rascally boy seemed to think of nothing else than how he might be the death of me by some means or other; and that he sometimes threatened with oaths to accomplish. And, indeed, there happened a thing by which his detestable malice was stimulated to more baneful efforts. On a certain day, when his excessive insolence had overcome my patience, I lifted up my powerful heels against him; and for this he retaliated by the following atrocity: he brought me into the road heavily laden with a bundle of coarse flax, securely bound together with cords, and placed in the middle of the burden a burning coal, which he had stolen from the neighboring village. Presently the fire spread through the slender fibers, flames burst forth, and I was ablaze all over. There appeared no refuge from immediate destruction, no hope of safety, and such a conflagration did not admit of delay or afford time for deliberation. Fortune, however, shone upon me in these cruel circumstances-perhaps for the purpose of reserving me for future dangers, but, at all events, liberating me from present and decreed death. By chance perceiving a neighboring pool muddy with the rain of the preceding day, I threw myself headlong into it; and the flame being immediately extinguished, I came out, lightened of my burden and liberated from destruction. But that audacious young rascal cast the blame of this most wicked deed of his on me, and affirmed to all the shepherds that as I was passing near the neighbors' fires, I stumbled on purpose, and threw my load into the blaze. And he added, laughing at me, "How long shall we waste food on this fiery monster?"

-The Golden Ass.

PART III

MEDIEVAL AGES

SHAKESPEARE's line,

"In the vast deep and middle of the night,"

gives no stronger or more absolute effect of darkness and blankness than the state of humorous literature during the vast deep and middle of the Mediæval Ages.

It is not possible to catalogue it with reference to time or place, for the mass of it came from the mouths of Tale-tellers or Song-singers, supplemented by the pencils or chisels of the caricaturists.

In the East, Folk Tales were abundant and they were brought to Europe as the wind scatters the seeds of vegetation.

Fables, Fairy Tales, Mother Goose Jingles, Collections of Anecdotes, all hark back to these jesting stories of the ancient Orientals.

Probably the oldest and most important link in the tracing of Indo-European Folk Lore is found in the Fables of Pilpay, or Bidpai.

This is the Arabic translation of the Pahlavi translation of the Sanscrit original of the Panchatantra.

The scope of the work is advice for the conduct of princes, offered in the guise of beast fables, and perhaps containing much of the material commonly attributed to Æsop.

Little or nothing is known of Pilpay, and his era has been variously placed at different dates between 100 B.C. and 300 B.C.

Others, indeed, declare that Pilpay was not an individual

but the name is that of a bidbah, the court scholar of an Indian prince.

The fables, as may be seen from the following selections, inculcate the moral teachings by means of stories about animals, to whom are attributed the thoughts and impulses of men.

Kalidasa, called the greatest poet and dramatist of India, is also of uncertain origin and birth date. He probably lived early in the Christian Era, and his writings, though not strictly humorous are instinct with the spirit of satire.

KALIDASA

HUNTING WITH A KING

MATHAVYA, a Jester

Mathavya. Heigh-ho, what an unfortunate fellow I am, worn to a shadow by my royal friend's sporting propensities! "Here's a deer!" "There goes a boar!" "Yonder's a tiger!" This is the constant subject of his remarks, while we tramp about in the heat of the day from jungle to jungle on paths where the trees give us no shade. If we are thirsty, we can get nothing to drink but some dirty water from a mountain stream full of dry leaves, tasting vilely bitter. If we are hungry, we are obliged to eat tough, flavorless game, and have to gulp it down at odd times as best we can. Even at night I have no peace. Sleeping is out of the question, with my bones all aching from trotting after my sporting friend; or, if I do contrive to doze, I am awakened at early dawn by the horrible din of a lot of rascally beaters and huntsmen, who must needs begin their deafening operations before sunrise. But these are not my only troubles; for here's a fresh grievance, like a new boil rising upon an old one: Yesterday, while some of us were lagging behind, my royal friend went into a hermit's enclosure after a deer, and there-worse luckhe caught sight of a beautiful girl called Sakuntala, the hermit's daughter. From that moment not a single thought did he have of returning to town; and all night long not a wink of

sleep did he get for his thoughts of the girl. But see here he comes! I will pretend to stand in the easiest attitude for resting my bruised and crippled limbs.

Enter KING DUSHYANTA

Mathavya. Ah, my friend, my hands cannot move to greet you with the accustomed salutation! I can do no more than command my lips to wish your Majesty success

King. Why, what has paralyzed your limbs?

Mathavya. You might as well ask me how it is my eye waters after you have poked your finger into it!

King. I don't understand what you mean. Explain yourself.

Mathavya. My dear friend, is that straight reed you see yonder bent crooked by its own act, or by the force of the current?

King. The current of the river is the cause, I suppose. Mathavya. Yes, just as you are the cause of my crippled limbs.

King. How so?

Mathavya. Here you are, living the life of a savage in a desolate, forlorn region, while the government of the country is taking care of itself. And poor I am no longer master of my own legs, but have to follow you about day after day in your hunting for wild beasts, till all my bones ache and get out of joint. Please, my dear friend, do let us have one day's rest!" Sakuntala."

UNKNOWN AUTHOR

THE CREATION OF WOMAN

In the beginning, when Twashtri came to the creation of women, he found that he had exhausted his materials in the making of man, and that no solid elements were left. In this dilemma, after profound meditation, he did as follows:

He took the rotundity of the moon, and the curves of creepers and the clinging of tendrils, and the trembling of

grass, and the slenderness of the reed, and the bloom of flowers, and the lightness of leaves, and the tapering of the elephant's trunk, and the glances of deer, and the joyous gaiety of sunbeams, and the weeping of clouds, and the fickleness of the winds, and the timidity of the hare, and the vanity of the peacock, and the softness of the parrot's bosom, and the hardness of adamant, and the cruelty of the tiger, and the hot glow of fire, and the coldness of snow, and the chattering of jays, and the cooing of the dove, and the hypocrisy of the crane, and the fidelity of the drake. Compounding all these together, he made woman, and gave her to man.

But after a week man came to him, and said:

"Lord, this creature that you have given me makes my life miserable. She chatters incessantly, and teases me beyond endurance, never leaving me alone. She requires attention every moment, takes up all my time, weeps about nothing, and is always idle. So I have come to give her back again, as I cannot live with her."

Then Twashtri said, "Very well," and took her back. After another week man came to him again, saying: "Lord, I find that my life is lonely since I surrendered that creature. I remember how she used to dance and sing to me, and look at me out of the corner of her eye, and play with me, and cling to me. Her laughter was music; she was beautiful to look at, and soft to touch. Pray give her back to me again."

And Twashtri said, "Very well," and returned woman to

man.

But after only three days had passed, man appeared once more before the Creator, to whom he said:

"Lord, I know not how it is, but, after all, I have come to the conclusion that she is more trouble than pleasure to me. Therefore I beg that you take her back again."

Twashtri, however, replied:

"Out upon you! Be off! I will have no more of this. You must manage how you can."

Then quoth man: