Ask not a man who his father was, but make trial
Of his qualities, and then conciliate or reject him accordingly
For it is no disgrace to new wine, if it only be sweet,
As to its taste, that it was the juice [or daughter] of sour grapes.

The often-quoted maxim of La Rochefoucauld, that there is something in
the misfortunes of our friends which affords us a degree of secret
pleasure, is well known to the Persians. Saádí tells us of a merchant
who, having lost a thousand dínars, cautioned his son not to mention the
matter to anyone, "in order," said he, "that we may not suffer two
misfortunes--the loss of our money and the secret satisfaction of our
neighbours."

A generous disposition is thus eloquently recommended: They asked a wise
man, which was preferable, fortitude or liberality, to which he replied:
"He who possesses liberality has no need of fortitude. It is inscribed
on the tomb of Bahram-i-Gúr that a liberal hand is preferable to a
strong arm." "Hátim Taï," remarks Saádí, "no longer exists, but his
exalted name will remain famous for virtue to eternity.[6] Distribute
the tithe of your wealth in alms, for when the husbandman lops off the
exuberant branches from the vine, it produces an increase of grapes."

[6] Hátim was chief of the Arabian tribe of Taï, shortly
before Muhammed began to promulgate Islám, renowned for
his extraordinary liberality.

Prodigality, however, is as much to be condemned as judicious liberality
is to be lauded. Saádí gives the following account of a Persian prodigal
son, who was not so fortunate in the end as his biblical prototype: The
son of a religious man, who succeeded to an immense fortune by the will