We were traveling at the time and stopped at a little city in India and looked on while a juggler did his tricks before a group of natives.  They were wonderful, but I knew Satan could beat that game, and I begged him to show off a little, and he said he would.  He changed himself into a native in turban and breech-cloth, and very considerately conferred on me a temporary knowledge of the language.

The juggler exhibited a seed, covered it with earth in a small flower-pot, then put a rag over the pot; after a minute the rag began to rise; in ten minutes it had risen a foot; then the rag was removed and a little tree was exposed, with leaves upon it and ripe fruit.  We ate the fruit, and it was good.  But Satan said: 

“Why do you cover the pot?  Can’t you grow the tree in the sunlight?”

“No,” said the juggler; “no one can do that.”

“You are only an apprentice; you don’t know your trade.  Give me the seed.  I will show you.”  He took the seed and said, “What shall I raise from it?”

“It is a cherry seed; of course you will raise a cherry.”

“Oh no; that is a trifle; any novice can do that.  Shall I raise an orange-tree from it?”

“Oh yes!” and the juggler laughed.

“And shall I make it bear other fruits as well as oranges?”

“If God wills!” and they all laughed.

Satan put the seed in the ground, put a handful of dust on it, and said, “Rise!”

A tiny stem shot up and began to grow, and grew so fast that in five minutes it was a great tree, and we were sitting in the shade of it.  There was a murmur of wonder, then all looked up and saw a strange and pretty sight, for the branches were heavy with fruits of many kinds and colors—­oranges, grapes, bananas, peaches, cherries, apricots, and so on.  Baskets were brought, and the unlading of the tree began; and the people crowded around Satan and kissed his hand, and praised him, calling him the prince of jugglers.  The news went about the town, and everybody came running to see the wonder—­and they remembered to bring baskets, too.  But the tree was equal to the occasion; it put out new fruits as fast as any were removed; baskets were filled by the score and by the hundred, but always the supply remained undiminished.  At last a foreigner in white linen and sun-helmet arrived, and exclaimed, angrily: 

“Away from here!  Clear out, you dogs; the tree is on my lands and is my property.”

The natives put down their baskets and made humble obeisance.  Satan made humble obeisance, too, with his fingers to his forehead, in the native way, and said: 

“Please let them have their pleasure for an hour, sir—­only that, and no longer.  Afterward you may forbid them; and you will still have more fruit than you and the state together can consume in a year.”

This made the foreigner very angry, and he cried out, “Who are you, you vagabond, to tell your betters what they may do and what they mayn’t!” and he struck Satan with his cane and followed this error with a kick.