reply, "Go tell your King to eat dust! I come not out of this city except at my good pleasure!" Then he sent messengers to bring up quickly some fighting and hunting cats from Khorassan—the land of the sun—to Kerman.

As soon as the cat's army was ready, the King of the Cats gave them marching orders, promising to come himself to the battle on the next day. The cats came out on horseback, each one like a hungry tiger. The mice also mounted their steeds, armed to the teeth, and boiling with rage. Shouting "Allah! Allah!" the armies fell upon each other with unsheathed swords.

So many cats and mice were killed that there was no room for the horses' feet. The cats fought valiantly, their fierce attacks carrying them through the first line of the mice, then through the second, and many Ameers and chiefs were killed. The mice, thinking the battle lost, turned to flee, crying out:

"Throw dust upon your heads, young men!"

But afterwards, rallying again, they faced their pursuers and attacked the right wing of the cat's army, shouting their battle cry of "Allah! Allah!"

In the thickest of the fray a mounted mouse speared the King of the Cats, so that he fell fainting to the ground. Before he could rise, the mouse leaped upon him and brought him captive to the King. So the cats were defeated on that day and sullenly retreated to the city of Kerman.

Having bound the cat, the mice beat him until he became unconscious. Then the plain echoed with the beating of tom-toms and shouts of joy. Then the King of the Mice seated himself on his throne and ordered the cat to be brought before him.

"Scoundrel!" he said to him, "Why hast thou eaten up my army? Hear now the King of the Mice." The cat hung his head in fear, and remained silent. After a few minutes, he said: "I am thy servant, even to death." Then the King replied:

"Carry this black-faced dog to the execution ground. I will come in person without delay to kill him in revenge for the blood of my slaughtered subjects."

So he mounted his elephant, and his guard marched proudly before him. The cat, with his hands tied together, stood weeping. Upon arriving at the execution grounds and discerning that the cat was not yet executed, the King said angrily to the hangman: "Why is it this prisoner is still alive? Hang him immediately!"

At that very moment a horseman came galloping furiously from the city and besought the King, saying: "Forgive this miserable cat; in future he will do us no harm." However, the King turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, ordering that the cat be killed at once. The mice hesitated, being unwilling, through fear, to carry out the order.

Of course, this made the King very angry. "O foolish mice!" he cried, "Ye will all take pity on the cat, in order that he may again make a sacrifice of you."

Directly the cat saw the horseman, his courage revived. With one bound he sprang from his place as does the tiger on his prey, burst his bonds asunder, and seized five unfortunate mice. The other mice, filled with dismay and terror, ran hither and thither, crying wildly:

"Allah! Allah! Shoot him! Cut off his head, as did Rastam his enemies on the day of battle!"

When the King of the Mice saw what, had happened, he fainted; whereupon the cat leaped on him, pulled off his crown, and placing the rope over his head, hanged him, so that he died immediately.

Then he darted here and there, seizing and slaying, and dashing mice to the earth, till the whole army of mice was routed, and there was none left to oppose him.

THE SON OF THE SOAP SELLER

The Son of the Soap Seller

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.

Women were filling their water jugs, or washing clothes; a string of camels were drinking; several donkeys were rolling playfully over and over in the water, and some dyers were wringing out newly-dyed garments, causing waves of many colors to flow past.

Just as Ahmed had stopped to look, a dervish, leading a fine lion by a chain, and some runners with curious hats and coats rushed past, shouting:

"Make way for the King! Turn your faces to the wall!" And there was the great King, seated on a beautiful Arabian horse, surrounded by soldiers. Then