The unfortunate parent wept, and then smilingly replied: “Dear child! Although I was stronger than the dog, I restrained my anger. Should I receive a sword-blow on the head, I could not apply my teeth to the legs of a dog.” One can revenge oneself upon the mean, but a man cannot act like a dog. STORY OF A KIND MASTER AND HIS DISOBEDIENT SLAVE An eminent man, famous for his many virtues, possessed a slave of evil disposition, who in ugliness of feature surpassed every one in the city. He closely attended his master at meal-times, but he would not have given a drop of water to a dying man. Neither reproof nor the rod influenced him; the house was in a constant state of disorder through him. Sometimes, in his bad temper, would he litter the paths with thorns and rubbish; at other times, throw the chickens down the well. His unhappy temperament was written on his face, and never did he perform a task successfully. Some one asked his master: “What is there that thou likest in this slave—his agreeable manners, or his skill, or beauty? Surely, it is not worth while to keep such an unruly knave and burden thyself with such an affliction. I will procure for thee a slave of handsome appearance and good character. Take this one to the slave-market and sell him. If a pice is offered for him, do not refuse it, for he would be dear at that.” The good-natured man smiled and said: “O friend! Although the character of my slave is certainly bad, my character is improved by him, for when I have learned to tolerate his manner I shall be able to put up with anything at the hands of others. It were not humane to sell him and thus make known his faults. And it is better to endure his affliction myself than to pass him on to others.” Accept for thyself what thou wouldst accept for others. If distressed thyself, involve not thy fellows. Forbearance is at first like poison, but when engrained in the nature it becomes like honey. STORY OF MARŪF KARCHI[22] AND THE SICK TRAVELLER No one follows the path of Marūf Karchi who does not first banish the idea of fame from his head. A traveller once came to Marūf’s house at the point of death—his life was joined to his body by a single hair. He passed the night in wailing and lamentation, sleeping not himself nor permitting any one else to sleep by reason of his groans. His mind was distressed and his temper was vile; though he died not himself, he killed many by his fretting. Such was his restlessness that every one flew from him. Marūf Karchi alone remained. He, like a brave man, girt his loins and sat up many nights in attendance at the sick man’s bedside. But one night Marūf was attacked by sleep—how long can a sleepless man keep up? As soon as the invalid saw him asleep he began to rave: “Cursed be thy abominable race!” he cried: “what knows this glutton, intoxicated with sleep, of the helpless man who has not closed his eyes?”