It would seem, from the following story, that an old man's prayers are sometimes reversed in response, as dreams are said to "go by contraries": An old Arab left his house one morning, intending to go to a village at some distance, and coming to the foot of a hill which he had to cross he exclaimed: "O Allah! send some one to help me over this hill." Scarcely had he uttered these words when up came a fierce soldier, leading a mare with a very young colt by her side, who compelled the old man, with oaths and threats, to carry the colt. As they trudged along, they met a poor woman with a sick child in her arms. The old man, as he laboured under the weight of the colt, kept groaning, "O Allah! O Allah!" and, supposing him to be a dervish, the woman asked him to pray for the recovery of her child. In compliance, the old man said: "O Allah! I beseech thee to shorten the days of this poor child.” 'Alas!" cried the mother, "why hast thou made such a cruel prayer?" "Fear nothing," said the old man; "thy child will assuredly enjoy long life. It is my fate to have the reverse of whatever I pray for. I implored Allah for assistance to carry me over this hill, and, by way of help, I suppose, I have had this colt imposed on my shoulders."

Jámí tells this humorous story in the Sixth "Garden" of his Baháristán, or Abode of Spring: A man said the prescribed prayers in a mosque and then began his personal supplications. An old woman,

who happened to be near him, exclaimed: "O Allah! cause me to share in whatsoever he supplicates for." The man, overhearing her, then prayed: "O Allah! hang me on a gibbet, and cause me to die of scourging." The old trot continued: "O Allah! pardon me, and preserve me from what he has asked for.” Upon this the man turned to her and said: "What a very unreasonable partner this is! She desires to share in all that gives rest and pleasure, but she refuses to be my partner in distress and misery."

We have already seen that even the grave and otiose Turk is not devoid of a sense of the ludicrous, and here is another example, from Mr. E. J. W. Gibb's translation of the History of the Forty Vezírs: A party of Turkmans left their encampment one day and went into a neighbouring city. Returning home, as they drew near their tents, they felt hungry, and sat down and ate some bread and onions at a spring-head. The juice of the onions went into their eyes and caused them to water. Now the children of those Turkmans had gone out to meet them, and, seeing the tears flow from their eyes, they concluded that one of their number had died in the city, so, without making any inquiry, they ran back, and said to their mothers: "One of ours is dead in the city, and our fathers are coming weeping." Upon this all the women and children of the encampment went forth to meet them, weeping together. The Turkmans who were coming from the city thought

that one of theirs had died in the encampment; and thus they were without knowledge one of the other, and they raised a weeping and wailing together such that it cannot be described. At length the elders of the camp stood up in their midst and said: "May ye all remain whole; there is none other help than patience"; and they questioned them. The Turkmans coming from the city asked: "Who is dead in the camp?" The others replied: "No one is dead in the camp; who has died in the city?" Those who were coming from the city, said: "No one has died in the city." The others said: "For whom then are ye wailing and lamenting?" At length they perceived that all this tumult arose from their trusting the words of children.

This last belongs rather to the class of simpletonstories; and in the following, from the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles' Folk Tales of Kashmir (Trübner: 1888), we have a variant of the well-known tale of the twelve men of Gotham who went one day to fish, and, before returning home, miscounted their number, of which several analogues are given in my Book of Noodles, pp. 28 ff. (Elliot Stock: 1888): Ten peasants were standing on the side of the road weeping. They thought that one of their number had been lost on the way, as each man had counted the company, and found them nine only. "Ho! you-what's the matter?" shouted a townsman passing by. "O sir," said the peasants, "we were ten men when we left the village, but now we are only nine." The towns

man saw at a glance what fools they were: each of them had omitted to count himself in the number. He therefore told them to take off their topís (skullcaps) and place them on the ground. This they did, and counted ten of them, whereupon they concluded they were all there, and were comforted. But they could not tell how it was.

That wakefulness is not necessarily watchfulness may seem paradoxical, yet here is a Persian story which goes far to show that they are not always synonymous terms: Once upon a time (to commence in the good old way) there came into a city a merchant on horseback, attended by his servant on foot. Hearing that the city was infested by many bold and expert thieves, in consequence of which property was very insecure, he said to his servant at night: “I will keep watch, and do you sleep; for I cannot trust you to keep awake, and I much fear that my horse may be stolen." But to this arrangement his faithful servant would not consent, and he insisted upon watching all night. So the master went to sleep, and three hours after awoke, when he called to his servant: "What are you doing?" He answered: "I am meditating how Allah has spread the earth upon the water." The master said: "I am afraid lest thieves come, and you know nothing of it." "O my lord, be satisfied; I am on the watch." The merchant again went to sleep, and awaking about midnight cried: "Ho! what are you doing?" The servant

replied: “I am considering how Allah has supported the sky without pillars." Quoth the master: "But I am afraid that while you are busy meditating thieves will carry off my horse." "Be not afraid, master, I am fully awake; how, then, can thieves come?" The master replied: "If you wish to sleep, I will keep watch." But the servant would not hear of this; he was not at all sleepy; so his master addressed himself once more to slumber; and when one hour of the night yet remained he awoke, and as usual asked him what he was doing, to which he coolly answered : "I am considering, since the thieves have stolen the horse, whether I shall carry the saddle on my head, or you, sir."

Somewhat akin to the familiar "story" of the man whose eyesight was so extraordinary that he could, standing in the street, perceive a fly on the dome of St. Paul's is the tale of the Three Dervishes who, travelling in company, came to the sea-shore of Syria, and desired the captain of a vessel about to sail for Cyprus to give them a passage. The captain was willing to take them "for a consideration"; but they told him they were dervishes, and therefore without money, but they possessed certain wonderful gifts, which might be of use to him on the voyage. The first dervish said that he could descry any object at the distance of a year's journey; the second could hear at as great a distance as his brother could see. "Well!" exclaimed the captain, "these are truly

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