PROFESSOR Benfey has pointed out, in his Pancha Tantra, the resemblance between this tale—which is not found in the Seven Vazīrs—and one in the Suka Saptatī. The fate of the officious monkey finds numerous parallels in Asiatic folk-tales. For in­stance: In the story of “Ameen and the Ghool,” related to Sir John Malcolm by the Shah's Story-teller, Ameen having out­witted the monster, who sought to slay him, while he slept, by the same device as that adopted by our own hero Jack, of giant-killing renown, the ghūl, on finding his intended victim alive and hearty in the morning, fled from his den in great terror, upon which Ameen took the opportunity of escaping. He had, how­ever, only gone a short distance when he saw the ghūl returning with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by a fox. His knowledge of the cunning animal instantly led him to suspect that it had undeceived his enemy, but his presence of mind did not forsake him. “Take that,” said he to the fox, at the same time shooting him through the head. “That brute,” said he to the ghūl, “promised to bring me seven ghūls that I might chain them and carry them to Isfahān, and here he has only brought you, who are already my slave.” So saying, he advanced, but the ghūl had taken flight. (Sketches of Persia, chap. xvi.)

Another parallel is found in the Kashmīr folk-tale of “The Tiger and the Farmer's Wife:” One day a farmer went to his field to plough with his bullocks. He had just yoked them when a tiger walked up to him and saluted him; the farmer returned the salute, when the tiger said that the Lord had sent him to eat his two bullocks. The farmer promises that he will bring him a fine milch-cow instead; but his wife objects, and, putting on the farmer's best clothes, sets off, man-fashion, on the pony to where the tiger is waiting. She calls out: “I hope I may find a tiger in this field, for I have not tasted tiger's flesh since the day before yesterday, when I killed three.” The tiger, on hearing this, turns tail and flees into the jungle, where he meets a jackal, who asks him why he runs so fast. “Because a tiger-eating demon is after me.” The jackal tells him it is only a woman. But the tiger is still afraid, and the jackal and he knot their tails together, so that one should not escape at the other's expense. When the woman sees them, she calls out to the jackal: “This is very kind of you, to bring me such a fat tiger; but con­sidering how many tigers there are in your father's house, I think you might have brought me two.” Upon this, the tiger flies off in a fright, dragging the jackal after him, and the latter is killed by being bumped against the stones. (Indian Antiquary, 1882.)