In a certain town in the world were four Brahmans who lived as the best of friends. And being stricken with utter poverty, they took counsel together: “A curse, a curse on this business of being poor! For

The well-served master hates him still;

His loving kinsmen with a will

Abandon him; woes multiply,

While friends and even children fly;

His high-born wife grows cool: the flash

Of virtue dims; brave efforts crash —

For him who has no ready cash.

And again:

Charm, courage, eloquence, good looks,

And thorough mastery of books

(If money does not back the same)

Are useless in the social game.

“Better be dead than penniless. As the story goes:

A beggar to the graveyard hied

And there ‘.Friend corpse, arise,’ he cried;

‘One moment lift my heavy weight

Of poverty; for I of late

Grow weary, and desire instead

Your comfort: you are good and dead.’

The corpse was silent. He was sure

‘Twas better to be dead than poor.

“So let us at any cost’ strive to make money. For the saying goes:

Money gets you anything,

Gets it in a flash:

Therefore let the prudent get

Cash, cash, cash.

“Now this cash comes to men in six ways. They are: (1) begging for charity, (2) flunkeyism at a court, (3) farmwork, (4) the learned professions, (5) usury, (6) trade.

“However, among all these methods of making money, trade is the only one without a hitch in it. For

Kings’ favor is a thing unstable;

Crows peck at winnings charitable;

You make, in learning the professions,

Too many wearisome concessions

To teachers; farms are too much labor;

In usury you lend your neighbor

The cash which is your life, and therefore

You really live a poor man. Wherefore

I see in trade the only living

That can be truly pleasure-giving,

Hurrah for trade!

“Now profitable trade has seven branches. They are: (1) false weights and balances, (2) price-boosting, (3) keeping a pawnshop, (4) getting regular customers, (5) a stock company, (6) articles-de luxe such as perfumes, (7) foreign trade.

“Now the economists say:

False weights and boosting prices to

An overshameless sum

And constant cheating of one’s friends

Are fit for social scum.

And again:

Deposits in the house compel

The pawnshop man to pray;

If you will kill the owner, Lord,

I’ll give you what you say.

Likewise:

The holder of a stock reflects

With glee, though one of many:

The wide world’s wealth belongs to me;

No other gets a penny.

Furthermore:

Perfumery is first-class ware:

Why deal in gold and such?

Whate’er the cost, you sell it for

A thousand times as much.

“Foreign trade is the affair of the capitalist. As the book says:

Wild elephants are caught by tame:

So money-kings, devising

A trap for money, capture it

With far-flung advertising.

The brisk commercial traveler,

Who knows the selling game,

Invests his money, and returns

With twice or thrice the same.

And again:

The crow, or good-for-naught, or deer,

Afraid of foreign lands,

In heedless slothfulness is sure

To perish where he stands.”

Having thus set their minds in order, and resolved on foreign travel, they said farewell to home and friends, and started, all four of them. Well, there is wisdom in the saying:

The man whose mind is money mad,

From all his kinsmen flees;

He hastens from his mother dear;

He breaks his promises;

He even goes to foreign lands

Which he would not elect

And leaves his native country. Well,

What else do you expect?

So in time they came to the Avanti country, where they bathed in the waters of the Sipra, and adored the great god Shiva. As they traveled farther, they met a master-magician named Terror-Joy. And having greeted him in proper Brahman fashion, they all accompanied him to his monastery cell. There the magician asked them whence they came, whither they were going, and what was their object. And they replied: “We are pilgrims, seeking magic power. We have resolved to go where we shall find enough money, or death. For the proverb says:

While water is given

By fate out of heaven,

If men dig a well,

It bubbles from hell,

Man’s effort (sufficiently great)

Can equal the wonders of fate.

And again:

Success complete

In any feat

Is sure to bless

True manliness,

Man’s effort (sufficiently great)

Is just what a dullard calls fate.

There is no toy

Called easy joy,

But man must strain

To body’s pain.

Even Vishnu embraces his bride

With arms that the churn-stick has tried.

“So disclose to us some method of getting money, whether crawling into a hole, or placating a witch, or living in a graveyard, or selling human flesh, or anything. You are said to have miraculous magic, while we have boundless daring. You know the saying:

Only the great can aid the great

To win their heart’s desire:

Apart from ocean, who could bear

The fierce subaqueous fire?”

So the magician, perceiving their fitness as disciples, made four magic quills, and gave one to each, saying: “Go to the northern slope of the Himalaya Mountains. And wherever a quill drops, there the owner will certainly find a treasure.”

Now as they followed his directions, the leader’s quill dropped. And on examining the spot, he found the soil all copper. So he said: “Look here! Take all the copper you want.” But the others said: “Fool! What is the good of a thing, which even in quantity, does not put an end to poverty? Stand up. Let us go on.” And he replied: “You may go. I will accompany you no farther.” So he took his copper and was the first to turn back.

The three others went farther. But they had traveled only a little way when the leader’s quill dropped. And when he dug down, he found the soil all silver. At this he was delighted, and cried: “Look! Take all the silver you want. No need of