On the Excellence of Contentment
STORY CXI
I heard about a wealthy man who was as well known for his avarice as Hâtim Tâi for his liberality. Outwardly he displayed the appearance of wealth, but inwardly his sordid nature was so dominant that he would not for his life give a morsel of bread to anyone, or bestow a scrap upon the kitten of Abu Harirah,[1] or throw a bone to the dog of the companions of the cave.[2] In short, no one had seen the door of his house open or his table-cloth spread.
The Dervish got nothing of his food except the smell;
The fowl picked up the crumbs after his bread-dinner.
I heard that he was sailing in the Mediterranean with the pride of Pharao in his head-according to the words of the Most High: 'Until drowning overtook him'[3]-when all of a sudden a contrary wind befell the ship, as it is said, 'What can thy heart do to thy distressed nature, for the wind is not fair; it is not at all times suitable for a ship.'
He uplifted the hands of supplication and began to lament in vain; but Allah the Most High has commanded: 'When they said in a ship they call upon Allah, sincerely exhibiting unto Him their religion.'[4]
Of what use is the hand of supplication to a needy worshipper, which is uplifted to God in the time of prayer, but in the armpit in the time of bounty.
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