We have already seen that even the grave and otiose Turk is not devoid of a sense of the ludicrous, and here is another example, from Mr. E. J. W. Gibb's translation of the _History of the Forty Vezirs_: A party of Turkmans left their encampment one day and went into a neighbouring city. Returning home, as they drew near their tents, they felt hungry, and sat down and ate some bread and onions at a spring-head. The juice of the onions went into their eyes and caused them to water. Now the children of those Turkmans had gone out to meet them, and, seeing the tears flow from their eyes, they concluded that one of their number had died in the city, so, without making any inquiry, they ran back, and said to their mothers: "One of ours is dead in the city, and our fathers are coming weeping." Upon this all the women and children of the encampment went forth to meet them, weeping together. The Turkmans who were coming from the city thought that one of theirs had died in the encampment; and thus they were without knowledge one of the other, and they raised a weeping and wailing together such that it cannot be described. At length the elders of the camp stood up in their midst and said: "May ye all remain whole; there is none other help than patience"; and they questioned them. The Turkmans coming from the city asked: "Who is dead in the camp?" The others replied: "No one is dead in the camp; who has died in the city?" Those who were coming from the city, said: "No one has died in the city." The others said: "For whom then are ye wailing and lamenting?" At length they perceived that all this tumult arose from their trusting the words of children. This last belongs rather to the class of simpleton-stories; and in the following, from the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles' _Folk Tales of Kashmir_ (Truebner: 1888), we have a variant of the well-known tale of the twelve men of Gotham who went one day to fish, and, before returning home, miscounted their number, of which several analogues are given in my _Book of Noodles_, pp. 28 ff. (Elliot Stock: 1888): Ten peasants were standing on the side of the road weeping. They thought that one of their number had been lost on the way, as each man had counted the company, and found them nine only. "Ho! you--what's the matter?" shouted a townsman passing by. "O sir," said the peasants, "we were ten men when we left the village, but now we are only nine." The townsman saw at a glance what fools they were: each of them had omitted to count himself in the number. He therefore told them to take off their _topis_ (skull-caps) and place them on the ground. This they did, and counted ten of them, whereupon they concluded they were all there, and were comforted. But they could not tell how it was. * * * * *