As

S the Rajah Nala was walking in his garden at Nishadha, thinking of the beautiful Damayanti, his eye was arrested by a flock of swans. They came from a cloud above the garden, dropping from its white bosom like a garland of pearls. Some alighted in the tanks, where they swam merrily; others in flower-beds and on the boughs of trees, and one at the Rajah's feet. "This is strange," said the Rajah to himself; "I must see what it means." He stretched forth his hand to clutch the bird, but it fled before him, leading him down the path into a thick grove. At the end of the grove he caught it.

Slay me not, king of men," said the swan imploringly. Know that I am no bird, but the soul of a loving poet in its second transmigration. Pronounce over me the sacred words of the Veda, and I shall see the soul of my beloved in the flock of swans. In return for this divine kindness I will fly to Vidarbha, and praise you to Damayanti. She shall think of no one save you."

"I pity all lovers," said the Rajah with a sigh; "and, whether you serve me or not, I will help you to obtain your mistress." He pronounced the mystic spell, and the swan saw the soul of its beloved. "We will both praise you, king of Nishadha," sang the thankful bird, and calling his mistress with a human voice, the pair flew away in the direction of Vidarbha.

By noon they reached the stately city, and, seeking the garden of Damayanti, they dropped in a bower of roses. Now Damayanti, being fond of roses, had bent her steps to the bower to pluck one. She saw the swans as she entered; they stood side by side like lilies-like two white lilies whose heads lean together.

"Nala dwells in Nishadha," began the swans. "Wert thou wedded to him, Damayanti, his noble strength and thy perfect beauty would bear divine fruit. We have seen the gods, and the Gand harvas, tehir singers; the graceful-gliding people of Patala, and the demons who change themselves at will; but never the peer of Nala. He is the sun VOL. VII.-12

among men, as thou art the moon among women. If the peerless wed the peerless, blessed shall the union be."

"I love Nala," said the wondering Princess; "return and tell him so."

"We go," sang the swans; and while Damayanti plucked the rose they flew back to Nala, and told him all.

The swans took the heart of Damayanti with them. She dwelt no more with herself, but with Nala. The roses faded from her cheeks the more they bloomed in her bower. She grew pale and melancholy, and gave herself up to thought. Her handmaids pitied her secret grief; and one of them, who had heard the song of the swans, told the royal Bhima that his daughter pined for the Rajah Nala. "When maids are sick with love," said the wise old King, "it is time they were wedded." So he summoned the neighboring Rajahs to the betrothal of Damayanti. They crowned themselves with garlands, called their armies together, and, mounting their elephants, marched to Vidarbha. Bhima received them with honor, and they sat on thrones of state in his palace, while the streets swarmed with their soldiers.

The news of the approaching betrothal reached the gods, and Narada and Parvatas ascended to the world of Indra. The Cloudy saluted them. "How fares it with you and your world?"

"It is well with us," replied Narada, the friend of the beautiful Krishna.

"But why come ye alone? Where are mine ancient guests, the kings and guardians of the earth? They are always welcome."

"The renowned Damayanti, the daughter of Bhima, is about to choose a husband; therefore remain the kings. They are hastening to Vidarbha with all their pomp-suitors for the Pearl of the World."

"Let us go also," said the gods; and on the instant they were in their chariots hastening to the earth. As they sank through the air, they saw Nala on his way to the court of Bhima. He drove his chariot as skillfully as the fire-god drives the sun. His hair streamed behind him from his garland of flowers;

his robe fluttered like flame. Now he checked the speed of his flying coursers, whereat they tossed their manes and pawed the ground impatiently. Anon he plied the thong, and they left the wind behind. The celestials stayed their chariots in mid-air.

"Ho! Nala," they shouted, "we have a message for you. Stay, and do our bidding."

"Speak, I will do your bidding,” answered the Rajah, folding his arms and bowing his head. But who are ye, and what is the service ye require of me?"

"Know us," said Indra: "we are the Immortals, and we seek the love of Damayanti. I am Maghavan, the Cloudy; this is Yama; and yonder are Agui, and the King of Waters. Go to the maiden of Vidarbha, and proclaim our coming-say:

'Indra, Agni, Varun, Yama, each to seek thy hand are come;

One of these celestial beings, choose, O virgin, for thy lord.'"

"Spare me, and send me not upon this cruel errand. For how can I, enamored myself, plead for you?"

"Speak, I will do your bidding:' such was your promise, Rajah. You know our bidding. Do it. No more delay."

But how," sighed the unhappy lover, "how shall I enter the palace of Bhima? It is guarded strictly, night and day."

"Thou shalt enter,” said Maghavan; and even while the god spake, Nala found himself in the garden of Damayanti. He entered the bower of roses, as the swans had done before him, and there he beheld Damayanti and her maids. It was as if he saw an early morning sky peopled with radiant clouds and governed by the crescent moon. Against a background of rose-buds sat an hundred virgins, clad in white, airy and graceful; and in their midst was Damayanti, the Moon of Beauty. Her eyes were as soft as lotus blooms, her waist as slender as the stalk of the young bamboo, and the waves of her black hair were sown with pearls.

The heart of the Rajah leaped within him, like a stag pursued by the hunters; but he remembered his promise to the gods, and prepared to plead their cause.

The handmaids of Damayanti sprang from their seats, amazed at his beauty and strength; but none dared to accost him before the princess. Damayanti

shared their amazement and was silent, till she remembered that she was the daughter of a king; then, her royalty lending her speech, she thus addressed the Rajah.

"Who art thou so beautiful and strong, and how hast thou entered our palace? The wardens of the king are watchful; his mandates are stern."

"I am Nala," answered the enamored but faithful Rajah; "Nala the messenger of the gods.

'Indra, Agni, Varun, Yama, each to seek thy hand will come;

One of these celestial beings, choose, O virgin, for thy lord!'"

"I hear your words, Rajah, but I cannot obey them. No god shall be my husband. I am content to love a man. Thou art the man, O Nala! Before I saw thee I was enamored, the swans sang thy praise so sweetly; and now that I see thee I cannot but give thee my heart. Wilt thou not give me thine in return ?"

When the princess began she smiled, and her eye beamed in the Rajah's face like a star; but as the river of her thought deepened, her eye dropped to his feet, and the smile vanished, leaving a blush to reign in its stead.

Nala was delighted to know himself beloved; but his promise to Indra haunted him; so he pressed his hand on his rebellious heart, and persisted in his errand.

"But what is a man to the gods? Compared to the gods men are as dust: displeasing them, they hasten to death. Who is she that would not wed Agni, who compressed the world in his fiery hand? Or Yama, the King of Justice, of whom the world stands in awe? Or Indra, the Sovereign of the Gods?"

"I am she," said Damayanti; “I worship the gods as gods, I cannot love them as men. I will choose a man, and a man only for my husband. Thou art the man, O Nala."

The soul of the Rajah fluttered like a loori who sees its mate through the wires of a cage. "I have delivered my message," he murmured, kneeling at her feet; "I have plead for others; hereafter I shall plead for myself. Till then weigh me in thy thought."

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The blush came back to her cheek, and after the blush the smile. "Come to my betrothal with the gods, dear Nala, and I will choose thee for my husband."

She plucked a rose-bud, and handed it to the Rajah. He pressed it to his lips, and wishing himself back to the gods stood in their presence.

"Have you seen Damayanti, and delivered our message? And what says the maid?"

"I have seen her," answered the Rajah, lifting himself to his full hight, like a man ennobled by a heavenly thought; "I have seen the beautiful maiden, and faithfully plead your cause. She rejects your suit, O gods, and chooses a mortal for her husband: even me, your unworthy messenger."

"She may change her mind before the day of her betrothal," replied Indra.

"I hope not," muttered Nala. And the swans at that moment flying past him, he charged them to sing his praises

anew.

The day of the full moon came, and Bhima summoned the Rajahs to the betrothal of his daughter. In loving haste they thronged the hall of state. It was splendid with columns of gold, and a triumphal arch of pearl. Fragrant were the garlands over their profuse locks, and rich their pendent ear gems. Some were swarthy and vigorous, with arms like battle maces, others were as lithe and delicate as the fiveheaded serpents.

They seated themselves upon the thrones, a door was flung open, and Damayanti appeared. She was dressed

royally, as became the daughter of a king. Her silken vest glittered with golden spangles, her wrists were loaded with bracelets, and bells of silver hung at her ancles and tinkled as she walked. Her steps were lighter than the steps of a gazelle when it picks its way among flowers.

She glided before the kings like a cloud, looking among their number for her betrothed. She found him leaning against a column. And yet she found him not. There were five Rajahs before her instead of one, five Nalas, alike in form and garb. The four gods had assumed the shape of their messenger to perplex the princess in her choice. She scanned them again and again, but could not discern Nala from his counterfeits.

"How shall I know my betrothed ?” she said to herself. And something whispered-" Pray, and the gods will help you." She folded her hands on

her bosom, and bowed her head, and prayed:

THE PRAYER.

"When I heard the song of the swans I said- The lord of Nishadha shall be my husband.' By this truth reveal him to me, ye loving gods."

"I have not swerved from him in word, or thought. By this truth reveal him to me, ye faithful gods."

"I have pledged him my vow, and it must be holily maintained. By this truth reveal

him to me, ye holy gods."

"I will die rather than take another for my husband. By this truth reveal him to me, ye pitying gods."

The prayer of the woman prevailed. The gods assumed their own immortal shapes, and Nala was revealed to his beloved. He stood in the shadow of the column with a drooping garland, while the four gods, Indra, Agni, Varun, Yama, hovered in the air crowned with stars. Unlike Nala, they cast no shadow!

She gazed a moment in their divine eyes, her face bathed with thankful tears, and turning to the Rajah she lifted the hem of his garment and threw a zone of flowers over his shoulder. "I take Nala for my husband!"

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You have done well," said the gods: but the kings said nothing for sighing. The king of Nishadha stepped from the shadow, and clasped the hand of his beloved.

"Since you take me for your husband, fair Damayanti, know me your faithful lord; as long as my soul dwells in my body-so long am I thine!"

"Be happy!" said the gods, and each gave Nala a double blessing. Indra a firm gait in the sacrifice, and the faculty of seeing the godhead. Agni the stars at noonday, and the boon of fire whenever he wished it. Yama eminence in virtue, and a subtle taste in food. And Varun the power of making water come at his call, and flowers of matchless fragrance.

Thus Nala won Damayanti.

THE BOOK OF THE LOADED DICE.

Let no man think to live without enemies, although he be as pure as the gods. There are always black hearts in the world, and they delight to throw dust on the robes of the good and wise. But the wise and good often fall by their own weakness. If the gods are always waiting to help those who perform their duties, the demons are also waiting to haunt those who neglect