route, and when his flask full of water was exhausted, he supplied himself from the streams that flowed through the desert.

After journeying for several days, Hatim beheld a lofty and extensive rampart, and after examining it all around he discovered that there was a town within it. He entered within the walls, and as he advanced towards the town found traces of its being inhabited; and when he approached still nearer, he saw that the natives were demons.[6]

The moment that Hatim was perceived by the demons they rushed upon him, male and female, and having surrounded him, they seized him with the intention of tearing him to pieces, in order to devour him. One of the demons interfered, saying, “This is one of Adam’s race, and his flesh is a most delicious morsel; if you appropriate him to your own use, and our king should know of it, he will certainly annihilate every soul of you. You must not therefore touch a hair of him without the king’s permission.” The demons asked, in return, “Who is he that will convey the information to the king?” The other replied, “Among us there are many enemies; therefore listen to my advice, and lay not a finger on this man.”

The demons accordingly left Hatim and retired to their haunts. Hatim then proceeded onwards through the city, and was very soon surrounded and laid hold of by others. Here his case was truly desperate, for they were ready to devour him. One of them, however, again interfered, and thus addressed them: “The deed you are about to do will be fatal to you. You must so proceed in this affair that the earthly man be conveyed to the king. His Majesty’s daughter is sick, and he himself is afflicted with an inward pain, from which he never enjoys a moment’s respite. Thousands of the human race have been procured, and are now kept in confinement by our monarch, but as yet he has found no remedy; and at the same time his Majesty says that he is to be cured by one of the sons of Adam. If, in short, the king should hear that in such a town a man should have arrived and been devoured by you, he would punish with death both yourselves and your wives and children. If, on the other hand, his Majesty’s health should be restored, what can be more gratifying? And if otherwise, why, then, this man will be kept in confinement along with the rest of his species.”

To this replied another of the demons: “We lately conveyed such a being as this to his Majesty, but no cure was the consequence; so we had nothing but reproaches for our trouble. Why should we concern ourselves with this man? Since he has once entered our country he cannot escape, and it is best to let him make his way to the king of his own accord, and I shall watch him in order that no one else may assail him.”

When Hatim had listened to this conversation of the demons, he said in his own mind, “Now, I wonder what can be the nature of their monarch’s disease? I must inquire into his case, as well as that of his daughter.” Having made this resolution, he departed and left the town. Shortly after he beheld at a distance another of their towns; and as he approached it, the demon inhabitants came upon him and carried him before their chief. Now it happened that the wife of the chief had a violent pain in her eyes, from which water constantly flowed.

When the demons entered with Hatim, the chief raised his head, which was bent downwards in sorrow for his wife, and thus addressed them: “Why have you brought hither this man? Release him, and let him go where he pleaseth.” When Hatim beheld the anguish of the chief, his heart was moved with pity, and he said to himself, “I must inquire into the cause of his affliction.” He approached, and said, “Most worthy chief, what grieves thee, and why sittest thou thus melancholy?”—“Son of man,” replied the demon chief, “what avails my telling thee? My wife is tormented with a pain in her eyes, without any interval of relief.”—“If,” said Hatim, “thou wilt conduct me to her presence, I will cure her of her pain.”

The demon rose up, and seizing Hatim by the hand, led him forthwith into his wife’s apartment. In passing, Hatim was struck with admiration as he viewed the princely couches that lined the spacious galleries laid out with neatness and regularity; and a splendid throne with piles of cushions, on which reclined the wife of the chief. As they approached her, the demon said to Hatim, “Behold in what a sea of affliction she is involved!”—“Of that,” said Hatim, “I will completely cure her, if thou wilt promise to conduct me to the king of the demons.”

The chief swore by the seal of Solomon[7], the prophet of Iram, and said, “Nothing can be more agreeable to me than to conduct thee before his Majesty, for it will afford me an opportunity of paying him my respects, and besides he is desirous to have some one of thy race that may cure him of his disease.” Hatim had brought with him the pearl which his wife had given him at parting with strict injunctions to preserve it, telling him at the same time, “This is a token of my affection, and is possessed of many virtues.” He now drew forth this pearl, and having immersed it in pure water, he applied the latter to the eyes of the chief’s wife. The instant this remedy was applied, her pain was alleviated, and the swelling of her eyes diminished, and they dried up. For some time previous she had been quite blind; but she now opened her eyes, and after two or three applications of this remedy she experienced a complete cure.

When the chief of the demons saw that his wife was cured, he with the utmost kindness detained Hatim some time at his house, and hospitably entertained him, and bestowed upon him every attention in his power. After some days he conducted him into the presence of the king, whose name was Farokash. When the demon chief was honored with an audience from his king, having made a low obeisance, he respectfully stood before his Majesty, and thus represented his errand: “Sire, one of the human race is come into my possession; he is the most learned of the age, and the most skilful of physicians, possessed of a most benevolent heart. My wife was so afflicted with a pain in her eyes that her life was despaired of, and in one day he completely cured her.”

When Farokash, the monarch of the demons, heard this intelligence, his heart rejoiced, and he gave orders to the chief to produce this learned man with all speed. Hatim was presented to the king, who treated him with great courtesy, and made him sit beside him. His Majesty then stated his case, saying, “For some time I have been afflicted with a pain in my stomach, and amidst my own subjects no one has been successful in curing me. Remediless, I have had recourse to the human race, but none of them has as yet afforded me the least relief.”

Hatim said to the king, “Pray tell me, Sire, are there many of your servants usually in attendance when you sit down to take food?” His Majesty replied, that every one of his servants usually stood in his presence at such times. Hatim then requested that he should be allowed to be present on that day when his Majesty should dine, which request was readily granted.

When the time of eating arrived, the table was laid out, and the food was placed upon it. When his Majesty was about to commence eating, Hatim requested him to desist for a little. He then took a joint of meat, and held it up so that every eye in the house might look upon it. He then ordered them to lay it aside under cover for about the space of an hour, after which he caused the cover to be removed, and lo! all the meat on the joint had in that short time become worms. Farokash was an observer of this wonderful occurrence, and remarked to Hatim, “Most learned Sir, this is truly strange.”—“This, Sire,” said Hatim, “accounts for the pain you suffer, and the cause of it is that a malignant eye has fallen upon the meat. Henceforth it will be necessary that you eat in private, and that all your attendants be previously satisfied with food; then your Majesty may eat to advantage, for the consequence will be a complete cure, and the pain will be removed.”

The king was highly pleased with Hatim’s advice, which he forthwith put in practice; and in a short time his pain entirely left him, and he enjoyed perfect health. He gratefully clasped Hatim to his bosom, and placed him upon a throne similar to his own. Hatim, thus honored, ventured to petition the king of the demons as follows: “Sire, you are now restored to health; may I beg that you will liberate such of my fellow-creatures as are now your prisoners, in order that they may return to their own country?”

His Majesty ordered that all the sons of Adam then in his possession should be ushered into his presence, which was done. He bestowed on each of them a splendid dress, and having furnished them with necessaries for their journey, dismissed them. The king then addressed Hatim, saying, “Learned Sir, I have a favor to ask of you, if it be not too much trouble for you to grant it.”—“It will afford me a sincere pleasure,” said Hatim, “to comply with your commands.”—“I have a daughter,” rejoined the king, “who has been sick for some time, and my wish is, that you will for an instant visit her.” To this Hatim readily assented, and the king, taking him by the hand, conducted him into the more private apartments of the house, and gave orders that his daughter should attend.

As the daughter of Farokash entered, Hatim viewed her face, the color of which had become pale and yellow. He gave orders to bring some water and sugar. These he mixed together so as to form a pleasant draught; he then dropped into it the charmed pearl, and handed the goblet to the king’s daughter to drink. In a short time she experienced great relief, and when night came she enjoyed a most profound sleep. At length her father, somewhat alarmed, said to Hatim, “Pray tell me, most learned man, what means this long sleep?”—“Sire, rest you satisfied; if this sleep had not ensued, we should have had cause to fear.”

For the space of three days Hatim continued to administer this draught to his patient, after which period she was allowed some small quantity of light food; and in the course of ten or fifteen days she was restored to perfect health, and her countenance assumed its natural appearance. Hatim then addressed Farokash, saying, “Your daughter is completely cured, so I hope you will allow me to depart, in order that I may look after my affairs.”

Farokash brought for Hatim’s acceptance such a mine of wealth, in gold and jewels as to be beyond calculation. His Majesty at the same time apologized to Hatim for such an offer, saying, “This dross is indeed unfit to be presented to you, but it will suit your servants and attendants; I therefore hope you will accept it as a mark of my regard.” Here Hatim observed, “I am alone; how then shall I be able to carry it?” On hearing this, the king gave orders to his demon subjects, saying, “Let all this wealth be carefully packed up, and you shall accompany this worthy man, in order to carry it to whatsoever place he may desire.”

Hatim took leave of the king, and taking the jewels and gold, departed under the guidance of the demons. In about six months he arrived at the extremity of the cave through which he had entered the dominions of Farokash. The guides accompanied him through the cave, and in the space of three days landed him safe at its mouth. Hatim asked them, “Have you any objections to go further?” They replied, “Our orders will not permit us to accompany you beyond the mouth of the cave”; and accordingly they laid down their burdens of gold and jewels on that same spot, and forthwith began to retrace their steps.

When the people that had been stationed at the mouth of the cave by Harith’s daughter saw the demons, they all ran off. Hatim shouted after them, “Good people, be not afraid; I am Hatim, the man who some time ago entered in order to explore this cave. I am now safely returned; why then do you run away from me?” The people looked back, and seeing Hatim, they recognized him and returned.

Hatim having sent for the youth whom he had left in the caravanseraï at his departure, said to him, “On you I bestow all this money and these jewels which I have procured.” He then caused the valuable effects to be conveyed into the city to the young man’s residence. The youth fell at Hatim’s feet, but the latter raised him up, and clasped him to his bosom.

Meanwhile the people belonging to Harith’s daughter conveyed to their mistress the news of Hatim’s arrival. The merchant’s daughter immediately sent for him, and requested to know the result of his adventure. He minutely detailed to her the nature of the cave, and every circumstance connected with his journey among the demons. He then said to her, “Thus I have answered one of your questions; let me now hear your next, that I may immediately set about its solution.”

Harith’s daughter stated her second question, as follows: “There is heard in the desert the voice of a man, who exclaims, ‘I have done nothing which can benefit me this night.’”

On hearing this, Hatim returned to the caravanseraï, and after taking leave of the young man, set out for the desert. One night, which happened to be that of Jumat, as he was reclining under a tree, occupied in adoring the Supreme Creator, suddenly his ears caught the sound, “I have done nothing which might have been of service to me this night.” For the whole of that night Hatim continued to advance in the direction from which the sound reached his ear. When daylight came he again sat down under the shade of a tree, and began to deliberate with himself whether he should turn to the right hand or to the left.

While he was thus uncertain as to his route, he happened to espy a village on the confines of the desert. Thither he bent his steps, in order to take some repose till the night of Jumat should again arrive. When it came to the appointed hour, Hatim once more heard the sound repeated, and speedily set out in order to make up to it. He entered the desert, and for the whole of that night continued to advance without arresting his steps for an instant.

When daylight shone upon him, he halted for the purpose of repose, and soon after his ears were assailed with the voice of sorrow and lamentation. He started up, and after advancing some distance he beheld a village, the inhabitants of which were all assembled together weeping and lamenting bitterly. Hatim approached, and asked one of them, “What is the cause of your weeping and lamentation?” They answered him, “Once a week a monstrous giant comes to our village, and devours one of our number; and if we do not appease him by the sacrifice of a human creature, he will raze our abodes to the dust, and destroy us all. At present the lot has fallen on the son of our chief; on Thursday the monster will come, and the four days that intervene till that time are devoted to weeping and mourning. The youth’s relations are at this moment standing around him, extolling his virtues and lamenting his fate. This, Sir, is the cause of the grief that now overwhelms our village.”

Hatim inquired of the people, “Which of this assembly is the chief’s son, and which the parents and relatives?” These were pointed out to Hatim, who approached the chief, and said to him, “Honored Sir, pray tell me what sort of monster is this, and what form does he assume? Meanwhile be under no anxiety, for I, as substitute for your son, will face the giant.” The chief replied, “Brave youth! may heaven reward your generosity; you seem a stranger too in our village.”—“Suffice it for the present,” said Hatim, “that I have drunk of your waters; you have therefore a claim upon my friendship; only describe to me in what form this monster appears.”

The chief of the village drew a sketch of the monster upon the sand; on seeing which, Hatim observed, “This must be the giant Halūka; he is invulnerable against all weapons, but if you will follow my directions, I trust that, if it please God the Supreme, I may be able to overcome him.” The people anxiously asked, “How is this to be done?” Hatim, addressing the chief, said, “Are there any manufacturers of glass in your village?”—“There are,” said the chief, “two or three houses for that purpose.”

Immediately Hatim, accompanied by the chief, proceeded to the houses of the glass manufacturers, and gave orders to the latter to this effect: “Within four days you must make a mirror of two hundred feet in length and one hundred feet in breadth. Such a mirror will be necessary for the expulsion of the giant, and if you comply not he will destroy the whole of your village.” The glass manufacturers replied, “If you furnish us with the materials, we shall be able to have your mirror ready within the time specified.” Here the chief said to them, “Whatever amount of money may be of use to you, I shall furnish”; and he immediately sent them the sum they demanded. They then set about the forming of the mirror, and in the space of three days their task was finished.

When Hatim was informed that the mirror was ready, he commanded the men of the city to assemble, in order to convey the mirror to a certain spot without the city by which the giant usually entered. The people obeyed him, and conveyed the mirror safe to the appointed spot, and there erected it. Hatim then told them to bring as many sheets as when sewed together would cover the surface of the mirror, which order was speedily executed by the chief and his attendants.

Hatim now addressed the multitude, saying, “My good friends, you may in the meantime retire to your houses without the least uneasiness of mind. This night you may sleep in security; and if any of you is desirous to see the result of my stratagem, let him remain here with me.” The son of the chief promptly spoke out, “I will be your companion”; but his father forbade him, saying, “Already my wealth is expended in order to purchase your safety; why then do you venture to face the giant?”

On hearing this remark, Hatim said to the chief, “There is nothing to fear; you may rest satisfied that no harm will befall your son. If he should suffer the least injury, you shall be at liberty to do with me what you choose.” Here the youth himself boldly answered, “A few days ago, you had all resolved to sacrifice me to this monster; you will allow, then, that I am under no great obligations to you. I prefer the society of this brave man, who has been the means of my preservation. Would you be thought void of religion and reckless of fame? When a man who is an utter stranger places himself in so perilous a situation in order to avert the evil that threatens you, is it consistent with religion and honor to leave him alone, and retire to your houses?”

All the people, on hearing this address, insisted on remaining in company with Hatim; and having dressed some food in the open plain, they ate and rejoiced, saying, “This night the giant shall be destroyed.” The whole of that day passed, and when night arrived, a most terrific yell assailed their ears, such as usually accompanied the approach of the giant. They shuddered, and their faces assumed a yellow hue. “Fear not,” said Hatim; “keep strict silence, and be not under the least apprehension. You shall soon behold rare sport; the monster is coming, as is indicated by that howl.”

In the course of an hour the giant was so near as to be distinctly seen in shape like an immense dome. He had neither hands nor feet, but a tremendous mouth situated in the midst of his body. He advanced with a revolving motion, and from his jaws issued volumes of flame and clouds of smoke. When the people saw this terrific spectacle they trembled, and attempted to fly. “You have nothing to fear,” said Hatim, “stand quiet and look on; not the least harm will befall you.” Encouraged by Hatim’s address they stood silent as the dead, and trembling beheld the approach of the giant.

Hatim stood with his eye fixed on Halūka as he rolled towards him; and when the giant was within a few paces of the mirror, the curtain that covered it was suddenly pulled off. When Halūka beheld his own monstrous form in the glass, his breath was stopped from anger; he uttered a single yell, so loud as to make the desert and the mountains shake. Choking with rage, he remained for a short time, till at last his confined breath so inflated him that he burst with a noise like the crash of the thunderbolt, so that the hearers were struck senseless, and the echoes of the wilderness reverberated far and wide.

When the people were restored to their senses, what a spectacle they beheld! The desert was overspread with the entrails of Halūka, who now lay dead before them. The whole assembly, including the chief and his son, gathered around Hatim and prostrated themselves at his feet. They then addressed him: “Most learned Sir, tell us the reason why the monster has thus died as it were of his own accord.”—“You see,” replied Hatim, “the giant has come by his death, not from any weapon, but merely by the viewing of his own image, for he had never seen his own likeness in any other creature; rage stopped his breath so effectually that he burst.”

Next day the inhabitants of the village, each according to his means, produced all their valuables in gold, jewels, and diamonds, and offered them to Hatim, who would accept nothing, saying, “My good friends, these are not of the least use to me. In this affair I have merely discharged my duty towards God and my fellow-creatures.”—“May we ask,” said they, “what has been the cause of your coming into our village?” Hatim answered, “This is the eve of Jumat, when a voice will be heard in the desert, crying, ‘I have not done aught that will benefit me this night.’ In order to ascertain the meaning of this voice, I have journeyed hither, and to-night I intend to travel in pursuit of the mysterious being who utters the exclamation.”

The chief observed, “For some time now that voice has been heard by us also, but we do not know whence it proceeds.” Hatim remained in the village for the whole of that day, and at the usual time at night the voice reached his ear, and he instantly proceeded in the direction whence it came. For the whole of the night he continued to advance as he supposed towards the sound, and when daylight came he found himself still in the desert, where he again halted.

In short, Hatim thus journeyed onwards week after week for the space of two months, at the expiration of which period he at last came to a mound of sand of about five hundred feet in diameter. He ascended to the summit, and soon discovered that the voice issued from its interior. He halted and looked around him; and lo! a body of men consisting of about five hundred horsemen, and as many on foot, appeared drawn up in array before him. He approached them, but found that they were all statues of marble, being as he conjectured monuments of the illustrious dead. Among these tombs Hatim rested for a week, until the time of hearing the voice should again come round.

As the evening of Jumat closed its shades, Hatim ascended the sand-hill, and devoutly kneeling, poured out his soul in prayer before the Almighty Creator. When about a watch of the night had passed, the inmates of the tombs started into life, with countenances resembling angels. They arrayed the place with couches and thrones, on which they sat apparelled in robes of splendid description. But amidst these, one of the revived dead, with weeping eyes and mean apparel, his body sprinkled with dust and ashes, and his feet bare, came forth, and in humble posture sat upon the cold ground. Before each of those who sat on thrones and couches flowed streams of nectar, of which they freely drank, but none of them gave the least drop to the wretched man who sat upon the bare earth. The latter, after some time, fetched a deep sigh, and said, “Alas! I have not done that which might have benefited me this night.”

Hatim stood near and witnessed the whole scene, and rejoiced that his inquiries were now likely to prove successful. When the hour of midnight arrived, a table miraculously placed itself before each of them. On every table was laid a large vessel full of rice and milk, with a goblet full of pure water. But there stood a table apart from the rest furnished in like manner, and one of the company said, “Come, my friends, this traveller is our guest for the time, let him be introduced, and seated at this unoccupied table.” On hearing this, one of them arose, and advancing to Hatim, took him kindly by the hand, and conducting him to a couch, placed food before him.

Hatim’s attention was wholly occupied by the man who lay on the ground sighing and weeping, and at intervals exclaiming, “I have not done aught that can benefit me this night.” The latter, too, had a table, but instead of nectar and ambrosia his cup was filled with the juice of the zakkūm,[8] and the food of the condemned, and the most loathsome dregs mingled with blood. Hatim for some time held down his head in deep reflection, and at last began to taste of the fare before him. After he had refreshed himself with food and drink, the tables vanished from his view; but his thoughts ever reverted to the mysterious state of the wretched being who sat upon the ground before him.

Hatim, addressing the company, said, “Most worthy sirs, I have one request which, with your permission, I wish to state.” The whole assembly requested him to speak. Hatim then proceeded: “How comes it, worthy sirs, that you are seated on thrones, exalted in dignity, and regaled with such heavenly and delicious fare? And, on the other hand, tell me the reason why, instead of such food, the juice of the zakkūm with the most loathsome of dregs has been allotted as the portion of this miserable man who lies stretched on the bare earth?” To this they replied, “From us that mystery is utterly hidden; seek information from the sufferer himself.”

Hatim arose, and coming up to the man, said, “Pray, friend, what is the meaning of this mysterious exclamation which you utter? From what cause are you become involved in such misery? For heaven’s sake inform me of your condition.” The man of woe replied, “My kind friend, I am the chief of all this assembly. My name is Yusuf, and my occupation has been that of a merchant. I was journeying with goods and stores to the city of Khwarzim, and those whom you see here were my servants that attended me. In my disposition I was so great a miser that I never gave away in charity a single farthing of my money, nor one rag of apparel, nor a morsel of food; nay, not even a drop of water would I bestow on my fellow-creatures. These my attendants, on the other hand, were wont to give of their food to the hungry, and they clothed the naked, and bestowed their gold in charity upon the poor and the needy, and all such as were destitute. I used to chide them severely, saying, ‘Pray, for what purpose do you thus squander your money, and give away your food without any return?’ Their reply was: ‘This we do as a service acceptable to our Creator, and due to our fellow-creatures; a service of which we shall receive the reward and reap the advantages in a future state.’ On receiving from them such answers, I used to beat them, and often did I threaten them with punishment on account of their liberality. I also argued with them, but to no effect; and whenever any of them ventured to give me salutary advice, I paid not the least regard to him.

“On our journey a gang of robbers surrounded and overpowered us, and seized the whole of my property. They then murdered myself and all my attendants, and having buried us in this spot, they departed. Here we rest, alike martyrs: but my servants are, as you observe, crowned with glory for their charitable and generous disposition; and I, on account of my baseness and avarice, am plunged into the lowest depth of misery. After the robbers had murdered us, it was their intention to mutilate and leave exposed our corpses; but one of them said: ‘Have you not already seized their property, and slain them without cause? How inhuman then it would be to leave them unburied on the highway! Do you imagine that after such a savage deed you can ever enjoy the least portion of their wealth!’ The robbers listened to this address, and accordingly interred us in this desert.

“In my native country, my grandchildren and descendants are now living in a state of abject poverty. My residence was in the capital of China, in such a quarter [here he described the street and the house], and in a certain chamber of the house is buried an immense treasure in gold and jewels, of which no one has any information. This, too, is an instance of my avaricious disposition, and accounts for the state in which you now behold me. See what an exalted rank my servants have attained! They are seated upon thrones; they fare upon the most delicious food, and drink of the purest and coolest streams, and are clothed in the apparel of angels, while I am doomed to suffer the pangs of misery and despair.”

Hatim, on hearing this account, addressed him, saying, “Is it anyhow possible to administer to your relief?” Yusuf replied, “Many a long year have I now passed in this state of torment, but no one has hitherto listened to my cries. This night you have approached me, and compassionately interested yourself in my condition; on you, then, God the Supreme will bestow his guidance in your endeavors to serve me. Proceed forthwith to the capital of China, and find out my residence, which is in the division occupied by the linen merchants. My name, as I told you, is Yusuf, and in my day I was notorious in all quarters of the city, and my grandchildren are still there in a state of destitution. When you arrive at my residence, inform them of my condition, and tell them that in a certain apartment [which he particularly described] is buried a vast treasure of gold and jewels. This treasure you shall bring to light, and divide into four equal portions. Bestow one of these shares on my grandchildren, and the other three you shall expend in charitable deeds; in feeding the hungry, in clothing the naked, and in administering to the distress of the poor and needy. Do this, and perhaps my doom may be averted; for though I have suffered martyrdom, I am not entitled to salvation, so heinous is the crime of avarice; whereas my servants, on account of their liberality, are now in a state of happiness.”

Hatim solemnly promised, in the name of his Creator, that he would strictly perform what Yusuf desired him, and added: “I should no longer consider myself of the tribe of Taï, had I refused to lend you my aid in your distress.” Hatim remained there during the whole of the night, and witnessed what happiness the servants enjoyed, while their wretched master passed his time in weeping and lamentation. When the morning began to dawn the martyrs vanished from his sight, each into his silent cell.

Hatim then set out on his journey for the capital of China, and after he had advanced a considerable way, he arrived at the mouth of a well. There he espied a man in the act of drawing water; and as he was about to request of him to have some to drink, suddenly a serpent as large as the proboscis of an elephant reared its head from the water, and coiling itself round the body of the man, plunged with him into the deep. Hatim wrung his hands in agony, and exclaimed, “Alas! what a deed this snake has perpetrated! It has destroyed a poor man who came hither for water, and whose wife and children are anxiously expecting his return. Oh, Hatim! shall it be said that a poor man was deprived of life, and you standing by without lending him the least assistance? What will be your answer hereafter in the presence of your Creator?”

Thus he soliloquized, and instantly plunged into the water. In a short time he fixed his feet on firm ground, and on opening his eyes he was astonished in finding neither the well nor the water; but instead of these a spacious plain opened to his view, abounding with beautiful trees, in the midst of which he espied a lofty palace. He approached it, wondering within himself whither the serpent could have gone with the waterman, and whence sprung up the noble mansion that stood before him.

With these thoughts occupying his mind, he came close to the palace. There he beheld splendid galleries with elegant couches, and a throne brilliant as crystal surmounted with piles of cushions, on which lay asleep a monstrous creature of human form in stature like a giant. Hatim resolved on calling this monster to account for the snake and the waterman, but at the same time he hesitated, as he nowhere beheld any traces either of the serpent or the man. “At all events,” said Hatim to himself, “I shall approach him, and see what sort of subject he is.” Hatim went up to the giant, and as the latter was still asleep, he quietly took his seat beside him. He had not sat long when he espied in a corner of the garden the very serpent that had carried off the waterman.

As soon as the snake observed Hatim it rushed upon him, and he, enraged on account of the fate of the waterman, seized it by the two jaws, and exerting his whole strength, thus held it immovable. The snake raised such a hissing noise, that the giant who slept on the throne started up, and roared out to Hatim, “You son of man, what are you about? that is my courier.” Hatim replied, “I will not quit my hold unless my friend be restored to me.”

The giant called out to the serpent, “Beware: this seems to be a powerful man, and capable of tearing thy jaws asunder. Above all, take care that he discover not the passage into thy mouth!” When Hatim heard this, he stretched open the two jaws of the serpent, entered its mouth, and was instantly swallowed, notwithstanding the repeated warnings of the giant to the contrary. Arrived, as he thought, in the abdomen of the snake, he was surprised at finding himself in a spacious and sombre apartment. He began to grope his way through this strange abode, when suddenly a voice reached his ear, saying, “Oh, Hatim! whatsoever you meet with in this apartment, cut it with your dagger, for by that means only you will be released from this enchantment; and otherwise you cannot escape hence till the day of judgment.”

While Hatim was thus exploring his dark abode, he unexpectedly laid his hand on something in the shape of a heart. The moment he felt this substance he pulled out his knife and cut it into many pieces, agreeably to the warning voice he had heard. This was no sooner done than a flood of water rushed upon him, and he found himself overwhelmed amidst swelling billows. Exhausted, he began to sink, and after some time he once more felt the ground underneath his feet. He opened his eyes and looked around him, but no trace could he see of the palace, the giant, the serpent, the garden, or the dark chamber where he had lately been. Before him lay a boundless desert, strewed apparently with dead bodies. On coming nearer he observed that a few of these wretches were still alive, while others were in the agonies of death.

Among the living, Hatim discovered the very waterman whom the snake had carried off. He made up to him, and said, “Brother, how came you here?” The waterman replied, “I was drawing water from the well, when a serpent carried me off, and having conveyed me hither, vanished from my sight. What that serpent is, or where it is gone to, I know not.” Hatim questioned various other individuals as to their coming thither, and from all of them received for answer that the serpent had brought them. He then explained to them the nature of the enchantment by which they were held, and how he had broken the spell by entering the mouth of the snake, and cutting to pieces the heart in the dark chamber. He concluded, saying, “Give praise to God, for your enemy is now vanquished, and you are at liberty to go wherever you please.” The wretched men replied, “It is a long time since some of us came hither, and we know not the way by which we were brought. Most of our number have died of hunger and thirst, and we also were despairing of life; God the Supreme has in his mercy destined thee to be our deliverer.”

Hatim, after giving them proper directions, took his leave, and proceeded on his journey to the capital of China. In the course of a few days he entered that vast empire, and arrived at one of their principal cities. The sentinels at the gate immediately seized him, and said, “Who are you, and whither do you go? You must come before our governor, and give an account of yourself before we can allow you to advance any further.” Hatim, thus roughly handled, said to them, “Good people, is it the custom of your empire to annoy travellers in this manner?”

The sentinels replied, “The reason why we detain you is this: The daughter of our governor asks three questions of every traveller that enters the city; if he give a satisfactory answer, he is permitted to go his way, and if not, he is put to death; from which circumstance our city is called the city of Be-dad or Injustice.” Hatim having no choice, accompanied the sentinels, meditating as to the nature of the questions which would be put to him. At length the sentinels presented him to the governor: the latter asked of him, “Stranger, whence come you, and what is your name?”—“I am from Yemen,” said he, “and on my way to the capital of China. As to my name, it does not concern you: no one ought to annoy the traveller unnecessarily; on the other hand, he is entitled to kind treatment and hospitality from your hand, if you wish to set a good example to the world, and do what is acceptable to God the Supreme.”

The governor replied, “A severe scourge has fallen upon our city, which has always been famous for equity, so as to have merited the appellation of Adālatabad (the city of justice); but now, owing to the violent caprice of my daughter, its present name is Bedadabad. For some time past every traveller that arrived in our city has on her account been put to death, and their blood has fallen upon my head.” After some meditation, Hatim said to him, “Why do you not slay your daughter at once?”—“Is it possible,” replied the governor, “for any man to be the murderer of his own child, nay, of his only child? It is not in my heart to put her to death.” When Hatim heard this appeal, his eyes shed tears as he replied, “Alas, miserable man! you have no remedy. May the Almighty Creator remove from you this heavy affliction.” The governor of Adālatabad then conducted Hatim to his daughter’s apartment. The lady arrayed herself in her finest apparel, and summoned Hatim into the apartment occupied by the women, where she reclined upon a throne of shining gold. Hatim was struck with her beauty, which excelled that of all other mortals. She gracefully stood up, and modestly drawing her veil over her face, received Hatim with extreme courtesy and affection, for the instant she beheld him her heart felt for him. She took him by the hand and seated him upon a splendid throne, while she herself occupied another beside him.

She then sent for her nurse, and said to her, “My dear mother, this traveller who has arrived to-day has won my heart, and is mutually enamoured of me. He seems of noble rank; but, alas! to-morrow his life shall be sacrificed.” The nurse replied, “Alas, my child! it is your destiny to act with violence and oppression towards travellers, not even excepting this comely and noble youth; but there is no saying whether he may not prove successful in executing your commands.”—“Let me but know,” said Hatim, “the nature of the task which the lady proposes, and the reason why so many travellers are sacrificed in this city, which is now proverbial for cruelty.”—“Noble youth,” the nurse replied, “every night this lady becomes possessed of an evil spirit, and utters the most incoherent expressions, after which she proposes three enigmas to such strangers as may be found within the city. If the latter fail in solving her riddles, she causes them to be instantly put to death. None of us her attendants can venture to remain near her at such times lest some evil might be our lot.”

On hearing this statement, Hatim replied, “Well, I shall soon know by experience whether longer life or immediate death be destined for me.” He was then presented with food: but he rejected it, saying, “I will not eat of your food until I have accomplished the service you may impose upon me; such is my vow. I consider it inconsistent with probity in a man to waste his time in eating and drinking, or wantonly to throw away his life and leave unfinished the business intrusted to him by another; forgive me, then, for refusing your bounty.”—“Generous youth,” said the nurse, “I am confident that you will succeed in this affair; you speak the sentiments of rectitude and honor.”

Night arrived, and all the servants and attendants abandoned the palace, and shut fast the gates behind them, leaving Hatim to his fate. About the end of the first watch the lady became frantic, and spoke incoherently whatever came into her mind. She wildly cast her eyes on Hatim, and thus addressed him: “Stranger, who are you, and what is your business here? Answer my riddle, or you shall die.”—“What is your riddle?” said Hatim; “let me hear it.”

The lady then proceeded with her first question, which Hatim, after mature reflection, was fortunate enough to solve to her satisfaction, though it was of a nature unsuited for publication to the world and is therefore left unuttered here. “Tell me,” she then said, “the answer to my second question, which is this: There is a fruit sweet beyond measure to the taste of all living creatures, whether genii, men, beasts or birds; what fruit is this of which all are so fond?” Hatim instantly replied, “The fruit you allude to is their offspring, which are dear to all.”—“Tell me now,” said the lady, “my third and last question, what is it that no one desires, and yet every one obtains?”—“That,” replied Hatim, “is death, which is destined for all men, though no one wishes it.”

When the three questions were thus solved, the lady remained silent for some time, when suddenly she was seized with convulsions so as to fall from her couch. At last a snake, black and frightful, issued from her nostrils and rushed towards Hatim. He seized his scimitar with the intention of cutting it to pieces, but considered that it would be cruelty, to which he was averse: he therefore took out the talisman given him by the bear’s daughter, and threw it at the venomous reptile. The snake became tame as a lamb, and suffered him to hold it in his hands and shut it up in a silver vessel, after which he dug a pit in the ground of the size of a man’s grave, and having buried it, he replaced the earth and secured it with bricks and clay.

In about a watch after, the lady being restored to her senses, observed Hatim, and throwing her veil over her countenance, she said to him, “Stranger, who are you; and how came you to sit here?” He answered, “Have you then forgotten me? I am the traveller whom your people yesterday seized and conducted into your presence.” The governor’s daughter called her nurse, and asked her, “My dear mother, tell me how comes this youth to be here and alive this morning?” The nurse replied, “My child, God is merciful, and took this stranger under his protection; but tell me what is your state?”—“To-day,” she replied, “I feel quite relieved and in perfect health.” The nurse then, addressing Hatim, said, “Most learned of men, can you account to me for this change? Tell me what has occurred in your presence.”—“That,” replied Hatim, “I shall communicate to-morrow to her father.”

Next morning the governor summoned Hatim, and asked him, “Tell me, stranger, what has happened, and how are you alive?” Hatim detailed every circumstance as it occurred, saying, “Noble sir, about the end of the first watch your daughter was seized with a fit of raving madness, and began to utter the most incoherent language. At length her eyes happening to observe me, she said, ‘Rash stranger, how dare you enter my apartment? Your life is over unless you answer my questions.’ She then asked me three questions, one after another, all of which I satisfactorily answered. For some time after she remained silent, when all at once a black serpent issued from her nostrils, and rushed furiously towards me. I seized the reptile, and having shut it up in a silver vessel, I buried it in the court-yard; and since that moment your daughter has enjoyed sound health.”

When the governor heard this statement, he said, “Most noble youth, on you I bestow in marriage this my only child, which is no more than fulfilling the vow that I have made; I therefore hope you will accept her.”—“On one condition,” said Hatim, “will I receive her; that is, whenever I feel inclined to leave this place, I may either leave her here or take her with me and bestow her upon whomsoever I please.” To this the father agreed, and on that very day the marriage was celebrated according to the customs of the country, and the hours were spent in mirth and joy. Hatim remained there three months; after which period he took leave of his wife and departed. He at the same time left orders, saying, “Should my wife ever have a fine boy, and should the child prove himself to be of the tribe of Taï, tell him that his father’s country is in Arabia the happy; and thither let him come whenever he may form the desire of seeing me. If it be a daughter, let her be carefully brought up and married to a worthy man, and should my life be spared I shall yet visit you.”

Hatim kept awake the whole of that night in making preparations, and as soon as morning dawned, set out on his journey to the capital of China. In the course of a few days he arrived in that extensive city, and inquired for the quarter occupied by the linen merchants. The people shewed him the way thither, and when he reached the place he asked of the linen merchants, if they knew the residence of Yusuf the merchant, or whether any of his descendants still lived there. One of the linen merchants immediately went to the grandchildren of Yusuf, and said to them, “There is a stranger arrived from some far country, who is desirous to see you.” Yusuf’s grandsons instantly waited upon Hatim, who to their astonishment thus addressed them: “My friends, I have been commissioned to visit you by your grandfather, from whom I have a message for you.” When the grandchildren of Yusuf and the people of the bazar heard this extraordinary declaration, they laughed most heartily, and said to him in reply, “Truly, young stranger, you are quite crazy. It is a long period since Yusuf died; how then could he have sent you thither with a message?”—“How,” said Hatim, “could I have known that you reside in the linen bazar, and various other circumstances connected with you, had I not received my information from your grandfather? I have further tokens from which I shall prove my veracity if you will hear me; but the question now is, are you willing to listen to me or not?”

The people requested Hatim to proceed with his message, which he thus did: “In a certain apartment, near the bed where Yusuf was wont to sleep, there are buried treasures and jewels, of which none but myself has any information; these you shall bring to light, and divide into four equal portions, of which you shall keep one-fourth, and bestow the other three-fourths in the way which is acceptable to God the Most High, in relieving the wants of the poor and the distressed.” He then detailed to them minutely his late adventure, and having mentioned all that he had witnessed respecting their grandfather, he concluded, saying, “If Yusuf himself had not sent me, how could I have known so much about your house?”

The people said to him, “We cannot proceed further in this affair without applying to our king.” The relatives of Yusuf, therefore, conducted Hatim before the august monarch of China, and being admitted into the royal presence, they represented: “Sire, this youthful stranger asserts that he has seen our grandfather Yusuf, the merchant, by whom he has been commissioned hither with a message for us.” The king on hearing their statement could not refrain from laughter: at last he said to them, “The young man is mad; why, it is nearly one hundred years since old Yusuf, the merchant, died; how then could this stripling have ever seen him? Foolish youth,” continued the king, addressing Hatim, “has it ever been known that the dead held any communication with the living? But you are crazy, and all that I have to say to you is, quit my capital as soon as possible.”

Hatim firmly but respectfully replied, “Most upright king, this is one of the secret dispensations of the Almighty, and is beyond the comprehension of mortals. We believe that martyrs inherit life everlasting; Yusuf, however, when in this world was a miser, for which sin he is now in a state of torment; and should your Highness be pleased to listen seriously to my statement, it will be the means of procuring him salvation. If I be mad, how do I come to possess my information respecting the treasure concealed in Yusuf’s sleeping apartment which I have never seen?” When his Majesty of China heard this reply from Hatim, he desired the latter to state who he was, and how he had become concerned in this strange affair. Hatim related the cause of his journey to the tombs of the martyrs, and what he had there seen, and the state of suffering to which Yusuf was doomed. “I asked him,” said Hatim, “the cause of his misery, which he told me in detailing the particulars of his past life, and also the way in which he is likely to obtain relief. For this reason, Sire, I have journeyed to your capital, and if you believe not my statement, at least let the apartment in which the treasure is hidden be searched: if the gold and jewels be found as I have described them, it will be a proof of my sincerity; but if not, let me be doomed to the severest punishment.”

The king, after some reflection, resolved to search in person the apartment of Yusuf, to which he immediately proceeded, accompanied by Hatim. In the very spot which the latter pointed out, the gold and jewels were found, to the great astonishment of the king. The treasure was divided into four equal portions, one of which was made over to the grandchildren of Yusuf, and the remainder was given in charge to Hatim. “You,” said the king, “seem to be a man of integrity; accept this wealth then, and with your own hand distribute it in charity, after such manner as you deem proper.” Hatim for several days was occupied in his favorite task of relieving the wants of the destitute,—in administering food to the hungry, and in clothing those who were naked.

Having accomplished the object of his journey to the capital of China, Hatim began to make preparations for his return; he had the satisfaction of seeing the grandchildren of Yusuf now raised to a state of affluence and engaged in commerce. He took leave of the monarch, and returning by the way he came, he arrived in the city of Adālatabad, where he was affectionately received by his wife, who was at that time the mother of a boy. Hatim and his friends were extremely delighted on this occasion, and called the son Salim. Shortly after Hatim proceeded on his journey until he came to the desert in which were the tombs of the martyrs; amidst these receptacles of the dead he remained three days waiting the arrival of the eve of Jumat. At the appointed hour all the martyrs, as formerly, rose into life. Among them was Yusuf the merchant, but in a state different from his former condition. At midnight the tables, with food, were placed before them, of which Yusuf now partook. At the same time there appeared a table unoccupied, which was intended for Hatim, who at their request approached, and after the usual salutations, asked Yusuf how he fared.

The merchant replied: “Noble youth, by your humane exertion my condition has been improved, and I am now delivered from my torment; my food and drink are the same as that of the rest, but the thrones on which they sit are more splendid, and the apparel in which they are arrayed is more elegant than mine; on them too are bestowed perfumes, and substances of sweet fragrance, of which my portion is but small; but, alas, their desert is far greater than mine, for when they were in the fetters of human life their hands were ever active in charitable deeds. I, however, after severe penance, have been released from my state of misery; now I am happy and possessed of salvation. You are the means whereby the Almighty has accomplished this end, and on you he will bestow the reward of the righteous.”

Hatim spent the remainder of the night there as formerly, and when the morning dawned he departed. After traversing for several days the mountains and deserts, he came to a spot where he beheld a decrepit old woman sitting by the wayside. When the old woman observed him, she made a piteous appeal to his charity; and Hatim having pulled off a diamond ring from his finger, gave it to her and walked onwards. The old woman then cried out, “May heaven send one or two to aid me”; and in an instant seven young fellows rushed from the desert. Now these seven men were the sons of the old woman, and were notorious robbers in those quarters. The mother shewed them the diamond ring, and assured them that the traveller who gave it must be a man of wealth. The robbers overtook Hatim, and walked peaceably along with him for some space, conversing on various subjects. At last they said to him, “Noble Sir, we are here out of employment, and if you will permit us, it is our wish to accompany you to some city where we may earn our livelihood by service.”

To this request Hatim readily assented; and when the robbers found that he was duped by their false assertions, one of them came behind him, and casting a net over his head, they all seized him and conveyed him to the mouth of a pit which was close by. They stripped him of his clothing, and took possession of all the money and jewels that he had with him; after which they wounded him in several parts of his body with their daggers, and threw him into the pit. For a long time Hatim lay senseless; but as soon as his recollection was restored he searched for his talisman, which the robbers had fortunately left with his turban. The instant he brought it out the pit became quite dry; he then applied it to his wounds, which were speedily healed.

Hatim thus restored to perfect health could not, mild as he was, avoid making the following reflections: “What a trick those cowardly villains have played me! Well, if we should meet again I may give them something which will set their avarice forever at rest.” Occupied with these thoughts he fell into a profound sleep, and in a dream he beheld an aged man, who thus accosted him: “O, Hatim, let not thy heart be cast down. Thinkest thou that Divine Providence has sent thee hither without some wise and unerring design? Listen, and I will tell thee the cause of thy falling into this apparent calamity. In this pit the Creator, bountiful and gracious, hath kept hidden a treasure that is destined for thee. Arise and take possession of it; for thou art capable of employing it in that way which is most acceptable to the bountiful Giver. Let sadness no longer dwell in thy heart; he who is discontent is unfit for the service of God.”

To this mysterious man Hatim replied, “In every state that may befall me, I am always satisfied with the decrees of Providence; and though these may exceed my comprehension, I submit with resignation. Should the sacrifice of my life tend to promote the service of God, I am ready to yield it.”—“I am convinced,” continued the old man, “that thy words are sincere; meanwhile take away this treasure, which is thine.”—“I am alone,” said Hatim; “I cannot even liberate myself from this dungeon; of what use is it then to offer me so vast a treasure?”—“To-morrow,” replied the man, “two persons will pass this way who will set you at liberty; and by their aid you can bring out the treasure and carry it away.”—“It will be impossible for two persons,” said Hatim, “to release me from this prison; and as for the treasure, it is out of the question.”—“The two persons to whom I allude,” replied the man, “are able to accomplish both the one and the other”; and having thus spoken, he vanished, leaving Hatim to the enjoyment of a pleasant dream.

As soon as the morning rays dawned, the two persons arrived at the mouth of the pit, and called out, “Ah! Hatim, are you still alive?” To this he replied, “He who at first created me, hath preserved me.” The two strange beings that addressed him thrust each of them a hand into the pit, which was of immense depth, and to Hatim’s astonishment, their hands reached the bottom where he lay. They called aloud to him to hold fast by their hands, which he did, and in an instant he was set at liberty. Hatim thanked his deliverers, and said to them, “In this pit there are vast treasures of gold and jewels; if you can bring them to light, I will distribute the same in the service of God by relieving the wants of the poor and needy.” On hearing this, one of them threw himself into the pit, and handed up the treasure to the other, who remained outside. In the course of an hour all the hidden stores of the pit were brought up and packed together so as to be easily carried; after which the two took leave of Hatim and departed.

Hatim for some time viewed his treasure, and thus communed with himself: “How can I best dispose of this wealth? If the villains that lately maltreated me were here I should bestow it upon them, that they might for once be satisfied and cease from oppressing their fellow-creatures.” He then selected from the stores a suit of apparel, in which he dressed himself; and having filled a large bag with the most valuable jewels, he departed in quest of the old woman and her seven sons. He had not far advanced when he espied the object of his search, sitting, as formerly by the wayside. On seeing her Hatim was extremely glad, and walking up to her, he put his hand into his bundle and pulled out a handful of the finest jewels, which he scattered around her. The old woman, as formerly, gave the signal to her sons by exclaiming, “May heaven send one or two to aid me”; and forthwith the seven robbers presented themselves, and surrounding Hatim, asked him whither he was journeying. Hatim addressed them thus: “My good friends, I have one request to beg of you, which I hope you will allow me.”

The thieves desired him to speak, whereupon he thus continued: “You hunger and thirst for gold and worldly wealth; abandon your present iniquitous way of life, and withdraw your hands from oppressing your neighbors, and I will enrich you with gold and jewels to such a degree as will satisfy your utmost wishes.” To this exhortation the thieves replied, “Hunger and want have driven us to this avocation; and of course, if you give us all this wealth, we shall speedily abandon a line of life which is hateful to God and oppressive to man.”—“Well,” said Hatim, “repent of your past deeds, and give me your solemn and sincere promise never to transgress in future, and I shall satisfy your wants.”—“But ere we can conscientiously give you this promise,” replied the thieves, “shew us that immense treasure which you are to bestow upon us.” Hatim opened his bag and displayed the treasures which he possessed; on seeing which the thieves unanimously requested him to impose upon them whatever terms he chose. “Swear to me,” said Hatim, “a solemn oath in the following words: ‘Before God the wise and supreme, who observeth and knoweth all things, we promise never to lay our hands on the property of our fellow-creatures, nor henceforth to injure any one; otherwise may the wrath of heaven be upon us, and may our past deeds, of which we sincerely repent, never be forgiven.’”

Hereupon the thieves bound themselves by oath to follow his dictates, and expressed their penitence for their past sins; after which Hatim, having thus reclaimed them from the path of error, divided his treasure among them and departed. Having traversed part of the desert, he espied a dog lolling out his tongue, and exhausted with hunger and thirst. He at once supposed that some caravan, to which the dog belonged, must be at no great distance. When he approached, the poor animal in the most piteous manner seemed to implore his aid. Hatim felt for the misery of every living creature; he therefore lifted the dog in his arms, and carried it with him, in order to restore it with food and drink as soon as he could procure any. He had not long proceeded when he beheld a village at some distance before him, and thither he bent his steps. On his arrival the people presented him with a barley loaf and some curdled milk, the whole of which he gave to the dog. The exhausted animal, thus satisfied with food and drink, fawned on Hatim, as if expressing its sense of his kindness, and then lay down at his feet.

Hatim began to stroke the animal with his hands, and was meditating on the power and wisdom of the Almighty, who created the countless myriads of creatures that fill the universe, each with some characteristic in form and color peculiar to itself, when his hand passing over the head of the dog, he felt some hard substance resembling a horn. He wondered in his own mind what this could mean, “for,” said he, “I never heard of dogs having horns.” He examined it further, and found that an iron nail had been driven into the head of the dog. He drew it out, and instantly the animal assumed the shape of a young man.

Hatim sat for some time in silent abstraction, wondering at the miraculous occurrence which he had just witnessed. At last he addressed the young man, saying, “Tell me, Sir, who are you, and how have you been transformed into the likeness of an irrational animal? From what mysterious cause have you now recovered your proper shape on my removing the nail from your head?” The young man, struck with Hatim’s humane and amiable disposition, and full of gratitude for the service he had just rendered him, bowed his head to the dust as he replied, “Benevolent Sir, suffice it to say that I am of the human race; that by the foulest practice, which I am loth to detail, I was transformed into that shape wherein you lately saw me; and from which, through the Divine favor and your humane attention, I am now delivered.”—“I should like to know,” said Hatim, “if agreeable to you, the cause of your having assumed the shape of a dog.”

The young man, thus requested, proceeded with his own history. “Worthy Sir, I am the son of a merchant. My father, not many years ago, made a journey to the capital of China with a large stock of goods of various kinds, which he there disposed of to great advantage: in return, he supplied himself with the most valuable commodities produced in that country, which on his arrival in Kheta he converted into gold, and thus became immensely rich. As I was his only son, he wished to have me settled in life, and induced me to marry a beautiful young lady. Shortly after my marriage he died, and I became possessed of the whole of his property, and for some time my life passed in perfect felicity. At last my wealth was considerably diminished; I therefore made up an investment at Kheta, and, like my father, made a journey to China, which, of course, forced me to leave my home and country for a considerable period. During my absence, my wife had proved herself on several occasions a wicked woman, and at the same time procured this iron nail from some magicians. At length I returned home, and as soon as sleep overpowered my eyelids, my wife thrust the enchanted nail into my head, and instantly I was transformed into the shape of a dog. She then kicked me out of the house, and when thus driven into the public streets, all the dogs of the city flew at me. Winged with terror, I fled into the desert; and there for three days I had wandered without a morsel of food or a drop of water, until the auspicious hour when God the Supreme sent you to my relief.”

When Hatim heard this wonderful narrative, he for some time held down his head in the lap of reflection, after which he addressed the young man, saying: “My dear friend, pray tell me where is your residence?”—“It is,” said he, “about three days’ journey from this place, in the city of Suri.”—“That city,” rejoined Hatim, “I know well, for there resides Harith the merchant, whose beautiful daughter is so celebrated on account of her three questions. I am just on my return to that city, having found out the solution of her second question, which runs thus: I have done nothing that can be of use to me this night.”—“You speak truly,” replied the young man, “as to Harith and his fair daughter. I know them well, being their fellow-citizen, and I rejoice in the prospect of your company thither.”

Hatim then advised the young man to preserve the magic nail with the utmost care, and as soon as he arrived at his house, to serve his wife as she had him.

* * * *

After the slave had been killed, all received from him presents, and Hatim was for that day detained as his guest, and the hours were spent in pleasure. Next morning Hatim took farewell of the young man, and returning to the caravanseraï, met with the lover of Harith’s daughter. He courteously addressed the youth, whose name was Naīm, and made many inquiries after his condition, to all of which the other replied; adding: “It is now several months since the voice was last heard in the wilderness, and from that circumstance Harith’s daughter is expecting your return crowned with success.”—“Rejoice, my friend,” said Hatim, “for I have really succeeded in procuring the most accurate information respecting the voice in the desert.”

Hatim then made straight for the gate of Harith, and announced his presence to the domestics; who forthwith informed their mistress that the Arabian prince had returned, and waited at her gates. She ordered them to admit him; and on Hatim’s entrance, she eagerly requested to know the result of his adventure, of which he gave her a detail from end to end. “You speak truly,” said the lady in return: “the voice has now ceased to be heard, and you have accomplished my second task: it only remains for you to procure me the Shahmuhra from Mahparí, the king of the fairies.”

Hatim took leave of Harith’s daughter, and returning to the caravanseraï, said to his young friend: “Now I depart in quest of the Shahmuhra.” The youth prostrated himself at Hatim’s feet, and gave vent to his gratitude. Hatim raised him up, and embracing him, said: “Rejoice, my friend, for as soon as I shall, by the aid of God, have accomplished this third task, I shall put you in possession of your beloved.” Hatim left the city of Suri, and placing his reliance upon Divine Providence, set out in quest of the Shahmuhra. After he had advanced a small distance, he sat down to rest under the shade of a tree, not knowing which way to proceed. At length his mind recurred to the cave that led to the world of demons, and he resolved to wait upon Farokash their king, and receive his direction to the abode of Mahparí, assured that the demons could furnish him with the requisite information. He therefore got up, and made for the mouth of the cave, which he entered as formerly, and in the course of a week he reached its further extremity, and issued into the desert by the route previously described. Shortly after the demons flocked around him from all quarters, and recognizing their former visitor, they conducted him to their homes, and vied with each other in their hospitality and attention.

Hatim thus advanced from town to town, till at length his majesty Farokash, hearing of his approach, came out to receive him, and with all honors conducted him to his palace, seated him upon a throne, and presented him with a variety of eatables the most delicious, and in short, testified in every way the pleasure he felt in the meeting. After some time, the king requested to know of Hatim the cause of his visit; to which the latter replied: “Sire, I am on my journey in quest of the Shahmuhra, which is in the possession of Mahparí; in this enterprise may I venture to solicit your aid?”—“Young man,” said Farokash, “you aim at things that are beyond the power of the human race. There is not one of my demon subjects that can enter the dominions of Mahparí and return alive; far less then is it practicable by you, a mere mortal.”—“Sire,” replied Hatim, “the Almighty Power, that has preserved me in your kingdom, will watch over me in the fairy world, and thence conduct me back in safety. In the meantime, may I request your Highness to furnish me with guides, who may shew me the way thither? Otherwise I should wander astray.”—“I wish,” said Farokash, “that you would abandon this absurd enterprise, so inconsistent with reason.”—“How can I,” replied Hatim, “without disgrace relinquish the task which I have undertaken? My word is pledged to accomplish it, and a promise is sacred.”

On hearing this reply Farokash remained silent, as he felt assured that compliance with Hatim’s request would be only hastening his ruin. Three days were spent in discharging the rights of hospitality, after which Hatim addressed the king, and said, “Sire, allow me to depart, for the occasion is urgent: let it not be said that the tormented lover has died in his protracted expectation of me; in such a case I should have become responsible for his death, and what would be my answer before the great Judge? The love-sick youth in whose cause I labor is sincere in heart, and ardent in his affection; his life depends on my successful exertions, and my failure would be the cause of his death.”

The king of the demons summoned a few of his subjects and gave them instructions to the following effect: “You shall conduct this young stranger to the boundaries of Mahparí’s dominions, and remain there until his return, if such be his fate.” The demons lifted Hatim on their shoulders, and with the speed of the wind began to traverse the wide-spreading desert. In the course of a month they arrived at the confines of fairy-land, where the demons halted, and addressing Hatim, said, “We are now in sight of the mountain Kaf, and here begin the territories of Mahparí, within which we dare not enter; for close upon the limits of that mountain are stationed thousands of fairies ready to destroy us.”

Hatim took leave of the demons, and fearlessly passed the bounds of the fairy regions, and from day to day approached nearer the mountain whose top seemed to pierce the skies and whose sides abounded with green trees in endless variety. When he arrived at the base of the mountain the fairies assembled from all sides, and said one to another: “Here comes one of Adam’s race whom we must instantly put to death, as he has the hardihood to approach this mountain.” The fairies hereupon rushed to the base of the mountain, and laying hold of Hatim, carried him up, and when they had bound his hands and feet with chains, they asked him, “Tell us, mortal, whence come you? what is your business? and who has conducted you hither?”—“I come,” said Hatim, “from the city of Suri, under the guidance of my Creator.”—“Pray,” said the fairies to him, “are you come at the request of the daughter of Harith, the merchant?” Hatim reflected in his own mind, “Now if I tell them the truth, and say that I am come in quest of the Shahmuhra, they will assuredly destroy me; and if I speak falsely it will be unworthy of me, having never done so in my life; in this case, then, silence is the best policy.”

Meanwhile the fairies came to the resolution of casting him into the fire, “For,” said they, “he is in all probability come for the Shahmuhra.” They quickly heaped together piles of dried wood, to which they set fire, and throwing Hatim into the midst of it, they all set up a loud shout of laughter, and there left him. Hatim, remembering his Maker, took into his mouth the talisman of the bear’s daughter, which rendered him completely proof against fire. For three days he remained in that state, after which period he came out without even a thread of his garment being burnt.

Hatim had no sooner made his escape than he was again seized and bound by the fairies, who thus addressed him: “Three days since a man very like you fell into our hands, and we cast him into the fire, and burnt him; pray are you that individual, or some one else of the human race?”—“O, you troop of simpletons,” replied Hatim, “assuredly, such fools as you are never will exist; if, as you say, you burnt that individual, how do you imagine that he should be again alive? But the truth is, the Almighty has preserved me amidst the burning flames.” The fairies, on hearing this, again threw Hatim into the fire, from which, after a considerable time, he coolly walked out unhurt; a third time they repeated the experiment, and at length becoming convinced that he was not to be destroyed by burning, they carried him to the shore of the salt sea, and cast him into the midst of the deep, and there, leaving him to his fate, they departed.

Whilst Hatim was cutting his way by swimming amidst the billows of the ocean, a large nihang (sea-serpent) happened to espy him. This monster rushed upon him, and in an instant swallowed him alive. Hatim, thus rescued from drowning, on coming to his senses attempted to stand up and move about, whereby the sea-serpent became so desperately annoyed that he darted towards the shore, and with great exertion succeeded in disgorging him on dry land, after which he plunged into the deep.

Hatim in that spot lay, helpless and exhausted with hunger and thirst, for the space of two days and nights, after which time he rose up, and wandered he knew not whither, until he found himself in the midst of a wilderness of sand. Here he continued to stray till a troop of fairies happened to observe him; these immediately surrounded him, and said, one to another, “Here is a mortal man, how can he have come hither?” Addressing Hatim, they said to him, “You seem to be of the human race, pray who brought you into our territory?”—“The merciful Creator,” replied Hatim, “first conducted me into your dominions, but since my arrival I have been cast into the sea, and swallowed by a monstrous nihang, from whose inside I was ejected two days ago. I am now exhausted with hunger; if you have any compassion within you, let me have something to eat, and water to quench my thirst.”

To this reply the fairies rejoined, “We dare not administer to you even a drop of water, for our king has strictly ordered us to slay every one of the race of men or demons that may come in our way; if we, therefore, delay a moment in putting you to death, the wrath of his Majesty will overtake us.” Here one of the fairies said to his companions, “Where is our king, and where are we?[9] This wretched being is not come hither of his own accord! God is merciful! You know not from what distance he may have been brought by the nihang, and his being found here is accidental, as it was natural he should make an effort to preserve his life. He is one of the human race too, and our superior, nay, the noblest of the sublunary creation; let us convey him to our abodes, and afford him kind treatment.”—“But,” said the rest of the fairies, “if we spare him, and our king hear of it, his Majesty will put us to death.” On hearing this discussion Hatim addressed them, saying, “My friends, if it is your duty and interest to slay me, I am quite resigned without further dispute.”

That fairy, however, who spoke in his favor still held out, saying, “My worthy companions, our king is far distant, even seven days’ journey hence; and who among us is likely to turn informer?” In short, they all at last agreed to spare Hatim’s life; whereupon they carried him to their dwellings, and gave him food to eat, and fruits and water to quench his thirst, so that in a short time he perfectly recovered. The fairies, charmed with Hatim’s gracefulness and eloquence, crowded around him, and felt the greatest pleasure in listening to his conversation; they daily supplied him with food the most delicious, and fruits the most refreshing, and spent their whole time in his society. In a few days Hatim became a universal favorite, so that he ventured to ask their leave to depart, in order to accomplish his enterprise. “Pray tell us,” said they, “what is your business here, and what brought you into our world?” Hatim told them without reserve: “The demon subjects of Farokash conducted me as far as your boundaries, beyond which they durst not penetrate. As soon as I entered your dominions, the fairies that guard your coasts laid hold of me, and three times did they cast me into the burning flames, but from all their evil designs the hand of the Creator protected me; they afterwards threw me into the sea, from which I escaped as I have already told you.”—“And pray,” asked they, “what business have you so important, that you undergo such toils and perils for its accomplishment?”—“My business,” replied Hatim, “is with Mahparí.”—“Beware, frail man,” said the fairies, “how you speak of Mahparí; we are his subjects, and he has enjoined us not to suffer a man or demon to enter his dominions; should he hear of our affording you an asylum, he would instantly slay us all.”

In answer Hatim said: “If it is our destiny to enjoy longer life, no one can slay us; and if you are afraid of the consequence, you can bind me hand and foot, and carry me as a captive into the presence of your king.”—“What you propose,” rejoined they, “is utterly absurd; you have already shared of our hospitality; you and we have eaten salt together[10]; do you imagine, then, that we can deliver you up to certain destruction?”—“Be under no hesitation,” replied Hatim, “on account of any danger that threatens me, for it is my resolution to have an audience of Mahparí as soon as possible; therefore convey me thither at all risks.” The fairies were sadly perplexed on hearing Hatim’s mad design, and deliberated amongst themselves what was best to be done in the case. At length they resolved to detain him as prisoner, and in the meantime despatch a messenger to learn the king’s pleasure regarding him, and act accordingly. One of the fairies was immediately sent to his Majesty, with instructions thus to address him: “Sire, we have just seized on the sea-shore one of the human race, who is now our captive; if such be your royal pleasure, we are ready to conduct him into your august presence.”

The messenger departed, and in the course of seven days arrived at the fairy court, and having received an audience, thus delivered his message: “Sire, your subjects, who guard the shores of the sea of Kulzum[11], have there taken captive one of the human race, and I have been despatched hither to know your pleasure respecting him.” Mahparí ordered the man to be carefully conveyed to his presence, in order that he might himself examine him with regard to his journey to fairy-land. The messenger immediately returned, and after an absence of two weeks arrived at his own residence, and stated that it was his Majesty’s pleasure to have Hatim brought into his presence. On hearing this, the fairies without delay made preparations for conveying their prisoner to court. Meanwhile the report was rapidly spread through the country, that one of the human race was being brought to the capital. One of his Majesty’s grandees, by name Masnapari, had a beautiful daughter called Husnapari, whose heart was restless and full of curiosity. This fairy damsel said to her companions: “I hear that a man has somehow entered our king’s dominions, and is now on his way to the capital; I wish it were possible for me to see what he is like: they tell me that mankind are beautiful in countenance and graceful in form.” The attendants of Husnapari expressed their readiness to aid her in gratifying her wish; and at the same time observed to her, “Fair lady, you must take your station by the wayside as this man passes, for after he is brought before the king it will be impossible to see him.”—“But,” said Husnapari, “how can I leave my father’s house? on what pretence shall I get out?” After consideration, her youthful companions suggested that she should ask leave of her parents to be allowed to walk in the gardens for some days. Husnapari, delighted with this stratagem, went to her mother, and said, “My dear mother, give me your permission to go out and enjoy for some days the fragrance of the fields and the delights of the garden.”—“Obtain your father’s permission, my child,” replied the mother, “and I am satisfied.”

In short, Husnapari received her father’s leave, and attended by her fair and youthful companions, went to the garden, where she was allowed to remain for forty days. On her way thither, she further consulted her friends as to the speediest means of seeing Hatim, the main object of her journey. They told her that those who guarded the sea of Kulzum were conducting the man from that quarter. On hearing this, Husnapari and her companions, instead of proceeding to the garden, swiftly transported themselves to the shores of Kulzum, where they arrived in the space of three days, just at the moment when the fairies were about to depart with Hatim.

Husnapari, observing the numerous assemblage on the sea-shore, halted with her train at some distance, and sent one of her attendants to inquire who they were. The messenger soon returned, and informed her that these were the guardians of the shores of Kulzum, and that they were about to convey the man to the king’s presence. “I myself,” continued the messenger, “saw this flower of Adam’s race, as he sat on the sea-shore; his face was beautiful, and his hair waved in graceful ringlets. His form was elegant as the moon in her fourteenth night.”

When Husnapari heard this description of Hatim’s beauty and perfection, her desire to see him was greatly increased. She said to her fairy train: “Alas! when am I to behold with my own eyes this lovely being?”—“Let us watch them in the meantime from a distance,” said her companions; “and when they shall have halted for the night, perhaps we shall be able to carry off the man when his guards fall asleep.” In short, the fairies of Kulzum set out with their prisoner, and in a few days approached the garden of Husnapari, within a furlong of which they halted for the night. When half the night had elapsed, a select few of Husnapari’s attendants, who were proficients in magic, approached the guards, and overpowering their eyelids with sleep, cast a charm over the eyes of Hatim so that he fell into a profound slumber, and then they carried him into the presence of their mistress.

The instant Husnapari beheld him, her heart was enamoured of his beauty. She lifted him in her arms, sleeping as he was, and carried him herself into her own garden. When Hatim awoke, and looked around him, he was surprised at finding himself surrounded by fairy damsels of surpassing beauty, in the midst of a garden green and fragrant as that of Iram. He addressed the fair assemblage, and said: “Tell me, who are you, and who has brought me hither?” The fairest of the troop replied, “This is the garden of Masnapari, a fairy of exalted rank, and I am his daughter. My name is Husnapari. When the news of your arrival in our dominions became divulged, my ardent desire to behold your form overcame my prudence; for which reason my attendants brought you hither when asleep.” Hatim rejoined: “Now that you have gained your wish, may I request that you will aid me in the accomplishing of my enterprise?”—“How can I serve you?” replied the beautiful fairy. “The object of my coming into your country,” said Hatim, “is to get possession of the Shahmuhra.”—“Your journey is to little purpose,” replied Husnapari, “for no living creature can get the Shahmuhra from the hands of the fairy king; stay with me, then, for my heart has been yours since the moment I first saw you.”—“I will comply with your request,” said Hatim, “if you procure for me the Shahmuhra.”—“I repeat to you,” rejoined the fairy, “that I cannot—no creature can, by force or stratagem, get possession of the Shahmuhra. But I know that you are destined to acquire this treasure, so you may rest satisfied.” In fine, Husnapari detained Hatim in her garden, where both of them experienced uninterrupted happiness.

When the guards awoke from their slumbers, and found no trace of Hatim, they began to search for him in all directions, but to no purpose. They then held a consultation on what was best to be done. Most of them believed that Hatim had made his escape, and could not as yet be far off, while others suggested that probably some youthful fairy, enamoured of his beauty, had stolen him during the night. “But what shall we do?” said they to one another; “if the king should hear of this affair, he will flay us alive.” They resolved to keep the affair in secrecy, and in the meantime to make the strictest search. If the man should be found, they were to conduct him before the king as if nothing had happened; and if not, they considered it safest to absent themselves.

After a considerable period had thus elapsed, Mahparí becoming impatient, said to his courtiers, “Can you tell me the reason why this man has not yet made his appearance? I must make further inquiries concerning him.” His Majesty immediately despatched to the guardians of the shores of Kulzum a messenger, who received as an answer from them, “It is now a considerable time since we sent our prisoner to the capital, escorted by a guard of soldiers; of these we have heard nothing since, nor can we conjecture what is the cause of their delay.” The messenger conveyed this information to the king, who being exceedingly wroth, ordered his troops to scour the country in search of the delinquents, and find out what they had done with the man.

Agreeably to his commands, emissaries were sent in all directions, and not long after one of Hatim’s escort was seized and carried to the capital. Mahparí threatened him with the severest punishment, unless he told truly what had become of the man whom they had in charge. The fairy guard with trembling voice replied, “Spare my life, O king, and I will tell truly all that I know respecting the man.”—“Speak the truth, then,” said the king, “otherwise you shall die.” The guard proceeded: “Sire, we received the man in charge, and for several days journeyed with him towards the foot of your throne. It happened, as we halted for the night in a certain spot near a garden, that we were all overpowered with sleep, and when we awoke the man was nowhere to be seen. It is certain that some one must have stolen him from us, for he would not have gone of his own accord, as he frequently expressed his most ardent desire to have an interview with your Majesty. It is most likely, then, that some of the fairy damsels on seeing him, became enamoured of his person, for verily he is of rare beauty and gracefulness, and contrived to carry him off while we were asleep. Next morning, when we awoke and missed our charge, we fled in all directions, from fear of your Majesty’s wrath; and this is the whole truth.”

On hearing this statement, Mahparí ordered the culprit’s life to be spared, and contented himself by detaining him prisoner, until such time as the man should be found. Meanwhile he sent forth his servants, with orders to search every corner within fairy-land until they discovered Hatim. It happened about three months after, that one of the escort from Kulzum entered unobserved the garden of Masnapari, and having concealed himself in a corner, saw the beautiful fairy and Hatim walking hand in hand amidst the flowers. He instantly recognized the object of his search, and leaving his hiding-place, he boldly presented himself amidst the fairy troop, saying, “Most foolish damsels, you are aware that the king has ordered this man to be brought into his presence, whither we were conducting him; and yet you had the boldness to carry him off by stratagem. If you value your lives, surrender him into my charge, otherwise death and degradation await you.”

On hearing this address, Husnapari, instigated by fear and resentment, said to her attendants, “How durst you, without my permission, admit a stranger into the garden? Seize the villain, let him be severely punished, and for the remainder of his life confined in fetters.” The spy with the utmost activity bounded off as they were about to lay hold of him, and fled beyond their reach. With all speed he made for the capital, and on his arrival blackened his face, and taking his station at the palace gate, stated that he had a complaint to lay before the king. His Majesty was pleased to admit him, and inquired, “Why hast thou blackened thy face? Tell me who has injured thee?”—“Sire,” replied the spy, “my complaint is against the beautiful daughter of Masnapari. I am one of those who formed the escort of the Arabian prince from Kulzum, and while we were conducting our charge hither agreeably to your Majesty’s order, this damsel, whose name is Husnapari, contrived to steal him from us by night, and since then she has detained him in her father’s garden. I happened to discover the circumstance, and demanded of her the man as my prisoner. Enraged, she threatened me with severe punishment and confinement for life. I fortunately made my escape, and hastened to lay my information before your Majesty.”

When the sovereign of the fairy realms heard this intelligence his anger was extreme. He instantly despatched his commander-in-chief, accompanied by thirty thousand troops, with orders to seize Masnapari, and make him responsible for his daughter’s conduct. When Masnapari beheld this formidable array drawn up around his mansion, he was perplexed, and addressing the commander, said, “For what purpose are these forces? In what respect have I incurred his Majesty’s displeasure?”—“Pray sir,” said the commander, “where is your daughter?”—“For some months past,” replied the other, “she has been enjoying the delights of our garden in the country.”—“Wretched being!” rejoined the commander, “I pity your case; be it known to you, that your daughter has privately conveyed into that garden the man whom the sentinels of Kulzum found upon their coast. This is the cause of the king’s resentment towards you.”

When the mother of Husnapari heard this statement, pale with fear she hastened to the garden, where she found her daughter seated on a bed of flowers and engaged in conversation with Hatim. The enraged mother struck Husnapari on the head, saying, “Abandoned one! you have caused the ruin of your family. The king’s troops have surrounded our dwelling in quest of this man, whom you have chosen for your lover.” Husnapari, surprised and terrified at these tidings, stood motionless, and her beautiful countenance assumed the hue of death. The mother immediately gave her daughter and Hatim in charge to the commander of the troops; and she herself, with the whole of her relations, was ordered to follow to the capital.

In the course of three days they arrived at the king’s palace, where the commander informed his Majesty that Masnapari was in attendance to plead his own cause, and that his daughter, and the prince of Yemen her lover, were now at hand to be disposed of as his Majesty might deem proper. Mahparí ordered, in the first place, that the father should be brought before him. Masnapari entered, and making a low obeisance, said, “Sire, I swear by your Majesty’s salt, which I have so often tasted, that I knew nothing of the transaction. I have come, however, obedient to your commands, accompanied by my family, and all of us are ready to undergo whatever be the decree of your Majesty.”—“Enough,” said the king, “you are innocent, and are accordingly forgiven; let us now examine the man who has caused this trouble.”

The attendants immediately introduced Hatim, and placed him before the king. When Mahparí beheld his noble form and fair countenance, all his resentment towards him vanished, and having seated Hatim beside him, he began to converse with him, and said, “You are a bold youth to enter our dominions; may I ask what is the cause of your journey hither?”—“Sire,” replied Hatim, “I had heard much of your Majesty, and of your heavenly realms, from Farokash the king of the demons, so that I felt an irresistible desire of visiting your country, and of tendering you my humble services, whatever might be the risk.”—“Who,” asked the king, “were your guides hither?”—“The subjects of Farokash,” said Hatim. “Know you,” continued the fairy king, “whether there be among the demons any learned and expert physician?”—“From what I have there observed,” replied Hatim, “I believe the subjects of Farokash have no skill in physic; but may I ask, what occasion has your Highness for a physician?”—“I shall tell you in good time,” said Mahparí, “for after all you may be able to serve me, as the human race are allowed to be the noblest and most skilful of the creation, and from their superior wisdom they are enabled to hold under their control the regions of the fairies and demons, as was the case with Solomon, on whom be peace.”—“Well,” said Hatim, “may I presume to ask, what would your Majesty with a physician?”

Mahparí, in a voice of sorrow, replied: “I have a son who is the admiration of the world, accomplished in every art and science that adorn the mind, matchless in the beauty and elegance of his form, and beside him I have no other child. He has been lately seized with a pain in his eyes, which constantly flow with water, so intense that he his now quite blind; nor does he experience a moment’s relief. If you can procure me a learned leech who may succeed in restoring him his sight, I shall ever remain grateful for your kindness.”—“May I ask,” said Hatim, “what reward will your Highness bestow on that physician who may be the means of curing the prince?”—“I will give him whatever he asks,” replied the king. “Agreed,” said Hatim; “I myself will undertake on these terms to restore the prince to perfect health.” The king then took Hatim by the hand, and solemnly swore to abide by his promise; and as it now waxed late, they agreed to retire to rest.

Hatim was ushered into a splendid apartment, while troops of fairies attended him to execute his commands. They presented him with every sort of food and a variety of delicious fruits, with cool water pure as crystal. When the morning dawned the fairy king conducted Hatim to the apartment of his son, who lay stretched upon the bed of restlessness. Hatim took out the talisman presented him by the bear’s daughter, and having dipped it in pure water, applied the liquid to the prince’s eyes. In the course of the day he obtained some relief, and the pain was greatly alleviated, but his sight was not yet in the least restored. Mahparí, with the anxiety of a parent, watched the progress of the cure, and addressing Hatim, said, “Most learned man, the eyes are indeed cured of the pain which they suffered; but alas! the vision I fear is forever lost.” After a little reflection, Hatim said, “Sire, there is a tree that grows amidst the shades of Zulmât[12], which is called the naudar: from this tree distils a liquid of rare qualities, of which if even a single drop could be procured, it would be the means of restoring the prince’s sight.” When Mahparí heard this, he addressed his fairy subjects, saying: “Is there one among you who has the courage to enter the regions of Zulmât, and bring me a vial full of the juice of the naudar?” The fairies with downcast looks listened to this proposal, and replied, “The vales of Zulmât abound with demons the very scent of whom we cannot endure; and besides, being our enemies, they would not leave one of us alive were we to venture thither.” The king, well aware of this fact, held down his head in grief, when Husnapari respectfully approached him, and said, “If my lord the king will forgive my past transgressions, and again restore to me the prince of Yemen, I will endeavor to find out the tree in question.”

Mahparí, delighted, said to her in return, “Fair lady, I heartily forgive your pranks; nay, on receiving an explanation from your father, I extended my full pardon to you all; but so far as regards the prince of Yemen, I have no control over him; he is entirely at his own disposal.” Hatim then addressed the beautiful fairy, saying, “Noble lady, if it is your wish that I should dwell with you during the whole of my life, it is more than I can by any means promise you; but if you will be satisfied with my remaining in your society only during my own pleasure, and having full liberty to depart when I think proper, then I sincerely promise not to deceive you.” The beautiful fairy replied, in the accents of love, “Alas! I can lay no claim to your affections, but say you will stay with me for at least a few days. My time shall be wholly spent in the enjoyment of your society; and when I shall have sufficiently admired you, then your departure will be in your own choice.”—“Enough,” said Hatim, “for the present; lose no time in the accomplishment of your dangerous enterprise.”

Husnapari, accompanied with seven thousand fairy troops, immediately set out upon her journey; and so swiftly did she wing her course, that all her convoy were left far in the rear. In the space of forty days she entered the regions of darkness and arrived at the tree of naudar, the top of which seemed to pierce the skies. From its trunk flowed a liquid white as milk and sweet as honey. She caught the drops in her vial as they fell, and when it was filled she carefully sealed it up, and began to retrace her steps from the dreary abode. Meanwhile a host of demons, many thousand in number, who acted as guards of the tree of naudar, observed the beautiful fairy as she was returning, and immediately pursued her. Husnapari increased her speed, and fled swiftly as the bird that flies for its life. The demons followed fast for the space of four farasangs, when finding that they were losing ground, they returned to their haunts.

Forty days later the beautiful fairy arrived at the court of her sovereign, and presenting to his Majesty the vial containing the precious elixir, she detailed the events of her journey. The king was boundless in his gratitude, and exalted her into the rank of the most select in his household. Hatim dipped his talisman into the elixir, and applied a few drops of it to the eyes of the prince, which still continued shut. At the end of eight days he repeated the process, and a complete cure ensued. When the prince again beheld the faces of his father and mother, his joy was unbounded. Grateful, he prostrated himself at the feet of Hatim, who speedily raised him to his bosom, saying, “Let thy thanks be rendered unto God.”

In the meantime the fairy king offered for Hatim’s acceptance treasures to such an extent as would defy calculation. Hatim, after expressing his sense of the king’s bounty, said, “Sire, this vast wealth is useless to me unless your subjects conduct me to the dominions of Farokash, and convey the treasures thither.” To this Mahparí readily assented; whereupon Hatim rejoined: “Sire, I value not gold and jewels; all I wish from your Majesty is the fulfilment of the agreement which you were pleased to make with me, that I should receive from you whatever I asked.”—“State your wish,” replied Mahparí, “and you shall not be disappointed.”—“Give me then,” said Hatim, “the Shahmuhra which adorns your hand.”

The fairy king, on hearing this request, silently held down his head, and after some time said, “I see how it is; the daughter of Harith the merchant has sent you hither in quest of the Shahmuhra.”—“True, sire,” replied Hatim, “and I on my part have undertaken to procure it for her.”—“Well,” continued the king, “I will strictly abide by my promise, but the daughter of Harith shall never possess this treasure.” Hatim suggested that as soon as he had acquitted himself of his task, the Shahmuhra might possibly be returned. At this suggestion the king unfixed the Shahmuhra from his arm and fastened it on that of Hatim, who immediately perceived its rare qualities; for he had no sooner placed it on his arm than all the treasures of gold and precious stones concealed within the bosom of the earth were clearly displayed to his eyes; nor was he at any loss to discover the reason why Harith’s daughter so eagerly desired the possession of this key of wealth.

Mahparí summoned into his presence three of his most cunning magicians, and gave them instructions to this effect: “When this man shall have delivered the Shahmuhra to Harith’s daughter, and she in consequence accepts her lover in marriage, you shall transport yourselves thither, and after she has had it ten days in her possession, bring it back to me.” Hatim then took leave of the fairy king, and proceeded to the residence of Husnapari, with whom he spent three months in the enjoyment of every happiness. At length he bade adieu to the beautiful lady, and accompanied by the fairies, of whom some carried his treasures and others conveyed himself in a litter, he left the capital, and in a few days reached the territories of Farokash. When arrived at the line of separation between the two regions, the fairies left him, and the demons, who had previously been his guides, and had remained there during his absence in fairy-land, took him up and conveyed him with his treasures to their own capital. Hatim had an interview with Farokash, who received him with the utmost kindness and hospitality. Next day he continued his homeward journey, and, by his former route through the cave, in the course of time arrived safe in the city of Suri.

Hatim immediately on his arrival sought out the lover Naim, on whom he bestowed all the wealth which he had brought from fairy-land. The youth accepted the costly treasures with a profusion of thanks, after which, Hatim waited on Harith’s daughter and presented her with the Shahmuhra. The lady, on receiving this treasure, was filled with delight, and said to Hatim, “Now, peerless hero, I am yours.”—“Pardon me,” replied Hatim, “if I reject your offer; you know what anguish the youthful Naim has been suffering for years on your account; him therefore you shall accept as your husband.” The lady said, “I am entirely at your disposal.” The father and the lover were immediately sent for, and Hatim made them join hands as father and son. The marriage contract was drawn up and agreed to, the love-sick Naim was blessed in the possession of his mistress, and Hatim was pleased with what he had himself done. In the course of ten days, the Shahmuhra mysteriously disappeared from the lady’s hand, whereupon her grief and lamentation were excessive. Hatim earnestly endeavored to console her, saying, “Lady, you have in your possession such treasures of gold and jewels as will be amply sufficient for your posterity, even unto the seventh generation; why then should you not be content?”

Hatim shortly after took leave of his friends in Suri, and betook himself seriously to the attainment of the object of his journey, viz., the solution of Husn Banu’s second question. He travelled through many a stage without success, till at length he arrived on the banks of a large river. There he beheld a lofty mansion built of stone, over the door of which was written, “Do good and cast it into the river.” On seeing this motto, Hatim devoutly thanked the Ruler of events, and said, “I have now reached the object of my desire.” While he was in this contemplation a crowd of attendants issued forth, and conducted him into the house. There he beheld seated upon a throne a venerable man, whose age amounted to a hundred years. On Hatim’s entrance, the aged sire rose up and courteously received him; after which, he presented him with food and drink of various descriptions.

When Hatim had appeased his hunger and allayed his thirst, he said to his entertainer, “Venerable sir, pray what is the meaning of the motto which is written above your door?”—“Young stranger,” replied the aged man, “listen to my tale, which will explain it. In the prime of my life I was a daring robber, and lived by plundering my fellow-creatures. But every day, when I rested from my sinful avocation, I used to bake two large loaves, the ingredients of which I mixed with sweet-oil and sugar. Two such loaves I daily threw into the river, saying, ‘This I give away to propitiate the favor of heaven.’ A considerable period had thus passed, when one day I was seized with sickness so violent that my soul seemed to quit my body. Methought a man seized me by the hand, and pointing out to me the way to the infernal regions, said, ‘There is the place destined for thee.’ While he was on the point of hurling me into the midst of the condemned, two youths divinely fair in countenance and angelic in form came to my rescue. These were my guardian angels. They laid hold of me, one by each arm, and said, ‘We will not permit this man to be utterly destroyed in his wickedness; sinful as he has been, his future station is in paradise, and thither we will convey him.’

“They swiftly wafted me to the regions of the blessed, where an angel of exalted rank stood up and asked them, ‘Why have you brought this man? A hundred years of his life are yet to pass; but there is another of the same name whom you were commissioned to bring.’ The two angels who had carried me to the gates of paradise, again brought me back to my own house, and said to me at parting, ‘We are the two loaves[13] which you used to cast into the river for fishes to feed on, as a service acceptable to the Almighty.’ When I recovered from my trance, I rose up and fled for refuge into the threshold of divine mercy, exclaiming in the voice of supplication, ‘Gracious God! thou art merciful, and I am a sinful creature. I repent of all my evil deeds, which I committed in the depravity of my heart. To thy gates I flee for protection. Spare me, merciful Creator, and from thy secret stores of grace bestow upon me that which is meet for me.’

“When my health was restored, I prepared the two loaves as formerly, and went with them to the side of the river, in order to cast them upon the waters. On the shore I found a hundred dinars, which I took up and carried with me to the village. I there caused it to be publicly proclaimed, that if any person had lost a sum of money, he should obtain the same from me. None came forward to claim the money; I therefore laid it aside, in hopes that the real owner of it might some day appear. Next day, when I went to the river-side, according to my usual mode, I threw my two loaves into the water; and another sum of a hundred dinars made its appearance on the shore. I took the money home with me. In the same way it happened to me for ten successive days. On the eve of the eleventh day, as I was asleep, a man appeared to me in the visions of the night, saying, ‘Servant of the Almighty, thy two loaves have pleaded thy cause in heaven, and the merciful Creator has forgiven thy sins. The dinars which thou receivest are for thy competency; what is not necessary for thine own support, bestow in charity upon the poor.’

“I awoke from my dream and betook myself to prayer, and rendered my thanks to the bountiful Giver. I have since built this mansion, on the door of which I have written the motto that has attracted your attention. Every day I receive the sum of a hundred dinars on the shore of the river; and I occupy myself in giving it away in charity, in feeding the hungry, the poor, and the helpless stranger. Nearly a hundred years of my life still remain, and this, young stranger, is my history.”

When Hatim heard this wonderful account of the aged man, he devoutly expressed his sense of the divine mercy. After having stayed a few days, he took leave of his venerable entertainer, and began to retrace his way to Shahabad. Having travelled a considerable distance he came to a desert, where he beheld underneath a tree two serpents in deadly contest: the one was black and loathsome, the other beautiful and graceful to view: but the black snake had the advantage in the struggle, and was on the point of killing the other. Hatim speedily approached, and raised a shout that terrified the black serpent, which let go its victim and fled. The serpent of beautiful color being quite powerless, remained beneath the tree, looking gratefully at Hatim. The latter observing this, addressed the white snake, saying, “Fear nothing from me, I will here watch over you till you are recovered.” In the course of a few hours the serpent began to move slowly round the tree, which being done it assumed the form of a beautiful young man.

Hatim stood wrapt in astonishment, when the youth addressing him, said, “My good friend, I am of the race of the genii, and the son of their king. The black snake which you saw is my father’s slave who bears deadly hatred towards me. To-day he happened to find the time fitting, and having transformed himself and me into serpents, he was about to slay me, when God the Supreme sent you to my relief.” On hearing this Hatim rejoined, “As you are now recovered, proceed to your abode without delay: as for me I have affairs of moment.” The genius replied, “My residence is not far hence; if you will deign to honor me with a visit, nothing could be more agreeable to me.” In short, the prince of the genii conducted Hatim to his troops, and under their convoy proceeded to his palace. There he rested for the night, reclined upon a throne, and was charmed with the most melodious music. Next day he was offered the richest treasures of gold and jewels, which he rejected, saying that such things had no value in his sight. As he was about to depart from this hospitable mansion, the genii caught the base slave who had attempted to kill the prince; and having dragged him to the place of execution, they put him to death in Hatim’s presence.

Hatim took his leave of the genii, and continued his journey till he arrived in Shahabad. He went straight to the caravanseraï, where he was joyfully received by Munir, the Syrian prince. Husn Banu’s people in the meantime conveyed to their mistress the news of Hatim’s arrival. She next day sent for him, and said, “Brave youth, this time you have been long absent; pray have you attained the object of your journey or not?”—“Praised be God,” said Hatim, “I have been quite successful.” He then detailed to Husn Banu all that he had witnessed since his departure, and particularly the history of the aged man on the banks of the river. When Husn Banu heard this wonderful adventure, she looked towards her nurse, who said, “The youth speaks truly: your second question is solved.”

Food and drink were then called for, of which Hatim and the prince of Syria partook; the former assuring the latter that through divine aid he would accomplish the solution of the remaining questions. Three days were spent in discharging the rites of hospitality, at the expiration of which Hatim waited upon Husn Banu, saying, “Now, fair lady, let me hear your third question, that I may endeavor to solve it.”—“There is a man,” replied Husn Banu, “who says from experience, ‘Injure no one; if you do, evil will befall you.’ Find out where that man lives, what injury he has done, and what evil has befallen him.”

BOOK III.

Hatim’s journey to the desert and city of Himyar—His interview with Hamīr, and his return to the city of Shahabad.

The historians have informed us, that when Hatim set out on his journey from Shahabad he had not the least idea in what direction he ought to proceed. All he knew of the man in question was, that he dwelt in the city of Himyar; he therefore placed his reliance upon divine Providence, and continued his route to the north. When a month had thus passed, the summit of a mountain appeared in the distant horizon. Thither Hatim directed his steps, and when he arrived at the foot of the mountain, he heard a voice loudly exclaiming: “Come, oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence.”

Hatim ascended the mountain till he saw a wide-spreading and shady tree, underneath which was placed a sofa formed of marble. On the sofa reclined a young man fair of countenance, holding in his hand a branch of the tree, and his eyes shut as it were in a state of abstraction, exclaiming, at short intervals, “Come, oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence.” When Hatim saw him, he wondered within himself how a human being could have taken up his residence in such a solitary spot: he therefore resolved to ask him the cause of his sorrow. He went close to the youth, and said, “Friend, tell me the nature of your grief.” The young man continued in a state of listlessness without taking the least notice of Hatim’s inquiry, but uttered again the words above given. Hatim once more addressed him, but received no reply; and then, he for the third time asked him, saying, “Strange youth, surely you are deaf; thrice have I requested to know the cause of your sorrow, and you have returned me no answer: am I not to be considered by you as a man, and a servant of the Almighty?” The youth opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, said to him, “My friend, whence come you; what is your business with me, and what is the subject of your inquiries?”—“You and I,” replied Hatim, “are of the same species; perhaps I may be able to contribute to your relief.”—“Alas!” rejoined the other, “many a one like you has come here, and having teased me with questions respecting my condition, has abandoned me; but no one has hitherto made any effort to relieve me: may I then request that you will go your way?” Hatim still persevered, saying, “As you have told your tale to so many, I beg for heaven’s sake, that you will let me hear it.”—“Sit down then for a moment,” said the young man, “till I relate to you my history.”

Hatim reclined beneath the shade of the tree, and the youth proceeded with his tale: “I am a merchant. Once I was journeying with my caravan towards the empire of Rūm, and at a certain spot on the road near this mountain I desired my attendants to move onwards, while I remained admiring the surrounding scenery, after which I should soon overtake them. My caravan accordingly proceeded, and I began to climb the mountain; but the higher I went, the greater became my desire to reach its summit. At length I stopped to rest underneath this tree; when, lo! a damsel unparalleled in beauty of countenance and elegance of form, presented herself to my view. The moment I beheld this ravisher of hearts, reason abandoned my soul; and I fell senseless on the ground. The moon-faced damsel approached me, and raising my head upon her lap, besprinkled my face with rose-water of sweet fragrance. When I returned to my senses, and found my head reclining upon the lap of this Hourī, heavens! had I a thousand hearts, her beauty would have robbed me of them all. I stood up and asked her, ‘Fairest of damsels, who are you, and from what cause do you dwell in this solitude?’—‘I am a fairy,’ she replied, ‘and this mountain is my residence: I have long wished to see one of the human race such as you are, and this day the desire of my heart has been realized.’ I became so fascinated with the charms of this fairy angel, that I lost all thoughts of my caravan, my home, my merchandise, and myself. She smiled so irresistibly that she entangled my heart in the fetters of her ringlets.

“After I had lived three months in the enjoyment of her society, I one day said to her, ‘Why should we thus spend our lives in solitude? It would be better for us to remove to the city, and pass our time in the midst of new pleasure.’ To this the fairy replied, ‘If such is your wish, I am satisfied; and I will accompany you as soon as I can get permission to quit this place. Meanwhile I must leave you for a short time, and you must not stir hence till my return; remain underneath this same tree till I rejoin you, when we shall set out together for your city.’ I then said to her, ‘How long will you be absent?’—‘Within seven days,’ she answered, ‘I shall certainly return; and, I repeat, beware of moving hence till I come, otherwise you will have cause to repent.’

“It is now seven years since the fairy left me, and on account of her injunctions and my promise, I durst not, during that period, go away anywhere, lest in my absence my beloved should have returned, and not finding me here, she should have cause to be angry with me. But, in fact, my strength is now so reduced that I cannot proceed in search of her, having lived for so long a time on the leaves of trees and water from the fountain. I may verily say, that to me the earth is hard, and the heavens are far off; I cannot stay, and I dare not go. Many people like yourself have come to me, and on hearing my history have gone their way; and on that account I disregarded your inquiries.”

When the young man had finished his tale, Hatim said to him, “Pray, sir, what is your name?”—“I am called Tamim of Kharzim,” was the reply. “Did the fairy,” rejoined Hatim, “mention to you her name and place of abode?”—“Her name,” replied the other, “is Alkanpari, and her residence is the mountain Alka.”—“When she left you,” continued Hatim, “in what direction did she proceed?”—“She walked to the right,” answered the youth; “but very soon I lost sight of her, and I know not whither she went.”—“Well,” said Hatim, “if you really wish to see that fairy again, come with me, and we shall set off together to the mountain of Alka, and endeavor to find her out.”—“Your proposal is fair,” answered the youth; “but if I depart with you, and during my absence the mistress of my heart should happen to come here, she will return disappointed; my journey will then be of no avail, and I shall not obtain the object of my wish. If it be destined for me to meet with her, it must be in this spot; and if otherwise, I am willing to sacrifice my life for her beloved sake.”

When Hatim heard this, tears of pity flowed from his eyes, while he thus addressed the young man: “My good friend, I will myself go to the mountain of Alka, and should it please the Almighty Creator, I shall find out that beautiful fairy, and either cause her to return to you, or bring her hither in person: I will depart immediately while you remain here, and when I have discovered the dwelling-place of Alkanpari, I will return.”—“Noble sir,” said the youth, “I have never yet seen any one who would abandon his own affairs in order to serve others; why should you be an exception to this rule? Go then and follow your own business.”—“Mistake me not, young man,” said Hatim, “I have devoted my life and property to the service of my fellow-creatures, and so far as either of them may be of use, I am ready to assist the distressed. Be assured, sir, that I speak sincerely; I have made a vow to God always to speak the truth; trust me, then, and remain here till I return.”

The young man promised that he would not leave that spot; and Hatim bidding him farewell, recommended him to the care of God, and departed. He proceeded in the direction which the fairy had gone, and for the whole of that day had his eyes bent towards the top of the mountain; but he no sooner approached the summit, than another still higher appeared beyond it. He passed onwards to the higher mountain, which he began to ascend. Its sides abounded with evergreen trees and shady groves. At length he came to a spot overshadowed by four aged and wide-spreading trees, underneath which were placed seats neat and clean. Hatim reclined on one of these couches, and as the breezes were cool and refreshing, he soon fell asleep. In the midst of his slumbers four fairies came and sat down beside him, and when they discovered that the sleeper was one of Adam’s race, they said one to another, “How has this young man found his way hither? Let us question him as to the object of his journey.”

One of the four fairies having awaked Hatim, said to him, “Pray, tell us, young man, how have you arrived here, and on what account are you come?” Hatim opened his eyes, and on seeing the fairies, replied, “I have travelled hither, under the guidance of my Creator, in search of Alkanpari, who resides in the mountain of Alka. That beautiful fairy has captured the heart of a youth by name Tamim, whom she one day left underneath a tree, promising to return in the course of seven days; and, lo! the youth has waited there seven years in expectation of her. The miserable man is now in the agonies of death; and I am going to expostulate with the fairy for her cruelty and insincerity; for to make a promise and not to fulfil it, is a proceeding unbecoming the noble.”

To this the fairies replied, “Alkanpari is sovereign of the mountain Alka; how is it possible that she could have pledged herself to hold an interview with one of your race? In truth, you are mad to say so, and it is our duty to put you to instant death.”—“If such be my fate,” returned Hatim, “I am resigned.” The fairies relenting, said to him, “If you will pass some days in our society, and entertain us with your conversation, we shall conduct you to the mountain of Alka.”—“I agree,” said Hatim, “particularly as I have no other resource, and the success of my present journey must depend upon you.” The fairy damsels then presented him with food, and treated him most hospitably with every kind of eatable that he could desire. When the stipulated period had elapsed, Hatim requested to be conducted on his way by his fair entertainers, who readily accompanied him during the space of seven days, and then took leave, saying, “Beyond this spot we dare not advance: you must hold by the path towards the right hand till you come in sight of a mountain at the foot of which there are two roads; but there you must again take that which leads to the right, and you will thereby arrive at the mountain of Alka.”

Hatim bade adieu to his guides, and proceeded on his journey towards the mountain. In a month after he came to the place where the road branched into two, and as the shades of the night were falling, he there sat down, in order to rest till day. When a watch of the night had elapsed, his ear was struck with a voice of sorrow that issued from the surrounding desert. He raised his head and as he listened to the mournful sounds, he thought within himself, “Oh, Hatim! thou hast devoted thyself to the service of thy Creator; and now, when the voice of distress pierces thy ear, why dost thou hesitate to administer relief? What will be thy answer hereafter in the presence of the great Judge?” With these reflections he speedily arose and proceeded to the left, in the direction of the voice. The whole night he continued to advance, but no one could he find; and when it was day, he sat down and rested till darkness again overspread the earth, when the same lamenting voice reached his ears. He started up, and continued his pursuit till at the dawn of day he arrived at a solitary spot, where he beheld a comely youth with his feet bare and his head uncovered, bitterly weeping and lamenting.

Hatim addressed the young man, saying, “My friend, how came you to be alone in this wilderness, whose echoes resound to your cries; and who has sent you hither?” The youth in tears replied, “Generous sir, I am by profession a soldier, and lately quitted my home in quest of service. On my journey I happened to lose my way, and on coming to a certain city, I asked the inhabitants, ‘What is the name of this city, and who is its sovereign?’ One of them told me, ‘This is the capital of Musahhir, the magician’; on hearing which, I became terrified, and immediately fled. After I had ridden the distance of a farasang from the city, I came to a garden, whose beauty charmed my heart; and dismounting from my steed, I entered this terrestrial paradise. I had not advanced more than three steps within the garden, when I beheld troops of damsels fair as Houris and clothed in splendid apparel. I then discovered that I was in the garden of the residence of the women, and reflecting that it was highly improper for me to enter such sacred precincts, I began to retrace my steps the way I came.

“When the women saw me, one of them ran and told her mistress that a young man was about to walk in the garden, but on discovering his mistake, had retired. On hearing this, the lady, who was none other than the daughter of Musahhir the magician, instantly sent me a message requesting my attendance. I went, and the moment I beheld her fair countenance I became like one beside himself, and grew so faint that I had to lay hold of the garden gate for support. Her attendants seized me by the hands and conducted me to the midst of the garden, where I was seated upon a couch beside the magician’s daughter. This lady received me so kindly, and smiled so sweetly, that my heart was pierced with love. Bewildered, I contemplated her beautiful form as she sat by me.

“Meanwhile, who should arrive at the garden door but her father the magician; and when he saw my horse, he asked whose it was, and being informed of the whole affair by the attendants, he entered, foaming with rage. When he beheld his daughter engaged in conversation with me, he seized her by the neck, and was about to dash her against the ground, but the lady appealed to his sense of justice, as she was not guilty of any impropriety, and begged of him first to make the strictest inquiry, and then inflict punishment, if due. The father checked his anger and withdrew his hands, when in the meantime the nurse addressed him, saying, ‘Oh, king! your daughter is now of age, and amongst your subjects there is none worthy of being her husband. The stranger you see here is just arrived: he seems of noble rank, and an honorable man; it were better, then, that you give him your daughter in marriage, for you will thus secure a noble successor. If, however, you put to death these two, who are perfectly free from crime, you will, on the one hand, set a ruinous example to your people; and, on the other hand, you will stain yourself with the blood of the innocent.’

“On hearing this, Musahhir the magician said, ‘Daughter, what think you of this proposal?’ The damsel replied, ‘As yet I have not been seen by any stranger, and as this traveller has happened to see me unveiled, I am willing to accept him.’—‘Be it so,’ said her father; ‘but I have three conditions, and that man alone who can comply with them shall receive my daughter.’ I then ventured to address the magician, saying, ‘In that case I am ready to do whatever you command me.’ The magician then conducted me to his capital, and admitted me into his hall of audience. He then summoned the grandees of his dominions, in whose presence he thus stated to me the three conditions on which I was to receive his daughter:

“‘The first condition is, that you will procure me a pair of the animals called parīrū.’

“‘The second is, that you will bring me the muhra, the pearl which is in the mouth of the red dragon.’

“‘And the third is, that you will cast yourself into a large cauldron full of boiling oil, and see if you can come out unhurt.’

“To each of these I agreed, and immediately quitting the city, I wandered hither, where I am now exhausted with hunger and thirst, and pierced through the heart with the darts of the glances of a Houri. I am not able to return to my own country, and no friend has yet visited me by whose aid I might fulfil the conditions of the magician, and thus become entitled to the hand of his daughter; in this desert I have constantly strayed, weeping and lamenting, since the time I left the city, which is now a period of two years.”

On hearing this statement, Hatim said to the young man, in condoling language, “Be of good cheer, for God willing, I will perform these three conditions for you, and put you in possession of your mistress.” He then remembered the circumstance of the jackals that had procured him the head of the pariru from the desert of Mazanderán, and resolved to set out thither immediately. In short, Hatim took leave of the youth, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. In the course of a few days he came to a certain city, around which, along the walls and ditches, the inhabitants had laid piles of dried wood, which they kept burning.

Hatim, surprised, asked them what was the cause of this conflagration. “If,” said one of them, “we do not keep this fire constantly burning all around our outward walls, a monstrous demon will enter our city and devour us.”—“Pray,” said Hatim, “what like is this evil being that so annoys you?”—“He is a large animal,” replied they, “frightful beyond description, and when he comes he devours three or four of our people at a time.” Hatim, on hearing this, began to consider how it would be practicable to free them from this calamity, and in the meantime he went to take some repose in the caravanseraï.

He then caused a pit to be dug outside the city in the open plain, which he fenced round with bushes of thorn and piles of wood, and furnishing himself with a bow and quiver full of arrows he took up his post in that ambush about sunset. When about a watch of the night had passed, the approach of the monster was indicated with a noise like that of a tempest. When this formidable beast came nearer, he saw that it had eight feet and seven heads, of which six were like those of lions, and the remaining head resembled that of an elephant. The elephant head was situated in the middle, and had three eyes.

When Hatim was leaving the city, the inhabitants had given him a description of the monster, which he now found to be quite correct. They further told him that this terrific beast was vulnerable only on the middle eye of the elephant head, and if it were possible to hit that eye with an arrow, it would be the means of removing this calamity, for then the monster would run off, and never approach a human abode. Meanwhile the inhabitants hearing him advance, kindled their fires all around the city, which became completely covered with a thick cloud of smoke. The monster moved round the walls, and continued to roar with all his mouths so loud that the city shook to its foundation. At length he approached the spot where Hatim lay concealed, and when the latter observed him, he placed his trust in Providence, and seizing his bow he took a deliberate aim at the central eye on the elephant head, and pierced it with an arrow.

The monster reeled and fell with a crash upon the earth, and raised such a roar that the city and the desert shook far and wide. He shortly after started up, and fled so swiftly towards the wilderness that he never looked behind him. Hatim spent the whole night without the walls, and when the dawn of morning appeared he reëntered the gates. The people crowded round him, and asked whether he had seen the demon. He answered, “I have expelled him from your territories.”—“How,” said they, “can we be certain of that?”—“You may soon satisfy yourselves on that score,” replied Hatim; “this night you can watch on the walls and battlements of the city, and if you hear his sound, then shall you consider me a teller of falsehood; if, on the other hand, the sound shall not be heard, you will be convinced of my veracity.” To this they agreed and acted accordingly, and when the night was over and all well, they returned to Hatim and prostrated themselves at his feet, and conveyed him in triumph to the residence of their governor, who received him with the utmost courtesy and respect, seating him by his side, and treating him with boundless hospitality. The people of the city, and particularly the governor, speedily brought all their wealth in cash and valuable effects, and offered it to Hatim, who said to them, “I am a poor traveller, and I am not the least desirous of such wealth as you offer me.” They requested him to accept of their bounty, and do with it what he thought proper.

Hatim accepted the gold and property which they thus pressed upon him, and bestowed the whole of it on the fakirs, and poor people of the city. He then took leave of the inhabitants, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. As he was journeying onwards, he saw a black snake in deadly contest with a weasel. He stood for some time looking on, while neither of the animals seemed to have the advantage. At length he shouted, “Vile reptiles! what is the cause of this deadly contest between you?” The snake replied, “My opponent here has slain my father.” The weasel added, “Snakes are the natural food of my species, and therefore I killed his father, and will kill him also, that I may eat him.” Hatim addressed the weasel, saying, “If flesh be thy desire, say the word, and I shall give it thee from off my own body”; and to the snake he said, “If revenge be thy object, slay me instead of the weasel.” Both of them, on hearing this, ceased from their struggle. The weasel said to Hatim, “As you have offered me your flesh, give it me.”—“What part of me,” asked Hatim, “do you desire?”—“Your cheek,” replied the weasel.

Hatim seized a knife, and was about to cut off the flesh from his cheek, when the weasel cried, “Desist, young man, I merely did this to try your firmness, and now I am convinced of your generosity.” Immediately both of them assumed the appearance of men. When Hatim saw this, he asked, “My friends, what wonderful occurrence is this?” The weasel replied, “We are both of us of the race of the genii, and I confess I have slain his father; but the reason is, that I fell desperately in love with the old man’s daughter, and he refused his assent to our marriage. The brother, as you see, bears deadly hatred towards me, and I must kill him in self-defence.” Hatim, addressing the genii, recommended to them peace and amity on both sides, and proffered that each should marry the other’s sister. The genius that had been in the form of a weasel replied, “My father, who is king of the genii, will never agree to such a proposal.”—“Let me be shown to his presence,” requested Hatim, “and I may induce him to be satisfied.”—“Follow me, then,” said the genius, “and you shall soon be in my father’s court.” After they had thus walked together for some distance, they arrived at a spacious city, where the prince told Hatim, “This is my father’s capital. I must part with you here, in order to proceed to my own residence; but my attendants will take you by the hand, and conduct you to my father’s presence.”

Troops of genii approached Hatim accordingly, and ushered him before their sovereign, whose name was Mahyūr. When his Majesty saw Hatim, he said to him, “Stranger of the race of Adam, what important affair has brought you into my capital?”—“I have come,” said he, “for promoting peace and friendship.”—“How,” rejoined the king, “can any of the human race act so friendly a part towards the genii, and what is the nature of this service with which you are to favor us?”—“You have a son,” continued Hatim; “may I ask whether you wish his life to be spared, or are resolved on his death?”—“Truly,” replied Mahyur, “I have a son, but what then?”—“If you love him,” said Hatim in return, “follow my advice, and his life may be saved; otherwise death will soon overtake him.”—“May the divine favor be upon you,” rejoined the king of the genii; “tell me what is the matter, that my son is in danger of his life.”—“He has slain the father of a certain youth named Bahram,” said Hatim, “and the latter bears hatred towards him on that account, and will certainly slay him: to-day I saw them in deadly contest, and your son’s life would have been short indeed had I not parted them. Another day they will again meet, and the result will be fatal; but if you obey my directions, I may be the means of establishing peace between them. The case is this: your son is enamoured of Bahram’s sister, and has slain her father because he refused his consent to their union; on the other hand, Bahram is in love with your daughter. It is requisite then, in order to do away all grounds of hatred, that you bestow your daughter on Bahram, and induce his sister to marry your son.”

Mahyur expressed satisfaction with Hatim’s proposal; and accordingly summoned his son and Bahram into his presence, where Hatim succeeded in making them friends. When each of the lovers was in possession of his mistress, Hatim went to take leave of Mahyur, who said to him at parting, “Brave sir! accept of something from us as a reward for your kindness.”—“I have never yet taken a reward,” replied Hatim, “for discharging the duties of humanity.”—“Generous Hatim!” rejoined the king of the genii, “accept from me this staff as a token of esteem; it may be of use to you. When you hold it erect in your hand, it becomes possessed of some rare qualities; for instance, if a serpent or scorpion sting you, the venom shall have no effect, and the fire shall have no power over you. If any one assail you with magic, turn round the staff, and the enchantment will be of no avail. In particular, the poison of the red dragon can have no power over you. Accept at the same time this talisman, and whenever you behold a serpent, whether red, or black, or green, or white, place the talisman in your mouth, and you will be safe. Again, when you come to a river, throw the staff into the water, and it will instantly become a boat.”

Hatim having taken the talisman and the staff, bade adieu to the king of the genii, and proceeded on his journey to Mazanderán. Advancing day and night, he arrived at the banks of a large river. While standing upon the shore he beheld the waves rising to the clouds, and by their buffeting lashing the stars of heaven. He looked in all directions for a place where he might cross; and when he was in this consideration, he recollected the staff presented to him by Mahyur the king of the genii. He immediately seized it in his right hand, and threw it amidst the billows, whereupon the staff was changed into a boat, in which he embarked and began to make his way across. After he had sailed about half way, a huge nihang espied him, and ran off with himself and his boat. Hatim resigned his soul to the will of fate, and was waiting the result with patience, till at length after they had traversed the deep for the space of seven farasangs, his feet rested on firm ground. There he opened his eyes, and was surprised on hearing the nihang address him in eloquent language, thus: “Oh, Hatim! I have brought thee into this place that thou mightest render me justice.” Hatim said, “What justice do you require?” To this the nihang replied, “The crab has unlawfully deprived me of my place of residence: my wish is that you will put me in possession of what is my right.” Hatim rejoined, “Is it possible that the crab is more powerful than you?” To this the nihang replied, “Sluggish as he may appear, he is able to crush me into pieces between his claws; at present he is abroad somewhere in quest of food, and I have in the meantime brought you hither.”

Hatim humbly placed his reliance on his Creator, well aware that of himself he could do nothing; when, lo! the crab, which was of immense size, made his appearance, whereupon the nihang immediately fled. The crab slowly approached; and when he saw the flight of the nihang, he raised such a noise as shook the earth, so that Hatim himself was terrified, and devoutly prayed that Providence might deliver him from the evil that threatened him. He speedily took in his hand the charmed staff presented to him by Mahyur, on beholding which, the crab remained still where he was. Hatim then addressed the monstrous animal, saying, “Know you not that the oppressor shall fall by his own deceit? Why then do you injure the nihang? Is there not room sufficient for both of you in this river, that you should forcibly take possession of another’s residence?” To this the crab replied, “The nihang and I are of the same genus, what then has one of the human race to say in any contention that may take place between us?”—“There is some truth in your statement,” said Hatim, “but all creatures have their being from God, who delighteth in justice and punisheth the oppressor: if you fear him then, injure not a fellow-creature.”—“Well,” replied the crab, “at present I shall quit this place, rather than argue the point with you; but I shall meet the nihang on some future day, when you are not at hand to lend your aid.”—“Assuredly you are a mischievous animal,” rejoined Hatim; “but if you value your own life, abandon this place forever.” The crab, on hearing this, rushed upon Hatim, and was about to seize him in his claws; but he struck him such a blow with the charmed staff of the genius that his attack was rendered fruitless. The monstrous animal turned and fled; and the nihang, taking courage, began to pursue him, whereupon Hatim called out, “Desist, for to pursue him now is cowardly, as his weapons are powerless; he will never hereafter annoy you, and if you oppress him I shall put an end to your days.”

Hatim having settled the plea between the two inhabitants of the deep, threw down his staff, which turned into a boat wherein he embarked, and reaching the opposite shore of the water, he continued his journey to Mazanderán. At length he arrived in that extensive wilderness, and reclining in the shade of a tree he began to consider what would be the best way of procuring the pariru. When the darkness of night had fallen around him, several of these birds, that had been abroad in search of food, came and perched upon the tree, and began to converse among themselves: “Our solitary abode is visited by a man, Hatim ben Taï; the object of his journey is to relieve the distressed: what then are we to do?” All of them concurred in saying, “Hatim is a man of the noblest disposition, and he must not leave us in disappointment.” Having formed this resolution, the birds assembled around Hatim, and in humble posture began to embrace his feet. When he saw their wonderful form, he was highly astonished; for each of them resembles an angel in beauty of countenance. Fascinated with the charms of their fairy faces, he could not avoid exclaiming, “Gracious heaven! how inscrutable are thy decrees, who hast formed such creatures with bodies like those of birds, and countenances fair as the Houris of paradise.”

Meanwhile the strange creatures, addressing Hatim in sweet flowing language, said to him, “Oh, Hatim! may the fame of your generosity be eternal; you have subjected yourself to toils and perils for the sake of others. We know the cause of your journey hither: a certain youth has become enamoured of the magician’s daughter; the father gives his consent on certain conditions, one of which is, that he may have a pair of our species, and you, regardless of danger, have come hither on that account.”—“You say truly,” replied Hatim, “and if you will allow me to take a pair of your young, it will be doing me the highest favor; and it will also promote the suit of the despairing lover.” They deliberated among themselves, saying, “Those of us that are fully grown cannot be expected to go with this man: who is it, then, among us that will present him with a pair of young ones? It will be a service acceptable to God.”

Here one of the pariru birds said to Hatim: “Lo, I myself will give you a pair of my own young, for the sake of that Being who bestoweth all things; accept them, and take them with you wherever you please.” Hatim joyfully received the young birds; and having passed the night in that desert, he early next morning took leave of these wonderful creatures, and began to retrace his way to the capital of the magician. In the course of time, after he had traversed mountains and deserts innumerable, he arrived at the spot where the young soldier still lingered; and having presented to him the pariru birds, he said, “Rejoice, my friend, for here you see what will fulfil one of the magician’s conditions.” When the youth beheld the birds, he prostrated himself in ecstasy at Hatim’s feet, saying, “My generous benefactor! let us now proceed with these beautiful birds, and present them to the magician.” Both of them set out accordingly, and by the way Hatim related to his friend the occurrences of his journey, and the situation of the desert of Mazanderán; and having handed to him the pariru birds, he desired him to go himself and deliver them to Musahhir, and mention nothing of having been assisted in procuring them.

When they entered the city, Hatim stopped at a caravanseraï, and the youth proceeded with the birds, and delivered them to the magician, who was much surprised in seeing them, and questioned him, saying, “Young man, is this your own doing? If so, tell me truly in what part of the world are such birds to be found?” The youth, without hesitation, replied, “In the desert of Mazanderán.” The magician then asked him various particulars about the road thither, all of which he was enabled to answer satisfactorily from what Hatim had told him. “You are right,” said the magician: “so much for the first condition. Now procure me the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon.” The youth said, in reply, “Let me for one moment view the face of her whom I adore, for otherwise I shall not have even the power of moving.” To this the magician agreed, and sent a message to his daughter, desiring her to hold her head out at the window, and favor her lover with one look. The young man, in transports, presented himself under her window, and the lady leaning out her head as permitted, cheered him with her smiles. After they had viewed each other with the looks of affection, the youth said, “Now I am about to depart in quest of the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon; can you inform me where it is to be found?”—“I have heard,” replied the lady, “that it is in the Red Desert, which is in the regions of the mountain Kaf.”

The youth, on hearing this, took leave of his beloved, and hastened to Hatim, to whom he communicated all that had passed. Hatim comforted him, and said, “Cease your weeping and lamentation, for I will use every exertion for your relief: may God preserve you till my return.” Having thus spoken, Hatim parted with his friend and began his journey to the mountain Kaf. After he had passed many a stage he arrived in a wilderness, where he one day at dawn espied a dragon streaked with the seven colors of the rainbow, and having wings like those of an eagle, with which he hovered over the desert.

On beholding this terrific sight, Hatim stood aghast, while he said in his heart, “I have ere now traversed deserts and mountains like those around me; but such a creature as this I never saw before: I must keep a strict watch on his movements, in order to discover his haunt.” Hatim followed the dragon for the whole of that day, and at eve the winged monster took refuge in the cleft of a rock near which Hatim also rested, resolved to observe the proceedings of so wonderful a creature. In that same neighborhood there was a village, the inhabitants of which were then coming out for water to a fountain close by the rock. When they saw Hatim, they discovered that he was a stranger, and hospitably offered him bread and water, on which he fared; and on their inviting him to their village, he said he preferred resting for the night beneath a tree close by.

Meanwhile the people returned to their dwellings, leaving their cows and flocks at pasture on the verdant plain that lay at the foot of the rock, where the shepherds also remained to tend them for the night. At the end of the first watch, however, the winged serpent issued from his haunt, and rushing upon the cattle, speedily killed them all, one after another, with his venomous sting. Nor did his devastation there stop, for on the same night he destroyed two troops of horses belonging to a caravan that had halted at the fountain. When Hatim saw this dreadful ravage he wrung his hands in agony, but lo! the dragon, still thirsting for blood, approached the tree where he stood and in an instant stung to death those who watched the caravan, and the shepherds that were in attendance; after which, he again vanished into the hole in the rock.

Hatim spent the remainder of the night in a state of sorrow and amazement; and when the dawn of day appeared, the villagers came out to look after their flocks, but to their astonishment they beheld the plain strewed with the dead bodies of the shepherds and the carcases of their cows and horses. So deadly was the venom of this monster, that by the dawn of day the flesh was completely dissolved from off the bones and converted into a liquid of green color. One of the people conveyed the mournful tidings to the village, whereupon all the inhabitants came out crying and weeping. On seeing Hatim they addressed him, saying, “Tell us, stranger, how come you to be here alive, and how has this terrible catastrophe taken place?”—“Alas! my friends,” replied Hatim, “here I have witnessed most horrible deeds, such as I never beheld or heard of in my whole life. A seven-colored dragon, shaped as an eagle, has committed this slaughter, and retired into a hole in the rock, where you may still see him.”

The people gathered round the mouth of the cavern, and on seeing the dragon they were terrified, and said to one another, “Truly such a formidable animal as this we never yet beheld.” Meanwhile the dragon rushed from his hole in the rock, and seizing the chief of the village pierced him with his envenomed sting till he rolled in the dust and bade adieu to life, amidst the shrieks and tears of his friends and attendants. The dragon then winged his way slowly towards the desert, and Hatim followed close after him, in order to see what might happen next. For the whole of that day he continued his pursuit, and when evening was nigh the dragon halted near a large city while Hatim watched him from a short distance. But the dragon had no sooner touched the ground than he was transformed into a black snake, while Hatim stood wrapt in astonishment, anxious to know what would be the result of this change. The black serpent coiled himself into a hole till the end of the first watch of the night, when he issued out and made direct for the city, whither Hatim continued to follow. At length the serpent arrived at the walls of the king’s palace, which he entered by a certain staircase, and ere Hatim could follow, returned by the same passage, and made for another house. In a very short time the serpent came out of the latter house also, and quitting the city retired to his hole. Hatim wondered in his mind who could have been the victims of the scourge for that night. With the morning certainty came, for the cries and lamentations of the people soon informed him that the prince and vizier’s son were in the course of the night stung to death by a serpent, and now lay stretched on the bier, and were being conveyed to their graves.

In the course of the morning the black snake quit his hole, and made off in another direction, Hatim following; nor for the whole day did he cease his pursuit, till towards night the serpent came to the bank of a river, where he assumed the form of a lion. It happened that close by there was a village, the inhabitants of which, to the number of ten or twelve, were proceeding, one after the other, to the river to draw water, among them a most comely youth of the age of sixteen. This youth, the flower of the village, the lion seized as his victim, and having torn him to pieces, he again made for the desert, where, to Hatim’s utter amazement, he was transformed into a beautiful damsel of fourteen years of age. When Hatim beheld the damsel, he said in his heart, “May heaven protect me! I wonder what is to happen next.”

The damsel in an instant arrayed herself in splendid apparel and costly jewels, and, resembling the full moon in beauty, sat down underneath a tree by the wayside. It happened that shortly after, two brother soldiers, natives of China, who having completed their stipulated period of service were returning loaded with wealth to their own country, passed that way, and on seeing them the damsel began a most piteous lamentation. When this voice of sorrow reached their ears, the elder of the two brothers approached the tree, and to his astonishment there beheld the most beautiful of women deeply affected with grief. The soldier thus addressed the damsel: “Fairest of women, what calamity has befallen thee that thou art thus forsaken to weep and lament in the solitary desert?”—“I am,” replied the damsel, “the wife of a villager: a few days ago I had gone on a visit to my mother’s house, and in returning home along with my husband we lost our way in this wilderness, where I have since wandered. I have not been able to find the way back to my mother’s house, nor do I know in what direction to proceed in quest of my husband or of my own home. Whither my husband is gone heaven only knows; and now what is to become of me, and how am I to live?” The brave soldier, on hearing this sad detail, said to the young woman, “If I were to offer myself as your husband, would you accept me?”—“If you will agree to my three conditions,” answered the damsel, “I will give you my hand. The first condition is, that you shall have no other wife than myself[1]; the second, that I will be exempt from all household services; and the third is, that you are not to reprimand me for anything I may choose to do.” To this the soldier agreed, saying, “I am as yet unmarried, and I promise to comply with all your conditions. While I live I shall have no other wife but you; and in my house there are slaves male and female in abundance, so that you will have no trouble with the household affairs, except to give orders for whatever you wish. Your last condition I believe is superfluous; is it possible that any man can speak harshly to her whom he loves?” The damsel, on hearing this, replied, “Enough, I will accept you as my husband,” and accordingly they joined hands; after which the soldier mounted his steed, and taking up his new wife behind him, departed. Hatim followed, in order to see the end of these strange occurrences; and when they had gone some distance, the woman said to her husband, “I am quite exhausted with hunger and thirst, having tasted no food for the last three days; if you have nothing eatable with you, at least let me have a drink of water.” The soldier dismounted, and having caused his wife to alight, he seated her under the shade of a tree, and he took a pitcher, and went in search of water.

* * * *

When the woman arrived at the village, she assumed the form of a buffalo; and the people attempting to seize her, she slew several of them with her hoofs and horns, and again fled towards the desert.

Filled with wonder, Hatim closely followed this mysterious being, and when arrived in the midst of the desert, lo! the buffalo was transformed into a venerable old man with a white beard. On seeing this last change, Hatim resolved to accost the old man, and ask him the hidden cause of his evil deeds, and why he delighted in working such havoc among God’s creatures. He accordingly made up to him at a rapid pace, and stood by his side. The aged man turned and said, “Speak, Hatim, whatever you wish to say.”—“Venerable sir,” replied Hatim, “how came you to know my name?”—“If that be all,” replied the old man, “I know the name of every individual in your tribe; but at present, if you have any question to ask me make haste, for I have much business in hand, and my time is precious.”

Hatim, without more delay, said to him, “Mysterious being! I first beheld you in the shape of a dragon, when you filled with sorrow a whole village; you afterwards assumed the form of a black snake, when you laid in the dust the son of the king and that of his minister; again, you transformed yourself into a lion, and tore to pieces a youth the most elegant of form; you then became a beautiful damsel of the age of fourteen, and by your perfidy caused the death of two brothers; your next step was to adopt the shape of a buffalo, and you slew the people of the village; you now appear an aged man: tell me, for heaven’s sake, what are you, and whither are you going?” The old man, with a haughty smile, replied, “What does all this concern you? Follow your own business: you also I shall yet visit in some shape or other, and your death will be the consequence.”

Hatim persisted, saying, “I will never quit my hold of your skirt till you clear up to me this mystery.”—“Know, then,” said the old man, “that I am the angel of death; the first day you saw me in the shape of a dragon, it was the decree of the Almighty that those men and beasts that were my victims should meet their death by that means. Providence had foreordained that the young prince and the son of the minister should die by the sting of a serpent, and I accordingly assumed the form of a serpent. I became a lion, and slew the beautiful youth; such was his fate. As to the two brothers, they were destined to leave their homes and serve abroad, and after a certain period, when they had earned and amassed some money, it was ordained that they should proceed on their return to their own country, and in the course of their journey that they should kill one another on account of a woman; I therefore assumed the form of a woman to fulfil the divine decree. In the village where you last saw me, it was the lot of the people whom I slew to fall by a buffalo; I therefore became a buffalo on that occasion. Be you assured, oh, Hatim! that it is not in the power of one man to slay another; but in whatever way a man’s fate is decreed, by that means only he loses his life.” Hatim, on hearing this, asked the angel of death, “Tell me truly what fate is ordained for me?” The aged man replied, “Suffice it to say that more than half your life-time is yet to pass.”—“But,” rejoined Hatim, “may I not learn from you the whole truth?”—“Know, then,” replied the king of terrors, “that when you have attained the age of two hundred years, you shall fall by the hand of Omnipotence. A stream of blood shall flow from your nostrils, by which you will experience some slight pain, and afterwards for a short time recover. In that period your hand shall be stretched out as usual in deeds of charity to your fellow-creatures; and shortly after, the flux of blood shall again issue from your nostrils, and thus you shall die. Meanwhile a long life is before you; go on, then, and shrink not from your noble task of relieving the sorrows and promoting the happiness of mankind.”

When Hatim heard all this, he bent his head to the dust in prayer to God, and when he arose, he looked around him, but the old man had vanished from his sight. He then betook himself to the prosecution of his journey towards the Red Desert, and in the course of a few months he found himself far beyond the habitations of men, in the midst of a wilderness where no water was to be found. Hungry and thirsty as he was, he still continued his route, his whole subsistence consisting of the wild fruits and weeds of the desert. In this way he journeyed for some time, when lo! one day, to his utter astonishment, he came to a place where the heavens and the earth wore a dark hue, and every object he saw was black. This place was the abode of the black serpents, which, when they scented Hatim, rushed upon him from all quarters in order to devour him. He threw upon the ground the talismanic staff of Mahyur the genius, and sat down upon it, safe by its magic power. The serpents continued to rear their crests and with a hissing noise to move round him in endless contortions the whole night. When daylight appeared, he took his staff in his hand, and continued his march secure from the venom of the snakes, and thus he journeyed on till he reached the boundaries of the land of darkness. Contiguous to this lay the white regions, which Hatim began to explore. Here every object was possessed of the most brilliant whiteness, so that the whole place seemed made of alabaster. At the same time white serpents of prodigious size endeavored from a distance to inhale him with their poisonous breath; but on account of his charmed staff their efforts were of no avail, nor had they the power of approaching him. In the course of a few days, Hatim succeeded in making his way through these dangerous realms, and next arrived in a region where every object he beheld was green as emerald. There, too, abounded serpents of a green color, and when they saw Hatim they quickly surrounded him, and were it not for the virtue of his talisman, his days would have been short. Hatim, however, unhurt, surmounted a thousand perils and difficulties as he travelled through the evergreen regions; and at length he arrived in an extensive tract of land, which to him seemed to be wrapt in flames, and this he knew to be the Red Desert.

There every object was red as vermilion, and ere Hatim had advanced many steps the heat became so intolerable that he almost lost the power of walking. He thought within his heart that it would be impossible to proceed any further; but, again, he said to himself: “Oh, Hatim! in doing a good action, whatever happens, let it come, even were the difficulties a thousand times more severe than the present.” By the time he had advanced a farasang his feet were full of blisters, and his thirst was so excessive that he was compelled to rest at every step.

“Now,” thought Hatim, “my dying hour is come; if I wished to return, I have not even the power; and if I advance, I shall assuredly perish. But at the same time I cannot live here.” Having made this resolution, he continued to move slowly onwards, till by the time he had advanced another farasang, he became exhausted, and his thirst was so extreme that he sunk upon the ground and lay like one dead, his whole body covered with blisters.

While he lay senseless in this state, an aged man came up to him, and seizing his hand, raised him from the earth, and said to him, “Oh, Hatim! here you have no cause for despair; why do you not avail yourself of the talisman given you by the bear’s daughter?” Hatim collected his scattered senses, and speedily producing the talisman put it in his mouth, which was no sooner done than the heat of the Red Desert ceased to oppress him, and his blisters were healed. Hatim then prostrated himself at the feet of his aged monitor, and said, “Most venerable sir, tell me what is the cause of this excessive heat?” The old man replied, “This heat is caused by the red serpents that haunt the desert. They are of immense size, and from their mouths they breathe volumes of flame and clouds of smoke, hence the fiery hue of every object you behold.” Hatim, however, secure under the effects of the talisman which he carried in his mouth, went fearlessly on, and felt not the least inconvenience from the scorching heat.

When he had penetrated as far as the centre of the Red Desert, the fire-breathing serpents espied him, and began to rear their heads and crests aloft like tall trees. From their nostrils issued streams of flame as it were from a furnace, and with tremendous hissing they assailed him on all sides, intending to scorch him to death and reduce his bones to ashes. But owing to the charmed muhra of the bear’s daughter, the attack of the snakes fell upon Hatim like a current of cool water. Meanwhile the serpents increased in number, and were about to overpower him with their pestiferous and scorching breath. He at last threw upon the ground the magic staff of Mahyur, the king of the genii, and such was its wonderful effect, that when he stood upon it no snake could come within reach of him. The serpents overawed, remained at a distance; and notwithstanding their utmost efforts for the whole of that night, they were not able to do him the least harm. When daylight appeared, Hatim observed that the largest of the red serpents had in its mouth the muhra which he wished to procure, but never allowed it to drop upon the ground. He took his magic staff, and aiming it at the head of the serpent, struck it such a blow as made it recoil upon itself and roll amidst the dust. There the snake lay stunned till the sun arose, when it revived, and dropping the muhra, slowly dragged itself to its den. Hatim quickly ran to take up his treasure, but from its brilliant appearance he hesitated to lay hold of it, thinking that it was as hot as fire. He stood for some time viewing the muhra, and at length he tore a piece of cloth from his turban, and by way of experiment placed it upon the shining jewel. When he observed that the cloth was not burnt, he ventured to take the muhra in his hand and carefully wrapped it in a fold of his turban.

The moment Hatim had the muhra in his possession, he was surprised in finding that the heat of the desert no longer remained, and the objects around him assumed a verdant hue. Now this muhra was possessed of the rarest qualities, to the number of a thousand and one, of which we may mention the following:—The first was, that the possessor of it should never be drowned; the second, that he should be secured from any bad effects of fire; the third quality that was inherent in this pearl was, that it restored sight to the blind; the fourth, that it cured the bite of a snake or any other venomous creature; the fifth, he who had it with him in war was sure of obtaining victory; the sixth, he should be endeared alike to friend and foe; the seventh, all four-footed and winged animals should be obedient to his commands; the eighth was, that he should excel in wisdom; the ninth, that his wealth should be boundless; but it would be tedious to detail the whole.

In fine, Hatim returned with the muhra, and in the course of time he came to the place where he left the young soldier. He saluted him, and resigning the precious treasure into his hands, he said to him, “Go now and present this to the magician.” The young man prostrated himself at the feet of Hatim, and the latter having raised him up, related to him all the occurrences of his journey, and described to him the regions of the serpents. The two friends then proceeded together to the capital of the magician, and the youthful soldier having obtained an interview of his Majesty, presented him with the muhra, in the procuring of which, he stated, that he had undergone a thousand toils, and encountered perils innumerable. “That,” replied the magician, “I shall soon put to the proof.”—“With all my heart,” said the youth; and accordingly the magician commenced a strict inquiry respecting the Red Desert, the serpents, and the other particulars, all of which the soldier answered to his satisfaction.

The magician, highly delighted with the treasure he thus possessed, said to the young man, “There now remains only one task to be accomplished, which is, that you will plunge bare of your clothing into a cauldron full of boiling oil; are you prepared to comply with the same?” The youth replying in the affirmative, the magician issued orders to his people to place the iron cauldron on the furnace, fill it with oil, and with a strong fire heat the same till it boiled. The attendants of the magician immediately executed this order, and so heated the oil that if a stone were cast into it, it would have instantly dissolved. Meanwhile the soldier returned to Hatim, and said to him, “Alas, my benefactor! I have yet to fulfil the severest of his Majesty’s conditions. He expects me to cast myself into a cauldron full of boiling oil, and if I come out unhurt, I am to be honored with the hand of his daughter. But, I would ask you, is it in the power of mortal man to undergo such an ordeal, and escape with life?”

“Be not disheartened,” said Hatim; “even in this conjuncture I can ensure your success.” He then produced the talisman of the bear, and presenting it to the young soldier, he said to him, “Take this muhra in your mouth, and you may without the least hesitation cast yourself into the boiling liquid.” The youth, still incredulous, shuddered at the idea; and Hatim swore to him by all that was sacred that he should come by no harm. The soldier at length took the talisman as advised, and having ascended the steps that led to the mouth of the boiler, he looked at the burning liquid foaming furiously like a troubled sea, and all firmness left his heart. Hatim then exclaimed to him, “Are you a man? Is such fear consistent with your love?” When the young soldier heard this from Hatim, he hesitated no longer, but shutting his eyes threw himself into the midst of the boiler. To his surprise, the oil that had been heated to the utmost had no more effect upon him than cool water. He walked slowly from one side of the boiler to the other, and in presence of the magician began to lift in his hands the fiery liquid and sprinkle it on his body. When some time had elapsed, the soldier thus addressed the magician, “Most mighty king, what is your decision now? Shall I come out or remain here longer?” When the king saw that the soldier still lived, he held down his head in thoughtfulness, and a trembling seized his soul, as he said, “Young man, I am satisfied; come out at once.” But no sooner had the soldier accomplished this third task, than the magician, unwilling to fulfil his promise, began to assail him with enchantment. Hatim, however, came to his assistance, and warned the king of the magicians, saying, “Your arts are of no effect upon this youth, for he has a talisman more potent than the muhra of the red serpent; you must therefore fulfil what you have promised him.” The magician, thus surpassed in his art, embraced the young soldier as a sign of friendship, and having made the necessary preparations, gave him his daughter in marriage, and with the utmost suavity said to him, “Now, my son, you are to consider all my wealth as your own, for I have no other male heir on whom to bestow it.”

When Hatim saw the two lovers united in wedlock, he took leave of the happy bridegroom, and departed in prosecution of his journey. In the course of time he arrived at the foot of the mountain Alka, which was so high that none of the feathered tribes had wings sufficient to reach its summit. There he halted for a moment, in order to consider what course to take, and said in his heart, “Of whom can I receive information respecting this strange place, and who shall direct me on my way?” While these reflections occupied his mind, he espied a troop of beautiful fairies tripping along the brow of the mountain, and without further delay he followed them. After he had traced the fairies to some distance up the hill, they suddenly disappeared and left him in solitude. Hatim, astonished, looked around him, and saw in the side of the mountain a cave, which seemed to be formed from a solid rock of marble. The entrance into it was a steep descent into the bowels of the earth along the marble rock, which was as smooth as glass. Hatim hesitated whether he should enter, as egress seemed to be impossible; for no human foot could rest upon this steep and slippery path.

On further consideration, however, Hatim resolved to enter; and having laid himself upon the smooth stone, he let go his hold and commenced his rapid descent. For the whole of that day he continued to slide downwards, and at evening he found himself landed on level ground. There he opened his eyes, and beheld around him an extensive field delightful to the sight. He rose up and sought a place wherein to repose till day, when he resolved to go in quest of the fairies, as he had reason to suppose that they too had descended into the cave. When the darkness of night had withdrawn, Hatim began to traverse those strange regions, and had not gone far when an edifice of splendid appearance met his view. This was nothing less than the palace of the fairies, and thither he directed his steps. When he approached the mansion, the fairies observed him, and cried out, “Are you aware, son of Adam, that these are our regions, not yours? how came you here, and who has been your conductor?”—“He who has ever been my guide,” replied Hatim, “conducted me hither.”—“And how,” rejoined the fairies, “did you discover the descent into this subterraneous abode?”—“I saw you,” he replied; “as you passed along the mountain, and followed you till you vanished from my sight; on searching around me, however, I observed the entrance into the cave, and laying myself on the smooth inclined stone, my descent was rapid. Now that I have found you, tell me what is the name of this region, and who is its sovereign?”

“This,” replied the fairies, “is the mountain of Alka, and the sovereign of these realms is Alkanpari. We are the guardians of this paradise, where our fairy queen resides during the season of spring, and to-morrow we expect her arrival here to enjoy the delights of the garden. Our permitting you to remain then is impossible, for it would be death both to ourselves and you; but now that you are here you must be ruled by us, and we will save your life, for we bear you no enmity.” To this Hatim answered, “Whither can I flee for refuge, for verily there is no escape; and besides, I have undergone all the toils and perils of my journey in order to obtain an interview with your queen, who is now so opportunely about to visit this garden; I will therefore remain here, happen what will.”—“And what,” said the fairies, “may be your business with our gracious queen? You are a poor man, and she is sovereign of the fairy realms.”—“Have you never heard,” replied Hatim, “of a fairy’s being in love with one of the human race, or of a man’s being enamoured of a fairy?”—“In truth,” rejoined the fairies, “you seem to be weary of your own life, to utter such language in our presence.”—“You may judge,” said Hatim, “how little I care for my life by my venturing hither.”

The adventures of Hatim Taï, a romance

THEADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏA Romance

[COPYRIGHT.]

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.

THE ADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏ.

BOOK I.

The History of Shahzada Munir.

BOOK II.

BOOK III.

THE
ADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏ
A Romance