Mecca. In the Greek version of Simeon Seth, on the other hand, he has become a decided monk or hermit; to accommo.. date him ablutions are turned into penance, and sometimes the translator renders Arabic phrases by literal quotations from the Scriptures. Not content with this, Simeon Seth sometimes makes all the animals talk Homerically, and parodies, in this way, entire hexameters from the Iliad or the Odyssey. In the story here given, however, there are no decidedly religious characters; they are animals purely natural, unsophisticated, unindoctrinated, and presenting only an amiable and natural morality. It is selected for its purity of diction, its beautiful simplicity of narration, and as having a convenient measure of extent between the longer and the shorter pieces.

The translation from the Arabic is made as idiomatic and as colloquial as possible, whilst, at the same time, faithful to the spirit of the words as well as to the exact truth of the thought. It is entitled,

BAB ALHAMAMAT ALMOTAWWAKAT,

that is,

CHAPTER OF THE RING-DOVE.

Said Dabschelim, the king, to Bidpai the philosopher: I have heard from you the story of the two friends, and how a liar made division between them, and all how the matter ended; now tell me, if you know any story of the kind, about true and constant friends, and how their friendship commenced, and how they mutually helped each other. Said the philosopher, The truly wise man will regard nothing as of equal account with friends; for they are helpers in prosperity, and consolers in adversity; and among the histories to this effect is that of the ring-dove, and the field-mouse, and the deer, and the raven. How was that? said the king. They say, said Bidpai, that in the land of Sakawindajina there was a certain city by the name of Daher, and near that city a place abounding in game, to

which huntsmen were constantly resorting. Now there was in this place a tree with numerous limbs, and thick covering leaves, and in this tree a raven had his nest. It happened then, one day, as the raven was settling into his nest, that, lo and behold, a huntsman made his appearance. A vile-looking fellow he was, and of most evil intent. On his shoulder he carried his net and in his hand a staff. As he drew nigh the tree, the raven was terribly frightened. Surely, said he, this man comes here for my destruction, or the destruction of my neighbors; and so I will remain quietly in my place, until I see what he is about. Then the huntsman fixed his net, and when he had spread the grain upon it, and hid himself close by, he had to wait but a very short time, when, lo and behold, there passed by a dove called the ring-dove, and with her a great many other doves. As neither she nor her companions saw the net, they fell upon the grain, and began to pick it up, when suddenly the net closed and had them all as fast as a locked door. The huntsman was coming up with great joy, when all the doves began to struggle in the cords, each one seeking only his own freedom. Hold, said the ring-dove; do not thus defeat your own effort, by being each one of you more concerned for himself than for his neighbor; but let us all help, and all pull together upon the net, and we shall every one escape. Then they all pulled together, each one helping the other, and up they went into the air, net and all. The huntsman, however, did not despair of catching them; for he thought that they would only go a short distance before dropping down. Now, says the raven, will I follow on and see what becomes of these fellows. Just then the ringdove turned short round, and saw the huntsman following. Here he comes, said she; he is close after us. Now if we take the way of the open country, it will be impossible for us tc escape his eye, and he will keep right on in pursuit; but if we go the way of the fields and forests, he will lose sight

of us and turn back. There is a certain place where lives a field-mouse, a very dear friend of mine, and if we can only reach it, he will gnaw the net for us. They followed the advice, and the huntsman turned back in despair; but the raven followed on. When the ringdove found that they had come to the place of the field-mouse, she bid them settle down. Now the mouse had a great many holes as places of refuge in dangerous times; and when the dove called him by name-for his name was Zirak-he answered her from one of these holes. Who are you, and where do you come from? I am your friend, said the ring-dove. Then the mouse came up very promptly. What brought you into this trouble? said he. Don't you know, said the dove, that nothing befalls one, whether of good or of evil, except by the decree of the Fates? That is what brought us into this trouble; for there is no escaping the Fates, either for great or small; even the sun suffers eclipse, and the moon, too, when the Fates have so decreed for them. Then the mouse began to cut the knot which was near the ring-dove, when the latter cried out, Begin with the others, and after that come to me. This she had to repeat many times before the mouse paid any attention to it. Why, how is this, he said at last, that you seem to have no pity or care for yourself? Says the ring-dove, I fear lest, if you begin with me, you may become weary, and give up before doing it for the rest; whilst I know very well that, should you be ever so tired, you would never leave me in the net. Ah, said the mouse, that is the very thing that makes me love you so. Then he went on with his work until he had finished it all, when out went the dove and all her companions with her.

Now the raven had watched this proceeding of the mouse, and it produced in him a great desire for his friendship and further acquaintance. So he called, Mousy! Mousy! until out came the little head. What do you want? said the mouse. Your friendship and acquaintance, said he. There can be none

between us, replied the mouse; for one who is wise should only seek that for which nature has made a way, and ever avoid the contrary. Now, you are a devourer, and I am your meat; there can be no true friendship between us. Not so, said the raven; though the mouse is my meat, as you say, I could never have any satisfaction in eating you. Your friendship is all the more dear to me notwithstanding what you have said; and when I thus seek it, you ought not to repel me. There is something so good and clever about you, that I cannot help loving you; you are so modest, too, and make so little show of your merits. But surely one who is wise should not seek to hide his excellency; for virtue is like musk; conceal it as you will, nothing can prevent the spread of its fragrant odor. Be that as it may, said the mouse, there is no stronger enmity than that of nature, and of this there are two kinds. One of them is the mutual, such as that which exists between the lion and the elephant; for sometimes the lion kills the elephant, and sometimes the elephant kills the lion; the other is the one-sided enmity, such as that which exists between me and the cat, or between me and thee; for it never hurts you, whilst the pain and damage ever return to me. It is like water; make it ever so hot, that does not prevent its quenching the fire. He who has such an enemy, and rashly comes to terms with him, is like a man who carries a serpent in his sleeve; and one who is wise will, of all things, avoid every approach to familiarity with a shrewd and crafty foe. I understand you, said the raven; yet such is the goodness of your disposition, that you ought to perceive the sincerity of my words, and not be hard upon me, or say that there can be no friendship between us; for the wise seek not recompense for kindness, and friendship with the virtuous is quick to form, slow to break. It is like a golden pitcher, hard to fracture, and easy to be repaired should it get a dent or a bruise. So, too, the friendships of the bad are quick to break,

Should there be such a one, I could very easily cut his acquaintance.

slow to form; resembling in this the earthen pitcher, easy to crack with the slightest injury, and then past all mending. The noble love the noble; the vile love no one except in appearance, through desire of gain or fear of harm. But I have need of thy love and kindness, because thou art generous, and I stand at thy gate resolved to take no food until you receive me as a friend and brother. Said the field-mouse, I accept your brotherhood, for I can repel no one from his urgent need; but I began this talk, as I did, that I might assure myself in acting prudently, and that you might never have it to say, should you do me harm, that you found the mouse quick to be deceived. Then he went out of his inner hole and stood by the entrance. What hinders you from coming clear out? said the raven; and why do you not treat me with more familiarity? Have you some doubt remaining, after all? There are two things, said the mouse, in respect to which the people of the world mutually give and take, and hold friendly intercourse. These are the soul and the hand. Some give to cach other of their souls; these are the real hearty friends, pure and true. Those who give of the hand only, they are, indeed, helpers to each other, yet do they desire, each one, their own profit. Now he who acts on these worldly principles of gain, is like the huntsman who spreads grain for the birds, with no desire for any good of the birds, but all for his own. But the giving of the soul goes far beyond the giving of the hand, and that is what I have ventured to do to thee; I have given to thee my very soul-my life. Nothing now prevents my going wholly out, but one thought that occurs to me. You know very well that you have companions, other ravens, of a nature like your own, but without your thought and purpose; I am afraid of them. But, said the raven, surely it is a sign of friendship that one should be a friend to his friend's friend, and a foe to his friend's foc; and there is no friend of mine, I am certain, who will not love you.

Then went forth the field-mouse to the raven, and they gave each other the hand, and pledged a pure friendship. They became, too, very familiar with each other, and after some time had passed, says the raven to the mouse, You live too near the roadside, and I am afraid that some of the boys may hit you with stones; but if you will go with me, I know of a very retired place, where lives one of the tortoise family, a very good friend of mine, who feeds on fish, and where we, too, will find every thing we may want to eat. Suppose that I take you along, that we may live there in all security. There is one thing I have not mentioned, says the mouse; I know a good many curious stories that you will be delighted to hear when we get to that quiet place; so take me along, and I will do whatever you may wish. Then the raven took up the field-mouse by the tail, and flew with him until they reached the spot. When they came to the spring where the tortoise lived, she looked out from the water, and behold! the raven carrying the mouse by the tail. Not seeing, at first, that it was her friend, she was greatly frightened at so strange a sight. Then the raven called to her; upon which she went out, and asked him, What is the matter, and where do you come from? So he told her the whole story-how he had followed the doves, and the matter of the field-mouse, and all about it until they came to that very place. When the tortoise had heard the whole affair, she greatly admired the good sense and integrity of the raven's little friend, and after she had courteously saluted him, began to ask him many questions about his coming there. Now, says the raven to the mouse, since we are in this quiet place, it is a good time to tell us some of those stories you spoke of, besides answering the questions the tortoise has put to you concerning the events of your life; for she stands to you the same as I Then the mouse began as follows: One of the first things in my experience was

Are

my living in the house of a very pious man who led a recluse life, with no family or servants about him, and who had every day given to him a basket of provisions. Of this he would eat what he wanted, and hang up the remainder. I used to watch the recluse until he went out, when I would leap up to the basket, and eat away until I had devoured what was in it, except what I threw down to the other mice who had gathered round. Many a time did the hermit do his best to hang the basket out of my reach, but never succeeded, until once upon a time a travelling guest asked lodging for the night, when they two sat down and ate their supper together. After that they began to converse; when the hermit asked his guest from what part of the world he came, and where are you going now, and so on. The man had passed through distant regions, and seen many curious things, and while he was telling them, the hermit suddenly clapped his hands to scare me away from the basket. What is that? said the traveller. you making sport of me, after asking me to relate my adventures? The hermit begged his pardon, and said it was that wicked mouse; his audacity is astonishing; I can leave nothing in the house but he eats it all up. Said the traveller, One mouse do all that! There must be a good many of them, I think. True, replied the hermit, my hut is pretty well stocked with them; but there is one in particular who beats me in every effort I make to catch him at his tricks. That puts me in mind, replied the traveller, of what the man said to the woman who sold good sifted sesame for that which was unsifted. And how was that? said the hermit. Once upon a time, said the traveller, I lodged with a man in a certain place, and after we had supped, they spread a bed for me in a room adjoining that in which my host slept with his wife. There being but a thin partition of reeds between us, I heard the man say, just before daylight, that he thought of inviting a few friends to dinner. So make ready for them, said he to the

woman. What business, replied she, have you to give such an invitation, when there is hardly enough in the house for your own family? You know, too, that you are one who never lays up any thing. Don't trouble yourself about that, says the man; we will just give them what we have. As for this laying up that you talk of, no good comes of it; it is very apt to turn out as it did with the saving wolf. How was that? said the wife. They say, replied the man,* that once upon a time a huntsman went out with his bow and arrows, and had not gone far before he shot a gazelle. He laid it upon his shoulders, and was carrying it home, when lo, a wild boar crossed his way. The huntsman sent an arrow that pierced the boar, but did not prevent his rushing upon him, and striking him with his tusks. The bow flew out of his hands and both fell dead together. As it happened, just at that time there came along a wolf. Aha! says the grim creature, here is a man, and a deer, and a wild hog, all together; I shall have meat enough for a long time. It is best, however, to be saving; so I will begin with this leather bow-string; the gnawing of that will do for one meal. He was very busy with the string, when it suddenly snapped, and the horn of the bow springing back struck him a killing blow upon the throat. So he died, too; and all this came from saving and laying up. I have told you the story that you may know that all such hoard

*These parentheses, or stories within stories, often occur, sometimes involved to the third or fourth power. They belong to the humor of this old composition; but they become, occasionally, so complicated, that the reader is puzzled in determining their application. Sometimes they seem quite mal à propos, unless they may be regarded as designed to show that the wise animals can now and then say things without purpose, or talk nonsense, as well as men. It is not very casy here to see the exact point in the mouse's version of the traveller's story about the sesame, though the meaning of the comical wolf-parenthesis is pretty clear. And so we may say of some parts of mousic's moralizing in what follows. Very good in itself, but seeming to have little to do with the story, unless we may suppose it intended, by Bidpai, as a quiet satire upon commonplace experiences, and prosy moral reflections upon them, belonging, as they do, to the earliest as well as to the latest times.

ing is apt to come to a bad end. Very well, said the wife, that may be true what you say, and I will do my best; there may be in the house enough rice and sesame to make a dinner for six or seven persons, and in the morning I will get it ready; so invite whom you please. When the morning came, the wife took the sesame, and sifted it, and spread it in the sun to dry, and told the boy to keep off the birds and the dogs. It so happened, however, that, when she was very busy, the boy became careless, and lo, a dog came along and stuck his nose in the meal. This made it profane, and unfit for use. So she took it to the market, and bargained with it for other sesame that had never been sifted, measure for measure. That was the time-for. I was standing in the market-when I heard one say: There is some secret about this woman's proceedings, or she never would have sold sifted meal for unsifted. Now this is what I said to you before, resumed the traveller, in his talk with the hermit, and that is what I have to say about this jumping mouse. You may depend upon it, there is some mystery about him, some secret cause that enables him to perform these feats of which you complain. Now, bring me an axe, and I will make a search for his hole, and find out the way he does the thing. So the hermit procured an axe, which the guest took, and began his search. It so happened that at that time, when I heard them say this, I was in my other hole. In the one that I usually occupied there had been lying a purse of a hundred dinars-how they came there I never knew-and so the guest kept on his hunt until he came upon the money. Aha! said he to the hermit, here is the secret of the mouse's performances; this is what gives him power to make such leaps; he never could have done it if it had not been for the dinars; for it is money, you must know, that gives strength, and increase of wisdom, and ability of all sorts. Now you will see, after this, if he shall be able to leap as

he did before.* When morning came, all the other mice gathered round me, complaining of hunger, and calling me their only hope; and so I went on, and they with me, to the usual place from which I was wont to leap at the basket; but it was all over with me. I tried my best, once and again, but could never reach it. Thus my loss of power became evident to them, and I heard them saying, Let us abandon him, for we shall never more get our living through his means; he is not the one we took him for; he has become poor, and wants a provider like the rest of us. So they left me, and joined my enemies, and abused me every way, and told stories about me, and persecuted me, until I said to myself: Such is the way of the world; brothers, helpers, friends, all fail when money fails. Thus I found that one who has no money becomes utterly destitute in all things. He is like the water which the winterrains leave stagnant in the waddies; it runs into no stream, it flows to no place; it only sinks lower and lower, until the dry earth drinks it up. I found, too, that as one who has no friends has no people, and as one who. has no child has no memorial, so he who has no money loses all reputation for wisdom; he has no share in this world; he is regarded as having but little to expect from the world to come; for let him become poor, and friends and brothers all cut his acquaintance. Like a tree that grows in the desert, plucked on every side, such is the condition of one who has become destitute, and stands in need of what is abundantly possessed by others. And

*We see from this how old is the inductive philosophy. This traveller was a true Baconian; cum hoc propter hoc, or post hoc propter hoc, was his motto. The dinars were there all the time of the mouse's jumping; they were an invariable concomitant--a "co-cause," or, at least, an "occasion,”— and there must be some connection between them and the constant event with which they coincided. No other causation was visible; these were the "hard facts;" and so the traveller's examination might be called a "crucial experiment;" whilst the fact of the mouse's ceasing to leap verified it beyond doubt.

The Arabic idiom here is precisely the same with our own.