the way with me, and I
wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village.
But the fellow is such a fool that I cannot make anything out of him.
He wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. The man must
be mad!" and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter.

"Father," said the farmer's daughter, who was a very sharp and wise
girl, "this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. He only
wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him."

"Oh, of course," replied the farmer. "I see. Well, perhaps you can
help me to solve some of his other mysteries. While we were walking
together he asked whether he should carry me or I should carry him, as
he thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding."

"Most assuredly," said the girl; "he meant that one of you should tell
a story to beguile the time."

"Oh yes. Well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me
whether it was eaten or not."

"And didn't you know the meaning of this, father? He simply wished to
know if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field
was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to
him; that is, it would have to go to his creditors."

"Yes, yes, yes, of course! Then, on entering a certain village, he
bade me take his clasp-knife and get two horses with it, and bring
back the knife to him."

"Are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one
along on the road? He only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be
careful not to lose his knife."

"I see," said the farmer. "While we were walking over the city we
did not see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of
anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some
people called to us and put into our hands some _chapatis_ and
_kulchas_, so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the
cemetery a city."

"This also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city
as the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable
people as worse than the dead. The city, though crowded with people,
was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery,
which is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and
provided with bread."

"True, true!" said the astonished farmer. "Then, just now, when we
were crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his
shoes and pajamas."

"I admire his wisdom," replied the gi