The Extravagant Hindu Legend.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XVIII, Issue 1702, 3 July 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

The Extravagant Hindu Legend.

Of the Hindu legends the most striking tedim-o is their wildness. Is it a protest against the dull monotony of life in India ? Or is life less monotonous to the native than to the European ? Lai Behari’s tales, anyhow, are wilder than the wildest bits of the “ Arabian Nights.” A young man puts an egg of the toontoonia bird into a cupboard, and out of it comes a babe that grows into the loveliest girl the world ever saw. Tha mannik stone in some snakes’ heads is worth the wealth of seven kings. In a certain city an elephant is king maker, but the king of his choice only reigns a day, for out of the queens mouth comes a threadlike snake, which slays him in the bridal chamber. A long-lost son, who had fallen in love with his mother, and has mounted the cow-house roof that he may break in and carry her off, happily hears his life’s story from two calves that are quietly discussing him below. A wife going out of doors on a dark night accidentally knocks up against a Sanfcohinni, white lady ghost, that sat on a low branch. The revengeful creature at once took her by the throat, thrust her into a hole in the tree, and went in, taking her shape so completely that the mother-in-law, that universal inmate of the Hindu hut, was deceived. The only difference was that, whereas the wife had been weak and languid, the ghost was brisk and active. “ She has turned over a new leaf; so muoh the better,” said the mother-in-law, when the errands and the cooking were done in next to no time. But one day the old woman caught sight of the ghost fetching something from the next room ghost fashion, by stretching out a long arm—for ghosts can stretch their limbs a great way, though pot as far as Rakshasis can. She said nothing, but told her son, and they watched, and before long they saw the kitchen hearth ablaze, though they knew there was no fire in the house. Looking through a chink they saw that the wife had thrust her foot into the oven, and that it was burning like a bit of wood. “ She’s a ghost,” they whispered, as they went for the ojha, who tested her by burning tumeric under her nose. She proved her ghostship by screaming, and was then beaten with slippers till she confessed and showed where the real wife was, and was again beaten till she promised never to do tho family any further harm. —All the Year Round.

A sacred burden is this life ye bear ; Look on it, lift- it, bear it solemnly, Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly. Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin, But onward, upward, till the goal ye win,