The next Gothamite tale also finds its counterpart in the Gaelic stories:  There was a man of Gotham who bought at Nottingham a trivet, or brandiron, and as he was going home his shoulders grew sore with the carriage thereof, and he set it down; and seeing that it had three feet, he said, “Ha! hast thou three feet, and I but two?  Thou shalt bear me home, if thou wilt,” and set himself down thereupon, and said to the trivet, “Bear me as long as I have borne thee; but if thou do not, thou shalt stand still for me.”  The man of Gotham did see that his trivet would not go farther.  “Stand still, in the mayor’s name,” said he, “and follow me if thou wilt.  I will tell thee right the way to my home.”  When he did come to his house, his wife said, “Where is my trivet?” The man said, “He hath three legs, and I have but two; and I did teach him the way to my house.  Let him come home if he will.”  “Where left ye the trivet?” said the woman.  “At Gotham hill,” said the man.  His wife did run and fetch home the trivet her own self, or else she had lost it through her husband’s wit.

In Campbell’s version a man having been sent by his wife with her spinning-wheel to get mended, as he was returning home with it the wind set the wheel in motion, so he put it down, and bidding it go straight to his house, set off himself.  When he reached home, he asked his wife if the spinning-wheel had arrived yet, and on her replying that it had not, “I thought as much,” quoth he, “for I took the shorter way.”

A somewhat similar story is found in Riviere’s French collection of tales of the Kabail, Algeria, to this effect:  The mother of a youth of the Beni-Jennad clan gave him a hundred reals to buy a mule; so he went to market, and on his way met a man carrying a water-melon for sale.  “How much for the melon?” he asks.  “What will you give?” says the man.  “I have only got a hundred reals,” answered the booby; “had I more, you should have it.”  “Well,” rejoined the man, “I’ll take them.”  Then the youth took the melon and handed over the money.  “But tell me,” says he, “will its young one be as green as it is?” “Doubtless,” answered the man, “it will be green.”  As the booby was going home, he allowed the melon to roll down a slope before him.  It burst on its way, when up started a frightened hare.  “Go to my house, young one,” he shouted.  “Surely a green animal has come out of it.”  And when he got home, he inquired of his mother if the young one had arrived.

In the Gooroo Paramartan there is a parallel incident to this last.  The noodles are desirous of providing their Gooroo with a horse, and a man sells them a pumpkin, telling them it is a mare’s egg, which only requires to be sat upon for a certain time to produce a fine young horse.  The Gooroo himself undertakes to hatch the mare’s egg, since his disciples have all other matters to attend to; but as they are carrying it through a jungle, it falls down and splits into pieces; just then a frightened hare runs before them; and they inform the Gooroo that, a fine young colt came out of the mare’s egg, with very long ears, and ran off with the speed of the wind.  It would have proved a fine horse for their revered Gooroo, they add; but he consoles himself for the loss by reflecting that such an animal would probably have run away with him.