he stumbled upon something which he imagined would doubtless assist him; it was a book called the Huka-yut-i-Hindee, or Indian Tales; but, after attentively examining them, he found they were too short and simple, all concluding with some moral lesson, which, perhaps, might not be acceptable to the Nuwab. Next came a beautifully written copy of the Tooti Nameh, or the Tales of a Parrot-a book too well known for him to borrow from; then the Aklaki Muhussune, or an Essay on Good Manners; and last of all a tale called Kúrbah Waw Kubooter, or the Cat and the Pigeon, which never having heard of before, he concluded it was written and invented by his father, whom he heartily wished was now alive to render him assistance. Neither of the two last-mentioned works affording him any help, he hastily re-deposited the manuscripts in the chest, which he once more consigned to its former station.

Almost the whole of the party being in the same predicament as the schoolmaster, they determined to present a petition to the Nuwab, representing their inability; but the whole city, especially the one hundred prisoners who had been released, but whose lives depended upon the obedience of the party appointed to amuse the Nuwab, were up in arms against them, threatening vengeance if they attempted a remonstrance or presented any petition whatever. Thus deprived of their only hope, they were under the necessity of making use of their own invention, and, in anxious uncertainty, awaited the termination of the month.

Kuzl-bashee, the dyer, hearing that a singular old woman resided in an obscure part of the city, kept his knowledge a profound secret, determining to visit her at midnight, being informed she

was in possession of several amusing histories of former times, and particularly in the reign of the Emperor Acbar. At eleven at night the sagacious dyer, enveloped in a dark blue cloth, proceeded to the lonely dwelling of the Sibyl, and there to his mortification beheld his old enemy the butcher in the act of egress. His hopes of success were now damped; but he thought he would, nevertheless, attempt to gain admittance, and accordingly tapped at the door; but the old beldame paid not the slightest attention to him, although he bawled through the door his offers of immense reward would she but admit him. Returning home, his wife, perceiving how disconsolate he was, enquired the reason, which having heard, she solved the mystery by informing her husband that the old woman was the grandmother of the butcher's wife; and that as Katil-bhae was one of the story-tellers, she of course would not assist any other person. Poor Kuzl-bashee not knowing what to do, or how to gain assistance, neglecting his business, sat melancholy at the door of his shop, where a Fakeer one day addressed him and begged for alms. The idea struck the dyer that this man, from his wandering habits, must certainly have learnt something worthy to be related to the Nuwab; he therefore sounded him on the subject, and the answers of the mendicant giving him great hopes, he invited him into his house, and entertained him. Having eaten a plentiful meal of rice, the mendicant, calling for tobacco, smoked away quite at his ease. 'My friend,' said he at last, 'what style of story do you wish for?-love tales, or battles,

.

or

Oh, anything,' said the delighted dyer; 'whatever you happen to have uppermost.'

'Very well,' replied the Fakeer; 'I am fatigued at present, and need repose, but will on my pallet call to my recollection a tale which I think will suit you, and will relate it to you in the morning.'

'Thanks, a thousand thanks,' said the dyer; 'I will reward you most liberally.'

The Fakeer, having finished his hookah, retired to his bed prepared for him by the attentive Kuzl-bashee, who, certain of being in possession of a story in the morning fit for the ears of a Nuwab, retired well-satisfied to rest.

In the morning, however, upon searching for the holy man, he was nowhere to be found; nor was his loss alone to be deplored, but many of his cloths, two brass pans, and a copper pot had also disappeared. The unhappy Kuzl-bashee beat his breast and bewailed his loss so loud, that his neighbours crowded around him; and, being informed of his misfortune, gave information to the Cotwall, who dispatched persons in all directions to apprehend the Fakeer; but all to no purpose-he was nowhere to be found.

The day on which all the party were to attend at the Deewan's palace, for the purpose of casting lots who was to relate the first story, at last arrived; and Moye-ed-din, having placed several folded papers in a cap, desired each to draw one, and that marked No. I was to decide the point. The lot fell on the Cotwall, who was desired to be in readiness to relate a story, before the Nuwab in person, on the first of the ensuing month. The Cotwall would not willingly have been the first to begin the series of tales; but, helpless, he made a sort of bow to Moye-ed

din, and without saying a word stalked away, followed by the remainder of the disconsolate band.

The half of the Zenana was divided by a large crimson curtain, behind which was the seat of the fair Persian lady and the rest of the ladies of the Harem. Immediately in front of the curtain was erected a throne for the Nuwab, on each side of which were carpets, with pillows for the accommodation of the minister, the general, the treasurer, the secretary, and other important officers exempt from the task of relating stories. In the centre of this formidable circle was placed a carpet for the relater of the story to sit upon, around whom were to be placed many persons who had made interest to be present.

The day having at length arrived, the Cotwall, after Durbar had broken up, advanced, expressing his readiness to attend for the purpose of relating his story. The Nuwab fixed the hour of one, and retired to take his mid-day repast. All being ready at the appointed hour, and the Nuwab having taken his seat on the throne, and the ladies arranged in order behind the curtain, awaiting the commencement of the entertainment with breathless impatience, the Cotwall was ushered in, and, having bowed to the ground three times, was desired to be seated on the carpet; and, silence having been commanded, he commenced the tale contained in the following chapter.

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CHAPTER XII.

THE COTWALL'S STORY.

In the year 1708, after the death of the mighty Aurungzebe, and many years previous to the invasion of India by the all-conquering Nadir Shah, all the country between the rivers Sutlej and Jumna was involved in bloodshed and confusion, occasioned by the war between the Sikhs and the Mahommedans. To add to the terrors of the times, the season of the periodical rains commenced with unusual violence; a storm arose which the oldest inhabitant had never before witnessed; every petty stream and nullah were soon converted into deep, broad, and impassable rivers. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed most awfully, whilst the wind bore down before it the stoutest trees of the forests in the district of Bhaber; whilst the swollen rivers of the Sutlej and Jumna were seen bringing down the wrecks of cottages and the carcasses of cattle, with many an unfortunate man clinging to the fragments of the former, or hanging on the stiffened limbs of the latter.

'Allah, protect us!' said old Nina to her husband (an old herdsman in the district of Bhaber), as they sat muffled up in their

1 Nanac Shah was the founder of this sect: his father was of the Cshatree caste.