A Dervise, travelling through Tartary, went into the king’s palace by
mistake, as thinking it to be a public inn, or caravansary. Having
looked about him for some time, he entered into a long gallery, where he
laid down his wallet, and spread his carpet, in order to repose himself
upon it, after the manner of the eastern nations.
He had not been long in this posture before he was discovered by some
of the guards, who asked him what was his business in that place? The
dervise told them that he intended to take up his night’s lodging in that
caravansary. The guards told him, in a very angry manner, that the house
he was in was not a caravansary, but the king’s palace. It happened that
the king himself passed through the gallery during this debate; and,
smiling at the mistake of the dervise, asked him how he could possibly be
so dull as not to distinguish a palace from a caravansary.
Sir, says the dervise, give me leave to ask your majesty a question or
two. Who were the persons that lodged in this house when it was first
built? The king replied, his ancestors. And who, says the dervise, was
the last person that lodged here? The king replied, his father. And who
is it, says the dervise, that lodges here at present? The king told him
that it was himself. And who, says the dervise, will be here after you?
The king answered, the young prince his son. “Ah, Sir,” said the dervise,
“a house that changes its inhabitants so often, and receives such a
perpetual succession of guests, is not a palace, but a caravansary.”