There is yet another variant of this droll tale, which has been popular for generations throughout England, and was quite recently reproduced in an American journal as a genuine "nigger" story: In olden times there was a roguish baker who made many of his loaves less than the regulation weight, and one day, on observing the government inspector coming along the street, he concealed the light loaves in a closet. The inspector having found the bread on the counter of the proper weight, was about to leave, when a parrot, which the baker kept in his shop, cried out: "Light bread in the closet!" This caused a search to be made, and the baker was heavily fined. Full of fury, the baker seized the parrot, wrung its neck, and threw it in his back yard, near the carcase of a pig that had died of the measles. The parrot, coming to itself again, observed the dead porker and inquired in a tone of sympathy: "O poor piggy, didst thou, too, tell about light bread in the closet?" Somewhat more credible is the tale of the man who taught a parrot to say, "What doubt is there of this?" (_dur in cheh shuk_) and took it to market for sale, fixing the price at a hundred rupis. A Moghul asked the bird: "Are you really worth a hundred rupis?" to which the bird answered very readily: "What doubt is there of this?" Delighted with the apt reply, he bought the parrot and took it home; but he soon found that, whatever he might say, the bird always made the same answer, so he repented his purchase and exclaimed: "I was certainly a great fool to buy this bird!" The parrot said: "What doubt is there of this?" The Moghul smiled, and gave the bird her liberty. * * * * * Sir John Malcolm cites a good example of the ready wit of the citizens of Isfahan, in his entertaining _Sketches of Persia_, as follows: When the celebrated Haji Ibrahim was prime minister of Persia [some sixty years since], his brother was governor of Isfahan, while other members of his family held several of the first offices of the kingdom. A shop-keeper one day went to the governor to represent that he was unable to pay certain taxes. "You must pay them," replied the governor, "or leave the city." "Where can I go to?" asked the Isfahani. "To Shiraz or Kashan." "Your nephew rules in one city and your brother in the other." "Go to the Shah, and complain if you like." "Your brother the Haji is prime minister." "Then go to Satan," said the enraged governor. "Haji Merhum, your father, the pious pilgrim, is dead," rejoined the undaunted Isfahani. "My friend," said the governor, bursting into laughter, "I will pay your taxes, even myself, since you declare that my family keep you from all redress, both in this world and the next." * * * * *