The Mirror and the Bracelet

HEAR ye the story of the adventures and misfortunes of Bandhu. O Hindu reader! Perhaps you will find that he is one well-known unto you.

The mother of Bandhu went on a pilgrimage, and took her son with her. He was then seven years of age. The pilgrimage was a long one, the woman was poor; the flour which she carried with her was little for one, and quite insufficient for two.

Bandhu fell grievously sick; sores spread over his body; he had no strength to walk. His mother lifted him up, and carried him a short distance; but she was tired, hungry, and sad, and soon laid him down on the ground. Bandhu grew worse and worse; he moaned aloud in his pain; then his senses left him, and he lay on the earth as one dead.

The mother wailed aloud and cried, "What an unlucky day is this! What wretch's face did I happen to see early this morning? Hae! Hae! What shall I do? If I stay here, I shall perish with hunger, or some wild beast will devour me! The boy is dying; I cannot save him; why should I perish with him?"

So the mother of Bandhu did what many who go on long pilgrimages are constrained to do, she left the one who was dearest to her upon earth to die alone! Bandhu, happily for him, knew not that his mother was departing. He saw not her form disappearing behind the tall bamboos; he heard not the sound of her wailing. He lay quite alone, sick and senseless, a poor helpless object, from which a stranger might have turned in disgust.