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The story of the Unlucky Slippers in Cardonne’s Melanges de Litterature Orientale is a very good specimen of Arabian humour:[32]

   [32] Cardonne took this story from a Turkish work entitled
        “Aja’ib el-ma’asir wa ghara’ib en-nawadir (the Wonders
        of Remarkable Incidents and Rarities of Anecdotes),” by
        Ahmed ibn Hemdem Khetkhody, which was composed for
        Sultan Murad IV, who reigned from A.D. 1623 to 1640.

In former times there lived in the famous city of Baghdad a miserly old merchant named Abu Kasim.  Although very rich, his clothes were mere rags; his turban was of coarse cloth, and exceedingly dirty; but his slippers were perfect curiosities—­the soles were studded with great nails, while the upper leathers consisted of as many different pieces as the celebrated ship Argos.  He had worn them during ten years, and the art of the ablest cobblers in Baghdad had been exhausted in preventing a total separation of the parts; in short, by frequent accessions of nails and patches they had become so heavy that they passed into a proverb, and anything ponderous was compared to Abu Kasim’s slippers.  Walking one day in the great bazaar, the purchase of a large quantity of crystal was offered to this merchant, and, thinking it a bargain, he bought it.  Not long after this, hearing that a bankrupt perfumer had nothing left to sell but some rose-water, he took advantage of the poor man’s misfortune, and purchased it for half the value.  These lucky speculations had put him into good humour, but instead of giving an entertainment, according to the custom of merchants when they have made a profitable bargain, Abu Kasim deemed it more expedient to go to the bath, which he had not frequented for some time.  As he was undressing, one of his acquaintances told him that his slippers made him the laughing-stock of the whole city, and that he ought to provide himself with a new pair.  “I have been thinking about it,” he answered; “however, they are not so very much worn but they will serve some time longer.”  While he was washing himself, the kazi of Baghdad came also to bathe.  Abu Kasim, coming out before the judge, took up his clothes but could not find his slippers—­a new pair being placed in their room.  Our miser, persuaded, because he wished it, that the friend who had spoken to him about his old slippers had made him a present, without hesitation put on these fine ones, and left the bath highly delighted.  But when the kazi had finished bathing, his servants searched in vain for his slippers; none could be found but a wretched pair, which were at once identified as those of Abu Kasim.  The officers hastened after the supposed thief, and, bringing him back with the theft on his feet, the kazi, after exchanging slippers, committed him to prison.  There was no escaping from the claws of justice without money, and, as Abu Kasim was known to be very rich, he was fined in a considerable sum.