and in the other water;
and the bird ate of that, and drank of this. 'That', said I, 'is a
sufficient warning for me; I renounce the world.' And then I did not
quit the door of divine mercy till I was let in."

Having been denounced by his enemies to the Caliph Mutawakkil of Bagdad,
he was summoned from Egypt to appear before him. On entering into his
presence, he addressed a pious exhortation to the Caliph, who shed
tears, and dismissed him honourably. After this, whenever men of piety
were spoken of before the Caliph, he would weep and say, "Speaking of
pious men, let me have Zu'n Nun."

At Cairo, however, Zu'n Nun did not come off so easily. He openly
rebuked the vices of the inhabitants, and especially of the local
governors, who caused him to be beaten and imprisoned. "All this is as
nothing, so I be not separated from thee, O my God," was his exclamation
while dragged through the crowded street with blows and insults by the
soldiers of the garrison.

Zu'n Nun related the following story of himself. "One day I saw a
beautiful palace on the bank of a river where I was performing my
devotions. On the roof of this palace I perceived a lovely maiden.
Curious of learning who she was, I approached and asked her the name of
her master. She answered, 'O Zu'n Nun when you were still a great way
off, I took you for a madman, when you came nearer, for a religious man,
when you came still nearer, for one of the initiated. I now perceive
that you are neither mad, nor religious, nor initiated. If you had been
mad, you would not have engaged in religious exercises; if you had been
religious, you would not have looked at a person whom you ought not to
approach; if you had been initiated, nothing would have drawn your
attention away from God.' So saying, she disappeared. I then recognised
that she was no mortal, but an angel."

[20]Zu'n Nun relates that he heard his spiritual teacher Schakran
recount the following story. "When I was young, I lived on the eastern
bank of the Nile, near Cairo, and gained my livelihood by ferrying
passengers across to the western side. One day, as I was sitting in my
boat near the river edge, an aged man presented himself before me; he
wore a tattered robe, a staff was in his hand, and a water-skin
suspended from his neck. 'Will you ferry me over for the love of God?'
said he. I answered, 'Yes.' 'And will you fulfil my commission for the
love of God?' 'Yes.' Accordingly, I rowed him across to the