I found that poverty is, in fact, the sum of all wretchedness, the cause to its victim of all hatred, a very pit of slander and ill report. I discovered, too, that when one is poor he becomes an object of suspicion to those who had before confided in him; he is judged hardly by those who once thought well of him. If another commits an offence, he bears the blame. There is no quality praised in the rich that is not condemned in him. His courage is called foolhardiness. Is he generous? he gets the name of a squanderer. Is he humane? he is called weak. Is he grave? they call him stupid. Death itself is better than the want which drives one to beggary-especially to beg of the avaricious and the vile; and for the nobleminded it were easier, and more agreeable, to thrust his hand into the mouth of the viper, and swallow down its deadly venom, than to ask alms of the miserly churl. But to return to my story. I saw the guest take the dinars, and divide them with the hermit, who put his part in a purse, and laid it by his head. As it grew late, therefore, and the shadow of the night came over them, I had a strong desire to get hold of it, and carry it back to my hole; for I thought that this would restore my strength, or, at least, bring back to me my friends. So I crept up to the hermit as he slept, and had got very near his head, when I saw that the guest was wide awake, with a stick in his hand, with which he struck me a cruel blow that quickly sent me back. After the pain had ceased, the strong desire to get the dinars sent me out again, as before; but lo, the guest was still on the watch, and hit me another blow that made the blood come, and knocked me heels over head, until I fell faint ing in my hole, with such torturing pain as made the very name of money so odious to me, that I have never since heard an allusion to it without thinking of those dinars-so much of distress and terror they caused me. Then I thought with myself again, and found that the wretchedness which abounds in the world comes mainly from greediVOL. II.-6

ness and inordinate desire, and that those who have it never cease from misery, and weariness, and painful labor; so that they are more easily induced to make the most distant and laborious journeys in search of wealth, than the liberal man is to stretch out his hand for money when it is offered to him. There is nothing like content. This, at last, I came to see; and then I went from the house of the hermit, and dwelt in the open field, where the dove became my friend, and so I was led into this new friendship between me and the raven, who told me of the loving intimacy that existed between him and thee, and invited me to go along with him to your place. This I was very willing to do, and I will be to thee a true brother, and gladly make my residence near to thine own.

The field-mouse ceased speaking, when the tortoise replied with great kindness: I have listened, said she, to your words, and to the very interesting story you have told us. There is only one thing I wish to observe. Begging your pardon for saying it, there seems yet to linger in your mind something of a longing remembrance of the things you have renounced.* Know, then, that excellence of speech becomes perfect in excellence of act; for the sick man who knows the remedy for his disease, receives no benefit from his knowledge unless he takes the medicine. It gives him neither rest nor ease. Now, therefore, put your wisdom and experience in practice, and be no longer sad on account of the scantiness of your means t (that is, think no more about the di nars); for one who has true fortitude, and is held thereby in honorable esteem, even though he have not money, is like a lion who inspires awe even

*The Arabic text here is so very defective and confused, that the version of the sentence, as given, is taken from the Greek of Simeon Seth.

†The tortoise seems to intend here a very gentle rebuke to mousie for his long moralizing, intimating that he is like some other good people, who, though really converted, have still a little hankering after a world renounced,-showing this even in their expressed contempt for it, and in their sentimental fondness for talking about its vanities.

when he is lying down; whereas the rich man without manliness, and who is little thought of in the midst of his wealth, is like a cowardly dog which nobody cares for, though he has a rich collar about his neck, and rings upon his feet. And let it not grieye you your being in a foreign land; for the wise man in exile is like the lion, who, let him go where he will, his strength goes with him. So think well of what you have done for yourself; for if you do so, good will seek thee even as water seeks its descent. Success belongs to the diligent and the prudent; but as for the slothful and the shiftless, no good goes with him, any more than with the young woman who marries an old and withered man. For there are five things, it is said, in which stability and truth are not to be expected. They are, the shadow of a summer cloud, the friendship of the wicked, the love of women, the tale of a liar, and wealth rapidly grown. Wherefore the wise man will not be sad on account of the little that he possesses; for his wealth is his understanding, and the treasure of good deeds he has sent on before him (to the day of judgment): of this, he trusts that he shall never be robbed, whilst he has no fear of being charged with any false account for what he hath not done. He is not the one to be neglectful of his latter end, knowing that death is ever unexpected, and hath no appointed time. You need not my admonition, since you are yourself so knowing; but I thought to do you right, for you are our brother now, and all that we can teach or give is thine.

When the raven had heard what the tortoise said to the mouse, and how kindly and elegantly she had replied to him, he was vastly delighted. You have made me very glad, said he; you have conferred a great favor upon me;

*This "sending on of good deeds" before one is a peculiar Mohammedan and Koranic phrase; and must, therefore, be regarded as an accommodation of something of the same general import in the Indian or Persian. It resembles, however, very much the New Testament idea of "laying up treasure in heaven."

and may you ever have as much joy as you have given. For the good are ever watching over and helping the good. Especially is it the case that, when such a one stumbles, or falls into trouble, it is only one like him that gives him the hand; as when the elephant sinks in the marsh, it is only another elephant that can draw him out.

Now, whilst the raven was in the midst of this speech, there suddenly dashed in among them a gazelle, running very swiftly, and giving them all a terrible fright. Down sunk the tortoise in the water; away scud the mouse to his hole; up flew the raven and lighted on a tree. Then he soared high in the heavens,* that he might see if any one was in pursuit of the gazelle. Nothing, however, could he discover, and so he called to his friends, who thereupon came out again from their retreats. When the tortoise saw the gazelle looking eagerly to the water, Drink, said she, if you are thirsty, and be in no fear, for there is nothing here to cause you dread. Then the gazelle

This kind of language shows great antiquity. It is an Old Testament style of speech. We say, "birds of the air;" the scriptural term is everywhere (in the Hebrew), "birds of the heavens." It came from the idea of birds actually flying up to the heavens, the abode of the celestial powers. Hence afterwards, when superstition obscured the pure old patriarchalism, the wide-spread idea of divination by birds, as having some kind of intercourse with the heavenly beings. Thus, in Greek, there is the same word for bird and omen. We see it, too, in the Latin aus(avis)picium. This higher knowledge of the birds was supposed to be obtained by us in watching the direction of their flights, listening to their notes, or examining their vital parts in sacrifice. The raven, especially, was always regarded as a far-seeing, prophetic bird. This has been supposed by some to have had some connection with Noah's employment of him as a messenger from the ark. It was also the bird sent to feed Elijah. We need not attach much importance to this; but, at all events, the keen sight of birds, in their great elevation, is used, in the Bible, to represent surpassing or superhuman knowledge. Compare Job xxviii. 7: "a path which no fowl knoweth," and v. 21: "it is hid from the birds of heaven." The language is employed to denote great inscrutableness; referring to that bidden or higher "wisdom" which this sublime chapter represents man as seeking in vain through all nature. Compare, also, Ecclesiastes x. 20: "For a bird of the air (Heb., bird of the heavens) shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter."

drew nigh, and the tortoise saluted him, and wished him health, and said to him, Whence came you to us? I have been, said he, in the wide desert, where the riding huntsmen are ever chasing me from place to place. This day, in particular, I saw an old man coming along, who I was afraid might be one of them, and so I fled as usual. Don't be frightened, said the tortoise; for we never see any huntsmen here; and we will give you our love, and a place to live in; and here is water and pasture in plenty, if you can be content in our society. So the gazelle stayed with them, and there was a shady place where they all used to meet together, and had much good discourse, and told each other instructive stories. So they lived on, until at last, one day, the raven, and the mouse, and the tortoise, were together in the arisha, but the gazelle was missing. So they waited, and waited, hour after hour, but he came not. It was a long time, and they began to be very much afraid lest sonte harm might have happened to him. At last the mouse and the tortoise said to the raven, Your eyes are sharp; fly up, and see if there is any thing near to us. Then the raven soared very high in the heavens, looking keenly out, and, lo and behold! the gazelle lay afar off entangled in the nets of the huntsman. Down he flew swiftly, and told them what had happened. Then said the tortoise and the raven to the mouse, Here is work for you; we must despair, without your assistance, of giving any help to our brother. Come on, then, and aid him all in your power. The mouse started immediately with all speed, and when he came to the gazelle, Alas! said he, how came you in so sad a case as this? for you are one of the sharp-eyed, and should have looked out. Said the gazelle, What can sharpness do against the Fates? Whilst they were in this talk, the tortoise came crawling up, and the gazelle said, Alas! what possessed you to come? for if the huntsman gets here by the time the mouse has gnawed the nets, we must leave you to the foe; for there

are holes into which the mouse can run; but as for thee, O my slow friend, there is no hurrying thee, nor even moving thee. It is on your account, therefore, that I especially fear the huntsman's coming. Said the tortoise, There is no living away from one's friends; for when friend parts from friend, he is robbed of his heart, he is deprived of his joy, his eye is darkened. The tortoise was proceeding in this strain; but before she had finished her words, the huntsman drew nigh, and this was just at the time when the mouse had finished the cutting of the net. Immediately the gazelle made off with himself, the raven went soaring up in the air, and the mouse took refuge in one of the holes of the desert. Nothing remained but the tortoise. She was creeping off, when the huntsman came up and found his net cut to pieces. Looking round, right and left, he espied her moving slowly along, and immediately seized and bound her. In the meantime the raven, the 'mouse, and the gazelle, had made no delay in getting together as soon as possible, after they had seen the huntsman bind the tortoise. And their grief was very great, and the mouse began to talk wisely, and said: We can never know that we have passed through all trouble until we have been in the worst of it'; and he was very right, who said that one should never cease his efforts to keep out of difficulty; for when he has once stumbled, he will keep on stumbling, though he were walking on the smooth and level plain. Oh, how I fear for the tortoise, that best of friends, whose friendship, instead of being mercenary, or seeking any reward, is a generous and noble friendship-stronger, indeed, than that of a parent to his child-a friendship that death alone can destroy. Alas, for this body of ours,* so loaded

*The mouse's philosophizing here suggests some of the questions of the early Greek schools about the continual flux of matter, and change of bodily forms-" Does any thing stand?" It has, however, still more of a Buddhistic look. Some of the terms used by the Arabian translator show that he did not fully understand it. It is clearer in Simeon Seth.

with miseries, ever coming and going, ever flowing away, where there is nothing that stays, or remains the same;like the rising and setting star, one ever following the other, no rest, but change forever; or like the pain of wounds that are ever breaking out anew, so bleeds afresh the heart that is wounded by the loss of friends after it has enjoyed their society.

Then the gazelle and the raven said to the mouse: Surely we are anxious, as well as you; but your talk, though indeed it is very eloquent,* will give no "help to the tortoise; for it is truly said that men are tried in adversity, children and kindred are tested by poverty, and brothers are proved by evil fortune. True, said the mouse, but I can do something more than talk; I see a way to get us out of this trouble. It is this: let the gazelle go and fall down in view of the huntsman, as though he was wounded; and then let the raven pounce down upon him as though intending to eat him; whilst I will dart on, keeping near the huntsman, and watching him very closely; it may be that he will throw his stick at him, and, for that purpose, lay down the tortoise, giving his whole attention to you, that he yet may get possession of the gazelle. When he comes near, then start up again, and run on a little way, just far enough to keep up his eagerness, and make him think that he will be able to catch you; so, leading him on farther and farther from us, keeping one side of him, and just as near as you

This looks again as though the gazelle and the raven meant to be a little quizzical, on our very friendly, but rather overrighteous, mouse. We have specimens of such continual moralizing, without much rhyme or reason, in the discourses that pass between Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Indeed, all through, Cervantes seems to present it as a trait of the common Spanish discourse. They may have got it from the Arabians, who manifest this tendency very strongly in their ethics, poetry, and legends. The original unabridged Arabian Nights tales are full of it. In a sublimer form we see something of this rhapsodic Oriental sententiousness in the long speeches of Job's friends.

dare. During this time I will be gnawing the cords of the tortoise, with good hope of getting her loose before the huntsman comes back. The raven and the gazelle did what the mouse advised them. The huntsman went in pursuit, and the gazelle led him on until he had got very far away, while the mouse applied himself to the cutting of the cords, and the tortoise had time to get off to a safe hiding-place. When the huntsman came back, blowing and weary, and found the cords cut again, he fell to thinking over the matter, and all about the gazelle that he had been expecting to catch, and the curious conduct of the raven, until he began to think himself utterly muddled* in his understanding. He could not imagine how it was his cords all gnawed to pieces, and no one in sight; whilst the look of the place grew lonely and weird. Surely, said he, this must be the devil's territory, a land of Jins and sorcery. So he went away without hunting any more. But the raven, and the gazelle, and the mouse, and the tortoise, all came together in their shady retreat, safe and sound, and rejoicing in their good fortune.

Then said Bidpai, the philosopher, unto Dabschelim, the king: See how these creatures here, even in their smallness and their weakness, were able to deliver themselves from the bands of destruction-and that, too, time after time-because they had love in its purity and constancy, and were ever ready to help each other. And so MAN, on whom is bestowed reason and judgment, who is inspired to distinguish good and evil, and gifted with discernment and knowledge, HE, above all other beings, is designed for society, and fitted for friendship and mutual help.

This, O King, is the story for which you asked-a picture of true friends, and of the happy life they led.

* Arabic, choulat,—all mixed up, as we say.