The Ettrick Shepherd’s well-known story of the two Highlanders and the wild boar has its exact parallel in the Turkish jest-book, as follows:  One day the Khoja went with his friend Sheragh Ahmed to the den of a wolf, in order to take the cubs.  Said the Khoja to Ahmed, “Do you go in, and I will watch without;” and Ahmed went in, to take the cubs in the absence of the old wolf.  But she came back presently, and had got half-way into her den when the Khoja seized hold of her tail.  The wolf in her struggles cast up a great dust into the eyes of Ahmed, who called out to the Khoja, “Hallo! what does all this dust mean?” The Khoja replied, “If the wolf’s tail breaks, you will soon know what the dust means!”

Several of the jests closely resemble “Joe Millers” told of Irishmen, such as this:  It happened one night, after the Khoja and a guest had lain down to sleep, that the taper went out.  “O Khoja Effendi,” said the guest, “the taper is gone out.  But there is a taper at your right side.  Pray bring it and let us light it.”  Quoth the Khoja, “You must surely be a fool to think that I should know my right hand in the dark.”  And this:  A thief having stolen a piece of salted cheese from the Khoja, he ran immediately and seated himself on the border of a fountain.  Said the people to him, “O Khoja, what have you come here to look for in such a hurry?” The Khoja replied, “The thief will certainly come here to drink as soon as he has eaten my salted cheese; I always do so myself.”

And here is one of the Gothamite class:  One evening the Khoja went to the well to draw water, and seeing the moon reflected in the water, he exclaimed, “The moon has fallen into the well; I must pull it out.”  So he let down the rope and hook, and the hook became fastened to a stone, whereupon he exerted all his strength, and the rope broke, and he fell upon his back.  Looking into the sky, he saw the moon, and cried out joyfully, “Praise be to Allah!  I am sorely bruised, but the moon has got into its place again.”

There is a well-worn jest of an Irishman who, being observed by a friend to look exceedingly blank and perplexed, was asked what ailed him.  He replied that he had had a dream.  “Was it a good or a bad dream?” “Faith,” said he, “it was a little of both; but I’ll tell ye.  I dreamt that I was with the Pope, who was the finest gentleman in the whole district; and after we had conversed a while, his Holiness axed me, Would I drink?  Thinks I to myself, ‘Would a duck swim?’ So, seeing the whisky and the lemons and the sugar on the side-board, I said, I didn’t mind if I took a drop of punch.  ‘Cold or hot?’ says his Holiness.  ’Hot, your Holiness,’ says I. So on that he steps down to the kitchen for the boiling water, but, bedad, before he came back, I woke straight up; and now it’s distressing me that I didn’t take it cold!”

We have somewhat of a parallel to this in a Turkish jest:  The Khoja dreamt that some one gave him nine pieces of money, but he was not content, and said, “Make it ten.”  Then he awoke and found his hands empty.  Instantly closing his eyes again, and holding out his hand, he said, “I repent; give me the nine pieces[3].”