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The laziness of domestics is a common complaint in this country at the present day, but surely never was there a more lazy servant than the fellow whose exploits are thus recorded:  A Persian husbandman one night desired his servant to shut the door, and the man said it was already shut.  In the morning his master bade him open the door, and he coolly replied that, foreseeing this request, he had left it open the preceding night.  Another night his master bade him rise and see whether it rained.  But he called for the dog that lay at the door, and finding his paws dry, answered that the night was fair; then being desired to see whether the fire was extinguished, he called the cat, and finding her paws cold, replied in the affirmative.—­This story had gained currency in Europe in the 13th century, and it forms one of the mediaeval Latin Stories edited, for the Percy Society, by Thos.  Wright, where it is entitled, “De Maimundo Armigero.”  There is another Persian story of a lazy fellow whose master, being sick, said to him:  “Go and get me some medicine.”  “But,” rejoined he, “it may happen that the doctor is not at home.”  “You will find him at home.”  “But if I do find him at home he may not give me the medicine,” quoth the servant.  “Then take this note to him and he will give it to you.”  “Well,” persisted the fellow, “he may give me the medicine, but suppose it does you no good?” “Villain!” exclaimed his master, out of all patience, “will you do as I bid you, instead of sitting there so coolly, raising difficulties?” “Good sir,” reasoned this lazy philosopher, “admitting that the medicine should produce some effect, what will be the ultimate result?  We must all die some time, and what does it matter whether it be to-day or to-morrow?”

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The Chinese seem not a whit behind other peoples in appreciating a good jest, as has been shown by the tales and bon mots rendered into French by Stanislas Julien and other eminent savans.  Here are three specimens of Chinese humour: 

A wealthy man lived between the houses of two blacksmiths, and was constantly annoyed by the noise of their hammers, so that he could not get rest, night or day.  First he asked them to strike more gently; then he made them great promises if they would remove at once.  The two blacksmiths consented, and he, overjoyed to get rid of them, prepared a grand banquet for their entertainment.  When the banquet was over, he asked them where they were going to take up their new abodes, and they replied—­to the intense dismay of their worthy host, no doubt:  “He who lives on the left of your house is going to that on the right; and he who lives on your right is going to the house on your left.”