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Page 59
"It is not the voice of a native songster," said the Khoja demurely,
"but the foreign nightingale sings so."
_Tale_ 16.--The Khoja's Donkey and The Woollen Pelisse.
One day the Khoja mounted his donkey to ride to the garden, but on the
way there he had business which obliged him to dismount and leave the
donkey for a short time.
When he got down he took off his woollen pelisse, and throwing it over
the saddle, went about his affairs. But he had hardly turned his back
when a thief came by who stole the woollen pelisse, and made off with
it.
When the Khoja returned and found that the pelisse was gone, he became
greatly enraged, and beat the donkey with his stick. Then, dragging the
saddle from the poor beast's back, he put it on his own shoulders,
crying, "Find my pelisse, you careless rascal, and then you shall have
your saddle again!"
_Tale_ 17.--A Ladder To Sell.
There was a certain garden into which the Khoja was desirous to enter,
but the gate was fastened, and he could not.
One day, therefore, he took a ladder upon his shoulder, and repaired to
the place, where he put the ladder against the garden-wall, and having
climbed to the top, drew the ladder over, and by this means descended
into the garden.
As he was prying about in came the gardener.
"Who are you?" said he to the Khoja. "And what do you want?"
"I sell ladders," replied the Khoja, running hastily back to the wall,
and throwing the ladder once more upon his shoulders.
[Illustration: THE KHOJA TRESPASSES.]
"Come, come!" said the gardener, "that answer will not do. This is not a
place for selling ladders."
"You must be very ignorant," replied the Khoja gravely, "if you do not
know that ladders are salable anywhere."
_Tale_ 18.--The Cat and the Khoja's Supper.
The Khoja, like many another man, was fond of something nice for his
supper.
But no matter how often he bought a piece of liver to make a tasty dish,
his wife always gave it away to a certain friend of hers, and when the
Khoja came home in the evening he got nothing to eat but cakes.
"Wife," said he at last, "I bring home some liver every day that we may
have a good supper, and you put nothing but pastry before me. What
becomes of the meat?"
"The cat steals it, O Khoja!" replied his wife.
On this the Khoja rose from his seat, and taking the axe proceeded to
lock it up in a box.
"What are you doing with the axe, Khoja?" said his wife.
"I am hiding it from the cat," replied the Khoja. "The sort of cat who
steals two pennyworth of liver is not likely to spare an axe worth forty
pence."
_Tale_ 19.--The Cadi's Ferejeh.
One day a certain Cadi of Sur-Hissar, being very drunk, lay down in a
garden and fell asleep. The Khoja, having gone out for a walk, passed
by the spot and saw the Cadi lying dead drunk and senseless, with his
ferejeh--or overcoat--half off his back.
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