'And the sorry task of seeking favor is numbered in the miseries of life—
'Hast thou never watched, a-waiting till the great man's door unbarred? Didst thou never linger parting, saying many a last sad word? Spak'st thou never word of folly, one light thing thou wouldst recall? Rare and noble hath thy life been! fair thy fortune did befall!'
'No!' exclaimed I, 'I will do none of these; but, by retiring into the quiet and untrodden forest, I will show my discernment of real good and ill. The holy Books counsel it—
'True Religion!—'tis not blindly prating what the priest may prate, But to love, as God hath loved them, all things, be they small or great; And true bliss is when a sane mind doth a healthy body fill; And true knowledge is the knowing what is good and what is ill.'
"So came I to the forest, where, by good fortune and this good friend, I met much kindness; and by the same good fortune have encountered you, Sir, whose friendliness is as Heaven to me. Ah! Sir Tortoise,
'Poisonous though the tree of life be, two fair blossoms grow thereon:
One, the company of good men; and sweet songs of Poet's, one.'
"King!" said Slow-toes, "your error was getting too much, without giving. Give, says the sage—
'Give, and it shall swell thy getting; give, and thou shalt safer keep:
Pierce the tank-wall; or it yieldeth, when the water waxes deep.'
And he is very hard upon money-grubbing: as thus—
'When the miser hides his treasure in the earth, he doeth well;
For he opens up a passage that his soul may sink to hell,'
And thus—
'He whose coins are kept for counting, not to barter nor to give,
Breathe he like a blacksmith's bellows, yet in truth he doth not live.'
It hath been well written, indeed,
'Gifts, bestowed with words of kindness, making giving doubly dear:—
Wisdom, deep, complete, benignant, of all arrogancy clear;
Valor, never yet forgetful of sweet Mercy's pleading prayer;
Wealth, and scorn of wealth to spend it—oh! but these be virtues rare!'
"Frugal one may be," continued Slow-toes; "but not a niggard like the Jackal—
'The Jackal-knave, that starved his spirit so,
And died of saving, by a broken bow.'
"Did he, indeed," said Golden-skin; "and how was that?"
"I will tell you," answered Slow-toes:—
The Story of the Dead Game and the Jackal
"In a town called 'Well-to-Dwell' there lived a mighty hunter, whose name was 'Grim-face,' Feeling a desire one day for a little venison, he took his bow, and went into the woods; where he soon killed a deer. As he was carrying the deer home, he came upon a wild boar of prodigious proportions. Laying the deer upon the earth, he fixed and discharged an arrow and struck the boar, which instantly rushed upon him with a roar louder than the last thunder, and ripped the hunter up. He fell like a tree cut by the axe, and lay dead along with the boar, and a snake also, which had been crushed by the feet of the combatants. Not long afterwards, there came that way, in his prowl for food, a Jackal, named 'Howl o' Nights,' and cast eyes on the hunter, the deer, the boar, and the snake lying dead together. 'Aha!' said he,' what luck! Here's a grand dinner got ready for me! Good fortune can come, I see, as well as ill fortune. Let me think:—the man will be fine pickings for a month; the deer with the boar will last two more; the snake will do for to-morrow; and, as I am very particularly hungry, I will treat myself now to this bit of meat on the bow-horn,' So saying, he began to gnaw it asunder, and the bow-string slipping, the bow sprang back, and resolved Howl o' Nights into the five elements by death. That is my story," continued Slow-toes, "and its application is for the wise:—
'Sentences of studied wisdom, nought avail they unapplied;
Though the blind man hold a lantern, yet his footsteps stray aside.'
The secret of success, indeed, is a free, contented, and yet enterprising mind. How say the books thereon?—
'Wouldst thou know whose happy dwelling Fortune entereth unknown?
His, who careless of her favor, standeth fearless in his own;
His, who for the vague to-morrow barters not the sure to-day—
Master of himself, and sternly steadfast to the rightful way:
Very mindful of past service, valiant, faithful, true of heart—
Unto such comes Lakshmi[9] smiling—comes, and will not lightly part.'
"What indeed," continued Slow-toes, "is wealth, that we should prize it, or grieve to lose it?—
'Be not haughty, being wealthy; droop not, having lost thine all;
Fate doth play with mortal fortunes as a girl doth toss her ball.'
It is unstable by nature. We are told—
'Worldly friendships, fair but fleeting, shadows of the clouds at noon
Women, youth, new corn, and riches—these be pleasures passing soon.'
And it is idle to be anxious; the Master of Life knows how to sustain it. Is it not written?—
'For thy bread be not o'er thoughtful—God for all hath taken thought:
When the babe is born, the sweet milk to the mother's breast is brought.
He who gave the swan her silver, and the hawk her plumes of pride,
And his purples to the peacock—He will verily provide.'
"Yes, verily," said Slow-toes, "wealth is bad to handle, and better left alone; there is no truer saying than this—
'Though for good ends, waste not on wealth a minute;
Mud may be wiped, but wise men plunge not in it.'
Hearing the wisdom of these monitions, Light o' Leap broke out, 'Good Slow-toes! thou art a wise protector of those that come to thee; thy learning comforts my enlightened friend, as elephants drag elephants from the mire,' And thus, on the best of terms, wandering where they pleased for food, the three lived there together.
One day it chanced that a Deer named Dapple-back, who had seen some cause of alarm in the forest, came suddenly upon the three in his flight. Thinking the danger imminent, Slow-toes dropped into the water, King Golden-skin slipped into his hole, and Light o' Leap flew up into the top of a high tree. Thence he looked all round to a great distance, but could discover nothing. So they all came back again, and sat down together. Slow-toes welcomed the Deer.
'Good Deer,' said he, 'may grass and water never fail thee at thy need. Gratify us by residing here, and consider this forest thine own.'
'Indeed,' answered Dapple-back, 'I came hither for your protection, flying from a hunter; and to live with you in friendship is my greatest desire.'
'Then the thing is settled,' observed Golden-skin.
'Yes! yes!' said Light o' Leap, 'make yourself altogether at home!'
So the Deer, charmed at his reception, ate grass and drank water, and laid himself down in the shade of a Banyan-tree to talk. Who does not know?—
'Brunettes, and the Banyan's