of him.” “Oh!” replied the Merchant, “I am grieved to hear this; for yesterday in the evening, as I parted from hence, I saw an owl in the air with a child in his claws; but whether it were yours I cannot tell.” “Why, you most foolish and absurd creature!” replied the Friend, “are you not ashamed to tell such an egregious lie? An owl, that weighs at most not above two or three pounds, can he carry a boy that weighs above fifty?” “Why,” replied the merchant, “do you make such a wonder at that? as if in a country where one rat can eat an hundred ton weight of iron, it were such a wonder for an owl to carry a child that weighs not above fifty pounds in all.” The Friend, upon this, found that the Merchant was no such fool as he took him to be, begged his pardon for the cheat which he designed to have put upon him, restored him the value of his iron, and so had his son again. * * * * * Other and very ancient Hindoo stories follow. _THE MAID, THE MONKEY, AND THE MENDICANT_ On the banks of the Ganges there was once a city named Makandi. And in a temple, not far from the river, there lived a religious mendicant with a large number of disciples. He was a great rogue, but to impress the minds of the credulous people of the neighbourhood, he affected to be perfectly indifferent to all worldly affairs, and even went so far as to have taken a vow of perpetual silence. Now, in this city there resided a wealthy merchant, who believed in the mendicant, and was one of his devoted followers. The merchant had a beautiful daughter, who had just come of age, and who, entertaining a tender feeling for a handsome prince who lived in the neighbourhood, had begun to communicate with him by means of a confidential servant. One day the mendicant came on a begging excursion to the house of the merchant, and his daughter, beautifully dressed, came out with a silver cup in her hand to give him alms. The beggar as soon as he saw her forgot his vow of perpetual silence, and exclaimed, “Oh! what a sight!” but immediately afterwards he was ashamed of the words which he had uttered, and hastened home to the temple. The merchant, who had heard these words, thought that there was something unusual in them, and followed the mendicant to his abode. The latter, on seeing him, said with tears in his eyes, “Friend, I know that you are greatly devoted to me, and I grieve to say that a great misfortune will come upon you. The marks upon the body of your beautiful daughter foretell the ruin of your family, and the loss of your wealth as soon as she is married.” These words frightened the merchant almost out of his wits, and he implored the hypocritical mendicant to tell him if there were any means of averting the catastrophe. “There is one remedy,” he replied, “but you will find it hard to practise. You must make a box with holes in the lid, in the form of a boat, and having administered