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Transcriber's Note:


  Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in
    the original.

  A few typographical errors have been corrected. A complete list
    follows the text.

  Words italicized in the original are surrounded by _underscores_.

  Words with bold emphasis in the original are surrounded by =equals
    signs=.




             STORIES FROM TAGORE


               [Illustration]

            THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

      NEW YORK A. BOSTON A. CHICAGO A. DALLAS
           ATLANTA A. SAN FRANCISCO

           MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED

          LONDON A. BOMBAY A. CALCUTTA
                 MELBOURNE

        THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.

                  TORONTO




              Stories from Tagore


                   New York
             The Macmillan Company
                     1918

             _All rights reserved_


            Copyright 1916 and 1918
            BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

  Set up and electrotyped. Published, October, 1918




PREFACE


Every experienced teacher must have noticed the difficulty of
instructing Indian children out of books that are specially intended for
use in English schools. It is not merely that the subjects are
unfamiliar, but almost every phrase has English associations that are
strange to Indian ears. The environment in which they are written is
unknown to the Indian school boy and his mind becomes overburdened with
its details which he fails to understand. He cannot give his whole
attention to the language and thus master it quickly.

The present Indian story-book avoids some at least of these impediments.
The surroundings described in it are those of the students' everyday
life; the sentiments and characters are familiar. The stories are simply
told, and the notes at the end will be sufficient to explain obscure
passages. It should be possible for the Indian student to follow the
pages of the book easily and intelligently. Those students who have read
the stories in the original will have the further advantage of knowing
beforehand the whole trend of the narrative and thus they will be able
to concentrate their thoughts on the English language itself.

It is proposed to publish together in a single volume the original
stories whose English translations are given in this Reader. Versions of
the same stories in the different Indian vernaculars have already
appeared, and others are likely to follow.

Two of the longest stories in this book--"Master Mashai" and "The Son of
Rashmani"--are reproduced in English for the first time. The rest of the
stories have been taken, with slight revision, from two English volumes
entitled "The Hungry Stones" and "Mashi." A short paragraph has been
added from the original Bengali at the end of the story called "The
Postmaster." This was unfortunately omitted in the first English
edition.

The list of words to be studied has been chosen from each story in order
to bring to notice different types of English words. The lists are in no
sense exhaustive. The end in view has been to endeavour to create an
interest in Indian words and their history, which may lead on to further
study.




CONTENTS


                                       PAGE

  THE CABULIWALLAH                       3

  THE HOME-COMING                       21

  ONCE THERE WAS A KING                 35

  THE CHILD'S RETURN                    51

  MASTER MASHAI                         69

  SUBHA                                101

  THE POSTMASTER                       115

  THE CASTAWAY                         129

  THE SON OF RASHMANI                  151

  THE BABUS OF NAYANJORE               203

  NOTES                                223




THE CABULIWALLAH




STORIES FROM TAGORE




I

THE CABULIWALLAH


My five years' old daughter Mini cannot live without chattering. I
really believe that in all her life she has not wasted a minute in
silence. Her mother is often vexed at this, and would stop her prattle,
but I would not. To see Mini quiet is unnatural, and I cannot bear it
long. And so my own talk with her is always lively.

One morning, for instance, when I was in the midst of the seventeenth
chapter of my new novel, my little Mini stole into the room, and putting
her hand into mine, said: "Father! Ramdayal the door-keeper calls a crow