THE STORY OF THE FISHERMAN.

Sir—­There was a very ancient fisherman, so poor, that he could scarcely earn enough to maintain himself, his wife, and three children.  He went every day to fish betimes in a morning; and imposed it as a law upon himself, not to cast his nets above four times a-day.  He went one morning by moon-light, and, coming to the sea-bank, undressed himself, and cast in his nets.  As he drew them towards the shore, he found them very heavy, and thought he had got a good draught of fish, at which he rejoiced within himself; but, in a moment after, perceiving that, instead of fish, there was nothing in his nets but the carcase of an ass, he was mightily vexed.  Scheherazade stopped here, because she saw it was day.

Sister, says Dinarzade, I must confess that the beginning of this story charms me, and I foresee that the result of it will be very agreeable.  There is nothing more surprising than the story of this fisherman, replied the sultaness, and you will be convinced of it next night, if the sultan will be so gracious as to let me live.  Schahriar, being curious to hear the success of such an extraordinary fishing, would not order Scheherazade to be put to death that day.

The Ninth Night.

My dear sister, cries Dinarzade, next morning at the usual hour, if you be not asleep, I pray you to go on with the story of the fisherman; I am ready to die till I hear it.  I am willing to give you that satisfaction, says the sultaness; but at the same time she demanded leave of the sultan, and, having obtained it, began again as follows: 

Sir, when the fisherman, vexed to have made such a sorry draught, had mended his nets, which the carcase of the ass had broken in several places, he threw them in a second time; and when he drew them, found a great deal of resistance, which made him think he had taken abundance of fish; but he found nothing except a pannier full of gravel and slime, which grieved him extremely.  O Fortune! cries he, with a lamentable tone, do not be angry with me, nor persecute a wretch who prays thee to spare him.  I came hither from my house to seek for my livelihood, and thou pronouncest death against me.  I have no other trade but this to subsist by; and, notwithstanding all the care I take, I can scarcely provide what is absolutely necessary for my family.  But I am in the wrong to complain of thee; thou takest pleasure to persecute honest people, and to leave great men in obscurity, whilst thou showest favour to the wicked, and advancest those who have no virtue to recommend them.

Having finished this complaint, he threw away the pannier in a fret, and washing his nets from the slime, cast them the third time, but brought up nothing except stones, shells, and mud.  Nobody can express his disorder; he was within an ace of going quite mad.  However, when day began to appear, he did not forget to say his prayers like a good Mussulman, and afterwards added this petition:  “Lord, you know that I cast my net only four times a day; I have already drawn them three times, without the least reward for my labour:  I am only to cast them once more; I pray you to render the sea favourable to me, as you did to Moses.”