When the powerful Nawab Mirzá Khán-i Khánán had made him­self master of Tatta, he summoned to his presence the great men of the country, and amongst others selected the most noble of them, Mirzá Jání Beg Tarkhán, 'Áriz of the Tarkhanía, to be presented at tbe court of his majesty, and he proceeded thither with a party of Sindí friends. At an interview the conversation happened to turn upon Márúí, which induced the Emperor to enquire of Jání Beg the particulars of this story. The latter replied that he had with him a poet named Mukím, conversant with both Persian and Sindí, who was well acquainted with the whole story, and whom he would send for if permitted to do so. Mirzá Jání Beg himself was per­fectly informed of all the circumstances, but he wished to bring the poet to the notice of his majesty. The bard was introduced, but he knew so little of the case, that, contrary to the fact, he said the heroine had a child by that tyrant, misnamed 'Umar.* His Highness was much displeased at this misrepresentation, and the bard with­drew crestfallen. Jání Beg then related the story correctly, and some of the auditors repeated verses in the Sindí language in praise of the Márúí. The late Mír Saiyid Ma'súm Bhakkarí, of blessed memory, has recorded in verse the story of Sassaí and Pannú and called his work “Husn o Náz,” (beauty and coquetry); Mír Abú-l Kásim, (son of Sháh Abú-l Kásim, son of Sháh Kásim Arghún) has likewise versi­fied the story of Chanesar and Lílá and called it “Chanesar;”* I also have written (these legends) in prose and named my work “Náz o Niyáz” (coquetry and supplication). May men of genius view it favourably!*

History of Gangá and 'Umar Súmra.

I write for the information of men of enlightened minds,—friends to literature, and delighting in the sweets of learning. A maiden named Gangá, of the tribe of Tamím, had been betrothed to 'Umar. The latter happened to see her at a time when the spring of youth had not filled the cup of her beauty, and the unopened bud of her cheeks was as yet without fragrance. She did not please him, and his heart was averse to her, so he relinquished all thought of making her his wife, and gave permission that she should be united to any one they chose. 'Umar Tamím, a relative of the girl's, and a com­panion of 'Umar Súmra, without whom the latter never drank (or eat), became her husband. After a few years, this unopened bud, fanned by the zephyr of youth, became a very stem of blooming roses. She imported such fragrance to the breeze, that fascination penetrated the core of every heart.

One day, when the washerman had put out her clothes to dry near the road, the chief happened to pass by the scented garments. Such perfume hung in the breeze that for miles it entered the brains of the wayfarers. The scent of the musk caused blood to flow from his nostrils, and he wondered whose garments these could be. He enquired of the washerman, and ascertained, after a good deal of trouble, as the man had been ordered not to mention the owner's name, that they belonged to a certain woman married to 'Umar Tamím, and whom his highness had formerly rejected. Longing and regret now took possession of his soul, and so great was his fascination that he proceeded to the woman's house, intending, if the master should not be within, to delight his eyes and heart with a glimpse of that heart-enthralling creature. The husband was not at home. Deceivers employ many stratagems, so 'Umar found nothing better than to pretend that he had discharged an arrow at some pigeons, and only entered the house to pick one up. The fair lady, who knew nothing of all this, being suddenly disturbed, rose to screen herself from view, and enquired what the intruder sought, but the latter obtained what he had come for and departed. A dart of love from the bow of her eyebrows had pierced his heart and he writhed like a wounded snake. The love which had sud­denly been implanted in the innermost recesses of his heart dis­turbed him so much that he threw himself madly on his couch, abandoned food, drink, and sleep, and spoke to no one. His ministers were much astonished at this conduct, but having learned the cause of it, they respectfully informed him that the difficulty could very easily be overcome; that he should be of good cheer and not grieve. The ministers agreed that it was necessary, by some means, to sepa­rate the woman from her husband, and bring her to their master's palace. To further this scheme, it was settled by these godless men that 'Umar should make a show of more than usual cordiality and affection to that young man. The husband was astonished at these unwonted demonstrations, and one day asked his confidential friends what could be the object of them. Being all in the plot, they answered that a wish seemed to have entered the chieftain's mind to give him his sister in marriage, and by this connection, bind him more closely to himself in the bonds of fraternity and love, for he was highly pleased with his services, and placed great reliance on him. 'Umar Tamím heedlessly believed this falsehood; he was transported with delight by these tidings, which ought to have saddened him, and he expanded like a rose, so that his robe could scarcely contain him. The simpleton dreamed not that his friends were foully conspiring to deprive him of his wife. One day the friends met. Wine, that source of so much evil, was administered in such quantities to the unhappy husband, who had not strength to bear it, that he quite lost all mastery over himself. The associates perceived that they would never find an opportunity more favourable for the execution of their designs, so in furtherance of their scheme, they spoke to this foolish and helpless being of that impossible marriage. At length, he agreed that he would divorce his present wife, in order to obtain that higher object of his wishes; and he did so. The plotters having so far succeeded, now told him that this divorce alone was not suffi­cient, that he must offer the woman as tribute to 'Umar. The drunkard hesitated not to give away his cast-off wife. Then, as a finish to the business, he himself was turned out of the assembly, and his wife conveyed to the house of him who had instigated this vile proceeding. On the morrow, when the husband shook off the sleep of intoxication, he thought of his spouse, and remembered the sad events of the past day. Then, uttering cries of grief, he rent his garments, and proceeded to Dehli to lay a complaint before 'Aláu-d dín Sultán.

The people of this country relate, that when the husband laid his complaint before the Sultán, this guardian of justice sent that very night an order to 'Umar to appear before him, stating that if he came and satisfied the complainant, he might escape punishment, other­wise, an avenging force should be sent to plunder and overrun the country, and his wives and children should fall a prey to the soldiery. 'Umar prepared to depart the moment the messenger arrived. After a journey of some days, he reached the royal pre­sence, and made numerous offerings. When the complainant and defendant were confronted, the Sultán's anger rose to such a pitch that he caused the guilty man to be thrown into a prison to end his days, in order that his fate might be a salutary warning to all wicked doers. For a long time he suffered in prison, but at length obtained his liberty through the intercession of his friends, on the payment of a heavy fine, and by binding himself to pay an annual tribute. He now returned to Sind, and from that time the rulers of this country have been tributary to the kings of Hind. 'Umar soon forgot his imprisonment and sufferings, and stretched forth the hand of tyranny over the people of Samma, the ancient tenants of the soil. Many families were driven by his exactions to abandon the land of their birth and seek refuge in Kach,* which lies between Guzerát and Sind, and this land by God's mercy they have occupied to the present day.