Cleverly proving that a princess with a necklace can frustrate the
intentions of a Ghool, and that every king should have
near his person the owner of a crystal cup.
HERE once dwelt a poor but worthy man named Abdullah in Meshed, the Holy City, the place of pilgrimage, whose beautiful mosque with the golden dome is the glory of the kingdom of Persia. He barely managed to get a living by the sale of soap.
All day long, from sunrise to sunset, he tramped the city, crying out: "O brothers, buy my pure soap. There is none better in the city, as every one knows. Even the little babes would say so if they could but speak."
Still, if you looked closely at it, you would never guess it to be soap; it was black and coarse, and more like wood than anything else. If any unlucky pilgrim used it on his face or hands, it would make his skin burn like fire. But this did not often happen, for the people in Persia do not use much soap on themselves, or their clothes, and sand does very well for cleaning cooking pots and pans. So it was that there were many days when poor Abdullah did not sell enough to buy sufficient bread for himself and his little boy Ahmed.
At such times, the father would creep sadly into his wretched mud- built hovel, and bury his face in his hands, so that he might not see his son trying to keep back the tears caused by hunger. The little fellow, however, now ten years of age, would comfort his father by saying:
"Inshallah"—if God wills—"to-morrow you will sell more soap than you have done for weeks past." And the father, looking into the bright, open face of his boy, would take courage, and pray that this might be so.
But the days went on and things became blacker and blacker, when one day an adventure befell little Ahmed. He was on his way to school, and as the sun was very hot, he sought the shelter of the big plane-trees that lined the banks of the stream flowing down the center of the principal street.
