The Farmer and the Money-lender

There was once a farmer who suffered much at the hands of a

money-lender. Good harvests, or bad, the farmer was always poor, the

moneylender rich. At last, when he hadn't a farthing left, the farmer

went to the moneylender's house, and said, 'You can't squeeze water

from a stone, and as you have nothing to get by me now, you might tell

me the secret of becoming rich.'

'My friend,' returned the money-lender piously, 'riches come from

Ram--ask _him_.'

'Thank you, I will!' replied the simple farmer; so he prepared three

girdle-cakes to last him on the journey, and set out to find Ram.

First he met a Brâhman, and to him he gave a cake, asking him to point

out the road to Ram; but the Brâhman only took the cake and went on

his way without a word. Next the farmer met a Jôgi or devotee, and to

him he gave a cake, without receiving any help in return. At last, he

came upon a poor man sitting under a tree, and finding out he was

hungry, the kindly farmer gave him his last cake, and sitting down to

rest beside him, entered into conversation.

'And where are you going?' asked the poor man at length.

'Oh, I have a long journey before me, for I am going to find Ram!'

replied the farmer. 'I don't suppose you could tell me which way to

go?'

'Perhaps I can,' said the poor man, smiling, 'for _I_ am Ram!

What do you want of me?'

Then the farmer told the whole story, and Ram, taking pity on him,

gave him a conch shell, and showed him how to blow it in a particular

way, saying, 'Remember! whatever you wish for, you have only to blow

the conch that way, and your wish will be fulfilled. Only have a care

of that money-lender, for even magic is not proof against their

wiles!'

The farmer went back to his village rejoicing. In fact the

money-lender noticed his high spirits at once, and said to himself,

'Some good fortune must have befallen the stupid fellow, to make him

hold his head so jauntily.' Therefore he went over to the simple

farmer's house, and congratulated him on his good fortune, in such

cunning words, pretending to have heard all about it, that before long

the farmer found himself telling the whole story--all except the

secret of blowing the conch, for, with all his simplicity, the farmer

was not quite such a fool as to tell that.

Nevertheless, the money-lender determined to have the conch by hook or

by crook, and as he was villain enough not to stick at trifles, he

waited for a favourable opportunity and stole it.

But, after nearly bursting himself with blowing the thing in every

conceivable way, he was obliged to give up the secret as a bad job.

However, being determined to succeed, he went back to the farmer, and

said, 'Now, my friend! I've got your conch, but I can't use it; you

haven't got it, so it's clear you can't use it either. The matter is

at a standstill unless we make a bargain. Now, I promise to give you

back your conch, and never to interfere with your using it, on one

condition, which is this,--whatever you get from it, I am to get

double.'

'Never!' cried the farmer; 'that would be the old business all over

again!'

'Not at all!' replied the wily money-lender; 'you will have your

share! Now, don't be a dog in the manger, for if _you_ get all

you want, what can it matter to you if _I_ am rich or poor?'

At last, though it went sorely against the grain to be of any benefit

to a money-lender, the farmer was forced to yield, and from that time,

no matter what he gained by the power of the conch, the money-lender

gained double. And the knowledge that this was so preyed upon the

farmer's mind day and night, until he had no satisfaction out of

anything he did get.

At last there came a very dry season,--so dry that the farmer's crops

withered for want of rain. Then he blew his conch, and wished for a

well to water them, and, lo! there was the well. _But the

money-lender had two!_--two beautiful new wells! This was too much

for any farmer to stand; and our friend brooded over it, and brooded

over it, till at last a bright idea came into his head. He seized the

conch, blew it loudly, and cried out, 'O Ram, I wish to be blind of

one eye!' And so he was, in a twinkling, but the money-lender, of

course, was blind of both eyes, and in trying to steer his way between

the two new wells, he fell into one and was drowned.

Now this true story shows that a farmer once got the better of a

money-lender; but only by losing one of his eyes!