the reason why the fish laughed.  He desired time to think over the matter and learned from the conversation of a rakshasi with her children that the fish said to himself, “All the king’s wives are dissolute, for in every part of his harem there are men dressed up as women, and nevertheless while those escape, an innocent Brahman is to be put to death;” and this tickled the fish so that he laughed.  Mr. Tawney says that Dr. Liebrecht, in “Orient und Occident,” vol. i. p. 341, compares this story with one in the old French romance of Merlin.  There Merlin laughs because the wife of Julius Caesar had twelve young men disguised as ladies-in-waiting.  Benfey, in a note on Liebrecht’s article, compares with the story of Merlin one by the Countess d’Aulnois, No. 36 of Basile’s “Pentamerone,” Straparola, iv. 1, and a story in the “Suka Saptati.”  In this some cooked fish laugh so that the whole town hears them; the reason being the same as in the above story and in that of Merlin.  In a Kashmiri version, which has several other incidents and bears a close resemblance to No. 4 of M. Legrand’s “Recueil de Contes Populaires Grecs,” to the story of “The Clever Girl” in Professor T. F. Crane’s “Italian Popular Tales,” and to a fable in the Talmud, the king requires his vazir to inform him within six months why the fish laughed in presence of the queen.  The vazir sends his son abroad until the king’s anger had somewhat cooled—­for himself he expects nothing but death.  The vazir’s son learns from the clever daughter of a farmer that the laughing of the fish indicates that there is a man in the palace unknown to the king.  He hastens home and tells his father the secret, who at once communicates it to the king.  All the female attendants in the palace are called together and ordered to jump across the mouth of a pit which he has caused to be dug:  the man would betray his sex in the trial.  Only one person succeeded and he was found to be a man.[FN#413] Thus was the queen satisfied, and the faithful old vazir saved, and his son, of course, married the farmer’s clever daughter.

Prince Ahmad and the Peri Banu—­p. 256.

How, in the name of all that is wonderful—­how has it happened that this ever-delightful tale is not found in any text of The Nights?  And how could it be supposed for a moment that Galland was capable of conceiving such a tale—­ redolent, as it is, of the East and of Fairyland?  Not that Fairyland where “True Thomas,” otherwise ycleped Thomas the Rymer, otherwise Thomas of Erceldoune, passed several years in the bewitching society of the Fairy Queen, years which appeared to him as only so many moments:  but Eastern Fairyland, with all its enchanting scenes; where priceless gems are as plentiful as “autumnal leaves which strong the brooks in Vallombrosa;” where, in the royal banqueting hall, illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, in candelabra of the finest amber and the purest crystal are bands of charming damsels, fairest of form and