Sir, replies the sultaness, the third old man told his story to the genie; I cannot tell it you, because it is not come to my knowledge, but I know that it did so much exceed the two former stories in the variety of wonderful adventures that the genie was astonished at it; and no sooner heard the end of it, but he said to the third old man, I remit the other third part of the merchant's crime upon the account of your story. He is very much obliged to all three of you, for having delivered him out of this danger by your stories; without which he had not now been in the world. And, having spoken thus, he disappeared to the great contentment of the company. The merchant failed not to give his three deliverers the thanks he owed them. They rejoiced to see him out of danger; after which he bid them adieu, and each of them went on his way. The merchant returned to his wife and children, and passed the rest of his days with them in peace. But, Sir, added Scheherazade, how pleasant soever these stories may be, that I have told your majesty hitherto, they do not come near that of the fisherman. Dinarzade, perceiving that the sultaness demurred, says to her, Sister, since there is still some time remaining, pray tell us the story of the fisherman, if the sultan is willing. Schahriar agreed to it, and Scheherazade, resuming her discourse, pursued it in this manner. 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: