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.]

 Copyright, 1896, by
 GINN & COMPANY
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED




 CONTENTS.

 INTRODUCTION.
 THE ADVENTURES OF HATIM TAÏ.
  BOOK I.
  BOOK II.
  BOOK III.
  BOOK IV.
  BOOK V.
  BOOK VI.
  BOOK VII.
 NOTES.




 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[i.01]: “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.[b1.01]
 “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[b1.02] 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[b1.03], 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.”[b1.04] 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[b1.05], 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[b1.06] 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[b1.07]; 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.’”[b1.08] 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[b1.09]
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_[b2.01]--_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[b2.02]. 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[b2.03] 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[b2.04]; 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.”[b2.05]

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.[b2.06]

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[b2.07], 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,[b2.08] 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?[b2.09] 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[b2.10]; 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[b2.11], 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[b2.12], 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[b2.13] 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[b3.01];
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.”

On hearing this reply, all the fairies rushed upon Hatim and began to
assail him; but he stood firm, and neither warded off nor returned
their blows. His assailants ceased from their attacks, and wondered in
their own minds what sort of a man he was that would neither fight nor
run away: they therefore, relenting, said to him, “Strange youth, we
warn you, out of compassion, to remain no longer here; this place is
not fitted for your residence, and if you disregard our advice, it
will be at the risk of your life.” To this Hatim replied, “I am not
afraid of death, for I had freed myself from the love of life, and
placed my reliance upon the supreme Creator, ere I entered your
territories.” The fairies, pleased with his courage, addressed Hatim
in a tone of reconciliation, and said, “O youth, eloquent of speech,
come with us, and we shall conceal you in a secret avenue; and if you
are anxious to behold our queen Alkanpari, we shall point her out to
you from a distance.”

Hatim expressed his consent; and the fairies conveying him to an
unfrequented part of the garden gave him food and fruits wherewith to
appease his hunger, and brought him water to drink. Charmed with his
society, they crowded around him, and after various conversation, they
said to him, “Tell us truly, brave youth, what has been the object of
your journey hither?” Hatim replied, “My business with your queen is
this: she once had an interview with a young friend of mine; and left
him at a certain tree, with a promise that she would return to him in
the space of seven days. The youth has now waited there upwards of
seven years in expectation of the fulfilment of her promise; his soul
is on the eve of quitting his body. At short intervals, he exclaims,
‘_Come, oh come! for I can no longer endure thy absence._’ I happened
to observe his miserable plight, and twice to no purpose I asked him
the cause of his sorrow: at length, finding that I persisted in my
inquiries, he told me the whole occurrence. On hearing his tale, my
heart glowed with pity; and for the sake of affording him relief, I
have journeyed hither. My object is to remind your queen of her
promise, as it is most likely that she has ere now forgotten it.”

When the fairies heard this statement, they said to Hatim, “Generous
man, we dare not take upon ourselves to represent your case to our
queen, but we can carry you bound as captive before her, and then you
can exert all your eloquence in behalf of your friend. Were we to
introduce you designedly to her Majesty, we should incur her
displeasure.”--“Let me be presented to your queen,” rejoined Hatim,
“in whatever way is most convenient to you; when once in her presence,
I shall know how to proceed. I shall consider myself happy if I can
promote the suit of my helpless and despairing friend.”

In the course of three days, the queen, accompanied by troops of
fairies, issued from her palace, and proceeded towards the garden
where Hatim lay concealed. At length, she arrived in that paradise,
and after she had rested a little, and received the homage of her
subjects there, one of the fairies who were friendly to Hatim went to
him privately, and said, “Come with me, and I will point out to you
our queen, where you may behold her unobserved.” Hatim followed the
fairy, who led him by a private path to the entrance of a grotto close
to the spot where the queen was seated on her throne of gold. When
Hatim beheld her angelic form, he lost hold of the reins of reason.
For some time he lay senseless; and when consciousness returned into
his frame, in vain did he betake himself to prayer, and endeavor to
flee unto the Lord for protection. In fact, he became more frantic and
more enamoured of the beautiful fairy than the youth whose cause he
had undertaken. Hatim thus spent three days and nights, forgetful of
his friend, and regardless of food and drink. On the fourth night a
feverish sleep overpowered his eyelids, and in his confused slumbers
he heard a voice exclaiming, “Oh, Hatim! arise and know thyself; hast
thou not devoted thy life to the service of thy Creator, and wilt thou
now permit thyself to be guilty of a breach of trust?”

On hearing this warning voice, Hatim awoke from his dream, but saw no
one near him. He rose up, and with fear and trembling prayed to God to
forgive his transgressions, and support him in this hour of trial. On
seeing some of the fairies, he entreated them to conduct him before
the queen. They told him, as formerly, “We dare not openly comply with
your request, but we can carry you into the royal presence with your
hands bound as a prisoner.”--“In whatever way you choose,” said Hatim,
“present me to her Majesty, that I may describe to her the condition
of my despairing friend.” The fairies made their arrangements, and
having found a favorable moment when the queen was in a joyous mood,
they approached her Highness by the garden gate; and one of them
advancing, after due obeisance said, “O queen, one of the race of Adam
has somehow found his way to the gate of our paradise; we have bound
him fast, and are waiting your Majesty’s pleasure as to his future
disposal.”

On hearing this, the fairy queen thought of her lover, whom she had
left under the tree, and considered it as likely that the youth had
thus traced her to her abode; she therefore ordered her attendants to
conduct their prisoner into her presence. The fairies accordingly laid
hold of Hatim, and were bringing him forward to the foot of the
throne. When the queen beheld his majestic mien, all thoughts of her
former lover vanished. She desired him to approach, and having ordered
for him a chair of burnished gold, she took him by the hand, and made
him sit near her. The fairy queen then addressing Hatim, said, “Tell
us, noble youth, whence came you, and what is your name; what has been
your object in coming hither, and how have you been able to accomplish
the journey?” Hatim, now seated before the beautiful fairy, became
speechless, and was unable to give any reply. The queen observed his
confusion, and secretly rejoiced to find that the arrow of her
enchanting glances had pierced his heart. In accents of extreme
affection, she again said to him, “Brave youth, what is the cause of
your silence; have you nothing to say in reply?” Hatim, at length,
rallied his thoughts, and said, “O queen, my answer is brief; I came
from the country of Yemen, and my name is Hatim.”

The moment the queen heard this, she gracefully arose, and taking
Hatim by the hand, seated him on her own throne, saying, “I have ere
now heard of Hatim, prince of Yemen; numerous indeed, brave prince,
are the acts of kindness and generosity which you have done to your
fellow-creatures; but tell me now the cause of your coming hither, and
why you have undergone such toils and perils. Be assured that I am one
of your admirers, so you may freely speak your thoughts without fear
of giving offence.”

Hatim, thus encouraged, spoke: “O queen of the fairy realms, your
kindness is beyond measure: had I a thousand tongues I should still be
unable to celebrate your noble qualities. Be it known, then, that I
have come before your Majesty in the fulfilment of a promise which I
made to a certain enamoured swain. It happened, as I was journeying to
the desert of Himyar, that I passed by a young man, from whose eyes
flowed tears like a shower from the clouds in spring. Owing to his
intense sorrow and lamentation, his soul was almost driven from his
body; indeed, I question if he now lives. There he lay with his eyes
shut, exclaiming in the intervals of his sighs, ‘_Come, oh come! for I
can no longer endure thy absence._’ I asked him the cause of his
sorrow, and how he had been reduced into so miserable a state. After
some hesitation he told me all: how your Majesty had met with him, and
shewed him affection and kindness. ‘Alkanpari,’ said the wailing
youth, ‘promised me at her departure to return in seven days; and now
for seven long years I have waited in misery and woe, expecting her
return. Here I cannot remain, and hence I dare not depart; for when my
angel left me, she laid upon me strict injunctions to move not hence;
I cannot, then, disobey her command, and proceed in search of her. If
fate has decreed that we should again meet, it must be on this spot.’
When I saw the woful condition of this wretched man, and found that
his love was sincere, I deferred the prosecution of my own journey,
and hastened hither. I hope, then, your Majesty will treat with
kindness and compassion the despairing lover. This will lay the
highest obligation on me, the humblest of your slaves.”

To this Alkanpari said, in reply, “Generous prince of Arabia! I had
entirely forgotten the circumstance you mention, till my people
informed me of your arrival here; and then I thought it probable that
you might be my former lover. However, the moment I saw you, I found
that you were not the man; and now I confess to you that he is
unworthy of my regard. His love for me must be very cool indeed,
since, out of pure timidity, he has lingered seven years in one spot,
and has not had the courage to venture hither in quest of me. I
pointed out to him the road, and told him my own name and that of the
mountain which I inhabit, and had he been a true lover, he would have
followed me, were it at the peril of his life.”

Hatim, in favor of the young man, rejoined, “Had his passion been
otherwise than sincere, he could not have so drunk of the cup of
affection nor have undergone such misery from the remembrance of you.
You exacted from him a solemn promise at parting, and how could the
poor lover act contrary to your commands? The enamoured youth is
conscious of his own integrity, for when you departed you strictly
enjoined him to remain underneath the tree till your arrival, and
accordingly he has not stirred thence till now, lest in his absence
you should return and not find him; in which case he would stand
convicted of having disobeyed your orders, and thus incur your
displeasure.”

The fairy queen lent a deaf ear to all that he could urge, and utterly
disowned her former lover. Hatim however, persevered, saying, “For
heaven’s sake let my labor not be in vain; consider through what toils
and hardships I have accomplished my journey hither.”--“Well,” replied
the queen relenting, “I cannot refuse what you request; this youth I
will permit to come near me, but I will neither associate with him nor
consider him as a companion.”--“And why not,” said Hatim, “accept him
as your lover? What is the cause of such a change of mind?”--“Such is
my pleasure,” replied the queen, “and it shall not be otherwise.”--“If
such be your resolution,” rejoined Hatim, “I will stand fasting at
your gates; and, till the hand of death seize me, I will night and day
complain to heaven of your cruelty.”

Having thus spoken, he quitted the presence of the fairy queen, and
having removed underneath the shade of a tree, there he remained for
seven days without tasting food or drinking water. On the eighth
night, as he fell asleep, an old man appeared to him in a dream, and
said, “Brave Hatim, be of good cheer; this beautiful fairy has more
than one lover that laments her treachery: but you must first bring
your friend hither, and then cause him to take the talisman given you
by the bear’s daughter, and steep it in a goblet full of pure water.
This draught will then ferment into a sherbet, and you must contrive
that the queen shall drink of it, which, God willing, will be the
means of restoring her affection.”

Hatim awoke from his dream, and as he was meditating on what had
occurred, the dawn appeared. Meanwhile, approached the fairy queen:
she stood before him, and said, “O Hatim, why do you thus persist in
rejecting my hospitality? If you perish from want at my gates, shall
I not on the day of judgment be arraigned as the cause of your death,
and what will be my answer before the Supreme Judge?”--“O queen,” said
Hatim in reply, “let me prevail on you to send for my love-sick
friend, that he may be blessed even with the sight of your
countenance.”--“Assuredly,” replied the queen, “I have no objection
whatever to his being near me.”

When Hatim heard this, he made preparations to return for his friend;
but the fairy queen said to him, “You need not, Hatim, expose yourself
to the perils of such a journey a second time; my fairies will do the
work much more speedily.” Her Majesty then summoned a few of her
subjects, and despatched them in quest of her lover, saying, “On the
brow of a certain mountain, reclining underneath a tree, you will find
a young man bewailing the cruelty of his mistress. Tell him that
Alkanpari requests his immediate attendance; that she has been
reminded of her promise to him by Hatim, prince of Yemen.”

The fairies, with the speed of the wind, transported themselves to the
spot where the youth lay, and delivered to him the orders of their
mistress. Joyfully he heard the message, and expressed his obligations
to the generous Hatim. The fairies then carried him along with them,
and in the course of that same day presented him to Alkanpari their
sovereign, which rendered his happiness complete. For some minutes his
eyes were fixed on the beautiful fairy, till at length his senses
forsook him and he fell lifeless upon the ground. The queen sprinkled
some fragrant attar of roses on his face; and as soon as he recovered,
she addressed him in the accents of kindness, saying, “Enamoured
youth! I permit you to remain near me, and you may feast your eyes by
beholding me as long as you please.” For the whole of that day the
lover looked at nothing but the beautiful fairy, the fire of whose
eyes consumed his heart. When the mantle of night was spread over
them, the queen gave a signal, and troops of fairies entered, some
with lights and music, to whose harmonious sounds the others danced.
Amidst this scene of joy, Hatim saw that the fairy queen paid not the
least regard to the sufferings of his friend. He went near the latter
and said, “Despair not; take this muhra and immerse it for a few
minutes in a cup full of pure water, which you shall pour into the
goblet from which the queen is wont to drink: this done, return and
take up your station here.” The young man did as Hatim directed him;
and after he had mixed the elixir, and poured the same into the
queen’s goblet, one of the fairies happened to observe him, and said,
“Base mortal! how dare you touch the goblet of her Highness?”

The youth assured the fairy that he merely wished for some water to
drink, as he felt very thirsty. The fairy immediately gave him a drink
of water from another cup, and sent him back to his former station.
Hatim was an anxious spectator of the occurrence; and when he saw that
his friend had succeeded according to his wish, he approached the
queen’s throne, and said to her, “Will your Majesty be pleased to
drink some sherbet, as the weather is warm?” The queen expressed her
assent, and ordered her attendants to bring some. Hatim, however,
undertook to be cup-bearer himself on the occasion; and having with
his own hands prepared the sherbet, he brought the goblet to the
queen. Her Majesty was about to hand the draught to some of her
intimate friends who were then with her, but Hatim observed that the
laws of courtesy required that the queen should drink first, and then
such of her friends as she might deem proper to honor with the goblet.

The fairy queen drank copiously of the sherbet. In an instant the
reins of her heart fell from her hands, and she became deeply
enamoured of the dying swain. Pierced with the darts of love, she rose
up in order to fly to his arms, while Hatim secretly rejoiced to see
her affection thus restored. He also stood up, and said to her, “O
queen of the fairy realms, how comes it that you are now so kindly
disposed towards your lover, who had almost become a martyr to your
cruelty during the long period of your absence?”--“O Hatim!” replied
the queen, “all this mischief is of your doing; however, I forgive
you, and this youth I will accept as my husband, agreeably to your
desire: at the same time I dare not take so important a step without
the consent of my parents.”

Having thus spoken, the fairy queen, accompanied by her select guards,
flew with the swiftness of thought to her principal residence in the
mountain of Alka. There she first waited on her mother, who said to
her in surprise, “My dear daughter, six months are yet to pass of the
period you proposed to reside in the gardens; why return you then at
this unseasonable hour of midnight?” The beautiful Alkanpari stood
speechless, and motioned to her attendants to explain the cause of her
visit. They stated that the fairy queen had fallen in love with a
youth of the race of Adam, and that the flame was mutual; that the
lovers had met upwards of seven years past, but that the queen had for
a long period abandoned her swain to the pangs of absence and despair,
till lately he found means of discovering her residence; and that she
is now willing to accept him as her husband, provided she obtain the
consent of her parents.

The mother, immediately on hearing this, went and represented the
affair to the father, who said in reply, “If such be the wish of our
daughter, I am satisfied; why should we prevent her?” The queen having
received the consent of her parents, immediately sent messengers for
her lover and Hatim, who were soon in attendance. When they arrived at
the palace, the beautiful queen presented the young man to her mother.
The mother commended him to the father, who without more delay made
preparations for the marriage, and according to the usages of the
fairy race, gave the hand of his daughter to Hatim’s friend.

When the enamoured pair were thus joined in the bands of wedlock, the
young man in grateful terms expressed his obligations to Hatim, who
remained with him seven days, and then took leave, in order to
prosecute his journey. When about to depart, the queen inquired of
Hatim to what part of the world he intended to travel; and when he
told her, “To the mountains of Himyar,” she said to him, “Noble Hatim,
give yourself no concern about your journey; Himyar is indeed a long
way off, but my fairies shall convey you thither with the utmost
speed.”

The queen summoned a few of her subjects, and gave them her
instructions respecting the mountain of Himyar. They then placed Hatim
on a howdah, and carried him through the air with such speed that in
the course of twenty-four hours they laid him down at the wished-for
stage. Hatim had no sooner arrived than he heard the voice of the man
who exclaimed, “_Do evil to no one; if you do, evil will overtake
you._”

When Hatim heard this welcome sound, he requested the fairies to leave
him, as he now considered himself at the end of his journey, and had
occasion to stay for some time in these parts. The fairies accordingly
took their leave and departed, while Hatim proceeded in the direction
of the voice which had struck his ear. He had not far advanced when he
observed an old man confined in a cage which was suspended to the
branch of a tree. Hatim stood silent for a short time viewing with
wonder the inmate of the cage, who once more exclaimed, “_Do evil to
none; if you do, evil will overtake you._”

Hatim went close to the prisoner, and said to him, “Tell me,
unfortunate man, what mean these words which you utter; and why are
you confined in this cage, and suspended to the branch of the
tree?”--“Ask me no questions,” replied the old man, “unless you wish
to mend my condition and afford me relief. If you desire to hear my
secrets, you must give me a sacred promise that you will not
communicate the same to any one else.” To this Hatim assented, saying,
“I give you my promise, and I am ready to confirm it by oath.” The old
man then proceeded with his history: “I am by occupation a merchant,
and my name is Hamir. When I became of age, my father had finished the
building of this city, and he called the same after my name. Shortly
after, my father departed on a sea voyage, and left me in charge of
the city. I was a free-hearted youth, and in a short time expended all
the property left under my care by my father. Thus I became surrounded
with poverty and want; and as I knew that my father had hidden
treasures somewhere in his house, I resolved to discover them if
possible. I searched everywhere, but found nothing; and to complete my
woe, I received the news of my father’s death, the ship in which he
sailed being wrecked.

“One day as I was sauntering, mournful and dejected, through the
bazar, I espied a learned man who cried out, ‘If any one has lost his
money by theft or otherwise, my knowledge of the occult sciences
enables me to recover the same, but on condition that I receive
one-fourth of the amount.’ When I heard this proclamation, I
immediately approached the man of science, and stated to him my
condition, and how I had been reduced from affluence to poverty. The
sage undertook to restore my wealth, and above all to discover the
treasures concealed in my father’s house. I conducted him to my house
and showed him every apartment, which he carefully examined one after
another. At length by his art he discovered the stores we were in
search of; and when I saw the gold and silver and other valuables,
which exceeded calculation, the demon of fraud entered my heart, and I
refused to fulfil my promise of giving a fourth of the property to the
man of wisdom. I offered him only a few small pieces of silver;
instead of accepting which, he stood for a few moments in silent
meditation, and with a look of scorn, said, ‘Do I thus receive the
fourth part of your treasure, which you agreed to give me? Base man,
of what perjury are you guilty!’

“On hearing this I became enraged; and having struck him several blows
on the face, I expelled him from my house. In a few days, however, he
returned, and so far ingratiated himself into my confidence that we
became intimate friends; and night and day he displayed before my
sight the various hidden treasures contained within the bowels of the
earth. One day I asked him to instruct me in this wonderful science,
to which he answered, that no instruction was requisite. ‘Here,’ said
he, ‘is a composition of collyrium, and whoever applies the same to
his eyes, to him all the wealth of this world will become
visible.’--‘Most learned sir,’ I replied, ‘if you will anoint my eyes
with this substance, I promise to share with you the half of all such
treasures as I may discover.’--‘I agree,’ said my friend, ‘meanwhile
let us retire to the desert, where we shall be free from
interruption.’

“We immediately set out, and when we arrived here, I was surprised at
seeing this cage, and asked my companion whose it was. I received for
answer, that it belonged to no one. Then we both sat down at the foot
of this tree, and the sage having produced the collyrium from his
pocket, began to apply it to my eyes. But, alas! no sooner had he
applied this composition than I became totally deprived of sight. In a
voice of sorrow I asked him why he had thus treated me, and he
replied, ‘Such is the reward of treachery; and if you wish to recover
your sight, you must for some time undergo penance in this cage. You
must utter no complaint, and you shall exclaim from time to time, “_Do
no evil to any one; if you do, evil will befall you._”’

“I entreated the sage to relieve me, saying, ‘You are a mere mortal
like myself, and dare you thus torment a fellow-creature? How will you
account for your deeds to the Supreme Judge?’ He answered, ‘_This is
the reward of your treachery._’ Seeing him inexorable, I begged of him
to inform me when and how my sight was to be restored; and he told me
that a noble youth should one day visit me, and to him I was to make
known my condition, and further state, that in the desert of Himyar
there is a certain herb called the flower of light, which the youth
was to procure and apply to my eyes, by means of which my sight should
be restored.

“It is now nearly three years since he left me in this prison, which,
though wide open, I cannot quit. Whenever I attempt to leave my
confinement, I feel the most excruciating pain in my limbs, so that I
have not the power of moving, and thus I am compelled to remain. One
day, shortly after my companion left me, I reflected in my own mind
that I could do nothing for myself while I continued like a bird in
this cage, and accordingly I resolved to quit it at all hazards; but
the moment I was outside of it, the pain that seized my whole body
almost killed me. I immediately returned into my prison, and have
since that time resigned myself to my fate, exclaiming at stated times
the words which have already attracted your attention. Many people
have in the meantime passed by me; but on hearing my condition, they
left me as they found me, without administering to my relief. To-day
you have added one more to the number of my visitors: may I ask
whether you intend to assist me?”

When Hatim heard this account from the man in the cage, he said to
him, in reply, “My friend, be of good cheer, I will instantly endeavor
to effect your release”; and without further delay, he proceeded to
the desert in search of the flower of light. We have already stated,
that the fairies that had conveyed him thither, returned, at his own
request, to fairy-land; but when they came before Alkanpari, her
Highness immediately ordered them back to attend upon Hatim while in
the desert of Himyar, and afterwards to conduct him in safety to
Shahabad. Accordingly when Hatim entered the desert he was surprised
at again meeting the fairies. They also recognized Hatim, and having
stated the whole occurrence, offered him their services, and requested
to know whither he was going. “I am going,” replied Hatim, “in search
of the flower of light, which grows somewhere in this desert.”--“We
shall soon carry you to the spot,” replied the fairies; “at least we
can show you from a distance the field where that plant is found; if
you return thence with life, we are in attendance in order to convey
you to your own country; and should aught evil befall you in your
present enterprise, we shall carry the intelligence of it to our
mistress.”--“And why,” said Hatim, “will you not accompany me all the
way?”--“Our approaching the spot,” replied the fairies, “is useless,
and maybe fatal. When this flower is in bloom, the field where it
grows is illumined as it were with brilliant lamps; the beautiful
light which it emits is such that you will easily see the object of
your search; but, on the other hand, around those flowers are
stationed thousands of horrible snakes, poisonous scorpions, and other
formidable creatures without number, so that even the fowls of heaven
cannot approach the deadly spot.”--“Conduct me thither,” rejoined
Hatim, “and leave me to manage the rest.”

The fairies lifted Hatim from the ground, and having swiftly traversed
the air for the space of seven days, they alighted with him about the
time of midnight in an extensive plain. He then asked them to point
out to him the flower which he was so eager to pluck, but they told
him that the season when it should be in bloom had not yet arrived. He
therefore resolved to remain there till the appointed time, and
meanwhile the fairies plentifully supplied him from all quarters with
food to eat, and fruit and water wherewith to quench his thirst. In a
short time the flowers of light began to blossom in the field, each of
them brilliant as a lamp, so that the whole plain became a blaze of
light. The breezes that blew over the desert were loaded with the
sweetest perfume.

Meanwhile serpents, scorpions, and beasts of prey without number,
issued from the bosom of the earth, and completely surrounded the
illumined flowers. The fairies stood aghast, and Hatim observing their
terror, said to them, “Do you keep aloof here so as to be out of
danger; I have placed my reliance upon God, and whatever may happen, I
will not shrink from my enterprise.” Hatim having made this
resolution, took in his hand the talisman of the bear’s daughter, and
fearlessly advancing into the midst of the field, he plucked three of
the largest and most brilliant flowers, and returned unhurt to his
guides. The fairies were astonished at this daring feat, and looked on
Hatim as a being far beyond their comprehension. Obedient to his sign,
they raised him upon their shoulders, and swiftly winged their way
through the air to that part of the desert where Hamir was imprisoned.

Hatim approached him, and said, “Be not sad, my friend, behold the
flower which you say will restore your sight.” The blind man expressed
his thanks to heaven, and said to Hatim, “Brave youth, be pleased to
compress the stalk with your own hands, so that the juice of it may
drop into my eyes.” Hatim untied the cage from the branch of the tree,
and having released the inmate, he applied the liquid to his eyes as
directed. Having repeated this process three times, the blind Hamir at
length opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, fell at his feet and offered
him a profusion of thanks. Hatim kindly raising him up, said, “My good
friend, why make so many acknowledgments? I have devoted myself to the
service of my Creator, and I consider the performance of charitable
deeds as the most lasting felicity.”

The man addressing Hatim in return, said, “Generous prince! my house
abounds with gold and silver and all worldly wealth; accept, then,
such portion of it as you may deem proper.”--“Truly, sir,” replied
Hatim, “worldly wealth is of no use to me, for already I possess far
more than is sufficient for me; I may advise you, however, to expend
your treasures in such manner as may be acceptable to God, in the
bestowing of food upon the hungry, and in clothing those who are
naked.”

Here Hatim took his leave of the old man of the desert, and having
mounted his howdah, the fairies carried him through the air with such
swiftness that in a few days he arrived in Shahabad. He dismounted at
the gates of the city, and the fairies, when about to return,
requested of him to favor them with a letter to their queen,
certifying his safe arrival. To this, Hatim readily agreed, whereupon
his aerial guides took their leave and departed. He no sooner entered
the city than Husn Banu’s people recognized him, and with the utmost
promptness conducted him before their sovereign lady. Husn Banu
received Hatim with the highest kindness, and asked him numerous
questions respecting his adventure. Hatim detailed at length all that
he had seen and performed in the course of his journey. Husn Banu then
presented him with food and drink; but ere Hatim tasted of either, he
requested that his friend the prince of Assyria should be invited to
partake of his fare. Munir was immediately sent for, and after paying
his warmest regard to Hatim, they both sat down and ate together.
After they had finished their meal, Hatim, addressing Husn Banu, said,
“Noble lady, tell me what is your next question?”--“There is a man,”
replied Husn Banu, “who exclaims, ‘_He who speaks the truth is always
tranquil._’ Go, then, and find out that man; inform me wherein he has
spoken the truth, and what degree of tranquillity he enjoys in
consequence.”--“May I ask,” said Hatim, “in what quarter of the world
this man dwells?”--“That,” said Husn Banu, “is unknown to me, but I
have heard from my nurse that the city is called Karam.”--“Enough,”
said Hatim, “I trust that God will direct me in this also”; and taking
his leave of Husn Banu, he proceeded with his friend Munir to the
caravanseraï.




 BOOK IV.

 _Hatim’s perilous journey to the city of Karam--His attainment of the
 object of his desire, and safe return to Shahabad._

We are informed by the learned, that when Hatim left Shahabad, he
prosecuted his journey for several stages, till at length he came to
the foot of a lofty mountain. There he observed at some distance what
he conceived to be a spring of water; but to his intense surprise, on
a nearer approach, he found it streaming with blood. He stood
bewildered, unable to account for a phenomenon such as he had never
witnessed. Wearied and disappointed, he at length resumed his journey,
and in the course of two days his attention was drawn to a tree of
uncommon size, which towered far above the surrounding objects. He
quickly bent his steps towards this stately tree; but when he reached
it, met an appalling sight! To every branch of it was suspended a
human head; and at the foot of it was a lake of a crimson hue from
which a stream of blood issued in the direction of the desert.

Hatim sat down underneath the tree, and viewed with wonder and awe the
spectacle before him; when all at once the deadly silence of the place
was broken by a peal of laughter from the suspended heads. He started
up in tenfold astonishment, for to him it seemed utterly unaccountable
that human heads severed from the body should still preserve their
risible faculties. With no less wonder he saw that the blood
constantly flowed into the lake from the opened veins of those heads.
In deep reflection, he was considering how to unfold this fearful
mystery, when his eye was attracted by the head which stood highest on
the tree. The moment he beheld the enchanting smile of that angelic
countenance, he felt as if his soul would quit its frame, and he fell
senseless upon the earth. After some time his recollection was
restored, and he sat up wondering within himself what could have been
the cause of so strange an occurrence, and why so many beautiful
damsels had been doomed to so cruel a fate.

Hatim considered it unworthy of himself to pass on and take no further
notice of what he had just seen, for in that case he would still
remain in ignorance. He resolved, therefore, to stop for a few days in
that place, in order, if possible, to discover the nature of the
mystery. When the shades of night were about to fall, he withdrew into
a sheltered spot on the banks of the lake, and betook himself to rest.
But ere he closed his eyelids in sleep a change came over the scene
before him, which still further increased his astonishment. When the
last ray of twilight had vanished, he observed that on a sudden all
the heads dropped from the tree into the lake, which in an instant was
transformed into a palace splendidly adorned with gorgeous couches,
and in the midst a throne of burnished gold. Shortly after entered a
train of damsels of fairy form, and amongst them one of surpassing
beauty, who occupied the throne while the rest sat down on the
surrounding couches.

When this brilliant assembly was seated, Hatim took a thorough view of
the queen upon the throne, and was convinced that her head was the
same that he had seen highest upon the tree, and the countenance was
that of which the beauty had ravished his heart. Amongst those who sat
on the couches or stood in attendance on the queen, he could also
perceive many faces already familiar to him. A select number of these
heart-ravishing damsels had musical instruments, the melodious sounds
of which charmed the ear, while the eye was delighted with the
graceful movements of others who danced. Thus passed the first half of
the night, while Hatim looked on with a feeling of wonder and delight,
uncertain whether he was in a dream or enjoying a scene of reality.

About the hour of midnight, tables were spread, and the choicest
viands of every description were brought in. Meanwhile she who
occupied the throne issued orders to those in waiting to place a table
and food before the stranger who sat retired on the border of the
lake. The servants speedily obeyed; and having brought the table and
food to Hatim, requested him to eat, as such was the will of their
queen. “And what,” asked Hatim, “is the name of your fair and
hospitable sovereign?”--“Ask no questions,” replied the attendant
damsels, “as we are not at liberty to satisfy your curiosity. Accept
the bounty thus offered you, and trouble not yourself with the name of
the giver, it being a matter of no moment to you.”--“What you state,”
rejoined Hatim, “is very reasonable; but unless you inform me of your
sovereign’s name, be assured that I will not taste of her food.”

The fairy attendants returned to their queen, and informed her of the
stranger’s refusal of her bounty, whereupon she again sent one of them
to Hatim, requesting him in the meantime to eat of her food, and that
to-morrow he should know all. Hatim still persisted in his previous
request, and endeavored to lay hold of the fair messenger: but she
flew beyond his reach, and took up her station at the foot of the
throne in the humble posture of the other attendants. Again the song
and dance were resumed, and thus the fair assembly passed the
remainder of the night.

When the first rays of dawn began to emerge from the east, the whole
scene vanished as it were into the bottom of the lake. Instantly the
severed heads again rose from the water, and took their station on the
branches of the tree, each in the place it had occupied the preceding
day. Hatim now quitted the spot where he had spent the night, and once
more sat down underneath the tree with his eyes fixed upon the heads,
but chiefly upon that of the queen. Various were the plans he
suggested to himself, though none of them seemed to promise success.
He resolved, however, to use every exertion in the unfolding of this
mystery, and, if possible, break the spell of the enchantment,
whereupon he should claim the queen as his bride.

Thus another day passed by, and again the veil of darkness
overshadowed the earth, when all the heads dropped from the tree into
the lake, and the same scene which he had witnessed the preceding
night was again presented to his view. He sat on the banks of the lake
as before, and waited in anxious expectation the fulfilment of the
queen’s promise. When midnight came he was presented with a table and
food by the damsel whom he had addressed the preceding night. He
reminded her of the queen’s promise, but was requested to eat of the
food and ask no idle questions. “Never,” replied Hatim, “will I taste
of the bounty of your mistress till you have informed me of her name.”
The messenger returned to the queen, and told her of the result. Her
Majesty requested Hatim first to taste of her bounty and then to come
before her, when he should receive the information he desired.

Hatim then partook of the food offered him, and rose up to accompany
the fairy attendant to the queen’s presence. The fairy plunged into
the midst of the lake, and Hatim without hesitation followed her
example. When his feet reached the bottom he opened his eyes, and
beheld, not the lake, nor the stately tree, nor the fairy court, but a
dreary waste which seemed to be the haunt of demons. His love for the
fairy queen, however, was so powerful that he could think of nothing
else. Forgetful of himself, he sorrowfully strayed through this
wilderness for the space of seven days, when all at once he espied a
man of venerable appearance dressed in green apparel, advancing
towards him from the right-hand side.

When Hatim saw this aged man, he stood waiting his approach. The
latter courteously saluted him, and expressed his surprise in finding
him in that desert, which he said was called Jaras. “And how,” said
Hatim, “have I chanced to come hither?”--“Did you not of your own
accord,” replied the man in green, “plunge into the lake, though you
must have known that all you beheld was enchantment? But at present
you are a hundred farasangs distant from it!” Hatim on receiving this
information, threw himself upon the earth in the deepest distress,
saying, “Alas! how shall I be able to retrace my way? I must bid adieu
to life, and yet attain not the object of my desire.”

The aged man, pitying Hatim, said to him, “What is your desire at
present?”--“To return,” replied Hatim, “to the place whence I came.”
The old man holding up a staff, desired him to shut his eyes and seize
it in his hand. This Hatim had no sooner done than he found himself in
his old quarters on the banks of the lake, where he beheld the tree
with the heads suspended to its branches as formerly; but no trace of
his venerable benefactor was to be found. He now sat down,
thoughtfully contriving what course to adopt next, when all at once he
resolved to climb the tree, and bring down the head of the queen. Thus
determined he began to climb, but lo! the tree shook so violently that
Hatim fell to the ground. Again he grasped the trunk of the tree, and
finding that it ceased from shaking, he with great exertion climbed up
about half way to its branches. But here a tremendous sound issued
from the trunk of the tree, which was rent asunder, and Hatim was
swallowed into the fissure, so that only half his body appeared
without.

He deeply repented his temerity, and said to himself, “Now indeed my
misery is complete! I have escaped from the enchanted desert, but this
difficulty I see no possibility of overcoming.” In the agonies of
despair, he exerted all his strength to release himself, but he found
that his body every moment sunk deeper into the tree, till at length
only his head and hands remained visible. In this state his breathing
almost ceased, and he was about to close his eyes forever on this
world, when, behold! the aged man in green stood before him, and said,
“Heedless youth, why have you involved yourself in this calamity? Are
you in good truth tired of your life, that you thus so freely peril
it?”

Hatim was in no condition to reply, so he remained silent. Meanwhile
the aged man struck the tree with his staff, and instantly the parts
of it where Hatim was encased became smooth as oil. The aged man took
him by the hands and drew him from his fetters, but his strength was
so exhausted that he fell at the foot of the tree. When he recovered
his senses, the venerable sage said to him, “Tell me, young man, what
have you to do with trunkless heads, that you should thus involve
yourself in such calamities?”--“I should like,” replied Hatim, “to
know the mysterious cause of their being suspended here.”--“Listen to
me,” said the aged man, “and I will satisfy your curiosity.

“There is a magician whose name is Sam Ahmar, and the head which you
see highest on the tree is that of his daughter. This lady, who was
exceedingly beautiful, fell in love with a youth about her own age,
and wished to marry him. She requested her father’s consent, stating
that she was now of age, and expected that her father would sanction
the choice she had made. On hearing her declaration, the father became
enraged, and inflicted this punishment upon his daughter. This tree,
the lake, and all that you see before you are the effects of his
enchantment. The magician’s residence is in a mountain about a hundred
farasangs distant, and the name of this daughter is Zarīnpōsh. So
powerful is he in his art, that when he pleases he transports himself
hither in less than a day. The place of his abode is called the Red
Mountain, and during his life no mortal can approach his daughter.”

On receiving this information from his aged deliverer, Hatim said,
“Father, I will instantly climb the tree, and rescue the daughter;
even the fear of death shall not detain me.”--“If such is your
resolution,” replied his sage monitor, “you are, indeed, exposing your
life to perils: I warn you of the danger, and I advise you as a friend
to abandon such thoughts.”--“You say well,” rejoined Hatim, “but in
this proceeding I am prepared for the worst.”--“And may I ask,”
continued the old man, “what occasion have you to attempt a task which
you are convinced to be fatal?”--“I am enamoured of the magician’s
daughter,” replied Hatim, “and I will either rescue her, or share her
fate.”

The aged man still persisted in his salutary advice, and Hatim
remained equally firm. At length the former said, “Young man, if you
mind not my counsel, be assured that you will have cause for
sorrow.”--“Alas!” said Hatim, “what is life to me without the object
of my desire? As for sorrow, it is to me familiar, for the word was
written on my forehead the day I first drew breath.” The old man,
without further speech, struck the tree with his staff, and said to
Hatim, “Come and ascend”; after which, he vanished from the place.

Hatim in the meanwhile succeeded in climbing the tree till he reached
the branch where the head of his beloved was suspended. This he had no
sooner touched than his own head was severed from his body and
fastened to the next branch, while his body fell into the lake. When
the hour of darkness arrived, the heads as usual were united to their
respective bodies, and assembled in the enchanted palace in the midst
of the water. There the same scene took place that Hatim had formerly
witnessed: the queen was seated upon the throne, part of which he
himself was allowed to occupy. Unconscious of his own state, he sat
down admiring the beauty of the magician’s daughter. He had not the
least recollection of his former self; he knew not how he came there;
and the idea of escape from thence never entered his mind.

The queen perceived that Hatim was a captive in the fetters of love
and enchantment; but she remained silent, and occupied her attention
with the song and the dance. At the hour of midnight she took his
hand, and having seated him beside her at table, she offered him food
of the most delicious flavor. Hatim ate of her bounty, and spent the
night in mirth and pleasure, forgetful of all that he had ever been.
At break of day his head, along with those of the rest, were suspended
on the tree; and thus he passed several days and nights, when again
the aged man came to his assistance.

The sage touched the head of Hatim with his staff, when instantly his
body ascended from the lake, and once more he was himself. He stood at
the foot of the tree as a man awakened from a dream; his senses
returned, and the moment he beheld his aged deliverer, he prostrated
himself at his feet, and said, “Most wonderful man, you have seen my
dangerous state, and partly relieved me, but much more remains to be
done.” The old man, pointing to the tree, said in return, “Deluded
youth! thou knowest the horrors of the situation from which I have
saved thee, and yet thou wilt not fly the cause of thy misery; thy
affection for this damsel, then, is still unaltered?”--“Incapable of
change,” replied Hatim, “and if, for the sake of God, you lend me your
aid, I may succeed; otherwise, with my eyes open to the dangers which
await me, I am resolved to brave them all for her whom I
love.”--“Since such is your resolution,” resumed the old man, “the
first thing you must do is to slay the magician her father, for till
then the enchantment cannot be broken.”--“That,” replied Hatim, “I
will accomplish, or perish in the attempt.”--“Your efforts will prove
fruitless,” rejoined his mentor, “unless you follow my directions.”

Hatim embraced the knees of his aged friend, saying, “Speak, then, and
I swear never to deviate from your advice.”--“Learn from me,” said the
old man, “the following charm, which consists in repeating certain
attributes of the Deity.”[b4.01] Hatim listened attentively, and
having acquired the charm, was about to depart, when the aged man gave
him his parting advice: “Brave youth, the power of this charm depends
on your own conduct. You must keep yourself pure, and never utter a
falsehood; every day you must devoutly purify yourself with water, and
never break your fast till set of sun; nor must you repeat the charm
at an improper time. These are conditions which you must strictly
attend to; then, should any evil befall you, repeat this sacred charm,
and you will succeed; even the arts of the magician will have no power
over you.”

“But how,” said Hatim, “can I find my way to the mountain of
Ahmar?”--“Seize my staff in your right hand,” replied the other, “then
shut your eyes, and put your trust in heaven.” Hatim did as he was
ordered, and for a few minutes felt that he was moving swiftly through
the air, after which his feet rested upon firm ground. He opened his
eyes, but saw no one near him. Before him stood a lofty mountain,
covered with the blossoms of the tulip, a circumstance which surprised
him much, as it was not then the season for this flower.

Hatim began to climb the mountain, but had not proceeded many steps
when his feet stuck fast to the stones that paved his way. He at first
exerted himself to the utmost, but found all his efforts of no avail;
his feet were immovable as the rock on which he stood. When his
despair was extreme, his mind recurred to the charm which the old man
had taught him. The moment he uttered the divine words of the spell,
he found his feet at liberty, and with elastic steps continued his
ascent along the Red Mountain. Arrived at the summit, he beheld a
wide-spreading plain, in the midst of which was a fountain of cool and
delicious water, surrounded with trees bearing loads of fruit such as
he had never seen. Hatim sat down by the fountain; and having
performed his ablutions, he repeated the words of the sacred charm,
whereby all the beasts of prey, and the poisonous reptiles that
infested the plain, fled from his sight.

When the magician observed the disturbance which took place among his
favorite animals, he had recourse to his books of enchantment. There
he beheld the following sentence: “Know that on a certain day this
mountain shall be visited by Hatim, prince of Yemen, who will render
of no effect all the arts which you possess.” The magician, on
ascertaining that Hatim had actually arrived at the fountain, began to
dive further into the depths of his mystic science, in order to
discover the cause of this visit. To his utter dismay, he found that
Hatim had fallen in love with his daughter, and had come with intent
to slay him, secure under a sacred spell, over which the whole circle
of magic art had no power.

Now the magician saw that his only safety consisted in making Hatim
forget the words of the sacred charm which the old man had taught to
him. Having, therefore, uttered some incantations, and blown with his
breath towards the four quarters of the horizon, in an instant
appeared as it were from the thin air numbers of sprites and fairies,
which drew up in circles around him. He summoned one of these which
bore the resemblance of his daughter, and having placed in her hand a
goblet full of wine, he said to her, “Go and use all thy art to make
Hatim drink of this cup.” The sprite, accompanied with others similar
to those who attended the queen, proceeded to the fountain. When Hatim
observed them, he thought within himself, “These are the same that I
saw at the enchanted tree; can it be possible that they, too, could
have arrived here already?” But he further reflected, that the place
where he was belonged to the father of the fairy queen, therefore it
was most likely that what he saw was no deception.

The sprite which resembled his beloved, gracefully accosted Hatim,
saying, “Brave sir, many are the dangers you have encountered in
coming hither on my account. My father has been pleased to release me
from confinement, and here I walk unrestrained in his gardens. The
moment I saw you my heart rejoiced, and I hasten to assure you of my
sincere affection.” Having thus spoken, the false sprite sat down by
the side of Hatim, and having filled the goblet, gave it him to drink.
Hatim joyfully accepted the fatal pledge, and congratulating himself
on his good fortune in this interview, raised the cup to his lips, and
drained it to the bottom.

The instant Hatim tasted of the hellish draught, the sprite that had
assumed the form of his mistress was changed into a black demon. The
whole of them rushed upon him, and carried him bound in chains before
their great master. The magician, on viewing the noble form and
undaunted brow of Hatim, became thoughtful, and almost relented in his
cruel intention of putting him to death. “Pity it were,” he said to
himself, “that so brave a man should perish; but since he is my mortal
foe, I must have him exterminated.” Having made this resolution, the
magician commanded his obedient imps to seize Hatim bound as he was,
and cast him into the midst of a fiery pit, which blazed night and day
on the top of the mountain.

The sprites laid hold of Hatim, and having cast him into the burning
cauldron which contained a thousand measures of melted lead, they
returned to their master, and informed him that his enemy was
annihilated. The magician, by means of his mystic books, discovered
that Hatim was alive in the midst of the flame. He was utterly
confounded, for he knew that there were very few talismans
sufficiently potent to withstand his art. Again he had recourse to his
books, and at last he found out that Hatim had in his mouth the muhra
of the bear’s daughter. This discovery sadly perplexed the magician,
as it was impossible forcibly to deprive Hatim of the muhra, and he
was invulnerable while he possessed it. The magician ordered his
sprites to release Hatim from the flames, and place him beside the
fountain where he originally sat. The order was speedily obeyed, and
Hatim, thus left to himself, threw off his clothes and bathed in the
cool spring, after which he offered up his prayers to God, and betook
himself to rest. The magician, however, did not yet feel secure; he
assailed Hatim by the same imps as before, and that one among them
which resembled the queen again approached him from the grottoes of
the field, and said to him, “Noble Hatim! I must converse with you
only from a distance, for I dare not sit beside you. To-day I was
enjoying your society, when, lo! my father transformed me into a black
demon, and the rest of my train into furies. We seized you and cast
you into the fire, for we durst not disobey his command. God has
delivered you from destruction; but you must for your own safety shun
my society, for if my father see us together, he will slay us both.”

By these words the heart of Hatim was ensnared; and having stretched
forth his hands, he embraced the deceitful sprite, who said to him,
“Oh, Hatim, dost thou sincerely love me?”--“I love thee,” replied he,
“from my soul.”--“Then,” said the form of his mistress, “let me ask of
thee one gift, and I hope it will not be refused.”--“Name the boon,”
replied he, “and I swear it shall be granted if in my power. Know,
however, that I am poor; if thy wish be gold or jewels, I have none to
bestow: but let me hear the favor thou wouldst ask of me.”

The sprite replied, “I have heard that you possess the muhra of the
bear’s daughter.”--“And how,” replied Hatim, “have you learned this
much?”--“My father,” replied the phantom, “by means of his skill in
books of magic, has made the discovery, and told me that you possessed
the above-mentioned talisman, and I long to have it for myself.”--“The
gift you ask is precious,” replied Hatim, “but you shall have it”; and
he accordingly was about to part with that to which he owed his
safety, and consign it to a demon under the form of his mistress.

Suddenly the aged man in green apparel stood by his side, and seizing
his right hand, said to him, “Deluded man, part not with this
treasure, otherwise you will have deep cause for regret, nay, the
period of your existence will be but short.” Hatim having recovered
from his surprise, addressed his aged monitor, saying, “Venerable sir,
who are you, and why do you thus prevent me from doing what is right?”

The aged man addressing him, said, “Oh, Hatim! hast thou not yet
recognized me? I am Khwaja Khizr[b4.02], who lately taught thee to
utter the attributes of the Most High.” Hatim quickly advanced, and
prostrate himself at the feet of the saint, saying, “Thou heavenly
being, to thee I owe my success in thus attaining the object of my
affection.”--“Deluded man,” replied the prophet, “knowest thou not
that this is all enchantment? Already hast thou been deceived by this
false form. The first time thou didst sit by this fountain, the
magician sent thee this sprite with a cup of hellish drugs, on the
tasting of which thou wert deprived of sensation. Did they not in
consequence cast thee into the fiery gulf, and dost thou not owe thy
safety to this muhra, which thou art about to give away? Hatim, if thy
life be dear to thee, part not with this treasure. To convince thee of
my sincerity, utter the charm which I have taught thee, and if this
form be really the fair daughter of the enchanter, she will still sit
by thee; if, on the other hand, it is an evil spirit, it will vanish
from thy sight in a flame of fire.”

Hatim kissed the foot of the saint in token of grateful submission;
and having performed his devotions and purified himself in the
fountain, he pronounced the sacred charm. The moment he opened his
mouth, the light of truth began to shine upon him. The magic sprites
trembled before him, and a flame of fire issued from their heads as
from a furnace. In a few minutes their whole bodies burnt like dried
wood, and they were reduced to ashes. So infatuated was Hatim,
however, that he regretted the change: for while he had not the power
of seeing his beloved, he at least consoled himself in contemplating
her image, of which he was now deprived.

In this state of sorrow Hatim spent the night with weeping and
lamentation, nor did sleep once close his eyelids. Meanwhile the
magician, by the potency of his lore, conjured up the great
Iblis[b4.03] (on whom be curses), and held a consultation with him on
the state of his affairs. The spirit of evil said to him, “Foolish
magician; of Hatim’s life a long period has yet to pass; such is the
divine decree, and no power in earth or hell can slay him. ’Tis vain
for thee to combat with fate; why, then, dost thou not submit, and let
Hatim have thy daughter in marriage?”--“To no living creature will I
give my daughter,” replied the magician, “as long as I have the breath
of life.”--“Tell me, then,” said Iblis, “what wouldst thou with
me?”--“Briefly,” answered the other, “this Hatim hath twice defied my
power, and rendered my art of no avail; he knoweth the most sacred of
charms, and I hope that thou canst poison his memory so as to make him
forget it.”--“Thy request is vain,” rejoined Iblis, “for over the
unerring decrees of the Almighty I have no power or control. The
Eternal hath willed that Hatim’s fame should be perpetual, and he hath
commissioned the prophet Khwaja Khizr (on whom be peace) to assist him
in his bold undertakings. To me, therefore, there is no possibility of
entering his heart while he possesses the sacred charm. But this much
I can do, I can cause sleep to overpower his eyelids, and fill his
imagination with such tempting dreams as are common to mortals.”

The magician, on hearing this, bowed down and worshipped his great
master, who assured him of his assistance, and winged his course back
to the infernal regions. In the meantime Hatim forgot his sorrows in
sleep, and reason having for a time abandoned the guidance of his
imagination, he revelled in the most tempting dreams of worldly
vanity.

When Hatim awoke from his dream he felt his senses confounded, and got
up with the intention of purifying himself in the fountain and
repeating his sacred charm; but the magician having conjured up a
monstrous demon, was ready to assail him with his diabolic arts. When
Hatim found himself thus beset, his heart trembled within him: for,
polluted as he was, he durst not utter the sacred charm, and otherwise
how could he resist his enemy! The demon seized him thus irresolute,
and carried him before the magician, who ordered him to be bound in
chains and cast into a pit, over the mouth of which a large stone
should be placed. The order was speedily executed; and when Hatim
found himself thus incarcerated, he composed his thoughts, and poured
out his soul in prayer before the Almighty Creator.

After he had passed seven days and nights in this dungeon, without
tasting food or drinking water, the magician, expecting that he must
ere now be subdued with hunger and thirst, sent some of his imps to
examine his condition. But to these Hatim paid no regard, nor would he
answer any of their inquiries. The magician, informed of this, said to
them, “Return to Hatim, and tell him that if he will give me the muhra
of the bear’s daughter, I shall set him at liberty.” On hearing this
proposal, Hatim said to them, in reply, “Go and say to your master,
that he shall have the muhra, provided he give me his daughter in
marriage.” When this was communicated to the magician, his rage was
beyond bounds; he assembled all his imps, and having led them to
Hatim’s place of confinement, be ordered them to collect large stones,
and dash them on Hatim’s head till he should die. The attendants
accordingly procured as many stones as they could carry; and having
bound Hatim in a conspicuous place, they began to execute the orders
of their master, saying, “Now prepare for instant death, for your
muhra shall no longer avail you; the magician has empowered us to
crush your head to pieces.”--“Tell him,” said Hatim, “that I defy all
his power, and by the aid of heaven, I will yet slay him.” Scarce had
he done speaking, when a shower of stones was aimed at his head; but
to the utter astonishment of the magician and his imps, when the
stones came within a few yards of their mark, they diverged in all
directions without taking the least effect. Thus the whole of the
stones passed by Hatim, and lay in a heap on either side of him. The
magician soon understood the cause of this, but his attendants could
not believe what they had seen. “To convince yourselves,” said their
master, “go and examine whether this man be alive or dead.” The imps,
laying aside their missiles, went up to Hatim, and to their surprise
found him untouched. When their astonishment had a little abated, they
renewed their assault, but with no better success. After the heap of
stones around Hatim had increased tenfold, they once more went up to
him, in order to be assured that their senses did not deceive them;
and on finding him still unhurt, they again resumed their attack,
which they continued uninterruptedly for seven days. Hatim all along
remained unhurt by their blows, but his frame was quite exhausted with
hunger and thirst. At length he addressed them, saying, “Your efforts
are in vain; you must ere now be convinced of the potency of my
talisman, as the fire has not burnt me, nor do the stones which you
now throw in the least hurt me. But my thirst is past enduring, and I
am willing to give even the muhra to him who will carry me to the side
of the fountain, and prove that he is worthy of so great a power. The
muhra has many virtues; for instance, should the possessor of it
desire to kill the magician and occupy his throne, he will be enabled
to do so.” The imps, however, refused to listen to him, saying, “We
have no will but that of our master, and your muhra can be of no use
to us.”

One of the demons that stood nearest to Hatim intimated to him by
signs that when the darkness of night should set in, he would take him
to the fountain as he desired, with which arrangement Hatim expressed
his satisfaction. When night arrived, the guards sunk in sleep, while
the demon aforesaid, instigated with the desire of possessing the
muhra, remained awake. At the hour of midnight, he softly stole from
amidst his companions, and said to Hatim, “Now is your time, let me
conduct you to the fountain.”--“Willingly,” replied Hatim; “but how is
it possible for me to be released from my fetters?”--“Leave that to
me,” said his guide, who on uttering some unearthly charm conjured up
two monstrous demons, as it were, from the empty air. These speedily
removed the stone which confined Hatim, and allowed him to come forth,
when his guide conducted him to the wished-for spring.

As soon as Hatim arrived at the fountain, he devoutly began to perform
his ablutions. Meanwhile the demon interrupted him, saying, “Now,
young man, remember your promise, and give me the muhra, for on this
condition I brought you hither.”--“Assuredly,” replied Hatim, “since
you have done me so great a favor, I will make a proper
requital.”--“And what return can you make,” said the demon, “except
the fulfilment of your promise?”--“What will be of more value to you,”
replied Hatim; “when I shall have slain this magician, Sam Ahmar, I
will establish you as king in his stead.”--“I covet not royalty,”
rejoined the demon, “I demand, and must have the muhra.”--“For whom do
you ask it?” said Hatim. “For myself alone,” replied the demon.
“Fiend,” said Hatim, “had you asked it of me in order to promote the
service of the Almighty Creator, I should have given it to you. But
your words now prove you to be unworthy of it.”--“The only God we
acknowledge,” rejoined the demon, “is Iblis, the great preceptor of
our sovereign Sam Ahmar.”--“Silence, blasphemer!” cried Hatim; “the
God whom I adore is the creator of the universe; and were it not that
you have lately served me in my need, I should at once treat you as
you deserve.”--“Let us cease wrangling,” said the demon, “it is easy
for me to deprive you of the muhra by main force; but if you give it
of your own accord, I shall spare your life; otherwise, I shall drown
you in this fountain.”--“Slave of Iblis,” rejoined Hatim, “begone and
leave me; you are not fit to receive the muhra.”

Hereupon the demon began to assail Hatim with enchantment; but the
latter pronounced the sacred charm, whose potency made his adversary
tremble through every joint. He instantly fled from Hatim’s presence,
and took shelter in the midst of his friends, where he lay down and
feigned sleep, that no one might know what he had done, as he dreaded
the vengeance of his master should the truth be known.

Hatim, now freed from the power of his enemies, passed the night in
meditation and prayer beside the fountain. When the morning dawned,
and the sentinels opened their drowsy eyes, they one after another
went to visit their charge, but no trace of Hatim could they find.

Their terror was beyond description, for what answer could they return
to their formidable master when he should call them to account?
“Assuredly,” said they, one to another, “he will not this day leave
one of us alive.” At length they put ashes on their heads, and with
trembling steps presented themselves before the magician, saying,
“Alas! mighty sir, the young man under our charge has made his
escape.”

Their master calmly consulted his books, and soon discovered the real
state of affairs; viz., that one of the sentinels, whose name was
Sarmak, had in the course of the night released Hatim from prison, and
conveyed him to the brink of the fountain. The magician was highly
enraged, and said to the guilty sentinel, “Faithless wretch! how durst
thou thus release thy prisoner? Thy life shall answer for it; prepare
for instant death.” Sarmak considered that now, as he had no hope of
mercy from his master, his best plan would be to fly to Hatim and
implore his protection.

With the speed of lightning Sarmak fled from the presence of the
magician, and having reached the fountain where Hatim sat, he
prostrated himself at his feet, and said, “Noble sir, my life is about
to be sacrificed on your account; save me, as I never harmed you. I
have been truly unfortunate; on the one hand, you gave me not the
muhra, and for serving you my life is in danger.”--“Make yourself easy
on that score, Sarmak,” replied Hatim; “you will find that I have both
the will and the power to return your kindness.” When the magician
discovered that his servant had fled to Hatim, he instantly began to
assail them both with his deadliest art. The effect was soon
perceptible on Sarmak, who exclaimed, “Help me, brave Hatim, I burn”;
and a flame issued from the crown of his head. Hatim pronounced the
words of his awful spell, and instantly the flame that burnt his
companion became cool as the breath of a zephyr. Sarmak, respectfully
approaching his deliverer, said, “Valiant sir, henceforth I am
entirely yours.” Hatim tendered him his hand, and both of them
proceeded towards the magician’s capital. Meanwhile Sam Ahmar
discovered their intentions; and having assembled all his subjects who
were fit for battle, he led them forth into the plain without the
city, and began to put in practice all his spells. As Hatim and his
companion were approaching this formidable array, on a sudden the sky
was overcast with black clouds, the lightning flashed forth in
streams, and the thunder began to bellow. “Brave Hatim,” said Sarmak,
“have a care of yourself; this is caused by the art of your enemy.”
Hatim uttered the sacred charm, and having blown with his breath
towards the clouds, the storm withdrew, and all was serene.

The magician, thus foiled, again resumed his task. Stones of vast
dimensions were seen to rise from the earth; and having ascended to an
immense height in the sky, they began a swift descent towards the spot
where Hatim stood. This shower of rocks must have crushed Hatim to
pieces, as he had not observed its approach; but Sarmak exclaimed,
“Hatim, beware! here is another specimen of the enchanter’s power.”
Again he repeated the divine spell, and breathed towards the stones as
they descended, when, lo! their course was altered; and having passed
directly through the thickest of the magician’s army, they swept to
the ground four thousand of his bravest men. One of the stones almost
struck the head of the king; but seeing its course, he pronounced a
spell and blew it aside with his breath. Amidst this consternation,
Hatim and his companion advanced, whilst their enemies, terrified,
said to one another, “Let us save ourselves. This man is too powerful
for us to oppose.” When the magician beheld the near approach of his
adversary, he once more exerted his skill. In the twinkling of an eye,
dragons of the most terrible aspect were seen to rush from all
quarters towards the devoted Hatim. He again uttered the sacred charm
of the immortal Khizr, when all the dragons bore their furious onset
against the magician’s host; and so terrible was the slaughter, that
of his whole army scarce three thousand now survived, while full
twenty thousand lay dead on the plain.

The few that survived became convinced that Hatim was more powerful in
the magic art than even their great sovereign, whom they now resolved
to abandon. Addressing the magician, they said to him, “Sire, is it
your purpose thus to expose us to wanton slaughter? It is too evident
that we have no power to cope with this formidable adversary; we must
therefore save ourselves by flight.” The magician, enraged, shouted to
them in a voice like thunder, “Base cowards, whither do ye fly? A few
minutes more and Hatim is my prisoner.”

His words were unheeded by his shattered host; and seeing them thus
quit the field, he uttered one of his spells and blew his breath after
them, when every man was changed into a green tree. Thus left alone,
Sam Ahmar, by means of some incantation, was furnished with a pair of
wings, and soared aloft into the air. Hatim was not prepared for this
stratagem of the enemy: he stood in astonishment as he beheld the
magician darting through the clouds, anxiously expecting another
display of his powerful art. But his adversary seemed to resign the
struggle, and at length was lost to sight among the clouds.

Hatim, then addressing Sarmak, said, “I shall not consider my labor at
an end till this magician is my prisoner.”--“At present,” replied
Sarmak, “he is gone to his great preceptor, Kamlak, the mighty
magician. This last exacts from his disciples the homage due to the
Great Creator.”--“Know you aught of his abode?” inquired Hatim. “Full
well,” answered Sarmak, “for once every year we used to visit him and
do him homage, and if you will accept of my guidance, I am ready to
conduct you thither.”

Ere Hatim would trust his guide, he had him solemnly initiated in the
mysteries of his own faith; and when about to set out on their
journey, Sarmak drew his attention to a forest close by, saying,
“Those trees you behold are the remains of the magician’s army, and
here they must rest till the last trumpet shall sound, unless your
superior skill restore them to their original form.” Hatim took a cup
full of water, and breathing over it pronounced the divine name, and
handing the cup to Sarmak, said to him, “Go and sprinkle a few drops
of this liquid among the trees.”

Sarmak received the liquid as ordered; and as soon as he had sprinkled
the same upon the trees, these were restored to their original shape
of human creatures. They asked Sarmak, “What is become of our great
master the magician?”--“Know ye not,” replied Sarmak, “that the slave
of Iblis, by means of his enchantment, transformed you all into trees,
and that you owe your deliverance to the more potent art of Hatim, the
true servant of the Almighty? He it was who blew with his breath on a
cup of water, and pronounced a charm which the powers of hell cannot
withstand. He then gave me the water; and the moment I sprinkled it
over you, by the blessing of Allah, you resumed your primitive form.
As to your late master, Sam Ahmar, he has made his escape from before
the brave Hatim, and now he holds communion with Kamlak, chief of
enchanters. But tell me,” continued Sarmak, “what were your thoughts
when thus transformed, and what did you feel when you stood under the
appearance of trees?”--“In the first place,” said they, “as we were
about to fly, we felt all at once our feet cleave to the earth, so
that we had not the power of moving; then a most painful sensation
seized our whole bodies; but now, blessings upon Hatim, we are again
ourselves. Truly he is most powerful to have obtained such a victory
over our sovereign, and henceforth Hatim only shall receive our
services.”

Having come to this resolution, they marched and presented themselves
to Hatim, and making their most profound obeisance, said, “Brave
Hatim! we have hitherto served Sam Ahmar; but now we tender our
services to you, who have so kindly rescued us, though we lately
sought your life.” Hatim received them graciously; and having
pronounced the sacred charm, he breathed on all of them, so that they
became perfectly free from the enchantments of their late master. This
done, they said to him, “Noble sir, whither will you now lead us?”--“I
have not yet done with Sam Ahmar,” replied Hatim, “for till I have
made him my prisoner, I can attend to nothing else. If he should of
his own free will give me his daughter in marriage, I shall let him
escape with life, otherwise I am resolved to slay him.”--“And may we
ask,” said his companions, “how you became acquainted with the
magician’s daughter?”--“As I lately happened to journey through a
certain desert,” replied Hatim, “my attention was drawn to a large
tree on the border of a lake; there, to my astonishment, I beheld the
head of the magician’s daughter suspended to the highest branch, while
the heads of her attendants hung lower down on the tree.”

Hatim detailed to his hearers the whole affair up to that moment, and
in conclusion said, “On her account have I journeyed hither; what
reception I met with from her father, you have witnessed. I hope,
however, that in the end the Almighty will render me victorious; and
should it be agreeable to his divine will, I will slay the magician on
the very threshold of his grand preceptor to whom he is just gone,
nay, the master himself shall not escape me.”--“Have a care, noble
Hatim,” said his attendants, “the enchantment of Kamlak is the most
potent in existence.”--“Fear not for that,” rejoined Hatim; “but if
you wish to see what will happen, come with me, if your hearts fail
you not.”--“You have already restored us from death to life,” said
they; “it shall never be said, then, that we lacked either honor or
courage so far as to desert you. Lead wheresoever you will, and
thither we follow you.”

On hearing this declaration, Hatim expressed his satisfaction; and
having invited them to follow, he set out for the mountain where dwelt
Kamlak, the grand magician. His attendants, however, not liking the
length of the journey, said to him, “Brave sir, our late sovereign,
Sam Ahmar, was wont to carry us to this mountain in less than the
space of a day.”--“But,” replied Hatim, “you know well that he did so
by means of his enchantment.”--“And can you not do the same?” rejoined
his followers; “assuredly you are more cunning in the magic art than
our master, otherwise you could not have conquered him. The power of
Sam Ahmar was such that he could reduce a mountain to an atom, and
magnify a particle of dust to the size of a mountain; yet this mighty
enchanter fled from before you, and unless you were thoroughly skilled
in the magic art, you could not think of pursuing him.”

Here Sarmak checked their speech, saying, “Fools that you are, Hatim
uses no enchantment; but well I know, from what I have already
witnessed of him, that he will soon conquer Sam Ahmar, even if aided
by Kamlak.”--“My friends,” said Hatim, “a heavenly man hath taught me
a divine charm, and wherever I utter the same, no enchantment can be
of any avail against me. With this sacred charm, the magician has no
power to cope.”

They marched onwards with Hatim at their head, and soon found
themselves on a road of which they were utterly ignorant. All at once
they arrived on the bank of a lake of the purest water; and as their
thirst was great, they began to drink copiously. But the moment they
had done drinking, the water began to gush out at the soles of their
feet.

Hatim, astonished at this strange occurrence, refrained from tasting
the water, thirsty as he was. He at length asked his companions how
they felt, but no answer did he receive. They stood like statues with
their eyes fixed upon him. Thus passed the whole of that night, Hatim
suffering the pangs of hunger and thirst. When morning dawned, he
looked at the faces of his attendants, which were all swelled up like
so many leathern bottles, so that their eyes even could not be seen.
His sorrow was beyond control; but at length he reflected that what he
saw might be the effect of enchantment. He therefore pronounced the
sacred charm, and in an instant the swelling abated; he repeated it,
and from every part of their bodies a green-colored liquid was seen to
issue. A third time he uttered the divine words, and his companions
received the full enjoyment of all their faculties.

Hatim’s joy was now equal to his previous sorrow, while he listened to
the grateful prayers of his rescued followers. At length he asked
them, “Can you explain the cause of your late calamity?”--“The cause
is evident,” they replied; “this is the road by which the magician
travelled, and he enchanted the water of the lake.” Hatim pronounced
his charm, and breathed on the water. It first became agitated like
the boiling ocean, and its color was red: then it changed to green,
and gradually settling, became pure as crystal. Hatim, now assured
that no traces of the enchantment remained about the water, drank of
it freely, and invited his companions to do the same without fear. He
also enjoined them to bathe therein.

All of them accordingly allayed their thirst, and bathed their bodies
in the now pure and wholesome lake, whereby every trace of their late
calamity left them, and their confidence in the power of Hatim became
complete. They tendered him their sincere gratitude, and said,
“Forward, brave Hatim! we will follow you even until death in your
contest with the magician Sam Ahmar and his master Kamlak, for you are
far greater and better than they.” Hatim resumed his journey, and his
companions joyfully followed.

Meanwhile Sam Ahmar, defeated and downcast, fled to the presence of
Kamlak. The latter observing his dejected state, asked him, “What
misfortune hath befallen thee, that thou comest in such woful
plight?”--“Great master,” replied the magician, “I come to implore
thine aid. Hatim, my superior in the magic art, hath expelled me from
my residence, and hither have I fled to escape his vengeance.” Kamlak,
enraged at this intelligence, said, “Rest thee content, my son, I
shall soon vanquish this Hatim, and having made him my captive, resign
him to thy disposal.”

Immediately Kamlak began his enchantment, and took measures to fortify
the mountain which he inhabited. In an instant the whole mountain was
wrapt in flames so bright as to leave no distinction between night and
day. Four days after, Hatim arrived, and his companions addressing
him, said, “This is, indeed, the mountain where Kamlak dwells; but why
does it thus burn? Assuredly this is caused by his enchantment.”

Hatim devoutly recommended himself to heaven and pronounced the sacred
words of Khizr; and the flames ceased to issue from the mountain.
Kamlak was soon informed of his foe’s approach, and how he had
quenched the flames by the mere breath of his mouth. He now tried the
power of his art in a different manner. On all sides of Hatim and his
companions floods of water were seen to rush, as if the ocean had
burst from its channels. “Help us, Hatim,” exclaimed his friends, “or
we shall be drowned; these waters are the creation of Kamlak.” Hatim
repeated his spell; blew with his breath on the waters, which
instantly stood still, and in a short time no trace of them was left.
Kamlak was highly mortified in seeing his power a second time defied,
and once more he and his disciple renewed their attack. The clouds
began to shower stones of five to ten tons in weight, but Hatim was
prepared for this also. He and his friends sat secure under the power
of the sacred spell, while the storm for three days and nights fell
harmless around them. At length, when the heap of stones beside them
reached the height of a mountain, so that nothing else was visible,
Hatim pronounced his charm, and all was annihilated; after which, he
boldly marched towards the mountain. The arch-magician then uttered an
incantation, whereby the mountain entirely disappeared from Hatim’s
sight: he, however, nothing daunted, sat down with his companions, who
were astonished at this last feat; and having uttered his powerful
spell he awaited the result. After three days the mountain again
appeared, and Hatim and his friends began to ascend.

Meanwhile the attendants of Kamlak informed him that Hatim and his
followers were at hand. On hearing this, the magician formed a canopy
of clouds three thousand cubits above the summit of the mountain.
Thither Kamlak and Sam Ahmar with their attendants transported
themselves, and made every entrance fast. Hatim at length reached the
summit of the mountain, where he beheld a spacious city. On entering,
he found it full of food and fruits, also the most delicious wines,
with everything that could excite the palate. His companions
immediately began to eat; but the moment they tasted the infernal
fare, they became inflated like bottles, as had previously happened at
the enchanted lake. Hatim at once discovered that the arch-magician
had laid this snare for him. He took a cup full of water as
previously, and having pronounced the charm over it, gave it to them.
As soon as they tasted of this precious draught, the effects of the
enchantment ceased. Hatim then breathed over the whole of the
victuals, and said to his friends, “Now you may eat your full.” Their
hunger appeased, he asked them whether they knew into what part of the
clouds above them the magicians had betaken themselves. They replied,
that Kamlak and his disciple were in a cloud of the shape of an
immense dome that towered above the rest. Hatim pronounced the sacred
name, and seven times blew his breath towards the heaven, when all at
once the mass of clouds with the magicians in it fell with a crash on
the top of the mountain. Hatim’s enemies were so astounded by the
fall, that they became an easy prey. Their limbs were disjointed, and
many of them were crushed to atoms, and their polluted souls plunged
to perdition. Sam Ahmar and Kamlak soon recovered their senses, and
fled along the mountain. On a sudden they plunged headlong over a
precipice, and resigned their souls to Iblis, the prince of darkness.

It may be easily conceived that Hatim’s joy was great at this defeat
of his enemies. He devoutly bowed his head and poured out his thanks
to God. This done, he addressed Sarmak, saying, “To thee, my friend, I
owe a boon. I promised thee that on defeating these magicians I should
bestow their kingdom on thee. This promise I am ready to fulfil, but
on condition that thou wilt acknowledge no other God, save the true
and Almighty Creator, and that thou wilt protect his worshippers from
injury and oppression.” Having thus addressed his friend, he summoned
to his presence the rest of his attendants, and said, “I here in the
presence of you all appoint Sarmak your future sovereign, whom you
shall obey; and you must acknowledge the true and living God, to whom
you shall consider yourselves as servants, and you shall worship him
night and day, for of a surety, if you act uprightly, he will reward
you accordingly. Meanwhile, farewell! I must hasten to the presence of
the queen of beauty, Zarinposh.”--“God be with you, brave man,” they
all exclaimed, “rest assured that we shall strictly abide by your
orders and never disobey the ruler whom you have appointed over us.”

Thus parted Hatim with the subjects of the late magician. Night and
day he hurried onwards till he reached the enchanted lake. There he
found several of the damsels whom he had formerly seen, stationed as
sentinels near the place. “Whence and what are you?” cried the first
of them he met. “I am,” replied he, “the same who passed several days
in your society as I lately travelled this way; I even shared your
penance, for my head was for some days suspended to the branches of
the tree that overhangs yonder lake; I pray you, convey my most
courteous greeting to the beautiful queen, your mistress.” The fair
sentinel ran to her sovereign with this intelligence, saying, “Noble
mistress, a young man, whose name is Hatim, stands at your gate; he
once passed some days with us when under the influence of the
enchantment, and now he craves admission into your royal presence.”

The queen, after some consideration, said, “Where can Hatim have been
since that time? I believe, however, he has since then journeyed to
the mountain of Ahmar, and most likely he will be able to furnish us
with some tidings of my father; go and ask if this be the case; and if
so, admit him.” The damsel made the necessary inquiry, and was thus
answered by Hatim, “The magician was one who feared not God, and now
his soul is consigned to perdition, and he will get the reward due to
his iniquities, for he has been cut off in the midst of his crimes;
but all this must be detailed in the presence of the queen.” The
sentinel returned and stated to her mistress what Hatim had told her.
On hearing this news, the queen was exceedingly grieved, and tears
fell copiously from her eyes. Her damsels endeavored to console her,
saying, “Royal mistress, to weep for the death of such a father as
yours is a crime. It is certain that had not your father died, we
should have still remained in the bonds of his cruel enchantment; but
now let us introduce Hatim, and ask of him the circumstance.” The
queen assented, and Hatim, by her request, approached the royal
presence. Zarinposh, arrayed in splendid apparel, sat upon an emerald
throne studded with jewels.

Hatim cast a single look at the queen; his senses abandoned him, and
he fell lifeless before her. Alarmed at his apparent illness, she
hastily rose, and seizing a phial of rose-water, sprinkled part of it
on his face. When his senses were restored, the queen ordered for him
a splendid couch set with gold and jewels, and made him sit beside
her. Then in the sweetest tones he ever heard she began to converse
with him on the subject of his journey and the death of her father.

Hatim detailed all that he had seen, and suffered and acted, without
the least reservation; and added, “For thee, fair queen, I have
undergone all these perils and toils. May I hope that my afflictions
will bring forth the fruit of joy, and that you will reward my pains
with the pleasure of your society, for without you I would sooner die
than live.” The damsels in attendance all supported Hatim’s suit, and
said, “Our gracious sovereign, this is the renowned prince of Arabia;
happy for you was the day when he came here. He loves you sincerely;
leave him not to despair. Think not of your father’s death, for he was
a magician who delighted in cruelty and oppression. Well has it been
for mankind that this brave youth has rid the world of such a
monster.”

At last the queen consented, and after the usual ceremonies, she was
wedded to Hatim. He, however, when on the point of giving himself up
to the pleasure of her society, all at once became dejected and
thoughtful. He remembered his friend Munir, the Assyrian prince; and
the thoughts of the pangs he must endure so affected Hatim, that a
trembling seized his whole body. His bride observed his emotion, and
stood in the utmost perplexity, thinking that she was herself the
occasion of it. “Alas!” said she, “what have I done in his sight that
he should view me with such aversion, or what can I do to arrive at
the cause of his uneasiness?” The queen, resourceless as she was,
remained silent, when at length Hatim observed that she was affected
by his strange conduct; he therefore resolved to explain to her the
whole affair, in order to clear himself of disrespect towards her: “My
soul and life,” said he, “why are you cast down? why should the sun
and moon be obscured? Know, my beloved, that I have left my home for
the sake of the Assyrian prince Munir, who is deeply enamoured of Husn
Banu. This lady has proposed seven questions, and her hand shall be
the reward of him who may solve them. The Assyrian prince in vain made
the attempt, and on his failure, was wandering he knew not whither. I
found him in the deserts of Arabia; and having returned with him to
Shahabad, I undertook to solve the questions, and at present my friend
resides in one of the caravanseraïs of that city. I have already
travelled and found out the solutions of three of these enigmas, and
now I am in quest of the fourth. When I saw you, however, I forgot
myself and the rest of the world, and now when it has pleased God the
Supreme to unite us in the bonds of love, the thoughts of my
despairing friend have disturbed my soul. Yea, I have made a vow that
I should perform my utmost to serve the Assyrian prince; and to me all
worldly pleasures are forbidden, till he has obtained the object of
his desire. It would then be highly improper that I should give myself
up to enjoyment while he lives in the pangs of expectation; I must,
therefore, proceed instantly to the city of Karam.”--“And what is to
become of me in the meantime?” asked the bride. “I intend,” replied
Hatim, “to convey you to Yemen, my native country, where my father is
king.”

And so Hatim sent his bride with her attendants to his father’s
dominions in Arabia, while he himself proceeded to Karam, which he
reached in the course of a few days. On meeting some of the people
there, he asked, “Pray, friends, can you tell me if there is a man in
this place who exclaims, ‘_He who speaks the truth is always
tranquil’?_”--“Truly, stranger,” said they, “there is no man here such
as you inquire for; but we know of a man of extreme old age who has
written above his door these very words.”--“Can you tell me,” asked
Hatim, “where he lives?”--“His residence,” replied they, “is about
three farasangs from this city, in a village called Old Karam, for
there the city Karam once stood.”

Hatim immediately set out, and in the course of that afternoon arrived
at the village of Old Karam. There he beheld a splendid mansion, on
the door of which were written the words of the enigma. He went up to
the gate and knocked with his hand; whereupon a voice from within
reached his ear, saying, “Stranger, whence art thou, and what is thy
business here?”--“I am from Shahabad,” replied Hatim, “and my business
is with the owner of this mansion.” The janitor hastened to his master
with this intelligence, and was ordered to admit Hatim without delay.

The master of the house, an elderly man, received Hatim with due
courtesy, and hospitably entertained him with food and drink. After he
had refreshed himself, his host said, “Pray tell me, stranger, what is
the cause of your journey hither, and from what country are you? It
has never been known that more than two foreigners have visited this
place, and of these two you are one.”--“Venerable sir,” replied Hatim,
“I am a native of Yemen; and I came hither from the city of Shahabad,
where dwells an Assyrian prince, named Munir. This noble youth is in
love with Husn Banu, the queen of that city; and he cannot acquire the
object of his wish, except he procure the solution of seven questions
which she has proposed. Three of these I have already answered, and
now I am in quest of the fourth, which is no other than the words
written above your door.”

The aged man replied, “Brave Arab! thou art truly noble; and long will
thy fame survive thee in the world. Assuredly there lives not another
man who would, for the sake of a friend, encounter such toils and
perils as thine. But to-day thou hast come from afar, and it is fit
that thou shouldst repose for the night; to-morrow I shall explain to
thee the circumstances connected with the words written on my
door.”--“I am willing to comply with your hospitable injunctions,”
rejoined Hatim, “but there is one thing which I wish to ask of you.
The people of Karam told me that your age was far beyond the ordinary
limits; yet you seem to me little past the prime of life, not a hair
of your head yet gray. Is it true, then, as they say, that you have
lived since the time when the city of Karam stood on this
spot?”--“Brave Hatim!” replied the aged man, “retire to rest for this
night, and to-morrow you shall be informed of all you ask.”

Hatim accordingly betook himself to repose, and passed the night in
pleasant slumbers. When morning came he arose, and after enjoying the
banquet of his host, he renewed the subject of the previous evening.
The aged man replied, saying, “Listen, then, Hatim: it is now seven
hundred years since Karam stood here; but my age is really eight
hundred years, however I may appear to you. In my youth I was a
gamester, and night and day my whole business was gambling. One day it
happened that my fortune forsook me, and I lost everything I
possessed. Thus destitute, I sallied out as soon as it was dark, in
order to rob or steal, as might be most convenient. I considered at
the same time, that in attacking the poor and humble I should likely
have nothing for my trouble; I resolved, therefore, to attempt the
palace of our king. I softly approached the walls of the royal
residence, and fastened my scaling-ladder, made of ropes, to a window.
When all was quiet, I entered one of the apartments, which happened to
be that in which the king’s daughter slept. The attendants of the
youthful princess lay senseless outside the apartment. I seized her
gold and jewels, as likewise the golden lamp that burned beside her,
and unobserved made my escape from the palace. In my flight I came to
a desert, where I met a gang of thieves busily occupied in the
division of their spoil. The moment these saw me, they shouted,
‘Stand, traveller, tell us who thou art, and whence thou comest.’ I
told the thieves the occurrences of my life, and how I had broken in
upon the king’s palace, and carried off his daughter’s jewels. I then
displayed to their astonished sight a very large ruby, which they no
sooner saw than their avarice was whetted, and they were about to
wrest it from me by force, when a tremendous sound issued from the
desert, so loud that the earth trembled under us. The thieves,
terrified, betook themselves to flight, while I stood riveted to the
spot.

“The person from whom this voice issued approached me, and sternly
said, ‘Tell me truly who thou art, and whence thou camest here.’ I
told him every circumstance of my wicked life, and showed him the
treasure I had so unlawfully obtained, not concealing the high-prized
ruby. ‘’Tis well for thee,’ said he, ‘that thou hast told me the
truth. I forgive thee thy crimes, and leave thy treasure to thine
enjoyment; but swear to me solemnly that thou wilt henceforth avoid
gambling.’ I then made a vow in the presence of heaven and that
formidable being, that I would never gamble. ‘Well,’ said my strange
monitor, ‘keep thine oath sacred, and the years of thy life shall
reach nine hundred.’

“Thus we parted, and I returned to this spot, which was then a
populous city, and with part of my wealth built this mansion. Some of
my old acquaintances envied my prosperity, and informed the
superintendent of the city that I had lately been a poor man, and now
that I was possessed of immense wealth, so as to build a mansion like
that of a prince: ‘assuredly,’ added they, ‘he cannot have come by
such treasures honestly.’ The magistrate summoned me to his presence:
to him also I detailed all that I had done, without the least reserve.
When he heard my statement, he conducted me, as in duty bound, before
the king, whom I had so greatly offended.

“To his Majesty, also, I told the whole truth. When the king heard me
to an end, he freely forgave me my crime, and gave strict orders that
none should thenceforth upbraid me on that subject. ‘This man,’ added
his Highness, ‘has all along adhered to the truth, and therefore he
deserves my forgiveness. I have never yet seen or heard of so daring a
thief as he is, that would have the manliness to confess his guilt as
he has done.’ The king not only left me in possession of what I had
stolen, but also gave me gold to such amount that it is not even yet
expended. On that day, as soon as I returned from the royal presence,
I wrote on my door, ‘_He who speaks the truth is always at ease_,’ as
an admonition to every one who might see it.”

When the man of truth had finished his history, he said to Hatim,
“Now, generous Arab, you have heard my tale; and I am truly happy in
having had the power thus far to serve you. Besides yourself, noble
Hatim, there lives not on earth the man who would encounter the
dangers and fatigues of the journey from here to Arabia.” A few days
after, Hatim took leave of his aged host, and began to retrace his way
to Shahabad. In the course of his journey, the thoughts of Zarinposh,
his lovely bride, constantly occupied his mind. In vain did he try to
think of his friend Munir, and of Husn Banu’s seven questions; he
therefore resolved, ere he returned to Shahabad, to visit his bride in
his paternal halls.

One day, as he arrived at the borders of Yemen, to his great joy he
came to a fountain of pure water. On his nearer approach to the
spring, he observed a brace of the fowls called būtīmar[b4.04]; and
as he knew the languages of all creatures, he attentively listened to
the following conversation of the birds: “My dear mate,” said the
female butimar, “you shall not thus depart; I pray you abandon all
thoughts of this undertaking.”--“Cease thy foolish prating,” returned
the male; “what I am about to do is a service acceptable to the
Creator, to whom all beings are responsible; and seekest thou to
prevent me, merely to suit thine own whim? When did a wise man ever
regard the advice of a woman? Are you not all false; and why, then,
should I be guided by you? Have you not heard the story of the king,
who was heartily ashamed of his folly in being misled by a woman?”

The female butimar having expressed great curiosity to hear the story
of the king, the male thus began: “Once upon a time a certain king
went out on a hunting excursion, and after toiling the whole day
caught nothing. As it drew towards evening he lost his way, and
wandering through the desert apart from his attendants, he came to a
beautiful garden. He entered, and after walking about for some time he
came to a palace, close to which was an artificial pond of water. The
king, greatly fatigued, sat down on the brink of the pond, and as he
was performing his ablutions, his hand caught hold of an iron chain.
This he began to pull towards him, but found strong resistance, as if
some great weight were attached to it.

“The king took hold with both his hands, and pulling with his whole
force at last succeeded in bringing to land a chest to which the chain
was fastened. His curiosity made him open the chest, for the key was
tied to it. To his immense astonishment, on opening it, he beheld
inside a woman of surpassing beauty. He stood for some minutes
completely lost in admiration of her charms, without the power of
moving a muscle.

“Soon the woman broke silence, saying, ‘Noble sir, be not thus
bewildered, I am made of flesh and blood as you are.’ Hereupon she
came out of the chest, and having taken out with her a bottle and
goblet, she offered the prince a draught, which he drained to the
bottom. They both sat down on the green bank, and conversed together.
At length the king remembered his situation, and the anxiety which his
attendants must feel on his account. He rose to take his departure.
Pulling a valuable ring from his finger, he offered it to the lady,
saying, ‘Accept this as a remembrance of me, for I must now take my
leave of you. I hope, however, we may meet again, and on your showing
me this ring I shall know her with whom I have passed the most
pleasant moments of my life.’

“The lady, on hearing this declaration of the prince, laughed aloud,
and drew from her bosom a whole string of rings, saying, ‘Noble sir,
you must know that my husband is extremely jealous of me, and cannot
even endure my residing in a place inhabited by mankind. He has,
therefore, conveyed me to this solitary garden in the midst of the
desert. Every night he comes and lives with me in this palace. When he
departs in the morning, he shuts me up in this heavy chest, with a
sufficient allowance of food and drink, and then casts chest and all
into the lake where you found me. Many princes and nobles have lost
their way when hunting in the neighborhood, as you have done, and on
coming hither, discovered my prison. These also released me for a time
from my durance, enjoyed my society, and gave me rings at their
departure, of which here is ample proof. I keep the rings, indeed, by
me, but their number is so great, that I really cannot recollect which
is which; therefore, brave sir, I shall willingly accept and preserve
your ring, but I cannot take upon me to remember the giver.’ The
prince, on hearing this impudent confession, shut the woman in the
chest as she requested, and having consigned her to her watery
dungeon, he made the best of his way home. On his arrival at the royal
residence, his attendants observed that his brow was clouded and his
heart ill at ease. At length, the ministers of state ventured to
approach him, and humbly represented their sorrow for his sadness,
hoping that they themselves were not the cause.

[“His Majesty related the whole adventure as it had happened, and
expressed the most thorough contempt for womankind in general. The
prime minister, on hearing the king’s adventure, assured him that the
fact was notorious throughout every city in his dominions, and that it
was in vain to be disheartened for the inconstancy of women. The king
at length banished the subject from his thoughts, and resumed his
wonted cheerfulness and affability towards his faithful
servants.”[b4.05]

Thus ended the story of the butimar; after which he said to his mate,
“In like manner, I doubt not, you are as faithless to me, and why
should I be guided by your advice, and prevented thereby from doing
what I consider right? Do you think I am to be like Hatim Taï here,
who undertook to serve Munir the Assyrian prince, and has now
withdrawn his hand from his noble task, owing to the charms of a
woman, such is the power of the female sex over the wisest of men?”

When Hatim heard the edifying discourse of the butimar, he felt
ashamed of himself, and thanked his Creator that had thus warned him
of his backsliding in due time. Instead therefore of continuing his
course to Yemen as he intended, he turned aside, and took the road to
Shahabad. On his arrival there, the people of Husn Banu joyfully
received him; and having conducted him to the caravanseraï, they gave
intelligence to their mistress of his safe return. Husn Banu invited
him to her palace, and after hospitably entertaining him, she received
a full account of his adventure. Hatim then returned to the
caravanseraï, where he passed the night in the society of his friend
the prince of Assyria. Next day he revisited Husn Banu, in order to be
informed of the nature of the fifth question. The lady most
courteously received him in her palace, and said to him, “Brave Hatim!
the fifth task which I have to impose on you is, ‘To bring me an
account of the mountain called Nida.’” Hatim then took his leave of
Husn Banu; and ere his departure, he once more had an interview with
the Assyrian prince, and said to him at parting, “My dear friend, be
of good cheer. I am now about to proceed on my fifth expedition,
which, I trust, God will render propitious; meanwhile, farewell!”]




 BOOK V.

 _Hatim’s journey to the mountain of Nida._

The historians inform us, that as Hatim was journeying toward the
desert of Nida he continued to ask his way in every city and town
through which he passed. In the course of six months, as he was
approaching a large city, he saw all the inhabitants assembled in a
spacious plain outside the walls. Hatim thought, “What can be the
cause of this concourse? I must go and inquire.” With this view, he
was hastening towards them; and as soon as the people saw him, they
exclaimed, “Welcome, stranger; may your arrival be happy; we are
waiting for you.”

When Hatim found himself amidst the crowd, he looked around him, and
saw, to his surprise, large tables furnished with food and drink of
every variety. He also observed a coffin laid out in state, and
surrounded by the relatives of the deceased. The chief of the
assembly, addressing Hatim, said, “Such are our customs, stranger,
that when any of our people die, whether rich or poor, we thus
assemble in the plain without the city, and prepare a banquet of the
most delicious viands. At the same time, it is one of our rules that
we taste not of the food, nor bury our dead, till the arrival of a
stranger among us. When a stranger arrives, we make him first eat of
our fare, after which we ourselves feast. This is now the seventh day
that we have been here without attaining the object of our
expectation. Every day we had the feast ready; and when evening came,
and the stranger arrived not, we sent the food back to the city for
our wives and children, for they are not prohibited from eating. As
for ourselves, we have neither eaten bread nor drunk water for the
last seven days. You may guess, then, noble stranger, with what joy we
this day hail your arrival. We shall now bury our dead and break our
long fast.”

Hatim observed to them, “What becomes of your dead, and how do you
contrive to live should it so happen that no stranger visits you for
the space of a month?”--“That,” replied they, “is a rare, nay, an
improbable case, for we are never above a week without seeing a
stranger; and if it should happen that none comes, we are allowed to
break our fast on the fifteenth day, and thus we do every fifteenth
day till the stranger arrives: such is our law. With regard to our
dead, no decay takes place till the end of at least a month.”--“And
may I ask,” rejoined Hatim, “what would you do with your dead, if you
should not be visited by a stranger even in the course of a
month?”--“If, by the expiration of that period,” replied they, “the
dead body should become offensive, we bury it, and in such a case all
the inhabitants of the city, both men and women, are made to fast by
day for six months after, and we are allowed only to take a little
food after sunset. This penance we undergo for the good of the soul of
the deceased; for when the body thus putrifies, we look upon it as a
proof that the deceased had led a sinful life, and we accordingly
offer up our prayers in his behalf before the throne of the Most
High.”

Hatim still continued his inquiries, saying, “But if in these six
months of fasting another should die, what would you do?”--“We should
keep him in the same way,” they replied, “till the arrival of a
stranger among us, or failing this at the end of a month, we should
bury him if necessary, and betake ourselves to fasting and prayer on
his behalf till the expiration of six months, after which we should
hold a feast, and bestow alms in abundance on the poor of our city,
and give gifts to all that are in need, and do acts of kindness
towards one another. We then walk in procession to the tomb of the
deceased, where we again distribute money among the poor and helpless,
after which we resume our usual occupations.”

While Hatim stood wrapt in wonder at this singular custom, the people
bore the dead body into the interior of the house, and having
stretched it on an elegant couch, they embalmed it with costly
perfumes, and burnt frankincense around it; after which they brought
in the food that they were to eat, and carried the same seven times
around the couch. This done, the food was brought out and placed on
tables, when the chief of the assembly, addressing Hatim, said,
“Worthy stranger, stretch forth thine hand and taste of our food. Thy
compliance will greatly oblige us, as we shall then be at liberty to
appease our hunger.” Hatim ate of the food as requested, and after him
all the people sat down and ate. The remains of the feast they sent
back to the city for their women and children to feed on. They then
changed their raiment, each clothing himself in clean apparel; and
having sent the clothes they had cast off to the fullers, they took up
the dead body and proceeded towards the desert.

As they were about to depart, the chief said to Hatim, “Brave
stranger, I hope you are not to leave us immediately; if, then, you
choose to rest a few days in our city, every attention shall be paid
to you.” Hatim willingly accepted the invitation; and having entered
the city, a splendid mansion was appointed for his residence, and the
choicest food and drink placed before him. Nor was this all; damsels
of surpassing beauty were sent to entertain him with their enchanting
society.

Hatim could not help wondering in his own mind at the strange customs
of the city where he happened to arrive; however, he ate temperately
of the food presented to him, and paid not the least regard to the
beautiful damsels. In the course of a week the governor of the city,
informed of Hatim’s affable disposition and temperate habits, sent for
him; and after the usual salutations, said to him, “Noble stranger, I
am so delighted with the accounts I hear of you, that I beg of you to
take up your residence among us, and my own daughter shall be your
wife.” Hatim, having thanked the governor for his kind offer, said
that he had business on hand which admitted of no delay. “At least,”
resumed the governor, “let me know the object of your journey, and I
will do my utmost to aid you, or even accompany you in person, if it
will in any way serve you.”--“Truly, sir,” said Hatim, “I am indebted
to you for your goodness, but I should be sorry to let any one
accompany me through the fatigues and perils which await me.”--“At all
events,” said the governor, “let me know your business.”--“Willingly,”
replied Hatim; “and if you can direct me on my way, it will serve me
as much as if you accompanied me.”

Hatim then related every circumstance connected with Husn Banu, and
her lover Munir; and how he had himself solved four of the lady’s
questions, and was then in quest of the solution of the fifth, which
was, _to bring an account of the mountain of Nida_. “It is now,”
concluded Hatim, “six months since I left Shahabad; I have wandered
through many cities, and made inquiries of every person I met, but no
one has been able to give the necessary information. If you, noble
sir, can tell me where the mountain of Nida is situated, it will serve
me as effectually as if you accompanied me thither.”

The governor was a man of years, and possessed of much information; he
remembered, then, of having heard from the learned that a mountain of
this name, of immense altitude, was situated towards the south in the
regions of Zulmat. He informed Hatim of the same, and further, that
there was close to the mountain a city of the same name, where the
people were immortal; “in these regions,” concluded he, “diseases and
death are unknown, nor is there a tomb to be seen in all the place.”
On hearing this statement, Hatim was highly delighted, and said,
“Thither I must go as soon as possible.”--“But how,” rejoined his aged
friend, “can you go there unattended?”--“God will be my guide,”
replied Hatim.

The governor then offered Hatim gold and costly jewels, of which he
accepted a small portion for defraying his expense by the way; and
having caused the rest to be distributed among the poor, he resumed
his journey. In the course of three months he arrived at a large city,
around which he saw no tombs or receptacles for the dead, whereby he
was satisfied that it was the city alluded to by his informant and
benefactor. When Hatim entered the city, the people crowded around
him, and began to question him, saying, “Tell us, stranger, whence are
you, and where are you going?”--“I am,” replied Hatim, “from Shahabad,
and I am on my way to the mountain of Nida.”

“Stranger,” resumed the people, “abandon such thoughts: the mountain
of Nida is far distant, and the road full of danger.”--“I fear no
danger,” replied Hatim, “for my trust is in God, who is my
conductor.”--“At least,” said they, “rest here for the night, as you
are much fatigued.” Hatim accepted their hospitable invitation, and
there reposed for the night.

It happened on that day that one of the inhabitants of the city fell
sick; whereupon his relations assembled and instantly killed him,
after which they divided his flesh into equal portions among
themselves in order to be eaten. One of the people whom Hatim had
conversed with on entering the city, being a relation to the
slaughtered, received his portion of the flesh, and had it roasted for
his evening meal in the house where Hatim resided. He then brought in
a jug of water and two loaves, along with the flesh of his relation,
and with eager hospitality addressed Hatim, saying, “Stranger, I
invite you to partake of my repast, for never in your life have you
tasted of similar fare.”--“I believe,” replied Hatim, “I have eaten of
the flesh of every granivorous animal on the face of the earth; may I
ask what animal has furnished this dish, since you imagine that I have
not yet seen the like?” The man triumphantly replied, “What you say
may be very true, but have you ever eaten of the flesh of man, for
such is the dish now before you!”

On hearing this, Hatim remained horror-struck, and thought within
himself that this must be the city of the cannibals of whom he had
before heard accounts, and that most probably they killed and ate
every stranger that came near them. His host seemed to read his
thoughts, and accordingly broke silence, saying, “Yes, this is the
city of the cannibals, and the time is coming, stranger, when some of
us shall feast upon you.” Hatim, thus aroused, said to the man, “Is it
possible, sir, that you kill the helpless stranger, and then devour
him? Have you not the fear of God before your eyes?”--“Brave Arab!”
resumed the cannibal, “we are not quite so bad as you suppose, for we
do not slay the traveller who comes among us knowing nothing of our
customs.”--“You told me just now,” replied Hatim, “that this is man’s
flesh before me; I concluded that it must have been that of a
stranger, and not of one of your own tribe.”--“Quite the contrary,”
rejoined the man of hospitality; “it is the custom of our city that
when any one falls sick, his relations assemble and kill him, in order
to put him beyond suffering.”--“Accursed be such inhuman practices,”
replied Hatim; “know you not that the Creator of the universe at one
time visits his creatures with sickness; and again, when it pleases
his divine will, bestows health? What, then, can be more heinous than
to slay the sick with your own hands? The shedding of the innocent
blood of so many thousands is a deed most revolting to humanity; nay,
it is a sin for human eyes to look upon you.”

Hatim having thus spoken, rose up and fled into the desert. He halted
not for the whole of that night, nor next day till sunset, when he
thought himself far enough removed from the accursed city. Having
slackened his pace a little, he continued to proceed leisurely till
the following day, when the pangs of hunger quite overpowered him.
Necessity forced him to commit what at another time he would have
considered highly cruel--he killed a young fawn; and having kindled a
fire with a flint, he sat down to dress some food. Meanwhile a lion
stalked up to him; and Hatim, nothing daunted, said to the lion, “If
thou art hungry, here is all the food that I possess: eat and be
satisfied.”

The lion accordingly devoured the whole of the fawn, except the small
portion that Hatim had on the fire; after which, he drank water from a
fountain hard by and departed. Hatim having appeased his hunger, and
allayed his thirst with water from the spring and such fruit as the
jungle produced, resumed his journey. After he had traversed the
parched desert for a great part of the day, his thirst became
excessive. At length he perceived at a distance the appearance of
mountains rising above the plain. The sight cheered him, as he
expected soon to quench his thirst in the cool streams wherewith the
hills are generally blessed. His disappointment, however, was grievous
when he found nothing but heaps of moving sand raised by the blast of
the simoom. Exhausted, he sat down underneath a solitary tree; and
shortly after he observed a shekshar (a sort of water-fowl) close by
him, its wings quite wet. He rose with renewed strength, and made
towards the shekshar, which flew away at his approach. In that spot,
however, he found a treasure--a spring of the purest water. He
prostrated himself on the ground, and offered up thanks to the
Bestower of Mercies; after which he allayed his thirst at the spring,
and resumed his journey.

After a long march through the desert, he at length saw symptoms of
human habitation. Towards evening, as he was entering a highly
cultivated country, he beheld a large fire kindled in a field, around
which a crowd of people had assembled. Hatim, supposing it to be some
display of public rejoicing, approached the people, and said to them,
“Tell me, my friends, what country is this? what is the cause of your
cutting the hair of your heads and faces in that fanciful manner? what
are you doing, thus assembled round the fire? and why this immense
pile of dried wood?”--“This,” replied the people, “is the funeral pile
of one of our male relations, whose body is now consuming in the
sacred flame; and along with him, his widowed wife has burnt herself
alive.”--“And do you not, then, bury your dead under the earth?”
inquired Hatim, “and why did you cast the helpless widow into the
flames? Assuredly the blood of the innocent is on your hands.”

“I perceive you are a stranger in this country,” replied the man whom
Hatim had addressed: “this is the empire of India, and it is the
custom of the Hindoos that the widowed wife should burn herself alive
on the funeral pile of her husband. We have not cast her by force into
the fire; she has burnt herself of her own free will.”--“Truly,”
resumed Hatim, “it is a most dreadful custom to burn the living with
the dead!” and having thus spoken, he betook himself to the road, for
he looked on the Hindoos as little better than the cannibals from whom
he had lately parted.

All night Hatim continued his journey, and ere noon the following day
he came to a large village. Fatigued, and exhausted with hunger and
thirst, he entered the house of one of the villagers to procure rest
and refreshment. He asked a drink of water from the man of the house,
who immediately brought him a pitcher full of churned milk, and
another of sweet milk. The man of the house having placed the milk
before Hatim, hospitably addressed him, saying, “Stranger, here are
two sorts of drink, both cool and refreshing; take either you choose
and allay your thirst, for your lips are parched with heat and
fatigue.” Hatim took first the churned milk; and having drained it to
the bottom, he was about to drink the sweet milk, when his host
observed to him, “Stranger, you lack food as much as drink; the rice
is ready boiled for my morning meal, let me bring you a part of it,
which you may eat along with the milk.”

Hatim most courteously thanked his benevolent entertainer, and
inwardly admired the unassuming kindness and hospitality which he
experienced in the Hindoo cottage. Meanwhile his host returned with
the boiled rice, and laid it before Hatim, who ate heartily of it, and
afterwards betook himself to repose. So exhausted was he by his late
toils, that he awaked not till next morning, when his Indian friend
addressed him, saying, “Noble stranger, the morning meal is ready, and
I wait for your company ere I break my fast. You are, however, too
much exhausted yet to resume your journey; I hope, therefore, you will
rest here for two or three days longer, till your strength is
completely restored.”

Hatim arose, and after partaking of his host’s simple fare, he said to
him, “Generous Hindoo, the blessing of God will assuredly reward your
benevolent actions, and your kindness to the stranger.”--“Brave Arab,”
said the Hindoo, “as yet I have done you very small service, and I
shall not consider it in the light of hospitality unless you pass
three days and nights under my roof.”--“If,” replied Hatim, “such is
your pleasure, I willingly accept your invitation.”

The Hindoo then entertained Hatim with accounts of his country, and at
the next meal presented to him a variety of the most delicious food.
Hatim was highly charmed with the manners of his host, his
disinterested kindness, and the plain but healthy fare which was
presented to him, so that in his rapture he exclaimed, “Surely
Hindoostan is the paradise of the world!” After various conversation,
Hatim remarked to his host what he considered as a stain upon the
Hindoo character, otherwise so very amiable. “Excuse me, my kind
host,” said he, “if I say that one custom peculiar to your country is
horrible; I mean the immolation of the living widow with the dead
husband. I have been accustomed to see the dead consigned to the dust
from which they came, and the sacrificing of the living is revolting
to my ideas of humanity.”--“Noble Arab,” said the Hindoo, “such is the
opinion of strangers; but when you consider the affection that exists
between the wife and husband, a tie by far the strongest in nature,
you can easily conceive that when the one dies the other should find
life insupportable: nay, it would be wonderful indeed if a tie so
strong should admit of separation. Imagine not that we force the widow
to burn herself on the pile. She follows her husband, of her own free
will, with a joyful heart, as the only consolation left her upon
earth. Of this, stranger, you may be fully satisfied, if you abide
with us some days.”

It happened on that morning that the chief of the village, who had
been for some time dangerously sick, died, leaving behind him four
wives. One of these had two sons, another three daughters, and the
other two no children. Towards evening preparations were made for the
funeral, and the dead body borne out.[b5.01] The four widows
followed, dressed in their most costly raiments, adorned with all
their jewels, with chaplets of fragrant flowers encircling their
necks, and bunches of the sweetest fruits suspended around them. In
their hands they held the sacred leaf of the betel-tree, which they
from time to time chewed.

The relatives of the widows crowded round them, and supplicated them
with tears not to cast away their lives; but they were inconsolable,
and deaf to all entreaty. All this Hatim witnessed; and, resolved to
be convinced by experience, he approached the widows, and said to
them, “Fairest of women, what madness is this! Can it be possible that
you sacrifice your lives, and abandon your children, in compliance
with a custom so void of reason, so revolting to humanity?”

One of the ladies, with an angelic smile, replied, “Stranger Arab, I
forgive you, as you know not the custom of our country, otherwise your
rudeness is unpardonable, in daring thus to address us who are dead to
the world. We follow our husband to heaven. In our lives we were happy
together, and why should death part us? Where would be the humanity of
making us linger in this world, when the Supreme decree hath called
him hence? May God forbid that the deceit of Satan (on whom be curses)
should so far mislead us as to forget our only beloved lord, and
attach ourselves to another. Without him, our life would henceforth be
an intolerable burden. Why then should we not accompany our best
beloved? Why not burn on the same pile, that our ashes may mingle with
his, while our souls wing their flight to the regions of the blessed?”

Thus spoke the widow of the chief, regardless of Hatim’s earnest
entreaties. The pile was now ready, and the four victims, with
frenzied enthusiasm, pulled off their ornaments, and distributed them
among their relations on all sides. They then ascended the pile, and
placed themselves around the dead body of their husband. Two of them
clasped each an arm in her bosom, and the other two his feet. Thus
situated, they for the last time looked round, and gave a parting
smile to their weeping relatives; after which, a vast quantity of
dried wood was heaped over them, and the fire was applied all around.

Hatim, scarcely believing what he saw, waited the result in anxious
silence, for he expected to see them every moment rush from the
flames. In this, however, he was disappointed; not a shriek was heard
from the pile, nor the least appearance of any attempt to escape. At
length the whole pile was reduced into a heap of ashes, over which
Hatim shed tears as he contemplated the fate of the victims, while his
generous heart admired their affection, misplaced as it was.

At length the crowd dispersed to their homes; and as Hatim was
quitting the scene with his Hindoo entertainer, the latter observed to
him, “Noble Arab, I hope you are now convinced that our women are not
compelled to sacrifice themselves. It is purely an action of their own
free will, and constitutes one of the noblest displays of conjugal
affection.”--“You speak truly, generous Hindoo,” replied Hatim, “yet,
in my opinion, the best proof of constancy in the wife to the
deceased, would be, to live singly after his death; and by rejecting
the addresses of other lovers, convince the world of her sincerity.
This would be an ordeal, perhaps, more trying than even the flames of
the funeral pile.”

In a few days Hatim, being completely recovered from his late fatigue,
said to his host, “My dear friend, I must now part with you, for I am
on a journey to explore the mountain of Nida.”--“Let me prevail upon
you to go no farther,” said the Hindoo, “for the route is long and
dangerous, and it is not in man to reach your destined stage.”--“My
trust is in God,” replied Hatim, “who can conduct me thither, and
bring me back in safety.” Having thus spoken, Hatim resumed his
journey, and night and day he advanced from city to city, and from
town to town, till he reached the northern frontiers of India. After
crossing an extensive desert, he saw a large city at a distance before
him, and thanked his Creator who had guided him once more to human
habitations.

Within a short distance of the city gates, Hatim beheld a large
concourse of people; and as he approached nearer, he could hear the
sound of many voices, as if they were engaged in debate. On his
arrival among them, he asked one of them, “Tell me, my friend, what is
the cause of this uproar which I hear?”--“The daughter of our chief is
dead,” replied the man, “and they are insisting that her husband shall
consent to be buried alive with her, a measure which he does not seem
to relish: this, stranger, is the cause of the tumult which you now
witness.”--“Worthy sir,” resumed Hatim, “is it your custom too, to
bury the living with the dead? I see this unfortunate man is anything
but compliant; surely you will not cast him alive into the tomb. Have
you not in your hearts the fear of God, in whose hands are life and
death?”

The chief himself having heard Hatim’s expostulation, said, “Hear me,
stranger, before you condemn us. This young man, who was my daughter’s
husband, once came into our city a traveller like yourself. He took up
his residence among us, and in the course of time fell desperately in
love with my daughter. The flame was mutual, so that I had no
objections to their union, provided he should conform with our custom,
which is, that if the wife dies first, the husband shall be buried
alive with her. To this he agreed, and now he will not perform his
promise.”

Hatim, on hearing the merits of the case, addressed the young man, and
said, “Shame upon you, why do you not perform your promise? Life is at
best but short and uncertain; and for this you are willing to stain
your reputation!” The young man with tears in his eyes, said,
“Generous stranger, have you too ranked yourself among my enemies? Let
me ask you if such a custom would be tolerated in your own country?”

“That,” said Hatim, “is not the question at present, but whether you
ought to fulfil your agreement.”--“It is madness,” replied the young
man; “and while I live I will not submit to it.” When Hatim saw that,
on the one hand, the people would not inter the dead body; and, on the
other, the husband would not consent to be buried alive, he took the
latter aside, and whispered to him, “Do you consent to be buried, and
at a proper opportunity, I pledge you my faith that I will release
you.”--“But how am I to live in the tomb,” said the man, “till you aid
in my resurrection?”--“Leave that to me,” said Hatim, “I will provide
for you.”

Hatim then addressed the people aloud, and said, “The young man
consents to be buried alive; but the tomb must be made like a cell as
it is in his own country, with an aperture left to let in air and the
light of day. If, therefore, you form the tomb like a cell, with a
small window, the young man is willing to comply with your
custom.”--“So much indulgence,” replied the chief, “it is not in my
power to grant; but I am ready to refer the case to the magistrate,
and abide by his decision.” The parties concerned, along with Hatim,
went forthwith to the judge of the village, who after a great deal of
deliberation, decided that the young man should have a tomb made for
him after the fashion of his own country; “for it would not become
us,” said his Worship, “to deal rigorously with a foreigner, although
the law is in our favor.”

The people immediately set to work; and having finished the cell, they
there incarcerated the surviving husband with the dead wife, and
planted a guard over him to prevent his escape. As he was about to be
shut up, Hatim gave him every assurance that he would release him at
midnight, and therefore he might without fear comply with the custom
of the place. The people having shut the tomb, which they secured with
a large stone, strewed various flowers over and around it, so that the
grave was covered with them. They then, except the sentinel, returned
to the city, whither they conducted Hatim. They entertained him in the
most hospitable manner, and provided him with an elegant mansion for
his residence. Hatim having appeased his hunger and thirst, and
enjoyed some hours of repose, began to watch for an opportunity of
rescuing his friend from the tomb.

When midnight had arrived, and all the people were asleep, Hatim stole
out quietly, and made his way to the burial-ground. But there he had
to cope with a difficulty on which he had not calculated. It was one
of the customs of that city, that when a person was buried, all the
male relations of the deceased should fast, and watch and pray on the
tomb for three days and nights, without ever going near their wives
and families; Hatim, therefore, was forced to keep aloof during the
whole of that period. On the fourth night, however, when the guards
had retired to their houses, Hatim lost no time in visiting the tomb;
meanwhile the unhappy inmate had full time to feel the horrors of his
situation. Often did he weep and exclaim, “Fool that I was, to believe
the promise of a false stranger! By his treachery, he prevailed upon
me to shut myself up to perish in this dungeon, and now he has gone
and left me to my fate! Alas, how dearly must I pay for my folly!”

Thus did the despairing young man fret and lament till the fourth
evening, when hunger had so weakened him that he lay as senseless as
the dead around him. When Hatim reached the cell, he applied his mouth
to the aperture, and in a soft voice said, “My dear friend, I am at
last come to release you; if you are still alive, answer me.” But, ere
then the young man was so exhausted with hunger and despair, that the
voice of aid reached not his ear. Hatim’s generous heart was grieved,
for he thought the man must have died. He hesitated whether he should
clear away the earth and remove the stone. “It is in vain,” said he to
himself, “the inmate is now no more; and heaven knows, I would
willingly give my own life to save his.”

Again, Hatim thought it best not to desist while the least hope
remained: he therefore repeated his former words, in a voice more loud
and distinct: but still no answer returned from the mansion of the
dead. He gave way to grief and despair, for he now became convinced
that his friend was dead, otherwise he would have heard the voice and
returned an answer. A third time, however, in a still louder tone,
Hatim exclaimed, “O my friend, if your life still remains, and is dear
to you, answer me: otherwise, here shall you rest till the day of
judgment. I have exerted all my power to save you, but God’s will be
done.”

The young man was at length awakened from his trance. Exhausted as he
was, he recognized the voice of Hatim; he therefore with great effort
drew near the window of his cell, and said, “Stranger, are you the man
who engaged to relieve me, and are you come at last to fulfil your
promise?” When Hatim heard this his joy was excessive; he devoutly
thanked the Ruler of events, and said to the young man, “I am indeed
the very person you allude to; rest still a little, till I make way
for your escape.”

Hatim then cleared away the earth and masses of stone which composed
the tomb; and having effected a passage sufficiently large, he took
the hand of the almost lifeless young man, and brought him out into
the open air. In a very short time the young man’s strength and
spirits were restored; which when Hatim observed, he said to him, “My
good friend, you must lose no time in effecting your escape; fly,
then, wherever you think proper.”--“My noble benefactor,” replied he,
“my journey is long, and I have nothing wherewith to support myself.”
Hatim immediately gave him a handful of gold pieces from his scrip,
and urged his instant flight. The young man having thanked his
benefactor, betook himself to the road, and escaped safe under the
shades of night, while Hatim rebuilt the tomb as it was previously,
and returned to his residence. He entered unobserved by any one; and
having shut the doors, laid himself down to rest in that happy state
of mind which the virtuous alone can enjoy. He awaked not till the
next morning was considerably advanced, and all the people astir and
ready for their morning meal. Hatim then arose; and after partaking of
their food, thanked them for their hospitality, and took leave of
them, saying, “I must now leave you, my friends, for I am bound for
the mountain of Nida; my journey admits of no delay, as it is now a
long period since I left Shahabad.”--“Noble stranger,” said the
people, “your adventure is daring; but if you must go, the mountain of
Nida is nearly a month’s journey from this place. You will first reach
a city of the same name close to the mountain, and the natives will
give you every requisite information for your future proceedings.”

Hatim resumed his journey; and at parting the people told him, that
after he should have marched some nine or ten days, the road separated
into two branches, of which he was to take that towards the right,
which would lead him to the city of Nida. Hatim advanced without any
interruption till the tenth day, when he came to the two roads; by a
strange forgetfulness, he took the left-hand path instead of the
right. Thither he marched; but at times he had some misgivings in his
own mind that he had taken the wrong road. After he had toiled for
four days in this direction, he found himself in the midst of a jungle
abounding with wild beasts and birds of prey. Hatim stood still for
some time at the foot of a tree, expecting every moment to be torn to
pieces.

As he stood listening, he heard all at once a tremendous roaring of
monsters at no great distance from him. As a last resource, he climbed
up to the top of a tree, and almost instantly he saw wild elephants,
lions, tigers, and other wild beasts rush by him in full flight. Close
at their heels followed an animal of ordinary size, but of most
terrible aspect, such as Hatim had never seen or heard of before. His
eyes were like two balls of fire, and his tail was on the crown of his
head. The very sight of him was enough to terrify the bravest of men.

Hatim trembled from the centre of his heart. “Alas, Hatim,” said he to
himself, “thy life is surely at an end, for how canst thou escape?”
But again, Hatim thought better of his condition; he put his trust in
God, who never forsakes his servants; and knowing that in His hands
only are life and death, he drew his scimitar from the scabbard, and
with a steady hand and firm heart awaited the result. Meanwhile the
monstrous animal with eyes of fire came close to the tree where Hatim
had taken refuge, and being of quick scent, he soon discovered what
was among the branches. He made a spring at the tree with such force
that he broke it through the middle, when both it and Hatim fell with
a crash upon the ground. Another leap brought him close to Hatim, who
must have been within his claws had not the branches of the tree
protected him. Hatim soon recovered his presence of mind; and seizing
his scimitar, he plunged it into the side of the monster, which laid
him prostrate upon the ground. As the wound, however, was not mortal,
the enraged beast jumped to his feet and made a plunge at the devoted
Hatim, who dexterously eluded his grasp, and with his sword gave him
another thrust in the body, so that he fell to rise no more. But
though the dragon lay mortally wounded, his power of mischief had not
yet ceased. He raised a howling noise that made the earth tremble, and
lashed the trees around him with his tail. From his mouth and nostrils
issued streams of fire, which set the surrounding forest in a blaze.
Hatim in the meantime had climbed up the nearest tree as soon as he
saw his enemy fallen, and there waited till he saw that no spark of
life remained in the monster. At last the tree which he occupied took
fire; he was forced, therefore, to leap down with all speed, and such
was the violence of his fall, that he lay stunned for some time. When
he recovered, the first thing he did was to break the four fangs of
the dead monster, which in sharpness resembled so many daggers. These,
with the tail and two ears, he carried off with him, in order to keep
them as a trophy; and he then resumed his journey.

Hatim at length gained the open plain, and was delighted at seeing a
town strongly fortified with lofty walls. On a nearer approach, he
discovered towering above the rest a royal mansion, whose glittering
turrets reared their pinnacles to the clouds; but no appearance of any
living creature did he see. He entered the gates, within which he
found every sign of the city being lately inhabited. He saw numerous
warehouses, and bazars full of every commodity, but the most deathly
silence prevailed throughout.

Hatim looked around on this scene of lifelessness, and wondered in his
own mind what could have caused such desolation. He approached the
royal residence, which formed the citadel of the town, and in which
the king and his family had shut themselves up. On seeing Hatim at a
distance, the king said to those around him, “Praised be the Lord, a
human being has at length entered our city.” The king then ordered a
domestic to call out to the stranger, and invite him to the palace
gate. The man accordingly shouted, and Hatim hastened his pace till he
stood at the portal. The king opened a window, and said to Hatim,
“Welcome, noble stranger, may peace be upon you.” Hatim courteously
returned the royal salutation, whereupon his Majesty asked him, “Who
are you, brave sir, and whence came you?”--“I am an Arab,” replied
Hatim, “and I come from Shahabad; and, moreover, I am going to the
mountain of Nida.”--“Truly, brave Arab,” said the king, “you have
taken the wrong road to Nida; you ought to have held by the right-hand
road, and you have chosen the left. But what is decreed must happen;
perhaps the hour of your death is at hand, fate has therefore led you
hither.”

Hatim devoutly replied, “If such be the will of God, I am content; for
what power is there in mortal man to help himself? Meanwhile, royal
sir, for such you seem to be, have the goodness to tell me who you
are, and what is the cause of your being thus shut up in your
citadel?”--“I am,” replied the other, “king of this country; but of
late, my city was visited by a scourge in the shape of a fiery dragon,
which forced all my subjects to fly for their lives. They took with
them their wives and children, and abandoned the city, while I, with
my family and friends, having placed our reliance upon God, sought
refuge here, it being too late for us to make our escape, and we have
not the power to cope with the monster.”

Hatim requested the king to give him a more minute description of the
dragon that had created such dismay in his dominions; to which his
Majesty replied, “A terrible creature, which we call the
Siyah-dil[b5.02], came down from the mountain Kaf, and made his haunt
within our boundaries. Every day he used to come into the city and
devour multitudes of the inhabitants, till no one is left living. The
citadel he has not as yet been able to enter, for it is surrounded by
a deep and wide ditch. Once a day, however, the monster makes the
attempt of springing from the further side to the top of the wall; but
fortunately it is more than he can accomplish; he always falls short
of the top, and rolls headlong into the water.”

When Hatim heard the king’s account, he said, “Sire, let your mind be
at peace; for, by the aid of heaven, I have slain your enemy, which I
am convinced is the same that attacked me in the forest.” Hatim then
detailed the whole circumstance, as already mentioned; whereupon, the
king immediately admitted him into the citadel, and, treating him with
the highest respect and offering him food and drink becoming a prince,
he said, “Brave stranger, I doubt not your honor; but, in order to
satisfy my friends and subjects, you will forgive me if I request of
you some proof of what you have stated.” Hatim immediately produced
the teeth and ears of the Siyah-dil; on seeing which, the king was so
delighted that he prostrated himself at his feet and loaded him with
encomiums.

His Majesty thereafter despatched those who were near him in all
directions with letters certifying the death of the Siyah-dil, and
inviting his subjects to return to their homes. In the course of a few
days the city was restored to its former life and bustle; and Hatim,
taking leave of the king, requested to have a guide to conduct him to
the mountain of Nida. The king tried to induce Hatim to stay with him,
and said, “Bravest of men, why will you leave me? This city and these
realms are yours. I am now old, and have an only daughter; accept her
for your wife, and you shall reign in my stead.”--“Generous sire,”
returned Hatim, “at present my vow forbids me to accept aught earthly
that may benefit myself, till I have discharged a sacred duty which I
owe to a friend.”

The king, with tears in his eyes, admired Hatim’s noble and generous
conduct, and immediately ordered one of his subjects to conduct him
safe to the road that led to the mountain of Nida. Hatim with his
guide retraced their way back to the spot where the road separated,
which they reached in a few days. The guide then pointed out to him
the right-hand path, and said, “Brave prince of Yemen, follow this
road and it will take you to the city of Nida.” Ten days after, Hatim
came to a large and populous city. The moment he entered within the
walls the people conducted him before the governor. His Highness
received Hatim with due courtesy; and having requested him to be
seated, said, “Tell me, sir, of what country are you, and how came you
hither? It is certain that no stranger has visited this city since the
time of Alexander the Great, who traversed the whole of the
inhabitable globe. May I ask, then, what has been the cause of your
visit?”

Hatim gave a full account of Husn Banu and the prince Munir, also what
he had himself done up to that moment. When the ruler of the city
heard this, he said to Hatim, “Noble stranger, rest yourself here for
some days and you will learn enough of the mountain of Nida; for were
I now to describe to you its mysteries, you could not comprehend
them.” Hatim accordingly accepted the governor’s invitation, and had a
house appointed for him to live in, and food, drink, and every
requisite plentifully supplied. The principal men of the city visited
him and were delighted with his society.

One day, while they were in conversation, Hatim asked one of them
which was the mountain of Nida. The man pointed it out to him, and
said, “That peak, whose summit penetrates the clouds, is the mountain
of Nida.” Meanwhile a loud voice issued from the mountain, and at that
moment one of the men in the company all of a sudden became silent and
thoughtful. Soon after he rose up; and, regardless of the numerous
entreaties of his friends, bent his course towards the mountain. His
companions ran after him, but in vain; he spoke not a word, and with
a pale countenance quickened his pace to the mountain. Hatim followed
among the rest, and said to them, “My good friends, what has befallen
the young man, that he thus runs like a maniac he knows not
whither?”--“His hour is arrived,” they replied, “for the voice from
the mountain exclaimed, ‘_Come quickly_.’”--“And whose voice is it,”
said Hatim, “that he should thus blindly obey it?”--“That,” replied
they, “is more than we know, you must ask himself.”

Hatim ran till he overtook the devoted young man, whom he seized by
the hand, and thus addressed, “My dear friend, it is unkind to refuse
the information I ask. Tell me, I beseech you, who is he that has
called you to yonder mountain, and I will myself accompany you
thither.” Hatim’s entreaties were of no avail; the young man gave no
answer, but drew away his hand from him, and ran swift as the wind
towards the mountain. Hatim followed close after; but, when he was
about half way, the mountain before him vanished from his sight. He
stood in the utmost amazement, and cast his eyes in every direction,
but no trace of Nida nor of the young man could he discover; he only
saw a large stone possessing all the hues of the rainbow.

In the utmost despair he returned towards the city, till he met the
people who had come out with him. These were assembled on the road;
and when he reached them, they were performing some ceremony known
only to themselves. They thrice repeated a form of prayer with their
faces turned towards the spot where the mountain had been; and this
done, they returned to the city, as if nothing extraordinary had
happened. On their return, the young man’s friends and relatives, far
from giving way to sorrow, prepared a feast, and entertained all the
poor of the city; and after some time spent in mirth and joy, resumed
their usual occupations.

Hatim, however, could not conceal his grief for the unfortunate young
man who had disappeared so mysteriously. The people laughed at his
sorrow, and said to him, “Stranger, it is not our custom to give way
to weeping and lamentation; we forgive you, however, this time; but if
you are to reside among us, you must conform with our manners,
otherwise we shall expel you.” Hatim accordingly restrained his grief,
and resided among them for the space of six months, in which period
ten or twelve people disappeared in a similar manner. In vain did he
ask the inhabitants for an explanation of the mystery; either they
could not, or would not, satisfy his curiosity.

Among the inhabitants of the city there was an intelligent man, named
Jam, with whom Hatim formed the most sincere friendship and affection,
so that they became inseparable companions. One day, as they were
conversing together, the awful voice sounded loud from the summit of
the mountain. When Hatim’s friend heard the sound, he became silent,
and it was easy to see that his hour was come. He quickly rose up, and
began to make for the mountain. When his relations received
intelligence of this, they all prepared to follow him. Hatim with a
heavy heart accompanied his beloved friend, for he knew that he was
called thence no more to return. He resolved, however, not to part
with him till death, and made up his mind to enter with him into the
mysterious mountain, whatever might be the consequence. Hatim then
girded up his loins; and placing his trust in God, he laid hold of his
friend Jam by the hand, and marched along with him towards the foot of
Nida. “My dearest friend,” said Hatim, “why this silence? Speak to me;
for I am resolved to share your fate.” But Jam uttered not a word in
reply; cold and senseless, he hurried onwards, endeavoring from time
to time to free himself from the friendly grasp. At last he exerted
his utmost strength, and so sudden was the movement, that ere Hatim
was aware of his intention, he found himself stretched upon the
ground, while his companion ran off at full speed. Hatim lost no time
in pursuing, and having again overtaken Jam, he seized him by the
skirt, and clung to him with all his might.

Thus they proceeded up the side of the mountain, Jam endeavoring in
vain to cast off his companion. At length they arrived at a spot where
the rock rent asunder, and both of them entered the chasm, which
immediately closed behind them. Meanwhile, those who had followed them
from a distance, seeing that Hatim and Jam had both entered the
mountain, returned to their houses, regretting the loss of the noble
stranger. They went to the ruler of the city, and informed him how the
Arabian prince had accompanied Jam, and disappeared with him in the
mountain. The governor was much grieved, and threatened the people
with severe punishment for not detaining the generous stranger who had
thus rashly incurred his own destruction.

To return to Hatim. After they had entered the fissure of the
mountain, an extensive plain appeared before them, the verdure and
beauty of which exceeded description. As far as the eye could reach,
the same endless green presented itself. As Hatim and his friend
advanced, they reached a black spot on the plain, the shape of a
grave, on which no plant whatever grew, and there Jam fell lengthways
while his soul left his body. Hatim felt the earth shake beneath and
straightway the body of his companion sunk into the ground; and the
spot that had been previously bare and barren became verdant as the
rest of the plain.

Hatim, having witnessed this wonderful scene, raised his voice in
prayer to the all-wise Creator, whose decrees are beyond our
comprehension. He now knew the mysteries of Nida, that the people of
the city thus closed their earthly career. He looked around him for a
path to lead him to the city, but no trace could he find either of the
mountain or the way by which he came there; the same verdant plain
extended in every direction as far as he could see. For seven days and
nights he wandered, without a morsel of food or a drop of water, nor
did the sight of any living creature greet his eye. Hatim was about to
sink upon the ground, and resign his soul to God; for seeing no way of
escape, he concluded that his death was decreed in those silent
realms.

While occupied with such forebodings, Hatim thought he heard a hollow
roar, like the rushing waves in the distant ocean. He advanced in that
direction, and at last arrived at the shore of a turbulent and foaming
sea, whose farther extremity his eye could not discern. Hatim stood
thoughtful upon the beach, and said to himself, “At last my earthly
pilgrimage is at an end, for here is a sea, beyond which I cannot
pass. Still He who ruleth all things can even here assist me.”

As Hatim was straining his sight across the watery expanse, he saw at
a distance a small vessel struggling with the billows, and making for
the shore; and great was his joy when he considered that his
deliverance was at hand. When the vessel reached the sand at no great
distance from where he stood, he quickly ran and stepped into it; but
what was his surprise to find no living creature within. On a small
table he saw two loaves and a fried fish; and as his hunger was
excessive, he praised the Lord, and was about to eat. But, on further
reflection, he considered that the victuals must belong to the pilot
of the vessel, who could not be far off, perhaps had gone on shore
unobserved; and “in such a case,” said Hatim, “it would be highly
improper in me to eat what has been prepared for another: I will wait
till his return, and share his hospitality, if such be his pleasure.”

While Hatim was thus waiting, a large dolphin raised his head above
the water, and thus spoke: “O Hatim, these two loaves and the fried
fish have been dressed for thee only; eat, then, and appease thy
hunger.” When the dolphin had done speaking, he dived into his native
element; and Hatim, without further delay, ate the loaves and the
fish, after which he allayed his thirst from a jar of fresh water that
stood in a corner of the vessel. Shortly after a favorable breeze
sprung up, and Hatim having trimmed the sails, launched into the wide
ocean. His greatest wish was to return to the city of Nida, and inform
the inhabitants of the fate of his friend Jam; but then he knew not
which way to steer, so he placed his reliance upon Providence, and
allowed his bark to sail smoothly before the wind.

For the following seven days Hatim’s vessel continued to dart through
the ocean; nor during that space did he taste any food, nor see aught
but the heavens above and the roaring billows around. On the eighth
day he beheld rising above the waters a mountain whose cliffs seemed
to pierce the moon. In three days more he landed at the foot of the
mountain; and in his ascent, was astonished on beholding streams of
blood gushing from its rocks. He stood still to view this strange
phenomenon, and said in his heart, “How wonderful the works of the
Creator! Each rock and stone of this mountain discharges drops of
blood; but who can explain to me the cause of it?”

In these reflections Hatim at length reached the summit, and there saw
before him an extensive plain of blood-red hue, while the color of all
the animals that frequented it was green. So intent was Hatim in the
contemplation of those wonderful regions, that he completely forgot
the pangs of hunger, and advanced several farasangs into the plain. At
last he came to the brink of a sea, whose waters were blood, and whose
billows, chasing each other to land, moistened the stars with their
purple spray. On the red beach were numbers of birds, the brilliancy
of whose azure plumage was dazzling to the sight. Here Hatim wandered
along the shores of the blood-red sea for the space of a month, and
having caught some of the birds, he struck fire from a flint, and
dressed food for himself. At length he came to a narrow point of land,
beyond which nothing was visible but the purple waves and across whose
expanse none of the birds attempted it flight. Hatim began to despair
of ever returning from these crimson shores. “Thou hast wandered here
for a whole month,” said he to himself, “but all of no avail; and wert
thou to advance for years along this blood-stained coast, thou wouldst
see no termination. Here art thou destined to linger out thy
life-time, for to return hence is beyond thy power. And, alas! thy
friend Munir is left to perish in expectation of thee.”

But again, Hatim devoutly considered, “If God, the Great and Glorious,
hath willed that I should return and that my friend should by my means
attain the object of his wish, assuredly He will rescue me from this
misery.” While occupied with these pious reflections, he saw at a
great distance a black speck, which occasionally showed itself on the
top of the billows. In a short time it approached nearer, and great
was his delight when the object proved to be a boat. It touched the
shore at his feet; and Hatim having offered up his gratitude to the
Supreme, leaped into the vessel and put out to sea.

In this boat he found, as previously, two barley loaves and a fried
fish, which he ate without scruple, while the vessel flew swift as an
arrow through the waves of the crimson sea. On the seventh day after,
he saw land; and in going ashore he found every object dyed with the
same crimson hue as on the other side; while every rock and stone
poured forth torrents of blood. Hatim trusted in God, and fearlessly
began to penetrate into this new region. At a great distance he
observed a brilliant spot in the horizon, to which he directed his
course. The nearer he approached the more dazzling grew the light,
till at length he could perceive that it was a lofty mountain of the
purest silver. Forward he went, fatigued as he was; but by the time he
thought himself within a few leagues of the silver mountain, he found
that there intervened a wide ocean, whose waves were of the same
brilliant hue. He stood upon the beach admiring the beauty of the
prospect; and as his thirst was excessive, he dipped his right hand
into the silver liquid, in order to taste of its contents, and
instantly his hand was turned into silver.

Hatim with horror beheld his right hand converted into a mass of
silver, and mourning over his hapless fate, he sat down upon the
shore. Suddenly he saw a boat making towards him from the direction of
the mountain. He raised his hands towards heaven, and gave praise to
that Almighty Providence which had so frequently aided him in his
distress. When the boat reached the shore, Hatim joyfully stepped into
it, and found it supplied with a variety of the most delicious viands,
also pure water wherewith to quench his thirst. Having refreshed his
exhausted frame, he trimmed his sails, and steered his course towards
the silver mountain. The vessel swiftly ploughed the waves without any
aid from a pilot, while Hatim laid himself down and enjoyed a
refreshing sleep.

When Hatim had first seen the silver mountain, he imagined that it was
at no great distance from him; but this was owing to its extreme
brilliancy and immense height, for it required several days and nights
of swift sailing to reach its nearer shore. At length Hatim came to
land, and began to explore the silver regions; but ever and anon he
looked with sorrow at his right hand, now a useless burden to him.
Onwards he journeyed for four days more, when he reached the foot of
what he conceived to be the silver mountain. He then commenced his
ascent; but he no sooner reached the summit of one mountain than
another still higher presented itself to his view. For three days he
thus toiled upwards: his food consisted of wild fowls, which he caught
in the rocks, and sometimes fish of the hue of silver from the
mountain streams, together with such fruit as those airy regions
produced. On the fourth day, he observed that the rocks and stones
which lined his path emitted brilliant rays of light, and were tinged
with the colors of the rainbow. He stood admiring this beautiful
sight, devoutly acknowledging the transcendent power and wisdom of Him
who made the universe. On a more minute examination of these beautiful
stones, he found that they were real jewels, such as diamonds,
emeralds, and rubies.

Hatim could not resist the temptation of carrying off some of the
jewels; he, therefore, filled his skirt with such of them as were most
valuable, and thus laden, resumed his ascent. The higher he climbed
the larger and more brilliant became the jewels scattered around him,
so that he was constantly occupied in throwing away what he had
previously gathered, and supplying their place with others more
precious. At last he satisfied himself by filling his skirt with the
largest jewels he had ever seen, and resolved to carry these back with
him to his own country. “The greatest princes on earth,” said he,
“possess not such jewels, nor could they buy them with all the wealth
of their kingdoms; nay, they cannot have any idea even of their
existence.”

For several days longer he persevered in his ascent from peak to peak,
without the least appearance of reaching the highest point. Meanwhile,
the weight of his load of jewels was so heavy that he was compelled to
throw away more than the half, keeping only such as he judged most
rare. One day, as he was passing from one mountain to another, he came
to a spring of cool water, beside which he sat down to quench his
thirst. The moment he dipped his hands in this precious fountain, his
right hand became whole and sound as the rest of his body. Hatim thus
providentially cured, bowed his head to the dust in gratitude to the
Bestower of Benefits; and, having allayed his thirst, he laid himself
down to sleep on the cool margin of the fountain.

When he awoke from his sleep, he beheld standing by the spring two
beings of formidable appearance. Their color was black as the raven,
their heads resembled that of man, and their hands and feet were like
the paws of the lion. In an instant, Hatim started to his feet: he
seized his bow and let fly his well-aimed arrow at one of these
strange monsters. The shot took no effect, for the creature seized the
arrow in its paw, and in a tone of reproach cried out, “O Hatim, does
it become you to slay the innocent, from fear of your own life? Know
that we also are servants of the Almighty, and have come hither with
no intention of doing you harm.”

On hearing this, Hatim dropped the bow and arrow from his hands, and
sat down in deep regret, for his own heart convinced him of having
acted wrong. Some time thus passed while he waited their nearer
approach, and much he wondered in his own mind what would be the
result of an interview with such wonderful beings. At length they
stood before him, and said, “To you, Hatim, of all mankind, it is
least becoming to set your heart on jewels and worldly wealth. Your
name is already famous in the world for everything noble and generous;
and your history shall serve as an example to future ages. But if the
love of gold and jewels take possession of your heart, farewell your
present success and future fame!”--“May I ask,” said Hatim, “whose
gold and jewels have I ever coveted?”--“O Hatim,” returned the demons,
“see you those jewels which you have carried away from the lower
mountain; can you say that they are your own?”--“If they be not mine,”
replied Hatim, “they belong to no one else. The gifts of the Creator
are without number, and his dominions boundless; if I have taken a few
jewels from the mountain, I cannot have thereby wronged you or any
living creature.”--“Those jewels,” said the demons, “belong to the
race that inhabit these realms.”--“And is not man,” rejoined Hatim,
“the noblest of created beings? Is he not sole master of the
terrestrial globe and all that it contains? Tell me, then, the name of
that race that can have a better right to these precious stones than I
have. Besides, I have only carried with me a small number to present
to my friends, which can no more be missed from the treasures of these
mountains than a drop of water from the ocean.”--“It is not for the
value of these baubles,” resumed the demons, “that we so strongly urge
you to throw them away, it is solely on your own account; for if it is
your wish to return in safety to your own country, you must covet
nothing that you see here.” Hatim at length, with great reluctance,
threw down the precious stones, saying, “What you advise me, my
friends, may be right; yet it is hard that I should have toiled so
many days in carrying these treasures, which I must now resign; truly
your advice is to me very unacceptable.”

When the demons perceived Hatim’s reluctance, they selected from the
stones the largest ruby, the most brilliant diamond, and the finest
emerald, and presented the same to him, saying, “Accept, brave Hatim,
these three precious stones; they will suffice as a specimen to be
shown to your friends: to take more, or to use them in any other
manner, would be unworthy of yourself.” Hatim joyfully received the
three jewels, and said, “I am a stranger here; you will, therefore, do
me the greatest favor by pointing out to me the way to my own
country.”

“Generous Hatim,” replied the demons, “you are aware of the immense
distance you have travelled since you left Shahabad. God has preserved
you in all your perils and hardships; yet, since the creation of the
world, only three of your race have been enabled to visit these
regions and return with life, whereas, great numbers have perished in
the attempt. Your days shall yet be many, for such is the will of God.
Proceed, then, till you reach the ocean of gold, which you shall
cross, as you have hitherto done. Next, you will come to the sea of
fire; and should you be able to find your way to its farther side, you
will soon arrive in Yemen. But, above all, beware lest you covet aught
of what you see.”

Having thus spoken, the demons vanished from Hatim’s sight, while he
sat down to repose for the night by the cool fountain. When the dawn
appeared, he rose up, and, after ablutions, proceeded on his journey,
trusting to Providence alone as his guide. After three days of fasting
and toil, he arrived, hungry and thirsty, at the banks of a river, the
channel of which was formed of the largest and most valuable pearls he
had ever seen. His heart longed to possess the pearls, notwithstanding
the injunctions he had received to the contrary; but, on reflection,
he controlled his fatal desire, and satisfied himself by quenching his
thirst in the running stream, which was extremely pure and refreshing.

Hatim thence set out, and shortly after, saw before him clouds rising
from the horizon with uncommon brilliancy, resembling a canopy of
burnished gold. For a whole month he continued to advance in this
direction; and at length he saw the summit of the golden mountain,
rising with dazzling grandeur among the clouds. Having reached the
base of the mountain, he found it covered with trees and shrubs, of
which the foliage and fruit were all of golden hue. For three days he
ascended towards the summit; and on the fourth day he entered a garden
whose beauty equalled that of paradise. The trees were loaded with
golden apples, every leaf and every plant in the garden was tinged
with the hue of gold.

After Hatim had enjoyed the charms of this beautiful scene, and
appeased his thirst from fountains of pure water which issued from
rocks of gold studded with the most precious gems, he sat down to
repose for the night. Meanwhile a troop of fairies surrounded him; and
when Hatim saw them, his heart rejoiced, for the fairest of the band
greatly resembled Zarinposh. He said to them, “Heavenly creatures,
tell me who are you?”--“We are,” replied one of them, “the devoted
subjects of the fairy queen, who now walks in this garden, and who
will very soon pass this way.”

Shortly after the queen approached, and the moment Hatim beheld her
lovely countenance, his senses entirely forsook him, and he fell
lifeless upon the ground. The queen quickly ordered her attendants to
bring rose-water, which she sprinkled over his face and body. After
this, Hatim recovered, when the queen raised him from the ground and
seated him on a golden chair close by a throne, which she herself
occupied. She then addressed him in the sweetest tones, and said,
“Tell me, noble stranger, who are you, and how came you hither?” Hatim
related his eventful history; and in return, asked the fairy, “To whom
belong these celestial abodes?”--“These regions,” she replied, “are
called Achīn, which signifies _pleasant_, and the sovereignty thereof
belongs to the king, Shahyal, to whom I owe allegiance. It is part of
my duty to keep watch in this paradise for a fixed period. My time
expires in the course of a week; after which, I return to the royal
presence. This mountain, too, is part of Kaf, which forms the
boundaries of the earth.”

The fairies hospitably entertained Hatim for four days. On the fifth
day, the queen advised him to depart, on which he took leave, and once
more resumed his journey. In two days after, he found himself in a
boundless plain beyond the confines of the golden mountain. Forward he
marched, night and day; and on the evening of the sixteenth day, he
reached the yellow shore of the golden sea. The sand on which he trod
was of the finest gold; the waves, too, which rose like mountains
towards the skies, were deeply tinged with the same color. While Hatim
sat musing on the beach, he saw, as formerly, a vessel steering
towards land; and at length it came close to where he stood. Hatim
stepped into the boat, where he found a basket filled with delicious
food; and as he was very hungry, he ate and refreshed his exhausted
frame. At the same time his thirst was excessive, and he felt a strong
inclination for dipping his hand into the sea in order to drink. He
recollected, however, the disaster that had previously befallen him,
when his hand was changed into silver; and lest it might this time be
converted into gold, he took a goblet, and having filled the same,
drank, and steered his bark from land.

For forty days and nights he sailed onwards without seeing any object
but the golden waves and the illumined clouds. At length he reached
the shore, and began to traverse the newly discovered regions. Seven
days after, he came to a desert of burning sand, hot as the ashes of a
newly quenched furnace. He made an effort to advance, but soon found
himself unable to stand. He sunk exhausted to the earth; his lips were
parched of their moisture, and the whole of his body scorched beyond
endurance. In vain did he apply the muhra of the bear’s daughter; it
produced no effect.

In this condition, Hatim, unable either to remain or return, tossing
from side to side on the fiery sand, was about to bid adieu to life,
when the two mysterious beings that had presented him with the
precious stones, stood beside him, and having administered to him a
draught of cool and refreshing water, recalled his departing soul.
When Hatim recovered his senses, and saw the two demons before him, he
said, “To you my debt of gratitude is indeed heavy, for verily your
aid has been opportune.”--“Brave Hatim,” they rejoined, “it is part of
our duty to direct the stranger on his way. You must, therefore,
advance through this desert till you reach the fiery ocean, which you
must cross, as you have lately crossed the other seas; and should it
please the Great Creator, you will, thereafter, soon arrive in your
own country. Meanwhile, accept this talisman, and when you feel the
heat oppressive, take the talisman in your mouth, and the fire shall
have no power over you. When arrived on the farther side, cast the
talisman into the fiery ocean, and proceed on your journey.”

Hatim took the talisman in his mouth, and advanced for three days
amidst the burning sand, when at last the flames so increased that it
appeared as if the heavens and the earth were mingled in one blaze. He
stood still for some minutes on the brink of the fiery ocean. Here his
courage failed, for he saw not the possibility of surmounting this
last barrier. At length a boat was seen to emerge from the flaming
billows, but even then Hatim hesitated whether to enter; for, said he,
“How can I, with my eyes open, entrust myself to a frail bark on a sea
of liquid fire?” Again he reflected, “After all, this is my only way
of escape; and if I wish to succeed in my enterprise, I must brave
this danger; if it is the will of the Creator to spare my life, he is
able to protect me in the midst of the flames.”

Hatim entered the vessel, which began forthwith to cleave its way
through the flaming waves. Dreadful was his situation; and though the
fire hurt him not, still he durst not open his eyes from fear of the
glare of light that surrounded him. Three weeks after the commencement
of this perilous voyage, he felt his bark tossed round with amazing
rapidity in the midst of a whirlpool. Hatim now felt assured that his
last hour was arrived. He still sat with his eyes closed, recommending
his soul to the protection of heaven, when the vessel sunk from
beneath him, and he found himself floating swiftly along the current.
Hatim in this helpless state resigned himself to fate. Over his eyes
were drawn the curtains of despair, and his head touched the knee of
anguish. For three days and nights he was thus tossed along the
billows of the fiery ocean, till at length the waves cast him almost
lifeless on solid ground.

Hatim ventured to open his eyes, thinking that he was still on the
sea-shore, but no trace could he see of the flaming billows, nor of
the dazzling light that lately enveloped him. He stood up, and threw
away the talisman given him by the two genii, after which he began to
explore the surrounding country. He soon discovered, to his great joy,
that he was in his native land of Yemen; and seeing a peasant standing
beside a field of corn, he went up to him and said, “Tell me, my good
man, what is the name of this country, and who is its sovereign?” The
peasant, instead of replying, stood motionless with his eyes fixed on
the countenance of him who bore such resemblance to his beloved
prince. “Are you deaf, my friend?” resumed Hatim, “or are you
unwilling to answer a plain question?”--“Forgive me, noble sir,” said
the peasant, “but you look so like the brave and generous Hatim, that
the joy of once more beholding my prince has deprived my tongue of
utterance.”

Hatim, without discovering himself, continued his conversation with
the peasant, and said, “Who is this Hatim you speak of, and what do
you know of him?”--“He is,” replied the peasant, “my true and beloved
prince; for you must know, stranger, that this is the kingdom of
Yemen, of which Taï is sovereign. The heir-apparent to the throne is
the noble Hatim, who seven years ago left his paternal domains to
travel through strange countries. Once only in that long period hath
he gladdened our hearts with tidings of his welfare, by letters
brought to his father by the youthful queen Zarinposh.”

Having thus spoken the peasant was about to depart, when Hatim
addressed him, saying, “Stay, my good subject, I am indeed Hatim, the
son of Taï; and if you wish to do me a favor, go to my father’s hall
and assure himself and my mother of my welfare, and my unimpaired
affection towards them. But first of all, tell me where I may quench
my thirst, for I am wearied with travelling.” The peasant quickly ran
to his cottage, and having brought the best food and drink he could
procure, presented them to his prince. After Hatim had refreshed
himself, he stood for some minutes intently looking towards his
father’s capital, which was situated close by. At length he turned,
and addressing the peasant, who stood at a respectful distance
awaiting his further commands, said, “Good friend, accept my thanks
for your hospitality. Remember my request, and say to my father that
my time is pressing, for I am journeying to Shahabad. I trust I shall
soon be able to return to my native country, no more to wander.”

Shortly after, Hatim arrived safely in the city of Shahabad. When the
people of Husn Banu saw him, they conveyed him with the highest
respect to the gate of their fair sovereign. Husn Banu, informed of
Hatim’s arrival, hastily threw on her veil, and gave orders for his
admission into the palace. After mutual salutations, Husn Banu asked
of Hatim the account of his long journey, the events of which he
minutely detailed from beginning to end. After he had finished his
narrative, the fair queen said to him, “Brave prince of Yemen, I am
satisfied that what you have stated is strictly true; but have you
nothing to show in confirmation?” Hatim produced the ruby, the
diamond, and the emerald which the two genii had permitted him to
bring from Nida, and presented the same to Husn Banu, saying, “These
are ample proofs of what I have related; and I may add, that when my
right hand was transformed into a mass of silver, and when, on washing
in the fountain, it was again restored to its original form, my nails
still retained the hue of silver, as you now behold. On drinking from
the golden sea, four of my teeth were transformed into pure gold, and,
as you see, still continue so.”

Husn Banu expressed her admiration of Hatim’s bravery and constancy,
and with her own hands gave him food and drink. Hatim tasted slightly
of her bounty, and said that he longed to see his friend the Assyrian
prince. He therefore hastened to the Mihmanseraï[b5.03], where he
found Munir. He gave his friend every consolation in his power,
saying, “Be of good cheer, for now there are only two questions to
solve, and God will grant success.” Three days thus passed, after
which Hatim presented himself before Husn Banu, and said, “Tell me,
fair lady, what is your sixth question?”--“I have a pearl here,”
replied Husn Banu, “as large as a duck’s egg: bring another equal to
it.” Hatim requested to see the pearl; and having got an exact model
of it made of silver, he deposited the same in his turban. Taking
leave of Husn Banu and the Assyrian prince Munir, he then set out on
his sixth journey.




 BOOK VI.

 _The journey of Hatim in search of the pearl._

The narrators of past events have informed us that Hatim, after
leaving Shahabad on his sixth adventure, came to a certain desert,
across which he bent his course. After he had walked two farasangs, he
came to a solitary tree, at the foot of which was a rude seat formed
of stone. As the evening was approaching, he there sat down; and
having passed some time in reflection with his head stooping towards
his knee, the mantle of night began to overspread the world. In the
meantime a brace of fowls, dazzling in all the splendor of the seven
colors, came and perched upon the tree above him. Those birds were of
the species called Natika (having the power of speech), which frequent
the shores of the sea of Kahrmān; and by special providence they
rested on that tree for the night.

The female bird said to the male, “I like not the air of these regions
in which we have halted, and I wish we were safe in our own
country.”--“I agree with you,” said the male; “and though it was my
intention to stay here for some days, yet, as you dislike the place,
we will depart early in the morning.”--“Well,” said the female, “I
only hope you will abide by your resolution, and that to-morrow’s sun
will shine upon us far hence.”--“Why all this anxiety?” rejoined the
male; “you know well that I speak nothing but the truth.”

A short time after, the female natika again broke silence, saying,
“Tell me, my dear mate, who is this wanderer from the haunts of men
who is seated on the stones below, with his head sunk in the lap of
reflection, and his brow stamped with the seal of sorrow?”--“He is the
best of men,” replied the male, “and his anxiety is occasioned because
he knows not whither to direct his course in quest of a pearl of the
size of a Murghab’s[b6.01] egg. Now Murghab is also the name of the
place where these pearls are to be found. But to proceed: this man is
Hatim Taï, the noble and generous prince of Yemen. He is now
wandering in search of this pearl, not for his own sake, but in order
to serve another person. He has left his princely home, and his fond
parents, in order to promote the happiness of his fellow-creatures.”

“But,” rejoined the female, “inexperienced as Hatim is, how can he
ever find the pearl in question?”--“I shall direct him,” replied the
male, “if it is your wish, though it may not be altogether for our
welfare.”--“Nothing is more noble,” said the female, “than to do good
to others, and assuredly we shall ourselves reap the benefit thereof
in the end.”--“Listen to me then, my dear consort,” said the male
natika, “and you shall hear how this rare pearl of the Murghab is to
be procured. You are aware that our species have lived since the
creation of the world on the shores of the sea of Kahrman, and only
once in thirty years our females laid an egg of this kind. But for
some time past our race has been deprived of the virtue of producing
these pearls, and those that have been formerly produced are sunk to
an unfathomable depth in the sea. Of these pearls two only are above
ground, and these originally fell into the hands of Chamchan, the king
of Kahrman. He again gave one of them as a rare present to Shamshân,
a neighboring prince of great wealth and splendor in his time.
Shamshân died without issue; and his splendid capital was soon after
reduced to a lifeless desert, while his wealth passed into the hands
of strangers, and the pearl, after many changes of owner, is now in
the possession of Husn Banu, the daughter of Burzakh the merchant.

“As to the other pearl, it happened that Chamchan, the king of
Kahrman, died in early life, and another took possession of his crown.
Without any warning the widowed queen was forced to fly for her life,
and the pearl of the Murghab was the only part of her property which
she had time to secure. With this rare treasure she left her palace,
and fled through the desert till she reached the sea of Kahrman. There
she sat down exhausted, not knowing whither to proceed, till a
merchant with his ship approached in order to take in fresh water.
When the queen saw the vessel she cried aloud for assistance, and the
merchant himself came to her in a boat, and conveyed her on board.

“The merchant, whose name was Simbar, was a benevolent man, who had
seen much of the world. He treated the queen with the utmost kindness;
and on hearing the cause of her distress, he adopted her as his
daughter, and conveyed her to his own country. A beautiful son was
born to the happy couple during the next year. As Simbar had no
children of his own, he appointed this child sole heir of his wealth.
Meanwhile, the child grew up endowed with princely virtues, and by the
time he came to manhood his generous patron Simbar died.

“Shortly after, the young prince was appointed chief of that province;
and as he was a youth of superior discernment, and had abundance of
wealth at command, he soon raised himself to be king of that country
and the adjacent islands. After his death, his descendants reigned
there for many a generation, till the auspicious era of Sulaiman of
Iram (on whom be peace), who reduced into their possession the whole
extent of the Koh-i-Kāf and the coast of the sea of Kulzum. Since the
reign of the prophet Sulaiman, the race has reigned in those regions,
but then their intercourse ceased with the inhabitants of the earth.
They no longer form a part of the human race, nor dareth a son of Adam
visit their dominions.

“In the course of time the pearl came into the hands of a fairy, in
the possession of whose son it now is. His name is Mahyār Sulaimani,
and his father was of the race of Adam, so that he partakes of the
twofold nature of man and fairy. He reigns in the island of
Barzakh[b6.02], and is on friendly terms with the demons, whose
territories are contiguous to his kingdom; for he knows the powerful
spell of Sulaiman, and no demon dares injure him.

“Mahyar Sulaimani has an only daughter, now seven years old, and
whosoever shall be able to tell the history of the pearl, is to have
the daughter in marriage, with the pearl for her dowry. He is a man of
profound knowledge, having in his possession the books of his
progenitor the great Sulaiman. In these books are many rare secrets;
among others, the method of procuring the pearl of the Murghab, should
the one which he has be lost. Since the reign of Sulaiman (on whom be
peace), our race has not produced a single pearl, nor is it lawful for
us to tell what I have now stated to you, a secret known to Mahyar
alone. But to this generous youth, who has been for years exerting
himself in the cause of his fellow-creatures, it is proper that I
should disclose this much of the subject that now occupies his
thought.”

On hearing this the female said, “How is Hatim to find his way to the
sea of Kahrman? For the coast is infested by the demons who inhabit
those regions, and the perils which await him are insuperable.”--“His
safety,” replied the male, “depends on heaven alone; for if his days
are not yet at an end, he may encounter every danger, and return in
safety. Meanwhile he must proceed to the south, and it will be
necessary that he take with him several of our feathers. When he
arrives at the confines of the mountain Kaf, he will see before him a
wide desert, and ere he enter that wilderness, he must use the
following precaution: let him burn the green feathers and strew the
ashes in water, with which he must wash his whole body. This will have
so strong a scent that no wild beast of the desert can come near him.
Moreover, his appearance will be altogether that of a demon; his color
will be black as night, and his hands and feet will assume an
unnatural size, and he will be able to speak the language of the
demons.

“After he shall have passed through the wilderness, and arrived at the
island of Barzakh, he must burn the white feathers, and having mingled
the ashes with water as before, wash his body with the same. He will
then resume his original shape. When he enters the dominions of Mahyar
Sulaimani, the fairies of those realms will seize him, and take him
before their monarch. Then let Hatim boldly state the object of his
journey; when the king, as a matter of course, will ask of him to give
an account of the pearl, whereupon he shall have both the pearl and
the daughter. Then let Hatim tell all that I have stated, and Mahyar
being of most honorable conduct and of strict integrity, will
assuredly give him his daughter and the pearl.”

Having thus spoken, the male natika flapped his wings, when a shower
of feathers fell around Hatim, who immediately arose and carefully
collected them. When the female bird saw this, she said to her
partner, “He gathers the feathers as if he had understood what you
said; how do you know that Hatim is destined for such important
services, and how have you recollected all the circumstances of the
pearls?”--“The whole history of the two pearls,” replied the male,
“has been preserved by our race from one generation to another; but
you females attend not to such grave subjects, nor are you good for
anything but talking. The time will come, too, when our race shall be
extinct, with the exception of a solitary bird, which is destined to
perish only with the world. But these days are still remote; and at
present let us enjoy the bounty of Providence, of which we have a
greater share than any animal except man. We, like him, are endowed
with the faculty of speech, and the ordinary term of our life is
longer than his; even we two are destined to live together in this
world for the next hundred years.”

By this time the portals of the dawn flew open in the east, and the
two birds took their flight from the tree. Hatim at the same time
arose, and began his journey towards the south. One night, as he lay
down to repose underneath a tree, he heard the cry of some animal in
pain, exclaiming, “Alas! is there no creature at hand who will, for
the sake of God, assist me?” Hatim, ever ready to aid the distressed,
arose and ran towards the spot whence the sound issued. There he saw a
female fox stretched on the ground, beating her head upon the stones.
“Tell me,” said Hatim, “who has caused thy sorrow?”--“A huntsman,”
replied the fox, “has caught in his snares both my husband and
children, and has carried them off to be murdered. This heartrending
separation is the cause of my grief.”--“Knowest thou where the
huntsman resides?” asked Hatim. “His house,” she replied, “is distant
from hence two farasangs.”--“Show me the way thither,” said Hatim,
“and I will endeavor to save thy kindred.”

The fox hesitated, and said, “O man, how can I trust thee? Art thou
not one of the bloodthirsty race of him that has torn my heart
asunder, and will it not be thy delight to lead me also into the
snare? Truly my fate would be like that of the monkey, whose mishap
has become a proverb.”--“Tell me,” said Hatim, “what happened to the
monkey?” The fox began as follows: “Once upon a time a monkey with his
mate took up their abode in a sequestered spot in the desert of
Dāmaghan, where they soon had a family. A huntsman happened to pass
that way, and succeeded in catching all the monkeys except the mother,
who effected her escape. Meanwhile the huntsman conveyed the male with
the young ones to a nobleman’s house, where he disposed of them for a
high price, while the poor mother wandered through the desert in the
agonies of despair. Regardless of her life, she at last ventured among
the haunts of men, and going to the chief of the province, stated the
cause of her woe and implored redress, saying, ‘Noble sir, as you hope
for mercy from God, have pity on my sorrows. A huntsman belonging to
this place has cruelly deprived me of my husband and family.’

“Now it happened that the chief was the very man to whom the huntsman
had sold the monkeys, though he was not then aware of it. He,
therefore, said to the monkey, ‘Go, conduct my attendants to that
huntsman’s house, and bring the parties concerned to my presence.’ The
female monkey accordingly led the way to the house of the huntsman,
who instantly obeyed the order of the chief. When they returned, the
chief said, ‘Is it true, huntsman, that you have deprived this poor
monkey of her partner and young ones; and if so, what have you done
with them?’

“‘It is most true, noble sir,’ replied he, ‘and the very day I caught
them I sold them all to your Highness. If, however, you are disposed
to pity her distress, and restore to her those that are so dear to
her, I am most willing to return to your Highness the price that was
paid for them.’ On hearing this the chief said, in reply to the
huntsman, ‘What you propose seems very fair; yet I do not conceive it
to be the best plan. Now that I have considered the matter seriously,
I think the best thing we can do is to detain the female in the same
cage with her kindred, for I would not give away for any money the
monkeys you sold to me.’

“But the miseries of the monkey did not cease here. After being for
some time confined in the same cage with her young, the prince of
Damaghan having heard that the chief had some young monkeys, expressed
his wish to have them in his palace. Thus the hapless monkey was
doomed to suffer another separation from her young, while her own
liberty was lost at the same time. The male had previously died, and
now being left solitary, she rejected food and drink, and in a few
days escaped from sorrow by death.”

When the fox had finished the story of the monkey, she said to Hatim,
“In like manner, it is natural for me to suppose that you will involve
me in greater misery.”--“Fear not,” said Hatim; “all men are not so
treacherous as those you have mentioned.” At length the fox led the
way in the dark, while Hatim followed to the huntsman’s house, where
they arrived about the third watch[b6.03] of the night. He there
reposed beneath a tree till the approach of day, while the fox
concealed herself in the adjacent forest. When the sun arose, Hatim
went to the huntsman’s door, knocked, and requested to be admitted.
The huntsman opened the door, and was surprised on seeing a handsome
stranger of noble and ingenuous countenance standing before him. “Tell
me,” said he, “sir, who and whence are you? I see you are a stranger;
pray what is your business with me?”--“Worthy sir,” replied Hatim, “I
am by birth an Arab; and the cause of my troubling you so early is
this: I am afflicted with a pain through all my joints; and the
physician has advised me to wash my body all over with the warm blood
of a fox, whereby my recovery will be complete. Now I have been
informed that you have some live foxes, which you lately caught when
hunting. I pray you, then, let me have them all, and I will pay you
any price you may name for them.”--“Truly, sir,” replied the huntsman,
“I am glad that I can supply you with foxes; for here have I not fewer
than seven of them, the old one and six cubs, all alive; take them,
then, at your own price, and I wish you joy of your purchase.”

The huntsman produced the foxes, the male tied by the four feet, and
the cubs enclosed in a basket; and Hatim having paid him a price
beyond his expectation, returned to the desert. There he opened the
basket, and let out the cubs; but when he loosened the strings that
tied the old fox, he found that the wretched animal had not the power
of moving. In fact, it had been strongly fettered by the huntsman, and
confined all the time without food or drink, so that the spark of life
had almost become extinct. Hatim was about to leave the fox to his
fate, saying, “Thy life is at an end, God’s will be done,” when the
female approached him, and said, “Generous Hatim, there is yet one
remedy that will restore him to life.”--“Name it,” replied Hatim,
“and, if possible, I will procure it.”--“A cupful of human blood,”
rejoined the fox, “warm and newly drawn, will be the means of his
complete recovery.” On hearing this, Hatim instantly opened a vein in
his left arm; and having drawn a cupful of his own blood, he
administered the same to the perishing fox, whereby a perfect cure
ensued. He then tied up his wound, while the animals prostrated
themselves at his feet in gratitude for his beneficence.

Hatim then resumed his southward journey, and a few days after arrived
in a barren desert of burning sand. As he wandered in quest of water
beneath the scorching rays of a vertical sun, his eye was refreshed
with the sight of a verdant spot which indicated the presence of a
fountain. Thither he dragged his weary steps, till his eye could see
the gushing spring, when a huge serpent began to uncoil itself from
the brink. Hatim stood aghast, for he expected to be swallowed alive;
but the serpent, far from assailing him, said in a soft voice, “Brave
prince of Yemen, advance and drink; why do you hesitate?” Hatim was
the more astonished on hearing the words of the serpent, and for some
time stood still. Again the serpent said to him, “Fear nothing; the
water of this fountain is free for your use; drink, and follow me.”

Hatim at length ventured to quench his thirst in the fountain, and
resigning himself to his fate, followed the path of the serpent across
the desert. In a short time they came to a beautiful garden, in the
centre of which was a shady grove lined with splendid couches and
cushions. The serpent conducted Hatim to this cool and pleasant
retreat, and said to him, “Noble Arab, sit down on this couch, and
secure from danger rest awhile from your fatigue.” Having thus spoken,
the serpent plunged into a pond of water that ornamented the garden.

Hatim, fatigued with his late journey, sat down on one of the couches,
marvelling much at what had happened. After he had remained here a
short time, admiring the beauty of the scene, a troop of fairies,
beautiful as angels, each bearing a golden tray filled with emeralds,
issued from the lake, made their obeisance, and stood waiting his
commands. “Who are you,” said Hatim, “and what is your business with
me?”--“We are,” replied they, “the faithful subjects of him who
conducted you hither. He sends you these jewels as a present, and
requests that you will do him the favor to accept them.”--“Convey my
thanks to him who sent these jewels,” replied Hatim, “and say that I
desire them not; and even if I did, I am alone, and cannot carry them
away with me.”

Hatim had scarcely done speaking, when another troop of fairies,
bearing trays filled with still more costly jewels, ascended from the
water. “Who are you,” said Hatim, “and what do you bring in these
trays?”--“They are jewels,” replied they, “the most precious that can
be procured, which our sovereign hath sent for your acceptance.”--“I
am beholden to your sovereign,” said Hatim, “but gold and jewels are
at present of no use to me.” Meanwhile another troop emerged from the
lake, carrying trays of gold and silver filled with all sorts of food
and fruits. As Hatim had fasted long, the sight of food made his heart
rejoice; but he would not eat of it till he asked for the hospitable
sovereign of the place, that he might have the pleasure of breaking
his fast with him, and thanking him in person. Ere he had done
speaking, a young man of beautiful countenance, attended by a troop of
fairies, ascended from the crystal lake. When Hatim saw his noble
form, he wondered within himself who this could be, and by what
mystery they issued from the water. The fairy king approached Hatim;
and after mutual salutation, they both sat down on the same couch. His
Majesty then addressed Hatim, saying, “Tell me, noble Hatim, do you
recognize me, for this is not our first meeting?”--“Truly,” replied
Hatim, “I cannot now recollect of having ever seen you before.”--“I
am,” resumed the king, “the serpent that conducted you hither from the
fountain in the desert.”--“How,” said Hatim, “have you so suddenly
passed from a shape so horrible to a form so beautiful?”--“The tale is
long,” replied the king, “and therefore I shall waive the telling of
it till we have broken our fast.”

After they had taken food together, they washed their hands from ewers
of gold, and the attendants presented them with fragrant perfumes
which they applied to their hands. Hatim then addressing his royal
host, said, “I long to hear, sir, by what strange mystery I have
lately seen you in the form of a serpent and behold you now in human
shape.” The fairy king, smiling, replied, “Noble Hatim, know that I am
of the fairy race; and that my name was Shams Shah previous to my
transformation into a serpent. In the reign of Sulaiman the prophet
(on whom be peace), I was one day seated in my garden in the fairy
regions, when thoughts the most diabolical entered my mind. I viewed
with impatience the submission of our race to the powerful Sulaiman; I
therefore resolved to collect my troops from all parts of my
dominions, and next day descend upon earth and slay the whole race of
Adam. This done, it was my intention to occupy for myself and subjects
the terrestrial globe, of which I should become sole monarch.

“Having formed this resolution, I despatched winged couriers to the
utmost bounds of my realms, summoning the choicest of my warriors to
prepare for a dangerous expedition, and to be at the palace gate
completely armed before the dawn of the morrow. When evening came, I
went to sleep as usual; and next morning, when I awoke, I went out to
view my troops. They had repaired to the place of rendezvous, armed as
I had ordered; but, to my astonishment, I beheld that their wings had
been taken from them. Instantly I myself was transformed into a
serpent, and from that period I was doomed to creep the earth, the
terror of every creature that beheld me. Days and nights I spent in
prayer and supplication, but all of no avail; the voice of some
invisible being used to sound in my ears, ‘_Such shall ever be the
fate of him who violates his promise._’ This awful voice made me
tremble in the consciousness of my guilt; and I made vows and prayers
to the Most High that I should never more let such thoughts enter my
mind. The voice at length answered, ‘_Thy doom is fixed; wait with
patience in the desert till the arrival there of Hatim, prince of
Yemen. When he comes, remember that thou administer to his wants, and
serve him with thy whole heart and soul; then shalt thou be restored
to thy original form, and whatsoever prayers he may offer up in thy
behalf before the throne of the Supreme Creator, they shall be
answered._’

“Since the time of Sulaiman I have been doomed to pass my life under
the loathsome form of a serpent; and it is now thirty years since I
removed to this desert, watching night and day for your arrival.
To-day, the moment I saw you, I knew you to be the far-famed prince of
Yemen; and now may I request your prayers in my behalf?”--“Most
willingly,” replied Hatim, “but first tell me, what was the nature of
the promise which you have violated?”--“In the reign of Sulaiman,”
replied the fairy king, “my grandfather entered into a solemn compact
with that mighty monarch, that none of our race should ever injure any
of the race of Adam, or on any pretext invade the dominions of the
latter, on pain of having our forms changed to that of the brute
species. From that day till my reign, when, as I have said, the evil
spirit entered my heart, this agreement was strictly observed on our
part. Now, brave Hatim, I am ready to do what penance you as the
representative of your race may ordain; and I humbly supplicate your
prayers in my behalf.”

On hearing this, Hatim devoutly rose up, and having performed his
ablutions and changed his garments, bowed down his head upon the
prayer-carpet, with his face turned to the sacred Kibla[b6.04], and
prayed for the divine mercy upon him whom heaven had deemed proper to
chastise.

When Hatim had offered up his prayers, the king and his subjects were
restored to their original form. After the fairies had expressed their
gratitude to Hatim, the king said to him, “Providence had long
foreordained that you should visit our distressed race; but may I ask
what has been the object of your toilsome journey hither, and to what
place you are bound?”--“The object of my journey,” replied he, “is to
visit the island of Barzakh, where I expect to procure a pearl similar
to this model”; whereupon he showed the fairy king the model he had in
silver of Husn Banu’s pearl. Shams Shah viewed it for some time, and
said to Hatim, “The prince of Barzakh has indeed a pearl exactly of
this size, but it is to be got from him only on one condition: he who
can tell the history of the pearl, shall have both the pearl and the
daughter. But how will you be able to reach that island? The distance
is great, and the route dangerous.”--“I am prepared for the worst,”
replied Hatim; “therefore let fate take its course.”--“You cannot
escape with life,” said Shams Shah, “for the road is infested with
men-devouring demons.”--“God,” rejoined Hatim, “will be my
protector.”--“True,” said the fairy king, “but to ensure your safety,
some of the boldest of my subjects shall go with you as guides.” The
king having thus spoken, addressed those around him, and said, “Good
friends, you are aware that to this generous man we owe our release
from the bondage in which we have lately been. Now he has an arduous
journey to perform; his business is important, and the road full of
danger. I call upon the bravest of you, as you love your king, to
accompany this noble prince and be his protectors on the way.” The
fairies volunteered their services, saying, “Sire, tell us the nature
of the difficulties which this prince has to encounter, and we will
endeavor with our whole heart and soul to enable him to overcome
them.”

The fairy king minutely detailed the object of Hatim’s journey; on the
hearing of which, the fairies were staggered in their resolution, and
said, “The journey to the island of Barzakh is truly dangerous; but if
your Majesty in person deign to accompany us thither, so that we may
have an experienced leader in case of a war with the demons, we are
ready to go this moment; otherwise, we pray to be excused.”--“Well,”
said the king, “it is but right that I should do all that is in my
power to serve the prince of Yemen. Therefore, I will follow you at a
distance, so that he may come by no harm on the road.” The king made
instant preparation, girded on his armor, and ordered four of his
people to place Hatim on a golden litter and carry him on their
shoulders. The order was speedily executed, and four fairies swift of
wing seizing each a foot of the couch, soared aloft with their burden
into the aerial regions. Three days and nights they traversed the air,
when they found it necessary to alight in order to procure for their
charge food and drink. The place where they halted was within the
territory of the demons, a circumstance of which they were not aware.
Two of the fairies went in quest of food while the other two remained
to guard Hatim. It happened that a troop of demons on a hunting
excursion passed the spot, and on seeing the golden couch on which one
of Adam’s race reclined, with two fairies standing by, they without
ceremony took possession of the prize. The demons were so numerous,
and their arrival so sudden, that the two fairies stood panic-struck,
without offering the least resistance. Their first effort was to fly
away; but despair supplied them with courage, and the next moment they
made a desperate assault upon their enemies, of whom they slew
numbers. At last, however, the demons won the battle, and the two
fairies along with Hatim were made prisoners, and conveyed to the
dwelling of the demon chief. There the fairies were first questioned,
“Who is this man, and whence have you brought him?”--“This is Hatim,
prince of Yemen,” they replied, “to whom we and our gracious monarch
Shams Shah owe our restoration to life. Oh, chief of the demons, spare
our lives for the sake of this brave man; and woe be to you should
aught evil befall him.”

On hearing this, the demon said to them, “What is this I hear? Shams
Shah has not been heard of for many centuries: how dare you say, then,
that he is now alive?” The fairies detailed all the facts connected
with their king; on the hearing of which the demon maintained a long
silence, meditating what course to adopt. At last he formed his
resolution, and said to those near him, “Take the man and the two
fairies to the deepest of our dungeons; there secure them till
to-morrow, when we shall devour them.” The sentence was speedily
executed, and Hatim with his two companions were cast into a dark and
loathsome pit.

Meanwhile the two fairies who had gone in search of food, on returning
to the spot where they had left Hatim, were astonished at seeing the
ground covered with blood, and strewed with the carcases of demons.
They looked everywhere for their charge and their friends, but no
trace of either could they find. They said the one to the other, “Of
what race are these demons, and how came they to be slain here? But
above all, what is become of Hatim and our companions? I fear they
have been attacked and overpowered by the demons that infest these
regions. Let us ascertain the fact and give intelligence of it to our
king.” Having formed this resolution, the two fairies approached the
spot, expecting to find the dead bodies of their companions. In the
course of their search, they found one of the demons grievously
wounded, but not dead. They gave him water to drink, and bound up his
wounds, so that in a short time he recovered.

The fairies questioned him, saying, “Who are you, and to what tribe do
you belong?” He replied, “I am of that race of demons whose chief is
Mukarnas; a party of us were hunting to-day in this neighborhood, when
we chanced to surprise two fairies and a man, with whom we had a
battle in which I received these wounds. The demons conquered, and by
this time they are feasting on the blood of their foes.” The fairies,
on hearing this, bore off the demon to their own country and presented
themselves breathless before Shams Shah. The king said to them, “How
is this? Did I not send you to Barzakh in charge of the prince of
Yemen? How dare you, then, show your faces here?”

The fairies trembling, replied, “Gracious sire, three days and nights
we sped towards Barzakh; but at length hunger and thirst assailed both
us and the prince. We then placed the litter in the shade of a tree,
and two of us went in quest of food, while the other two remained to
protect Hatim. When we returned, we found the spot covered with the
carcases of demons, and from one of the wounded we learned the news of
the capture of the prince and our two companions. Had we known the
dangers of the place, we should not have halted there; but God had
decreed otherwise. On questioning the wounded demon, he informed us
that the country belonged to Mukarnas, to whose presence the prince of
Yemen and the two fairies were conveyed.”

Shams Shah being highly grieved, ordered them to produce the wounded
demon, whom he thus addressed, “How dares your chief Mukarnas lay
violent hands on my subjects? Truly he has forgotten himself; but he
shall feel my resentment.”--“Sire,” said the demon, “my chief had
heard for certain that you had been dead for many centuries; and
though both the two fairies and the man informed him of the contrary,
the tale was so extravagant that he could not believe it.” Shams Shah
turned to his officers, and said, “Prepare the whole of my army for an
instant expedition.”

The order was at once obeyed, and thirty thousand of the choicest
troops stood armed and ready at his gate. The king put himself at
their head, and swift as the lightning they winged their way through
the air. In three days they reached the territories of Mukarnas. There
they halted, and the king despatched scouts to procure intelligence of
the enemy’s quarters. “Be wary,” he said, “and quickly bring me word
where the demon chief holds his court, and in what he is engaged.”

The scouts soon returned, and reported that Mukarnas, accompanied by
his demons, was out hunting; and that they knew the very spot where he
was. Shams Shah then addressed his troops, and made them swear by the
seal of Sulaiman that they would fiercely assail the demons and that
they would slay them without mercy. The fairies one and all took the
solemn oath. So, receiving the signal from their king, they started,
surprised the demons, slew the greater part of them, and made
prisoners of Mukarnas and such of his subjects as survived. Shams Shah
gave orders for their immediate execution; but he first sent for
Mukarnas into his presence, and said to him, “Accursed fiend, hast
thou forgotten me? Hast thou not been well informed that I was alive?
Thou hast treated with violence and oppression both my own subjects
and a man who is under my protection; dost thou not tremble at the
thoughts of my revenge? Tell me this instant, what hast thou done with
the prince of Yemen and his guides?”--“I, along with my friends,
feasted on their carcases,” replied he, “the moment they were brought
before me.”--“False demon,” rejoined the king; “did not your ancestors
swear before the mighty Sulaiman, that neither they nor their
posterity would ever injure one of the human race?”--“Well,” said the
demon, “where is the powerful Sulaiman now, and when did I bow to him
in servitude?”

Shams Shah said no more, but ordered them to pile together a quantity
of dried wood, and when kindled to its height, hurl the demon into the
flames. When the fiend saw that there was no escape, he said to the
fairy king, “Will you give me my life, if I produce the man you
mentioned?”--“If you bring me the man safe,” replied he, “there shall
be no enmity between us.” The demon made the fairy king swear to this
by the soul of Sulaiman, and then said, “Send some of your attendants
to my dungeon, where they will find both the man and his companions
still alive.” The fairies accordingly went and broke open the dungeon,
released Hatim and his guides, and conveyed them before the king.

Shams Shah was overjoyed in once more meeting with Hatim. They sat
down together and ate food; after which, the fairy king said to his
attendants, “It would be a crime to spare the life of such a monster
as this demon, therefore cast him instantly into the fire.”--“How,”
said the demon, darest thou violate thy most sacred oath?”--“What hast
thou to do with oaths?” returned Shams Shah. “Thy whole life has been
a lie; and who can blame me, if for the welfare of my
fellow-creatures, I disregard my promise to you?” In short, the fairy
king destroyed the whole race of demons in that region, and appointed
one of his own officers ruler of the conquered territory. He then
addressed himself to Hatim, and said, “My dearest friend, what do you
now intend to do?”--“I hold the same resolution,” replied Hatim, “as
when I formerly left you.” The king hearing this, selected from among
his troops four fairies of long experience, endowed with superior
skill and bravery, and commanded them to convey Hatim to the end of
his journey. These seized each a foot of the golden couch whereupon
Hatim was seated, and soared aloft towards the sky. Night and day they
continued their course; and when hunger or thirst assailed them, they
took care to select a safe place where to halt. One day they were
resting upon the summit of a mountain, where a fairy prince most
beautiful of countenance had taken up his abode. This was the prince
of the island of Tūmān, who had fallen desperately in love with the
daughter of the king of Barzakh. He had sought for that solitary spot
to give way to his sorrow and anguish. The voice of his lamentation
reached the ear of Hatim, who said to his guides, “My dear friends,
there is some one near us who feels the pangs of sorrow; let us see
what is the cause of his grief.” He started from his couch, and
following the direction of the sound came to the enamoured prince. He
said to him, “Tell me, my friend, who are you; and why do you make the
rocks echo the sound of your lamentation?

The fairy prince raised his eyes, and saw beside him a man of noble
form and pleasant aspect. He said to him, “Tell me first, son of Adam,
who are you, and what is your business here?”--“It has been the will
of God the Supreme,” said Hatim, “that I should visit this
spot.”--“But tell me,” said the fairy, “what is the object of your
journey hither?”--“I have travelled thus far,” replied Hatim, “in
quest of the pearl of the murghab, which I am informed is in the
possession of the prince of Barzakh. He puts a question to every
candidate for the pearl, which no one has yet answered.”--“You say
right,” said the fairy prince, “and even we who are of the fairy race
are unable to tell the history of the pearl; how then do you, a mere
mortal, imagine that you will succeed?”--“For my own part,” replied
Hatim, “my trust is in God; but tell me in the meantime what is the
cause of your sorrow, and why have you chosen for your dwelling this
solitary mountain?” The fairy prince replied, “Alas! I am enamoured of
the beautiful daughter of Mahyar, the prince of the island of Barzakh.
One day in my father’s court I heard my friends speak in the highest
terms of the beauty and excellence of this peerless damsel, whereby I
lost the reins of my heart. I straightway went to the palace of
Mahyar, and informed him by message of my wish to marry his daughter.
He admitted me to an audience; and having produced the pearl of the
murghab, he asked me if I could tell the history of it. As I was quite
unprepared for such a question, and utterly ignorant of the nature of
the pearl, I could of course give no reply. I was then ordered to quit
the court; and as I was coming out at the door, I happened to see the
lady standing in the balcony of her window. The moment I beheld her my
heart was pierced, and I became like one mad. In the agonies of
despair I fled to this mountain, where I spend my nights and days in
lamentation and sighs. I long for death to relieve me of my sorrow,
since the idol of my heart can never be mine.”

When Hatim heard the prince’s history, he said to him, “Despair not,
my friend, for I expect to succeed; and if I gain the prize, the
daughter shall be yours and the pearl mine.”--“Your proposal is
generous,” replied the fairy prince, “but excuse me if I say, that I
doubt your success.”--“Listen,” said Hatim, “and I will tell you the
nature of this pearl, which not only resembles, but is the egg of a
murghab. The island of Barzakh was originally inhabited by the human
species--but the tale is long, and it would be better that you once
more approach the court of Mahyar along with me.” The fairy prince
accordingly rose up; and having thanked Hatim for his good intentions,
accompanied him to the litter. There they both sat; and Hatim said to
his guides, “Will you be able to carry us two to the island of
Barzakh?”--“Yea,” replied they, “we could carry four of you with the
utmost ease.” Without further delay, the fairies lifted the chair and
soared towards the clouds.

It happened that they had to pass over the territory of a demon
prince, whose name was Muhaikal, who, having scented them from afar,
said to his satellites, “I know that some of the fairy race are within
my dominions; seize them instantly and bring them to my presence.” The
demons immediately were on the wing; and after four days of close
pursuit, they overtook the fairies with the golden litter on which
were Hatim and his friend, and brought them all to the presence of
their prince. “Tell me,” said he to the fairies, “who are you, and
whence have you brought this man?”--“We are the subjects of Shams
Shah,” replied the fairies. “Impossible,” rejoined the demon, “it is
more than a thousand years since Shams Shah has been heard of, and the
very place of his abode is overrun with serpents.”--“True,” replied
the fairies, “we had been transformed into serpents; but by the
prayers of this worthy man we have been restored to our original
shape.”--“Well,” resumed the demon, “tell me where you intend to carry
this man.”--“To the island of Barzakh,” they replied. “And who is the
other companion?” asked the demon. The fairy prince himself replied,
“I hope I am not unknown to Muhaikal, to whom my family is distantly
related.”--“Truly, I am much surprised, young prince,” said the demon,
“to find you associate with any of the race of Adam; but fear nothing
from me, my business is with your companion.” The demon then seized
Hatim, and lifted him from the couch; when the fairy prince
interposed, and said, “Beware, Muhaikal: are you not bound by oath to
Sulaiman himself, never to injure any of Adam’s race?” The demon, with
a fiendish smile, said in return, “Where is Sulaiman now, that I
should regard my oath to him? In truth, I mean to devour this son of
Adam; therefore waste not your breath.” The fairy prince well knew the
treacherous nature of the demon; he therefore resolved to meet him on
his own ground, and said to him, “Mighty prince, it is beneath your
dignity to stoop to the devouring of one man; leave him to me then, as
the success of my present undertaking depends upon him, and I promise
to send you ten men in his stead.”

To this proposal the demon readily agreed, and said, “Noble fairy, I
am most willing to accommodate you, as we are in some degree related
to each other. Let this man in the meantime be secured in my castle,
while you go for the ten men you promise, and when you return with
these, I will make him over to you.”--“Agreed,” said the fairy prince,
“I ask only four days for my arrangement; but I will not suffer you to
shut up this man in one of your dungeons.”--“Place him where you
choose,” said the demon, “only let him be strictly guarded by my
subjects.”

Near that spot there happened to be a pleasant garden; it was
therefore agreed that Hatim should remain there under the guard of the
demons, during the absence of the fairy prince. Meanwhile the prince,
with the four fairies that had conducted Hatim thither, withdrew to a
sequestered spot, and held a consultation as to further proceedings.
“If,” said the prince, “we return to your king, and solicit his aid
with that of his forces, the stipulated time will have expired long
before we can return, and the demon will assuredly devour our friend.
Let us, then, remain here in concealment, and watch a favorable moment
when the demons are off their guard; then let us enter the garden, and
having carried off the prince of Yemen, let us trust to the swiftness
of our wings.”

The four fairies applauded the proposal; and at the hour of midnight,
when the demons had fastened the door of the garden and betaken
themselves to repose, the fairies took up the golden litter and flew
softly over the wall. They looked warily around them, and found the
demons all buried in sleep. Hatim, exhausted with sorrow and despair,
had also sought refuge in slumber under the shade of a tree. They
lifted him gently from the ground, laid him on the litter along with
the fairy prince, and, swift as the wind, resumed their aerial voyage.
For the remainder of the night they winged their way with the utmost
speed, and at the dawn of day came to a place of safety where they
halted for refreshment and repose.

To return to the demons. When daylight shone, and when they saw the
gates firmly fixed, as on the preceding evening, they concluded that
their prisoner was secure within, and thus they continued their watch
for the appointed period of four days, while the fairies, on the other
hand, were making the best use of their time. On the last day of the
stipulated time, Muhaikal was anxiously waiting the return of the
fairy prince; and when the hour of noon expired, he said to his
satellites, “I see these fairies have not thought proper to keep their
promise; they have gone and left the man to his fate. Let him be
brought forth then immediately, that we may feast upon him.” The
demons opened the strong gates, and on entering the garden, what was
their disappointment on finding their charge carried off! They
returned to their chief, and informed him of the fact. Muhaikal was
highly enraged, and ordered the sentinels to be punished with stripes,
and flung into a dungeon. In vain did they swear by Sulaiman, that
they were not in the least privy to Hatim’s escape; the chief believed
them not, and they were dragged to torture.

By the time the fairies had reached the boundaries of the desert of
Kahrman, one of Muhaikal’s demons, who had left the court of his chief
on the day when Hatim had been taken, happened to meet them. The demon
at once recognized the fairies, and understood the case. He knew that
his master had sharpened his teeth in order to feast on the man; he,
therefore, endeavored to seize Hatim and carry him off by force; but
the fairy prince quickly drew his sword, and severed the intruder’s
right hand from his body. The demon, furious with pain and
disappointment, said to the prince, “Well, you shall pay dearly for
this; you have cut off my hand when doing my duty towards my chief. I
will inform the whole of my race of your treachery and violence, and
the fiercest revenge will be the consequence.”

Meanwhile the fairies addressed Hatim, saying, “Brave prince of Yemen,
we are now arrived at the line of separation between the fairies and
the demons, beyond which we dare not advance.”--“Farewell, then, good
friends,” replied Hatim, “I have myself the means of succeeding in the
remainder of my journey.” The fairies here left him, except the prince
of Tuman, who had an equal share of interest in the adventure. As they
were about to enter the great desert which limited the region of the
demons, Hatim asked his companion if he thought it safe to advance.
“Truly, prince of Yemen,” replied the other, “no creature except a
demon can with safety approach these regions.”--“Cannot any of the
fairy race visit them?” resumed Hatim. “The fairies,” replied the
prince, “though not safe, have least to fear, as there is at present a
truce between themselves and the demons, which was ratified after a
bloody battle fought on these plains. The kings of both races took the
field with the whole of their forces, and vast was the number of the
slain, while victory inclined to neither side. At length peace was
concluded, and the demons swore by Sulaiman of Iram never more to
injure any of the fairy race; but they scruple not to violate their
solemn oath to us, and to mankind they are inveterate
foes.”--“Enough,” said Hatim; “suppose I had the power of transforming
myself into the likeness of a demon, and thus pass in safety through
their territory; would you venture to accompany me?”--“Not publicly,”
replied the fairy, “but I could easily succeed; during the day I
should soar among the clouds, and at night I should descend to your
place of rest.”

Hatim immediately took a vessel full of water, and having burnt the
colored feathers of the natika, he made the mixture as he had been
directed. He then cast off his garment, and washed his whole body from
head to foot, when, lo! his color was black, and his shape became that
of a hideous demon. When the fairy prince saw this frightful
transformation, he was greatly astonished, and said to Hatim,
“Wonderful man, tell me to what bird belong these feathers, which
possess such potent qualities?”--“I procured them,” replied Hatim,
“from a talking bird called the natika, the eggs of which are pearls
such as that in the possession of Mahyar of Barzakh.” Hatim then
detailed the occurrence of the tree where he listened to the
conversation of the birds; but the information respecting the history
of the pearl in question he prudently withheld till they should arrive
at the court of Mahyar.

The fairy prince had full reliance on Hatim’s skill and wisdom, and
his heart rejoiced within him as the prospect of success brightened.
The two friends commenced their journey; and when Hatim entered the
land of the demons, he met with no interruption; for they all took him
for one of their own race. After some days had thus passed, it
happened that as Hatim and his fairy friend met to repose for the
night, they were observed by one of the demon race. He went and
informed his neighbors, that in a certain spot a demon had taken up
his night’s rest, and that a fairy had descended from the sky at the
same time, as if the meeting had been preconcerted. The demons very
soon assembled round the two travellers; and said one to another,
“These are strangers, and one of them is a fairy: we had better carry
them before our king, that they may give an account of themselves.” To
this proposal one of the demons would not assent; and said, “My dear
friends, why should we on mere suspicion oppress these innocent
strangers? One of them is of our own race, and with the fairies we
have no enmity.”

The prince of Tuman happened to be awake, and was listening to this
conference, which ended in favor of those who were for making the
strangers prisoners. He awakened Hatim, who addressed the demons in
their own language, saying, “Friends, we have travelled far, and being
fatigued, we here sought repose. Why have you disturbed our slumbers,
and what is your business with us?”--“We wish to know,” they replied,
“who you are.”--“For me,” said Hatim, “I am a helpless stranger
wandering I know not whither. Shams Shah, the king of the fairies, has
exterminated the tribe of Mukarnas, and burnt their dwellings, which
is the cause of my being here. This he has done for the sake of one of
the race of Adam, who is now journeying to the island of Barzakh. Now
if you wish to serve your prince effectually, go and search for the
man on whose account such a havoc has been committed, and leave
peaceful travellers like myself and my companion to go their own
way.”--“If your tribe,” resumed the demons, “has thus suffered, how
can you associate with a fairy? Tell us of what tribe is your
friend.”--“He is prince of Tuman,” replied Hatim, “and one of your
allies.”--“Enough,” returned the demons, “you may sleep secure, none
of us shall disturb you, as we may find better occupation in capturing
the man whom you mention.”

The demons departed; and Hatim, addressing the fairy prince, said,
“Let us arise, and speed hence; the demon race is not to be trusted.”
They accordingly set off, and Journeyed without intermission till the
evening of the third day, when they arrived on the sea-shore. “This,”
said the fairy prince, “is the sea of Kahrman, in which is situated
the island of Barzakh.”--“How are we to cross?” said Hatim, “for so
far as my eye can reach, I see not any vessel on that wide ocean.”--“I
shall find means for crossing the sea,” replied the fairy, “for at a
distance of nine farasangs, there is a province where winged horses
are bred. These animals can fly to any distance across the ocean, nor
can any storm interrupt their course. Do you, then, remain here during
my absence, and I will go forthwith and procure two winged horses, by
whose means success will crown our adventure.”

The prince of Tuman left Hatim on the sea-shore, and swiftly cleft the
air with his pinions till he reached the country of the winged horses.
As he was intimate with the prince of that province, he was speedily
admitted to an interview, and stated the object of his visit, saying,
“I require two of your swiftest steeds, in order to cross the sea to
Barzakh: if you do me this favor, you will have a claim to my services
for life.” On hearing his request, the prince gave him his choice of
all his winged horses; and the prince of Tuman having selected the two
he considered best, returned to his companion.

The friends immediately mounted; and when Hatim saw the horses spread
their wings and soar aloft like eagles among the clouds, his
astonishment was beyond description; and so swift was their flight,
that he could scarcely keep his seat. In a few days half the distance
was run down; but Hatim was so overcome with hunger, thirst, and
drowsiness, that he found it impossible to proceed further. He
mentioned his distress to the fairy prince, who handed him a small
apple, saying, “Eat even a few grains of this rare fruit, and all your
weariness will be dispelled.” Hatim tasted of the apple, and the
effect was miraculous; he felt his strength and vigor restored, nor
did he during the rest of the passage feel the least fatigued.

A few days afterwards the horses descended upon the further shore of
the sea of Kahrman. Hatim rejoiced to find himself safe on land; and
said to his companion, “My dear friend, surely we have passed the
island of Barzakh, which, as I am informed, is in the midst of the
sea.”--“Noble Arab,” replied the fairy, “this is part of the island
where we have landed, but it will take ten days more to reach the
capital; and now that I think of it, I shall by your leave go and
assemble my own troops, that they may accompany us thither.”--“Think
better of it,” said Hatim; “are we forsooth going to wage war with
Mahyar Sulaimani?”--“No,” said the fairy prince, “but I know that we
shall meet with many interruptions, and that soon, unless we use this
precaution.”--“What time will be requisite for you,” asked Hatim, “to
assemble your troops and return hither?”--“You may for certain expect
me,” answered the fairy, “by the end of seven days.”

The fairy prince took leave of Hatim, who, when left thus solitary,
began to explore the surrounding country. He soon came to a fragrant
garden, the doors of which were all wide open. He entered; and his
eyes were delighted with the sight of trees, which bore loads of fruit
of every size and color, and of finer quality than he had ever met
with. Thus Hatim enjoyed himself for the week, walking undisturbed in
the wide garden. The horses, too, were so tame and so attached to him,
that during the day they grazed on the sea-shore, and at night they
returned to the door of the garden.

Meanwhile the fairy prince reached his paternal dominions. When his
subjects saw him, they quickly conveyed the tidings to his father and
mother, who came out to meet their beloved son. After mutual greeting,
the father thus spoke: “My dear son, it is long since you left us at
the head of your troops on an expedition to the island of Barzakh. How
did it happen that you absconded from your army? Thought you not of
the distress and sorrow which we must have endured by your absence?
But I will not upbraid you, my beloved son; tell me at once, have you
attained the object of your wish?”

The prince, with tears in his eyes, replied, “Forgive me, father, how
could I expect success when I have acted so regardless of you? Since
my departure, I have met with nothing but pain and disappointment,
till lately when my destinies have proved favorable. I have found a
sincere friend in the noblest of the human race. Hatim Taï, the
prince of Arabia, is now journeying from Shahabad for the pearl of the
murghab, which is in the possession of Mahyar. He found me sad and
solitary in the cavern of a mountain; he learned from me the cause of
my sorrow, and said to me in the voice of benevolence, ‘Despair not,
my friend, I am confident that I shall succeed; and as I desire only
the pearl, I will bestow the lady upon you.’ This, my father, is not a
vain promise, for Hatim is pure in heart and sincere in speech.”

When the father and mother heard this statement, they laughed at the
prince’s credulity, while the former said to him in reply, “Truly, my
son, you are more simple and inexperienced than I thought you. The
most skilful of our own race have in vain endeavored to procure that
pearl; how then can a mere mortal of the race of Adam, who knows
nothing of our secret arts, be expected to succeed in such an
undertaking? Are you really so foolish as to build your hope on such a
slender foundation?”--“Father,” replied the prince, “Hatim is a man of
surpassing wisdom. He has travelled much, and has made himself
acquainted with all the mystic sciences of the sublunary creation.
With this intent he has accompanied me across the sea of Kahrman, and
is now waiting my return on the coast of Barzakh.”--“Well, my son,”
said the king, “tell me your present purpose in parting with him, and
in coming hither.”--“To obtain from you a convoy of your best troops,”
replied the prince, “that we may proceed in safety to the court of
Mahyar.”

The king, after brief consideration, summoned twelve thousand of his
chosen troops, which he appointed as guards for his son. The prince
took an affectionate leave of his parents, and at the head of his
select army, departed for the island of Barzakh, while the king raised
recruits to supply their place. In a little more than the appointed
time, the prince arrived in the island of Barzakh, and surrounded by
his troops, passed the night in the garden where Hatim had resided,
and next morning they began their march towards the capital. Meanwhile
Mahyar Sulaimani received intelligence that a host of fairies numerous
as the sand had landed in a remote corner of the island; whereupon he
quickly led forth his own forces, so as to be ready to receive them,
should their intention prove hostile.

When Hatim and the fairy prince with their chosen band approached the
capital of Barzakh, they were surprised at seeing an army vastly
superior to their own, prepared to dispute their passage. They soon
discovered that these were the troops of the watchful Mahyar, and that
no time was to be lost in coming to a proper explanation. The fairy
prince despatched a messenger to state that his object was peace and
amity, not strife and bloodshed; and that he came solely to visit the
prince of Barzakh. The noble Mahyar instantly commissioned in return
the commander of his army with orders to state to the prince of Zuman,
that if he came in peace, no one should molest him, and that his visit
was every way welcome.

In short, Hatim and his friend along with their convoy were allowed to
enter the capital; and after they had been hospitably entertained,
Mahyar sent them a message requesting to know the object of their
visit. “Say to Mahyar,” replied the fairy prince to the messenger,
“that the last time I visited him I was doomed to experience a painful
disappointment; that at present I have accompanied hither the noblest
of mankind, who has come from afar on a similar purpose.” Mahyar gave
orders for their immediate admission to his presence, and addressing
Hatim, said, “Tell me, prince of Yemen, what has been your object in
visiting my dominions?” Hatim produced the silver model of the pearl
of the murghab, and related his past history so far as it concerned
Husn Banu and Munir. “The lady,” concluded Hatim, “has imposed upon me
as her sixth task, to procure her a match to this pearl.”--“And
where,” said Mahyar, “can you find a pearl similar to hers?”--“I have
been informed,” replied Hatim, “that the only one equal to it in the
world is in your possession; and my journey hither has been on that
account.”--“Well,” resumed Mahyar, “I have such a pearl in my palace;
and if you fulfil my conditions, you shall have both the pearl and my
daughter.”

Hatim remained some time silent, and after mature reflection, said,
“The pearl alone can be of service to me; but I have no intention to
accept the daughter.”--“If you gain the pearl,” said the king of
Barzakh, “you shall be free to accept my daughter or not, only she
shall be entirely at your disposal, and you may bestow her on whom you
please.” Hatim then, at the request of Mahyar, related the whole
history of the pearl as he had heard from the natika in the desert.
Mahyar listened attentively to his detail; and when Hatim concluded,
he entered his secret apartment and brought forth the pearl, saying,
“Brave Hatim, accept what you have fairly gained; and tell me, how do
you wish my daughter to be disposed of?”

Hatim instantly ordered the youthful queen to be married to the fairy
prince of Zuman, a measure to which her father assented.

After a month Hatim took leave of Mahyar, and accompanied by the fairy
prince and his bride came to the sea of Kahrman. He then requested the
prince to return to his own country, while he himself should make his
way to Shahabad. “At least,” said the prince, “let me send with you a
guard of my own subjects as far as the kingdom of Shams Shah.” To this
Hatim agreed, and having mounted his winged steed, accompanied by a
select guard, he recrossed the sea, and landed in the territory of the
demons. Here they had not far advanced when the demons observed them,
and prepared to dispute their passage. The fairies, so few in number,
could offer little resistance: they therefore addressed their
opponents, saying, “Good friends, we are both descended of one family;
and we pass through your country bearing no enmity towards you. We
have been delegated by our prince to convey his congratulations to
Shams Shah, who, after a long period of misery, is now restored to
happiness.”

The demons, on hearing this, gave them no further interruption; and in
the course of time they arrived safe in the dominions of Shams Shah.
This king having received intelligence that strangers were
approaching, mounted his steed and came out to meet them in person,
and great was his joy when he saw Hatim among them. He affectionately
embraced him, and said to his guides, “May heaven reward your
goodness, for you have done me the greatest service possible in
restoring to me safe the generous prince of Yemen.” Having thus
addressed them, he invited them to a splendid feast, which lasted
forty days.

Hatim then took leave of the fairy king, who supplied him with
everything requisite for his journey, and appointed four of his
subjects to carry him on a golden litter to the city of Shahabad.
Thither they swiftly conveyed him in the course of a few days. Outside
the gates they descended from their aerial flight; and Hatim, at their
request, gave them letters to their sovereign, with which they
returned. He then entered the city, where the people immediately
recognized him, and conveyed the tidings of his return to their lovely
queen. Husn Banu threw her veil over her face, and gave orders for
Hatim’s admission to her palace, where the counsellors of the city
were then assembled. Hatim entered; and, after mutual salutation,
produced the pearl of the murghab in presence of the assembly and
stated the details of his marvellous adventure.

When Husn Banu saw the pearl she was highly delighted, and the court
resounded with the praises of the noble Hatim, who withdrew to the
Mihmanseraï. There he met the Assyrian prince Munir, and said to him,
“Your happiness, my friend, is now almost at hand: only one question
remains unanswered.” After a repose of a few days, he presented
himself before Husn Banu, and said, “Fair lady, let me hear your
seventh question, that I may lose no time in the completion of my
task.”--“The seventh and last is,” replied she, “to bring me an
account of the bath of Badgard.” Hatim took leave of Husn Banu and the
prince Munir, and prepared for his departure.




 BOOK VII.

 _The journey of Hatim to explore the Bath of Badgard--His arrival in
 that place--His safe return to Shahabad, and the marriage of Husn Banu
 with the Assyrian prince Munir._

After Hatim left Shahabad he traversed a wide desert till he arrived
in a populous city, where he saw the inhabitants assembled round the
mouth of a well. He approached; and asking one of them what was the
matter, was told that the son of the chief magistrate had gone mad,
and was in the habit of frequenting the well, when at length he had
thrown himself in headlong. “Three days,” said the man, “we have
looked for him here, but no trace can we find of his body, nor is any
of our people bold enough to venture into the well, lest he should
lose his own life.”

While they were in this conversation, the parents of the youth came
weeping to the mouth of the well. Hatim’s heart melted when he
witnessed their sorrow, and he said to them, “Despair not, my friends,
I will dive into the well, and search for the body of your son; remain
here till my return.”--“Generous stranger,” said the chief, “rest
assured that we will with patience wait your return, should the period
be even a month.” Hatim plunged into the water; and after he had been
sinking some minutes felt his feet on firm ground. He opened his eyes,
and saw not the well but an extensive plain illumined with the rays of
the sun. Advancing some distance he came to a garden, and as the doors
were open, he entered. There he saw flowers of every hue, and in the
midst of the garden a palace of elegant structure. He entered a
spacious hall, which he found to be furnished with splendid couches,
on which reclined fairies of beautiful form. In the centre of the hall
were two thrones of burnished gold, on one of which sat the fairy
queen, of transcendent beauty and angelic countenance; and on the
other, a young man of noble form and graceful mien.

When the fairies that acted as sentinels observed Hatim’s approach,
they gave information to their sovereign that another of the race of
Adam had arrived in the garden. The queen, addressing the youth upon
the throne, said to him, “The stranger is of your race; is it your
pleasure that we hold conference with him?” The young man assented,
and the attendants conducted Hatim to the foot of the throne. The
queen rose and graciously received him; and having seated him on a
couch beside her, ordered him to be presented with food and drink.
Hatim willingly accepted her hospitality; after which, the young man
asked him whence he came, and whither he was bound. “I am a native of
Yemen,” said Hatim in reply, “and I lately left the city of Shahabad
on a journey to the bath of Badgard. When I arrived in a certain city,
I saw all the inhabitants assembled round the mouth of a well; and on
inquiring the cause of their anxiety, the chief told me with tears in
his eyes, that his son had three days ago cast himself headlong into
the water. I was moved by his grief, and dived into the well, resolved
to procure the dead body of the youth. But now I am bewildered, and
know not whither to direct my search. You, I see, are of the human
race; may I ask whether you are the young man whom I seek?”

The youth replied, “I am indeed that devoted person. I was one day
seated at the mouth of the well, when this heart-ravishing fairy
appeared to my enchanted sight. I lost hold of the reins of reason,
and for some days lingered like a maniac round the mouth of the well.
My passion was completely beyond my control: I plunged into the water,
and opened my eyes, I know not by what means, in this paradise. When
the fairy queen beheld me, she gladdened my heart with the charms of
her society, and now my happiness is complete.”--“Deluded youth,” said
Hatim, “can you be happy when your parents and relations are enduring
the pangs of despair on your account?”--“I have no choice left,”
rejoined the young man; “but should the queen give me leave, I will
accompany you to my relations, and having assured them of my safety,
instantly return.”--“Have patience, then,” said Hatim, “till I plead
your cause.”

Hatim turned his discourse to the queen, and said, “Thy conduct, fair
queen, is far from being generous and noble, in detaining this youth
from his distressed parents. Allow him to accompany me for a few days,
that he may console his father and mother; after which, he will return
to you.”--“Stranger,” replied the queen, “I do not in the least
restrain this youth in his movements. He saw me, and became enamoured
of my person. In his despair he cast himself into the well, for which
I am not to blame. At present he has his free will to go whenever he
chooses.” Here the youth stood up, and said to the fairy, “By your
leave, fair queen, I have one request to make ere I depart, should it
be agreeable to you to grant it. Say that I am not to despair; that
you will speedily come to my father’s house, and make me happy in once
more beholding you.”

Hatim for some time held down his head in silence, awaiting the
queen’s reply; at length he spoke: “Generous queen, if you have any
compassion, assent to the youth’s request.”--“He asks of me,” she
replied, “more than ever any of our race have granted to yours.” In
return, Hatim related to the queen numerous instances of kindness and
compassion experienced by himself from the hands of the fairy race. To
this the queen replied, “Brave Hatim, what you have stated is true;
but this youth does not so sincerely love me as to deserve my
regard.”--“Had I not loved you from my heart and soul,” said the young
man, “should I, regardless of life, of every human tie, cast myself
headlong into the well?”--“To put your affection to the proof,”
rejoined the queen, “are you prepared to do whatever I request of
you?”--“Command me,” said he, “and I will perform.”

The fairy queen summoned her attendants, and said to them, “Go fill
the large cauldron with oil, place it on the fire, and make it boil to
the utmost heat.” When the cauldron was heated, the queen took the
young man by the hand, and said to him, “Now, if you love me, prove it
by casting yourself this instant into the cauldron of boiling oil.”
The youth instantly rose up, and was about to plunge into the burning
liquid, when the queen exclaimed, “Hold, I spoke to try your
affection. Now I am satisfied, and I agree to your request.” Hatim
remained for about a month with the fairy queen and her lover. At the
end of this period, the queen confirmed her promise, having sworn by
the seal of Sulaiman to visit the youth soon. Having then bid adieu to
Hatim and her lover, she ordered some of her fairies to conduct them
to the mouth of the well. The fairies seized the mortals by the hand,
and in the twinkling of an eye they found themselves at the mouth of
the well. The guides then vanished into the deep, and Hatim presented
the young man to his fond parents. The chief of the city and all the
inhabitants were highly delighted at the sight, and prostrated
themselves at Hatim’s feet in token of their gratitude. They then
returned to the city, and for many days vied with one another in
treating the generous stranger with every mark of affection.

At length the fairy, agreeably to her promise, visited the enamoured
youth. Two weeks after Hatim once more betook himself to the road, and
in the course of a few days arrived at a large and populous city. As
he was about to enter the gates, he met an old man standing upon the
road. When the old man observed him, he approached and said, “My
blessings be upon you, noble stranger; welcome, thrice welcome to our
city.” Hatim returned this courteous salutation, whereupon the old man
said to him, “If you will for this night reside in my house, and taste
of my salt, it will be doing me the highest favor.” Hatim thanked the
old man, and accepted his hospitable invitation. Arrived in the house,
the old man presented him with food; and after they had eaten
together, the aged host said, “Tell me, noble sir, if such be your
pleasure, what is your name, whence are you, and whither do you
travel?”--“I am an Arab,” replied Hatim, “and am on my way from
Shahabad to the bath of Badgard, which it is my intention to explore.”
The old man hearing this, long held down his head in deep reflection,
after which he said to Hatim, “Devoted man, what enemy has sent you on
so perilous an errand? I have been assured that no man has hitherto
visited Badgard and come back to tell the news. The place is in the
vicinity of a city called Katan, the name of whose king is Harith.
Around his dominions are stationed numerous sentinels, whose duty it
is to bring before their king whatsoever stranger attempts to visit
Badgard. When carried to the presence of Harith no one knows how they
are treated, for they never return.” Hatim, nothing daunted, related
to the old man the cause of his journey, and detailed his former
adventures in behalf of Munir the Assyrian prince. “This,” concluded
Hatim, “is the seventh and last question, from which I will not
shrink.”--“May heaven reward your generosity and bravery,” replied the
venerable host. “Be advised by me, and turn back: the bath of Badgard
is all enchantment; of its inner mysteries no one can give the least
account.”--“Venerable sir,” resumed Hatim, “how can I possibly return?
Would you have me act as a coward?”--“Listen to my counsel,” replied
the host, “and cast not away your life like the frog that disregarded
the advice of his friends, and at last had cause for
repentance.”--“Tell me,” said Hatim, “what happened to the frog?”

The old man thus spoke: “In the region of Sham it happened once upon a
time that a number of frogs were living happily together in a pond,
when one of them took it into his head to remove to another pond in
the vicinity. ‘Travelling,’ said the frog to himself, ‘is the means of
rendering the poor man rich.’ His friends remonstrated, saying, ‘Fool
that you are, what absurd idea is this which has found its way into
your head? Abandon such vain thoughts, otherwise you will have cause
to repent when too late. Know you not that he who disregards the
admonition of the wise will end in misery and shame?’ The brain of the
frog was filled with the wind of self-conceit; he therefore would not
listen to the advice of his friends, and forthwith quitted the pond
along with his wife and young ones. On their way to the next pond,
they rejoiced in the anticipation of the happiness and ease and
independence which awaited them. At length they arrived on the brink,
and were about to enter their new residence, when all at once a
water-snake thrust out its head to welcome them. This snake had for
some time occupied the pond, and had devoured all the frogs that were
in it. Having had no food for some days previous, the serpent no
sooner saw the frogs than he began to devour them one after another.

“The old frog that had caused the removal, quickly dived into the
bottom of the pond, and having escaped the mouth of the snake, watched
his opportunity, and returned to his former abode. His old
acquaintances seeing him return alone, without his young, opened upon
him the tongue of reproach, and said, ‘Rash fool that you are, how
dare you come among us without your wife and young ones? Tell us
quickly, what has happened to them and you when absent; can it be
possible that you have left them to destruction?’--The frog, full of
shame and remorse, listened, but replied not, while the others were
the more urgent in their inquiries. At last they all attacked the
unfortunate frog, and having almost killed him, they said, ‘Such is
the reward of vanity and folly’; and he who disregards the admonitions
of the wise will become involved in similar calamities.”

When the old man had finished the story of the frog, he said, “Brave
Hatim, apply your ear to my advice, and turn back in time ere your
calamity be past remedy.”--“I am confident,” replied Hatim, “that all
you have stated is kindly meant; but remember that I am acting for
others, not for myself, and I will never disgrace myself by abandoning
a task which I have promised to accomplish: for the sake of God, then,
shew me the way, and let me depart.” When the old man saw that Hatim’s
resolution was not to be shaken, he yielded to necessity and conducted
him out of the city till they came to two roads, when he stopped short
and said, “Noble Hatim, proceed on the right-hand road, which will
take you through many a city and town. At length you will come to a
high mountain, where there are dangers innumerable. Should it please
God that you surmount these, you will then come to a spot where the
road branches into two. There I would advise you to take the left-hand
path, for though that to the right be the nearer, it is highly
dangerous; whereas the other, though circuitous, is safe and free from
peril.”

Hatim thanked his aged friend, and said, in reply to the latter part
of his instructions, “My venerable benefactor, if our life be not
decreed, we cannot live; and till the hour appointed by fate, we
cannot die. Do you really advise me to shun the path that is short,
and hold to that which is circuitous?” The old man smiled, and said,
“O Hatim, have you not heard what the poet saith?

 ‘Take the road that is safe, though it be long;
 Marry not a shrew, even if she seem an angel.’

“Farewell, my brave and generous friend, and let me warn you of your
danger, if you follow not my directions.” Hatim having taken his
leave, proceeded on his way; and in the course of a few days, as he
was approaching a large city, the sound of drums and trumpets reached
his ear. It seemed as if the inhabitants were in the celebration of
some grand festival; and when he drew nearer he found them assembled
without the walls in a spacious plain, which was everywhere adorned
with finely embroidered sofas and couches. In the midst of the
assembly was a constellation of beautiful damsels, some enchanting the
heart with their melodious song, and others occupied in the graceful
movements of the dance. In another part of the plain were fires, and
all the utensils of cookery employed in dressing food.

At length Hatim mingled with the joyful throng, and began to ask one
of them what was the cause of such pleasure and mirth. “Stranger,”
said they, “our city is every year visited by a formidable dragon,
which on the occasion transforms himself into a human shape. We are
compelled, on pain of death and destruction, to allow this dragon to
carry off his choice of the fairest of our daughters, whether rich or
poor. Those that are most beautiful are led forth to these tents,
arrayed in fine apparel, adorned with costly jewels, and having their
hands perfumed with fragrant scents. The monster in human shape enters
the tent where the damsels are assembled, and carries off her on whom
his choice rests. We are forced to make this shew of joy, though our
hearts are sad, for the appointed day is arrived, and no one knows who
is to be the victim. We thus celebrate the nuptials ere we know who is
the bride, but for the next seven days our joy is converted into grief
and lamentation.”

On hearing this strange circumstance, Hatim concluded that the dragon
must be one of the genii. He said to them, “Is it not madness in you
to mimic joy at your own destruction?”--“How can we act otherwise?”
they replied; “who is the man that can deliver us from our
calamity?”--“Be of good cheer,” returned Hatim, “this night I will
endeavor, by the aid of heaven, to rid you forever of your evil.” When
the people heard this promise, hopeless as it was, they informed their
king and grandees of the stranger’s presence. Hatim was quickly
introduced, and after the usual salutation, the king asked him, “Are
you aware, brave stranger, of the nature of this calamity with which
we are afflicted? You say you can avert the impending evil; if you
will do so, it will be to me and my subjects the greatest of
blessings.”

In reply, Hatim gave the following instructions to the king: “When
this dragon has come, and made his choice of your daughters, say to
him, that a neighboring prince has just arrived in your city; that he
has enjoined upon you not to give away your daughters on any account
without his permission. Say further, if the dragon threatens
destruction to you and your city, that you will rather bear the
consequences of his anger than offend the stranger prince.” The king
and his ministers assented to this proposal, and for the whole of that
day detained Hatim in their society. Towards evening the dragon
approached as usual; and when Hatim was informed of the fact, he asked
permission of the king to go and see the monster. The whole assembly
came out to see the arrival of the dragon, the size of which was
immense. Hatim stood astonished when he saw its head reared aloft like
a tall tree, and the stones crushed into powder beneath its weight.

At length the dragon reached the tents, and in presence of the
terrified assembly, lashed the ground with his tail; and having
performed some fearful contortions, he assumed a human shape. The
people then crowded round him to proffer their salutations, and the
king invited him to his palace, and placed him upon his own throne.
After they had partaken of food and drink, the genius rose up and
commanded them to produce their daughters. “Let us proceed to the tent
which they at present occupy,” said the king. The genius entered the
tent, and after due examination, his choice rested upon the king’s
only daughter, who was by far the fairest in the city. He came out and
made known his choice to the king, who immediately stated his
objections, saying, “A prince of great power has for some time resided
at my court, and if I do aught without his consent, he will assuredly
destroy both myself and my subjects from off the face of the earth. I
must therefore, in the first place, consult him ere I allow one of our
daughters to be carried off: if I receive his permission, good; if
not, I shall refuse your claim.”

The genius, enraged at such opposition, commanded the king forthwith
to produce this daring stranger. Hatim was accordingly conducted
before the king of the genii, who thus addressed him: “Brave prince of
Yemen, I rejoice to meet you; it is now some time since I have seen
you, or even heard of your name. Tell me whence come you at present,
and what is your object in exciting the people of this city to rebel
against me? Do you really wish that I should destroy them in my
wrath?”--“I am far from desiring what you state,” replied Hatim, “but
the people of this country are now my subjects, and therefore they are
right in withholding their allegiance from other powers. I am most
willing, however, to bestow on you the late king’s daughter, provided
you comply with the ancient customs of my country.”--“Your request is
fair,” replied the prince of the genii; “let me hear, then, what these
customs are.”--“The first,” said Hatim, “is this: I have a talisman
which once belonged to a wise and illustrious ancestor. It is
necessary, then, as a pledge of friendship, that you drink water from
a cup touched by that talisman.”

To this proposal the prince of the genii expressed his assent, and
Hatim took a cupful of water, and dipped into it the potent muhra of
the bear’s daughter, after which he gave the draught to the genius to
drink. The charm took effect, for no sooner had the genius drained the
cup, than, by the decree of the Most High, he was deprived of all his
enchantment, his power reduced to that of an ordinary mortal. Hatim
again said to him, “The next ordeal you must undergo, is to enter this
large jar and remain for some time shut within it. If you do this, you
shall have the king’s daughter; otherwise, you must pay, instead, a
thousand rubies, a thousand diamonds, and a pearl of the murghab.”

The genius prided himself on his skill in magic, and his supernatural
power; he therefore accepted the proposal without hesitation. Hatim
brought a large jar, and told him to enter. The genius entered the
jar, and Hatim immediately shut the mouth of it; and having pronounced
the sacred charm of the blessed Khizr, the lid of the jar became firm
as a rock of adamant. He then called to the prince of the genii to
come out, but it was no longer in his power to do so. Hatim ordered
the people to collect a large quantity of dried wood; and having piled
up the same around the jar, he set fire to it. The genius now found
himself undone; for as soon as he felt the heat, he made every effort
in his power to break the jar and effect his escape. His attempts were
fruitless, for in a very short time his life was consumed, and the jar
was cast into a deep pit, and covered over with earth and stones.

Hatim then addressed the people, saying, “Rejoice, my friends, for
your enemy shall no more harass your country.” The king and all the
people proffered their gratitude to Hatim, and presented to him gold
and jewels, and whatever was rare and valuable. “I covet not such
gifts as you offer me,” said Hatim, “they are of no service to me at
present, but I will accept them of your hands, and distribute them
among the poor and destitute of the city.” Every house in the city
resounded with the praises of Hatim’s wisdom, beneficence, and
generosity. For three days they detained him, and vied with each other
in doing him service; and the whole country was one scene of joy and
festivity.

On the fourth day Hatim took his leave, and turned his face to the
road. In the course of time he arrived at the foot of the mountain
which the old man had described. He passed on without any
interruption, and came to the desert, where he found abundance of
sweet water, and witnessed many of the wonders of the creation. After
he had passed through the desert, he came to the spot where the road
separated in two directions. Here he unfortunately forgot the old
man’s advice, for he really intended to take the safe road, though
circuitous. “I must never,” said he to himself, “disregard the advice
of the wise, and the old man earnestly advised me to take the
right-hand path.” Hatim accordingly proceeded rapidly on his way; but
he soon changed his mind, and turned aside in order to find the
left-hand road. He soon found himself involved in a forest abounding
with underwood of thorns and brambles, so that every step he took was
attended with difficulty. He had not long advanced, when the clothes
were torn from his body; and he bitterly regretted his disregard of
the old man’s directions.

Hatim at length, after vast labor, got clear of the forest; but no
sooner did he appear in the open plain than thousands of griffins
rushed upon him from all quarters. Hatim stood terrified at the sight,
for those animals had a most frightful appearance, in some measure
resembling a tiger, a dog, and a fox, as if these three animals had
been formed into one. When the griffins were about to devour Hatim, on
a sudden an old man stood by him, and said, “They who disregard the
admonitions of the wise, end in distress and misery.”--“Forgive me,
venerable man,” said Hatim, “I have grievously erred.”--“Lose no
time,” said the old man, “in using the talisman of the bear’s
daughter: cast it on the ground before you.”

Hatim immediately produced the precious muhra; and the moment he threw
it upon the plain the old man vanished from his sight. The effect of
the muhra was wonderful: the ground assumed a yellow hue, it then
became black as night; after that, it changed into green; and lastly,
it became red as fire. Meanwhile the griffins were diverted from their
attack upon Hatim, and ran furiously at one another. The fight was
terrible, and in the course of a few minutes they all perished by
mutual slaughter. Hatim looked with astonishment at the carnage, and
praised the great Creator for his deliverance. He then took up his
talisman and prepared for his journey.

As he advanced, he came to a desert of solid brass, the vegetation of
which consisted of sharp pins of brass and iron. He had no sooner
entered the desert than these pins pierced his feet. Onward he limped,
however; and in the agony of pain, said to himself, “O Hatim, it
becomes thee to suffer calamity without murmur, for what avails regret
at present?” He proceeded thus for some time, while the soles of his
feet were pierced like a sieve. At length he thought he could see the
extremity of the desert, when on a sudden dragons of immense size and
terrible aspect rushed from all quarters to devour him. The dragons
bore a mixed resemblance to the eagle, the tiger, and the fox: their
tails resembled that of the jackal, and their feet resembled those of
the eagle. Hatim cast a look of despair around him, and was about to
bid adieu to life, when the old man stood by him, took him by the
hand, and said, “Be brave; does it become Hatim to fear?”--“Wonderful
man!” replied Hatim, “it is not in any mortal to behold these monsters
and refrain from trembling.”--“Have recourse to your talisman,” said
the old man. Hatim drew out the sacred muhra, and cast it upon the
ground. The effect was such as he had lately witnessed; for the
dragons stood abashed, and the color of the ground was changed, and
when it became red the monsters furiously encountered one another till
not one of them was left alive.

Hatim took up his muhra and having resumed his journey, devoutly
thanked his Great Preserver for deliverance from such dangers. In the
course of a few days he arrived at a very large city. When the people
saw him they were astonished, and said, “Tell us, wonderful man, how
you were able to pass in safety through the brazen desert.”--“I am
indebted for my safety,” replied Hatim, “to the goodness of God alone.
He has watched over me in the hour of danger, for none of the monsters
that infest the desert has done me the least harm.” Now the forest of
brambles and the brazen desert had been long considered in that city
as impenetrable, and all travellers and caravans had been previously
compelled to take a long and circuitous route in approaching the city.
When the people, therefore, saw Hatim approach their city by these
dangerous quarters, they became highly interested in the subject, as
they saw a prospect of opening an easy communication with the rest of
the world. When the king got intelligence that a stranger had arrived
safe by the short and dangerous route, he could scarcely believe the
information, and immediately despatched some of his people to
ascertain the fact and in the meantime to detain the stranger. The
messengers went and made the necessary investigation. They returned,
and informed the king that if a path were cut through the forest, it
would be quite safe in every respect.

At this intelligence his Majesty was highly pleased and having sent
for Hatim, said to him, “Noble stranger, I have done you wrong in
suspecting the truth of your statement, and I pray for your
forgiveness. I confess I did not at first believe you. I, therefore,
placed a watch over you till I should be assured of the fact by my own
people: had I found that you had deceived me, I should have punished
you accordingly.”--“Your Majesty,” replied Hatim, “has acted as a king
ought, that is, according to strict justice; for it is expedient that
the liar should suffer punishment. But why should I deceive you, in
stating what was untrue?”

The king then brought forth loads of gold, and said to Hatim, “Accept
this as a reward for the services you have done me.”--“I am alone,”
said Hatim, “I cannot carry this gold with me, and I have no one to
carry it for me.”--“My own people,” replied the king, “shall convey it
to your country.”--“I have a dangerous journey to perform,” returned
Hatim, “and an important task to accomplish: till that is done, I
cannot visit my native country.”--“Tell me,” resumed the king,
“whither are you bound, and I will accompany you in person.”--“In a
neighboring country,” said Hatim, “is the bath of Badgard: I am going
to explore it, but I have heard that no one has hitherto returned
thence with life.”--“You have heard the truth, noble stranger,” said
the king; “I, therefore, advise you as a friend to banish such
thoughts from your mind.”--“What is decreed must happen,” replied
Hatim; “my resolution is fixed.”

When the king found Hatim resolute, he appointed two of his people to
accompany him, and ordered them to shew him the way to Katan. They,
therefore, set out; and after some days’ travelling, his guides told
him that their orders permitted them to go no further. They then gave
him directions as to his route, and took leave. When Hatim arrived
within the territories of Katan, the people asked him whence he had
come. He told them the object of his journey and the dangers he had
experienced. When they heard from him that the griffins of the forest
of brambles, with the dragons of the brazen desert, were extirpated,
they rejoiced exceedingly.

At length Hatim reached the city of Katan, and took up his residence
for some days in a caravanseraï. After he had reposed for a few days
he wished to present himself before the king. Selecting two pearls,
two rubies, and two diamonds of immense value, he went to the palace
gate. The janitors informed his Majesty that a stranger wished to be
admitted, and at the same time presented the jewels. The king ordered
them to procure his name, and ask of him the nature of his business.
They returned to Hatim, and examined him according to the king’s
command. “I am a native of Yemen,” replied Hatim, “and have journeyed
hither from the city of Shahabad; if further explanation be necessary,
I will detail my whole history to his Majesty, should he honor me with
an interview.”

The janitors returned to the royal presence, and stated, “Sire, the
stranger is a merchant of Yemen, lately come from the city of
Shahabad, and anxious to have an interview with your Majesty.” Hatim
was immediately admitted, and the king said to him, “Tell me, stranger
merchant, where is your caravan, and what merchandise have you to
dispose of?”--“Sire,” said Hatim, “it is now some time since I have
left off traffic, and adopted the profession of a soldier. I happened
to pass this way, and longed to pay my respects to your Majesty.”

The king greatly admired Hatim’s courtesy, and treated him with the
highest respect. After various conversation, Hatim took his leave, and
the king said to him at withdrawing, “Brave stranger, I trust you will
gladden my heart by residing some time at my court.” Hatim remained
six months in the capital, and every day went to pay his respects to
the king, with whom he became a great favorite. He one day, observing
the king in good humor, took the opportunity of presenting to him a
casket of most valuable jewels. The king received the jewels with
great satisfaction, and having made Hatim sit by him, said, “Noble
stranger, you have now resided with us for months, but never have I
had the pleasure of doing you the least service. I am ashamed when I
look upon the numerous gifts you have bestowed upon me, and when I
consider that you have never asked of me any favor in return.”--“May
your Highness live long,” rejoined Hatim; “there are few things
earthly which I desire; but, if I may be allowed to express my wish,
there is one boon I will venture to ask of you.”--“It is already
granted,” replied the king; “therefore, speak your wish and it shall
be satisfied.”

Hatim availed himself of this favorable opportunity, and said to the
king, “I have an ardent desire to explore the bath of Badgard; I
humbly crave your Majesty’s permission, therefore, that I may satisfy
my curiosity.” The king for a long time held down his head in silent
meditation, while Hatim stood by anxiously waiting the result. At
length his Highness broke silence, saying, “Stranger, your request has
caused me much concern, for various reasons: in the first place, I
have made a vow never to let mortal man visit the bath of Badgard;
secondly, if you go, you must inevitably perish in the prime of youth;
thirdly, I esteem you so highly, that I should forever regret having
permitted you to throw away your life; and, fourthly, I cannot endure
the idea of parting with you, on any account. Consider, then, my dear
friend, how painful it is for me to grant the fatal boon you ask.”

To this Hatim replied, “Sire, I have experienced many dangers, and I
have every hope of returning safe from the bath of Badgard.” He then
related the whole of his past adventures in behalf of the Assyrian
prince Munir, the lover of Husn Banu, and stated in conclusion, that
his seventh and last labor was to explore the bath of Badgard. The
king listened to Hatim’s narrative, and after he had finished, said to
him, “Generous man! heaven will assuredly protect you in what remains
of your task; for there lives not, as I conceive, a more worthy object
of the care of Providence than you. Let me, however, once more remind
you, that multitudes of people have hitherto entered that mysterious
bath, and none has returned; but I hope you will be more fortunate.
Meanwhile tell me truly your name and rank, for you are not what you
seem.”--“My name is Hatim, and my father is king of Yemen,” was the
reply.

When the king heard this, he arose from his seat, clasped Hatim in his
arms, and said, “You speak the truth, brave prince of Yemen; your brow
is stamped with the seal of royalty; and your name is destined to be
proverbial in the world for everything that is noble and generous.”
Having thus spoken, the king commanded a passport to be written for
Hatim, to be presented to the keeper and guardian of the bath of
Badgard. When the order for admittance to the bath was ready and
impressed by the royal seal, the king delivered it to Hatim, and
appointed a few of his people to accompany him.

Hatim took an affectionate leave of the king, and attended by his
guides, betook himself to the road. Fifteen days after, the top of a
mountain became visible. Hatim asked his guides, “What mountain is
this before us, whose lofty peak pierces the vault of heaven?”--“It is
the mountain of Badgard,” they replied, “and the entrance into the
bath is on the side of it; but near as it may seem, it is still seven
days’ journey hence.” When they arrived at the base of the mountain,
Hatim was surprised to see it begirt with legions of armed men. He
asked his guides whose were the troops, and was told in reply that
they were under the command of the keeper of the bath, which no one
could approach without an order from the king of Katan. At length they
reached the outposts of the sentinels, who asked Hatim who he was, and
what was his business. The guides replied, “This is the prince of
Yemen, who has received the royal permission for admittance within the
bath.”

The sentinels immediately conducted Hatim before the keeper, to whom
he presented his passport. The keeper opened and inspected the royal
firman, which ran thus: “Know that it is our will that you admit the
prince of Yemen into the bath of Badgard. Let him not meet with the
least interruption on account of our late vow; and if it is in your
power to prevail upon him to return ere it be too late, fail not to do
so, and your reward shall be great.” The keeper folded up the
passport, conducted Hatim to his house, and entertained him for three
days in the most hospitable manner. He then began to advise him
earnestly not to proceed further; but on no account would Hatim listen
to his friendly counsel.

The keeper of Badgard, finding all his entreaties of no avail, at
length wrote to the king that the prince of Yemen was resolute in his
design. The king reluctantly answered, “If it must be so, grant him
admittance into the bath.” Once more the keeper endeavored to dissuade
him from his rash design, but Hatim’s resolution was fixed as a rock.
“Follow me, then, desperate man,” said the keeper, “and the blame be
yours.” Hatim followed the keeper till they came to the door of the
bath. Its size was immense, such as he had never seen during his whole
life. High on the wall was written the following words, “These are the
enchantments of King Kaiumarath, which are destined to last for a
time; whosoever enters shall not return. Here he shall remain without
hunger or thirst.”

When Hatim had read the inscription, he began to meditate within
himself whether that information was not sufficient, and if it would
not be needless to go further; but on mature reflection, he resolved
to enter and examine the place with his own eyes. He took leave of the
keeper, and boldly entered the door of the bath. He had advanced but
three steps, when, on looking around him, he saw neither the keeper
nor the gate of the bath, but a wide and dreary desert. He stood still
in astonishment and said to himself, “O Hatim, here is certainly the
end of thine earthly pilgrimage.” At length he aroused himself from
despairing thoughts and began to wander about the desert. After some
time he espied at a distance a human form, and great was his joy at
the sight; for he concluded that the place was inhabited at no great
distance.

He bent his steps toward the figure, and was delighted to find that it
was approaching him. When they came near each other, the strange
figure saluted Hatim, and having produced a mirror, presented it to
him. Hatim looked at the mirror, and said to the giver, “What is this
I see in the mirror? Is it not the bath of Badgard, and are you not
the keeper?”--“I am,” was the reply. “Tell me,” said Hatim, “how am I
to find the bath?”--“Proceed forward,” said the strange figure, “and
you will soon reach it.”

Hatim, rejoiced at this information, asked the man who he was. “I am,”
said he, “a hireling connected with the bath: I wander about here
waiting the arrival of strangers; when any one comes, it is my office
to conduct him into the bath, and attend him while bathing. For my
services I expect a handsome reward; so if you be liberal, it will be
better for you.”--“Are you the only attendant,” inquired Hatim, “or
are there others along with you?”--“There are others also who attend,”
replied the man, “but it is my turn to-day.”--“Well,” said Hatim, “I
have travelled from afar to enjoy this bath, therefore shew me the
nearest way.”

The man of the bath proceeded onwards, and Hatim followed till they
had gone nearly a farasang, when a splendid structure surmounted by a
lofty dome appeared before them. Arrived at the door the guide entered
the building, and motioned to Hatim to follow. Hatim entered, and the
attendant conducted him to a marble cistern brimful of pure water, and
said to him, “Stand in the water while I pour some of it over your
head.”--“Let me first,” said Hatim, “put off my clothes; for I cannot
enter the bath dressed as I am.” The man assisted Hatim in undressing;
after which he led him into the water, and poured three jars of the
liquid over his head. On the application of the third jar of water,
Hatim heard a tremendous sound, while thick darkness enveloped the
bath. As soon as objects became visible, he looked around him, and to
his dismay beheld the large dome converted into a solid mass of rock
transparent as crystal and hard as adamant. The floor was covered with
water, which gushed from the earth, and had by that time reached the
middle of his legs. The bath was every moment filling; and when the
water became knee deep, Hatim, in the utmost consternation, searched
round and round for an outlet from his prison. His efforts were
fruitless; no trace of the door remained; all around him was the same
solid, smooth, and transparent rock. Now the water rose to his breast,
and like a maniac he rushed backwards and forwards in search of some
way of escape. At length the depth of the water was such that his feet
no longer reached the bottom. He then kept himself afloat by swimming.
While in this state, he could not refrain from saying to himself, “O
Hatim, thy friends have uniformly dissuaded thee from this rash
undertaking; but thou hast disregarded their admonitions, and hast
cast thyself into calamity in spite of every warning. Well, what will
be, will be; if in the service of thy Creator thou shouldst lose a
thousand lives, it would be nothing.”

Finally Hatim was borne up by the water to the very pinnacle of the
dome. As his strength had become exhausted, he eagerly grasped the top
of the dome that he might rest a little from his toil. The moment he
touched the top a deafening noise like the loudest thunder burst upon
his ears, and in an instant he found himself standing in the midst of
a desert. He looked around, but nothing met his sight except the bare
earth and the silent skies. He advanced, it seemed a matter of no
moment which way, congratulating himself on his escape and considering
himself clear of the enchantment. For three days and nights he thus
proceeded, when he beheld at a distance a palace of lofty structure.
He advanced towards it, expecting to find it inhabited, and, on his
nearer approach, saw that the palace was surrounded by a beautiful
garden. As the door was opened he entered; but he had not ventured far
ere he thought it safer to remain without. He therefore made for the
gate by which he had entered, but no trace of it could he find. He was
now convinced that he had not yet got clear of the enchantment of
Badgard.

Hatim, thus helpless, wandered in every direction through the garden,
which abounded with flowers of every hue and trees bearing fruit of
every sort. As his hunger was extreme, he began to eat of the fruit;
but his appetite was not in the least diminished. At last he ventured
within the precincts of the palace, which was completely surrounded by
statues of marble. The statues stood in straight lines; and the lower
half of them seemed fixed in the solid rock which supported them.

Wrapt in wonder at what he saw, Hatim much desired to know the secrets
of that mysterious mansion. Meanwhile a bird like a parrot cried to
him from within the palace, “O Hatim, why stand you there? Why have
you washed your hands of life by journeying hither?” Hatim listened to
the voice of the parrot, and was about to enter the house, when he
happened to cast his eyes on the inscription over the door, which ran
thus: “Know, O mortal, that thou canst not escape hence with life.
This is the enchanted palace of the renowned Kaiumarath, who, when
hunting in these regions, found a diamond weighing fifty ounces. He
showed this superb diamond to his courtiers and attendants, and asked
them if they could produce another to match it. They declared that the
world did not contain its fellow. Kaiumarath then resolved to preserve
it in a place of such safety that no one could rob him of it. For this
purpose he built the bath of Badgard. The diamond is preserved in the
body of the parrot; and whosoever enters this garden shall never
return unless he get possession of the diamond. On the chair within
the hall is laid a bow with arrows; let the visitor take it up and
shoot three arrows at the parrot, and if he hit it directly through
the head he will be able to break the enchantment; if he miss, he at
once becomes a statue of marble.”

Hatim read the inscription, cast a look of despair upon the lifeless
statues, and exclaimed, “Alas, Hatim! thou too art likely to remain
here till the last day. Thou hast too rashly risked thy life and shalt
soon add another to the number of these victims. Well, in that case
thy troubles will cease, and the silence of death is preferable to the
misery of life. But if the Almighty has decreed thy success, then thou
wilt yet escape and thy friend be made happy.”

After this soliloquy Hatim entered the hall and lifted the bow and
arrows from the chair. He then took his station, applied one of the
arrows to the string, and carefully examined his distance. He drew the
arrow to his shoulder and shot; but the parrot leaped from the spot
where he stood, and clung to the roof of his cage. The arrow had
missed; and straightway Hatim’s feet became a mass of marble up to the
knees.

The parrot resumed his former station, and said to Hatim, “Desist,
rash man, ere worse befall thee.” In the utmost despair Hatim began to
consider his dismal situation, and while the tears filled his eyes, he
said, “Now indeed is my life ended; but is it not better to die than
to live in disgrace? My arrow has missed its aim and I am partly
transformed into a block of marble. Let me try another: if I succeed,
good; if not, I shall be at rest from the pangs of disappointment.” He
seized a second arrow, shot and missed; for the parrot had changed its
place as before. Again the parrot called, “Desist rash man, the
enterprise is beyond thy might.” Hatim had now become a lifeless
statue up to the waist; but he resolved to persevere to the last.
“Now,” he said, “my hope of life is indeed small; may God preserve all
others from a similar fate. My death is near, but happen what may, I
will discharge the third arrow. Whatever the Creator has decreed, must
come to pass.”

He now placed his whole reliance upon God, looked in the direction of
the parrot, took his aim, then shut his eyes, and let fly the third
arrow. In the hour of his despair the hand of heaven saved him. The
arrow pierced the brain of the parrot, which fell lifeless from the
cage. A fearful storm of whirlwinds, thunders, and lightnings burst
around him, while heaven and earth were involved in impenetrable
darkness. Hatim was terrified, and knew not whether he was still in
this world or had entered eternity. When the noise and disorder had
ceased, he no longer beheld the garden nor the palace nor the parrot.
At his feet lay the bow and arrows, and beside them a vast diamond of
brilliancy like the sun.

He rose up and seized the diamond. Instantly all the marble statues
started into life. When they saw Hatim, they asked, “Who are you, and
how have you been able to break the enchantment in which we were
held?” He told them the whole occurrence; and they prostrated
themselves at his feet and vowed to serve him while they lived. Hatim
took them with him and returned to the capital of Katan. On his way he
met some of the attendants of the bath who, on hearing the result of
his adventure, hastened to give the intelligence to their king. At
length Hatim reached the city, and had an interview with the ruler, to
whom he shewed the diamond, saying, “Sire, this jewel I present to
you; but it will be necessary for me first to shew it to Husn Banu,
after which it shall be returned to you. The people who accompany me
are poor and destitute; be pleased, then, to furnish them with the
means of subsistence till they reach their own country.” The request
was complied with and the people joyfully departed. Shortly after,
Hatim took leave of the king, who appointed a splendid retinue to
accompany him home furnished with everything requisite for the
journey. Hatim accordingly set off, and without any interruption
arrived safe in Shahabad. The people rejoiced when they saw him, and
forthwith conducted him to the gate of the palace of Husn Banu. The
lady gave orders for his immediate admission, and asked him to relate
the occurrences of his journey.

Hatim narrated in detail what he had seen and suffered, and produced
the diamond as proof. He then addressed Husn Banu, saying, “Now that I
have accomplished your tasks, may I request that you will perform your
promise to me?” She replied, “I am entirely yours. Dispose of me as
you think proper.” Hatim gave orders for a princely feast, and Husn
Banu was married to the Assyrian prince Munir, and so the two lovers
reached the summit of happiness.

The celebration of the marriage completed, Hatim took leave of Munir
and Husn Banu; and having, agreeably to his promise, sent the diamond
to the prince of Katan, he started for Yemen. When he entered the
boundaries of his native land, the whole country was one scene of joy.
“Hatim,” said the people, “after so long an absence, has returned to
his own country.” At length Hatim reached the capital of Yemen, and
was affectionately received by his father and mother. His arrival was
hailed with universal joy and every house resounded with music and
mirth.

His father shortly afterwards resigned the reins of government into
the hands of Hatim, and lived in retirement for the twelve remaining
years of his life. Hatim reigned long over Yemen; and blessed with the
affection of the beautiful Zarinposh, passed his life in uninterrupted
happiness.

Thus ended the seven adventures of Hatim Taï. May this narrative in
some degree perpetuate his memory, and cause his virtues to be
imitated by future generations.

 [The End]




 NOTES.

 INTRODUCTION NOTES.

 [i.01]
 #he said to the lion# Hatim (be it known) knew the languages of all
 animals, and conversed with them most freely wherever he went.


 BOOK I NOTES.

 [b1.01]
 #Do good, and cast it upon the waters# This is a common proverb in the
 Persian language.

 [b1.02]
 #Mahrū Shah# _Moon-faced_, an epithet expressive of great beauty of
 countenance.

 [b1.03]
 #presented him with water to wash his hands# A well-known Mahomedan
 custom previous to eating.

 [b1.04]
 #a painter... from behind a curtain# In Mahommedan countries, painters
 draw ladies’ portraits from behind a curtain or thin veil, as it would
 be considered a breach of delicacy in a female to show her face to a
 stranger.

 [b1.05]
 #stand on the roof# Roofs in the East are flat.

 [b1.06]
 #delineated every line and mole# Moles are considered as a rare
 beauty, and where the face has them not naturally, they are often
 supplied by art.

 [b1.07]
 #Munīr Shamī# Shamī, the Syrian. The name Sham is applied to the
 country around Damascus.

 [b1.08]
 #a thing laid by, will be found useful...# “Keep a thing by you seven
 years and you will find use for it.”--_English or Scotch proverb_.

 [b1.09]
 #Părīrū# Angel-faced, or fairy-faced.


 BOOK II NOTES.

 [b2.01]
 #Mountain of Kaf# The Mahommedans of the olden times, like the
 Christians before Copernicus, considered the earth as a plane of a
 circular form. On the confines or circumference of this circle it was,
 of course, necessary to have a substantial balustrade, to prevent such
 stragglers as might approach the remotest bounds from falling into
 another world: accordingly a mountain of immense altitude, which the
 Arabs called Kaf, probably from its supposed resemblance to a letter
 of their alphabet of the same name, was made to extend all around the
 earth. Hence the expression “from Kaf to Kaf,” signifying from one
 extremity of the earth to the opposite. The mountain Kaf was further
 supposed to be the abode of spirits, fairies, and giants.

 The Arabian lexicographers describe this mountain as being formed of
 emerald. In the Borhani-Kati, a valuable Persian Dictionary, we have
 the following description of it: “Kaf, the name of a famous mountain
 which surrounds the four quarters of the earth. They say that its
 altitude is five hundred farasangs (nearly two thousand English
 miles!) and for the most part the sea washes the base of it,” &c.

 [b2.02]
 #four farasangs# The farasang is nearly equivalent to four English
 miles in length. The Borhani-Kati describes it as consisting of twelve
 thousand guz, each guz being equal to twenty-four finger breadths.

 [b2.03]
 #Jumat# Jumat or Juma is that day of the week which the Mahommedans
 have appointed for devotion, and answers to our Friday.

 [b2.04]
 #Shahmuhra# Shah-muhra, a fabulous precious stone, supposed to be
 found only in the mouth of the dragon or serpent.

 [b2.05]
 #the arrow of love still pierces my heart# Oriental writers place the
 seat of affection not in the heart but the liver; at least the latter
 is the part at which Cupid generally aims his arrows. We find the same
 idea frequently expressed by the Greek poets: thus Anacreon iii. 27,

  Τανυει δε και με τυπτει
  Μεσον ἡπαρ, ὡσπερ οιστρος.

 [b2.06]
 #the natives were demons# The word [_Persian_] according to
 D’Herbelot, is the name of a race of spirits which resemble neither
 angels, devils, nor men; being what are called _Genii_ or _Demons_,
 and nearly the same as the giants in Greek mythology.

 [b2.07]
 #Solomon# Solomon (Suleiman) is a name, than which none is more famous
 in eastern tales. He is renowned not only on account of his wisdom,
 but also for his magnificence and supernatural power. His dominion
 extended over every living creature that inhabited the earth. The
 Creator placed under his obedience the whole race of fairies, spirits,
 demons and genii, good and bad, among all of which the oath by
 Suleiman is inviolable.

 [b2.08]
 #zakkūm# The zakkūm is a tree which grows in hell: its branches and
 leaves are of flaming fire, and the fruits which it bears are heads of
 devils and loathsome serpents. Thus in the sacred text (Koran. sur.
 xxxvii, 65, etc.): “_This tree is planted in the bottom of hell; and
 its fruits are heads of devils, and verily the damned shall eat
 thereof._”

 [b2.09]
 #Where is our king, and where are we?# Meaning, “the king is far
 hence, and shall know nothing of the matter.”

 [b2.10]
 #we have eaten salt together# Among the Arabs, this formed the
 strongest pledge of amity.

 [b2.11]
 #Kulzum# According to Muntakhib-ul-Loghat, Kulzum is a name given to
 part of the Red Sea.

 [b2.12]
 #Zulmât# The regions of darkness, which are said to contain also the
 water of immortality.

 [b2.13]
 #the two loaves which you used to cast into the river...# “Cast thy
 bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many
 days.”--_Eccl._ xi. 1.


 BOOK III NOTES.

 [b3.01]
 #you shall have no other wife than myself# As this injunction may
 appear a little unreasonable in a country where polygamy is lawful,
 the translator avails himself of the following remark on the subject
 by a very eminent Orientalist, M. Garcin de Tassy. In that learned
 author’s work, entitled, “Exposition de la Foi Musulmane” (Paris
 1822), he states, in a note to the preface, page 3: “La polygamie
 n’est pas chez les Musulmans aussi commune qu’on pourrait la croire.
 D’abord il faut avoir une certaine aisance pour entretenir plus d’une
 femme; et quand on a cette aisance, il faut encore vaincre la
 repugnance qu’ont en général les parens de donner une fille à un
 homme déjà marié; ou qui ne leur promet pas de n’avoir qu’elle
 seule pour épouse.”


 BOOK IV NOTES.

 [b4.01]
 #repeating certain attributes of the Deity# The great names, or
 attributes of the deity, are one hundred, and the repetition of them
 constitutes part of a Mussulman’s devotion. The formula commences
 thus: “There is no God but God. He is _most merciful, most gracious,
 the ruler of all, most holy_,” &c.--Vide Tychsen _Elementale Arab_, p.
 22.

 [b4.02]
 #Khwaja Khizr# Khizr is the name of a character famous among the
 Mahommedans. They say that he was vizier to Iskander Dhu’lkornain,
 that he discovered the fountain of immortality and drank thereof, in
 consequence of which he still lives on the earth, where he will be
 allowed to remain till the day of judgment. The word Khizr signifies
 _verdant_ or _green_, which is their favourite colour, having been
 worn by Muhammed himself, so that the Khwaja’s habit is quite in
 character.

 [b4.03]
 #Iblis# Iblis is one of the names of Shaitan, or the devil, and
 signifies (according to the Farhang-i-Mathnavi), _desperate_, or
 _hopeless of mercy from the Divine Creator_. The Mahommedans believe
 that God created the devil of the purest fire, admitted him into
 heaven, and appointed him to the high office of Lord Lieutenant of the
 Moon; but owing to his inordinate pride and ambition, he was deprived
 of his situation, and utterly expelled from the higher regions.

 [b4.04]
 #būtīmar# As I know not the English name for this bird, I shall add
 the description given of him in the Persian Lexicons, _Borhani Kati_,
 and _Farhangi Mathnavi_: “The [_Persian_] _būtīmār_ (called also,
 _ghamkhar_, or the sorrowful), is a bird that frequents the banks of
 rivers. He constantly mourns from fear that the water should become
 exhausted; and under that impression, however great his thirst, he
 never drinks. In Arabic he is called [_Persian_] _yamām_.” I may add,
 that, in Richardson’s Dictionary, _būtīmar_ is translated a heron,
 and _yamām_ a turtle-dove.

 [b4.05]
 The reader may remember a tale similar to the above in the
 introduction to the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. There is another
 of the same kind in Nakhshebi’s Tales of a Parrot, near the
 commencement of the work. In fact, Oriental authors of romance
 frequently indulge in episodes which tend to place the conduct of
 their ladies in no very favourable light. In the _Bahar-i-Danish_, a
 work written by Einayatullah, in the most flowery style of which the
 Persian is capable, there is a series of tales whose object is to
 dissuade a young prince from marrying a beautiful lady, of whom he is
 enamoured. One of these thus concludes: “O my prince, to be allured
 with the outward beauty of women, and to become a wanderer in the
 waste of madness, is to act contrary to the institutes of wisdom; for
 a life of sorrow follows such short-lived pleasures. The adorners of
 the assembly of learning and wisdom have by no means approved of such
 conduct, because the roses on the cheeks of women are unblest by the
 tinge and perfume of constancy.

  “_When the Gods were describing instances of constancy,_
  _At the name of woman, they broke their pens in despair._”

 It may be observed that some of Boccacio’s tales in the Decameron,
 bear great resemblance to those in the _Bahar-i-Danish_, but which is
 the imitation, and which the original, it is difficult to say.


 BOOK V NOTES.


 [b5.01]
 This is no fictitious description, as similar scenes may be witnessed
 in Hindoostan to this very day. We may observe, however, that the
 _satti_ is here placed in its most favourable light; and that if the
 grounds on which the Hindoo defends the practice were necessarily
 true, little could be said in opposition to him; but, situated as the
 world now is, it is to be feared that the widow’s affection is not
 always so very powerful as to carry her through the fiery ordeal. It
 is to be hoped that the time will speedily come when the rays of a
 purer faith will dispel from the fair regions of India a foul custom,
 that has originated from the demon of superstition, and has been
 maintained through the influence of a corrupt and interested
 priesthood.

 [b5.02]
 #Siyah-dil# Black-hearted.

 [b5.03]
 #Mihmanseraï# The house appointed for guests or strangers.


 BOOK VI NOTES.

 [b6.01]
 #Murghab# Murghab signifies properly an aquatic fowl, but is generally
 applied to a duck. There is also a river so called in the province of
 Khorasan.--Vide _Borhani-Kati_.

 [b6.02]
 #island of Barzakh# _Barzakh_, according to the Furhang-i-Mathravi, is
 the intermediate stage between this world and the next--like the
 purgatory of the Roman Catholics.

 [b6.03]
 #third watch# In the east, the most ordinary division of time is into
 watches, or rather was so formerly. In the astronomical day of
 twenty-four hours (or from sunrise to sunrise), there are eight
 watches, or [_Persian_] consequently every watch is at an average
 three hours. The day is divided into four watches, of which the second
 terminates always at noon, hence _do-pahr_ ([_Persian_]), _i.e._ two
 watches, is synonymous with mid-day; also _si-pahr_, or three watches,
 signifies the afternoon. The night is, in like manner, divided into
 four watches, the second of which expires at midnight. In Hindustan,
 the _pahr_ is divided into eight equal parts, called [_Persian_]
 _ghărī_, each equal to twenty-two minutes and a-half. We may add,
 that in Hindustani, the phrase _ath-pahr_, or eight watches, signifies
 perpetual.

 [b6.04]
 #Kibla# The Kibla is that spot to which the Musselmans direct their
 face in prayer, which is now the temple of Mecca. Jerusalem was the
 Kibla of the Mahommedans in the early part of Mahomet’s life, as it
 had been of the Jews and Christians previously; but in the second year
 of the Hijra, the Caaba of Mecca was fixed upon as the Kibla of the
 Musselmans, and in that direction (as nearly as they can discover)
 they turn their faces at prayer, in whatever quarter of the world they
 may be situated.




 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES.

The last two pages of Book IV (pp. 216-217) were missing from the
source text. Until a complete copy can be found, the missing text has
been supplied by the 1830 edition published for the Oriental
Translation Fund. If you can provide the missing pages please contact
Project Gutenberg Support.

The translator’s use of both accented (_e.g._ Munīr Shamī) and
unaccented (Munir Shami) names has been preserved.

Text-version only: “#” is used to indicate bolded text.

Alterations to the text:

Add TOC.

[Footnotes]

Add several footnotes from the 1830 edition.

Convert footnotes to endnotes.

[Book I]

Change “and her being beloved by _Muneer_” to _Munir_.

“man who exclaims in the words _above mentioned_” to
_above-mentioned_.

[Book II]

“There is a fairy named _Mah-pari_” to _Mahpari_.

[Book IV]

“Sam Ahmar and _Kalmak_ soon recovered their senses” to _Kamlak_.

[End of Text]