and have done no good by it.”—­And in the Buddhist Jatakas we find what is probably the original of a world-wide story:  A man was chopping a felled tree, when a mosquito settled on his bald head and stung him severely.  Calling to his son, who was sitting near him, he said, “My boy, there is a mosquito stinging my head, like the thrust of a spear—­drive it off.”  “Wait a bit, father,” said the boy, “and I will kill him with one blow.”  Then he took up an axe and stood behind his father’s back; and thinking to kill the mosquito with the axe, he only killed his father.

Among numerous variants is the story of the Sicilian booby, Giufa, who was annoyed by the flies, and complained of them to the judge, who told him that he was at liberty to kill a fly wherever he saw it:  just then a fly happened to alight on the judge’s nose, which Giufa observing, he immediately aimed at it so furious a blow with his fist, that he smashed his worship’s nose!

The hopelessness of attempting to impart instruction to the silly son is farther illustrated by the story in a Sinhalese collection:  A guru was engaged in teaching one of his disciples, but whilst he was teaching the youth was watching the movements of a rat which was entering its hole.  As soon as the guru had finished his teaching, he said, “Well, my son, has all entered in?” to which the youth replied, “Yes, all has entered in except the tail.”  And from the same work is the following choice example of “a happy family”:  A priest went one day to the house of one of his followers, and amongst other things he said, “Tell me now, which of your four children is the best-behaved?” The father replied, “Look, sir, at that boy who has climbed to the top of that thatched building, and is waving aloft a firebrand.  Among them all, he is the divinely excellent one.”  Whereupon the priest placed his finger on his nose, drew a deep, deep sigh, and said, “Is it indeed so?  What, then, must the other three be?”

The Turkish romance of the Forty Vazirs—­the plan of which is similar to that of the Book of Sindibad and its derivatives—­furnishes us with two stories of the same class, one of which is as follows, according to my friend Mr. Gibb’s complete translation (the first that has been made in English), recently published:[15]

They have told that in bygone times there was a king, and he had a skilful minstrel.  One day a certain person gave to the latter a little boy, that he might teach him the science of music.  The boy abode a long time by him, and though the master instructed him, he succeeded not in learning, and the master could make nothing of him.  He arranged a scale, and said, “Whatsoever thou sayest to me, say in this scale.”  So whatsoever the boy said he used to say in that scale.  Now one day a spark of fire fell on the master’s turban.  The boy saw it and chanted, “O master, I see something; shall I say it or no?” and he went over the whole scale.  Then the master chanted, “O