Nasrudin hired a porter to carry his acquisitions home from market. As the two men were climbing the rocky slope to his door, the porter slipped and rolled down the mountainside, screaming.

“Thank you, Allah, for your mercy!” Nasrudin called out, stretching his arms heavenward.

“How can you thank Allah for allowing a man to fall to his death?” asked his wife, who had seen the horrifying accident. “I am not thanking him for killing the porter: I am thanking him for the fact that I had not paid the unfortunate man.
If I had, my money would have joined my groceries at the bottom of the ravine.”