cup, which Was her own property.  The Samradian remarked:  “Thou hast given me water instead of wine.”  “It is only ideal,” she answered; “there was no wine in existence.”  The husband then said:  “Thou hast spoken well; give me the cup that I may go to a neighbour’s house and bring it back full of wine.”  He thereupon took the gold cup and went out and sold it, concealing the money, and, instead of the gold vase, he brought back an earthen vessel filled with wine.  The wife, on seeing this, said:  “What hast thou done with the golden cup?” He quietly replied:  “Thou art surely thinking of an ideal gold cup,” on which the lady sorely repented her witticism.[35]

   [35] The Dabistan, or School of Manners.  Translated from
        the original Persian, by David Shea and Anthony Troyer.
        3 vols.  Published by the Oriental Translation Fund,
        1843.  Vol. i, 198-200.  The author of this work is said
        to be Moshan Fani, who flourished at Hyderabad about the
        end of the 18th century.

I do not know whether there are any English parallels to these stories, but I have read of a Greek sage who instructed his slave that all that occurred in this world was the decree of Fate.  The slave shortly after deliberately committed some offence, upon which his master commenced to soften his ribs with a stout cudgel, and when the slave pleaded that it was no fault of his, it was the decree of Fate, his master grimly replied that it was also decreed that he should have a sound beating.

* * * * *

In Don Quixote, it will be remembered by all readers of that delightful work, Sancho begins to tell the knight a long story about a man who had to ferry across a river a large flock of sheep, but he could only take one at a time, as the boat could hold no more.  This story Cervantes, in all likelihood, borrowed from the Disciplina Clericalis of Petrus Alfonsus, a converted Spanish Jew, who flourished in the 12th century, and who avowedly derived the materials of his work from the Arabian fabulists—­probably part of them also from the Talmud.[36] His eleventh tale is of a king who desired his minstrel to tell him a long story that should lull him to sleep.  The story-teller accordingly begins to relate how a man had to cross a ferry with 600 sheep, two at a time, and falls asleep in the midst of his narration.  The king awakes him, but the story-teller begs that the man be allowed to ferry over the sheep before he resumes the story.[37]—­Possibly the original form of the story is that found in the Katha Manjari, an ancient Indian story-book:  There was a king who used to inquire of all the learned men who came to his court whether they knew any stories, and when they had related all they knew, in order to avoid rewarding them, he abused them for knowing so few, and sent them away.  A shrewd and clever man, hearing of this, presented himself before the king, who asked