HISTORY OF NASSAR, THE SON OF KHOJA HUMAYUN, THE MERCHANT OF BAGHDAD.

During the reign of the Abbaside Khalífs there lived in the city of Baghdád a merchant called Khoja[8] Humáyún, who was very rich, highly respected, and prosperous in all his dealings. The caravan of his good fortune had for a long time travelled in the lands of success; the hand of detriment was never extended towards the skirts of his wealth; nor did the simúm of loss and misfortune ever blow in the gardens of his prosperity; so that he passed all his days in the cradle of happiness and content. One day he happened to repose in a retired part of his mansion on the couch of gladness, when he beheld suddenly two kites overhead contending for something. After the Khoja had been looking at them for some time, he perceived that from the claws of one something was hanging which the other wanted to snatch away. Whilst he was wondering the object fell to the ground, and on examining it he found it to be a small bundle which contained three rubies, a diamond, and four pearls, all of unequalled beauty and price. The Khoja was at first highly pleased at this occurrence, and joyfully considered it as an additional sign of his good fortune, and recited this distich:

But, as he was a man of great discernment and experience, he looked at this affair in another light, on second thoughts, and considered it as a mystery, which made him uneasy. He had a grown and intelligent son, called Nassar, whom he privately addressed thus: “My beloved son, it is well-nigh eighty years since I began to navigate the ocean of life in the skiff of prosperity, and it has never deserted me, nor have the autumnal blasts of reverse ever withered the freshness of my affluence. But as the splendour of every morn of happiness is followed by the darkness and night of decrease and misfortune, and the leaves of the rosy volume of comfort are scattered by the whirlwind of distress; and as

I conclude from this incident that as the humái[9] of my good success has reached the zenith, the caravan of my prosperity will soon deflect from the path of my destiny: the ship of my happiness may become wrecked in the ocean of adversity; and, for all I know, the treasure I possess may become a prey to the whale of reverse, poverty and misery. This anticipation may be realised very soon, but as I have spent a life of happiness and content, and have gratified all the desires of a man, I wish for nothing more; therefore, if misfortune beset me, I trust I shall be able patiently to endure its bitterness. But since you have not seen the ups and downs of life, or experienced any reverse, I do not think it fitting that you should continue to live with me, and it is in conformity with the dictates of prudence that you spend some time in travelling; for wise men have said that travel is a polish which rubs off the rust of carelessness from the speculum of a man’s mind and a sovereign cure for inexperience:

In Shíráz, the seat of learning,” continued the Khoja, “I have a friend named Khayrandísh, who was my companion in several journeys, and to whom I have done some good. You must go to him and say: ‘I wish you to surrender to me the deposit my father entrusted you with when you were companions on the road of Bahrayn.’ After receiving that article from Khayrandísh, take prudence and caution for your guide and go to the Maghrabí country,[11] because there is much chance of acquiring worldly goods there, and no one ever returned from it empty-handed. Consider that precious object as a means to procure you a livelihood, for by presenting it to one of the kings or grandees of those parts it will soon ensure you attention; and I for my part shall make over all I possess to my relatives and friends, and shall devote myself solely to the worship of God.”

Nassar made his preparations and departed for Shíráz, the seat of learning; but he had scarcely proceeded two stages in that direction when a eunuch in the Khalíf’s service, intending to abscond, had at midnight absented himself from the royal haram with a casket of jewels which he had abstracted. He walked with great apprehension through the streets in search of the dwelling of his accomplice, whence he intended to proceed farther at the break of day; but as the night was very dark he missed the house, and, by the decree of Fate, entered the mansion of Khoja Humáyún, which happened to be open. On looking round he soon discovered his mistake, so he wandered about the house trying to find his way out, but the Khoja’s slaves having in the meantime locked the entrance as usual, he had no alternative but to conceal himself in a corner and there remain till morning.

But the Khalíf’s treasurer soon discovered that the eunuch had decamped with the casket, and caused proclamation to be made, that any person harbouring the culprit should at once hand him over to the police, failing which his property should be confiscated. The royal officials made fruitless search all night, but at break of day, when the eunuch of night had retired and the prince of morn established himself in the palace of the horizon, one of the attendants of the court, who was a mortal enemy of Khoja Humáyún, passing his house, perceived the eunuch and took him before the Khalíf; and, considering this a good opportunity of avenging himself on his foe, he said: “Khoja Humáyún, who trusted in his wealth and dignity, has committed this crime by instigating the eunuch to the deed and afterwards secreting him in his house.” The Khalíf well knew the Khoja’s loyalty and honesty, had often bestowed favours upon him, and was aware that such an act was not at all consistent with his disposition; but as the sun of prosperity, in consequence of the celestial rotations, had deflected from him and set in the west of misfortune;[12] and the night of distress was intent on obscuring the precincts of his comfort and destroying the volume of his happiness with the scissors of extinction; and as the stratagems of enemies have results like the bites of snakes and scorpions, the insidious words of the adversary so inflamed the Khalíf’s wrath that he ordered Khoja Humáyún’s property to be confiscated, his house razed, and himself expelled from the city without giving him the least opportunity of uttering a word in his own defence.

On the same day when the simúm of this catastrophe destroyed Khoja Humáyún’s rose-garden of prosperity, Nassar’s courser of safety also met with an accident on his journey. In the vicinity of Shíráz a party of robbers fell upon him and deprived him of everything he possessed; and, exchanging the robes of affluence and wealth for poverty and nudity, he arrived in the city in great distress, and having found the dwelling of Khayrandísh, he made him acquainted with his father’s injunction. Khayrandísh received him in the most friendly manner possible, and said: “Dear youth, I am entirely at your service, and was desirous to be honoured by a message from your father, whose casket with his seal upon it is in my charge. But the laws of hospitality require that a guest who adorns my poor hut with the light of his presence should abide with me during three days, in order that I may entertain him to the best of my ability;[13] and this applies especially to you, whose presence I consider as a great blessing. After the expiration of three days I shall deliver the deposit into your hands.” To this proposal Nassar agreed, and Khayrandísh rejoiced him with his amity, and provided him with a very handsome wardrobe.

When the golden lamp of the glorious sun entered the lantern of the west, and the amber-haired belle of evening removed the veil from her face, Khayrandísh placed the best food and drink on the table of intimacy, and after conversing on various subjects with his guest, he spoke to him as follows: “Friend, it appears that worldly prosperity has left Khoja Humáyún, and that he has sent you in pursuit of it; for I have lately had a fearful dream and was very uneasy about his circumstances. So tell me now what you intend to do with the deposit.” Nassar acquainted him with his intention to go to the Maghrabí country, and with the injunctions of his father. Khayrandísh replied: “As the travellers in the path of rectitude and probity ought to guide those who wander in the desert of error and inexperience, and as I am under great obligations to your father, I consider it my duty to be useful to you. Since you have never before been from home and have spent all your days in affluence, I fear you will not be able to perform the journey satisfactorily:

But as divine grace is the escort of all who intend to journey in the path of trust in God, I leave you to the guardianship of divine mercy to protect you from all dangers. I shall, however, give you three counsels, and hope you will profit by them.” Nassar rejoined: “It is the first duty of young men to listen to the counsels of intelligent and upright men; therefore speak, for I shall follow them.” Khayrandísh then spake thus:

First Advice.

“Though the deceitful bride of the world may look at you from the corner of her eye, and may try to bias your mind by her coquettish movements, lose not the reins of self-possession from your hands, because worldly prosperity is unsubstantial as the mirage, and the honey of its favour leaves only the bitterness of deception.

When the humái of worldly prosperity spreads its wings over you, covet not its favours, for it will change at last and regret only will remain.

Prosperity is fickle, and when it has turned its back, all efforts to recall it are futile. The favours and frowns of the world are the harbingers of the caravan of prosperity and adversity, for both depend in every individual case from the propitious or unpropitious consequences of the rotation of the stars of the times, and are connected with them like the sun with shadows;[15] nor can they be altered by the foresight of Lukman, or by the wisdom of a thousand Platos. And such efforts may be compared to the vain longings of procuring spring in the depth of winter, or for the light of day at midnight. Thus all the struggles of Shah Manssur were fruitless, and he reaped only sorrow from them.” Nassar asked: “What is the story of Shah Manssur?” Khayrandísh thereupon related the

Story of Shah Manssur.

Once upon a time there was a man called Shah Manssur, from the neighbourhood of Nishapúr, who lived in affluence, but deceitful fortune had spread the chess-board of hypocrisy, had mated and abandoned him in the desert of affliction. After he lost all his property, he sat down in the lap of misery, and finding all his efforts to better his condition fruitless, he set out for India. When he arrived in Kabúl he was equally disappointed, so he went one day into the bazár, hoping to find employment as a porter. There he waited till evening, and every man found occupation excepting himself. He began involuntarily to shed tears, and one of the principal merchants, who was returning home from the palace of the Amír, saw him, and, concluding that he was suffering from some wrong done to him, asked him the cause of his distress. Manssur informed him of his circumstances, upon which the merchant took him to his house, and next morning told him that as he was in need of an attendant he might stay until he could find something more to his advantage. Shah Manssur accordingly entered into the merchant’s service, and gained by his diligence the approbation of his master, but raised the envy of his fellow servants and incurred the ill-will of his mistress. One day he felt somewhat indisposed, and the merchant’s wife sent him some poison as a medicine,[16] but as his distemper was slight he made no use of the remedy, and kept it in his pocket. Now the merchant had a little son whom Shah Manssur was wont to carry about, and who was so much accustomed to him that whenever he cried Manssur only could quiet him. It so happened that this day the child would not cease weeping, and Shah Manssur was obliged to take him into the street, hoping to divert him by looking at the passers-by. Having a little business to despatch, he set the child for a moment against a wall, which unfortunately fell and covered him. Shah Manssur was in despair and made a great outcry, whereupon the merchant came out and asked him why he made such a noise. He told his master of the accident, at which the merchant was disconsolate, and the people flocked from all directions wishing to kill Shah Manssur. Meanwhile the ruins of the wall were removed, and on the child being extricated he was found alive and perfectly uninjured. The father and mother of the child were in an ecstasy of joy at his fortunate escape, and all the people wondered. Shah Manssur fell on his knees and thanked the Most High, and everybody rejoiced. A man in the crowd proposed that a medicine be administered to the child, and Shah Manssur immediately produced from his pocket that sent to him by the merchant’s wife, and handed it to his master, but as soon as the child had swallowed it he fell into convulsions and expired. The child’s parents were in despair, especially the mother, who threatened to commit suicide if Shah Manssur were suffered to live, because, as she said, he had poisoned her son. Hereupon the merchant’s servants tied Manssur to a post, and ill-treated him so much that he fainted, and was abandoned for dead.

In the evening he began to revive and moaned piteously. The merchant was an intelligent man and could hardly believe Shah Manssur to have been so ungrateful as to kill his child deliberately with poison, so he approached the supposed culprit and besought him to speak the truth. Manssur said that as he was deeply grateful for the kindness he had received from his master and greatly attached to the child, the thought of committing such a crime could not have entered his mind; and that he had only given to the child a remedy which had been sent to himself by his mistress when he was slightly indisposed. The merchant at once perceived his wife’s treachery and was convinced of Shah Manssur’s innocence; but nevertheless he told him that he could no longer retain him in his service; so he loosed his bonds and dismissed him. Naked and wounded, as he was, Shah Manssur walked away and took refuge in the outskirts of the city with an old woman, at whose house he used to stay in better times when on his commercial journeys. Having explained to her his case, she received him kindly and set about curing his wounds. This old woman had a son who was carrying on an amorous intrigue with a neighbour’s wife. He happened to be absent on that night at a friend’s house, but his paramour was ignorant of this, and having waited till her husband was asleep she hastened to her lover’s house, which she found in darkness, and mistaking Shah Manssur for him she approached his couch. The wounded man thought it was his old landlady, and began to thank her for her kind solicitude. In the meantime the husband of the adulterous woman had missed her and made his appearance in the old woman’s house. She had just got up to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and on perceiving a man standing with a naked sword at the door, she concluded he was a thief, and at once ran up to the roof of her house and raised an alarm, which caused all the people of the district to sally forth with sticks and swords; but the adulterous woman ran off by way of the river, which was the shortest, to her house and went instantly to bed. In the confusion her husband was struck by many stones thrown at him when making his escape, but at last he arrived home and overwhelmed his wife with reproaches; she, however, yawned, pretended to awake from sleep, turned from one side to the other, and asked what was the hour of the night. But the infuriated husband would not be deceived by this subterfuge, but vehemently accused her of being unfaithful, and even drew his sword. Upon this the woman cried aloud: “O Muslims! my husband is killing me!” and the police officers, who were at that moment returning from the alarm that had been raised by the old woman, caught the words and ran to the house, when the husband violently struck one of them with his sword, and after a brief struggle was taken into custody.

After the woman had thus got rid of her husband the wasps of lust again stung her, and being anxious to know whether her lover was sick she once more approached Shah Manssur’s couch, awoke him and began her overtures. The old woman’s son, who had been at a neighbour’s, hearing of the disturbance in his mother’s house, went home. On his way, however, when passing near the dwelling of his paramour, he went in, and finding the house empty he concluded that she had gone in search of himself. He was not aware, of course, of Shah Manssur being the guest of his mother, and when he reached home he lit a candle and went into his room, where beholding his paramour with a strange man, he exclaimed: “I have got a curious substitute to-night!” The woman fled in terror, but Shah Manssur fell into the grasp of the young man. The noise of the struggle again awoke the old woman, who, as before, thought that thieves had broken into the house, and ran to the roof of the house and screamed loudly. Her son, supposing Shah Manssur to be the thief, told her that he had taken him. The old woman tried in vain to undeceive him; but he, incited by his jealousy and rage, struck her, on which she raised a great noise, accusing him of wishing to kill her, till some neighbours came and dragged him off to prison.

Notwithstanding all that had taken place the adulterous woman could not rest and again repaired to Shah Manssur, who was this time frightened at her re-appearance, ascribing to her all the mischief that had happened during the night, and believing her to be an evil spirit was considering how he might get rid of her. The old woman’s sister, overhearing the conversation, approached the door to listen. Meanwhile the imprisoned husband had bribed his jailor, escaped from custody, and made his appearance at the old woman’s house, where mistaking her sister for his own wife he wounded her with his sword. The noise again made the landlady get up, and in the tumult the faithless wife took to her heels, as did also her husband, who believed that he had grievously wounded her and chuckled in his heart at the deed. She was, however, very swift-footed, and when he reached home he found her again in bed and to all appearance asleep. Pretending to be just awaking, she asked what he wanted, and he told her he was greatly astonished to behold her safe and sound after he had killed her at the old woman’s house. The wife sarcastically remarked that men are once a-year subject to lunatic influences which affect their minds. Quoth the man: “Possibly this may be the case with me, as I have been greatly disturbed in my mind during the last two days; you have done well to inform me of this.”

When the old woman came out from her house she saw no one except her sister, who was severely wounded. She was amazed, and said to herself: “All the tumult and mischief of this night occurred on account of the presence of this man.” So when it was morning she spoke to Shah Manssur, saying: “Dear sir, as these misfortunes have happened, my son has been thrown into prison, and my sister will perchance die of her wound; and as, moreover, my son is very self-willed and incensed against you, it will be best for you to remove from this house.” Shah Manssur accordingly left the place and began with great pains to travel towards Gaznín, bearing the load of misery on the back of sorrow, and reading the threnody of his misfortunes.[17]

After some time he was overtaken by a man riding on a camel, who accosted him and had compassion for his wretched condition. The man informed him that his name was Baba Fys, that his camel was laden with silk belonging to Khoja Fyra, the vazír of the Amír of Gaznín, who was of a very benevolent disposition and would no doubt assist him. He then took Shah Manssur on his camel, and, dreading the dangers of the night, he proceeded with great speed. The swift motion and his wounds so distressed Shah Manssur that he earnestly desired Baba Fys to set him down again, in order that he might pass the night in tranquility and thus be able to continue his journey in the morning. But his companion told him that to stop at such a place was by no means advisable, since in the vicinity there was a mountain pass to which many animals resorted under the leadership of a monkey named Paykar, who had plundered many caravans. By the prayers of the Lord Sulayman, they could now do mischief only during the night, and therefore they kept the pass obstructed all day, so that travellers must necessarily hasten through it in the night, but after that the road was quite safe, and then he might rest himself. Shah Manssur, however, was in such great distress, and so determined to alight, that Baba Fys, unwilling to abandon him to his fate, was obliged to comply with his request. They agreed to sleep and relieve each other by turns, but had rested only a short time when they perceived a camel approaching them, ridden by a monkey and guided by a bear. Many other animals of dreadful aspect also came running and attacked the camel. Hereupon Baba Fys began to lament, and accused Shah Manssur of having brought him into all this trouble. This attracted the attention of the monkey, who made a sign to the wild beasts, which immediately pulled Baba Fys to the ground, bit off his ears and then retired. This incident so disconcerted Baba Fys that he was ashamed to continue his journey to Gaznín, and, after bitterly upbraiding his companion for being the cause of his mishap, he returned to Kabúl.

Shah Manssur, though wretched and on foot, resumed his journey, and at last reached Gaznín. As it was winter and the city noted for its coldness, he strolled about till he came to a bath-house, when he said to himself: “This is a warm place, so I will spend the night in it.” Accordingly, saluting the keeper, he walked in. The keeper said: “Young man, you appear to be a stranger; where do you come from? where are you travelling to? and what is your occupation?” Manssur replied: “I am a traveller, and the caravan of misfortunes has brought me to this country.” The bath-keeper then asked him: “Did you happen to meet on your way a camel-rider named Baba Fys?” He replied: “We were companions, but in the desert we were attacked by wild beasts, who bit off his ears, and therefore he has returned to Kabúl.” On hearing this the heart of the bath-keeper became hot as a blacksmith’s furnace, seething from the flames of grief, and he exclaimed: “What more distressing news could you tell me? He is my brother; the camel was my property; and I borrowed the price of the silk. I must of necessity go home to-night and consult my relatives on this affair; and as the vazír, who is the owner of this bath and is at present sick, intends to come here in the morning, I was ordered to warm the bath well. Do you therefore put fire into it, and to-morrow I will pay you for your trouble. Take care, however, to stir up the fuel from time to time, so that the bath may become properly heated.” After giving these instructions to Manssur, he departed to his house. But as Manssur was fatigued and glad to be in a warm place, he soon fell asleep; and on awaking he found the fire was extinguished, so he got up, and in his anxiety and inexpertness he stirred the fire so as to break part of the floor above it, in consequence of which the water in the reservoir rushed down and completely put out the fire again, at the same time scalding Manssur, who fled from the place in great fear. When the vazír arrived at the bath in the morning he began to tremble from the cold, and his malady so increased that he fainted. His attendants immediately seized the bath-keeper, who asserted, in excuse, that it was all the fault of the fireman, who had run away. But the vazír suddenly dying in consequence of having caught cold, his son gave orders that both the bath-keeper and the fireman should be put to death.

Manssur, however, had made good his escape from Gaznín, and was journeying towards Lahore when he fell in with a caravan, of which one of the merchants engaged him as his servant. As Manssur was well acquainted with his duties, he diligently guarded his master’s goods, and soon gained his confidence. When the caravan had entered into one of the pargannas of Lahore, as all the provisions were exhausted, each merchant gave his servant a quantity of goods to exchange for victuals. Manssur bartered the goods he had received from his master very profitably, and returned with various kinds of provisions before any of his companions, at which his master was so well pleased that he said to him: “I hear that there are many wealthy persons in this parganna. Take therefore some goods of high price and dispose of them, and I will give you half the profits.” Accordingly, Manssur selected merchandise of nearly the value of five hundred tománs,[18] which he sold for a thousand and returned. His master gave him three hundred tománs, saying: “Let this sum be the capital of your business, which you will in a short time increase and be thus enabled to return to your own country.” Shah Manssur gratefully received the merchant’s generous gift, and, having bought suitable goods, again repaired to the parganna, and hawked them about till he arrived at the gate of an elegant and magnificent mansion, which he concluded to be the property of some noble or grandee, and thought the owner might possibly buy all his stock of merchandise. So he deposited his wares in the shade of a wall and leaned against it, watching the door of the house. Presently a maiden resembling a húrí[19] in stature, with the serenity of the moon in her countenance, and with bewitching eyes, came out of the house with a pitcher in her hand for the purpose of taking water from the river; and Shah Manssur thus addressed her: “I am at your service—

But the maiden replied:

Having thus spoken the damsel went her way, leaving Shah Manssur disappointed. But after a while she returned and inquired of him: “Why do you stop here?” He answered: “I am waiting on rosy-cheeked ladies, and my heart is stored with all sorts of services for them.” Quoth the damsel: “Bring your goods into the house that I may buy them.” So he took up his wares and followed the girl, who walked very rapidly. They passed through a corridor with several doors, and arrived in the court-yard of the mansion, which was a great and lofty edifice of much beauty, having many apartments elegantly furnished, but untenanted. When he had looked around and rested himself for a while, he perceived that the maiden had disappeared. At last he concluded it would be best for him to leave the place; but as he was roaming from one apartment to another he lost his way, and finding no way of exit became frightened, yet continued his search until he reached a hall from the ceiling of which a golden disk was suspended by chains encrusted with precious stones. On both sides of the disk small globular bells were dangling, and upon it there was a phial of glass. The statue of a lion of marble bound in chains occupied one side of the apartment. While Shah Manssur viewed this scene with amazement, the same girl entered with a rod in her hand. As he was about to address her, she exclaimed: “Ha! madman, you have walked into the trap at last!” and struck the lion so that he began to roar, and the disk, the chains, and the little bells shook and jingled, accompanied by great noises, shoutings, and lamentations, which terrified Shah Manssur, who anxiously wished to make his escape. Meanwhile the phial on the disk emitted a green substance mingled with flames, which ascended into the air and filled the apartment with darkness: Shah Manssur almost fainted; and when the smoke and the flame had subsided, a viper lifted its head out of the phial, from which it finally emerged and entered the mouth of the lion. Soon after this the lion sneezed, and from his brains a spider escaped, which gradually increased in size until it became as large as a sheep; when it made a still greater effort its skin burst, from which an old hag of miserable aspect, dreadful as a goblin and ugly as a satyr, came forth, embraced Shah Manssur very ardently, kissed him, and emitted from her cadaverous mouth a disgusting liquid which covered his face. Her putrid breath was like burning sulphur, and made him cough and almost give up the ghost. This dreadful hag, however, doubled her caresses, and would not leave him until he fainted away. When he came to his senses he cried out piteously: “O most gracious lady, deliver me from this calamity!” But she replied: “Your request cannot be gratified;” and then, giving him a substance to smell at, he again became unconscious.

Thus Shah Manssur continued during nearly forty days in the grasp of misfortune. The wretched hag made her appearance once every day, tormenting him, and causing him to faint for the gratification of her wicked lust. One day, however, when she was about the same business, she pulled out a mirror from her pocket and looking into it with great consternation, was suddenly transformed into a spider, crawled into the mouth of the lion, whence she again issued in the form of a serpent, ascended to the disk and disappeared in the phial. Then Shah Manssur went into the court-yard and tried whether he could escape from the place. There the girl met him and said: “I am astonished that she has not thrown you into a trance;” upon which Manssur told her all that had occurred, and the girl said: “She has a foe in Jábolká, whose machination she learns from that mirror, because whenever he attempts to ruin this wicked fairy his figure appears in it, and the accursed one departs to combat him.” Then exclaimed Shah Manssur bitterly: “O cruel and merciless woman! the torments which I have suffered in this house are the consequences of my having by your coquetry been decoyed into it; and now perhaps you will be compassionate enough to let me depart.” The damsel replied: “Young man, I have, like yourself, been caught in this shoreless whirlpool, and have been made the instrument of alluring poor victims, whom she was in the habit of using for the gratification of her wicked desires and afterwards destroying. Whenever I disobeyed her she punished me severely. Her name is Hennána the Witch, and she is a descendant of the sorcerers of the time of Kolyas, whom the accursed Pharaoh sent against the Lord Moses (salutation to him).[20] This iniquitous wretch keeps a similar establishment in Hindústán: she is able, like the wind, to transport herself in a moment from the eastern to the western parts of the world, and to carry the flames of misfortune to all places.”

Shah Manssur then asked the girl: “How did you fall into her power?” She replied: “Know that my father is the chief of Agra and is possessed of great wealth. He had betrothed me to my cousin, who set out for Banáres to procure the paraphernalia of the wedding ceremony; and when the report of my beauty and other qualities had spread through that city, the Amír verified it, was desirous to marry me, and said to my relatives: ‘I have heard that you have a beautiful girl, and I wish to take her for a wife.’ My father and my relatives consented; but as I was deeply in love with my uncle’s son, I became very indignant and exclaimed: ‘To how many men will you give your daughter? It is many years since you betrothed me to my cousin, and though he is absent at Banáres for the purpose of procuring the things needful for a household, I consider myself as under his protection, and shall never accept of another husband as long as I am alive. Do not try to force me, for I would rather commit suicide.’ This resolute declaration had the effect I desired, and, after holding a consultation with our relatives, my father determined that we should all flee to Banáres. I was dressed in male garments, and when night approached was taken out of the city and given in charge of two confidential servants who were to explain everything to my cousin, and we began our journey on fleet Arab steeds. After we had travelled for three days a fearful wind and thunderstorm overtook us in the desert, during which I became separated from my escort and was left alone. As I was roaming about I arrived at a green spot where I discovered a fountain, and feeling thirsty I alighted from my horse, which at once took to flight, and in my vain pursuit of it I chanced to meet an old woman who was weeping piteously and crying aloud: ‘O unhappy fate! have you at last in my old age and weakness thrown me into such a state that I must become the prey of wild beasts? Would to God some friend could take me by the hand and deliver me from this danger!’ I came forward and said: ‘Old woman, what has happened to you?’ She answered: ‘I was going on a pilgrimage to Makka, and when our caravan entered this desert it was plundered by robbers. Here have I been for two days without a morsel of food. Young man, have pity on my age and helplessness; deliver me from this calamity, and convey me to a place of security, that you may be rewarded for your good act.’ I had compassion on the wretched old woman and was considering what I could do for her, when she handed me an apple, of which I had no sooner eaten a small piece than I sneezed and fainted; nor was I sensible of aught until I again opened my eyes and found myself in this place with that accursed witch. When she saw me pale and frightened, she exclaimed: ‘Let nothing dismay you, for your life is not in danger from me;’ and thinking I was a man, she commenced to fondle me, but I soon undeceived her. Since that time four years have elapsed, during which, being myself miserable, I was compelled to entice helpless men into her snares. Nevertheless, one day I conceived that I might escape and secretly left the house, but I was instantly transformed into a she-dog, and was pursued by all the dogs in the town, so that I was again obliged to return to this place. But now I shall propose to you a means of escape, on condition that you convey me in safety to my friends.” Shah Manssur eagerly replied: “I promise to do whatever you require of me,” and the girl went on to say: “When the phial is broken the witch must die; request her therefore to give you tidings concerning your family, and as soon as she disappears you must strike the phial with a stone so as to break it.”[21]

Whilst they were conversing they perceived the accursed hag approaching. So the maiden left the apartment; and when the witch saw Shah Manssur weeping she asked him the reason, to which he answered: “It is now a long time since I was separated from my country, and I have had a fearful dream which afflicts me sorely.” Quoth the hag: “Be not distressed; I shall instantly give you information regarding your relatives;” so saying, she went to the phial, disappeared and quickly returned, and minutely described to him the dwelling as well as the condition of his parents and relatives. Manssur was astonished at the accuracy of her description, but, dissembling, said to her: “I cannot believe all this, because my country is far distant and you have returned in half a minute. Unless you bring me a token that you have really been there I cannot trust you.” Quoth the witch: “What kind of token do you desire?” Manssur replied: “In the garden of our house is a tree on which I once climbed, when a portion of my belt was torn off, which I tied to a branch. If you bring me a rag of the belt I shall then believe you.” When he had said this the witch went again to the phial, and, as before, disappeared. This time the girl brought Shah Manssur a stone; he invoked the aid of God the Most High, and striking the phial, it flew into pieces. Then the lion roared, the chains clanked, the little bells jingled, a fearful noise was heard, some blood dripped from the ceiling of the apartment to the ground, and the magical apparatus, the furniture, the chambers, and the entire edifice vanished, leaving Shah Manssur and the maiden standing together in a cemetery, and both poured forth their thanks to the Most High. Then the girl said: “My dear friend, from hence to Agra is ten days’ journey;” and handing him some costly pearls she added, “try to convey me quickly to my parents, and buy with these pearls all that is necessary for me on the way.” Shah Manssur purchased a camel with a litter and a slave for the damsel, and sent her off to her own country, after which he set out on foot, and in a destitute condition, for Burhanpúr.

When Shah Manssur arrived at his destination he heard that the Amír of Burhanpúr, while hunting, had lost a precious gem from the hilt of his sword, and had issued an order that all the citizens should go next morning to the hunting ground in search of it. So rich and poor, gentle and simple, left the city and roamed about. Shah Manssur joined the crowd, and was fortunate enough to find the lost gem. On presenting it to the Amír he was highly pleased, praised him greatly, and questioned him as to his connections and circumstances; after which he gave him in charge of one of his chamberlains to provide for him as soon as possible. It happened, however, that the Amír died suddenly, and the reward promised to Manssur came to nothing.

The son of the Amír succeeded his father. One day a merchant presented him with a parrot that could speak with great eloquence, and the new Amír entrusted it to the care of the chamberlain, who took the bird home, and having sent for Manssur said to him: “Take the utmost care of this parrot, for it may become the means of introducing you to the Amír, and of your obtaining the reward which his father promised you.”[22] Manssur took charge of the bird and carried it away; but when he got into the street the people were all so anxious to see it and pressed so much upon him that he thought it would be better to take the parrot out of the cage and carry it in his hand. But unluckily it escaped from his grasp and flew to the top of the chamberlain’s haram. Manssur had great trouble in climbing the wall, and just as he had succeeded the parrot again flitted away and alighted on the roof of one of the haram apartments. Shah Manssur was so frightened that he said nothing to the eunuch and other servants, but threw up a cord, by means of which he contrived to reach the spot; but once more the parrot started off, and in so doing moved a tile which fell on the head of the chief lady of the chamberlain’s haram and killed her there and then. The eunuchs and maid-servants, on discovering this fatal mishap, raised their voices in lamentation, which caused the chamberlain to leave his office and run into the haram, where he found everyone in a state of great agitation, and Shah Manssur a captive in the hands of the eunuchs, and he at once ordered the culprit to be beaten and thrown into prison, where the poor fellow was kept for some time and tormented every day until he found a favourable opportunity and escaped.

Shah Manssur fled to Guzerat, where he wandered about in great distress, sometimes hiring himself out as a labourer and sometimes as a porter. One day, when he was unable to obtain either food or employment, he determined to sell the ring with which the neighbour’s wife had presented him.[23] He was chiefly induced to take this step by sniffing the appetising fumes of roast meat in passing a cook’s shop, the owner of which he approached, and requesting something to eat offered the ring in pledge for the price. But when the cook looked at the ruby set in the beazle and then at the poverty-stricken figure of Shah Manssur, he felt sure that he could not be the lawful possessor of such a gem but must have stolen it, and that, not knowing its real value, he was ready to part with it for a meal. Now it chanced that during the preceding night some thieves had broken into the treasury of the Amír and stolen a great quantity of gold, silver, precious stones, and valuables of all kinds; and this audacious robbery had become known throughout the city and the police were busy searching the bazárs and private houses for the thieves. So the cook said to Shah Manssur: “Friend, you do not look like the owner of such a ring as this;—come, tell me where you got it?” “What business have you thus to question me?” replied Manssur. “Either give me something to eat or return me the ring.” These words gave rise to a dispute, which culminated in a fight, wherein the neighbours took the part of the cook, and on the arrival of the police on the scene they took the ring from the cook, and thinking it to be one of the articles stolen from the treasury they dragged Shah Manssur before their superintendent, and reported that they had recovered a portion of the stolen treasure and captured the thief.

It happened that a notorious robber named Obayd was at that time, with forty companions, carrying on great depredations which the police were unable to prevent, and his fame had so widely spread through Hindústán that day and night no one could breathe in peace. It is even said that a few days before the robbery of the Amír’s treasury Obayd sent a message to the police superintendent, to be on his guard, as he was coming. Consequently, when the superintendent saw Manssur he supposed him to be Obayd, loaded him with heavy chains, and sent him to the Amír, together with the ring, for the purpose of ingratiating himself and displaying his zeal in the service. But when the Amír looked at Shah Manssur, he said: “I have always heard that Obayd is a powerful and strong man; this fellow is weak and looks like an arrant coward: he may possibly be an accomplice, but he cannot be Obayd himself.” The superintendent, however, replied: “May your highness live for ever! This man, who seems so feeble, is strong and bold, and so nimble that he can jump through a finger-ring. But now that he has been captured by me his powerful limbs have shrunk together from fear; and I shall put him to the torture forthwith to compel him to tell the truth.” Said the Amír to Shah Manssur: “Who are you? and whence have you obtained this ruby?” He replied, “May the Amír live long! I am a stranger, and the ring is my own property. I have come to this country on account of the great name and the good report which I have heard of the Amír. I have fallen into the hands of the police, but I have no knowledge at all of the robbery of your highness’ treasury.” The apparatus of torture was then brought, and Shah Manssur, being suspended by the heels of punishment, forgot in his misery the name of Obayd and said, “I am Zubayr, and have robbed the treasury.” Now there was a famous robber of the name of Zubayr, so the Amír believed the poor fellow’s statement and remarked: “He may be Zubayr.” The superintendent said to his men: “Take good care of this man to-night, and in the morning we shall again examine him.” Accordingly they took Manssur to prison, all believing him to be the robber Zubayr. On the way all the people who had been robbed by Zubayr rushed up to Manssur and demanded their property; but the superintendent said: “Do not be uneasy. I shall get back to the last farthing everything he has taken from you.”

When night set in special watchmen were appointed to guard the prison, and vaunting their own bravery and fidelity, they took charge of the four corners thereof. Shah Manssur was unable to sleep, and was thinking how the morning would dawn on his innocent head, when he heard sounds of striking and digging. It was midnight, and he hearkened to the sounds with fear and trembling, till suddenly the wall opened, from which a hand grasping a sword protruded, at which Manssur became so terrified that he nearly fainted, for he weened it was a man belonging to the police. A voice, however, exclaimed: “Friend, be not afraid. I have come to save you. We have no time to lose in explanations;” and with these words a strong man seized Shah Manssur with his fetters and chains, carried him out of the prison, let him down the wall of the fort by a rope, and conveyed him quickly to a ruin at a distance of nearly three farasangs. When he arrived there he placed Manssur on his feet, and raising a great stone which covered the entrance to an underground chamber, they descended into it, and there he set poor Manssur free from his heavy bonds, after which he thus addressed him: “Young man, be comfortable and rest yourself, for I know you have suffered much.” Then placing before him different kinds of delicious food, he added: “Eat cheerfully, for your misfortunes are now ended.”

After Shah Manssur had eaten he went to sleep; and when he awoke he spoke thus to his deliverer: “Generous and kind man, although honesty radiates from your august countenance and I feel happy in your company, yet, as it is my fate to wander in the desert of grief and to fall perpetually from one calamity to another, you would greatly relieve my apprehensions by informing me of the motives of your kind act.” The man replied: “I am the robber of the Amír’s treasury! But when I learned that you, an innocent man, had been imprisoned in my stead, I considered it my duty to liberate you, and for that purpose I have been obliged to kill many of the watchmen. To-morrow, when everything becomes known, there will be great excitement and the police will be in pursuit of me. This is a secure refuge where no one can discover you; and when the storm is over I shall find means to convey you out of all danger.” Shah Manssur replied by expressing his deep feeling of gratitude to his deliverer.

Next morning at sun-rise the superintendent was informed that a number of watchmen had been killed and that Zubayr had been carried off through an opening in the wall. At this unpleasant news he was much disconcerted, and ran at once to the palace to make his report. The Amír was furious and exclaimed: “You rascal! is this how you have taken care of your prisoner? This comes only through your gross negligence. I shall hear none of your excuses. Produce the man, else I shall punish you and ignominiously expel you from my service.”

When the people of the town learned what had happened, all who had been plundered by Zubayr accused the superintendent of having connived at the prisoner’s escape and clamoured for the restitution of their property. So he asked for a month’s respite and despatched three thousand men in search of the robber. But after vainly searching in all directions they returned, and those who had been robbed confiscated the superintendent’s property, and the Amír expelled him from the city.

Meanwhile the deliverer of Shah Manssur kept him company during the day and went forth at night in order to ascertain what was going on in the city; and when he heard of the superintendent’s downfall he hastened back and said to Manssur: “Praise be to God! the danger is over, and it is time for me to send you to your own country.” But quoth Shah Manssur: “Dear friend, I have a difficulty which I wish you to solve for me.” Said the man: “Speak.” Shah Manssur continued: “Since I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance, I have discovered nothing improper in your character; but it is utterly incomprehensible to me how you, who are endowed with such noble sentiments, can have selected the occupation of a robber.” His liberator answered:

“My occupation was formerly quite different. Know that my name is Junayd Muhtashim, and I am a scion of a noble and opulent family. In this neighbourhood there is a tract of country with flowing rivers, spacious meadows, fertile lands, many houses and numberless gardens. All that district belonged to me and was inhabited by my retainers and servants, and I cheerfully paid all taxes to the Amír, who was for many years my friend. In course of time, however, the exactions of the government officials became very heavy; judges, tax-gatherers, and accountants were sent to me whose rapacity it was difficult to satisfy, and I became greatly distressed. I repeatedly made complaints to the Amír, and endeavoured to convince him that he could be powerful only so long as he treated his subjects with justice, and that oppression could result in nothing but unhappiness and confusion. But all my advice proved futile, and when his delegates came again I took refuge in a fort and answered therefrom. After several days had passed in this way, I heard that it was the intention of the Amír to plunder me, so I conveyed all my moveable property into the stronghold and prepared to stand a siege. When the Amír became aware that he could not very easily get at me, he seized the sheep and cattle which I possessed outside of the city, and ultimately I was able to take refuge with my retainers in Hyderábád, whither some persons came and bought of me all the landed property I had in Guzerat; but as I could in no other way recover the value of the goods and cattle which the Amír had forcibly taken from me, I secretly returned to Guzerat to pay myself from his own treasury or in any other way, and no one has been able to interfere with me.[24] But you, my friend, must no longer remain in this place. I have a courser, swift like lightning, to whom fifty farasangs are an easy stage: mount and ride on him to Hyderábád, where I shall induce my friends to send you comfortably to Nishapúr.”

Having written a few words to his relatives, explained to Shah Manssur the position of his house, and presented him with a costly diamond, he took affectionate leave of him, wished him God-speed, led him out of the underground apartment, and said: “Wait a moment till I bring you a horse.” He presently returned with a steed, which when Manssur had mounted, “This courser,” said his deliverer, “well knows the road, and when you reach Hyderábád you must throw the reins on his neck, and he will carry you without fail to the threshold of my house;” so saying, he led him on to the highway and again bade him farewell.

Shah Manssur prosecuted his journey with great rapidity till he arrived at Hyderábád, and remembering the injunctions he had received, allowed the horse to go where it pleased. Thus he rode through the streets till suddenly a man recognised the horse, and proceeding to Junayd’s house intimated that a stranger was coming mounted on his horse. Some of Junayd’s relatives at once went out and asked Shah Manssur where he got the animal he bestrode. He replied: “The horse is my own, and you have no right to question me.” These words so incensed the people that they instantly surrounded him and pulled him off the horse, saying: “This animal belongs to us. Come—tell us the truth as to how you obtained it.” Shah Manssur, believing them to be a pack of rascals who wished to deprive him of the horse, began to use insulting language towards them. By this time a great number of people had gathered round the horse and they cried out: “We know this animal: it belongs to Junayd, and these are his relatives. You must produce some token of your honesty.” As soon as Manssur learned that these were the friends of Junayd he began to fumble in his pocket for the letter he had received from him, but could not find it—on the road he had lost both the letter and the diamond; so all his assertions that the horse had been given to him by the owner were discredited. They declared to him plainly that he had either killed Junayd or robbed him; and then they beat Manssur most cruelly and imprisoned him until the matter could be cleared up. He was kept in confinement till one of his accusers fell dangerously ill, and tormented by the stings of his conscience, when he was set at liberty.

Shah Manssur now reflected: “My remaining in Hindústán is of no use, for calamities dog me at every step. Alas for the time which I have lost in roaming about in this country! It were better that I should return home, and if the Most High please, he can make me happy and cause me to prosper there.” A caravan was proceeding from Hyderábád to Irán,[25] and Manssur, sad and disappointed, travelled along with it. On reaching the outskirts of Nishapúr, he said to himself: “To make my appearance in this destitute and miserable condition, after a journey from Hindústán, would distress my friends and cause my enemies to rejoice. Therefore I will remain here until nightfall and then enter the town and go to my friends.” He took refuge in a dilapidated building, where he mourned and wept over his sad fate. After a while an owl flew in, pursued by an eagle, and sought protection of Shah Manssur, who took up a stone to throw at the eagle. The stone, however, struck the wall and displaced a brick, when a quantity of gold ashrafís[26] fell to the ground. Shah Manssur ran to the place and there found a pot full of gold and silver. He stuffed his pockets with gold coins and then concealed the pot in an obscure corner of the ruin, fervently thanking God for this happy termination of his travels and misfortunes.[27]

He remained in the ruin all night, and in the morning he did not enter Nishapúr but went to Kazvyn, where he took an apartment in the caravanserai, changed his habiliments, and bought a large quantity of the finest merchandise, a string of camels, and three slaves, and made his entrance into Nishapúr rejoicing. He was most kindly received by his relatives and friends, and in course of time he removed the whole of the treasure from the ruin to his own house. Thus he lived in comfort and prosperity, made several journeys to the country of Rúm and to that of the Franks,[28] by which he obtained large profits, so that he finally became the owner of seven hundred strings of valuable camels.

One day when he was sitting with his friends and relating his unhappy adventures in Hindústán, he mentioned also the affair of the witch, and asked whether they had seen her about the place. They replied: “We were sitting together one day in this very house, when a strange cat made its appearance, looked at each of us attentively, and instantly vanished. Not long afterwards it came again, ran with great speed up yonder tree, and immediately falling down, seemed to be in the agony of death, but when we went up to the animal it had already expired.” Quoth Shah Manssur: “That was the same witch whose captive I had been for some time, until at last I contrived to send her here and escape;” and at this explanation they were greatly amazed.[29]

Shah Manssur once took a large quantity of merchandise, with many attendants, to the country of Tabríz, which was at that time under the Turkish government. He waited on the Amír of Tabríz, associated with him, and so gained his favour that he made him his vazír; and when the Amír died, the citizens, being pleased with the kind and just disposition of Shah Manssur in his capacity of vazír, petitioned the sultan to make him Amír, a request which was readily granted, and Shah Manssur governed in Tabríz for many years until he died.

“My dear Nassar,” continued Khayrandísh, “I have related this narrative to make you understand that a man cannot attain the object of his desires by irregular wanderings and inordinate appetites; but if he be patient he will succeed. The world is a coquette, and the more she is courted the more coy and prudish she becomes, but if left unnoticed she will try to gain our favours.”

Second Advice.

“It is necessary to guard oneself from the wiles and snares of our fellow-beings, and not to trust implicitly in persons whose character is neither known nor tried. Whoever walks among thorns must do so with great care and precaution. This world resembles a picture-gallery with many apartments, each of which has its own peculiar attractions; but a man who should spend all his time in the contemplation and enjoyment thereof, to the neglect and disregard of his daily avocations, would injure his own interests. Therefore he is prudent who runs not after every fleeting illusion, but bridles his desires lest he be disappointed and rendered unhappy, like the geomancer, the washerman, and the painter, who lost control of their passions and were drowned in the ocean of misfortunes and errors, grieving over their troubles, which they were unable to remedy.” Then Khayrandísh told Nassar the

Story of Hatim Taï and the Benevolent Lady.

It is related that when Hatim Taï[30] was dispensing his bounty one day in a hall which had forty doors, by every one of which the destitute might be admitted, a darvesh entered and thus addressed him: “O vernal cloud of liberality! the mead of hope expects to be irrigated by you. O husbandman of the field of beneficence, the aspirants to your favours are in attendance to receive your refreshing showers, and this gleaner from the store-houses of your bounty was by the guide of hope directed to the prosperous mansion of your generosity!

Hatim ordered one hundred dínars[31] to be given to the darvesh, who again entered by another door and reiterated his petition, and again obtained one hundred dínars. Thus he repeated his request until he had come in by all the forty doors, and had obtained the same sum at each of them. After that he reappeared at the first door and proffered the same request, upon which an attendant said to him: “Darvesh, you have made the round of all the entrances and were disappointed at none. How is it that your greediness is not yet satisfied, and that you have exposed yourself to a refusal?” The darvesh heaved a deep sigh and replied: “The fame of Hatim, which extends over the whole world, has induced me to travel from China to this place. But in that country there is a lady more liberal than he, inasmuch as her largesses surpass the most extravagant expectations of those who receive them, so that a hundred Hatims could not equal in many years the sums which she disburses in one day.” When the darvesh had thus spoken he disappeared, and Hatim became desirous of ascertaining the truth of his statement, so he departed for China, and, arrived there, considering how he might accomplish his object, he walked about the streets.

He perceived great crowds of people hastening away and inquired the reason, when a man answered: “In this city there was a man of the name of Nassar-ullah, who possessed immense riches. He left a daughter who distributes in great profusion—and has done so for several years—money to all persons. If you wish to know whether I speak the truth, you have only to follow the crowd.” Accordingly Hatim went along with the people, and arrived at a beautiful palace where servants dressed in rich garments received everyone who wished to enter. Within the palace Hatim saw a large assembly reposing on silken couches, with tables before them on which the finest dainties were placed in rich variety and abundance. After the repast was over a confidential servant appeared with a platter full of pieces of paper on which different sums were written; and to every person who was about to depart he handed one of those papers. When Hatim’s turn came he also received one, and the assembly broke up. As the people arrived at the gate each man handed his paper to a servant, who gave him in return a bag full of gold according to the amount specified on the little ticket. Hatim was so much astonished at what he had seen that he was constantly thinking of the immense riches of the lady, and was extremely anxious to obtain an interview with her. So he requested a chamberlain to procure him the honour of an audience, and on being admitted into the presence of that queen he addressed her as follows: “Most exalted lady of the mansions of liberality, and húrí of the castles of felicity!

That idol of high prosperity gave permission, and Hatim spake thus: “I hear that the stream of your extraordinary liberality has for several years flowed with undiminished vigour, and I am curious to know how you obtained such enormous wealth.” Quoth the lady: “Every assembly receives light from its lamp, and the destiny of every individual is traced out on his forehead by the hand of divine providence.

The state of my affairs is connected with a tale which I shall communicate to you on two conditions: First, I am informed that at present there exists a man of the name of Hatim, whose liberality is so far famed that in spite of my having for a number of years made it my business to grant to all persons the richest and most abundant gifts, my name is not even heard of except in this country; therefore I am so jealous of Hatim that I wish you to kill him. Secondly, I have heard that in the neighbourhood of Khatá there is an exceedingly high mountain, in a cave of which a blind man has dwelt for many years, who never utters any words save these:

and I desire to know his reason for constantly repeating these words.”

Hatim drew the finger of acquiescence over the face of content, took his leave, and set out for the cave indicated by the lady. There he found a blind man, whom he requested to relate his adventures. But the blind man replied: “My good friend, what can have instigated you to make such a request? I have no doubt that your mind is often exercised with problems which you cannot solve; and I pray you to consider this question as one of them.” Hatim, however, went on to say: “Persons of a kindly disposition generally comply with the requests of the importunate, and I hope you will not allow me to depart from this place without affording me the desired information.” Then quoth the blind man: “I shall withdraw the veil from the surface of the mystery on one condition: It is long since I heard that there is a washerman in Khatá who goes every morning to the bank of the river and does nothing but look at a tree which is there, leap about like a madman, sigh deeply, and repeat these verses:

Now, my good friend, if you acquaint me with the story of that washerman, I shall have no objection to relate to you my own history.”

Accordingly Hatim proceeded in quest of the washerman, and finding the blind man’s account of him perfectly accurate, he was not a little astonished at his actions and said to him: “Friend, if you would kindly inform me why you act in this strange manner, I might be able to help you in your troubles and perhaps liberate you from your affliction.” But the washerman sighed and only said in reply: “The wound of my heart no medicine can heal, nor can any advice help me. I am incurable, and the grief of my heart would only be augmented were I to reveal it.

Quoth Hatim: “Young man, stand not on ceremony with me, for I shall not quit hold of your skirt until you have told me your adventures.” Then said the washerman: “I also have a great curiosity regarding a certain matter, and if you will satisfy it I shall relate to you my story. Know that in Máchin there is a man who paints on a board, during the whole year, a picture of the handsomest kind, which he sells in the bazár at the end of the year for a thousand dínars, and then returns the money and breaks his picture to pieces. I wish to learn the reason of this proceeding.” “Alas, and woe is me!” exclaimed Hatim. “Into what a labyrinth of troubles have I fallen, to be thus required to solve one enigma after another!” He had, however, no alternative but to go to the city of Máchin, and it so chanced that he arrived there at the time when the painter had brought his picture to the bazár and was surrounded by such a great crowd of people that Hatim could only get near him as a bidder, and assisted at the sale until the painter broke his picture and gathered up the fragments, when the crowd dispersed with exclamations of regret. Hatim then visited the painter and addressed him, saying: “Young man, what is your opinion regarding hospitality?” In reply the painter recited these verses:

He received Hatim in a very friendly manner, and inquired of him: “To what circumstance may I ascribe the happiness of being visited by you?” Quoth Hatim: “The mysterious force which attracts kindred spirits to each other has made me trespass on your retirement.” After an interchange of courtesies they became quite intimate, and Hatim, anxious to attain his object, said to the painter: “Dear friend, I conjure you, by the obligations which you have already conferred on me, to explain the cause of what I have witnessed this day,” and he thus complied:

The Painter’s Story.

In former times, when the refreshing clouds of youth and strength watered the grove of my life, I decked out my imagination with the variegated robes of pleasure, and during the greater portion of that period the buds of all kinds of desires blossomed, and the ardent longings to embrace the fairy of enjoyment took possession of my heart. I had a delightful garden in which I walked about one day according to my usual custom, when I beheld two serpents fighting. One was black, the other white; the latter seemed to be the weaker and about to succumb to its antagonist; and, as every one who removes a thorn from the path of a bare-footed person performs a good action, I drew my scymetar and struck off the head of the black serpent. That very moment the sky became darkened, something roared in the air, a phial fell to the earth and was shattered to pieces, at the same time the white serpent disappeared. I was astonished at what had taken place, but again returned to the garden next day to walk about in it. In passing near the bank of a river I observed a white hand protruding from the water, each finger of which was adorned with a ring set with precious stones of a brilliancy never before seen by the eyes of man. The desire of possessing such gems incited me to seize one of the fingers, when the hand drew me instantly into the river, and on opening my eyes I found myself in a garden like Paradise, full of the most beautiful flowers and trees. When I had recovered from my confusion and astonishment I began to stroll about that spacious garden until I reached a splendid building, which I entered, and discovered a person seated on a throne surrounded by attendants. I approached and humbly saluted him; he received me kindly, called me nearer, and said: “I am surprised to behold you in this place.” To which I answered: “May it please your exalted majesty, I have not intruded, but was forced to come into this region,” and I explained the whole affair. Then quoth he: “On account of the benefit you have conferred on our family, we were extremely anxious to see you.” On hearing these words I began to consider to what nation this man might belong, and what good service I could possibly have rendered him, when he proceeded to say: “I know that you are thinking of me. My name is Zayn al-Mafakhir. From Ma-varannahr, which is inhabited by men, the country as far as China is in my power; and, except my ancestors, none of the fairies or genii can enter it. I am obeyed by more than thirty thousand genii and fairies. I have a daughter called Subayha, who is innocent and beautiful. One of the chief genii had fallen in love with her and wished to marry her, and with this object had sent a messenger to enter into negotiations; but, as enmity and strife existed between us, I refused to have anything to do with him. This so incensed the suitor that he despatched a genie to steal my daughter; but my spies having informed me of his proceedings, I constantly watched the girl. She was, however, wont to visit your garden, and two days ago she happened to be there when Jarbua assumed the form of a black serpent, and had almost effected his purpose when you passed by and killed him. Subayha told me of this, and I resolved to make you her husband.”

When the maiden was shown to me, her bewitching eye at once captured the fawn of the repose of my heart; and on beholding the extraordinary attractions of her person I fell ardently in love with her; and Zayn al-Mafakhir said: “Subayha belongs to you. But, as the nature of a fairy is entirely different from that of a human being, you must never contradict or irritate her, but obey her in all things, lest the thread of your affection be snapped in twain.” I promised to follow these injunctions most faithfully; married Subayha; obtained all the necessaries for housekeeping; and Zayn al-Mafakhir went to reside in another place, leaving his palace with all its furniture and servants for our use. In due course my wife gave birth to a son, and at the moment a wolf appeared, to whom she threw the infant, and he walked off with it. On seeing this act of cruelty my heart was sorely grieved for my child, but on account of my promise I could not say anything, and renewed my intimacy with her. After this we had three more children, two of whom she threw to wolves and the third into the fire; and each time I was overwhelmed with sorrow, until one day, when a grandee of that region sent me some rich food, and I was just about to begin to eat it with perfect zest when my wife dashed it from me, at which patience forsook me, and I said to her: “Darling, in every thing my only desire is to please you, and I have never failed in my duty towards you. But what gave occasion for your unkindness? Three of my children you have given to wolves, the fourth you have cast into the fire, and sorrow for their loss had well-nigh killed me, though I did not complain to you; and now you have thrown away the most delicious food. Surely these are all tokens of your displeasure and even hatred!” The fuel of these words set the oven of the lady’s anger in a blaze, and she exclaimed:

Young man, on the day of our union you promised not to ask the reason of anything I should do. The children whom you thought I had given to wolves and thrown into the fire were simply delivered to their nurses, and all are alive and well.” Hereupon she showed me our four children, who were extremely beautiful. Then she continued: “The food which I threw away had been poisoned by a malevolent genie, and had you eaten of it you would have immediately perished. But now that you have been so thoughtless I can no longer remain with you.” Having thus spoken, she became suddenly changed into a dove and darkness covered the sky. When it was daylight, the palace, with its furniture and ornaments, its garden and servants, had disappeared, and I found myself in a cemetery, dressed in the same garb as on the day when I went to walk in my garden.

For some time after this event I wandered about the streets and bazárs like a madman, until my relatives applied various remedies which quieted the excited condition of my mind; but no medicine could heal my grief. In our neighbourhood there dwelt a painter who was well skilled in drawing portraits, and I became his pupil to enable myself to perpetuate the memory of my love and soothe my grief. I attained skill to paint the likenesses of my wife and children, in which occupation I take such delight that I complete every year a large picture and sell it for a high price; but, as my jealousy does not allow me to let such precious treasures fall into the possession of strangers, I break the picture to pieces. O my friend, the felicity I enjoyed is gone for ever, and I spend my life in misery.

As soon as Hatim had heard this narrative he hastened back to the washerman and related it to him, who in his turn now told Hatim the story of his adventures, as follows:

The Washerman’s Story.

I have followed the business of a washerman for many years. My occupation brought me every day to this place, and once, when I was here as usual, I observed a dove alighting on a tree. The bird was so beautiful that I left off my work to admire it. After a while it shook its wings, its skin opened, and a húrí-like damsel was revealed to my sight. She descended from the tree and seated herself in my lap. I rubbed the sleeve of astonishment over my eyes and exclaimed: “What happiness has fallen to my lot! O most beauteous lady, I am ready to sacrifice my life to you, and to make you the companion of my joys and sorrows.” But the damsel replied: “Young man, this is not a fitting time for jesting. I have come a long way, and feeling very weary I wish to repose for a while.” So she laid her head in my lap and fell asleep, while I pondered my good fortune and future enjoyment. Meantime another and still more beautiful dove settled on a branch of the tree, and presently turned into a heart-ravishing maiden. Desirous to please her, I expressed some compliments, to which she thus responded: “Men are of weak intellects and so fickle that they bestow every moment their affection on a new object. One eye needs not two pupils and one scabbard cannot contain two swords. Let no one be thirsty in a river, or wish for flowers in a garden.” On hearing these sarcastic remarks I gently removed the head of the first lady from my lap and said to the second: “I renounce a thousand mistresses like this for half a glance of your eyes,” adding many other complimentary expressions which pleased her so much that she also laid her head in my lap and fell asleep. Soon afterwards a third dove alighted on the tree, and was like the others transformed into a beautiful girl. Forgetting what I had said to the other ladies, I fell violently in love with her, but while I was trying to ingratiate myself with the new comer, the two others awoke, and all three upbraided me in this strain: “O faithless and ignorant wretch! are you not ashamed of your unsteady and chameleon-like nature, and do you not know that the first condition of love is fidelity! Who could ever expect attachment from thee?

When they had thus spoken they assumed the forms of doves again and flew away, leaving me to regret my folly and repent of my fickleness. Many years have come and gone since then, but I can never forget the happiness which I might have enjoyed, and so I roam about in despair.

Hatim took leave of the washerman and proceeded to the cave in the mountain where he related the history of the fickle lover to the blind man, who now told him his own history in these words:

The Blind Man’s Story.

In former times I was a skilful geomancer,[32] and one day I visited a tradesman in the town with whom I had some business, on the conclusion of which he requested me to cast his horoscope. I complied, and it appeared that he was to find a treasure. I informed him of this, but he smiled incredulously and said: “I am too well acquainted with my own destitute condition. What you say is impossible, and I cannot permit you to jest at my expense.” I repeated the operation, and the result being the same, I swore that there was no joke at all in the matter. Quoth he: “Where, then, is this treasure?” Said I: “In this very house.” The door was then locked and we both began to dig with great energy until we came upon a large stone, which having removed, we found that it had covered a well. After consultation it was agreed that he should go down and I was to remain above to receive the treasure. Accordingly, my friend having provided himself with a basket, I let him down by a rope, and when he had filled the basket with gold, I drew it up, and thus we continued until an immense heap of gold and gems lay beside me. Then I thought to myself: “It is possible that if I pull him up again he may try to get rid of me, and so deprive me of my life as well as of a share of this treasure. I had better leave him in the well, remove these riches privily, and pass the rest of my life in comfort.” When my friend found that I did not again lower the basket he began to suspect my design, and cried to me from the bottom of the well: “Brother, do not harbour any evil thoughts about me, for I shall never forget your kindness, and we shall make an equal division of the whole treasure. Draw me up, I beseech you.” But I would not comply, because I considered that a secret in the possession of two persons is soon divulged, and both are disappointed. I therefore took no notice of his lamentations, and was thinking how I might remove the treasure without the knowledge of any one, and concluded that the first thing to be done was to cover up the well so that I should be freed from any apprehensions concerning my partner, and then carry off the gold and silver by piecemeal. With these ideas I walked about the house and considered that it would be advisable to wait till nightfall, when I should cover the well and take away a portion of the treasure. But when the night set in it occurred to me that I might be attacked by robbers or that some other mishap might befal me, so I thought it would be more prudent to wait for the break of day, and then with a quiet mind carry off my wealth, and thus thinking, I fell asleep.

Now my friend happened to have a mortal enemy who was waiting for an opportunity to kill him, and being desirous that night of giving effect to his purpose he came to the house, fastened a rope to the wall, and by means of it climbed to the roof, from which he descended into the apartment where I was sleeping. The sound of the man’s footsteps awoke me, and I leapt up affrighted, crying: “Who is there?” The man, mistaking me for the owner of the house, caught hold of me and threw me violently on the floor. “Friend,” said I, “if you want gold and silver, take it, but spare my life.” “Do you wish to deceive me,” said the ruffian, “and escape by such a subterfuge? You are as poor as a beggar, and I shall make you walk the streets as one.” Thereupon he took an awl and piercing both my eyes with it blinded me for ever, he being in the hand of Providence the instrument of punishing me for my covetousness. After having thus avenged himself on his enemy, as he thought, the man wished to leave the house, but in the darkness he tumbled into the well and broke his leg. The tradesman, supposing it was myself who had thus fallen into the well, exclaimed: “Friend, you are wonderfully covetous, and thereby have not only brought me to this misery but have yourself now become my partner in misfortune.” But his enemy, mistaking him for some one whom the tradesman had thus confined, said to him: “I have punished the man who has imprisoned you in this well.” Presently, however, he began to cry out from the pain occasioned by his broken leg, when the tradesman at once discovered it was not I who had become his fellow-prisoner. I need hardly say that I passed the night in great pain from my blinded eyes.

Next day the tradesman’s son returned home from a journey to foreign lands, where he had gained much wealth. On entering the house he was astonished to find me holding both my hands to my eyes and a heap of treasure by the side of the open well, and to hear me exclaiming: “I was comfortable without this treasure, but my covetousness has for ever deprived me of my sight,” and the lamentations of the two men at the bottom of the well. He ordered a slave to draw them up, and to his surprise and joy the first to appear was the young man’s father, who told him all that had occurred, and when the other man had also been pulled out, he discovered that his enemy was uninjured and that it was I whom he had blinded. The tradesman forgave us both, but his enemy died soon after these occurrences.

I was conveyed to this cave, and every day, morning and evening, two small loaves are thrown in to me. I have been in this place many years, but have never ceased to repent of my covetousness.

Hatim, having thus ascertained the histories of those three men, at once returned to the bountiful lady and related them to her, after which she told him her own story, as she had promised:

The Benevolent Lady’s Story.

My father was a wealthy merchant of this country, and very intimate with all its ruling powers, until he died, when I inherited his property and lived in comfort. One day as I was sitting at a window I observed a large company of devotees, preceded by a man reputed to be of great sanctity, who bore the marks of piety in his countenance. Whenever he stopped a chair was placed for him, and the people stood reverently around him, wiping with their sleeves the dust from his skirts and shoes; and in this manner the procession entered the city. Seeing the stature of that person invested with the robe of piety and devotion, I was curious to ascertain what famed hermit or saint he might be, and despatched a servant to make inquiries. He returned soon and said: “This is Mullah Tamurtash, the ascetic, who has in the school of abstinence studied the divine laws and performs his devotions in the hermitage of Abú Tuchmah and is now come to the city at the invitation of the people to preach and pray.” On learning this I considered it incumbent on me to pay a compliment to so holy a personage, so the next day I made up a few presents and said to a slave: “Take this to the holy ascetic, and request his prayers for me at the throne of Grace.” My messenger was received with great kindness, and examined on every circumstance connected with my affairs. During the ensuing night an alarm of “thieves” was raised in my house, and when I awoke I found that a number of men had walked off with all the valuables they could lay hands on, and I sent a servant in pursuit of them to discover where they deposited my property. The servant on his return informed me that everything had been conveyed to the abode of the ascetic. I immediately proceeded to the king’s palace and stated my case to him, but was not a little surprised to receive this reply: “This foolish and impudent woman,” said the king, “speaks like an infidel, and ought to be expelled from the city lest some calamity should befall us on account of her wickedness. To asperse the character of a man who has all his life walked in the path of virtue is enough to call down the wrath of God on our own heads.” I was accordingly driven out of the city, poor and helpless, and journeyed on foot till I reached a village, where I obtained shelter in the house of a respectable man; and having, as my sole property, a ruby ring, I managed, by means of my host, to sell it for ten thousand dirhams, and as one of the agents of my father was established in Hindústán I determined to go to that country. Having purchased a camel and a slave, I set out on my journey and in due time arrived safely at the house of my father’s agent, to whom I related my misfortunes. In short, I remained some time in Hindústán and engaged in commerce, through which I accumulated immense wealth. I then resolved to return to China, and, having provided myself with seventy powerful, valiant, and intelligent slaves and put on men’s attire, proceeded to trade from town to town until I reached my native city. I readily obtained an audience of the king, to whom I presented a number of valuable gifts, and soon it was reported far and wide that a very rich merchant had arrived from Hindústán with a great company of attendants. One day I gave a quantity of gold and silver to a slave and ordered him to carry it to Tamurtash the ascetic, with my humble request that he would remember me in his prayers. At night I ordered all my attendants to arm themselves and to be on the alert, but keep quiet and concealed. I was not deceived in my expectation, for about the middle of the night the ascetic with his followers came, and throwing ropes over the wall got into the courtyard with the design of plundering my house. Suddenly my servants leapt forth from their ambush and captured the ascetic with his forty accomplices, all of whom I caused to be confined in chains. As soon as morning dawned I went to the palace and made my statement, when the king ordered the police immediately to search for the thieves. “O King,” said I, “all the robbers are already captured, and if you will permit, I shall bring them into your presence.” When the king and his courtiers beheld Tamurtash the ascetic and his disciples they were amazed, and the king straightway caused them all to be put to death, saying: “That woman stated the truth the first time also, but we gave no credit to her words; she has suffered innocently, and now we have no means to make good our error.” But I replied, smiling: “That poor woman am I, O King,” and related the whole affair. The king approved of what I had done, and made over to me all the property of the ascetic.[33]

“Now, my friend,” continued the lady, “years have passed since I commenced to bestow the most abundant gifts from that property, and no diminution appears in it. But in spite of all my liberality my fame is not known beyond this country, while that of Hatim is patent and manifest in the world like the sun. You have promised to bring me the head of Hatim, but you have not kept your word.” Hatim answered: “I am myself Hatim, and my head is at your disposal,” and drawing his sword he laid it before the lady. She was greatly moved and said: “True greatness consists not merely in liberality but in hazarding our lives for those of our friends, and that you have done. The pre-eminence is therefore yours. Hitherto I have abstained from accepting the addresses of any man, but your beauty and liberality induce me to offer you my hand.” Hatim was highly pleased, drew the hand of response over the eyes of acquiescence, married her, and lived with her happily for many years until they were parted by death.

When Khayrandísh had ended this tale he said to Nassar: “I have related these stories to impress on your mind the fact that whoever abandons the reins of his heart to the promptings of foolish illusions, and the vain imaginings of his animal passions, will fare like the Painter, the Washerman, and the Blind Man, will reap only disappointment, carry on his back the load of bitter memories, and during his whole life taste nothing but the beverage of shame and repentance.”

Third Advice.

“Although Fortune may smile on a man,” continued Khayrandísh, “and distinguish him above his peers, he should be provident and prudent, and must not despise the counsel of his friends. He must also be on his guard against enemies, else he will, like Kasharkasha the son of the king of Fars,[34] fall into the power of his foes, and the rose-grove of his contentment will be withered by the autumn of grief, and all his life he will be a wanderer in the deserts of repentance.” Nassar asked: “How was that?” And Khayrandísh began to relate the