Legendary and Romantic Tales of Indian History

In the forests of Candahar, a solitary traveller was pursuing his way. Overcome by the heat of noon he sat down on the margin of a small stream that gurgled through the thick underwood, allowing his horse to crop the fresh herbage upon its banks. The scene around him was gloomy but imposing. So thick was the growth of the jungle that the sun’s rays could not penetrate, except here and there, where patches had been cleared by the charcoal-burners or for purposes of fuel; and these were comparatively few. Some of the trees were of a growth so stupendous as to impart a character of sublimity to the whole aspect of the forest. Many of them reached the prodigious height of a hundred and thirty feet, presenting a straight branchless stem, which rose like a colossal pillar from the ground to the altitude of twenty yards without a single branch or even a sprout upon its surface. Under the vast leafy canopy which spread out above it, the wild elephant frequently reposed, and seemed, by comparison with the stately growth beside which it rested, but as some ordinary animal. It is far from the haunts of men, amid the deep recesses of the forest, or on the summit of the distant mountain, that nature is seen to develop the noblest features of her beauty. The stillness that reigns around, the solemn repose of the scene, not broken in upon by human associations, nor interrupted by the voice of human intercourse, enhance the impression of grandeur produced by the sight of objects which cannot fail to elevate the soul to pious adoration of the great and illimitable God of the universe. The stranger was impressed by the somewhat painful novelty of his situation, and solemn thoughts were awakened in his heart. He sat calmly gazing upon the brook as it bubbled before him, when his attention was suddenly roused by a crashing of the bushes, immediately accompanied by a loud roar, and in another moment his horse was prostrated by the paw of a huge lion. The traveller started from his seat, drew his sword, and coming behind the ferocious visitor, cut the sinews of its hind leg, and before the animal could turn, repeated the stroke on the other, and thus completely disabled it. The savage instantly relinquished its prey, but so tremendous had been the stroke of its paw and the succeeding laceration so extensive, that the poor horse rolled upon the streamlet’s bank in the agonies of death. The lion roared with appalling fury—its eyes glared—its mane bristled—but it was unable to resent the injury it had received. It dragged itself forward upon its fore-legs with a vain endeavour to retaliate. Its vanquisher approached fearlessly, struck it across the skull with his sword, and, repeating the stroke, laid it dead at his feet. The loss of his steed was an untoward event, and as he would now have to make his way through the forest on foot,—as, moreover, the sun had long passed its meridian, he determined to pursue his journey without further delay. Strapping to his shoulders a kind of wallet which had been fastened to his saddle, he commenced threading the thicket. His journey was long and arduous, but on emerging into an open space, he saw a doe grazing with her fawn. The latter had just been born, and the traveller coming suddenly upon them, secured the little one, while the affrighted dam fled in terror. Pleased with his capture, he bound the fawn’s legs, and placing it under his arm, proceeded on his way.