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Story of Ali Colia, Merchant of Bagdad by Unknown

(Contd. from page 5...)

In great haste he went back to the house of the merchant. "My friend," he cried, "you will be astonished to see me again, but I can find nowhere in this vase a thousand pieces of gold that I placed in the bottom under the olives. Perhaps you may have taken a loan of them for your business purposes; if that is so you are most welcome. I will only ask you to give me a receipt, and you can pay the money at your leisure."

The merchant, who had expected something of the sort, had his reply all ready. "Ali Cogia," he said, "when you brought me the vase of olives did I ever touch it?"

"I gave you the key of my shop and you put it yourself where you liked, and did you not find it in exactly the same spot and in the same state? If you placed any gold in it, it must be there still. I know nothing about that; you only told me there were olives. You can believe me or not, but I have not laid a finger on the vase."

Ali Cogia still tried every means to persuade the merchant to admit the truth. "I love peace," he said, "and shall deeply regret having to resort to harsh measures. Once more, think of your reputation. I shall be in despair if you oblige me to call in the aid of the law."

"Ali Cogia," answered the merchant, "you allow that it was a vase of olives you placed in my charge.

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Did you know?
The Mughal Emperor Jahangir died while travelling from Kashmir to Lahore in 1626.

Heh Heh Heh...
Mommy's Way
A man went to the store with his 3-year-old daughter in tow. Since he was
just there to grab some essentials like milk and bread, he opted to save
some time by not pushing a cart around the store.
"That's not the way Mommy does it," his daughter informed him.
"I know, dear, but Daddy's way is OK, too," he replied.
Leaving the store in the rain and without a cart, he carried the bag of
groceries, his daughter, and the milk quickly to the car. Not wanting to set
anything down on the wet ground, he set the jug of milk on top of the car,
efficiently whisked open the car door with his now free hand, scooted the
groceries in and set his daughter into the car seat in one swift motion.
Then he hopped in himself.
"That's not the way Mommy does it," his daughter informed him again.
"Honey, there's more than one way to do things," he replied patiently.
"Daddy's way is OK, too."
As they pulled out and headed down the street, he became aware of the
scraping sound on the roof as the jug of milk slid down the length of the
rooftop, bounced off the trunk of the car and splattered to the ground,
sending a froth of white milk in every direction.
In the millisecond he took to process his mistake, his young daughter looked
at him, and in a most serious voice said, "That's NOT the way Mommy does
it."

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