each claiming her for himself; the carpenter, because he had carved her with his own hands; the goldsmith, because he had adorned her with gems; the tailor, because he had suitably clothed her; and the dervish, because he had, by his intercession, endowed her with life.  While they were thus disputing, a man came to the spot, to whom they referred the case.  On seeing the woman, he exclaimed:  “This is my own wife, whom you have stolen from me,” and compelled them to come before the kutwal, who, on viewing her beauty, in his turn claimed her as the wife of his brother, who had been waylaid and murdered in the desert.  The kutwal took them all, with the woman, before the kazi, who declared that she was his slave, who had absconded from his house with a large sum of money.  An old man who was present suggested that they should all seven appeal to the Tree of Decision, and thither they went accordingly; but no sooner had they stated their several claims than the trunk of the tree split open, the woman ran into the cleft, and on its reuniting she was no more to be seen.  A voice proceeded from the tree, saying:  “Everything returns to its first principles”; and the seven suitors of the woman were overwhelmed with shame.[45]

   [45] So, too, Boethius, in his De Consolatione Philosophiae,
        says, according to Chaucer’s translation:  “All thynges
        seken ayen to hir [i.e. their] propre course, and all
        thynges rejoysen on hir retournynge agayne to hir
        nature.”—­A tale current in Oude, and given in Indian
        Notes and Queries for Sept. 1887, is an illustration of
        the maxim that “everything returns to its first
        principles”:  A certain prince chose his friends out of
        the lowest class, and naturally imbibed their principles
        and habits.  When the death of his father placed him on
        the throne, he soon made his former associates his
        courtiers, and exacted the most servile homage from the
        nobles.  The old vazir, however, despised the young king
        and would render none.  This so exasperated him that he
        called his counsellors together to advise the most
        excruciating of tortures for the old man.  Said one:  “Let
        him be flayed alive and let shoes be made of his skin.” 
        The vazir ejaculated on this but one word, “Origin.” 
        Said the next:  “Let him be hacked into pieces and his
        limbs cast to the dogs.”  The vazir said, “Origin.” 
        Another advised:  “Let him be forthwith executed, and his
        house be levelled to the ground.”  Once more the vazir
        simply said, “Origin.”  Then the king turned to the rest,
        who declared each according to his opinion, the vazir
        noticing each with the same word.  At last a young man,
        who had not spoken hitherto, was asked.  “May it please