Called by some important business to ‘Omân on the eastern coast of Arabia, Ḥârith is about to cross the Persian Gulf, when at the moment of departure an old man begs to be taken on board, promising the ship-company in return for their kindness to him, a safe passage, by means of a magic spell in his possession against all dangers of the sea. They comply with his request, and Ḥârith is enchanted when he recognises in the stranger his old friend Abû Zayd. At first all seems to go well. Probably, however, unknown to the rest of the company, some miscreant was on board, whose presence counteracted to a certain degree Abû Zayd’s panacea, for after the voyage had continued for some time under the most promising auspices, they are suddenly overtaken by a violent storm, which forces them to seek refuge in the port of an island. When their provisions begin to run dangerously short, Abû Zayd prevails on Ḥârith to go with him on land for a foraging expedition. Soon they arrived at a magnificent mansion, whose numerous servants are found to be plunged into the utmost grief, because the lady of the house is labouring in throes of a difficult child-birth, and her life almost despaired of. Abû Zayd reassures them, pretending to have another powerful charm for the occasion. With a great display of solemnity, he writes some verses on a piece of meerschaum in which he warns the child of the evils of existence and the troubles of life awaiting it in the world, and which, with delightful humour, are supposed, according to the innate perverseness of man’s heart, to act as an irresistible inducement for it to struggle into the light of day. Wrapped in a piece of silk, and profusely perfumed, the talisman is, at his orders, tied to the limbs of the labouring woman, and this time the incantation works well, for soon the confinement is happily got over. The lord of the mansion, in his boundless joy at the birth of a long desired son, not only overwhelms Abû Zayd with costly tokens of his gratitude, but attaches him to his household, with un­limited control over all his wealth. Ḥârith tries to persuade him to continue with him the voyage, but Abû Zayd refuses point blank, paraphrasing in another piece of his charming poetry the popular saying ubi bene ibi patria, and Ḥârith reluctantly separates from him, giving vent to his grief and disappointment in a wish, the savagery of which may playfully be converted into the essence of the milk of human kindness by the indulgent reader, who remembers the drift of Abû Zayd’s magical verses, and the words of the Greek poet:

“Best for man not to be born, second best, to die as soon as he can.”

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I clung, ever since the pile under my izâr had grown black, and the down of my cheek had sprouted, to fare through the deserts on the backs of Mahrî camels, now ascending a mountain-tract, now threading my way through low­land, so as to explore the wilds whether trodden or trackless, and to get to ken the road-stations and watering-places, making the blood flow from the hoofs of horses and camels and jading the swift steeds and the fleet dromedaries. Once when I was weary of desert-travel, and some matter of importance cropped up for me at Ṣuḥâr, I inclined to cross the billowy sea and to choose the swift-sailing ship. So I removed to it my chattels, and took along with me my provisions and water-bags; then I embarked therein as embarketh the timid, who registers vows, who blames himself and would fain find excuses. Scarcely had we settled on board, and hoisted the sails for speed, when we heard from the shore of the roadstead, while the night was darkening and waxing gloomy, a caller who said: “O ye people of this strongbuilt ship, driven on the high sea, by decree of the Mighty, the All-knowing, shall I direct you unto a merchandise that will deliver you from sore torment?” (Koran lxi. 10). Then we said: “Light for us a brand from thy fire, O thou guide, and show us the right path, as the trusty friend shows the right path to the trusty friend.” He replied: “Will ye take for companion a son of the road, who carries his provisions in a basket, and whose shadow is not heavy, wishing for nought but a sleeping-place?” So we resolved to lower our wings to him, and not to be stingy in providing for his need. When he had come aboard of the ship, he said: “I take refuge with Allah from the paths of destruction.” Then he said: “We have been told in the Traditions, handed down by the doctors of divinity, that Allah, be He exalted, has not made it binding on the ignorant to learn, any more than He has made it incumbent on the learned to teach. Now I possess a charm transmitted from the Prophets, and I have an advice for you sound of proofs, which it is not in my power to conceal, nor in my nature to withhold. Ponder then my speech and take it in, and learn what you are taught so that you may teach others.” Thereupon he shouted with the shout of the boaster, exclaiming: “Know ye what it is? It is the spell of travellers, when voyaging on the sea, and the shield against anxiety, when the wave of the deep rages. By it Noah was protected from the flood, together with what was with him of animated beings, as the verses of the Koran record it.” Then after some stories he read out, and some tinselled talk he polished up, he quoted [from the Koran]: “And he said, ‘Embark ye therein: in the name of God be its course, and its riding at anchor.’” Thereupon he sighed with the sigh of those burdened with debt, or of the fervent servants of Allah, the revered ones, saying: “Behold me, I have stood amongst you in the stead of the bringer of tidings, and advised you with the advice of the zealous, and have entered with you on the path of those who guide aright, so be Thou my witness, O Allah, who art the best of witnesses.” Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Then his eloquent discourse, conspicuous by its beauty, made us wonder, and our voices were raised to him in recitation. But my heart had from the sound of his voice a tinkling of knowledge of the true nature of his sun. So I said to him: “By Him who holds in bondage the fathomless sea, art thou not the Serûji?” He replied: “Aye, and how could the son of brightness remain hidden?” Forthwith I praised my voyage, and revealed my own self since he had revealed his, and we ceased not sailing, while the sea was smooth, and the sky serene, and life pleasant, and our time a sport, and while I was delighted with meeting him, as the rich delights in his ingot of gold, and rejoiced in his converse, as the drowning man rejoices at being saved, until on a sudden the south wind blew fierce, and the sides [of the ship] bent [groaned], and the travellers forgot what had been, and the waves rushed against them from every quarter. Therefore we veered, on account of this recent calamity, towards one of the islands, to give rest [to our ship] and to rest ourselves, until the wind should calm down. The obstacle to our travelling on, however, continued, so that the provisions dwindled to a mere pittance. Then Abû Zayd said to me: “Look here, the gathering from the tree is not obtained by sitting still: so hast thou a mind to rouse our luck by going on land?” I replied to him: “Lo, I follow thee closer than thy shadow, and wait on thee more obediently than thy shoon.” Accordingly we descended upon the island, despite the failing of our strength, to run the chase after provender, though neither of us twain owned a scrap, or was able to find a way in it, but we proceeded to scout within, and to seek shade in its shady places, until we came upon a lofty castle, with an iron gate, and a troupe of slaves in front. These we accosted, that we might make them a ladder to help us up, and a rope to draw water with, but we found every one of them mournful, deep in grief, so that we fancied them utterly broken or dragged into captivity. So we said to them: “O ye slave-boys, what is this sorrow?” But they answered not our call, and spoke not either fair or foul. When we saw that their fire was the fire of the glow­worm, and their state as the mirage of the deserts, we said: “May their faces wax unsightly, and out upon the churl, and him who hopes aught of him!” Then hastened forward a servant whom old age had visited and weeping overcome, saying: “O ye folks, increase not our distress, and pain us not with reproach, for we are truly in sore anguish and in evil plight that makes us listless of talk.” Said Abû Zayd to him: “Relieve thy choking sorrow, and speak out if thou have the power to speak, for thou wilt find at my hand a com­petent leech and a healing prescriber.” He said: “Know thou, that the lord of this castle is the pole-star of this place, and the Shâh of this territory. Withal he is not free from grief on account of his being childless. So he ceased not paying honour to the seed-fields and selecting from the partners of his couch the most exquisite, until he was hailed with the happy tidings of the pregnancy of a noble lady, and his palm-tree gave promise of a shoot. Then vows were vowed in his behalf, and the days and months were counted, and when the time of delivery had come, and necklace and crownlet [for the adornment of the child] were fashioned, the throes of child-birth were severe, and fear was conceived for root and branch; therefore there is none of us who knows rest or tastes sleep save by snatches.” Then he burst out weeping and wailed aloud, and repeatedly called on Allah unto whom we shall return. Thereupon Abû Zayd said to him: “Be still, O such a one, and of good cheer, and receive news of joy and proclaim them, for I possess a spell for child­birth, the fame of which is spread abroad amongst man­kind.” Forthwith the slaves hastened to their master, announcing each other the release from their calamity, when it took no longer than to say “nay,” that one sallied out who summoned us to him, and as soon as we had entered unto him, and were standing in his presence, he said to Abû Zayd: “For sooth thy reward will prosper thee if thy say is true and thy presage fails not.” Abû Zayd bade them bring a mended reed-pen, and some meerschaum, and some saffron macerated in pure rose-water. In a breath’s time they brought what he had asked for. Then he prostrated himself, rubbing his cheeks in the dust, and said praise to Allah, whose forgiveness he craved, bidding those present to stand off, and keeping them at a distance. Then he took the pen with a mighty show of fuss, and wrote upon the meerschaum with the saffron-solution: