The Miller's Cloak
It blew in sheets through the door before the miller had time to close it behind him. The storm beat upon the thatched roof as if it would carry it away.
"Quick, your cloak!" cried the miller's wife. "Take it off that I may dry it by the fire!"
The good man started to obey. As he touched his cloak, however, his eyes opened wide in amazement. It was entirely dry.
"Feel it yourself!" said he to his wife. "There is not a drop of rain upon it!"
The miller's wife discovered that his words were true.
"It is a miracle of God!" cried she as she crossed herself.
There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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