Once there was in Bagdad an honest and hard-working farmer named Cressin. He looked after his cattle with great care. He used sharp implements to till the ground and manured his fields every year. The result was that his land yielded him abundant crop.
‘Cressin’s simple and idle neighbours could not account for his wonderful produce. They grew jealous of him and accused him of his supposed sorcery before the justiciar.
“My lord, this man knows magic”, they said, “that’s why his fields yield more and our fields less. So with equal lands we are wretched and miserable.”
The farmer was brought before the justiciar. Cressin said, “My lord, I know no magic. Behold this comely damsel, my daughter. She is my fellow-labourer. Behold these implements of husbandry, these ploughs and oxen. Come with me to my fields and see how they are tilled, how manured, how weeded and how watered! This is the magic I use.”
The simple words of the farmer had their effects on the wise justiciar. He rewarded Cressin for his honest labour and said to others angrily, “Go, and learn the magic.”
