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HERE was once a certain weaver with two wives, each of whom was blessed with a daughter. The names of the daughters were Shookhu and Dukhu. Shookhu with her mother, the elder wife, passed her time in idle amusements, while Dukhu and her mother did all the duties of the house. In course of time the weaver died, and his elder wife, appropriating to herself the property he left, Dukhu and her mother were obliged to shift for themselves. For their livelihood they spun cotton thread, and made coarse cloths of it, selling them in the bazar. One day Dukhu's mother went out, leaving some cotton to dry in the sun under the care of her daughter. A gust of wind suddenly dispersed the cotton on all sides, and the poor girl distractedly ran after the pieces flying in the air. Even the wind took pity on her and said, "Dukhu, don't cry, come after me." The girl did as she was told and eventually reached the door of a cowshed and was asked by its inmate to give her some food. Cows are regarded by Hindus as incarnations of their chief goddess (Durga), and Dukhu gladly did the service asked of her. She then resumed her journey after the wind, and on her way was requested by a plantain tree to relieve it of its overgrown boughs and the creepers round it. Again she did as she was desired, but no sooner had she followed the wind a little further than a horse wanted her to give it some food. She attended to it, and after a little while reached a