{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5666/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5666","id":"gutenberg_5666","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5666","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales","Tales -- Arab countries"],"text":"The \"Aldine\" Edition of\n\n               The Arabian Nights Entertainments\n\n                   Illustrated by S. L. Wood\n\n              FROM THE TEXT OF DR. JONATHAN SCOTT\n\n                        In Four Volumes\n\n                            Volume 3\n\n\n                             London\n                      Pickering and Chatto\n                              1890\n\n\n\n\n\n                    Contents of Volume III.\n\n\n\nThe Story of Beder, Prince of Persia, and Jehaunara, Prince of\n     Samandal, or Summunder\nThe History of Prince Zeyn Alasnam and the Sultan of the Genii\nThe History of Codadad, and His Brothers\n     The History of the Princess of Deryabar\nThe Story of Abu Hassan, or the Sleeper Awakened\nThe Story of Alla Ad Deen; Or, the Wonderful Lamp\nAdventure of the Caliph Haroon Al Rusheed\n     The Story of Baba Abdoollah\n     The Story of Syed Naomaun\n     The Story of Khaujeh Hassan Al Hubbaul\nThe Story of Ali Aba and the Forty Robbers Destroyed by a Slave\nThe Story of Ali Khujeh, a Merchand of Bagdad\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF BEDER, PRINCE OF PERSIA, AND\n              JEHAUN-ARA, PRINCESS OF SAMANDAL, OR\n                           SUMMUNDER.\n\n\n\nPersia was an empire of such vast extent, that its ancient\nmonarchs, not without reason, assumed the haughty title of King\nof kings. For not to mention those subdued by their arms, there\nwere kingdoms and provinces whose kings were not only tributary,\nbut also in as great subjection as governors in other nations are\nto the monarchs.\n\nOne of these kings, who in the beginning of his reign had\nsignalized himself by many glorious and successful conquests,\nenjoyed so profound a peace and tranquillity, as rendered him the\nhappiest of princes. The only point in which he thought himself\nunfortunate was, that amongst all his wives, not one had brought\nhim a son; and being now far advanced in years, he was desirous\nof an heir. He had above a hundred ladies, all lodged in separate\napartments, with women-slaves to wait upon and eunuchs to guard\nthem; yet, notwithstanding all his endeavours to please their\ntaste, and anticipate their wishes, there was not one that\nanswered his expectation. He had women frequently brought him\nfrom the most remote countries; and if they pleased him, he not\nonly gave the merchants their full price, but loaded them with\nhonours and benedictions, in hopes that at last he might be so\nhappy as to meet with one by whom he might have a son. There was\nscarcely an act of charity but he performed, to prevail with\nheaven. He gave immense sums to the poor, besides large donations\nto the religious; building for their use many noble colleges\nrichly endowed, in hopes of obtaining by their prayers what he so\nearnestly desired.\n\nOne day, according to the custom of his royal predecessors,\nduring their residence in their capital, he held an assembly of\nhis courtiers, at which all the ambassadors and strangers of\nquality about the court were present; and where they not only\nentertained one another with news and politics, but also by\nconversing on the sciences, history, poetry, literature, and\nwhatever else was capable of diverting the mind. On that day a\neunuch came to acquaint him with the arrival of a certain\nmerchant from a distant country, who, having brought a slave with\nhim, desired leave to shew her to his majesty. \"Give him\nadmittance instantly,\" said the king, \"and after the assembly is\nover I will talk with him.\" The merchant was introduced, and\nseated in a convenient place, from whence he might easily have a\nfull view of the king, and hear him talk familiarly to those that\nstood near his person. The king observed this rule to all\nstrangers, in order that by degrees they might grow acquainted\nwith him; so that, when they saw with what freedom and civility\nhe addressed himself to all, they might be encouraged to talk to\nhim in the same manner, without being abashed at the pomp and\nsplendour of his appearance, which was enough to deprive those of\ntheir power of speech who were not used to it. He treated the\nambassadors also after the same manner. He ate with them, and\nduring the repast asked them several questions concerning their\nhealth, their journey, and the peculiarities of their country.\nAfter they had been thus encouraged, he gave them audience.\n\nWhen the assembly was over, and all the company had retired, the\nmerchant, who was the only person left, fell prostrate before the\nking's throne, with his face to the earth, wishing his majesty an\naccomplishment of all his desires As soon as he arose, the king\nasked him if the report of his having brought a slave for him was\ntrue, and whether she were handsome.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the merchant, \"I doubt not but your majesty has\nmany very beautiful women, since you search every corner of the\nearth for them; but I may boldly affirm, without overvaluing my\nmerchandise, that you never yet saw a woman that could stand in\ncompetition with her for shape and beauty, agreeable\nqualifications, and all the perfections that she is mistress of.\"\n\"Where is she?\" demanded the king; \"bring her to me instantly.\"\n\"Sire,\" replied the merchant, \"I have delivered her into the\nhands of one of your chief eunuchs; and your majesty may send for\nher at your pleasure.\"\n\nThe fair slave was immediately brought in; and no sooner had the\nking cast his eyes on her, but he was charmed with her beautiful\nand easy shape. He went directly into a closet, and was followed\nby the merchant and a few eunuchs. The fair slave wore, over her\nface, a red satin veil striped with gold; and when the merchant\nhad taken it off, the king of Persia beheld a female that\nsurpassed in beauty, not only his present ladies, but all that he\nhad ever had before. He immediately fell passionately in love\nwith her, and desired the merchant to name his price.\n\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"I gave a thousand pieces of gold to the person\nof whom I bought her; and in my three years' journey to your\ncourt, I reckon I have spent as much more: but I shall forbear\nsetting any price to so great a monarch; and therefore, if your\nmajesty likes her, I humbly beg you would accept of her as a\npresent.\" \"I am highly obliged to you,\" replied the king; \"but it\nis never my custom to treat merchants, who come hither for my\npleasure, in so ungenerous a manner; I am going to order thee ten\nthousand pieces of gold; will that be sufficient?\" \"Sire,\"\nanswered the merchant, \"I should have esteemed myself happy in\nyour majesty's acceptance of her; yet I dare not refuse so\ngenerous an offer. I will not fail to publish your liberality in\nmy own country, and in every place through which I may pass.\" The\nmoney was paid; and before he departed, the king made him put on\na rich suit of cloth of gold.\n\nThe king caused the fair slave to be lodged in the apartment next\nhis own, and gave particular orders to the matrons, and the\nfemale slaves appointed to attend her, that after bathing they\nshould dress her in the richest habit they could find, and carry\nher the finest pearl necklaces, the brightest diamonds, and other\nrichest precious stones, that she might choose those she liked\nbest.\n\nThe officious matrons, whose only care was to please the king,\nwere astonished at her beauty; and being good judges, they told\nhis majesty, that if he would allow them but three days, they\nwould engage to make her so much handsomer than she was at\npresent, that he would scarcely know her again. The king could\nhardly prevail with himself to delay so long the pleasure of\nseeing her, but at last he consented.\n\nThe king of Persia's capital was situated in an island; and his\npalace, which was very magnificent, was built on the shore: his\napartment looked on the water; the fair slave's, which was near\nit, had also the same prospect, and was the more agreeable, on\naccount of the sea's beating almost against the walls.\n\nAt the three days' end, the fair slave, magnificently dressed,\nwas alone in her chamber, sitting on a sofa, and leaning against\none of the windows that faced the sea, when the king, being\ninformed that he might visit her, came in. The slave, hearing\nsomebody walk in the room with an air quite different from that\nof the female slaves, who had hitherto attended her, immediately\nturned her head about to see who it was. She knew him to be the\nking, but without discovering the least surprise, or so much as\nrising from her seat to salute or receive him, as if he had been\nthe most indifferent person in the world, she put herself in the\nsame posture again.\n\nThe king of Persia was extremely surprised to see a slave of so\nbeauteous a form so ignorant of the world. He attributed this to\nthe narrowness of her education, and the little care that had\nbeen taken to instruct her in the first rules of civility. He\nwent to her at the window, where, notwithstanding the coldness\nand indifference with which she had received him, she suffered\nherself to be admired, caressed, and embraced, as much as he\npleased.\n\nIn the midst of these amorous embraces and tender endearments,\nthe king paused awhile, to gaze upon, or rather to devour her\nwith his eyes. \"My lovely fair one! my charmer!\" exclaimed he;\n\"whence came you, and where do those happy parents live who\nbrought into the world so surprising a masterpiece of nature? How\ndo I love thee, and shall always continue to do. Never did I feel\nfor a woman what I now feel for you; and though I have seen, and\nevery day behold a vast number of beauties, yet never did my eyes\ncontemplate so many charms in one person--charms which have so\ntransported me, that I shall entirely devote myself to you. My\ndearest life,\" continued he, \"you neither answer, nor by any\nvisible token give me the least reason to believe that you are\nsensible of the demonstrations I have given you of the ardour of\nmy passion; neither will you turn your eyes on me, to afford mine\nthe pleasure of meeting them, and to convince you that it is\nimpossible to love in a higher degree than I do you. Why will you\nstill preserve this obstinate silence, which chills me, and\nwhence proceeds the seriousness, or rather sorrow, that torments\nme to the soul? Do you mourn for your country, your friends or\nyour relations? Alas! Is not the king of Persia, who loves and\nadores you, capable of comforting you, and making you amends for\nevery loss?\"\n\nNotwithstanding all the protestations of love the king of Persia\nmade the fair slave, and all he could say to induce her to speak\nto him, she remained unaltered; and keeping her eyes still fixed\nupon the ground, would neither look at him, nor utter a word.\n\nThe king of Persia, delighted with the purchase he had made of a\nslave that pleased him so well, pressed her no farther, in hopes\nthat by treating her kindly he might prevail upon her to change\nher behaviour. He clapped his hands; and the women who waited in\nan outward room entered: he commanded them to bring in supper.\nWhen it was arranged, \"My love,\" said he to the slave, \"come\nhither and sup with me.\" She rose from her seat; and being seated\nopposite the king, his majesty helped her, before he began eating\nhimself; and did so of every dish during supper. The slave ate as\nwell as the king, but still with downcast eyes, and without\nspeaking a word; though he often asked her how she liked the\nentertainment, and whether it was dressed according to her taste.\n\nThe king, willing to change the conversation, asked her what her\nname was, how she liked the clothes and the jewels she had on,\nwhat she thought of her apartment and the rich furniture, and\nwhether the prospect of the sea was not very agreeable? But to\nall these questions she made no reply; so that the king was at a\nloss what to think of her silence. He imagined at first, that she\nmight perhaps be dumb: \"But then,\" said he to himself, \"can it be\npossible that heaven should forge a creature so beautiful, so\nperfect, and so accomplished, and at the same time with so great\nan imperfection? Were it however so, I could not love her with\nless passion than I do.\" When the king of Persia rose, he washed\nhis hands on one side, while the fair slave washed hers on the\nother. He took that opportunity to ask the woman who held the\nbasin and napkin, if ever they had heard her speak. One of them\nreplied, \"Sire, we have neither seen her open her lips, nor heard\nher speak any more than your majesty has; we have rendered her\nour services in the bath; we have dressed her head, put on her\nclothes, and waited upon her in her chamber; but she has never\nopened her lips, so much as to say, that is well, or I like this.\nWe have often asked her, \"Madam, do you want anything? Is there\nanything you wish for? Do but ask, and command us,\" but we have\nnever been able to draw a word from her. We cannot tell whether\nher sorrow proceeds from pride, sorrow, stupidity, or dumbness.\"\n\nThe king was more astonished at hearing this than he had been\nbefore: however, believing the slave might have some cause of\nsorrow, he was willing to endeavour to divert and amuse her.\nAccordingly he appointed a very splendid assembly, which all the\nladies of the court attended; and those who were skilful in\nplaying upon musical instruments performed their parts, while\nothers sung or danced, or did both together: they played at all\nsorts of games, which much diverted the king. The fair slave was\nthe only person who took no pleasure in these attempts to amuse\nher; she never moved from her place, but remained with her eyes\nfixed on the ground with so much indifference, that all the\nladies were not less surprised than the king. After the assembly\nwas over, every one retired to her apartment; and the king was\nleft alone with the fair slave.\n\nThe next morning the king of Persia rose more pleased than he had\nbeen with all the women he had seen before, and more enamoured\nwith the fair slave than ever. Indeed, he soon made it appear, by\nresolving henceforth to attach himself to her alone; and\nperformed his resolution. On the same day he dismissed all his\nother women, giving every one of them their jewels, and other\nvaluables, besides a considerable fortune, with free leave to\nmarry whom they thought fit; and only kept the matrons and a few\nother elderly women to wait upon the fair slave. However, for a\nwhole year together, she never afforded him the pleasure of one\nsingle word; yet the king continued his assiduities to please\nher, and to give her the most signal proofs of sincere love.\n\nAfter the expiration of the year, the king sitting one day by his\nmistress, protested to her that his love, instead of being\ndiminished, grew every day more violent. \"My queen,\" said he, \"I\ncannot divine what your thoughts are; but nothing is more true,\nand I swear to you, that having the happiness of possessing you,\nthere remains nothing for me to desire. I esteem my kingdom,\ngreat as it is, less than an atom, when I have the pleasure of\nbeholding you, and of telling you a thousand times that I adore\nyou. I desire not that my words alone should oblige you to\nbelieve me. Surely you can no longer doubt of my devotion to you\nafter the sacrifice which I have made to your beauty of so many\nwomen, whom I before kept in my palace. You may remember it is\nabout a year since I sent them all away; and I as little repent\nof it now, as I did the moment of their departure; and I never\nshall repent. Nothing would be wanting to complete my happiness\nand crown my joy, would you but speak one single word to me, by\nwhich I might be assured that you thought yourself at all\nobliged. But how can you speak to me if you are dumb? and alas! I\nfeel but too apprehensive that this is the case. How can I doubt,\nsince you still torment me with silence, after having for a whole\nyear in vain supplicated you to speak? If it is possible for me\nto obtain of you that consolation, may heaven at least grant me\nthe blessing of a son by you, to succeed me. I every day find\nmyself growing old, and I begin already to want one to assist me\nin bearing the weight of my crown. Still I cannot conceal the\ndesire I have of hearing you speak; for something within me tells\nme you are not dumb: and I beseech, I conjure you, dear madam, to\nbreak through this long silence, and speak but one word to me;\nafter that I care not how soon I die.\"\n\nAt this discourse the fair slave, who, according to her usual\ncustom, had hearkened to the king with downcast eyes, and had\ngiven him cause to believe not only that she was dumb, but that\nshe had never laughed, began to smile. The king of Persia\nperceived it with a surprise that made him break forth into an\nexclamation of joy; and no longer doubting but that she was going\nto speak, he waited for that happy moment with an eagerness and\nattention that cannot easily be expressed\n\nAt last the fair slave thus addressed herself to the king: \"Sire,\nI have so many things to say to your majesty, that, having once\nbroken silence, I know not where to begin. However, in the first\nplace, I think myself bound to thank you for all the favours and\nhonours you have been pleased to confer upon me, and to implore\nheaven to bless and prosper you, to prevent the wicked designs of\nyour enemies, and not suffer you to die after hearing me speak,\nbut to grant you a long life. After this, sire, I cannot give you\ngreater satisfaction than by acquainting you that I am with\nchild; and I wish, as you do, it may be a son. Had it never been\nmy fortune to be pregnant, I was resolved (I beg your majesty to\npardon the sincerity of my intention) never to have loved you,\nand to have kept an eternal silence; but now I love you as I\nought to do.\"\n\nThe king of Persia, ravished to hear the fair slave not only\nspeak, but tell him tidings in which he was so nearly concerned,\nembraced her tenderly. \"Staining light of my eyes,\" said he, \"it\nis impossible for me to receive greater delight than you have now\ngiven me: you have spoken to me, and you have declared your being\nwith child, which I did not expect. After these two occasions of\njoy I am transported out of myself.\"\n\nThe king of Persia, in the transport of his feelings, said no\nmore to the fair slave. He left her, but in such a manner as made\nher perceive his intention was speedily to return: and being\nwilling that the occasion of his joys should be made public, he\ndeclared it to his officers, and sent for the grand vizier. As\nsoon as he came, he ordered him to distribute a thousand pieces\nof gold among the holy men of his religion, who made vows of\npoverty; as also among the hospitals and the poor, by way of\nreturning thanks to heaven: and his will was obeyed by the\ndirection of that minister.\n\nAfter the king of Persia had given this order, he returned to the\nfair slave again. \"Madam,\" said he, \"pardon me for leaving you so\nabruptly, since you have been the occasion of it; but I hope you\nwill indulge me with some conversation, since I am desirous to\nknow of you several things of much greater consequence. Tell me,\nmy dearest soul, what were the powerful reasons that induced you\nto persist in that obstinate silence for a whole year together,\nthough every day you saw me, heard me talk to you, ate and drank\nwith me, and every night slept with me? I shall pass by your not\nspeaking; but how you could carry yourself so as that I could\nnever discover whether you were sensible of what I said to you or\nno, I confess, surpasses my understanding; and I cannot yet\ncomprehend how you could contain yourself so long; therefore I\nmust conclude the occasion of it to be very extraordinary.\"\n\n\"To satisfy the king of Persia's curiosity,\" replied the lady,\n\"think whether or no to be a slave, far from my own country,\nwithout any hopes of ever seeing it again, to have a heart torn\nwith grief, at being separated forever from my mother, my\nbrother, my friends, and my acquaintance, are not these\nsufficient reasons for the silence your majesty has thought so\nstrange and unaccountable?\n\nThe love of our native country is as natural to us as that of our\nparents; and the loss of liberty is insupportable to everyone who\nis not wholly destitute of common sense, and knows how to set a\nvalue on it. The body indeed may be enslaved, and under the\nsubjection of a master, who has the power and authority in his\nhands; the will can never be conquered, but remains free and\nunconfined, depending on itself alone, as your majesty has found\nin my case; and it is a wonder that I have not followed the\nexample of many unfortunate wretches, whom the loss of liberty\nhas reduced to the melancholy resolution of procuring their own\ndeaths in a thousand ways, by a liberty which cannot be taken\nfrom them.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the king, \"I am convinced of the truth of what\nyou say; but till this moment I was of opinion, that a person\nbeautiful, of good understanding, like yourself, whom her evil\ndestiny had condemned to be a slave, ought to think herself very\nhappy in meeting with a king for her master.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the lady, \"whatever the slave be, as I have\nalready observed to your majesty, there is no king on earth can\ntyrannize over her will. When indeed you speak of a slave\nmistress of charms sufficient to captivate a monarch, and induce\nhim to love her; if she be of a rank infinitely below him, I am\nof your opinion, she ought to think herself happy in her\nmisfortunes: still what happiness can it be, when she considers\nherself only as a slave, torn from a parent's arms, and perhaps\nfrom those of a lover, her passion for whom death only can\nextinguish; but when this very slave is in nothing inferior to\nthe king who has purchased her, your majesty shall judge yourself\nof the rigour of her destiny, her misery and her sorrow, and to\nwhat desperate attempts the anguish of despair may drive her.\"\n\nThe king of Persia, astonished at this discourse, \"Madam,\" said\nhe, \"can it be possible that you are of royal blood, as by your\nwords you seem to intimate? Explain the whole secret to me, I\nbeseech you, and no longer augment my impatience. Let me\ninstantly know who are the happy parents of so great a prodigy of\nbeauty; who are your brothers, your sisters, and your relations;\nbut, above all, tell me your name?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said the fair slave, \"my name is Gulnare of the Sea: and\nmy father, who is dead, was one of the most potent monarchs of\nthe ocean. When he died, he left his kingdom to a brother of\nmine, named Saleh, and to the queen, my mother, who is also a\nprincess, the daughter of another puissant monarch of the sea. We\nenjoyed profound peace and tranquillity through the whole\nkingdom, till a neighbouring prince, envious of our happiness,\ninvaded our dominions with a mighty army; and penetrating as far\nas our capital, made himself master of it; and we had but just\ntime to save ourselves in an impenetrable and inaccessible place,\nwith a few trusty officers, who did not forsake us in our\ndistress.\n\n\"In this retreat my brother was not negligent in contriving means\nto drive the unjust invaders from our dominions. One day taking\nme into his closet, 'Sister,' said he, 'the events of the\nsmallest undertakings are always dubious. For my own part, I may\nfail in the attempt I design to make to recover my kingdom; and I\nshall be less concerned for my own disgrace than what may\npossibly happen to you. To secure you from all accident, I would\nfain see you married. But in the present miserable condition of\nour affairs, I see no probability of matching you to any of the\nprinces of the sea; and therefore I should be glad if you would\nconcur in my opinion, and think of marrying one of the princes of\nthe earth. I am ready to contribute all that lies in my power\ntowards accomplishing this; and am certain there is not one of\nthem, however powerful, but, considering your beauty, would be\nproud of sharing his crown with you.'\n\n\"At this discourse of my brother's, I fell into a violent\npassion. 'Brother,' said I, 'you know that I am descended, as\nwell as you, from the kings and queens of the sea, without any\nmixture of alliance with those of the earth; therefore I do not\ndesign to marry below myself, and I have taken an oath to that\neffect. The condition to which we are reduced shall never oblige\nme to alter my resolution; and if you perish in the execution of\nyour design, I am prepared to fall with you, rather than follow\nthe advice I so little expected from you.'\n\n\"My brother, who was still earnest for my marriage, however\nimproper for me, endeavoured to make me believe that there were\nkings of the earth who were no ways inferior to those of the sea.\nThis put me into a more violent passion, which occasioned him to\nsay several bitter reflecting things, that nettled me to the\nquick. He left me, as much dissatisfied with myself as he could\npossibly be with me; and in this peevish mood I gave a spring\nfrom the bottom of the sea up to the Island of the Moon.\n\n\"Notwithstanding the violent discontent that made me cast myself\nupon that island, I lived content in retirement. But in spite of\nall my precautions, a person of distinction, attended by his\nservants, surprised me sleeping, and carried me to his own house.\nHe expressed much love to me, and omitted nothing which he\nthought might induce me to return his passion. When he saw that\nfair means would not prevail upon me, he attempted to use force:\nbut I soon made him repent of his insolence. He resolved to sell\nme, which he did to the merchant who brought me hither, and sold\nme to your majesty. He was a prudent, courteous, humane man; and\nduring the whole of the long journey, never gave me the least\nreason to complain.\n\n\"As for your majesty,\" continued the princess Gulnare, \"if you\nhad not shown me all the respect you have hitherto done (for\nwhich I am extremely obliged to your goodness), and given me such\nundeniable marks of your affection, that I can no longer doubt of\nit; if you had not immediately sent away your women; I hesitate\nnot to tell you, that I should not have remained with you. I\nwould have thrown myself into the sea out of this window, where\nyou accosted me when you first came into this apartment; and have\ngone in search of my mother, my brother, and the rest of my\nrelations. I should have persisted in that design, and would have\nput it in execution, if after a certain time I had found myself\ndeceived in the hopes of being with child; but in the condition I\nam in, all I could say to my mother or my brother would never\nconvince them that I have been a slave to a king like your\nmajesty. They would never believe it, but would for ever upbraid\nme with the crime I have voluntarily committed against my honour.\nHowever, sire, be it a prince or princess that I may bring into\nthe world, it will be a pledge to engage me never to be parted\nfrom your majesty; and therefore I hope you will no longer regard\nme as a slave, but as a princess worthy your alliance.\"\n\nIn this manner the Princess Gulnare discovered herself to the\nking of Persia, and finished her story. \"My charming, my adorable\nprincess,\" cried he, \"what wonders have I heard! and what ample\nmatter for my curiosity, to ask a thousand questions concerning\nthose strange and unheard of things which you have related! But\nfirst, I ought to thank you for your goodness and patience in\nmaking trial of the truth and constancy of my passion. I thought\nit impossible for me to love you more than I did; but since I\nknow you to be a princess, I love you a thousand times more.\nPrincess! did I say, madam? you are no longer so; but you are my\nqueen, the queen of Persia; and by that title you shall soon be\nproclaimed throughout the whole kingdom. To-morrow the ceremony\nshall be performed in my capital with a pomp and magnificence\nnever yet beheld; which will plainly shew that you are my queen\nand my lawful wife. This should long ago have been done, had you\nsooner convinced me of my error: for from the first moment of my\nseeing you, I have been of the same opinion as now, to love you\nalways, and never to place my affections on any other.\n\n\"But that I may satisfy myself, and pay you all the respect that\nis your due, I beseech you, madam, to inform me more particularly\nof the kingdom and people of the sea, who are altogether unknown\nto me. I have heard much talk, indeed, of the inhabitants of the\nsea, but I always looked upon such accounts merely as tales or\nfables; by what you have told me, I am convinced there is nothing\nmore true; and I have a proof of it in your own person, who are\none of them, and are pleased to condescend to be my wife; which\nis an honour no other inhabitant on the earth can boast. There is\none point however which yet perplexes me; therefore I must beg\nthe favour of you to explain it; that is, I cannot comprehend how\nit is possible for you to live or move in water without being\ndrowned. There are few amongst us who have the art of staying\nunder water; and they would surely perish, if, after a certain\ntime, according to their activity and strength, they did not come\nup again.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the Queen Gulnare, \"I shall with pleasure satisfy\nthe king of Persia. We can walk at the bottom of the sea with as\nmuch ease as you can upon land; and we can breathe in the water\nas you do in the air; so that instead of suffocating us, as it\ndoes you, it absolutely contributes to the preservation of our\nlives. What is yet more remarkable is, that it never wets our\nclothes; so that when we wish to visit the earth, we have no\noccasion to dry them. Our language is the same with that of the\nwriting engraved upon the seal of the great prophet Solomon the\nson of David.\n\n\"I must not forget to inform you further, that the water does not\nin the least hinder us from seeing: for we can open our eyes\nwithout any inconvenience: and as we have quick, piercing sight,\nwe can discern any objects as clearly in the deepest part of the\nsea as upon land. We have also there a succession of day and\nnight; the moon affords us her light; and even the planets and\nthe stars appear visible to us. I have already spoken of our\nkingdoms; but as the sea is much more spacious than the earth, so\nthere are a great number of them, and of great extent. They are\ndivided into provinces; and in each province are several great\ncities well peopled. In short there is an infinite number of\nnations differing in manners and customs, as they do on the\nearth.\n\n\"The palaces of the kings and princes are sumptuous and\nmagnificent. Some of them are constructed of marble of various\ncolours; others of rock-crystal, with which the sea abounds,\nmother of pearl, coral, and of other materials more valuable;\ngold, silver, and all sorts of precious stones are more plentiful\nthere than on earth. I say nothing of the pearls, since the\nlargest that ever were seen upon earth would not be valued\namongst us; and none but the very lowest rank of citizens would\nwear them.\n\n\"As we have a marvellous and incredible agility to transport\nourselves whither we please in the twinkling of an eye, we have\nno occasion for carriages or horses; not but the king has his\nstables and his stud of sea horses; but they are seldom used,\nexcept upon public feasts or rejoicing days. Some, after they\nhave trained them, take delight in riding and shewing their skill\nand dexterity in races; others put them to chariots of mother of\npearl, adorned with an infinite number of shells of all sorts, of\nthe liveliest colours. These chariots are open; and in the middle\nis a throne on which the king sits, and shows himself to the\npublic view of his subjects. The horses are trained to draw by\nthemselves; so that there is no occasion for a charioteer to\nguide them. I pass over a thousand other curious particulars\nrelating to these submarine countries, which would be very\nentertaining to your majesty; but you must permit me to defer\nthem to a future opportunity, to speak of something of much\ngreater consequence, which is, that the method of delivering, and\nthe way of managing the women of the sea in their lying-in, is\nvery different from those of the women of the earth; and I am\nafraid to trust myself in the hands of the midwives of this\ncountry: therefore, since my safe delivery equally concerns us\nboth, with your majesty's permission, I think it proper, for\ngreater security, to send for my mother and my cousins, to assist\nat my labour; at the same time to desire the king my brother's\ncompany, to whom I have a great desire to be reconciled. They\nwill be glad to see me again, when they understand I am wife to\nthe mighty king of Persia. I beseech your majesty to give me\nleave to send for them. I am sure they will be happy to pay their\nrespects to you; and I venture to say you will be pleased to see\nthem.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the king of Persia, \"you are mistress; do\nwhatever you please; I will endeavour to receive them with all\nthe honours they deserve. But I would fain know how you will\nacquaint them with what you desire, and when they will arrive,\nthat I may give orders to make preparation for their reception,\nand go myself in person to meet them.\" \"Sire,\" replied the Queen\nGulnare, \"there is no need of these ceremonies; they will be here\nin a moment; and if your majesty will but step into the closet,\nand look through the lattice, you shall see the manner of their\narrival.\"\n\nAs soon as the king of Persia was in the closet, Queen Gulnare\nordered one of her women to bring her a fire-pan with a little\nfire. After that she bade her retire, and shut the door. When she\nwas alone, she took a piece of aloes-wood out of a box, and put\nit into the fire-pan. As soon as she saw the smoke rise, she\nrepeated some words unknown to the king of Persia, who observed\nwith great attention all that she did. She had no sooner ended,\nthan the sea began to be disturbed. The closet the king was in\nwas so contrived, that looking through the lattice on the same\nside with the windows that faced the sea, he could plainly\nperceive it.\n\nAt length the sea opened at some distance; and presently there\narose out of it a tall, handsome young man, with whiskers of a\nsea-green colour; a little behind him, a lady, advanced in years,\nbut of a majestic air, attended by five young ladies, nothing\ninferior in beauty to the Queen Gulnare.\n\nQueen Gulnare immediately came to one of the windows, and saw the\nking her brother, the queen her mother, and the rest of her\nrelations, who at the same time perceived her also. The company\nadvanced, supported, as it were, upon the waves. When they came\nto the edge, they nimbly, one after another, sprung in at the\nwindow. King Saleh, the queen her mother, and the rest of her\nrelations, embraced her tenderly on their first entrance, with\ntears in their eyes.\n\nAfter Queen Gulnare had received them with all imaginable honour,\nand made them sit down upon a sofa, the queen her mother\naddressed herself to her: \"Daughter,\" said she, \"I am overjoyed\nto see you again after so long an absence; and I am confident\nthat your brother and your relations are no less so. Your leaving\nus without acquainting any one with your intention, involved us\nin inexpressible concern; and it is impossible to tell you how\nmany tears we have shed on your account. We know of no reason\nthat could induce you to take such a resolution, but what your\nbrother related to us respecting the conversation that passed\nbetween him and you. The advice he gave you seemed to him at that\ntime advantageous for settling you in the world, and suitable to\nthe then posture of our affairs. If you had not approved of his\nproposal, you ought not to have been so much alarmed; and give me\nleave to tell you, you took his advice in a different light from\nwhat you ought to have done. But no more of this; it serves only\nto renew the occasion of our sorrow and complaint, which we and\nyou ought to bury forever in oblivion; give us now an account of\nall that has happened to you since we saw you last, and of your\npresent situation, but especially let us know if you are\nmarried.\"\n\nGulnare immediately threw herself at her mother's feet, and\nkissing her hand, \"Madam,\" said she, \"I own I have been guilty of\na fault, and I am indebted to your goodness for the pardon which\nyou are pleased to grant me. What I am going to say, in obedience\nto your commands, will soon convince you, that it is often in\nvain for us to have an aversion for certain measures; I have\nmyself experienced that the only thing I had an abhorrence to, is\nthat to which my destiny has led me.\" She then related the whole\nof what had befallen her since she quitted the sea for the earth.\nAs scon as she had concluded, and acquainted them with her having\nbeen sold to the king of Persia, in whose palace she was at\npresent; \"Sister,\" said the king her brother, \"you have been\nwrong to suffer so many indignities, but you can properly blame\nnobody but yourself; you have it in your power now to free\nyourself, and I cannot but admire your patience, that you could\nendure so long a slavery. Rise, and return with us into my\nkingdom, which I have reconquered from the proud usurper who had\nmade himself master of it.\"\n\nThe king of Persia, who heard these words from the closet where\nhe stood, was in the utmost alarm; \"Ah!\" said he to himself, \"I\nam ruined, and if my queen, my Gulnare, hearken to this advice,\nand leave me, I shall surely die, for it is impossible for me to\nlive without her.\" Queen Gulnare soon put him out of his fears.\n\n\"Brother,\" said she smiling, \"what I have just heard gives me a\ngreater proof than ever of the sincerity of your affection; I\ncould not brook your proposing to me a match with a prince of the\nearth: now I can scarcely forbear being angry with you for\nadvising me to break the engagement I have made with the most\npuissant and most renowned monarch in the world. I do not speak\nhere of an engagement between a slave and her master; it would be\neasy to return the ten thousand pieces of gold he gave for me;\nbut I speak now of a contract between a wife and a husband--and a\nwife who has not the least reason to complain. He is a religious,\nwise, and temperate king, and has given me the most essential\ndemonstrations of his love. What can be a greater proof of the\nsincerity of his passion, than sending away all his women (of\nwhich he had a great number) immediately upon my arrival, and\nconfining himself to me alone? I am now his wife, and he has\nlately declared me queen of Persia, to share with him in his\ncouncils; besides, I am pregnant, and if heaven permit me to give\nhim a son, that will be another motive to engage my affections to\nhim the more.\"\n\n\"So that, brother,\" continued the queen Gulnare, \"instead of\nfollowing your advice, you see I have all the reason in the\nworld, not only to love the king of Persia as passionately as he\nloves me, but also to live and die with him, more out of\ngratitude than duty. I hope then neither my mother, nor you, nor\nany of my cousins, will disapprove of the resolution or the\nalliance I have made, which will do equal honour to the kings of\nthe sea and earth. Excuse me for giving you the trouble of coming\nhither from the bottom of the deep, to communicate it to you; and\nto enjoy the pleasure of seeing you after so long a separation.\"\n\n\"Sister,\" replied King Saleh, \"the proposal I made you of going\nback with us into my kingdom, upon the recital of your adventures\n(which I could not hear without concern), was only to let you see\nhow much we all love you, and how much I in particular honour\nyou, and that nothing is so dear to me as your happiness. Upon\nthe same account then, for my own part, I cannot condemn a\nresolution so reasonable and so worthy of yourself, after what\nyou have told us of the king of Persia your husband, and the\ngreat obligations you owe him; and I am persuaded that the queen\nour mother will be of the same opinion.\"\n\nThe queen confirmed what her son had spoken, and addressing\nherself to Gulnare, said, \"I am glad to hear you are pleased; and\nI have nothing to add to what your brother has said. I should\nhave been the first to condemn you, had you not expressed all the\ngratitude you owe to a monarch. that loves you so passionately.\"\n\nAs the king of Persia had been extremely concerned under the\napprehension of losing his beloved queen, so now he was\ntransported with joy at her resolution never to forsake him; and\nhaving no room to doubt of her love after so open a declaration,\nhe resolved to evince his gratitude in every possible way.\n\nWhile the king was indulging incredible pleasure, Queen Gulnare\nclapped her hands, and immediately some of her slaves entered,\nwhom she had ordered to bring in a collation: as soon as it was\nserved up, she invited the queen her mother, the king her\nbrother, and her cousins to partake. They began to reflect that\nthey were in the palace of a mighty king, who had never seen or\nheard of them, and that it would be rudeness to eat at his table\nwithout him. This reflection raised a blush in their faces, and\nin their emotion, their eyes glowing like fire, they breathed\nflames at their mouths and nostrils.\n\nThis unexpected sight put the king of Persia, who was totally\nignorant of the cause of it, into a dreadful consternation. Queen\nGulnare, suspecting this, and understanding the intention of her\nrelations, rose from her seat, and told them she would be back in\na moment. She went directly to the closet, and by her presence\nrecovered the king of Persia from his surprise; \"Sir,\" said she,\n\"I doubt not but that your majesty is well pleased with the\nacknowledgment I have made of the many favours for which I am\nindebted to you. I might have complied with the wishes of my\nrelations, and gone back with them into their dominions; but I am\nnot capable of such ingratitude, for which I should have been the\nfirst to condemn myself.\" \"Ah! my queen,\"cried the king of\nPersia, \"speak no more of your obligations to me; you have none;\nI am under so many to you, that I shall never be able to repay\nthem. I never thought it possible you could have loved me so\ntenderly as you do, and as you have made appear to me in the most\nendearing manner.\" \"Ah! sir,\" replied Gulnare \"could I do less? I\nfear I have not done enough, considering all the honours that\nyour majesty has heaped upon me; and it is impossible for me to\nremain insensible of your love, after so many convincing proofs\nas you have given me.\"\n\n\"But, sir,\" continued Gulnare, \"let us drop this subject, and\ngive me leave to assure you of the sincere friendship the queen\nmy mother and the king my brother are pleased to honour you with;\nthey earnestly desire to see you, and tell you so themselves: I\nintended to have had some conversation with them by ordering a\nbanquet for them, before I introduced them to your majesty; but\nthey are impatient to pay their respects to you; and therefore I\nbeseech your majesty to be pleased to honour them with your\npresence.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the king of Persia, \"I should be glad to salute\npersons who have the honour to be so nearly related to you, but I\nam afraid of the flames they breathe at their mouths and\nnostrils.\" \"Sir,\" replied the queen laughing, \"you need not in\nthe least fear those flames, which are nothing but a sign of\ntheir unwillingness to eat in your palace, without your honouring\nthem with your presence, and eating with them.\"\n\nThe king of Persia, encouraged by these words, rose and went into\nthe apartment with his Queen Gulnare She presented him to the\nqueen her mother, to the king her brother, and to her other\nrelations; who instantly threw themselves at his feet, with their\nfaces to the ground. The king of Persia ran to them, and lifting\nthem up, embraced them one after another. After they were all\nseated, King Saleh began: \"Sir;\" said he to the king of Persia,\n\"we are at a loss for words to express our joy, to think that the\nqueen my sister, in her disgrace, should have the happiness of\nfalling under the protection of so powerful a monarch. We can\nassure you, she is not unworthy of the high rank to which you\nhave been pleased to raise her; and we have always had so much\nlove and tenderness for her, that we could never think or parting\nwith her to any of the puissant princes of the sea, who have\noften demanded her in marriage before she came of age. Heaven has\nreserved her for you, and we have no better way of testifying our\ngratitude for the favour it has done her, than beseeching it to\ngrant your majesty a long and happy life with her, and to crown\nyou with prosperity and satisfaction.\n\n\"Certainly,\" replied the king of Persia, \"heaven reserved her for\nme, as you observe. I love her with so tender and ardent a\npassion, that I am satisfied I never loved any woman till I saw\nher. I cannot sufficiently thank either the queen her mother or\nyou, prince, or your whole family, for the generosity with which\nyou have consented to receive me into an alliance so glorious to\nme as yours.\" So saying he invited them to take part of the\ncollation, and he and his queen sat down with them. After the\ncollation, the king of Persia conversed with them till it was\nvery late; and when they thought it convenient to retire, he\nwaited upon them himself to the several apartments he had ordered\nto be prepared for them.\n\nThe king of Persia treated his illustrious guests with continual\nfeasts; in which he omitted nothing that might shew his grandeur\nand magnificence, and insensibly prevailed with them to stay with\nhim till the queen was brought to bed. When the time of her\nlying-in drew near, he gave particular orders that nothing should\nbe wanting proper for such an occasion. At length she was brought\nto bed of a son, to the great joy of the queen her mother, who\nassisted at the labour, and presented him to the king.\n\nThe king of Persia received this present with a joy easier to be\nimagined than expressed. The young prince being of a beautiful\ncountenance, he thought no name so proper for him as that of\nBeder, which in the Arabian language signifies the Full Moon. To\nreturn thanks to heaven, he was very liberal in his alms to the\npoor, caused the prison doors to be set open, and gave all his\nslaves of both sexes their liberty. He distributed vast sums\namong the ministers and holy men of his religion. He also gave\nlarge donations to his courtiers, besides a considerable sum that\nwas thrown amongst the people; and by proclamation, ordered\nrejoicings to be kept for several days through the whole city.\n\nOne day, after the queen was recovered, as the king of Persia,\nGulnare, the queen her mother, King Saleh her brother, and the\nprincesses their relations, were discoursing together in her\nmajesty's bed-chamber, the nurse came in with the young prince\nBeder in her arms. King Saleh as soon as he saw him, ran to\nembrace him, and taking him in his arms, kissed and caressed him\nwith the greatest demonstrations of tenderness. He took several\nturns with him about the room, dancing and tossing him about,\nwhen all of a sudden, through a transport of joy, the window\nbeing open, he sprung out, and plunged with him into the sea.\n\nThe king of Persia, who expected no such sight, believing he\nshould either see the prince his son no more, or else that he\nshould see him drowned, was overwhelmed in affliction. \"Sir,\"\nsaid queen Gulnare (with a quiet and undisturbed countenance, the\nbetter to comfort him), \"let your majesty fear nothing; the young\nprince is my son as well as yours, and I do not love him less\nthan yourself. You see I am not alarmed; neither in truth ought I\nto be. He runs no risk, and you will soon see the king his uncle\nappear with him again, and bring him back safe. Although he be\nborn of your blood, he is equally of mine, and will have the same\nadvantage his uncle and I possess, of living equally in the sea,\nand upon the land.\" The queen his mother and the princesses his\nrelations affirmed the same thing; yet all they said had no\neffect on the king, who could not recover from his alarm till he\nagain saw prince Beder.\n\nThe sea at length became troubled, when immediately King Saleh\narose with the young prince in his arms, and holding him up in\nthe air, reentered at the window from which he had leaped. The\nking of Persia being overjoyed to see Prince Beder again, and\nastonished that he was as calm as before he lost sight of him;\nKing Saleh said, \"Sir, was not your majesty in alarm, when you\nfirst saw me plunge into the sea with the prince my nephew?\"\n\"Alas prince,\" answered the king of Persia, \"I cannot express my\nconcern. I thought him lost from that very moment, and you now\nrestore life to me by bringing him again.\" \"I thought as much,\"\nreplied King Saleh, \"though you had not the least reason to\napprehend danger; for before I plunged into the sea, I pronounced\nover him certain mysterious words, which were engraved on the\nseal of the great Solomon the son of David. We practise the like\nin relation to all those children that are born in the regions at\nthe bottom of the sea, by virtue whereof they receive the same\nprivileges as we have over those people who inhabit the earth.\nFrom what your majesty has observed, you may easily see what\nadvantage your son Prince Beder has acquired by his birth on the\npart of his mother Gulnare my sister: for as long as he lives,\nand as often as he pleases, he will be at liberty to plunge into\nthe sea, and traverse the vast empires it contains in its bosom.\"\n\nHaving so spoken, King Saleh, who had restored Prince Beder to\nhis nurse's arms, opened a box he had fetched from his palace in\nthe little time he had disappeared, which was filled with three\nhundred diamonds, as large as pigeons' eggs; a like number of\nrubies of extraordinary size; as many emerald wands, each half a\nfoot long, and thirty strings or necklaces of pearl consisting\neach of ten feet. \"Sir,\" said he to the king of Persia,\npresenting him with this box, \"when I was first summoned by the\nqueen my sister, I knew not what part of the earth she was in, or\nthat she had the honour to be married to so great a monarch. This\nmade us come without a present. As we cannot express how much we\nhave been obliged to your majesty, I beg you to accept this small\ntoken of gratitude in acknowledgment of the many favours you have\nbeen pleased to shew her, wherein we take equal interest.\"\n\nIt is impossible to express how greatly the king of Persia was\nsurprised at the sight of so much riches, enclosed in so little\ncompass. \"What! prince,\" cried he, \"do you call so inestimable a\npresent a small token of your gratitude, when you never have been\nindebted to me? I declare once more you have never been in the\nleast obliged to me, neither the queen your mother nor you. I\nesteem myself but too happy in the consent you have given to the\nalliance I have contracted with you. Madam,\" continued he,\nturning to Gulnare, \"the king your brother has put me into the\ngreatest confusion; and I would beg of him to permit me to refuse\nhis present, were I not afraid of disobliging him: do you\ntherefore endeavour to obtain his leave that I may be excused\naccepting it.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied King Saleh, \"I am not at all surprised that your\nmajesty thinks this present so extraordinary. I know you are not\naccustomed upon earth to see precious stones of this quality and\nnumber: but if you knew, as I do, the mines whence these jewels\nwere taken, and that it is in my power to form a treasure greater\nthan those of all the kings of the earth, you would wonder we\nshould have the boldness to make you so small a present. I\nbeseech you therefore not to regard its trifling value, but\nconsider the sincere friendship which obliges us to offer it to\nyou, and not give us the mortification of refusing it.\" These\nengaging expressions obliged the king of Persia to accept the\npresent, for which he returned many thanks both to King Saleh and\nthe queen his mother.\n\nA few days after, King Saleh gave the king of Persia to\nunderstand, that the queen his mother, the princesses his\nrelations, and himself, could have no greater pleasure than to\nspend their whole lives at his court; but that having been so\nlong absent from their own kingdom, where their presence was\nabsolutely necessary, they begged of him to excuse them if they\ntook leave of him and Queen Gulnare. The king of Persia assured\nthem, he was sorry it was not in his power to return their visit\nin their own dominions; but added, \"As I am persuaded you will\nnot forget Gulnare, I hope I shall have the honour to see you\nagain more than once.\"\n\nMany tears were shed on both sides upon their separation. King\nSaleh departed first; but the queen his mother and the princesses\nhis relations were obliged to force themselves from the embraces\nof Gulnare, who could not prevail with herself to let them go.\nThis royal company were no sooner out of sight, than the king of\nPersia said to Gulnare, \"Madam, I should have looked upon the\nperson who had pretended to pass those upon me for true wonders,\nof which I myself have been eye-witness from the time I have been\nhonoured with your illustrious family at my court, as one who\nwould have abused my credulity. But I cannot refuse to believe my\nsenses; and shall remember them while I live, and never cease to\nbless heaven for directing you to me, in preference to any other\nprince.\"\n\nBeder was brought up and educated in the palace under the care of\nthe king and queen of Persia, who both saw him grow and increase\nin beauty to their great satisfaction. He gave them yet greater\npleasure as he advanced in years, by his continual sprightliness,\nhis agreeable manners, and the justness and vivacity of his wit;\nand this satisfaction was the more sensible, because King Saleh\nhis uncle, the queen his grandmother, and the princesses his\nrelations, came from time to time to partake of it.\n\nHe was easily taught to read and write, and was instructed with\nthe same facility in all the sciences that became a prince of his\nrank.\n\nWhen he arrived at the age of fifteen, he acquitted himself in\nall his exercises with infinitely better address and grace than\nhis masters. He was withal wise and prudent. The king, who had\nalmost from his cradle discovered in him virtues so necessary for\na monarch, and who moreover began to perceive the infirmities of\nold age coming upon himself every day, would not stay till death\ngave him possession of his throne, but purposed to resign it to\nhim. He had no great difficulty to make his council consent to\nthis arrangement: and the people heard his resolution with so\nmuch the more joy, as they conceived Prince Beder worthy to\ngovern them. In a word, as the king had not for a long time\nappeared in public, they had the opportunity of observing that he\nhad not that disdainful, proud, and distant air, which most\nprinces have, who look upon all below them with scorn and\ncontempt. They saw, on the contrary, that he treated all mankind\nwith that goodness which invited them to approach him; that he\nheard favourably all who had anything to say to him; that he\nanswered everybody with a goodness that was peculiar to him; and\nthat he refused nobody any thing that had the least appearance of\njustice.\n\nThe day for the ceremony was appointed, when in the midst of the\nwhole assembly, which was then more numerous than ordinary, the\nking of Persia came down from his throne, took the crown from his\nhead, put it on that of Prince Beder, and having seated him in\nhis place, kissed his hand as a token that he resigned his\nauthority to him. After which he took his place among the crowd\nof viziers and emirs below the throne.\n\nHereupon the viziers, emirs, and other principal officers, came\nimmediately and threw themselves at the new king's feet, taking\neach the oath of fidelity according to their rank. Then the grand\nvizier made a report of divers important matters, on which the\nyoung king gave judgment with that admirable prudence and\nsagacity that surprised all the council. He next turned out\nseveral governors convicted of mal-administration, and put others\nin their room, with such wonderful and just discernment, as\nexalted the acclamations of every body, which were so much the\nmore honourable, as flattery had no share in them. He at length\nleft the council, accompanied by his father, and went to wait on\nhis mother Queen Gulnare at her apartment. The queen no sooner\nsaw him coming with his crown upon his head, than she ran to him\nand embraced him with tenderness, wishing him a long and\nprosperous reign.\n\nThe first year of his reign King Beder acquitted himself of all\nhis royal functions with great assiduity. Above all, he took care\nto inform himself of the state of his affairs, and all that might\nany way contribute towards the happiness of his people. Next\nyear, having left the administration to his council, under the\ndirection of his father, he left his capital, under pretence of\ndiverting himself with hunting; but his real intention was to\nvisit all the provinces of his kingdom, that he might reform\nabuses, establish good order, and deprive all ill-minded princes,\nhis neighbours, of any opportunities of attempting anything\nagainst the security and tranquillity of his subjects, by shewing\nhimself on his frontiers.\n\nIt required no less than a whole year for the young monarch to\nexecute a design so worthy of him. Soon after his return, the old\nking his father fell so dangerously ill, that he knew at once he\nshould never recover. He waited for his last moment with great\ntranquillity, and his only care was to recommend to the ministers\nand other lords of his son's court, to persevere in the fidelity\nthey had sworn to him: and there was not one but willingly\nrenewed his oath as freely as at first. He died at length, to the\ngreat grief of King Beder and Queen Gulnare, who caused his\ncorpse to be borne to a stately mausoleum, worthy of his rank and\ndignity.\n\nThe funeral obsequies ended, King Beder found no difficulty to\ncomply with that ancient custom in Persia to mourn for the dead a\nwhole month and not to be seen by anybody during that time. He\nhad mourned the death of his father his whole life, had he\nyielded to his excessive affliction, and had it been right for a\ngreat prince thus to abandon himself to sorrow. During this\ninterval the Queen Gulnare's mother, and King Saleh, together\nwith the princesses their relations, arrived at the Persian court\nto condole with their relations.\n\nWhen the month was expired, the king could not refuse admittance\nto the grand vizier and the other lords of his court, who\nbesought him to lay aside his mourning, to shew himself to his\nsubjects, and take upon him the administration of affairs as\nbefore.\n\nHe shewed so much reluctance to comply with their request, that\nthe grand vizier was forced to take upon himself to say; \"Sir, it\nwere needless to represent to your majesty, that it belongs only\nto women to persist in perpetual mourning. We doubt not but you\nare fully convinced of this, and that it is not your intention to\nfollow their example. Neither our tears nor yours are capable of\nrestoring life to the good king your father, though we should\nlament him all our days. He has submitted to the common law of\nall men, which subjects them to pay the indispensable tribute of\ndeath. Yet we cannot say absolutely that he is dead, since we see\nin him your sacred person. He did not himself doubt, when he was\ndying, but he should revive in you, and to your majesty it\nbelongs to show that he was not deceived.\"\n\nKing Beder could no longer oppose such pressing instances; he\nlaid aside his mourning; and after he had resumed the royal habit\nand ornaments, began to provide for the necessities of his\nkingdom and subjects with the same assiduity as before his\nfather's death. He acquitted himself with universal approbation:\nand as he was exact in maintaining the ordinances of his\npredecessor, the people did not perceive they had changed their\nsovereign.\n\nKing Saleh, who was returned to his dominions in the sea with the\nqueen his mother and the princesses, no sooner saw that King\nBeder had resumed the government, but he at the end of the year\ncame alone to visit him; and King Beder and Queen Gulnare were\noverjoyed to see him. One evening, talking of various matters,\nKing Saleh fell insensibly on the praises of the king his nephew,\nand expressed to the queen his sister how glad he was to see him\ngovern so prudently, as to acquire such high reputation, not only\namong his neighbours, but more remote princes. King Beder, who\ncould not bear to hear himself so well spoken of, and not being\nwilling, through good manners, to interrupt the king his uncle,\nturned on one side, and feigned to be asleep, leaning his head\nagainst a cushion that was behind him.\n\nFrom these commendations, which regarded only the conduct and\ngenius of Beder, King Saleh came to speak of the perfections of\nhis person, which he extolled as prodigies, having nothing equal\nto them upon earth, or in all the kingdoms under the waters, with\nwhich he was acquainted.\n\n\"Sister,\" said he, \"I wonder you have not thought of marrying\nhim: if I mistake not, he is in his twentieth year; and, at that\nage, no prince ought to be suffered to be without a wife. I will\nthink of a match for him myself, since you will not, and marry\nhim to some princess of our lower world that may be worthy of\nhim.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" replied queen Gulnare, \"you call to my attention what\nI must own has never occurred to me. As he discovered no\ninclination for marriage, I never thought of mentioning it to\nhim. I like your proposal of one of our princesses; and I desire\nyou to name one so beautiful and accomplished that the king my\nson may be obliged to love her.\"\n\n\"I know one,\" replied king Saleh, softly; \"but before I tell you\nwho she is, let us see if the king my nephew be asleep, and I\nwill tell you afterwards why it is necessary we should take that\nprecaution.\" Queen Gulnare turned about and looked at her son,\nand thought she had no reason to doubt but he was in a profound\nsleep. King Beder, nevertheless, far from sleeping, redoubled his\nattention, unwilling to lose any thing the king his uncle said\nwith so much secrecy. \"There is no necessity for your speaking so\nlow,\" said the queen to the king her brother; \"you may speak out\nwith freedom, without fear of being heard.\"\n\n\"It is by no means proper,\" replied King Saleh, \"that the king my\nnephew should as yet have any knowledge of what I am going to\nsay. Love, you know, sometimes enters at the ear, and it is not\nnecessary he should thus conceive a passion for the lady I am\nabout to name. Indeed I see many difficulties to be surmounted,\nnot on the lady's part, as I hope, but on that of her father. I\nneed only mention to you the princess Jehaun-ara, daughter of the\nking of Samandal.\"\n\n\"How! brother,\" replied Queen Gulnare, \"is not the princess yet\nmarried? I remember to have seen her before I left your palace;\nshe was then about eighteen months old, surprisingly beautiful,\nand must needs be the wonder of the world, if her charms have\nincreased with her years. The few years she is older than the\nking my son ought not to prevent us from doing our utmost to\neffect the match. Let me but know the difficulties in the way,\nand we will surmount them.\"\n\n\"Sister,\" replied King Saleh, \"the greatest difficulty is, that\nthe king of Samandal is insupportably vain, looking upon all\nothers as his inferiors: it is not likely we shall easily get him\nto enter into this alliance. I will however go to him in person,\nand demand of him the princess his daughter; and, in case he\nrefuses her, we will address ourselves elsewhere, where we shall\nbe more favourably heard. For this reason, as you may perceive,\"\nadded he, \"it is as well for the king my nephew not to know any\nthing of our design, till we have the consent of the king of\nSamandal.\" They discoursed a little longer upon this point and,\nbefore they parted, agreed that King Saleh should forthwith\nreturn to his own dominions, and demand the princess for the king\nof Persia his nephew.\n\nThis done, Queen Gulnare and King Saleh, who believed King Beder\nasleep, agreed to awake him before they retired; and he\ndissembled so well that he seemed to awake from a profound sleep.\nHe had heard every word, and the character they gave of the\nprincess had inflamed his heart with a new passion. He had\nconceived such an idea of her beauty, that the desire of\npossessing her made him pass the night very uneasy without\nclosing his eyes.\n\nNext day King Saleh proposed taking leave of Gulnare and the king\nhis nephew. The young king, who knew his uncle would not have de-\nparted so soon but to go and promote without loss of time his\nhappiness, changed colour when he heard him mention his\ndeparture. His passion was become so violent, it would not suffer\nhim to wait so long for the sight of his mistress as would be\nrequired to accomplish the marriage. He more than once resolved\nto desire his uncle to bring her away with him: but as he did not\nwish to let the queen his mother understand he knew anything of\nwhat had passed, he desired him only to stay with him one day\nmore, that they might hunt together, intending to take that\nopportunity to discover his mind to him.\n\nThe day for hunting was fixed, and King Beder had many\nopportunities of being alone with his uncle; but he had not\ncourage to acquaint him with his design.\n\nIn the heat of the chase, when King Saleh was separated from him,\nand not one of his officers or attendants was near him, he\nalighted by a rivulet; and having tied his horse to a tree,\nwhich, with several others growing along the banks, afforded a\nvery pleasing shade, he laid himself on the grass, and gave free\ncourse to his tears, which flowed in great abundance, accompanied\nwith many sighs.\n\nHe remained a good while in this condition, absorbed in thought,\nwithout speaking a word. King Saleh, in the meantime, missing the\nking his nephew, began to be much concerned to know what was\nbecome of him; but could meet no one who could give any tidings\nof him. He therefore left his company to seek for him, and at\nlength perceived him at a distance. He had observed the day\nbefore, and more plainly that day, that he was not so lively as\nhe used to be; and that, if he was asked a question, he either\nanswered not at all, or nothing to the purpose; but never in the\nleast suspected the cause. As soon as he saw him dying in that\ndisconsolate posture, he immediately guessed he had not only\nheard what had passed between him and Queen Gulnare, but was\nbecome passionately in love. He alighted at some distance from\nhim, and having tied his horse to a tree, came upon him so\nsoftly, that he heard him pronounce the following words:\n\n\"Amiable princess of the kingdom of Samandal, I have no doubt had\nbut an imperfect sketch of your incomparable beauty; I hold you\nto be still more beautiful in preference to all the princesses in\nthe world, and to excel them as much as the sun does the moon and\nstars. I would this moment go and offer you my heart, if I knew\nwhere to find you; it belongs to you, and no princess shall be\npossessor of it but yourself!\"\n\nKing Saleh would hear no more; he advanced immediately, and\ndiscovered himself to Beder. \"From what I see, nephew,\" said he,\n\"you heard what the queen your mother and I said the other day of\nthe princess Jehaun-ara. It was not our intention you should have\nknown any thing respecting her, and we thought you were asleep.\"\n\"My dear uncle,\" replied King Beder, \"I heard every word, and\nhave sufficiently experienced the effect you foretold; which it\nwas not in your power to prevent. I detained you on purpose to\nacquaint you with my love before your departure; but the shame of\ndisclosing my weakness, if it be any to love a princess so worthy\nof my affection, sealed up my mouth. I beseech you then, by the\nfriendship you profess for a prince who has the honour to be so\nnearly allied to you, that you would pity me, and not wait to\nprocure me the consent of the divine Jehaun-ara, till you have\ngained that of the king of Samandal that I may marry his\ndaughter, unless you had rather see me die with love, before I\nbehold her.\"\n\nThese words of the king of Persia greatly embarrassed King Saleh.\nHe represented to him how difficult it was to give him the\nsatisfaction he desired, and that he could not do it without\ncarrying him along with him; which might be of dangerous\nconsequence, since his presence was so absolutely necessary in\nhis kingdom. He conjured him, therefore, to moderate his passion,\ntill such time as he had put things into a train to satisfy him,\nassuring him he would use his utmost diligence, and would come to\nacquaint him in a few days. But these reasons were not sufficient\nto satisfy the king of Persia. \"Cruel uncle,\" said he. \"I find\nyou do not love me so much as you pretended, and that you had\nrather see me die than grant the first request I ever made.\"\n\n\"I am ready to convince your majesty,\" replied King Saleh, \"that\nI would do any thing to serve you; but as for carrying you along\nwith me, I cannot do that till I have spoken to the queen your\nmother. What would she say of you and me? If she consents, I am\nready to do all you would have me, and will join my entreaties to\nyours.\" \"You cannot be ignorant,\" replied the king of Persia,\n\"that the queen my mother would never willingly part with me; and\ntherefore this excuse does but farther convince me of your\nunkindness. If you really love me, as you would have me believe,\nyou must return to your kingdom immediately, and take me with\nyou.\"\n\nKing Saleh, finding himself obliged to yield to his nephew's\nimportunity, drew from his finger a ring, on which were engraved\nthe same mysterious names of God that were upon Solomon's seal,\nwhich had wrought so many wonders by their virtue. \"Here, take\nthis ring,\" said he, \"put it on your finger, and fear neither the\nwaters of the sea, nor their depth.\" The king of Persia took the\nring, and when he had put it on his finger, King Saleh said to\nhim, \"Do as I do.\" At the same time they both mounted lightly up\ninto the air, and made towards the sea, which was not far\ndistant, and they both plunged into it.\n\nThe sea-king was not long in arriving at his palace, with the\nking of Persia, whom he immediately carried to the queen's\napartments, and presented to her. The king of Persia kissed the\nqueen his grandmother's hands, and she embraced him with great\ndemonstrations of joy. \"I do not ask you how you do,\" said she,\n\"I see you are very well, and am rejoiced at it; but I desire to\nknow how my daughter your mother Queen Gulnare does.\" The king of\nPersia took great care not to let her know that he had come away\nwith out taking leave of her; on the contrary he told her, the\nqueen his mother was in perfect health, and had enjoined him to\npay her duty to her. The queen then presented him to the\nprincesses; and while he was in conversation with them, she left\nhim, and went with King Saleh into a closet, who told her how the\nking of Persia was fallen in love with the Princess Jehaun-ara,\nupon the bare relation of her beauty, and contrary to his\nintention; that he had, against his own wishes, brought him along\nwith him, and that he was going to concert measures to procure\nthe princess for him in marriage.\n\nAlthough King Saleh was, to do him justice, perfectly innocent of\nthe king of Persia's passion, yet the queen could hardly forgive\nhis indiscretion in mentioning the princess Jehaun- ara before\nhim, \"Your imprudence is not to be forgiven,\" said she; \"can you\nthink that the king of Samandal, whose character is so well\nknown, will have greater consideration for you, than the many\nother kings to whom he has refused his daughter, with such\nevident contempt? Would you have him send you away with the same\nconfusion?\n\n\"Madam,\" replied King Saleh, \"I have already told you it was\ncontrary to my intention that the king my nephew heard what I\nrelated of the beauty of the princess to the queen my sister. The\nfault is committed, and we must consider what a violent passion\nhe has for this princess, and that he will die with grief and\naffliction, if we do not speedily obtain her for him. For my\npart, I shall omit nothing that can contribute to effect their\nunion: since I was, though innocently, the cause of the malady, I\nwill do all I can to remedy it. I hope, madam, you will approve\nof my resolution, to go myself and wait on the king of Samandal,\nwith a rich present of precious stones, and demand the princess\nhis daughter of him for the king of Persia. I have some reason to\nbelieve he will not refuse, but will be pleased with an alliance\nwith one of the greatest potentates of the earth.\"\n\n\"It were to have been wished,\" replied the queen, \"that we had\nnot been under a necessity of making this demand, since the\nsuccess of our attempt is not so certain as we could desire; but\nsince my grandson's peace and content depend upon it, I freely\ngive my consent. But, above all, I charge you, since you well\nknow the humour of the king of Samandal, that you take care to\nspeak to him with due respect, and in a manner that cannot\npossibly offend him.\"\n\nThe queen prepared the present herself, composing it of diamonds,\nrubies, emeralds, and strings of pearl, all which she put into a\nrich box. Next morning King Saleh took leave of her majesty and\nthe king of Persia, and departed with a chosen and small troop of\nofficers, and attendants. He soon arrived at the kingdom, and the\npalace of the king of Samandal, who delayed not to give him\naudience. He rose from his throne as soon as he perceived him;\nand King Saleh, forgetting his character for some moments,\nknowing whom he had to deal with, prostrated himself at his feet,\nwishing him the accomplishment of all his desires. The king of\nSamandal stooped to raise him, and after he had placed him on his\nleft hand, told him he was welcome, and asked him if there was\nany thing he could do to serve him.\n\n\"Sir,\" answered King Saleh, \"though I should have no other motive\nthan that of paying my respects to the most potent, most prudent,\nand most valiant prince in the world, feeble would be my language\nto express how much I honour your majesty. Could you penetrate\ninto my inmost soul, you would be convinced of the great\nveneration I have for you, and of my ardent desire to testify my\nattachment.\" Having spoke these words, he took the box of jewels\nfrom one of his servants, and having opened it, presented it to\nthe king, imploring him to accept of it for his sake.\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the king of Samandal, \"you would not make me\nsuch a present unless you had a request proportionable to it to\npropose. If there be any thing in my power to grant, you may\nfreely command me, and I shall feel the greatest pleasure in\ncomplying with your wishes. Speak, and tell me frankly, wherein I\ncan serve you?\"\n\n\"I must own ingenuously,\" replied King Saleh, \"I have a boon to\nask of your majesty; and I shall take care to ask nothing but\nwhat is in your power to bestow. The thing depends so absolutely\non yourself, that it would be to no purpose to ask it of any one\nelse. I ask it then with all possible earnestness, and I beg of\nyou not to refuse me.\" \"If it be so,\" replied the king of\nSamandal, \"you have nothing to do but acquaint me what it is, and\nyou shall see after what manner I can oblige when it is in my\npower.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said King Saleh, \"after the confidence with which your\nmajesty has been pleased to inspire me, I will not dissemble any\nlonger, that I came to beg of you to honour our house with your\nalliance by the marriage of your daughter, and to strengthen the\ngood understanding that has so long subsisted between our two\ncrowns.\"\n\nAt these words the king of Samandal burst into a loud laugh,\nfalling back in his throne against a cushion that supported him,\nand with an imperious and scornful air, said, \"King Saleh, I have\nalways hitherto thought you a prince of great wisdom, and\nprudence; but what you say convinces me I was mistaken. Tell me,\nI beseech you, where was your wit or discretion, when you formed\nto yourself such a chimera as you have proposed to me? Could you\nconceive a thought of aspiring in marriage to a princess, the\ndaughter of so powerful a monarch as myself? You ought to have\nconsidered the great distance between us, and not run the risk of\nlosing in a moment the esteem I always had for you.\"\n\nKing Saleh was hurt at this affronting answer, and could scarcely\nrestrain his resentment; however he replied with all possible\nmoderation, \"God reward your majesty as you deserve! I have the\nhonour to inform you, I do not demand the princess your daughter\nin marriage for myself; had I done even that, your majesty and\nthe princess, so far from being offended, should have thought it\nan honour done to both. Your majesty well knows I am one of the\nkings of the sea as well as yourself; that my ancestors yield not\nin antiquity to any royal house; and that the kingdom I inherit\nis no less potent and flourishing than your own. If your majesty\nhad not interrupted me, you had soon understood that the favour I\nasked was not for myself, but for the young king of Persia my\nnephew, whose power and grandeur, no less than his personal good\nqualities, cannot be unknown to you. Everybody acknowledges the\nPrincess Jehaun-ara to be the most beautiful under ocean: but it\nis no less true, that the king of Persia is the handsomest and\nmost accomplished prince on earth. Thus the favour that is asked\nbeing likely to redound to the honour both of your majesty and\nthe princess your daughter, you ought not to doubt that your\nconsent to an alliance so equal will be unanimously approved in\nall the kingdoms of the sea. The princess is worthy of the king\nof Persia, and the king of Persia is no less worthy of her.\"\n\nThe king of Samandal had not permitted King Saleh to speak so\nlong, but that rage deprived him of all power of speech. At\nlength, however, he broke out into outrageous and insulting\nexpressions, unworthy of a great king. \"Dog,\" cried he, \"dare you\ntalk to me after this manner, and so much as mention my\ndaughter's name in my presence Can you think the son of your\nsister Gulnare worthy to come in competition with my daughter?\nWho are you? Who was your father? Who is your sister? And who\nyour nephew? Was not his father a dog, and the son of a dog, like\nyou? Guards, seize the insolent wretch, and strike off his head.\"\n\nThe few officers who were about the king of Samandal were\nimmediately going to obey his orders, when King Saleh, who was in\nthe flower of his age, nimble and vigorous, got from them, before\nthey could draw their sabres; and having reached the palace-gate,\nfound there a thousand men of his relations and friends, well\narmed and equipped, who were just arrived. The queen his mother\nhaving considered the small number of attendants he had taken\nwith him, and foreseeing the reception he would probably meet\nfrom the king of Samandal, had sent these troops to protect and\ndefend him in case of danger, ordering them to make haste. Those\nof his relations who were at the head of this troop had reason to\nrejoice at their seasonable arrival, when they beheld him and his\nattendants running in great disorder, and pursued. \"Sire,\" cried\nhis friends, the moment he joined them, \"who has insulted you? We\nare ready to revenge you: you need only command us.\"\n\nKing Saleh related his case to them in few words, and putting\nhimself at the head of a troop, while some seized the gates, he\nre-entered the palace. The few officers and guards who had\npursued him, being soon dispersed, he forced the king of\nSamandal's apartment, who, being abandoned by his attendants, was\nsoon seized. King Saleh left sufficient guards to secure his\nperson, and then went from apartment to apartment, to search\nafter the Princess Jehaun-ara. But she, on the first alarm, had,\ntogether with her women, sprung up to the surface of the sea, and\nescaped to a desert island.\n\nWhile this passed in the palace of the king of Samandal, those of\nKing Saleh's attendants who had fled at the first menaces of that\nking, put the queen mother into terrible consternation, on\nrelating the danger of her son. King Beder, who was present at\nthe time, was the more concerned, as he looked upon himself as\nthe principal author of the mischief that might ensue: therefore,\nnot caring to abide the queen's presence any longer, whilst she\nwas giving the orders necessary at that conjuncture, he darted up\nfrom the bottom of the sea; and not knowing how to find his way\nto the kingdom of Persia, happened to land on the island where\nthe Princess Jehaun-ara had saved herself.\n\nThe prince, not a little disturbed in mind, seated himself under\nthe shade of a large tree, surrounded by others. Whilst he was\nendeavouring to recover himself, he heard somebody talking, but\nwas too far off to understand what was said. He arose, and\nadvanced softly towards the place whence the sound proceeded,\nwhere, among the branches, he perceived a beauty that dazzled\nhim. \"Doubtless,\" said he, within himself, stopping and\nconsidering her with great attention, \"this must be the princess\nJehaun-ara, whom fear has obliged to abandon her father's palace;\nor if it be not, she no less deserves my love.\" This said, he\ncame forward, and discovering himself, approached the princess\nwith profound reverence. \"Madam,\" said he, \"I can never\nsufficiently thank Heaven for the favour it has done me in\npresenting to my eyes so much beauty. A greater happiness could\nnot have befallen me than this opportunity to offer you my\nservices. I beseech you, therefore, madam, to accept them, it\nbeing impossible that a lady in this solitude should not want\nassistance.\"\n\n\"True, my lord,\" replied Jehaun-ara, sorrowfully; \"it is not a\nlittle extraordinary for a lady of my quality to be in this\nsituation. I am a princess, daughter of the king of Samandal, and\nmy name is Jehaun-ara. I was at ease in my father's palace, in my\napartment, when suddenly I heard a dreadful noise: news was\nimmediately brought me, that king Saleh, I know not for what\nreason, had forced the palace, seized the king my father, and\nmurdered all the guards who made any resistance. I had only time\nto save myself, and escape hither from his violence.\"\n\nAt these words King Beder began to be concerned that he had\nquitted his grandmother so hastily, without staying to hear from\nher an explanation of the news that had been brought. But he was,\non the other hand, overjoyed to find that the king his uncle had\nrendered himself master of the king of Samandal's person, not\ndoubting but he would consent to give up the princess for his\nliberty. \"Adorable princess,\" continued he, \"your concern is most\njust, but it\n\nis easy to put an end both to that and your father's captivity.\nYou will agree with me, when I shall tell you that I am Beder,\nking of Persia, and King Saleh is my uncle: I assure you, madam,\nhe has no design to seize the king your father's dominions; his\nonly intention is to obtain your father's consent, that I may\nhave the honour and happiness of being his son-in- law. I had\nalready given my heart to you, upon the bare relation of your\nbeauty and charms; and now, far from repenting, I beg of you to\naccept it, and to be assured that I will love you as long as I\nlive. I dare flatter myself you will not refuse this favour, but\nbe ready to acknowledge that a king, who quitted his dominions\npurely on your account, deserves some acknowledgment. Permit me\nthen, beauteous princess! to have the honour to present you to\nthe king my uncle; and the king your father shall no sooner have\nconsented to our marriage, than King Saleh will leave him\nsovereign of his dominions as before.\"\n\nThis declaration of King Beder did not produce the effect he\nexpected. It is true, the princess no sooner saw him, than his\nperson, air, and the grace wherewith he accosted her, led her to\nregard him as one who would not have been disagreeable to her;\nbut when she heard that he had been the occasion of all the ill\ntreatment her father had suffered, of the grief and fright she\nhad endured, and especially the necessity she was reduced to of\nflying her country; she looked upon him as an enemy with whom she\nought to have no connection. Whatever inclination she might have\nto agree to the marriage which he desired, she determined never\nto consent, reflecting that one of the reasons her father might\nhave against this match might be, that King Beder was son of a\nking of the earth.\n\nShe would not, however, let King Beder know her resentment; but\nsought an occasion to deliver herself dexterously out of his\nhands; and seeming in the meantime to have a great kindness for\nhim, \"Are you then,\" said she, with all possible civility, \"son\nof the Queen Gulnare, so famous for her wit and beauty? I am glad\nof it, and rejoice that you are the son of so worthy a mother.\nThe king my father was much in the wrong so strongly to oppose\nour union: had he but seen you, he must have consented to make us\nhappy.\" Saying so, she reached forth her hand to him as a token\nof friendship.\n\nKing Beder, believing himself arrived at the very pinnacle of\nhappiness, held forth his hand, and taking that of the princess,\nstooped down to kiss it, when she, pushing him back, and spitting\nin his face for want of water to throw at him, said, \"Wretch,\nquit the form of a man, and take that of a white bird, with a red\nbill and feet.\" Upon her pronouncing these words, King Beder was\nimmediately changed into a bird of that description, to his great\nsurprise and mortification. \"Take him,\" said she to one of her\nwomen, \"and carry him to the Dry Island.\" This island was only\none frightful rock, where not a drop of water was to be had.\n\nThe waiting-woman took the bird, but in executing her princess's\norders, had compassion on King Beder's misfortune. \"It would be\ngreat pity,\" said she to herself, \"to let a prince so worthy to\nlive die of hunger and thirst. The princess, who is good and\ngentle, will, it may be, repent of this cruel order, when she\ncomes to herself; it were better that I carried him to a place\nwhere he may die a natural death.\" She accordingly carried him to\na well-frequented island, and left him in a charming plain,\nplanted with all sorts of fruit- trees, and watered by divers\nrivulets.\n\nLet us return to King Saleh. After he had sought for the princess\nJehaun-ara to no purpose, he caused the king of Samandal to be\nshut up in his own palace, under a strong guard; and having given\nthe necessary orders for governing the kingdom in his absence,\nreturned to give the queen his mother an account of what he had\ndone. The first question he asked on his arrival was, \"Where was\nthe king his nephew?\" and he learned with great surprise and\nvexation that he could not be found. \"News being brought me,\"\nsaid the queen, \"of the danger you were in at the palace of the\nking of Samandal, whilst I was giving orders to send you other\ntroops to avenge you, he disappeared. He must have been alarmed\nat hearing of your being in such great danger, and did not think\nhimself in sufficient security with us.\"\n\nThis news exceedingly afflicted King Saleh, who now repented\nbeing so easily wrought upon by King Beder as to carry him away\nwith him without his mother's consent. He sent everywhere to seek\nfor him, but could hear no tidings of him; and instead of the joy\nhe felt at having carried on so far the marriage, which he looked\nupon as his own work, his grief for this accident was more\nmortifying. Whilst he was under this suspense about his nephew,\nhe left his kingdom under the administration of his mother, and\nwent to govern that of the king of Samandal, whom he continued to\nkeep with great vigilance, though with all due respect to his\ncharacter.\n\nThe same day that King Saleh returned to the kingdom of Samandal,\nQueen Gulnare arrived at the court of the queen her mother. The\nprincess was not at all surprised to find her son did not return\nthe same day he set out: it being not uncommon for him to go\nfarther than he proposed in the heat of the chase; but when she\nsaw he neither returned the next day, nor the day after, she\nbegan to be alarmed, as may easily be imagined from her affection\nfor him. This alarm was augmented, when the officers, who had\naccompanied the king, and were obliged to return after they had\nfor a long time sought in vain both for him and his uncle, came\nand told her majesty they must of necessity have come to some\nharm, or must be together in some place which they could not\nguess; since, notwithstanding all the diligence they had used,\nthey could hear no tidings of them. Their horses indeed they had\nfound, but as for their persons, they knew not where to look for\nthem. The queen hearing this, had resolved to dissemble and\nconceal her affliction, bidding the officers to search once more\nwith their utmost diligence; but in the meantime she plunged into\nthe sea, to satisfy herself as to the suspicion she had\nentertained that king Saleh must have carried his nephew with\nhim.\n\nThis great queen would have been more affectionately received by\nher mother, had she not, on first seeing her, guessed the\noccasion of her coming. \"Daughter,\" said she, \"I plainly perceive\nyou are not come hither to visit me; you come to inquire after\nthe king your son; and the only news I can tell you will augment\nboth your grief and mine. I no sooner saw him arrive in our\nterritories, than I rejoiced; yet when I came to understand he\nhad come away without your knowledge, I began to participate with\nyou the concern you must needs suffer.\" Then she related to her\nwith what zeal King Saleh went to demand the Princess Jehaun-ara\nin marriage for King Beder, and what had happened, till her son\ndisappeared. \"I have sought diligently after him,\" added she,\n\"and the king my son, who is but just gone to govern the kingdom\nof Samandal, has done all that lay in his power. All our\nendeavours have hitherto proved unsuccessful, but we must hope\nnevertheless to see him again, perhaps when we least expect it.\"\n\nQueen Gulnare was not satisfied with this hope: she looked upon\nthe king her son as lost, and lamented him bitterly, laying all\nthe blame on the king his uncle. The queen her mother made her\nconsider the necessity of not yielding too much to grief. \"The\nking your brother,\" said she, \"ought not, it is true, to have\ntalked to you so inconsiderately about that marriage, nor ever\nhave consented to carry away the king my grandson, without\nacquainting you; yet, since it is not certain that the king of\nPersia is absolutely lost, you ought to neglect nothing to\npreserve his kingdom for him: lose then no more time, but return\nto your capital; your presence there will be necessary, and it\nwill not be difficult for you to preserve the public peace, by\ncausing it to be published, that the king of Persia was gone to\nvisit his grandmother.\"\n\nThis was sufficient to oblige Queen Gulnare to yield. She took\nleave of the queen her mother, and returned to the palace of the\ncapital of Persia before she had been missed. She immediately\ndespatched persons to recall the officers she had sent after the\nking, to tell them that she knew where his majesty was, and that\nthey should soon see him again. She also caused the same report\nto be spread throughout the city, and governed, in concert with\nthe prime minister and council, with the same tranquillity as if\nthe king had been present.\n\nTo return to King Beder, whom the Princess Jehaun-ara's\nwaiting-woman had left in the island before mentioned; that\nmonarch was not a little surprised when he found himself alone,\nand under the form of a bird. He esteemed himself yet more\nunhappy, in that he knew not where he was, or in what part of the\nworld the kingdom of Persia lay. But if he had known, and had\ntried the force of his wings, to hazard the traversing so many\nextensive watery regions, and had reached it, what could he have\ngained, but the mortification to continue still in the same form,\nand not to be accounted even a man, much less acknowledged king\nof Persia? He was forced to remain where he was, live upon such\nfood as birds of his kind were wont to have, and to pass the\nnight on a tree.\n\nA few days afterwards, a peasant, skilled in taking birds with\nnets, chanced to come to the place where he was; when perceiving\nso fine a bird, the like of which he had never seen, though he\nhad followed that employment for a long while, he began greatly\nto rejoice. He employed all his art to ensnare him; and at length\nsucceeded and took him. Overjoyed at so great a prize, which he\nlooked upon to be of more worth than all the other birds he\ncommonly took, he shut it up in a cage, and carried it to the\ncity. As soon as he was come into the market, a citizen stops\nhim, and asked how much he would have for his bird?\n\nInstead of answering, the peasant demanded of the citizen what he\nwould do with him in case he should buy him? \"What wouldst thou\nhave me to do with him,\" answered the citizen, \"but roast and eat\nhim?\" \"If that be the case,\" replied the peasant, \"I suppose you\nwould think me very well paid, if you should give me the smallest\npiece of silver for him. I set a much higher value upon him, and\nyou should not have him for a piece of gold. Although I am\nadvanced in years, I never saw such a bird in my life. I intend\nto make a present of him to the king; he will know its value\nbetter than you.\"\n\nWithout staying any longer in the market, the peasant went\ndirectly to the palace, and placed himself exactly before the\nking's apartment. His majesty, being at a window where he could\nsee all that passed in the court, no sooner cast his eyes on this\nbeautiful bird, than he sent an officer of his eunuchs to buy it\nfor him. The officer going to the peasant, demanded of him how\nmuch he would have for the bird? \"If it be for his majesty,\"\nanswered the. peasant, \"I humbly beg of him to accept it of me as\na present, and I desire you to carry it to him.\" The officer took\nthe bird to the king, who found it so great a rarity, that he\nordered the same officer to take ten pieces of gold, and carry\nthem to the peasant, who departed very well satisfied. The king\nordered the bird to be put into a magnificent cage, and gave it\ncorn and water in rich vessels.\n\nThe king being then ready to mount on horseback to go a hunting,\nhad not time to consider the bird, therefore had it brought to\nhim as soon as he returned. The officer brought the cage, and the\nking, that he might the better view the bird, took it out\nhimself; and perched it upon his hand. Looking earnestly upon it,\nhe demanded of the officer, if he had seen it eat. \"Sir,\" replied\nthe officer, \"your majesty may observe the vessel with his food\nis still full, and I have not observed that he has touched any of\nit.\" Then the king ordered him meat of divers sorts, that he\nmight take what he liked best.\n\nThe table being spread, and dinner served up just as the king had\ngiven these orders, as soon as the dishes were placed, the bird,\nclapping his wings, leaped off the king's hand, flew upon the\ntable, where he began to peck the bread and victuals, sometimes\non one plate and sometimes on another. The king was so surprised\nthat he immediately sent the officer of the eunuchs to desire the\nqueen to come and see this wonder. The officer related it to her\nmajesty, and she came forthwith; but she no sooner saw the bird,\nthan she covered her face with her veil, and would have retired.\nThe king, surprised at her proceeding, as there was none present\nin the chamber but the eunuchs and the women who attended her,\nasked the reason of her conduct.\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the queen, \"your majesty will no longer be\nsurprised, when you understand, that this is not as you suppose a\nbird, but a man.\" \"Madam,\" said the king, more astonished than\nbefore, \"you mean to banter me; but you shall never persuade me\nthat a bird can be a man.\" \"Sir,\" replied the queen, \"far be it\nfrom me to banter your majesty; nothing is more certain than what\nI have had the honour to tell you. I can assure your majesty, it\nis the king of Persia, named Beder, son of the celebrated\nGulnare, princess of one of the largest kingdoms of the sea,\nnephew of Saleh, king of that kingdom, and grandson of Queen\nFarasche, mother of Gulnare and Saleh; and it was the Princess\nJehaun-ara, daughter of the king of Samandal, who thus\nmetamorphosed him into a bird.\" That the king might no longer\ndoubt of what she affirmed, she told him the whole story, and\nstated that the Princess Jehaun-ara had thus revenged herself for\nthe ill treatment which King Saleh had used towards the king of\nSamandal her father.\n\nThe king had the less difficulty to believe this assertion of the\nqueen, as he knew her to be a skilful magician. And as she knew\neverything which passed in every part of the world, he was always\nby her means timely informed of the designs of the kings his\nneighbours against him, and prevented them. His majesty had\ncompassion on the king of Persia, and earnestly besought his\nqueen to break the enchantment, that he might return to his own\nform.\n\nThe queen consented with great willingness. \"Sir,\" said she to\nthe king, \"be pleased to take the bird into your closet, and I\nwill shew you a king worthy of the consideration you have for\nhim.\" The bird, which had ceased eating, and attended to what the\nking and queen said, would not give his majesty the trouble to\ntake him, but hopped into the closet before him; and the queen\ncame in soon after, with a vessel full of water in her hand. She\npronounced over the vessel some words unknown to the king, till\nthe water began to boil; when she took some of it in her hand,\nand sprinkling a little upon the bird, said, \"By virtue of those\nholy and mysterious words I have just pronounced, and in the name\nof the Creator of heaven and earth, who raises the dead, and\nsupports the universe, quit the form of a bird, and re-assume\nthat received from thy Creator.\"\n\nThe words were scarcely out of the queen's mouth, when, instead\nof a bird, the king saw a young prince of good shape, air, and\nmien. King Beder immediately fell on his knees, and thanked God\nfor the favour that had been bestowed upon him. He then took the\nking's hand, who helped him up, and kissed it in token of\ngratitude; but the king embraced him with great joy, and\ntestified to him the satisfaction he had to see him. He would\nthen have made his acknowledgments to the queen, but she was\nalready retired to her apartment. The king made him sit at the\ntable with him, and prayed him to relate how the Princess\nJehaun-ara could have the inhumanity to transform into a bird so\namiable a prince; and the king of Persia immediately satisfied\nhim. When he had ended, the king, provoked at the proceeding of\nthe princess, could not help blaming her. \"It was commendable,\"\nsaid he, \"in the princess of Samandal not to be insensible of the\nking her father's ill treatment; but to carry her vengeance so\nfar, and especially against a prince who was not culpable, was\nwhat she could never be able to ,justify herself for. But let us\nhave done with this subject, and tell me, I beseech you, in what\nI can farther serve you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered King Beder, \"my obligation to your majesty is so\ngreat, that I ought to remain with you all my life to testify my\ngratitude; but since your majesty sets no limits to your\ngenerosity, I entreat you to grant me one of your ships to\ntransport me to Persia, where I fear my absence, which has been\nbut too long, may have occasioned some disorder, and that the\nqueen my mother, from whom I concealed my departure, may be\ndistracted under the uncertainty whether I am alive or dead.\"\n\nThe king readily granted what he desired, and immediately gave\norders for equipping one of his largest ships, and the best\nsailors in his numerous fleet. The ship was soon furnished with\nall its complement of men, provisions, and ammunition; and as\nsoon as the wind became fair, King Beder embarked, after having\ntaken leave of the king, and thanked him for all his favours.\n\nThe ship sailed before the wind for ten days together, but on the\neleventh the wind changed, and there followed a furious tempest.\nThe ship was not only driven out of its course, but so violently\ntossed, that all its masts were brought by the board; and driving\nalong at the pleasure of the wind, it at length struck against a\nrock and bulged.\n\nThe greatest part of the people were instantly drowned. Some few\nwere saved by swimming, and others by getting on pieces of the\nwreck. King Beder was among the latter, when, after having been\ntossed about for some time by the waves and torrents, under great\nuncertainty of his fate, he at length perceived himself near the\nshore, and not far from a city that seemed of great extent. He\nexerted his remaining strength to reach the land, and was at\nlength so fortunate as to be able to touch the ground with his\nfeet. He immediately abandoned his piece of wood, which had been\nof such great service to him; but when he came pretty near the\nshore, was greatly surprised to see horses, camels, mules, asses,\noxen, cows, bulls, and other animals crowding to the shore, and\nputting themselves in a posture to oppose his landing. He had the\nutmost difficulty to conquer their obstinacy and force his way,\nbut at length he succeeded, and sheltered himself among the rocks\ntill he had recovered his breath, and dried his clothes in the\nsun.\n\nWhen the prince advanced to enter the city, he met with the same\nopposition from these animals, who seemed to intend to make him\nforego his design, and give him to understand it was dangerous to\nproceed.\n\nKing Beder, however, entered the city, and saw many fair and\nspacious streets, but was surprised to find no human beings. This\nmade him think it was not without cause that so many animals had\nopposed his passage. Going forward, nevertheless, he observed\ndivers shops open, which gave him reason to believe the place was\nnot so destitute of inhabitants as he imagined. He approached one\nof these shops, where several sorts of fruits were exposed for\nsale, and saluted very courteously an old man who was sitting\nwithin.\n\nThe old man, who was busy about something, lifted up his head,\nand seeing a youth who had an appearance of grandeur in his air,\nstarted, asked him whence he came, and what business had brought\nhim there? King Beder satisfied him in a few words; and the old\nman farther asked him if he had met anybody on the road? \"You are\nthe first person I have seen,\" answered the king, \"and I cannot\ncomprehend how so fine and large a city comes to be without\ninhabitants.\" \"Come in, sir; stay no longer upon the threshold,\"\nreplied the old man, \"or peradventure some misfortune may happen\nto you. I will satisfy your curiosity at leisure, and give you a\nreason why it is necessary you should take this precaution.\"\n\nKing Beder entered the shop, and sat down by the old man. The\nlatter, who had received from him an account of his misfortunes,\nknew he must want nourishment, therefore immediately presented\nhim what was necessary to recover his strength; and although King\nBeder was very earnest to know why he had taken the precaution to\nmake him enter the shop, he would nevertheless not be prevailed\nupon to tell him anything till he had done eating, for fear the\nsad things he had to relate might spoil his appetite. When he\nfound he ate no longer, he said to him, \"You have great reason to\nthank God that you got hither without any accident.\" \"Alas! why?\"\ndemanded King Beder, much surprised and alarmed.\n\n\"Because,\" answered he, \"this city is the City of Enchantments,\nand is governed by a queen, who is not only one of the finest of\nher sex, but likewise a notorious and dangerous sorceress. You\nwill be convinced of this,\" added he, \"when you know that these\nhorses, mules, and other animals which you have seen, are so many\nmen, like ourselves, whom she has transformed by her diabolical\nart. And when young men, like you, enter the city, she has\npersons planted to stop and bring them, either by fair means or\nforce, before her. She receives them in the most obliging manner;\ncaresses them, regales them, lodges them magnificently, and gives\nthem so many reasons to believe that she loves them, that she\nnever fails of success. But she does not suffer them long to\nenjoy this happiness. There is not one of them but she has\ntransformed into some animal or bird at the end of forty days.\nYou told me all these animals presented themselves to oppose your\nlanding, and hinder you entering the city. This was the only way\nin which they could make you comprehend the danger you were going\nto expose yourself to, and they did all in their power to prevent\nyou.\"\n\nThis account exceedingly afflicted the young king of Persia:\n\"Alas!\" cried he, \"to what extremities has my ill fortune reduced\nme! I am hardly freed from one enchantment, which I look back\nupon with horror, but I find myself exposed to another much more\nterrible.\" This gave him occasion to relate his story to the old\nman more at length, and to acquaint him of his birth, quality,\nhis passion for the princess of Samandal, .and her cruelty in\nchanging him into a bird the very moment he had seen her and\ndeclared his love to her.\n\nWhen the prince came to speak of his good fortune in finding a\nqueen who broke the enchantment, the old man to encourage him\nsaid, \"Notwithstanding all I have told you of the magic queen is\ntrue, that ought not to give you the least disquiet, since I am\ngenerally beloved throughout the city, and am not unknown to the\nqueen herself, who has much respect for me; therefore it was your\npeculiar good fortune which led you to address yourself to me\nrather than to anyone else. You are secure in my house, where I\nadvise you to continue, if you think fit; and, provided you .do\nnot stray from hence, I dare assure you, you will have no just\ncause to complain of my insincerity.\"\n\nKing Beder thanked the old man for his kind reception, and the\nprotection he was pleased so readily to afford him. He sat down\nat the entrance of the shop, where he no sooner appeared, but his\nyouth and good person attracted the eyes of all who passed that\nway. Many stopped and complimented the old man on his having\nacquired so fine a slave, as they imagined the king to be; and\nthey were the more surprised as they could not comprehend how so\nbeautiful a youth could escape the queen's knowledge. \"Believe\nnot,\" said the old man, \"this is a slave: you all know that I am\nnot rich enough nor of rank to have one of this consequence. He\nis my nephew, son of a brother of mine who is dead; and as I had\nno children of my own, I sent for him to keep me company.\" They\ncongratulated his good fortune in having so fine a young man for\nhis relation; but could not help telling him they feared the\nqueen would take him from him. \"You know her well,\" said they to\nhim, \"and you cannot be ignorant of the danger to which you are\nexposed, after all the examples you have seen. How grieved would\nyou be if she should serve him as she has done so many others\nwhom we knew.\"\n\n\"I am obliged to you,\" replied the old man, \"for your good will\ntowards me, and I heartily thank you for the care you seem to\ntake of my interest; but I shall never entertain the least\nthought that the queen will do me any injury, after all the\nkindness she has professed for me. In case she happens to hear of\nthis young man, and speaks to me about him, I doubt not she will\ncease to think of him, as soon as she comes to know he is my\nnephew.\"\n\nThe old man was exceedingly glad to hear the commendations they\nbestowed on the young king of Persia. He was as much affected\nwith them as if he had been his own son, and he conceived a\nkindness for him, which augmented every day during the stay he\nmade with him.\n\nThey had lived about a month together, when, as King Beder was\nsitting at the shop-door, after his ordinary manner, Queen Labe\n(so was this magic queen named) happened to come by with great\npomp. The young king no sooner perceived the guards advancing\nbefore her, than he arose, and going into the shop, asked the old\nman what all that show meant. \"The queen is coming by,\" answered\nhe, \"but stand still and fear nothing.\"\n\nThe queen's guards, clothed in purple uniform, and well armed and\nmounted, marched to the number of a thousand in four files, with\ntheir sabres drawn, and every one of their officers, as they\npassed by the shop, saluted the old man. Then followed a like\nnumber of eunuchs, habited in brocaded silk, and better mounted,\nwhose officers did the old man the like honour. Next came as many\nyoung ladies on foot, equally beautiful, richly dressed, and\nornamented with precious stones. They marched gravely, with half\npikes in their hands; and in the midst of them appeared Queen\nLabe, on a horse glittering with diamonds, with a golden saddle,\nand a housing of inestimable value. All the young ladies saluted\nthe old man as they passed him; and the queen, struck with the\ngood mien of King Beder, stopped as soon as she came before the\nshop. \"Abdallah,\" (so was the old man named) said she to him,\n\"tell me, I beseech thee, does that beautiful and charming slave\nbelong to thee? and hast thou long been in possession of him?\"\n\nAbdallah, before he answered the queen, threw himself on the\nground, and rising again, said, \"Madam, he is my nephew, son of a\nbrother, who has not long been dead. Having no children, I look\nupon him as my son, and sent for him to come and comfort me,\nintending to leave him what I have when I die.\"\n\nQueen Labe, who had never yet seen any one to compare with King\nBeder, began to conceive a passion for him, and thought\nimmediately of getting the old man to abandon him to her.\n\"Father,\" said she, \"will you not oblige me so far as to make me\na present of this young man? Do not refuse me, I conjure you; and\nI swear by the fire and the light, I will make him so great and\npowerful, that no individual in the world ever arrived at such\ngood fortune. Although my purpose be to do evil to all mankind,\nhe shall be an exception. I trust you will grant me what I\ndesire, more on account of the friendship I am assured you have\nfor me, than for the esteem you know I always had, and shall ever\nhave for you.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the good Abdallah, \"I am infinitely obliged to\nyour majesty for all the kind- ness you have for me, and the\nhonours you propose to do my nephew. He is not worthy to approach\nso great a queen, and I humbly beseech your majesty to excuse\nhim.\"\n\n\"Abdallah,\" replied the queen, \"I all along flattered myself you\nloved me, and I could never have thought you would have shewn me\nso much disrespect as to slight my request. But I here swear once\nmore by the fire and light, and even by whatsoever is most sacred\nin my religion, that I will pass on no farther till I have\nconquered your obstinacy. I understand well what raises your\napprehensions; but I promise, you shall never have any occasion\nto repent having obliged me in so sensible a manner.\"\n\nOld Abdallah was exceeding grieved, both on his own account and\nKing Beder's, at being in a manner forced to obey the queen.\n\"Madam,\" replied he, \"I would not willingly have your majesty\nentertain an ill opinion of the respect I have for you, and my\nzeal always to contribute whatever I can to oblige you. I put\nentire confidence in your royal word, and I do not in the least\ndoubt you will keep it. I only beg of your majesty, to delay\ndoing this great honour to my nephew till you shall again pass\nthis way.\" \"That shall be to-morrow,\" said the queen; who\ninclined her head, as a token of her being pleased, and so went\nforward towards her palace.\n\nWhen queen Labe and all her attendants were out of sight, the\ngood Abdallah said to King Beder, \"Son\" (for so he was wont to\ncall him, for fear of some time or other discovering him when he\nspoke of him in public), \"it has not been in my power, as you may\nhave observed, to refuse the queen what she demanded of me with\nso much earnestness, to the end I might not force her to employ\nher magic against both you and myself openly or secretly, and\ntreat you as much from resentment to you as to me with more\nsignal cruelty than all those she has had in her power, as I have\nalready told you. But I have some reason to believe she will use\nyou well, as she promised me, on account of that particular\nesteem she professes for me. This you may have seen by the\nrespect shewn, and the honours paid, me by all her court. She\nwould be a vile creature indeed, if she should deceive me; but\nshe shall not deceive me unpunished, for I know how to revenge\nmyself.\"\n\nThese assurances, which appeared very doubtful, were not\nsufficient to support King Beder's spirits. \"After all you have\ntold me of this queen's wickedness,\" replied he, \"you cannot\nwonder if I am somewhat fearful to approach her: I should, it may\nbe, slight all you could tell me of her, and suffer myself to be\ndazzled by the lustre of grandeur that surrounds her, did I not\nknow by experience what it is to be at the mercy of a sorceress.\nThe condition I was in, through the enchantment of the Princess\nJehaun-ara, and from which I was delivered only to fall almost\nimmediately into the power of another, has made me look upon such\na fate with horror.\" His tears hindered him from going on, and\nsufficiently shewed with what repugnance he beheld himself under\nthe fatal necessity of being delivered to queen Labe.\n\n\"Son,\" replied old Abdallah, \"do not afflict yourself; for though\nI must own, there is no great stress to be laid upon the promises\nand oaths of so perfidious a queen, yet I must withal acquaint\nyou, her power extends not to me. She knows this full well; and\nthat is the reason, and no other, why she pays me so much\nrespect. I can quickly hinder her from doing you the least harm,\nif she should be perfidious enough to attempt it. You may depend\nupon me, and, provided you follow exactly the advice I shall give\nyou, before I abandon you to her, she shall have no more power\nover you than she has over myself.\"\n\nThe magic queen did not fail to pass by the old man's shop the\nnext day, with the same pomp as the preceding, and Abdallah\nwaited for her with great respect. \"Father,\" cried she, \"you may\njudge of my impatience to have your nephew with me, by my\npunctually coming to remind you of your promise. I know you are a\nman of your word, and I cannot think you will break it with me.\"\n\nAbdallah, who fell on his face as soon as he saw the queen\napproaching, rose up when she had done speaking; and as he would\nhave no one hear what he had to say to her, he advanced with\ngreat respect as far as her horse's head, and then said softly,\n\"Puissant queen! I am persuaded your majesty will not be offended\nat my seeming unwillingness to trust my nephew with you\nyesterday, since you cannot be ignorant of the reasons I had for\nit; but I conjure you to lay aside the secrets of that art which\nyou possess in so wonderful a degree. I regard my nephew as my\nown son; and your majesty would reduce me to despair, if you\nshould deal with him as you have done with others.\"\n\n\"I promise you I will not,\" replied the queen; \"and I once more\nrepeat the oath I made yesterday, that neither you nor your\nnephew shall have any cause to be offended at me. I see plainly,\"\nadded she, \"you are not yet well enough acquainted with me; you\nnever saw me yet but through my veil; but as I find your nephew\ndeserving of my friendship, I will shew you I am not any ways\nunworthy of his.\" With that she threw off her veil, and\ndiscovered to King Beder, who came near her with Abdallah, an\nincomparable beauty. But King Beder was little charmed: \"It is\nnot enough,\" said he within himself, \"to be beautiful; one's\nactions ought to correspond in regularity with one's features.\"\n\nWhilst King Beder was making these reflections with his eyes\nfixed on queen Labe, the old man turned towards him, and taking\nhim by the arm, presented him to her: \"Madam,\" said he, \"I beg of\nyour majesty once more to remember he is my nephew, and to let\nhim come and see me sometimes.\" The queen promised he should; and\nto give a further mark of her gratitude, she caused a bag of a\nthousand pieces of gold to be given him. He excused himself at\nfirst from receiving them, but she insisted absolutely upon it,\nand he could not refuse. She had caused a horse to be brought as\nrichly caparisoned as her own, for the king of Persia. Whilst he\nwas mounting, \"I forgot,\" said the queen to Abdallah, \"to ask you\nyour nephew's name; pray how is he called?\" He answering his name\nwas Beder (the full moon), her majesty replied, \"Surely your\nancestors were mistaken, they ought to have given you the name of\nShems (the sun).\"\n\nWhen King Beder was mounted, he would have taken his station\nbehind the queen, but she would not suffer him, and made him ride\non her left hand. She looked at Abdallah, and after having made\nhim an inclination with her head, departed.\n\nInstead of observing a satisfaction in the people's faces, at the\nsight of their sovereign, King Beder took notice that they looked\nat her with contempt, and even cursed her. \"The sorceress,\" said\nsome, \"has got a new subject to exercise her wickedness upon;\nwill heaven never deliver the world from her tyranny?\" \"Poor\nstranger!\" exclaimed others, \"thou art much deceived, if thou\nthinkest thy happiness will last long. It is only to render thy\nfall more terrible, that thou art raised so high.\" These\nexclamations gave King Beder to understand Abdallah had told him\nnothing but the truth of Queen Labe; but as it now depended no\nlonger on himself to escape the mischief, he committed himself to\nthe will of heaven.\n\nThe magic queen arrived at her palace, immediately alighted, and\ngiving her hand to King Beder, entered with him, accompanied by\nher women and the officers of her eunuchs. She herself shewed him\nall her apartments, where there was nothing to be seen but\nmassive gold, precious stones, and furniture of wonderful\nmagnificence. When she had carried him into her closet, she led\nhim out into a balcony, from whence he observed a garden of\nsurprising beauty. King Beder commended all he saw, but\nnevertheless so that he might not be discovered to be any other\nthan old Abdallah's nephew. They discoursed of indifferent\nmatters, till the queen was informed that dinner was served.\n\nThe queen and King Beder arose, and went to place themselves at\nthe table, which was of massive gold, and the dishes of the same\nmetal. They began to eat, but drank hardly at all till the\ndessert came, when the queen caused a cup to be filled for her\nwith excellent wine. She took it and drank to King Beder's\nhealth; then without putting it out of her hand, caused it to be\nfilled again, and presented it to him. King Beder received it\nwith profound respect, and by a very low bow signified to her\nmajesty that he in return drank to her health.\n\nAt the same time, ten of Queen Labe's women entered with musical\ninstruments, with which and their voices they made an agreeable\nconcert, while they continued drinking till late at night. At\nlength both began so to be heated with wine; that King Beder\ninsensibly forgot he had to do with a magic queen, and looked\nupon her only as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As\nsoon as the queen perceived she had wrought him to the pitch she\ndesired, she made a sign to her eunuchs and women to retire.\n\nNext morning the queen and King Beder went to the bath; the women\nwho had served the king there, presented him with fine linen and\na magnificent habit. The queen likewise, who was more splendidly\ndressed than the day before, came to receive him, and they went\ntogether to her apartments, where they had a repast brought them,\nand spent the remainder of the day in walking in the garden and\nin various other amusements.\n\nQueen Labe treated King Beder after this manner for forty days,\nas she had been accustomed to do all her lovers. The fortieth\nnight, as they were in bed together, she, believing he was really\nasleep, arose without making any noise; but he was awake, and\nperceiving she had some design upon him watched all her motions.\nBeing up, she opened a chest, from whence she took a little box\nfull of a yellow powder; taking some of the powder, she Iaid a\ntrain of it across the chamber, and it immediately flowed in a\nrivulet of water, to the great astonishment of King Beder. He\ntrembled with fear, but still pretended to sleep.\n\nQueen Labe next took up some of the water in a vessel, poured it\ninto a basin that contained some flour; with which she made a\npaste, and kneaded it for a long time: then she mixed with it\ncertain drugs which she took from different boxes, and made a\ncake, which she put into a covered baking-pan. As she had taken\ncare first of all to make a good fire, she took some of the\ncoals, and set the pan upon them; and while the cake was baking,\nshe put up the vessels and boxes in their places again; and on\nher pronouncing certain words, the rivulet disappeared. When the\ncake was baked, she took it off the coals, carried it into her\ncloset, and afterwards returned to King Beder, who dissembled so\nwell, that she had not the least suspicion of his having seen\nwhat she had done.\n\nKing Beder, whom the pleasures and amusements of a court had made\nto forget his good host Abdallah, began now to think of him\nagain, and believed he had more than ordinary occasion for his\nadvice, after all he had seen the queen do that night. As soon as\nhe was up, therefore, he expressed a great desire to go and see\nhis uncle, and begged of her majesty to permit him. \"What! my\ndear Beder,\" cried the queen, \"are you then already tired, I will\nnot say with living in so superb a palace as mine is, where you\nmust find so many pleasures, but with the company of a queen, who\nloves you so passionately as I do, and has given you so many\nmarks of affection?\"\n\n\"Great queen!\" answered king Beder, \"how can I be tired of so\nmany favours and graces as your majesty perpetually heaps upon\nme? So far from it, I desire this permission, madam, purely to go\nand give my uncle an account of the mighty obligations I have to\nyour majesty. I must own, likewise, that my uncle loving me so\ntenderly, as I well know he does, having been absent from him now\nforty days, I would not give him reason to think, that I consent\nto remain longer without seeing him.\" \"Go,\" said the queen, \"you\nhave my consent; but you will not be long before you return, if\nyou consider I cannot possibly live without you.\" This said, she\nordered him a horse richly caparisoned, and he departed.\n\nOld Abdallah was overjoyed to see king Beder. Without regard to\nhis quality, he embraced him tenderly, and King Beder returned\nhis embrace, that nobody might doubt but that he was his nephew.\nAs soon as they were sat down, \"well,\" said Abdallah to the king,\n\"and how have you passed your time with that abominable\nsorceress\"\n\n\"Hitherto,\" answered King Beder, \"I must needs own she has been\nextraordinarily kind to me, and has done all she could to\npersuade me that she loves me faithfully; but I observed\nsomething last night, which gives me just reason to suspect that\nall her kindness was but dissimulation. Whilst she thought me\nasleep, although I was really awake, she stole from me with a\ngreat deal of precaution, which made me suspect her intention,\nand therefore I resolved to watch her, still feigning myself\nasleep.\" He then related to Abdallah in what manner he had seen\nher make the cake; and then added, \"Hitherto,\" said he, \"I must\nneeds confess, I had almost forgotten, not only you, but all the\nadvice you gave me concerning the wickedness of this queen; but\nthis last action of hers gives me reason to fear she intends to\nobserve none of her promises or solemn oaths .to you. I thought\nof you immediately, and I esteem myself happy that I have\nobtained permission to come to you.\"\n\n\"You are not mistaken,\" replied old Abdallah with a smile, which\nshowed he did not himself believe she would have acted otherwise;\n\"nothing is capable of obliging a perfidious woman to amend. But\nfear nothing. I know how to make the mischief she intends you\nfall upon herself. You are alarmed in time; and you could not\nhave done better than to have recourse to me. It is her ordinary\npractice to keep her lovers only forty days; and after that time,\ninstead of seeding them home, to turn them into animals, to stock\nher forests and parks; but I thought of measures yesterday to\nprevent her doing you the same harm. The earth has borne this\nmonster long enough, and it is now high time she should be\ntreated as she deserves.\"\n\nSo saying, Abdallah put two cakes into king Beder's hands,\nbidding him keep them to be used as he should direct. \"You told\nme,\" continued he, \"the sorceress made a cake last night; it was\nfor you to eat; but do not touch it. Nevertheless, do not refuse\nto receive it, when she offers it you; but instead of tasting it,\nbreak off part of one of the two I shall give you, unobserved,\nand eat that. As soon as she thinks you have swallowed it, she\nwill not fail to attempt transforming you into some animal, but\nshe shall not succeed; when she sees that she has failed, she\nwill immediately turn her proceeding into pleasantry, as if what\nshe had done was only out of joke to frighten you; but she will\nconceal a mortal grief in her heart, and think she has omitted\nsomething in the composition of her cake. As for the other cake,\nyou shall make a present of it to her, and press her to eat it;\nwhich she will not refuse to do, were it only to convince you she\ndoes not mistrust you, though she has given you so much reason to\nmistrust her. When she has eaten of it, take a little water in\nthe hollow of your hand, and throwing it in her face, say, \"Quit\nthat form you now wear, and take that of such or such animal,\" as\nyou shall think fit; which done, come to me with the animal, and\nI will tell you what you shall do afterwards.\"\n\nKing Beder expressed to Abdallah, in the warmest terms, his great\nobligations to him, for his endeavours to defend him from the\npower of a pestilent sorceress; and after some further\nconversation took his leave of him, and returned to the palace.\nUpon his arrival, he understood that the queen waited for him\nwith great impatience in the garden. He went to her, and she no\nsooner perceived him, than she came in great haste to meet him.\n\"My dear Beder!\" exclaimed she, \"it is said, with a great deal of\nreason, that nothing more forcibly shews the excess of love than\nabsence from the object beloved. I have had no quiet since I saw\nyou, and it seems ages since I have been separated from you. If\nyou had stayed ever so little longer, I was preparing to come and\nfetch you once more to my arms.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied king Beder, \"I can assure your majesty, I was no\nless impatient to rejoin you; but I could not refuse to stay with\nan uncle who loves me, and had not seen me for so long a time. He\nwould have kept me still longer, but I tore myself away from him,\nto come where love calls me. Of all the collations he prepared\nfor me, I have only brought away this cake, which I desire your\nmajesty to accept.\" King Beder, having wrapped up one of the two\ncakes in a handkerchief, took it out, and presented it to the\nqueen, saying, \"I beg your majesty to accept of it.\"\n\n\"I do accept it with all my heart,\" replied the queen, receiving\nit, \"and will eat it with pleasure for yours and your good\nuncle's sake; but before I taste of it, I desire you will, for my\nsake, eat a piece of this, which I have made for you during your\nabsence.\" \"Fair queen,\" answered king Beder, receiving it with\ngreat respect, \"such hands as your majesty's can never make\nanything but what is excellent, and I cannot sufficiently\nacknowledge the favour you do me.\"\n\nKing Beder then artfully substituted in the place of the queen's\ncake the other which old Abdallah had given him, and having\nbroken off a piece, he put it in his mouth, and cried, while he\nwas eating, \"Ah! queen, I never tasted anything so excellent in\nmy life.\" They being near a cascade, the sorceress seeing him\nswallow one bit of the cake, and ready to eat another, took a\nlittle water in the palm of her hand, and throwing it in the\nking's face, said, \"Wretch! quit that form ofa man, and take that\nof a vile horse, blind and lame.\"\n\nThese words not having the desired effect, the sorceress was\nstrangely surprised to find King Beder still in the same form,\nand that he only started for fear. Her cheeks reddened; and as\nshe saw that she had missed her aim, \"Dear Beder,\" cried she,\n\"this is nothing; recover yourself. I did not intend you any\nharm; I only did it to see what you would say. I should be the\nmost miserable and most execrable of women, should I attempt so\nblack a deed; not only on account of all the oaths I have sworn,\nbut also of the many testimonies of love I have given you.\"\n\n\"Puissant queen,\" replied King Beder, \"persuaded as I am, that\nwhat your majesty did was only to divert yourself, I could not\nhelp being surprised. What could hinder me from being a little\nmoved at the pronouncing of so strange a transformation? But,\nmadam,\" continued he, \"let us drop this discourse; and since I\nhave eaten of your cake, would you do me the favour to taste\nmine?\"\n\nQueen Labe, who could not better justify herself than by showing\nthis mark of confidence in the king of Persia, broke off a piece\nof his cake and ate it. She had no sooner swallowed it than she\nappeared much troubled, and remained as it were motionless. King\nBeder lost no time, but took water out of the same basin, and\nthrowing it in her face, cried, \"Abominable sorceress ! quit the\nform of woman, and be turned instantly into a mare.\"\n\nThe same moment, Queen Labe was transformed into a very beautiful\nmare; and her confusion was so great to find herself in that\ncondition, that she shed tears in great abundance. She bowed her\nhead to the feet of King Beder, thinking to move him to\ncompassion; but though he could have been so moved, it was\nabsolutely out of his power to repair the mischief he had done.\nHe led her into the stable belonging to the palace, and put her\ninto the hands of a groom, to bridle and saddle; but of all the\nbridles which the groom tried upon her, not one would fit. This\nmade him cause two horses to be saddled, one for the groom and\nthe other for himself; and the groom led the mare after him to\nold Abdallah's.\n\nAbdallah seeing at a distance King Beder coming with the mare,\ndoubted not but he had done what he had advised him. \"Cursed\nsorceress!\" said he immediately to himself in a transport of joy,\n\"heaven has at length punished thee as thou deservest.\" King\nBeder alighted at Abdallah's door and entered with him into the\nshop, embracing and thanking him for all the signal services he\nhad done him. He related to him the whole matter, with all its\ncircumstances, and moreover told him, he could find no bridle fit\nfor the mare. Abdallah bridled the mare himself, and as soon as\nKing Beder had sent back the groom with the two horses, he said\nto him, \"My lord, you have no reason to stay any longer in this\ncity: mount the mare, and return to your kingdom. I have but one\nthing more to recommend to you; and that is, if you should ever\nhappen to part with the mare, be sure not to give up the bridle.\"\nKing Beder promised to remember this; and having taken leave of\nthe good old man, he departed.\n\nThe young king of Persia had no sooner got out of the city, than\nhe began to reflect with joy on his deliverance, and that he had\nthe sorceress in his power, who had given him so much cause to\ntremble. Three days after he arrived at a great city, where,\nentering the suburbs, he met a venerable old man, walking towards\na pleasure- house. \"Sir,\" said the old man, stopping him, \"may I\npresume to ask from what part of the world you come?\" The king\nhalted to satisfy him, and as they were conversing together, an\nold woman came up; who, stopping likewise, wept and sighed\nheavily at the sight of the mare.\n\nKing Beder and the old man left off discoursing, to look at the\nold woman, whom the king asked, what cause she had to be so much\nafflicted? \"Alas ! sir,\" replied she, \"it is because your mare\nresembles so perfectly one my son had, and which I still mourn\nthe loss of on his account, and should think yours were the same,\ndid I not know she was dead. Sell her to me, I beseech you; I\nwill give you more than she is worth and thank you too.'\n\n\"Good woman,\" replied King Beder, \"I am heartily sorry I cannot\ncomply with your request: my mare is not to be sold.\" \"Alas!\nsir,\" continued the old woman, \"do not refuse me this favour for\nthe love of God. My son and I shall certainly die with grief, if\nyou do not grant it.\" \"Good mother,\" replied the king, \"I would\ngrant it with all my heart, if I were disposed to part with so\ngood a beast; but if I were so disposed, I believe you would\nhardly give a thousand pieces of gold for her, and I could not\nsell her for less.\" \"Why should I not give so much?\" replied the\nold woman: \"if that be the lowest price, you need only say you\nwill take it, and I will fetch you the money.\"\n\nKing Beder, seeing the old woman so poorly dressed, could not\nimagine she could find such a sum; and said, to try her, \"Go,\nfetch me the money, and the mare is yours.\" The old woman\nimmediately unloosed a purse she carried fastened to her girdle,\nand desiring him to alight, bade him tell over the money, and in\ncase he found it came short of the sum demanded, she said her\nhouse was not far off; and she could quickly fetch the rest.\n\nThe surprise of King Beder, at the sight of the purse, was not\nsmall. \"Good woman,\" said he, \"do you not perceive I have\nbantered you all this while? I assure you my mare is not to be\nsold.\"\n\nThe old man, who had been witness to all that had passed, now\nbegan to speak. \"Son,\" said he to King Beder, \"it is necessary\nyou should know one thing, which I find you are ignorant of; and\nthat is, that in this city it is not permitted to any one to tell\na lie, on any account whatsoever, on pain of death. You cannot\nrefuse taking this good woman's money, and delivering your mare,\nwhen she gives you the sum according to the agreement; and this\nyou had better do without any noise, than expose yourself to what\nmay ensue.\"\n\nKing Beder, mortified to find himself thus trapped by his rash\nproffer, alighted with great regret. The old woman stood ready to\nseize the reins, immediately unbridled the mare, and taking some\nwater in her hand, from a stream that ran in the middle of the\nstreet, threw it in the mare's face, uttering these words,\n\"Daughter, quit that strange shape, and re-assume thy own.\" The\ntransformation was effected in a moment, and king Beder, who\nswooned as soon as he saw Queen Labe appear, would have fallen to\nthe ground, if the old man had not hindered him.\n\nThe old woman, who was the mother of queen Labe, and had\ninstructed her in all her magic secrets, had no sooner embraced\nher daughter, than to shew her fury, she in an instant by\nwhistling, caused to rise a genie of a gigantic form and stature.\nThis genie immediately took King Beder on one shoulder, and the\nold woman with the magic queen on the other, and transported them\nin a few minutes to the palace of Queen Labe in the City of\nEnchantments.\n\nThe magic queen immediately fell upon King Beder, reproaching him\nviolently. \"Is it thus,\" said she, \"ungrateful wretch! that thy\nunworthy uncle and thou repay me for all the kindnesses I have\ndone you? I shall soon make you both feel what you deserve.\" She\nsaid no more, but taking water in her hand, threw it in his face\nwith these words, \"Quit the form of man, and take that of an\nowl.\" These words were soon followed by the effect, and\nimmediately she commanded one of her women to shut up the owl in\na cage, and give him neither meat nor drink.\n\nThe woman took the cage, but without regarding what the queen had\nordered, gave him both meat and drink; and being old Abdallah's\nfriend, sent him word privately how the queen had treated his\nnephew, and apprised him of her design to destroy both him and\nKing Beder, that he might take measures to prevent her\nintentions, and secure himself.\n\nAbdallah knew no common means would do with Queen Labe: he\ntherefore whistled in a peculiar manner, and there immediately\narose a giant, with four wings, who presenting himself before\nhim, asked what he would have?\" Lightning,\" said Abdallah to him\n(for so was the genie called), \"I command you to preserve the\nlife of King Beder, son of Queen Gulnare. Go to the palace of the\nmagic queen, and transport immediately to the capital of Persia\nthe compassionate woman who has the cage in custody, to the end\nshe may inform Queen Gulnare of the danger the king her son is\nin, and the occasion he has for her assistance. Take care not to\nfrighten her when you come before her, and acquaint her from me\nwhat she ought to do.\"\n\nLightning immediately disappeared, and in an instant reached the\npalace of the magic queen. He instructed the woman, lifted her up\ninto the air, and transported her to the capital of Persia, where\nhe placed her on the terrace of Gulnare's palace. She descended\ninto her apartment, and there found Queen Gulnare and Queen\nFarasche her mother lamenting their mutual misfortunes. She made\nthem a profound reverence, and by the relation she gave them,\nthey soon understood the great need King Beder had of their\nassistance.\n\nQueen Gulnare was so overjoyed at the news, that rising from her\nseat, she went and embraced the good woman, telling her how much\nshe was obliged to her for the service she had done her. Then\ngoing immediately out, she commanded the trumpets to sound, and\nthe drums to beat, to acquaint the city, that the king of Persia\nwould suddenly return safe to his kingdom. She then went, and\nfound King Saleh her brother, whom Farasche had caused to come\nspeedily thither by a certain fumigation. \"Brother,\" said she to\nhim, \"the king your nephew, my dear son, is in the City of\nEnchantments, under the power of Queen Labe. Both you and I must\ngo to deliver him, for there is no time to be lost.\"\n\nKing Saleh forthwith assembled a puissant body of his marine\ntroops, who soon rose out of the sea. He also called to his\nassistance the genii his allies, who appeared with a much more\nnumerous army than his own. As soon as the two armies were\njoined, he put himself at the head of them, with Queen Farasche,\nQueen Gulnare, and the princesses, who would all have their share\nin this enterprize. They then ascended into the air, and soon\npoured down on the palace and City of Enchantments, where the\nmagic queen, her mother, and all the adorers of fire, were\ndestroyed in an instant.\n\nQueen Gulnare had ordered the woman who brought the account of\nqueen Labe's transforming and imprisoning her son, to follow her\nclose, and bade her, in the confusion, go and seize the cage, and\nbring it to her. This order was executed as she wished, and queen\nGulnare was no sooner in possession of the cage, than she opened\nit, and took out the owl, saying, as she sprinkled a little water\nupon him, \"My dear son, quit that strange form, and resume thy\nnatural one of a man.\"\n\nIn a moment Queen Gulnare, instead of the hideous owl, beheld\nKing Beder her son. She immediately embraced him with an excess\nof joy, her tears supplying more forcibly the place of words. She\ncould not let him go; and Queen Farasche was obliged to force him\nfrom her in her turn. After her, he was likewise embraced by the\nking his uncle and his relations.\n\nQueen Gulnare's first care was to look out for old Abdallah, to\nwhom she had been obliged for the recovery of the king of Persia;\nand who being brought to her, she said to him, \"My obligations to\nyou have been so great, that there is nothing within my power but\nI would freely do for you, as a token of my acknowledgment. Do\nbut inform me in what I can serve you.\" \"Great queen,\" replied\nAbdallah, \"if the lady whom I sent to your majesty will but\nconsent to the marriage I offer her, and the king of Persia will\ngive me leave to reside at his court, I will spend the remainder\nof my days in his service.\" The queen then turned to the lady who\nwas present, and finding by her modest shame that she was not\naverse to the match proposed, she caused them to join hands, and\nthe king of Persia and she took care of their fortune.\n\nThis marriage occasioned the king of Persia to speak thus to the\nqueen: \"Madam,\" said he, \"I am heartily glad of this match which\nyour majesty has just made. There remains one more, which I\ndesire you to think of.\" Queen Gulnare did not at first\ncomprehend what marriage he meant; but after a little\nconsidering, she said, \"Of yours, you mean, son. I consent to it\nwith all my heart.\" Then turning, and looking at her brother's\nsea attendants, and the genii who were still present, \"Go,\" said\nshe, \"and traverse both sea and land, to seek the most lovely and\namiable princess, worthy of the king my son, and when you have\nfound her, come and tell us.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied king Beder, \"it is to no purpose for them to\ntake all that trouble. You have no doubt heard that I have\nalready given my heart to the princess of Samandal upon the bare\nrelation of her beauty. I have seen her, and do not repent of the\npresent I then made her. In a word, neither earth nor sea, in my\nopinion, can furnish a princess like her. It is true upon my\ndeclaring my love, she treated me in a way that would have\nextinguished any flame less strong than mine. But I hold her\nexcused; she could not treat me with less rigour, after your\nimprisoning the king her father, of which I was the innocent\ncause. But the king of Samandal may, perhaps, have changed his\nresolution; and his daughter the princess may consent to love me,\nwhen she sees her father has agreed to it.\"\n\n\"Son,\" replied queen Gulnare, \"if only the Princess Jehaun-ara\ncan make you happy, it is not my design to oppose you. The king\nyour uncle need only have the king of Samandal brought, and we\nshall see whether he be still of the same untractable temper.\"\n\nStrictly as the king of Samandal had been kept during his\ncaptivity by King Saleh's orders, yet he always had great respect\nshewn him. King Saleh caused a chafing-dish of coals to be\nbrought, into which he threw a certain composition, uttering at\nthe same time some mysterious words. As soon as the smoke began\nto arise, the palace shook, and immediately the king of Samandal,\nwith King Saleh's officers, appeared. The king of Persia cast\nhimself at the king of Samandal's feet, and, kneeling, said, \"It\nis no longer King Saleh that demands of your majesty the honour\nof your alliance for the king of Persia; it is the king of Persia\nhimself that humbly begs that boon; and I persuade myself your\nmajesty will not persist in being the cause of the death of a\nking, who can no longer live if he does not share life with the\namiable Princess Jehaun-ara.\"\n\nThe king of Samandal did not long suffer the king of Persia to\nremain at his feet. He embraced him, and obliging him to rise,\nsaid, \"I shall be sorry to have contributed in the least to the\ndeath of a monarch who is so worthy to live. If it be true that\nso precious a life cannot be preserved without the possession of\nmy daughter, live, sir, she is yours. She has always been\nobedient to my will, and I cannot think she will now oppose it.\"\nSpeaking these words, he ordered one of his officers, whom King\nSaleh had permitted to attend him, to go for the princess, and\nbring her to him immediately.\n\nThe princess continued where the king of Persia had left her. The\nofficer perceived her, and brought her soon with her women. The\nking of Samandal embraced her, and said, \"Daughter, I have\nprovided a husband for you; it is the king of Persia, the most\naccomplished monarch at present in the universe. The preference\nhe has given you over all other princesses obliges us both to\nexpress our gratitude.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the princess Jehaun-ara, \"your majesty well knows\nI never have presumed to disobey your will: I shall always be\nready to obey you; and I hope the king of Persia will forget my\nill treatment of him, and consider it was duty, not inclination,\nthat forced me to it.\"\n\nThe nuptials were celebrated in the palace of the City of\nEnchantments, with the greatest solemnity, as all the lovers of\nthe magic queen, who had resumed their pristine forms as soon as\nshe ceased to live, assisted at them, and came to return their\nthanks to the king of Persia, Queen Gulnare, and King Saleh. They\nwere all sons of kings, princes, or persons of high rank.\n\nKing Saleh conducted the king of Samandal to his dominions, and\nput him again in possession of his throne. The king of Persia, at\nthe height of his wishes, returned to his capital with Queen\nGulnare, Queen Farasche, and the princesses; the Queen Farasche\nand the princesses continued there till King Saleh came to\nreconduct them to his kingdom under the waves of the sea.\n\n\n\n\n\n             THE HISTORY OF PRINCE ZEYN ALASNAM AND\n                    THE SULTAN OF THE GENII.\n\n\n\nA sultan of Bussorah, who possessed great wealth, and was well\nbeloved by his subjects, had no children, which occasioned him\ngreat affliction; and therefore he made presents to all the holy\npersons in his dominions, to engage them to beg a son for him of\nHeaven: and their prayers being effectual, the queen proved with\nchild, and was happily delivered of a prince who was named Zeyn\nAlasnam, which signifies Ornament of the Statues.\n\nThe sultan caused all the astrologers in his kingdom to be\nassembled, and ordered them to calculate the infant's nativity.\nThey found by their observations that he would live long, and be\nvery brave; but that all his courage would be little enough to\ncarry him through the misfortunes that threatened him.  The\nsultan was not daunted at this prediction: \"My son,\" said he, \"is\nnot to be pitied, since he will be brave: it is fit that princes\nshould have a taste of misfortunes; for adversity tries virtue,\nand they are the better qualified to reign.\"\n\nHe rewarded the astrologers, and dismissed them; and caused Zeyn\nto be educated with the greatest care, appointing him able\nmasters as soon as he was of age to receive their instructions.\nIn short, he proposed to make him an accomplished prince, when on\na sudden this good sultan fell sick of a disorder, which all the\nskill of his physicians could not cure. Perceiving his disease\nwas mortal, he sent for his son, and among other things advised\nhim rather to endeavour to be loved, than to be feared by his\npeople; not to give ear to flatterers; to be as slow in rewarding\nas in punishing, because it often happens that monarchs misled by\nfalse appearances, load wicked men with favours, and oppress the\ninnocent.\n\nAs soon as the sultan was dead, prince Zeyn went into mourning,\nwhich he wore seven days, and on the eighth he ascended the\nthrone, taking his father's seal off the royal treasury, and\nputting on his own, beginning thus to taste the sweets of ruling,\nthe pleasure of seeing all his courtiers bow down before him, and\nmake it their whole study to shew their zeal and obedience.  In a\nword, the sovereign power was too agreeable to him.  He only\nregarded what his subjects owed to him, without considering what\nwas his duty towards them, and consequently took little care to\ngovern them well.  He revelled in all sorts of debauchery among\nthe voluptuous youth, on whom he conferred the prime employments\nin the kingdom.  He lost all command of his power.  Being\nnaturally prodigal, he set no bounds to his grants, so that his\nwomen and his favourites insensibly drained his treasury.\n\nThe queen his mother was still living, a discreet, wise princess.\nShe had several times unsuccessfully tried to check her son's\nprodigality and debauchery, giving him to understand, that, if he\ndid not soon take another course, he would not only squander his\nwealth, but also alienate the minds of his people, and occasion\nsome revolution, which perhaps might cost him his crown and his\nlife.  What she had predicted had nearly happened: the people\nbegan to murmur against the government, and their murmurs had\ncertainly been followed by a general revolt, had not the queen\nhad the address to prevent it.  That princess being acquainted\nwith the ill posture of affairs, informed the sultan, who at last\nsuffered himself to be prevailed upon.  He committed the\ngovernment to discreet aged men, who knew how to keep the people\nwithin the bounds of duty.\n\nZeyn, seeing all his wealth consumed, repented that he had made\nno better use of it.  He fell into a profound melancholy, and\nnothing could comfort him.  One night he saw in a dream a\nvenerable old man coming towards him, who with a smiling\ncountenance said, \"Know, Zeyn, that there is no sorrow but what\nis followed by mirth, no misfortune but what in the end brings\nsome happiness.  If you desire to see the end of your affliction,\nset out for Egypt, go to Grand Cairo, where great prosperity\nawaits you.\"\n\nThe young sultan was struck with his dream, and spoke of it very\nseriously to his mother, who only laughed at it.  \"My son,\" said\nshe to him, \"would you go into Egypt on the faith of an illusive\ndream?\"  \"Why not, madam,\" answered Zeyn, \"do you imagine all\ndreams are chimerical?  No, no, some of them are mysterious.  My\npreceptors have told me a thousand incidents, which will not\npermit me to doubt of it.  Besides, though I were not otherwise\nconvinced, I could not forbear giving some credit to my dreams.\nThe old man who appeared to me had something supernatural, he was\nnot one of those men whom nothing but age makes venerable; there\nappeared a divine air about his person.  In short, he was such a\none as our great prophet is represented; and if you will have me\ntell you what I think, I believe it was he, who, pitying my\naffliction, designs to relieve it. I rely on the confidence he\nhas inspired me with.  I am full of his promises, and have\nresolved to follow his advice.\"  The queen endeavoured to\ndissuade him, but in vain.  The sultan committed to her the\ngovernment of the kingdom, set out one night very privately from\nhis palace, and took the road to Cairo, without suffering any\nperson to attend him.\n\nAfter much trouble and fatigue, he arrived at that famous city,\nlike which there are few in the world, either for extent or\nbeauty.  He alighted at the gate of a mosque, where, being spent\nwith weariness, he lay down.  No sooner was he fallen asleep,\nthan he saw the same old man, who said to him, \"I am pleased with\nyou, my son, you have given credit to my words.  You are come\nhither, without being deterred by the length or the difficulties\nof the way: but know I have not put you upon undertaking such a\nlong journey, with any other design than to try you.  I find you\nhave courage and resolution.  You deserve I should make you the\nrichest and happiest prince in the world.  Return to Bussorah,\nand you shall find immense wealth in your palace.  No king ever\npossessed so rich a treasure.\"\n\nThe sultan was not pleased with this dream.  \"Alas!\" thought he\nto himself, when he awoke, \"how much was I mistaken?  That old\nman, whom I took for our prophet, is no other than the production\nof my disturbed imagination.  My fancy was so full of him, that\nit is no wonder I have seen him again.  I had best return to\nBussorah; what should I do here any longer?  It is fortunate that\nI told none but my mother the motive of my journey: I should\nbecome a jest to my people, if they knew it.\"\n\nAccordingly, he set out again for his kingdom, and as soon as he\narrived there, the queen asked him, whether he returned well\npleased?  He told her all that had happened, and was so much\nconcerned for having been so credulous, that the queen, instead\nof adding to his vexation, by reproving or laughing at him,\ncomforted him. \"Forbear afflicting yourself, my son,\" said she;\n\"if God has appointed you riches, you will have them without any\ntrouble.  Be contented; all that I recommend to you is, to be\nvirtuous; renounce the delights of dancing, music, and wine: shun\nall these pleasures, they have already almost ruined you; apply\nyourself to make your subjects happy; by securing their\nhappiness, you will establish your own.\"\n\nSultan Zeyn vowed that he would for the future follow his\nmother's advice, and be directed by the wise viziers she had\nchosen to assist him in supporting the weight of government.  But\nthe very night after he returned to his palace, he saw the old\nman the third time in a dream, who said to him, \"The time of your\nprosperity is come, brave Zeyn: to-morrow morning, as soon as you\nare up, take a little pick-axe, and dig in the late sultan's\ncloset; you will there find a rich treasure.\"\n\nAs soon as the sultan awoke, he got up, ran to the queen's\napartment, and with much eagerness told her the new dream of that\nnight.  \"Really, my son,\" said the queen smiling, \"this is a very\npositive old man; he is not satisfied with having deceived you\ntwice: have you a mind to believe him again?\"  \"No, madam,\"\nanswered Zeyn, \"I give no credit to what he has said; but I will,\nfor my own satisfaction, search my father's closet.\"  \"I really\nfancied so,\" cried the queen, laughing heartily: \"go, my son,\nsatisfy yourself; my comfort is, that work is not so fatiguing as\nthe journey to Egypt.\"\n\n\"Well madam,\" answered the sultan, \"I must own, that this third\ndream has restored my confidence, for it is connected with the\ntwo others; let us examine the old man's words.  He first\ndirected me to go into Egypt; there he told me, he had put me\nupon taking that journey, only to try me.  'Return to Bussorah,'\nsaid he, 'that is the place where you are to find treasures;'\nthis night he has exactly pointed out to me the place where they\nare: these three dreams in my opinion, are connected.  After all,\nthey may be chimerical: but I would rather search in vain, than\nblame myself as long as I live, for having perhaps missed great\nriches, by being unseasonably incredulous.\"\n\nHaving spoken thus, he left the queen's apartment, caused a\npick-axe to be brought him, and went alone into the late sultan's\ncloset.  He immediately began to break up the ground, and took up\nabove half the square stones it was paved with, but yet saw not\nthe least appearance of what he sought.  He ceased working to\ntake a little rest, thinking within himself, \"I am much afraid my\nmother had cause enough to laugh at me.\"  However, he took heart,\nand went on with his labour, nor had he cause to repent; for on a\nsudden he discovered a white slab, which he took up, and under it\nfound a door, made fast with a steel padlock, which he broke with\nthe pick-axe, and opened the door, which covered a staircase of\nwhite marble.  He immediately lighted a lamp, and went down the\nstairs into a room, the floor whereof was laid with tiles of\nchinaware, and the roof and walls were of crystal; but he\nparticularly fixed his eyes on four shelves, a little raised\nabove the rest of the floor, on each of which were ten urns of\nporphyry.  He fancied they were full of wine: \"Well,\" said he,\n\"that wine must be very old, I do not question but it is\nexcellent.\"  He went up to one of the urns, took off the cover,\nand with no less joy than surprise perceived it was full of\npieces of gold.  He searched all the forty, one after another,\nand found them full of the same coin, took out a handful, and\ncarried it to the queen.\n\nThe princess, it may be imagined, was amazed, when the sultan\ngave her an account of what he had discovered.  \"O! my son,\" said\nshe, \"take heed you do not lavish away all this wealth foolishly,\nas you have already done the royal treasure.  Let not your\nenemies have so much occasion to rejoice.\"  \"No, madam,\" answered\nZeyn, \"I will from henceforward live in such a manner as shall be\npleasing to you.\"\n\nThe queen desired her son to conduct her to the wonderful\nsubterraneous place, which the late sultan her husband had made\nwith such secrecy, that she had never heard of it.  Zeyn led her\nto the closet, down the marble stairs, and into the chamber where\nthe urns were.  She observed every thing with the eye of\ncuriosity, and in a corner spied a little urn of the same sort of\nstone as the others.  The prince had not before taken notice of\nit, but opening, found in it a golden key.  \"My son,\" said the\nqueen, \"this key certainly belongs to some other treasure; let us\nsearch well, perhaps we may discover the use it is designed for.\"\n\nThey examined the chamber with the utmost exactness, and at\nlength found a key-hole in one of the panels of the wall.  The\nsultan immediately tried, and as readily opened the door, which\nled into a chamber, in the midst of which were nine pedestals of\nmassive gold, on eight of which stood as many statues, each of\nthem made of a single diamond, and from them darted such a\nbrightness, that the whole room was perfectly light.\n\n\"O Heavens!\" cried Zeyn, in astonishment, \"where could my father\nfind such rarities?\"  The ninth pedestal redoubled this\namazement, for it was covered with a piece of white satin, on\nwhich were written these words, \"Dear son, it cost me much toil\nto procure these eight statues; but though they are\nextraordinarily beautiful, you must understand that there is a\nninth in the world, which surpasses them all: that alone is worth\nmore than a thousand such as these: if you desire to be master of\nit, go to the city of Cairo in Egypt; one of my old slaves, whose\nname is Mobarec, lives there, you will easily find him; the first\nperson you meet will shew you his house; visit him, and tell him\nall that has befallen you: he will know you to be my son, and\nconduct you to the place where that wonderful statue is, which\nyou will obtain with safety.\"\n\nThe young sultan having read these words, said to the queen, \"I\nshould be sorry to be without that ninth statue; it must\ncertainly be a very rare piece, since all these together are not\nof so much value.  I will set out for Grand Cairo; nor do I\nbelieve, madam, that you will now oppose my design.\"  \"No, my\nson,\" answered the queen, \"I am not against it: you are certainly\nunder the special protection of our great prophet, he will not\nsuffer you to perish in this journey.  Set out when you think\nfit: your viziers and I will take care of the government during\nyour absence.\" The prince made ready his equipage, but would take\nonly a small number of slaves with him.\n\nNothing remarkable befell him by the way, but arriving at Cairo,\nhe inquired for Mobarec.  The people told him he was one of the\nwealthiest inhabitants of the city; that he lived like a great\nlord, and that his house was open, especially for strangers.\nZeyn was conducted thither, knocked at the gate, which a slave\nopened, and demanded, \"What is it you want, and who are you?\"  \"I\nam a stranger,\" answered the prince, \"and having heard much of\nthe lord Mobarec's generosity, am come to take up my lodging with\nhim.\"  The slave desired Zeyn to wait while he went to acquaint\nhis master, who ordered him to request the stranger to walk in.\nThe slave returned to the gate, and told the prince he was\nwelcome.\n\nZeyn went in, crossed a large court, and entered a hall\nmagnificently furnished, where Mobarec expected him, and received\nhim very courteously, returning thanks for the honour he did him\nin accepting a lodging in his house.  The prince, having answered\nhis compliment, said to Mobarec, \"I am the son of the late sultan\nof Bussorah, and my name is Zeyn Alasnam.\"  \"That sovereign,\"\nsaid Mobarec, \"was formerly my master; but, my lord, I never knew\nof any children he had: what is your age?\"  \"I am twenty years\nold,\" answered the sultan.  \"How long is it since you left my\nfather's court?\"  \"Almost two-and-twenty years,\" replied Mobarec;\n\"but how can you convince me that you are his son?\"  \"My father,\"\nrejoined Zeyn, \"had a subterraneous place under his closet, in\nwhich I have found forty porphyry urns full of gold.\"  \"And what\nmore is there?\" said Mobarec.  \"There are,\" answered the prince,\n\"nine pedestals of massive gold: on eight whereof are as many\ndiamond statues; and on the ninth a piece of white satin, on\nwhich my father has written what I am to do to procure another\nstatue, more valuable than all those together.  You know where\nthat statue is; for it is mentioned on the satin, that you will\nconduct me to it.\"\n\nAs soon as he had spoke these words, Mobarec fell down at his\nfeet, and kissing one of his hands several times, said, \"I bless\nGod for having brought you hither: I know you to be the sultan of\nBussorah's son.  If you will go to the place where the wonderful\nstatue is, I will conduct you; but you must first rest here a few\ndays.  This day I treat the great men of the court; we were at\ntable when word was brought me of your being at the door.  Will\nyou vouchsafe to come and be merry with us?\"  \"I shall be very\nglad,\" replied Zeyn, \"to be admitted to your feast.\"  Mobarec\nimmediately led him under a dome where the company was, seated\nhim at the table, and served him on the knee.  The nobles of\nCairo were surprised, and whispered to one another, \"Who is this\nstranger, to whom Mobarec pays so much respect?\"\n\nWhen they had dined, Mobarec directing his discourse to the\ncompany, said, \"Nobles of Cairo, do not think much to see me\nserve this young stranger in this manner: know that he is the son\nof the sultan of Bussorah, my master.  His father purchased me,\nand died without making me free; so that I am still a slave, and\nconsequently all I have of right belongs to this young prince,\nhis sole heir.\"  Here Zeyn interrupted him: \"Mobarec,\" said he,\n\"I declare, before all these lords, that I make you free from\nthis moment, and that I renounce all right to your person, and\nall you possess.  Consider what you would have me do more for\nyou.\"  Mobarec kissed the ground, and returned the prince most\nhearty thanks.  Wine was then brought in, they drank all day, and\ntowards evening presents were distributed among the guests, who\ndeparted.\n\nThe next day Zeyn said to Mobarec, \"I have taken rest enough.  I\ncame not to Cairo to take my pleasure; my design is to obtain the\nninth statue; it is time for us to set out in search of it.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Mobarec, \"I am ready to comply with your desires; but\nyou know not what dangers you must encounter to make this\nprecious acquisition.\"  \"Whatsoever the danger may be,\" answered\nthe prince, \"I have resolved to make the attempt; I will either\nperish or succeed.  All that happens in this world is by God's\ndirection.  Do you but bear me company, and let your resolution\nbe equal to mine.\"\n\nMobarec, finding him determined to set out, called his servants,\nand ordered them to make ready his equipage.  The prince and he\nthen performed the ablution, and the prayer enjoined, which is\ncalled Farz; and that done, they set out.  On their way they took\nnotice of abundance of strange and wonderful things, and\ntravelled many days, at length, being come to a delightful spot,\nthey alighted from their horses. Mobarec then said to all the\nservants that attended them, \"Do you remain in this place, and\ntake care of our equipage till we return.\"  Then he said to Zeyn,\n\"Now, sir, let us advance by ourselves.  We are near the dreadful\nplace, where the ninth statue is kept.  You will stand in need of\nall your courage.\"\n\nThey soon came to a vast lake: Mobarec set down on the brink of\nit, saying to the prince, \"We must cross this sea.\"  \"How can\nwe,\" answered Zeyn, \"when we have no boat?\"  \"You will see one\nappear in a moment,\" replied Mobarec; \"the enchanted boat of the\nsultan of the genii will come for us.  But do not forget what I\nam going to say to you: you must observe a profound silence: do\nnot speak to the boatman, though his figure seem strange to you:\nwhatever extraordinary circumstance you observe, say nothing; for\nI tell you beforehand, that if you utter one word when we are\nembarked, the boat will sink.\"  \"I shall take care to hold my\npeace,\" said the prince; \"you need only tell me what I am to do,\nand I will strictly comply.\"\n\nWhilst they were talking, he spied on a sudden a boat in the\nlake, made of red sandal wood.  It had a mast of fine amber, and\na blue satin flag: there was only one boatman in it, whose head\nwas like an elephant's, and his body like that of a tiger. When\nthe boat was come up to the prince and Mobarec, the monstrous\nboatman took them up one after another with his trunk, put them\ninto his boat, and carried them over the lake in a moment.  He\nthen again took them up with his trunk, set them ashore, and\nimmediately vanished with his boat.\n\n\"Now we may talk,\" said Mobarec: \"the island we are in belongs to\nthe sultan of the genii.  Look round you, prince; can there be a\nmore delightful spot?  It is certainly a lively representation of\nthe charming place God has appointed for the faithful observers\nof our law.  Behold the fields adorned with all sorts of flowers\nand odoriferous plants: admire those beautiful trees whose\ndelicious fruit makes the branches bend down to the ground; enjoy\nthe pleasure of those harmonious songs formed in the air by a\nthousand birds of as many various sorts, unknown in other\ncountries.\"  Zeyn could not sufficiently admire the beauties with\nwhich he was surrounded, and still found something new, as he\nadvanced farther into the island.\n\nAt length they came before a palace built of emeralds,\nencompassed by a wide moat, on the banks whereof, at certain\ndistances, were planted such tall trees, that they shaded the\nwhole palace. Before the gate, which was of massive gold, was a\nbridge, formed of one single shell of a fish, though it was at\nleast six fathoms long, and three in breadth.  At the head of the\nbridge stood a company of genii, of a prodigious height, who\nguarded the entrance into the castle with great clubs of China\nsteel.\n\n\"Let us at present proceed no farther,\" said Mobarec, \"these\ngenii will destroy us: and in order to prevent their coming to\nus, we must perform a magical ceremony.\"  He then drew out of a\npurse which he had under his garment, four long slips of yellow\ntaffety; one he put about his middle, and laid the other on his\nback, giving the other two to the prince, who did the like.  Then\nMobarec laid on the ground two large table-cloths, on the edges\nwhereof he scattered some precious stones, musk, and amber.\nAfterwards he sat down on one of the cloths, and Zeyn on the\nother; and Mobarec said to the prince, \"I shall now, sir, conjure\nthe sultan of the genii, who lives in the palace that is before\nus; may he come in a peaceable mood to us!  I confess I am not\nwithout apprehension about the reception he may give us. If our\ncoming into this island is displeasing to him, he will appear in\nthe shape of a dreadful monster; but if he approves of your\ndesign, he will shew himself in the shape of a handsome man.  As\nsoon as he appears before us, you must rise and salute him,\nwithout going off your cloth; for you would certainly perish,\nshould you stir from it.  You must say to him, 'Sovereign lord of\nthe genii, my father, who was your servant, has been taken away\nby the angel of death; I wish your majesty may protect me, as you\nalways protected my father.'  If the sultan of the genii,\" added\nMobarec, \"ask you what favour you desire of him, you must answer,\n'I most humbly beg of you to give me the ninth statue.'\"\n\nMobarec, having thus instructed prince Zeyn, began his\nconjuration.  Immediately their eyes were dazzled by a long flash\nof lightning, which was followed by a clap of thunder.  The whole\nisland was covered with a thick darkness, a furious storm of wind\nblew, a dreadful cry was heard, the island felt a shock, and\nthere was such an earthquake, as that which Asrayel is to cause\non the day of judgment.\n\nZeyn was startled, and began to regard these concussions of the\nelements as a very ill omen, when Mobarec, who knew better than\nhe what to judge, began to smile, and said, \"Take courage, my\nprince, all goes well.\"  In short, that very moment, the sultan\nof the genii appeared in the shape of a very handsome man, yet\nthere was something of a sternness in his air.\n\nAs soon as sultan Zeyn had made him the compliment he had been\ntaught by Mobarec, the sultan of the genii smiling, answered, \"My\nson, I loved your father, and every time he came to pay me his\nrespects, I presented him with a statue, which he carried away\nwith him.  I have no less kindness for you.  I obliged your\nfather, some days before he died, to write that which you read on\nthe piece of white satin.  I promised him to receive you under my\nprotection, and to give you the ninth statue, which in beauty\nsurpasses those you have already.  I had begun to perform my\npromise to him.  It was I whom you saw in a dream in the shape of\nan old man; I caused you to open the subterraneous place, where\nthe urns and the statues are deposited: I have a great share in\nall that has befallen you, or rather am the occasion of all.  I\nknow the motive that brought you hither; you shall obtain what\nyou desire.  Though I had not promised your father to give it, I\nwould willingly grant it to you: but you must first swear to me\nby all that is sacred, that you will return to this island, and\nthat you will bring me a maid who is in her fifteenth year, has\nnever loved, nor desired to.  She must also be perfectly\nbeautiful: and you so much a master of yourself, as not even to\ndesire her as you are conducting her hither.\"\n\nSultan Zeyn took the rash oath demanded of him.  \"But, my lord,\"\nsaid he, \"suppose I should be so fortunate as to meet with such a\nmaid as you require, how shall I know that I have found her?\"  \"I\nown,\" answered the sultan of the genii, smiling, \"that you might\nbe mistaken in her appearance: that knowledge is above the sons\nof Adam, and therefore I do not mean to depend upon your judgment\nin that particular: I will give you a looking-glass which will be\nmore certain than your conjectures.  When you shall have seen a\nmaiden fifteen years of age, perfectly beautiful, you need only\nlook into the glass in which you shall see her figure.  If she be\nchaste, the glass will remain clean and unsullied; but if, on the\ncontrary, it sullies, that will be a certain sign that she has\nnot always been prudent, or at least that she has desired to\ncease to be so.  Do not forget the oath you have taken: keep it\nlike a man of honour; otherwise I will take away your life,\nnotwithstanding the kindness I have for you.\"  Zeyn Alasnam\nprotested again that he would faithfully keep his word.  The\nsultan of the genii then delivered to him a looking-glass,\nsaying, \"My son, you may return when you please, there is the\nglass you are to use.\" Zeyn and Mobarec took leave of the sultan\nof the genii, and went towards the lake.  The boatman with the\nelephant's head brought the boat, and ferried them over the lake\nas he had done before.  They joined their servants, and returned\nwith them again to Cairo.\n\nThe young sultan rested a few days at Mobarec's house, and then\nsaid to him, \"Let us go to Bagdad, to seek a maiden for the\nsovereign of the genii.\"  \"Why, are we not at Grand Cairo?\" said\nMobarec: \"shall we not there find beautiful maidens?\"  \"You are\nin the right,\" answered the prince; \"but how shall we explore\nwhere they are?\"  \"Do not trouble yourself about that,\" answered\nMobarec; \"I know a very shrewd old woman, whom I will entrust\nwith the affair, and she will acquit herself well.\"\n\nAccordingly the old woman found means to shew the sultan a\nconsiderable number of beautiful maidens of fifteen years of age;\nbut when he had viewed them, and came to consult his\nlooking-glass, the fatal touchstone of their virtue, the glass\nalways appeared sullied.  All the maidens in the court and city,\nwho were in their fifteenth year, underwent the trial one after\nanother, but the glass never remained bright and clear.\n\nWhen they saw there were no chaste maidens to be found in Cairo,\nthey went to Bagdad, where they hired a magnificent palace in one\nof the chief quarters of the city, and began to live splendidly.\nThey kept open house; and after all people had eaten in the\npalace, the fragments were carried to the dervises, who by that\nmeans had comfortable subsistence.\n\nThere lived in that quarter a pedant, whose name was Boubekir\nMuezin, a vain, haughty, and envious person: he hated the rich,\nonly because he was poor, his misery making him angry at his\nneighbour's prosperity.  He heard talk of Zeyn Alasnam, and of\nthe plenty his house afforded.  This was enough for him to take\nan aversion to that prince; and it proceeded so far, that one day\nafter the evening prayer in the mosque, he said to the people,\n\"Brethren, I have been told there is come to live in our ward a\nstranger, who every day gives away immense sums.  How do we know\nbut that this unknown person is some villain, who has committed a\nrobbery in his own country, and comes hither to enjoy himself?\nLet us take care, brethren; if the caliph should be informed that\nsuch a man is in our ward, it is to be feared he will punish us\nfor not acquainting him with it.  I declare for my part I wash my\nhands of the affair, and if any thing should happen amiss, it\nshall not lie at my door.\" The multitude, who are easily led\naway, with one voice cried to Boubekir, \"It is your business, do\nyou acquaint the council with it.\"  The muezin went home well\npleased, and drew up a memorial, resolving to present it to the\ncaliph next day.\n\nBut Mobarec, who had been at prayers, and heard all that was said\nby the muezin, put five hundred pieces of gold into a\nhandkerchief, made up with a parcel of several silks, and went to\nBoubekir's house.  The muezin asked him in a harsh tone what he\nwanted.  \"Holy father,\" answered Mobarec with an obliging air,\nand at the same time putting into his hand the gold and the silk,\n\"I am your neighbour and your servant: I come from prince Zeyn,\nwho lives in this ward: he has heard of your worth, and has\nordered me to come and tell you, that he desires to be acquainted\nwith you, and in the mean time desires you to accept of this\nsmall present.\"  Boubekir was transported with joy, and answered\nMobarec thus: \"Be pleased, sir, to beg the prince's pardon for\nme: I am ashamed I have not yet been to see him, but I will atone\nfor my fault, and wait on him to-morrow.\"\n\nAccordingly the next day after morning prayer he said to the\npeople, \"You must know from your own experience, brethren, that\nno man is without some enemies: envy pursues those chiefly who\nare very rich.  The stranger I spoke to you about yesterday in\nthe evening is no bad man, as some ill-designing persons would\nhave persuaded me: he is a young prince, endowed with every\nvirtue. It behoves us to take care how we give any injurious\nreport of him to the caliph.\"\n\nBoubekir having thus wiped off the impression he had the day\nbefore given the people concerning Zeyn, returned home, put on\nhis best apparel and went to visit the young prince, who gave him\na courteous reception.  After several compliments had passed on\nboth sides, Boubekir said to the prince, \"Sir, do you design to\nstay long at Bagdad?\"  \"I shall stay,\" answered Zeyn, \"till I can\nfind a maid fifteen years of age, perfectly beautiful, and so\nchaste, that she has not only never loved a man, but even never\ndesired to do so.\"  \"You seek after a great rarity,\" replied the\nmuezin; \"and I should be apt to fear your search would prove\nunsuccessful, did I not know where there is a maid of that\ncharacter.  Her father was formerly vizier; but has left the\ncourt, and lived a long time in a lone house, where he applies\nhimself solely to the education of his daughter.  If you please,\nI will ask her of him for you: I do not question but he will be\noverjoyed to have a son-in-law of your quality.\"  \"Not so fast,\"\nsaid the prince, \"I shall not marry the maid before I know\nwhether I like her.  As for her beauty, I can depend on you; but\nwhat assurance can you give me in relation to her virtue?\"  \"What\nassurance do you require?\" said Boubekir.  \"I must see her face,\"\nanswered Zeyn; \"that is enough to determine my resolution.\"  \"You\nare skilled then in physiognomy?\" replied the muezin, smiling.\n\"Well, come along with me to her father's: I will desire him to\nlet you see her one moment in his presence.\"\n\nThe muezin conducted the prince to the vizier's; who, as soon as\nhe was acquainted with the prince's birth and design, called his\ndaughter, and made her take off her veil.  Never had the young\nsultan of Bussorah beheld such a perfect and striking beauty.  He\nstood amazed; and since he could then try whether the maid was as\nchaste as fair, he pulled out his glass, which remained bright\nand unsullied.\n\nWhen he perceived he had at length found such a person as he\ndesired, he entreated the vizier to grant her to him.\nImmediately the cauzee was sent for, the contract signed, and the\nmarriage prayer said.  After this ceremony, Zeyn conducted the\nvizier to his house, where he treated him magnificently, and gave\nhim considerable presents.  Next day he sent a prodigious\nquantity of jewels by Mobarec, who conducted the bride home,\nwhere the wedding was kept with all the pomp that became Zeyn's\nquality. When all the company was dismissed Mobarec said to his\nmaster, \"Let us begone, sir, let us not stay any longer at\nBagdad, but return to Cairo: remember the promise you made the\nsultan of the genii.\"  \"Let us go,\" answered the prince; \"I must\ntake care to perform it exactly; yet I must confess, my dear\nMobarec, that, if I obey the sultan of the genii, it is not\nwithout reluctance.  The damsel I have married is so charming,\nthat I am tempted to carry her to Bussorah, and place her on the\nthrone.\"  \"Alas! sir,\" answered Mobarec, \"take heed how you give\nway to your inclination: make yourself master of your passions,\nand whatever it costs you, be as good as your word to the sultan\nof the genii.\"  \"Well, then, Mobarec,\" said the prince, \"do you\ntake care to conceal the lovely maid from me; let her never\nappear in my sight; perhaps I have already seen too much of her.\"\n\nMobarec made all ready for their departure; they returned to\nCairo, and thence set out for the island of the sultan of the\ngenii.  When they were arrived, the maid who had performed the\njourney in a horse-litter, and whom the prince had never seen\nsince his wedding-day, said to Mobarec, \"Where are we?  Shall we\nbe soon in the dominions of the prince my husband?\"  \"Madam,\"\nanswered Mobarec, \"it is time to undeceive you.  Prince Zeyn\nmarried you only in order to get you from your father: he did not\nengage his faith to make you sovereign of Bussorah, but to\ndeliver you to the sultan of the genii, who has asked of him a\nvirgin of your character.\"  At these words, she began to weep\nbitterly, which moved the prince and Mobarec.  \"Take pity on me,\"\nsaid she; \"I am a stranger, you will be accountable to God for\nyour treachery towards me.\"\n\nHer tears and complaints were of no effect, for she was presented\nto the sultan of the genii, who having gazed on her with\nattention, said to Zeyn, \"Prince, I am satisfied with your\nbehaviour; the virgin you have brought me is beautiful and\nchaste, and I am pleased with the restraint you have put upon\nyourself to be as good as your promise to me.  Return to your\ndominions, and when you shall enter the subterraneous room, where\nthe eight statues are, you shall find the ninth which I promised\nyou.  I will make my genii carry it thither.\"  Zeyn thanked the\nsultan, and returned to Cairo with Mobarec, but did not stay long\nin Egypt, for his impatience to see the ninth statue made him\nhasten his departure.  However, he could not but often think\nregretfully of the young virgin he had married; and blaming\nhimself for having deceived her, he looked upon himself as the\ncause and instrument of her misfortune.  \"Alas!\" said he to\nhimself, \"I have taken her from a tender father, to sacrifice her\nto a genie.  O incomparable beauty! you deserve a better fate.\"\n\nSultan Zeyn, disturbed with these thoughts, at length reached\nBussorah, where his subjects made extraordinary rejoicings for\nhis return.  He went directly to give an account of his journey\nto his mother, who was in a rapture to hear that he had obtained\nthe ninth statue.  \"Let us go, my son,\" said she, \"let us go and\nsee it, for it is certainly in the subterraneous chamber, since\nthe sultan of the genii told you you should find it there.\"  The\nyoung sultan and his mother, being both impatient to see the\nwonderful statue, went down into the room of the statues; but how\ngreat was their surprise, when, instead of a statue of diamonds,\nthey beheld on the ninth pedestal a most beautiful virgin, whom\nthe prince knew to be the same whom he had conducted into the\nisland of the genii!  \"Prince,\" said the young maid, \"you are\nsurprised to see me here; you expected to have found something\nmore precious than me, and I question not but that you now repent\nhaving taken so much trouble: you expected a better reward.\"\n\"Madam,\" answered Zeyn, \"heaven is my witness, that I more than\nonce had nearly broken my word with the sultan of the genii, to\nkeep you to myself. Whatever be the value of a diamond statue, is\nit worth the satisfaction of having you mine?  I love you above\nall the diamonds and wealth in the world.\"\n\nJust as he had done speaking, a clap of thunder was heard, which\nshook the subterranean place. Zeyn's mother was alarmed, but the\nsultan of the genii immediately appearing, dispelled her fear.\n\"Madam,\" said he to her, \"I protect and love your son: I had a\nmind to try, whether, at his age, he could subdue his passions.\nI know the charms of this young lady have wrought on him, and\nthat he did not punctually keep the promise he had made me, not\nto desire her; but I am well acquainted with the frailty of human\nnature.  This is the ninth statue I designed for him; it is more\nrare and precious than the others.  \"Live,\" said he (directing\nhis discourse to the young prince), \"live happy, Zeyn, with this\nyoung lady, who is your wife; and if you would have her true and\nconstant to you, love her always, and love her only.  Give her no\nrival, and I will answer for her fidelity.\"  Having spoken these\nwords, the sultan of the genii vanished, and Zeyn, enchanted with\nthe young lady, the same day caused her to be proclaimed queen of\nBussorah, over which they reigned in mutual happiness to an\nadvanced age.\n\n\n\n\n\n           THE HISTORY OF CODADAD, AND HIS BROTHERS.\n\n\n\nThose who have written the history of Diarbekir inform us that\nthere formerly reigned in the city of Harran a most magnificent\nand potent sultan, who loved his subjects, and was equally\nbeloved by them.  He was endued with all virtues, and wanted\nnothing to complete his happiness but an heir.  Though he had the\nfinest women in the world in his seraglio, yet was he destitute\nof children.  He continually prayed to heaven for them; and one\nnight in his sleep, a comely person, or rather a prophet,\nappeared to him, and said, \"Your prayers are heard; you have\nobtained what you have desired; rise as soon as you awake, go to\nyour prayers, and make two genuflexions, then walk into the\ngarden of your palace, call your gardener, and bid him bring you\na pomegranate, eat as many of the seeds as you please, and your\nwishes shall be accomplished.\"\n\nThe sultan calling to mind his dream when he awoke, returned\nthanks to heaven, got up, prayed, made two genuflexions, and then\nwent into his garden, where he took fifty pomegranate seeds,\nwhich he counted, and ate.  He had fifty wives who shared his\nbed; they all proved with child; but there was one called\nPirouz\u00e8, who did not appear to be pregnant.  He took an aversion\nto this lady, and would have her put to death.  \"Her barrenness,\"\nsaid he, \"is a certain token that heaven does not judge Pirouz\u00e8\nworthy to bear a prince; it is my duty to deliver the world from\nan object that is odious to the Lord.\"  He would have executed\nhis cruel purpose had not his vizier prevented him; representing\nto him that all women were not of the same constitution, and that\nit was not impossible but that Pirouz\u00e8 might be with child,\nthough it did not yet appear.  \"Well,\" answered the sultan, \"let\nher live; but let her depart my court; for I cannot endure her.\"\n\"Your majesty,\" replied the vizier, \"may send her to sultan\nSamer, your cousin.\"  The sultan approved of this advice; he sent\nPirouz\u00e8 to Samaria, with a letter, in which he ordered his cousin\nto treat her well, and, in case she proved with child, to give\nhim notice of her being brought to bed.\n\nNo sooner was Pirouz\u00e8 arrived in that country, than it appeared\nthat she was pregnant, and at length she was delivered of a most\nbeautiful prince.  The prince of Samaria wrote immediately to the\nsultan of Harran, to acquaint him with the birth of a son, and to\ncongratulate him on the occasion.  The sultan was much rejoiced\nat this intelligence, and answered prince Samer as follows:\n\"Cousin, all my other wives have each been delivered of a prince.\nI desire you to educate that of Pirouz\u00e8, to give him the name of\nCodadad, and to send him to me when I may apply for him.\"\n\nThe prince of Samaria spared nothing that might improve the\neducation of his nephew.  He taught him to ride, draw the bow,\nand all other accomplishments becoming the son of a sovereign; so\nthat Codadad, at eighteen years of age, was looked upon as a\nprodigy.  The young prince, being inspired with a courage worthy\nof his birth, said one day to his mother, \"Madam, I begin to grow\nweary of Samaria; I feel a passion for glory; give me leave to\nseek it amidst the perils of war.  My father, the sultan of\nHarran, has many enemies.  Why does he not call me to his\nassistance?  Why does he leave me here so long in obscurity?\nMust I spend my life in sloth, when all my brothers have the\nhappiness to be fighting by his side?\"  \"My son,\" answered\nPirouz\u00e8, \"I am no less impatient to have your name become famous;\nI could wish you had already signalized yourself against your\nfather's enemies; but we must wait till he requires it.\"  \"No,\nmadam,\" replied Codadad, \"I have already waited but too long.  I\nburn to see the sultan, and am tempted to offer him my service,\nas a young stranger: no doubt but he will accept of it, and I\nwill not discover myself, till I have performed some glorious\nactions: I desire to merit his esteem before he knows who I am.\"\nPirouz\u00e8 approved of his generous resolutions, and Codadad\ndeparted from Samaria, as if he had been going to the chase,\nwithout acquainting prince Samer, lest he should thwart his\ndesign.\n\nHe was mounted on a white charger, who had a bit and shoes of\ngold, his housing was of blue satin embroidered with pearls; the\nhilt of his scimitar was of one single diamond, and the scabbard\nof sandal-wood, adorned with emeralds and rubies, and on his\nshoulder he carried his bow and quiver.  In this equipage, which\ngreatly set off his handsome person, he arrived at the city of\nHarran, and soon found means to offer his service to the sultan;\nwho being charmed with his beauty and promising appearance, and\nperhaps indeed by natural sympathy, gave him a favourable\nreception, and asked his name and quality.  \"Sir,\" answered\nCodadad, \"I am son to an emir of Grand Cairo; an inclination to\ntravel has made me quit my country, and understanding, in my\npassage through your dominions, that you were engaged in war, I\nam come to your court to offer your majesty my service.\"  The\nsultan shewed him extraordinary kindness, and gave him a command\nin his army.\n\nThe young prince soon signalized his bravery.  He gained the\nesteem of the officers, and was admired by the soldiers.  Having\nno less wit than courage, he so far advanced himself in the\nsultan's esteem, as to become his favourite.  All the ministers\nand other courtiers daily resorted to Codadad, and were so eager\nto purchase his friendship, that they neglected the sultan's\nsons.  The princes could not but resent this conduct, and\nimputing it to the stranger, all conceived an implacable hatred\nagainst him; but the sultan's affection daily increasing, he was\nnever weary of giving him fresh testimonies of his regard.  He\nalways would have him near his person; admired his conversation,\never full of wit and discretion; and to shew his high opinion of\nhis wisdom and prudence, committed to his care the other princes,\nthough he was of the same age as they; so that Codadad was made\ngovernor of his brothers.\n\nThis only served to heighten their hatred.  \"Is it come to this,\"\nsaid they, \"that the sultan, not satisfied with loving a stranger\nmore than us, will have him to be our governor, and not allow us\nto act without his leave? this is not to be endured.  We must rid\nourselves of this foreigner.\"  \"Let us go together,\" said one of\nthem, \"and dispatch him.\"  \"No, no,\" answered another; \"we had\nbetter be cautious how we sacrifice ourselves.  His death would\nrender us odious to the sultan, who in return would declare us\nall unworthy to reign.  Let us destroy him by some stratagem.  We\nwill ask his permission to hunt, and when at a distance from the\npalace, proceed to some other city, and stay there some time.\nThe sultan will wonder at our absence, and perceiving we do not\nreturn, perhaps put the stranger to death, or at least will\nbanish him from court, for suffering us to leave the palace.\"\n\nAll the princes applauded this artifice.  They went together to\nCodadad, and desired him to allow them to take the diversion of\nhunting, promising to return the same day.  Pirouz\u00e8's son was\ntaken in the snare, and granted the permission his brothers\ndesired.  They set out, but never returned.  They had been three\ndays absent, when the sultan asked Codadad where the princes\nwere, for it was long since he had seen them.  \"Sir,\" answered\nCodadad, after making a profound reverence, \"they have been\nhunting these three days, but they promised me they would return\nsooner.\"  The sultan grew uneasy, and his uneasiness increased\nwhen he perceived the princes did not return the next day.  He\ncould not check his anger: \"Indiscreet stranger,\" said he to\nCodadad, \"why did you let my sons go without bearing them\ncompany?  Is it thus you discharge the trust I have reposed in\nyou?  Go, seek them immediately, and bring them to me, or your\nlife shall be forfeited.\"\n\nThese words chilled with alarm Pirouz\u00e8's unfortunate son.  He\narmed himself, departed from the city, and like a shepherd, who\nhad lost his flock, searched the country for his brothers,\ninquiring at every village whether they had been seen: but\nhearing no news of them, abandoned himself to the most lively\ngrief.  \"Alas! my brothers,\" said he, \"what is become of you?\nAre you fallen into the hands of our enemies?  Am I come to the\ncourt of Harran to be the occasion of giving the sultan so much\nanxiety?\"  He was inconsolable for having given the princes\npermission to hunt, or for not having borne them company.\n\nAfter some days spent in fruitless search, he came to a plain of\nprodigious extent, in the midst whereof was a palace built of\nblack marble.  He drew near, and at one of the windows beheld a\nmost beautiful lady; but set off with no other ornament than her\nown charms; for her hair was dishevelled, her garments torn, and\non her countenance appeared all the marks of the greatest\naffliction.  As soon as she saw Codadad, and judged he might hear\nher, she directed her discourse to him, saying, \"Young man,\ndepart from this fatal place, or you will soon fall into the\nhands of the monster that inhabits it: a black, who feeds only on\nhuman blood, resides in this palace; he seizes all persons whom\ntheir ill-fate conducts to this plain, and shuts them up in his\ndark dungeons, whence they are never released, but to be devoured\nby him.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" answered Codadad, \"tell me who you are, and be not\nconcerned for myself.\"  \"I am a young woman of quality of Grand\nCairo,\" replied the lady; \"I was passing by this castle\nyesterday, in my way to Bagdad, and met with the black, who\nkilled all my attendants, and brought me hither; I wish I had\nnothing but death to fear, but to add to my calamity, this\nmonster would persuade me to love him, and, in case I do not\nyield to-morrow to his brutality, I must expect the last\nviolence.  Once more,\" added she, \"make your escape: the black\nwill soon return; he is gone out to pursue some travellers he\nespied at a distance on the plain.  Lose no time; I know not\nwhether you can escape him by a speedy flight.\"\n\nShe had scarcely done speaking before the black appeared.  He was\nof monstrous bulk, and of a dreadful aspect, mounted on a large\nTartar horse, and bore such a heavy scimitar, that none but\nhimself could wield.  The prince seeing him, was amazed at his\ngigantic stature, directed his prayers to heaven to assist him,\nthen drew his scimitar, and firmly awaited his approach.  The\nmonster, despising so inconsiderable an enemy, called to him to\nsubmit without fighting.  Codadad by his conduct shewed that he\nwas resolved to defend his life; for rushing upon him, he wounded\nhim on the knee.  The black, feeling himself wounded, uttered\nsuch a dreadful yell as made all the plain resound.  He grew\nfurious and foamed with rage, and raising himself on his\nstirrups, made at Codadad with his dreadful scimitar.  The blow\nwas so violent, that it would have put an end to the young\nprince, had not he avoided it by a sudden spring.  The scimitar\nmade a horrible hissing in the air: but, before the black could\nhave time to make a second blow, Codadad struck him on his right\narm, with such force, that he cut it off.  The dreadful scimitar\nfell with the hand that held it, and the black yielding under the\nviolence of the stroke, lost his stirrups, and made the earth\nshake with the weight of his fall.  The prince alighted at the\nsame time, and cut off his enemy's head.  Just then, the lady,\nwho had been a spectator of the combat, and was still offering up\nher earnest prayers to heaven for the young hero, whom she\nadmired, uttered a shriek of joy, and said to Codadad, \"Prince\n(for the dangerous victory you have obtained, as well as your\nnoble air, convinces me that you are of no common rank), finish\nthe work you have begun; the black has the keys of this castle,\ntake them and deliver me out of prison.\"  The prince searched the\nwretch as he lay stretched on the ground, and found several keys.\n\nHe opened the first door, and entered a court, where he saw the\nlady coming to meet him; she would have cast herself at his feet,\nthe better to express her gratitude, but he would not permit her.\nShe commended his valour, and extolled him above all the heroes\nin the world.  He returned her compliments; and she appeared\nstill more lovely to him near, than she had done at a distance.\nI know not whether she felt more joy at being delivered from the\ndesperate danger she had been in, than he for having done so\nconsiderable a service to so beautiful a person.\n\nTheir conversation was interrupted by dismal cries and groans.\n\"What do I hear?\" said Codadad: \"Whence come these miserable\nlamentations, which pierce my ears?\"  \"My lord,\" said the lady to\nhim, pointing to a little door in the court, \"they come from\nthence.  There are I know not how many wretched persons whom fate\nhas thrown into the hands of the black.  They are all chained,\nand the monster drew out one every day to devour.\"\n\n\"It is an addition to my joy,\" answered the young prince, \"to\nunderstand that my victory will save the lives of those\nunfortunate beings.  Come along with me, madam, to partake in the\nsatisfaction of giving them their liberty.  You may judge by your\nown feelings how welcome we shall be to them.\"  Having so said,\nthey advanced towards the door of the dungeon, and the nearer\nthey drew, the more distinctly they heard the lamentations of the\nprisoners.  Codadad pitying them, and impatient to put an end to\ntheir sufferings, presently put one of the keys into the lock.\nThe noise made all the unfortunate captives, who concluded it was\nthe black coming, according to custom, to seize one of them to\ndevour, redouble their cries and groans.  Lamentable voices were\nheard, which seemed to come from the centre of the earth.\n\nIn the mean time, the prince had opened the door; he went down a\nvery steep staircase into a large and deep vault, which received\nsome feeble light from a little window, and in which there were\nabove a hundred persons, bound to stakes, and their hands tied.\n\"Unfortunate travellers,\" said he to them,  \"wretched victims,\nwho only expected the moment of an approaching cruel death, give\nthanks to heaven, which has this day delivered you by my means.\nI have slain the black by whom you were to be devoured, and am\ncome to knock off your chains.\"  The prisoners hearing these\nwords, gave a shout of mingled joy and surprise.  Codadad and the\nlady began to unbind them; and as soon as any of them were loose,\nthey helped to take off the fetters from the rest; so that in a\nshort time they were all at liberty.\n\nThey then kneeled down, and having returned thanks to Codadad for\nwhat he had done for them, went out of the dungeon; but when they\nwere come into the court, how was the prince surprised to see\namong the prisoners, those he was in search of, and almost\nwithout hopes to find!  \"Princes,\" cried he, \"am I not deceived?\nIs it you whom I behold?  May I flatter myself that it may be in\nmy power to restore you to the sultan your father, who is\ninconsolable for the loss of you?  But will he not have some one\nto lament?  Are you all here alive?  Alas! the death of one of\nyou will suffice to damp the joy I feel for having delivered\nyou!\"\n\nThe forty-nine princes all made themselves known to Codadad, who\nembraced them one after another, and told them how uneasy their\nfather was on account of their absence.  They gave their\ndeliverer all the commendations he deserved, as did the other\nprisoners, who could not find words expressive enough to declare\ntheir gratitude.  Codadad, with them, searched the whole castle,\nwhere was immense wealth; curious silks, gold brocades, Persian\ncarpets, China satins, and an infinite quantity of other goods,\nwhich the black had taken from the caravans he had plundered, a\nconsiderable part whereof belonged to the prisoners Codadad had\nthen liberated.  Every man knew and claimed his property.  The\nprince restored them their own, and divided the rest of the\nmerchandise among them.  Then he said to them, \"How will you\ncarry away your goods?  We are here in a desert place, and there\nis no likelihood of your getting horses.\"  \"My lord,\" answered\none of the prisoners, \"the black robbed us of our camels as well\nas our goods, and perhaps they may be in the stables of this\ncastle.\"  \"This is not unlikely,\" replied Codadad; \"let us\nexamine.\"  Accordingly they went to the stables, where they not\nonly found the camels, but also the horses belonging to the\nsultan of Harran's sons.  There were some black slaves in the\nstables, who seeing all the prisoners released, and guessing\nthereby that their master had been killed, fled through by-ways\nwell known to them.  Nobody minded to pursue them.  All the\nmerchants, overjoyed that they had recovered their goods and\ncamels, together with their liberty, thought of nothing but\nprosecuting their journey; but first repeated their thanks to\ntheir deliverer.\n\nWhen they were gone, Codadad, directing his discourse to the\nlady, said, \"What place, madam, do you desire to go to?  Whither\nwere you bound when you were seized by the black?  I intend to\nbear you company to the place you shall choose for your retreat,\nand I question not but that all these princes will do the same.\"\nThe sultan of Harran's sons protested to the lady, that they\nwould not leave her till she was restored to her friends.\n\n\"Princes,\" said she, \"I am of a country too remote from hence;\nand, besides that, it would be abusing your generosity to oblige\nyou to travel so far.  I must confess that I have left my native\ncountry for ever.  I told you that I was a lady of Grand Cairo;\nbut since you have shewn me so much favour, and I am so highly\nobliged to you,\" added she, looking upon Codadad, \"I should be\nmuch in the wrong in concealing the truth from you; I am a\nsultan's daughter.  An usurper has possessed himself of my\nfather's throne, after having murdered him, and I have been\nforced to fly to save my life.\"\n\nCodadad and his brothers requested the princess to tell them her\nstory, assuring her they felt a particular interest in her\nmisfortunes, and were determined to spare nothing that might\ncontribute to render her more happy.  After thanking them for\ntheir repeated protestations of readiness to serve her, she could\nnot refuse to satisfy their curiosity, and began the recital of\nher adventures in the following manner.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe History of the Princess of Deryabar.\n\n\n\nThere was in a certain island a great city called Deryabar,\ngoverned by a potent, magnificent, and virtuous sultan, who had\nno children, which was the only blessing wanting to make him\nhappy.  He continually addressed his prayers to heaven, but\nheaven only partially granted his requests, for the queen his\nwife, after a long expectation, brought forth a daughter.\n\nI am the unfortunate princess; my father was rather grieved than\npleased at my birth; but he submitted to the will of God, and\ncaused me to be educated with all possible care, being resolved,\nsince he had no son, to teach me the art of ruling, that I might\nsupply his place after his death.\n\nOne day when he was taking the diversion of hunting, he espied a\nwild ass, which he chased, lost his company, and was carried away\nso far by his eagerness as to ride on till night.  He then\nalighted, and sat down at the entrance of a wood, in which the\nass had sheltered.  No sooner was the day shut in than he\ndiscovered among the trees a light, which made him conclude that\nhe was not far from some village; he rejoiced at this, hoping\nthat he might pass the night there, and find some person to send\nto his followers and acquaint them where he was; accordingly he\nrose and walked towards the light, which served to guide him.\n\nHe soon found he had been deceived, the light being no other than\na fire blazing in a hut; however, he drew near, and, with\namazement, beheld a black man, or rather a giant, sitting on a\nsofa.  Before the monster was a great pitcher of wine, and he was\nroasting an ox he had newly killed.  Sometimes he drank out of\nthe pitcher, and sometimes cut slices off the ox and greedily\ndevoured them.  But what most attracted my father's attention was\na beautiful woman whom he saw in the hut.  She seemed overwhelmed\nwith grief; her hands were bound, and at her feet was a little\nchild about two or three years old, who, as if he was sensible of\nhis mother's misfortunes, wept without ceasing, and rent the air\nwith his cries.\n\nMy father, moved with this pitiable object, thought at first to\nenter the hut and attack the giant; but considering how unequal\nthe combat would be, he stopped, and resolved, since he had not\nstrength enough to prevail by open force, to use art.  In the\nmean time, the giant having emptied the pitcher, and devoured\nabove half the ox, turned to the woman and said, \"Beautiful\nprincess, why do you oblige me by your obstinacy to treat you\nwith severity?  It is in your own power to be happy.  You need\nonly resolve to love, and be true to me, and I shall treat you\nwith more mildness.\"  \"Thou hideous satyr,\" answered the lady,\n\"never expect that time should wear away my abhorrence of thee.\nThou wilt ever be a monster in my eyes.\"  To these words she\nadded so many reproaches, that the giant grew enraged.  \"This is\ntoo much,\" cried he, in a furious tone; \"my love despised is\nturned into rage.  Your hatred has at last excited mine; I find\nit triumphs over my desires, and that I now wish your death more\nardently than your enjoyment.\"  Having spoken these words, he\ntook the wretched lady by the hair, held her up with one hand in\nthe air, and drawing his scimitar with the other, was just going\nto strike off her head, when the sultan my father let fly an\narrow which pierced the giant's breast, so that he staggered, and\ndropped down dead.\n\nMy father entered the hut, unbound the lady's hands, inquired who\nshe was, and how she came thither.  \"My lord,\" said she, \"there\nare along the sea-coast some families of Saracens, who live under\na prince who is my husband; this giant you have killed was one of\nhis principal officers.  The wretch fell desperately in love with\nme, but took care to conceal his passion, till he could put in\nexecution the design he had formed of forcing me from home.\nFortune oftener favours wicked designs than virtuous resolutions.\nThe giant one day surprised me and my child in a by-place.  He\nseized us both, and to disappoint the search he well knew my\nhusband would cause to be made for me, removed from the country\ninhabited by those Saracens, and brought us into this wood, where\nhe has kept me some days.  Deplorable as my condition is, it is\nstill a great satisfaction to me to think that the giant, though\nso brutal, never used force to obtain what I always refused to\nhis entreaties.  Not but that he has a hundred times threatened\nthat he would have recourse to the worst of extremities, in case\nhe could not otherwise prevail upon me; and I must confess to\nyou, that awhile ago, when I provoked his anger by my words, I\nwas less concerned for my life than for my honour.\n\n\"This, my lord,\" said the prince of the Saracens' wife, \"is the\nfaithful account of my misfortunes, and I question not but you\nwill think me worthy of your compassion, and that you will not\nrepent having so generously relieved me.\"  \"Madam,\" answered my\nfather, \"be assured your troubles have affected me, and I will do\nall in my power to make you happy.  To-morrow, as soon as day\nappears, we will quit this wood, and endeavour to fall into the\nroad which leads to the great city of Deryabar, of which I am\nsovereign; and if you think fit, you shall be lodged in my\npalace, till the prince your husband comes to claim you.\"\n\nThe Saracen lady accepted the offer, and the next day followed\nthe sultan my father, who found all his retinue upon the skirts\nof the wood, they having spent the night in searching for him,\nand being very uneasy because they could not find him.  They were\nno less rejoiced to meet with, than amazed to see him with a\nlady, whose beauty surprised them.  He told them how he had found\nher, and the risk he had run in approaching the hut, where he\nmust certainly have lost his life had the giant discovered him.\nOne of his servants took up the lady behind him, and another\ncarried the child.\n\nThus they arrived at the palace of my father, who assigned the\nbeautiful Saracen lady an apartment, and caused her child to be\ncarefully educated.  The lady was not insensible of the sultan's\ngoodness to her, and expressed as much gratitude as he could\ndesire.  She had at first appeared very uneasy and impatient that\nher husband did not claim her; but by degrees she lost that\nuneasiness.  The respect my father paid her dispelled her\nimpatience; and I am of opinion she would at last have blamed\nfortune more for restoring her to her kindred, than she did for\nremoving her from them.\n\nIn the mean time the lady's son grew up; he was very handsome,\nand not wanting ability, found means to please the sultan my\nfather, who conceived a great friendship for him.  All the\ncourtiers perceived it, and guessed that the young man might in\nthe end be my husband.  In this idea, and looking on him already\nas heir to the crown, they made their court to him, and every one\nendeavoured to gain his favour.  He soon saw into their designs,\ngrew conceited of himself, and forgetting the distance there was\nbetween our conditions, flattered himself with the hopes that my\nfather was fond enough of him, to prefer him before all the\nprinces in the world.  He went farther; for the sultan not\noffering me to him as soon as he could have wished, he had the\nboldness to ask me of him.  Whatever punishment his insolence\ndeserved, my father was satisfied with telling him he had other\nthoughts in relation to me, and shewed him no further resentment.\nThe youth was incensed at this refusal; he resented the contempt,\nas if he had asked some maid of ordinary extraction, or as if his\nbirth had been equal to mine.  Nor did he stop here, but resolved\nto be revenged on the sultan, and with unparalleled ingratitude\nconspired against him.  In short, he murdered him, and caused\nhimself to be proclaimed sovereign of Deryabar.  The first thing\nhe did after the murder of my father was to come into my\napartment, at the head of a party of the conspirators.  His\ndesign was either to take my life or oblige me to marry him.  The\ngrand vizier, however, who had been always loyal to his master,\nwhile the usurper was butchering my father, came to carry me away\nfrom the palace, and secured me in a friend's house, till a\nvessel he had provided was ready to sail.  I then left the\nisland, attended only by a governess and that generous minister,\nwho chose rather to follow his master's daughter, and share her\nmisfortunes, than to submit to a tyrant.\n\nThe grand vizier designed to carry me to the courts of the\nneighbouring sultans, to implore their assistance, and excite\nthem to revenge my father's death; but heaven did not concur in a\nresolution we thought so just.  When we had been but a few days\nat sea, there arose such a furious storm, that, in spite of all\nthe mariners' art, our vessel, carried away by the violence of\nthe winds and waves, was dashed in pieces against a rock.  I will\nnot spend time in describing our shipwreck.  I can but faintly\nrepresent to you how my governess, the grand vizier, and all that\nattended me, were swallowed up by the sea.  The dread I was\nseized with did not permit me to observe all the horror of our\ncondition.  I lost my senses; and whether I was thrown upon the\ncoast upon any part of the wreck, or whether heaven, which\nreserved me for other misfortunes, wrought a miracle for my\ndeliverance, I found myself on shore when my senses returned.\n\nMisfortunes very often make us forget our duty.  Instead of\nreturning thanks to God for so singular a favour shewn me, I only\nlifted up my eyes to heaven, to complain because I had been\npreserved.  I was so far from bewailing the vizier and my\ngoverness, that I envied their fate, and dreadful imaginations by\ndegrees prevailing over my reason, I resolved to cast myself into\nthe sea; I was on the point of doing so, when I heard behind me a\ngreat noise of men and horses.  I looked about to see what it\nmight be, and espied several armed horsemen, among whom was one\nmounted on an Arabian horse.  He had on a garment embroidered\nwith silver, a girdle set with precious stones, and a crown of\ngold on his head.  Though his habit had not convinced me that he\nwas chief of the company, I should have judged it by the air of\ngrandeur which appeared in his person.  He was a young man\nextraordinarily well shaped, and perfectly beautiful.  Surprised\nto see a young lady alone in that place, he sent some of his\nofficers to ask who I was.  I answered only by weeping.  The\nshore being covered with the wreck of our ship, they concluded\nthat I was certainly some person who had escaped from the vessel.\nThis conjecture, and my inconsolable condition, excited the\ncuriosity of the officers, who began to ask me a thousand\nquestions, with assurances, that their master was a generous\nprince, and that I should receive protection at his court.\n\nThe sultan, impatient to know who I was, grew weary of waiting\nthe return of his officers, and drew near to me.  He gazed on me\nvery earnestly, and observing that I did not cease weeping and\nafflicting myself, without being able to return an answer to\ntheir questions, he forbad them troubling me any more; and\ndirecting his discourse to me, \"Madam,\" said he, \"I conjure you\nto moderate your excessive affliction.  Though heaven in its\ndispensations has laid this calamity upon you, it does not behove\nyou to despair.  I beseech you shew more resolution.  Fortune,\nwhich has hitherto persecuted you, is inconstant, and may soon\nchange.  I dare assure you, that, if your misfortunes are capable\nof receiving any relief, you shall find it in my dominions.  My\npalace is at your service.  You shall live with the queen my\nmother, who will endeavour by her kindness to ease your\naffliction.  I know not yet who you are; but I find I already\ntake an interest in your welfare.\"\n\nI thanked the young sultan for his goodness to me, accepted his\nobliging offers; and to convince him that I was not unworthy of\nthem, told him my condition.  I described to him the insolence of\nthe young Saracen, and found it was enough to recount my\nmisfortunes, to excite compassion in him and all his officers,\nwho heard me.  When I had done speaking, the prince began again,\nassuring me that he was deeply concerned at my misfortunes.  He\nthen conducted me to his palace, and presented me to the queen\nhis mother, to whom I was obliged again to repeat my misfortunes\nand to renew my tears.  The queen seemed very sensible of my\ntrouble, and conceived extreme affection for me.  On the other\nhand, the sultan her son fell desperately in love with me, and\nsoon offered me his person and his crown.  I was so taken up with\nthe thoughts of my calamities, that the prince, though so lovely\na person, did not make so great an impression on me as he might\nhave done at another time.  However, gratitude prevailing, I did\nnot refuse to make him happy, and our nuptials were concluded\nwith all imaginable splendour.\n\nWhile the people were taken up with the celebration of their\nsovereign's nuptials, a neighbouring prince, his enemy, made a\ndescent by night on the island with a great number of troops.\nThat formidable enemy was the king of Zanguebar.  He surprised\nand cut to pieces my husband's subjects.  He was very near taking\nus both.  We escaped very narrowly, for he had already entered\nthe palace with some of his followers, but we found means to slip\naway, and to get to the seacoast, where we threw ourselves into a\nfishing boat which we had the good fortune to meet with.  Two\ndays we were driven about by the winds, without knowing what\nwould become of us.  The third day we espied a vessel making\ntowards us under sail.  We rejoiced at first, believing it had\nbeen a merchant ship which might take us aboard; but what was our\nconsternation, when, as it drew near, we saw ten or twelve armed\npirates appear on the deck.  Having boarded, five or six of them\nleaped into our boat, seized us, bound the prince, and conveyed\nus into their ship, where they immediately took off my veil.  My\nyouth and features touched them, and they all declared how much\nthey were charmed at the sight of me.  Instead of casting lots,\neach of them claimed the preference, and me as his right.  The\ndispute grew warm, they came to blows, and fought like madmen.\nThe deck was soon covered with dead bodies, and they were all\nkilled but one, who being left sole possessor of me, said, \"You\nare mine.  I will carry you to Grand Cairo, to deliver you to a\nfriend of mine, to whom I have promised a beautiful slave.  But\nwho,\" added he, looking upon the sultan my husband, \"is that man?\nWhat relation does he bear to you?  Are you allied by blood or\nlove?\"  \"Sir,\" answered I, \"he is my husband.\"  \"If so,\" replied\nthe pirate, \"in pity I must rid myself of him: it would be too\ngreat an affliction to him to see you in my friend's arms.\"\nHaving spoken these words, he took up the unhappy prince, who was\nbound, and threw him into the sea, notwithstanding all my\nendeavours to prevent him.\n\nI shrieked in a dreadful manner at the sight of what he had done,\nand had certainly cast myself headlong into the sea, but that the\npirate held me.  He saw my design, and therefore bound me with\ncords to the main-mast, then hoisting sail, made towards the\nland, and got ashore.  He unbound me and led me to a little town,\nwhere he bought camels, tents, and slaves, and then set out for\nGrand Cairo, designing, as he still said, to present me to his\nfriend, according to his promise.\n\nWe had been several days upon the road, when, as we were crossing\nthis plain yesterday, we descried the black who inhabited this\ncastle.  At a distance we took him for a tower, and when near us,\ncould scarcely believe him to be a man.  He drew his huge\nscimitar, and summoned the pirate to yield himself prisoner, with\nall his slaves, and the lady he was conducting.  The pirate was\ndaring; and being seconded by his slaves, who promised to stand\nby him, he attacked the black.  The combat lasted a considerable\ntime; but at length the pirate fell under his enemy's deadly\nblows, as did all his slaves, who chose rather to die than\nforsake him.  The black then conducted me to the castle, whither\nhe also brought the pirate's body, which he devoured that night.\nAfter his inhuman repast, perceiving that I ceased not weeping,\nhe said to me, \"Young lady, prepare to love me, rather than\ncontinue thus to afflict yourself.  Make a virtue of necessity,\nand comply.  I will give you till to-morrow to consider.  Let me\nthen find you comforted for all your misfortunes, and overjoyed\nat having been reserved for me.\"  Having spoken these words, he\nconducted me to a chamber, and withdrew to his own, after locking\nup the castle gates.  He opened them this morning, and presently\nlocked them after him again, to pursue some travellers he\nperceived at a distance; but it is likely they made their escape,\nsince he was returning alone, and without any booty, when you\nattacked him.\n\nAs soon as the princess had finished the recital of her\nadventures, Codadad declared to her that he was deeply concerned\nat her misfortunes.  \"But, madam,\" added he, \"it shall be your\nown fault if you do not live at ease for the future.  The sultan\nof Harran's sons offer you a safe retreat in the court of their\nfather; be pleased to accept of it.  You will be there cherished\nby that sovereign, and respected by all; and if you do not\ndisdain the affection of your deliverer, permit me to assure you\nof it, and to espouse you before all these princes; let them be\nwitnesses to our contract.\"  The princess consented, and the\nmarriage was concluded that very day in the castle, where they\nfound all sorts of provisions.  The kitchens were full of flesh\nand other eatables the black used to feed on, when he was weary\nof feeding on human bodies.  There was also a variety of fruits,\nexcellent in their kinds; and, to complete their pleasure,\nabundance of delicious wine and other liquors.\n\nThey all sat down at table; and after having eaten and drunk\nplentifully, took with them the rest of the provisions, and set\nout for the sultan of Harran's court: they travelled several\ndays, encamping in the pleasantest places they could find, and\nwere within one day's journey of Harran, when having halted and\ndrunk all their wine, being under no longer concern to make it\nhold out, Codadad directing his discourse to all his company,\nsaid \"Princes, I have too long concealed from you who I am.\nBehold your brother Codadad!  I have received my being, as well\nas you, from the sultan of Harran, the prince of Samaria brought\nme up, and the princess Pirouz\u00e8 is my mother.  Madam,\" added he,\naddressing himself to the Princess of Deryabar, \"do you also\nforgive me for having concealed my birth from you?  Perhaps, by\ndiscovering it sooner, I might have prevented some disagreeable\nreflections, which may have been occasioned by a match you may\nhave thought unequal.\"  \"No, sir,\" answered the princess,  \"the\nopinion I at first conceived of you heightened every moment, and\nyou did not stand in need of the extraction you now discover to\nmake me happy.\"\n\nThe princes congratulated Codadad on his birth, and expressed\nmuch satisfaction at being made acquainted with it.  But in\nreality, instead of rejoicing, their hatred of so amiable a\nbrother was increased.  They met together at night, whilst\nCodadad and the princess his wife lay asleep in their tent.\nThose ungrateful, those envious brothers, forgetting that had it\nnot been for the brave son of Pirouz\u00e8 they must have been\ndevoured by the black, agreed among themselves to murder him.\n\"We have no other course to choose,\" said one of them, \"for the\nmoment our father shall come to understand that this stranger of\nwhom he is already so fond, is our brother, and that he alone has\nbeen able to destroy a giant, whom we could not all of us\ntogether conquer, he will declare him his heir, to the prejudice\nof all his brothers, who will be obliged to obey and fall down\nbefore him.\"  He added much more, which made such an impression\non their envious and unnatural minds, that they immediately\nrepaired to Codadad, then asleep, stabbed him repeatedly, and\nleaving him for dead in the arms of the princess of Deryabar,\nproceeded on their journey for the city of Harran, where they\narrived the next day.\n\nThe sultan their father conceived the greater joy at their\nreturn, because he had despaired of ever seeing them again: he\nasked what had been the occasion of their stay?  But they took\ncare not to acquaint him with it, making no mention either of the\nblack or of Codadad; and only said, that, being curious to see\ndifferent countries, they had spent some time in the neighbouring\ncities.\n\nIn the mean time Codadad lay in his tent weltering in his blood,\nand little differing from a dead man, with the princess his wife,\nwho seemed to be in not much better condition than himself.  She\nrent the air with her dismal shrieks, tore her hair, and bathing\nher husband's body with her tears, \"Alas! Codadad, my dear\nCodadad,\" cried she, \"is it you whom I behold just departing this\nlife?  What cruel hands have put you into this condition?  Can I\nbelieve these are your brothers who have treated you so\nunmercifully, those brothers whom thy valour had saved?  No, they\nare rather devils, who under characters so dear came to murder\nyou.  O barbarous wretches! how could you make so ungrateful a\nreturn for the service he has done you?  But why should I\ncomplain of your brothers, unfortunate Codadad! I alone am to\nblame for your death.  You would join your fate with mine, and\nall the ill fortune that has attended me since I left my father's\npalace has fallen upon you.  O Heaven! which has condemned me to\nlead a life of calamities, if you will not permit me to have a\nconsort, why did you permit me to find one?  Behold you have now\nrobbed me of two, just as I began to be attached to them.\"\n\nBy these and other moving expressions, the afflicted princess of\nDeryabar vented her sorrow, fixing her eyes on the unfortunate\nCodadad, who could not hear her; but he was not dead, and his\nconsort observing that he still breathed, ran to a large town she\nespied in the plain, to inquire for a surgeon.  She was directed\nto one, who went immediately with her; but when they came to the\ntent, they could not find Codadad, which made them conclude he\nhad been dragged away by some wild beast to be devoured.  The\nprincess renewed her complaints and lamentations in a most\naffecting manner.  The surgeon was moved and being unwilling to\nleave her in so distressed a condition, proposed to her to return\nto the town offering her his house and service.\n\nShe suffered herself to be prevailed on.  The surgeon conducted\nher to his house, and without knowing, as yet, who she was,\ntreated her with all imaginable courtesy and respect.  He used\nall his endeavours to comfort her, but it was vain to think of\nremoving her sorrow, which was rather heightened than diminished.\n\"Madam,\" said he to her one day, \"be pleased to recount to me\nyour misfortunes; tell me your country and your condition.\nPerhaps I may give you some good advice, when I am acquainted\nwith all the circumstances of your calamity.  You do nothing but\nafflict yourself, without considering that remedies may be found\nfor the most desperate diseases.\"\n\nThe surgeon's words were so efficacious, that they wrought on the\nprincess, who recounted to him all her adventures: and when she\nhad done, the surgeon directed his discourse to her; \"Madam,\"\nsaid he, \"you ought not thus to give way to your sorrow; you\nought rather to arm yourself with resolution, and perform what\nthe name and the duty of a wife require of you.  You are bound to\navenge your husband.  If you please, I will wait on you as your\nattendant.  Let us go to the sultan of Harran's court; he is a\ngood and a just prince.  You need only represent to him in lively\ncolours, how prince Codadad has been treated by his brothers.  I\nam persuaded he will do you justice.\"  \"I submit to your\nreasons,\" answered the princess; \"it is my duty to endeavour to\navenge Codadad; and since you are so generous as to offer to\nattend me, I am ready to set out.\"  No sooner had she fixed this\nresolution, than the surgeon ordered two camels to be made ready,\non which the princess and he mounted, and repaired to Harran.\n\nThey alighted at the first caravanserai they found, and inquired\nof the host the news at court.  \"It is,\" said he, \"in very great\nperplexity.  The sultan had a son, who lived long with him as a\nstranger, and none can tell what is become of the young prince.\nOne of the sultan's wives, named Pirouz\u00e8, is his mother; she has\nmade all possible inquiry, but to no purpose.  All are concerned\nat the loss of this prince, because he had great merit.  The\nsultan has forty-nine other sons, all by different mothers, but\nnot one of them has virtue enough to comfort him for the death of\nCodadad; I say, his death, because it is impossible he should be\nstill alive, since no intelligence has been heard of him,\nnotwithstanding so much search has been made.\"\n\nThe surgeon having heard this account from the host, concluded\nthat the best course the princess of Deryabar could take was to\nwait upon Pirouz\u00e8; but that step was not without some danger, and\nrequired much precaution: for it was to be feared, that if the\nsultan of Harran's sons should happen to hear of the arrival of\ntheir sister-in-law, and her design, they might cause her to be\nconveyed away before she could discover herself to Codadad's\nmother.  The surgeon weighed all these circumstances, considered\nwhat risk he might run himself, and therefore, that he might\nmanage matters with discretion, desired the princess to remain in\nthe caravanserai, whilst he repaired to the palace, to observe\nwhich might be the safest way to conduct her to Pirouz\u00e8.\n\nHe went accordingly into the city, and was walking towards the\npalace, like one led only by curiosity to see the court, when he\nbeheld a lady mounted on a mule richly accoutred.  She was\nfollowed by several ladies mounted also on mules, with a great\nnumber of guards and black slaves.  All the people formed a lane\nto see her pass along, and saluted her by prostrating themselves\non the ground.  The surgeon paid her the same respect, and then\nasked a calender, who happened to stand by him, \"Whether that\nlady was one of the sultan's wives?\"  \"Yes, brother,\" answered\nthe calender, \"she is, and the most honoured and beloved by the\npeople, because she is the mother of prince Codadad, of whom you\nmust have heard.\"\n\nThe surgeon asked no more questions, but followed Pirouz\u00e8 to a\nmosque, into which she went to distribute alms, and assist at the\npublic prayers which the sultan had ordered to be offered up for\nthe safe return of Codadad.  The people, who were highly\nconcerned for that young prince, ran in crowds to join their vows\nto the prayers of the priests, so that the mosque was quite full.\nThe surgeon broke through the throng, and advanced to Pirouz\u00e8's\nguards.  He waited the conclusion of the prayers, and when the\nprincess went out, stepped up to one of her slaves, and whispered\nhim in the ear, \"Brother, I have a secret of moment to impart to\nthe princess Pirouz\u00e8; may not I, by your means, be introduced\ninto her apartment?\"  \"If that secret,\" answered the slave,\n\"relate to prince Codadad, I dare promise you shall have audience\nof her this very day; but if it concern not him, it is needless\nfor you to endeavour to be introduced; for her thoughts are all\nengrossed by her son, and she will not hear of any other\nsubject.\"  \"It is only about that dear son,\" replied the surgeon,\n\"that I wish to speak to her.\"  \"If so,\" said the slave, \"you\nneed only follow us to the palace, and you shall soon have the\nopportunity.\"\n\nAccordingly, as soon as Pirouz\u00e8 was returned to her apartment,\nthe slave acquainted her that a person unknown had some important\ninformation to communicate to her, and that it related to prince\nCodadad.  No sooner had he uttered these words, than Pirouz\u00e8\nexpressed her impatience to see the stranger.  The slave\nimmediately conducted him into the princess's closet, who ordered\nall her women to withdraw, except two, from whom she concealed\nnothing.  As soon as she saw the surgeon, she asked him eagerly,\nwhat news he had to tell her of Codadad?  \"Madam,\" answered the\nsurgeon, after having prostrated himself on the ground, \"I have a\nlong account to give you, and such as will surprise you.\"  He\nthen related all the particulars of what had passed between\nCodadad and his brothers, which she listened to with eager\nattention; but when he came to speak of the murder, the tender\nmother fainted away on her sofa, as if she had herself been\nstabbed like her son.  Her two women used proper means, and soon\nbrought her to herself.  The surgeon continued his relation; and\nwhen he had concluded, Pirouz\u00e8 said to him, \"Go back to the\nprincess of Deryabar, and assure her from me that the sultan\nshall soon own her for his daughter-in-law; and as for yourself,\nbe satisfied, that your services shall be rewarded as liberally\nas they deserve.\"\n\nWhen the surgeon was gone, Pirouz\u00e8 remained on the sofa, in such\na state of affliction as may easily be imagined; and yielding to\nher tenderness at the recollection of Codadad, \"O my son,\" said\nshe, \"I must never then expect to see you more!  Alas! when I\ngave you leave to depart from Samaria, and you took leave of me,\nI did not imagine that so unfortunate a death awaited you at such\na distance from me.  Unfortunate Codadad!  Why did you leave me?\nYou would not, it is true, have acquired so much renown, but you\nhad been still alive, and not have cost your mother so many\ntears.\"  While she uttered these words, she wept bitterly, and\nher two attendants moved by her grief, mingled their tears with\nhers.\n\nWhilst they were all three in this manner vying in affliction,\nthe sultan came into the closet, and seeing them in this\ncondition, asked Pirouz\u00e8 whether she had received any bad news\nconcerning Codadad?  \"Alas! sir,\" said she, \"all is over, my son\nhas lost his life, and to add to my sorrow, I cannot pay him the\nfuneral rites; for, in all probability, wild beasts have devoured\nhim.\"  She then told him all she had heard from the surgeon, and\ndid not fail to enlarge on the inhuman manner in which Codadad\nhad been murdered by his brothers.\n\nThe sultan did not give Pirouz\u00e8 time to finish her relation, but\ntransported with anger, and giving way to his passion, \"Madam,\"\nsaid he to the princess, \"those perfidious wretches who cause you\nto shed these tears, and are the occasion of mortal grief to\ntheir father, shall soon feel the punishment due to their guilt.\"\nThe sultan having spoken these words, with indignation in his\ncountenance, went directly to the presence-chamber where all his\ncourtiers attended, and such of the people as had petitions to\npresent to him.  They were alarmed to see him in passion, and\nthought his anger had been kindled against his people.  Their\nhearts were chilled with fear.  He ascended the throne, and\ncausing his grand vizier to approach, \"Hassan,\" said he, \"go\nimmediately, take a thousand of my guards, and seize all the\nprinces, my sons; shut them up in the tower used as a prison for\nmurderers, and let this be done in a moment.\"  All who were\npresent trembled at this extraordinary command; and the grand\nvizier, without uttering a word, laid his hand on his head, to\nexpress his obedience, and hastened from the hall to execute his\norders.  In the mean time the sultan dismissed those who attended\nfor audience, and declared he would not hear of any business for\na month to come.  He was still in the hall when the vizier\nreturned.  \"Are all my sons,\" demanded he, \"in the tower?\"  \"They\nare, sir,\" answered the vizier, \"I have obeyed your orders.\"\n\"This is not all,\" replied the sultan, \"I have further commands\nfor you;\" and so saying he went out of the hall of audience, and\nreturned to Pirouz\u00e8's apartment, the vizier following him.  He\nasked the princess where Codadad's widow had taken up her\nlodging?  Pirouz\u00e8's women told him, for the surgeon had not\nforgotten that in his relation.  The sultan then turning to his\nminister, \"Go,\" said he,  \"to this caravanserai, and conduct a\nyoung princess who lodges there, with all the respect due to her\nquality, to my palace.\"\n\nThe vizier was not long in performing what he was ordered.  He\nmounted on horseback with all the emirs and courtiers, and\nrepaired to the caravanserai, where the princess of Deryabar was\nlodged, whom he acquainted with his orders; and presented her,\nfrom the sultan, a fine white mule, whose saddle and bridle were\nadorned with gold, rubies, and diamonds.  She mounted, and\nproceeded to the palace.  The surgeon attended her, mounted on a\nbeautiful Tartar horse which the vizier had provided for him.\nAll the people were at their windows, or in the streets, to see\nthe cavalcade; and it being given out that the princess, whom\nthey conducted in such state to court, was Codadad's wife, the\ncity resounded with acclamations, the air rung with shouts of\njoy, which would have been turned into lamentations had that\nprince's fatal adventure been known; so much was he beloved by\nall.\n\nThe princess of Deryabar found the sultan at the palace-gate,\nwaiting to receive her: he took her by the hand, and led her to\nPirouz\u00e8's apartment, where a very moving scene took place.\nCodadad's wife found her affliction redouble at the sight of her\nhusband's father and mother; as, on the other hand, those parents\ncould not look on their son's wife without being much affected.\nShe cast herself at the sultan's feet, and having bathed them\nwith tears, was so overcome with grief, that she was not able to\nspeak.  Pirouz\u00e8 was in no better state.  And the sultan, moved by\nthese affecting objects, gave way to his own feelings, and wept.\nAll three, mingling their tears and sighs, for some time observed\na silence, equally tender and pitiful.  At length the princess of\nDeryabar, being somewhat recovered, recounted the adventure of\nthe castle, and Codadad's disaster.  Then she demanded justice\nfor the treachery of the princes.  \"Yes, madam,\" said the sultan,\n\"those ungrateful wretches shall perish; but Codadad's death must\nbe first made public, that the punishment of his brothers may not\ncause my subjects to rebel; and though we have not my son's body,\nwe will not omit paying him the last duties.\"  This said, he\ndirected his discourse to the vizier, and ordered him to cause to\nbe erected a dome of white marble, in a delightful plain, in the\nmidst of which the city of Harran stands.  Then he appointed the\nprincess of Deryabar a suitable apartment in his palace,\nacknowledging her for his daughter-in-law.\n\nHassan caused the work to be carried on with such diligence, and\nemployed so many workmen, that the dome was soon finished.\nWithin it was erected a tomb, which was covered with gold\nbrocade.  When all was completed, the sultan ordered prayers to\nbe said, and appointed a day for the obsequies of his son.\n\nOn that day all the inhabitants of the city went out upon the\nplain to see the ceremony performed, which was after the\nfollowing manner.  The sultan, attended by his vizier and the\nprincipal lords of the court, proceeded towards the dome, and\nbeing come to it, he went in and sat down with them on carpets of\nblack satin embroidered with gold flowers.  A great body of\nhorse-guards hanging their heads, drew up close about the dome,\nand marched round it twice, observing a profound silence; but at\nthe third round they halted before the door, and all of them with\na loud voice pronounced these words: \"O prince! son to the\nsultan, could we by dint of sword, and human valour, repair your\nmisfortune, we would bring you back to life; but the King of\nkings has commanded, and the angel of death has obeyed.\"  Having\nuttered these words, they drew off, to make way for a hundred old\nmen, all of them mounted on black mules, and having long grey\nbeards.  These were anchorites, who had lived all their days\nconcealed in caves.  They never appeared in sight of the world,\nbut when they were to assist at the obsequies of the sultans of\nHarran, and of the princes of their family.  Each of these\nvenerable persons carried on his head a book, which he held with\none hand.  They took three turns round the dome without uttering\na word; then stopping before the door, one of them said, \"O\nprince! what can we do for thee?  If thou couldst be restored to\nlife by prayer or learning, we would rub our grey beards at thy\nfeet, and recite prayers; but the King of the universe has taken\nthee away for ever.\"\n\nThis said, the old men moved to a distance from the dome, and\nimmediately fifty beautiful young maidens drew near to it; each\nof them mounted on a little white horse; they wore no veils, and\ncarried gold baskets full of all sorts of precious stones.  They\nalso rode thrice round the dome, and halting at the same place as\nthe others had done, the youngest of them spoke in the name of\nall, as follows: \"O prince! once so beautiful, what relief can\nyou expect from us?  If we could restore you to life by our\ncharms, we would become your slaves.  But you are no longer\nsensible to beauty, and have no more occasion for us.\"\n\nWhen the young maids were withdrawn, the sultan and his courtiers\narose, and having walked thrice around the tomb, the sultan spoke\nas follows: \"O my dear son, light of my eyes, I have then lost\nthee for ever!\"  He accompanied these words with sighs, and\nwatered the tomb with his tears; his courtiers weeping with him.\nThe gate of the dome was then closed, and all the people returned\nto the city.  Next day there were public prayers in all the\nmosques, and the same was continued for eight days successively.\nOn the ninth the king resolved to cause the princes his sons to\nbe beheaded.  The people incensed at their cruelty towards\nCodadad, impatiently expected to see them executed.  The\nscaffolds were erecting, but the execution was respited, because,\non a sudden, intelligence was brought that the neighbouring\nprinces, who had before made war on the sultan of Harran, were\nadvancing with more numerous forces than on the first invasion,\nand were then not far from the city.  It had been long known that\nthey were preparing for war, but their preparations caused no\nalarm.  This news occasioned general consternation, and gave new\ncause to lament the loss of Codadad, who had signalized himself\nin the former war against the same enemies.  \"Alas!\" said they,\n\"were the brave Codadad alive, we should little regard those\nprinces who are coming to surprise us.\"  The sultan, nothing\ndismayed, raised men with all possible speed, formed a\nconsiderable army, and being too brave to await the enemy's\ncoming to attack him within his walls, marched out to meet them.\nThey, on their side, being informed by their advanced parties\nthat the sultan of Harran was marching to engage them, halted in\nthe plain, and formed their army.\n\nAs soon as the sultan discovered them, he also drew up his\nforces, and ranged them in order of battle.  The signal was given\nand he attacked them with extraordinary vigour; nor was the\nopposition inferior.  Much blood was shed on both sides, and the\nvictory remained long dubious; but at length it seemed to incline\nto the sultan of Harran's enemies, who, being more numerous, were\nupon the point of surrounding him, when a great body of cavalry\nappeared on the plain, and approached the two armies.  The sight\nof this fresh party daunted both sides, neither knowing what to\nthink of them: but their doubts were soon cleared; for they fell\nupon the flank of the sultan of Harran's enemies with such a\nfurious charge, that they soon broke and routed them.  Nor did\nthey stop here; they pursued them, and cut most of them in\npieces.\n\nThe sultan of Harran, who had attentively observed all that\npassed, admired the bravery of this strange body of cavalry,\nwhose unexpected arrival had given the victory to his army.  But,\nabove all, he was charmed with their chief, whom he had seen\nfighting with a more than ordinary valour.  He longed to know the\nname of the generous hero.  Impatient to see and thank him, he\nadvanced towards him, but perceived he was coming to prevent him.\nThe two princes drew near, and the sultan of Harran discovering\nCodadad in the brave warrior who had just assisted him, or rather\ndefeated his enemies, became motionless with joy and surprise.\n\"Father,\" said Codadad to him, \"you have sufficient cause to be\nastonished at the sudden appearance before your majesty of a man,\nwhom perhaps you concluded to be dead.  I should have been so had\nnot heaven preserved me still to serve you against your enemies.\"\n\"O my son!\" cried the sultan, \"is it possible that you are\nrestored to me?  Alas! I despaired of seeing you more.\"  So\nsaying he stretched out his arms to the young prince, who flew to\nsuch a tender embrace.\n\n\"I know all, my son,\" said the sultan again, after having long\nheld him in his arms.  \"I know what return your brothers have\nmade you for delivering them out of the hands of the black; but\nyou shall be revenged to-morrow.  Let us now go to the palace\nwhere your mother, who has shed so many tears on your account,\nexpects me to rejoice with us for the defeat of our enemies.\nWhat a joy will it be to her to be informed, that my victory is\nyour work!\"  \"Sir,\" said Codadad, \"give me leave to ask how you\ncould know the adventure of the castle?  Have any of my brothers,\nrepenting, owned it to you?\"  \"No,\" answered the sultan; \"the\nprincess of Deryabar has given us an account of every thing, for\nshe is in my palace and came thither to demand justice against\nyour brothers.\"  Codadad was transported with joy, to learn that\nthe princess his wife was at the court.  \"Let us go, sir,\" cried\nhe to his father in rapture, \"let us go to my mother, who waits\nfor us.  I am impatient to dry up her tears, as well as those of\nthe princess of Deryabar.\"\n\nThe sultan immediately returned to the city with his army, and\nre-entered his palace victorious, amidst the acclamations of the\npeople, who followed him in crowds, praying to heaven to prolong\nhis life, and extolling Codadad to the skies.  They found Pirouz\u00e8\nand her daughter-in-law waiting to congratulate the sultan; but\nwords cannot express the transports of joy they felt, when they\nsaw the young prince with him: their embraces were mingled with\ntears of a very different kind from those they had before shed\nfor him.  When they had sufficiently yielded to all the emotions\nthat the ties of blood and love inspired, they asked Codadad by\nwhat miracle he came to be still alive?\n\nHe answered, that a peasant mounted on a mule happening\naccidentally to come into the tent, where he lay senseless, and\nperceiving him alone, and stabbed in several places, had made him\nfast on his mule, and carried him to his house, where he applied\nto his wounds certain herbs chewed, which recovered him.  \"When I\nfound myself well,\" added he, \"I returned thanks to the peasant,\nand gave him all the diamonds I had.  I then made for the city of\nHarran; but being informed by the way, that some neighbouring\nprinces had gathered forces, and were on their march against the\nsultan's subjects, I made myself known to the villagers, and\nstirred them up to undertake his defence.  I armed a great number\nof young men, and heading them, happened to arrive at the time\nwhen the two armies were engaged.\"\n\nWhen he had done speaking, the sultan said, \"Let us return thanks\nto God for having preserved Codadad; but it is requisite that the\ntraitors, who would have destroyed him, should perish.\"  \"Sir,\"\nanswered the generous prince, \"though they are wicked and\nungrateful, consider they are your own flesh and blood: they are\nmy brothers; I forgive their offence, and beg you to pardon\nthem.\"  This generosity drew tears from the sultan, who caused\nthe people to be assembled and declared Codadad his heir.  He\nthen ordered the princes, who were prisoners, to be brought out\nloaded with irons.  Pirouz\u00e8's son struck off their chains, and\nembraced them all successively, with as much sincerity and\naffection as he had done in the court of the black's castle.  The\npeople were charmed with Codadad's generosity, and loaded him\nwith applause.  The surgeon was next nobly rewarded in requital\nof the services he had done the princess of Deryabar.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF ABOU HASSAN, OR THE SLEEPER\n                           AWAKENED.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, there lived at\nBagdad a very rich merchant, who, having married a woman advanced\nin years, had but one son, whom he named Abou Hassan, and\neducated with great restraint: when his son was thirty years old,\nthe merchant dying, left him his sole heir, and master of great\nriches, amassed together by much frugality and close application\nto business. Abou Hassan, whose views and inclinations were very\ndifferent from those of his father, determined to make another\nuse of his wealth; for as his father had never allowed him any\nmoney but what was just necessary for subsistence, and he had\nalways envied those young persons of his age who wanted for\nnothing, and who debarred themselves from none of those pleasures\nto which youth are so much addicted, he resolved in his turn to\ndistinguish himself by extravagancies proportionable to his\nfortune. To this end he divided his riches into two parts; with\none half he bought houses in town, and land in the country, with\na resolution never to touch the income of his real estate, which\nwas considerable enough to live upon .very handsomely, but lay it\nall by as he received it. With the other half, which consisted of\nready money, he designed to make himself amends for the time he\nhad lost by the severe restraint in which his father had always\nkept him.\n\nWith this intent, Abou Hassan formed a society with youths of his\nown age and condition, who thought of nothing but how to make\ntheir time pass agreeably. Every day he gave them splendid\nentertainments, at which the most delicate viands were served up,\nand the most exquisite wines flowed in profusion, while concerts\nof the best vocal and instrumental music by performers of both\nsexes heightened their pleasures, and this young band of\ndebauchees with the glasses in their hands, joined their songs\nwith the music. These feasts were accompanied by ballets, for\nwhich the best dancers of both sexes were engaged. These\nentertainments, renewed every day, were so expensive to Abou\nHassan, that he could not support the extravagance above a year:\nand the great sum which he had appropriated to this prodigality\nand the year ended together. As soon as he discontinued keeping\nthis table, his friends forsook him; whenever they saw him they\navoided him, and if by chance he met any of them, and went to\nstop them, they always excused themselves on some presence or\nother.\n\nAbou Hassan was more affected by this behaviour of his friends,\nwho had forsaken him so basely and ungratefully, after all the\nprotestations they had made him, of inviolable attachment, than\nby the loss of all the money he had so foolishly squandered. He\nwent melancholy and thoughtful, his countenance expressive of\ndeep vexation, into his mother's apartment, and sat down on the\nend of a sofa at a distance from her. \"What is the matter with\nyou, son?\" said his mother, seeing him thus depressed. \"Why are\nyou so altered, so dejected, and so different from yourself? You\ncould not certainly be more concerned, if you had lost all you\nhad. I know you have lived very extravagantly, and believe all\nyour money is spent; you have still, however, a good estate; and\nthe reason that I did not so much oppose your irregular way of\nliving was, that I knew the wise precaution you had taken to\npreserve half your property. I do not, therefore, see why you\nshould plunge yourself into this deep melancholy.\"\n\nAt these words Abou Hassan melted into tears; and in the midst of\nhis sighs exclaimed, \"Ah! mother, I see at last how insupportable\npoverty must be; I am sensible that it deprives us of joy, as the\nsetting of the sun does of light. As poverty makes us forget all\nthe commendations passed upon us before our fall, it makes us\nendeavour to conceal ourselves, and spend our nights in tears and\nsorrow. In short, a poor man is looked upon, both by friends and\nrelations, as a stranger. You know, mother, how I have treated my\nfriends for this year past; I have entertained them with all\nimaginable generosity, till I have spent all my money, and now\nthey have left me, when they suppose I can treat them no longer.\nFor my real estate, I thank heaven for having given me grace to\nkeep the oath I made not to encroach upon that. I shall now know\nhow to use what is left. But I will, however, try how far my\nfriends, who deserve not that I should call them so, will carry\ntheir ingratitude. I will go to them one after another, and when\nI have represented to them what I have done on their account, ask\nthem to make up a sum of money, to relieve me, merely to try if I\ncan find any sentiment of gratitude remaining in them.\"\n\n\"I do not pretend, son,\" said Abou Hassan's mother, \"to dissuade\nyou from your design; but I can tell you beforehand, that you\nhave no ground for hope. Believe me, you will kind no relief but\nfrom the estate you have reserved. I see you do not, but will\nsoon, know those people, who, among persons of your sort, are\ngenerally called friends, and I wish to heaven you may know it in\nthe manner I desire, for your own good.\" \"Mother,\" replied Abou\nHassan, \"I am persuaded of the truth of what you say, but shall\nbe more certain of a fact which concerns me so nearly, when I\nshall have informed myself fully of their baseness and\ninsensibility.\" Abou Hassan went immediately to his friends, whom\nhe found at home; represented to them the great need he was in,\nand begged of them to assist him. He promised to give bonds to\npay them the money they might lend him; giving them to understand\nat the same time, that it was, in a great measure, on their\naccount that he was so distressed. That he might the more\npowerfully excite their generosity, he forgot not to allure them\nwith the hopes of being once again entertained in the same manner\nas before.\n\nNot one of his companions was affected with the arguments which\nthe afflicted Abou Hassan used to persuade them; and he had the\nmortification to find, that many of them told him plainly they\ndid not know him.\n\nHe returned home full of indignation; and going into his mother's\napartment, said, \"Ah! madam, you were right; instead of friends,\nI have found none but perfidious ungrateful wretches, who deserve\nnot my friendship; I renounce them, and promise you I will never\nsee them more.\" He resolved to be as good as his word, and took\nevery precaution to avoid falling again into the inconvenience\nwhich his former prodigality had occasioned; taking an oath never\nto give an inhabitant of Bagdad any entertainment while he lived.\nHe drew the strong box into which he had put the rents received\nfrom his estates from the recess where he had placed it in\nreserve, put it in the room of that he had emptied, and resolved\nto take out every day no more than was sufficient to defray the\nexpense of a single person to sup with him, who, according to the\noath he had taken, was not of Bagdad, but a stranger arrived in\nthe city the same day, and who must take his leave of him the\nfollowing morning.\n\nConformably to this plan, Abou Hassan took care every morning to\nprovide whatever was necessary, and towards the close of the\nevening, went and sat at the end of Bagdad bridge; and as soon as\nhe saw a stranger, accosted him civilly invited him to sup and\nlodge with him that night, and after having informed him of the\nlaw he had imposed upon himself, conducted him to his house. The\nrepast with which Abou Hassan regaled his guests was not costly,\nbut well dressed, with plenty of good wine, and generally lasted\ntill the night was pretty far advanced; instead of entertaining\nhis guests with the affairs of state, his family, or business, as\nis too frequent, he conversed on different agreeable subjects. He\nwas naturally of so gay and pleasant a temper, that he could give\nthe most agreeable turns to every subject, and make the most\nmelancholy persons merry. When he sent away his guest the next\nmorning, he always said, \"God preserve you from all sorrow\nwherever you go; when I invited you yesterday to come and sup\nwith me, I informed you of the law I have imposed on myself;\ntherefore do not take it ill if I tell you that we must never see\none another again, nor drink together, either at home or any\nwhere else, for reasons best known to myself: so God conduct\nyou.\"\n\nAbou Hassan was very exact in the observance of this oath, and\nnever looked upon or spoke to the strangers he had once\nentertained; if he met them afterwards in the streets, the\nsquares, or any public assemblies, he affected not to see them,\nand turned away to avoid them, that they might not speak to him,\nor he have any communication with them. He had acted for a long\ntime in this manner, when, one afternoon, a little before sunset,\nas he sat upon the bridge according to custom, the caliph Haroon\nal Rusheed came by, but so disguised that it was impossible to\nknow him; for that monarch, though his chief ministers and\nofficers of justice acquitted themselves of their duty very\npunctually, would nevertheless inform himself of every thing, and\nfor that purpose often disguised himself in different ways, and\nwalked through the city and suburbs of Bagdad, sometimes one way\nand sometimes another. That day, being the first of the month, he\nwas dressed like a merchant of Moussul, and was followed by a\ntall stout slave.\n\nAs the caliph had in his disguise a grave and respectable\nappearance, Abou Hassan, who thought him to be a Moussul\nmerchant, rose up, and after having saluted him with a graceful\nair, said to him, \"Sir, I congratulate you on your happy arrival\nin Bagdad, I beg you to do me the honour to sup with me, and\nrepose yourself at my house for this night, after the fatigue of\nyour journey.\" He then told him his custom of entertaining the\nfirst stranger he met with. The caliph found something so odd and\nsingular in Abou Hassan's whim, that he was very desirous to know\nthe cause; and told him that he could not better merit a\ncivility, which he did not expect as a stranger, than by\naccepting the obliging offer made him; that he had only to lead\nthe way, and he was ready to follow him.\n\nAbou Hassan treated the caliph as his equal, conducted him home,\nand led him into a room very neatly furnished, where he set him\non a sofa, in the most honourable place. Supper was ready, and\nthe cloth laid. Abou Hassan's mother, who took upon herself the\ncare of the kitchen, sent up three dishes; the first contained a\ncapon and four large pullets, which was set in the middle; and\nthe second and third, placed on each side, contained, one a fat\nroasted goose, and the other broiled pigeons. This was all; but\nthey were good of the kind and well flavoured, with proper\nsauces.\n\nAbou Hassan sat down opposite his guest, and he and the caliph\nbegan to eat heartily of what they liked best, without speaking\nor drinking, according to the custom of the country. When they\nhad done eating, the caliph's slave brought them water to wash\ntheir hands: and in the mean time Abou Hassan's mother cleared\nthe table, and brought up a dessert of all the various sorts or\nfruits then in season; as grapes, peaches, apples, pears, and\nvarious pastes of dried almonds, &c. As soon as it grew dark, wax\ncandles were lighted, and Abou Hassan, after requesting his\nmother to take care of the caliph's slave, set on bottles and\nglasses.\n\nAbou Hassan sitting down with the pretended Moussul merchant\nagain, filled out a glass of wine before he touched the fruit;\nand holding it in his hand, said to the caliph, \"You know, sir,\nthat the cock never drinks before he calls to his hens to come\nand drink with him; I invite you to follow my example. I do not\nknow what you may think; but, for my part, I cannot reckon him a\nwise man who does not love wine. Let us leave that sort of people\nto their dull melancholy humours, and seek for mirth, which is\nonly to be found in a bumper.\"\n\nWhile Abou Hassan was drinking' the caliph taking the glass that\nwas set for him, said, \"You are an honest fellow; I like your\npleasant temper, and expect you will fill me as much.\" Abou\nHassan, as soon as he had drunk, filled the caliph's glass, and\ngiving it to him, \"Taste this wine, sir,\" said he, \"I will\nwarrant it good.\" \"I am well persuaded of that,\" replied the\ncaliph, laughing, \"you know how to choose the best.\" \"O,\" replied\nAbou Hassan, while the caliph was drinking his glass, \"one need\nonly look in your face to be assured that you have seen the\nworld, and know what good living is. If,\" added he in Arabic\nverse, \"my house could think and express its joy, how happy would\nit be to possess you, and, bowing before you, would exclaim, \u0091How\noverjoyed am I to see myself honoured with the company of so\naccomplished and polite a personage, and for meeting with a man\nof your merit.'\"\n\nThe caliph, naturally fond of merriment, was highly diverted with\nthese sallies of Abou Hassan, and artfully promoted drinking,\noften asking for wine, thinking that when it began to operate, he\nmight from his talkativeness satisfy his curiosity. He asked him\nhis name, his business, and how he spent his life. \"My name,\nsir,\" replied he, \"is Abou Hassan. I lost my father, who was a\nmerchant of Bagdad, and though not the richest, yet lived very\ncomfortably. When he died, he left me money enough to live free\nfrom business; but as he always kept a very strict hand over me,\nI was willing, when he was gone, to make up for the time I\nthought I had lost. Notwithstanding this,\" continued Abou Hassan,\n\"I was more prudent than most young people who give themselves up\nto debauchery, without any thought, pursue it till they reduce\nthemselves to the utmost poverty, and are forced to do penance\nduring the rest of their lives. To avoid this misfortune, I\ndivided what I had left me into two parts, landed estate and\nready money. I destined the ready money to supply the expenses of\nentertaining my acquaintance. I meditated, and took a fixed\nresolution not to touch my rents. I associated with young people\nof my own age, and with my ready money, which I spent profusely,\ntreated them splendidly every day; and in short, spared for no\nsort of pleasure. But this course did not last long; for by the\ntime the year was out, I had got to the bottom of my box, and\nthen all my table-friends vanished. I made a visit to every one\nof them successively, and represented to them the miserable\ncondition I was in, but none of them offered to relieve me. Upon\nthis I renounced their friendship, and retrenched so far, as to\nlive within the compass of my income, bound myself to keep\ncompany with none but the first stranger I might meet with coming\nevery day into Bagdad, and to entertain him but one day and one\nnight. I have told you the rest before; and I thank my good\nfortune this day for having met with a stranger of so much\nworth.\"\n\nThe caliph was well satisfied with this information, and said to\nAbou Hassan, \"I cannot enough commend the measures you have\ntaken, and the prudence with which you have acted, by forsaking\nyour debauchery; a conduct rarely to be met with in young\npersons; and I esteem you the more for being steady to your\nresolution. It was a slippery path you trod in, and I cannot but\nadmire your self-command, that, after having seen the end of your\nready money, you could so far refrain as not to enter upon your\nrents, or even your estate. In short, I must own, I envy your\nsituation. You are the happiest man in the world, to enjoy every\nday the company of some one with whom you can discourse freely\nand agreeably, and to whom you give an opportunity to declare,\nwherever he goes, how handsome he was received by you. But we\ntalk too long without drinking; come, drink, and pour out a glass\nfor me.\"\n\nIn this manner the caliph and Abou Hassan conversed together,\ndrinking and talking of indifferent subjects, till the night was\npretty far advanced; when the caliph, pretending to be fatigued\nafter his journey, told his host he stood in need of a little\nrest. \"But,\" added he, \"as I would not deprive you of yours on my\naccount, before we part (because to-morrow I may be gone before\nyou are stirring), I should be glad to shew you how sensible I am\nof your civility, and the good cheer and hospitality you have\nstrewn me. The only thing that troubles me is, that I know not\nwhich way to make you any acknowledgment. I beg of you,\ntherefore, to let me understand how I may do it' and you shall\nsee I will not be ungrateful; for it is impossible but a man like\nyou must have some business, some want, or wish for something\nagreeable to you. Speak freely, and open your mind; for though I\nam but a merchant, it may be in my power to oblige you myself, or\nby some friend.\"\n\nTo these offers of the caliph, Abou Hassan, taking him still for\na Moussul merchant, replied, \"I am very well persuaded, sir, that\nit is not out of compliment that you make me these generous\ntenders; but upon the word of an honest man, I assure you, I have\nnothing that troubles me, no business, nor desires, and I ask\nnothing of any body. I have not the least ambition, as I told you\nbefore; and am satisfied with my condition: therefore, I can only\nthank you for your obliging proffers, and the honour you have\ndone me in condescending to partake of my frugal fare. Yet I must\ntell you,\" pursued Abou Hassan, \"there is one thing gives me\nuneasiness, without, however, disturbing my rest. You must know\nthe town of Bagdad is divided into quarters, in each of which\nthere is a mosque with an imaum to perform service at certain\nhours, at the head of the quarter which assembles there. The\nimaum of the division I live in is a surly curmudgeon, of an\naustere countenance, and the greatest hypocrite in the world.\nFour old men of this neighbourhood, who are people of the same\nstamp, meet regularly every day at this imaum's house. There they\nvent their slander, calumny, and malice against me and the whole\nquarter, to the disturbance of the peace of the neighbourhood,\nand the promotion of dissension. Some they threaten, others they\nfrighten; and, in short, would be lords paramount, and have every\none govern himself according to their caprice, though they know\nnot how to govern themselves. Indeed, I am sorry to see that they\nmeddle with any thing but their Koraun, and will not let the\nworld live quietly.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose,\" said the caliph, \"you wish to have a stop put\nto this disorder?\" \"You have guessed right,\" answered Abou\nHassan; \"and the only thing I should pray for, would be to be\ncaliph but for one day, in the stead of our sovereign lord and\nmaster Haroon al Rusheed, commander of the faithful.\" \"What would\nyou do if you were?\" said the caliph. \"I would make examples of\nthem,\" answered Abou Hassan, \"to the satisfaction of all honest\nmen. I would punish the four old men with each a hundred\nbastinadoes on the soles of their feet, and the imaum with four\nhundred, to teach them not to disturb and abuse their neighbours\nin future.\"\n\nThe caliph was extremely pleased with this thought of Abou\nHassan's; and as he loved adventures, resolved to make this a\nvery singular one. \"Indeed,\" said he, \"I approve much of your\nwish, which proceeds from an upright heart, that cannot bear the\nmalice of such officious hypocrites; I could like to see it\nrealized, and it is not so impossible as you may imagine. I am\npersuaded that the caliph would willingly put his authority for\ntwenty-four hours into your hands if he knew your intentions, and\nthe good use you would make of it. Though a foreign merchant, I\nhave credit enough to contribute in some degree to the execution\nof this plan.\" \"I see,\" said Abou Hassan, \"you laugh at my\nfoolish fancy, and the caliph himself would laugh at my\nextravagance if he knew it: yet it would be a means of informing\nhim of the behaviour of the imaum and his companions, and induce\nhim to chastise them.\"\n\n\"Heaven forbid,\" replied the caliph, \"that I, who have been so\nhandsomely entertained by you, should laugh at you; neither do I\nbelieve, as much a stranger as I am to you, that the caliph would\nbe displeased: but let us leave off talking; it is almost\nmidnight, and time to go to bed.\" \"With all my heart,\" said Abou\nHassan; \"I would not be any hindrance to your going to rest; but\nthere is still some wine in the bottle, and if you please we will\ndrink it off first, and then retire. The only thing that I have\nto recommend to you is, that when you go out in the morning, if I\nam not up, you will not leave the door open, but give yourself\nthe trouble of shutting it after you.\" This the caliph promised\nto do: and while Abou Hassan was talking, took the bottle and two\nglasses, filled his own first, saying, \"Here is a cup of thanks\nto you,\" and then filling the other, put into it artfully a\nlittle opiate powder, which he had about him and giving it to\nAbou Hassan, said, \"You have taken the pains to fill for me all\nnight, and it is the least I can do to save you the trouble once:\nI beg you to take this glass; drink it off for my sake.\"\n\nAbou Hassan took the glass, and to shew his guest with how much\npleasure he received the honour, drank it off at once; but had\nscarcely set the glass upon the table, when the powder began to\noperate; he fell into so sound a sleep, and his head knocked\nagainst his knees so suddenly, that the caliph could not help\nlaughing. The caliph commanded the slave he had brought with him,\nwho entered the room as soon as he had supped, and had waited to\nreceive orders, to take Abou Hassan upon his back, and follow\nhim; but to be sure to observe the house, that he might know it\nagain. In this manner the caliph, followed by the slave with his\nsleeping load, went out of the house, but without shutting the\ndoor after him as he had been desired, went directly to his\npalace, and by a private door into his own apartment, where the\nofficers of his chamber were in waiting, whom he ordered to\nundress Abou Hassan, and put him into his bed, which they\nimmediately performed.\n\nThe caliph then sent for all the officers and ladies of the\npalace, and said to them, \"I would have all those whose business\nit is to attend my levee wait to-morrow morning upon the man who\nlies in my bed, pay the same respect to him as to myself, and\nobey him in whatever he may command; let him be refused nothing\nthat he asks, and be addressed and answered as if he were the\ncommander of the faithful. In short, I expect that you attend to\nhim as the true caliph, without regarding me; and disobey him not\nin the least circumstance.\"\n\n\nThe officers and ladies, who understood that the caliph meant to\ndivert himself, answered by low bows, and then withdrew, every\none preparing to contribute to the best of their power to perform\ntheir respective parts adroitly.\n\nThe caliph next sent for the grand vizier: \"Jaaffier,\" said he,\n\"I have sent for you to instruct you, and to prevent your being\nsurprised to-morrow when you come to audience, at seeing this man\nseated on my throne in the royal robes: accost him with the same\nreverence and respect as you pay to myself: observe and\npunctually execute whatever he bids you do, the same as if I\ncommanded you. He will exercise great liberality, and commission\nyou with the distribution of it. Do all he commands; even if his\nliberality should extend so far as to empty all the coffers in my\ntreasury; and remember to acquaint all my emirs, and the officers\nwithout the palace, to pay him the same honour at audience as to\nmyself, and to carry on the matter so well, that he may not\nperceive the least thing that may interrupt the diversion which I\ndesign myself.\"\n\nAfter the grand vizier had retired, the caliph went to bed in\nanother apartment, and gave Mesrour, the chief of his eunuchs,\nthe orders which he was to execute, that every thing should\nsucceed as he intended, so that he might see how Abou Hassan\nwould use the power and authority of the caliph for the short\ntime he had desired to have it. Above all, he charged him not to\nfail to awaken him at the usual hour, before he awakened Abou\nHassan, because he wished to be present when he arose.\n\nMesrour failed not to do as the caliph had commanded, and as soon\nas the caliph went into the room where Abou Hassan lay, he placed\nhimself in a little raised closet, from whence he could see all\nthat passed. All the officers and ladies, who were to attend Abou\nHassan's levee, went in at the same time, and took their posts\naccording to their rank, ready to acquit themselves of their\nrespective duties, as if the caliph himself had been going to\nrise.\n\nAs it was just day-break, and time to prepare for the morning\nprayer before sun rise, the officer who stood nearest to the head\nof the bed put a sponge steeped in vinegar to Abou Hassan's nose,\nwho immediately turning his head about, without opening his eyes,\ndischarged a kind of phlegm, which was received in a little\ngolden basin before it fell on the carpet. This was the usual\neffect of the caliph's powder, the sleep lasting longer or\nshorter, in proportion to the dose. When Abou Hassan laid down\nhis head on the bolster, he opened his eyes; and by the dawning\nlight that appeared, found himself in a large room, magnificently\nfurnished, the ceiling of which was finely painted in Arabesque,\nadorned with vases of gold and silver, and the floor covered with\na rich silk tapestry. He saw himself surrounded by many young and\nhandsome ladies, many of them having instruments of music in\ntheir hands, and black eunuchs richly clothed, all standing with\ngreat modesty and respect. After casting his eyes on the covering\nof the bed, he perceived it was cloth of gold richly embossed\nwith pearl and diamonds; and near the bed lay, on a cushion, a\nhabit of tissue embroidered with jewels, with a caliph's turban.\n\nAt the sight of these glittering objects, Abou Hassan was in the\nmost inexpressible amazement, and looked upon all he saw as a\ndream; yet a dream he wished it not to be. \"So,\" said he to\nhimself, \"I am caliph; but,\" added he, recollecting himself, \"it\nis only a dream, the effect of the wish I entertained my guest\nwith last night ;\" and then he turned himself about and shut his\neyes to sleep. At the same time the eunuch said very\nrespectfully, \"Commander of the faithful, it is time for your\nmajesty to rise to prayers, the morning begins to advance.\"\n\nThese words very much surprised Abou Hassan. \"Am I awake, or do I\nsleep?\" said he to himself. \"Ah, certainly I am asleep!\"\ncontinued he, keeping his eyes shut; \"there is no reason to doubt\nof it.\"\n\nImmediately the eunuch, who saw he had no inclination to get up,\nsaid again, \"Your majesty must permit me to repeat once more that\nit is time to rise to morning prayer, unless you choose to let it\npass; the sun is just rising, and you never neglect this duty.\"\n\"I am mistaken,\" said Abou Hassan immediately, \"I am not asleep,\nbut awake; for those who sleep do not hear, and I hear somebody\nspeak to me;\" then opening his eyes again, he saw plainly by\nbroad day-light, what he had seen but indistinctly before; and\nstarted up, with a smiling countenance, like a man overjoyed at\nsudden promotion. The caliph, from his recess, penetrated his\nthoughts with great delight.\n\nThe young ladies of the palace now prostrated themselves with\ntheir faces to the ground before Abou Hassan, and those who had\ninstruments of music in their hands wished him a good morrow, by\na concert of soft flutes, hautboys, theorboes, and other\nharmonious instruments, with which he was enchanted, and in such\nan ecstacy, that he knew not whether he was himself; but\nreverting to his first idea, he still doubted whether what he saw\nand heard was a dream or reality. He clapped his hands before his\neyes, and lowering his head, said to himself, \"What means all\nthis? Where am I? and to whom does this palace belong? What can\nthese eunuchs, handsome well-dressed officers, beautiful ladies,\nand musicians mean: How is it possible for me to distinguish\nwhether I am in my right senses or in a dream?\"\n\nWhen he took his hands from his eyes, opened them, and lifted up\nhis head, the sun shone full in at the chamber window; and at\nthat instant Mesrour, the chief of the eunuchs, came in,\nprostrated himself before Abou Hassan, and said, \"Commander of\nthe faithful, your majesty will excuse me for representing to\nyou, that you used not to rise so late, and that the time of\nprayer is over. If your majesty has not had a bad night, it is\ntime to ascend your throne and hold a council as usual; all your\ngenerals, governors, and other great officers of state, wait your\npresence in the council-hall.\"\n\nAt this discourse, Abou Hassan was persuaded that he was neither\nasleep nor in a dream; but at the same time was not less\nembarrassed and confused under his uncertainty what steps to\ntake: at last, looking earnestly at Mesrour, he said to him in a\nserious tone, \"Whom is it you speak to, and call the commander of\nthe faithful? I do not know you, and you must mistake me for\nsomebody else.\"\n\nAny person but Mesrour would have been puzzled at these questions\nof Abou Hassan; but he had been so well instructed by the caliph,\nthat he played his part admirably. \"My imperial lord and master,\"\nsaid he, \"your majesty only speaks thus to try me. Is not your\nmajesty the commander of the faithful, monarch of the world from\neast to west, and vicar on earth to the prophet sent of God?\nMesrour, your poor slave, has not forgotten you, after so many\nyears that he has had the honour and happiness to serve and pay\nhis respects to your majesty. He would think himself the most\nunhappy of men, if he has incurred your displeasure, and begs of\nyou most humbly to remove his fears; but had rather suppose that\nyou have been disturbed by some troublesome dream.\"\n\nAbou Hassan burst out laughing at these words, and fell backwards\nupon the bolster, which pleased the caliph so much that he would\nhave laughed as loud himself, if he had not been afraid of\nputting a stop too soon to the pleasant scene he had promised\nhimself.\n\nAbou Hassan, when he had tired himself with laughing, sat up\nagain, and speaking to a little eunuch that stood by him, black\nas Mesrour, said, \"Hark ye, tell me whom I am?\" \"Sir,\" answered\nthe little boy, modestly, \"your majesty is the commander of the\nbelievers, and God's vicar on earth.\" \"You are a little liar,\nblack face,\" said Abou Hassan. Then he called the lady that stood\nnearest to him; \"Come hither, fair one,\" said he, holding out his\nhand, \"bite the end of my finger, that I may feel whether I am\nasleep or awake.\"\n\nThe lady, who knew the caliph saw all that passed, was overjoyed\nto have an opportunity of strewing her power of diverting him,\nwent with a grave countenance, and putting his finger between her\nteeth, bit it so hard that she put him to violent pain. Snatching\nhis hand quickly back again, he said, \"I find I am awake and not\nasleep. But by what miracle am I become caliph in a night's time!\nthis is certainly the most strange and surprising event in the\nworld!\" Then addressing himself to the same lady, he said, \"I\nconjure you, by the protection of God, in whom you trust as well\nas I, not to hide the truth from me; am I really the commander of\nthe faithful?\" \"It is so true,\" answered the lady, \"that we who\nare your slaves are amazed to find that you will not believe\nyourself to be so.\" \"You are a deceiver,\" replied Abou Hassan: \"I\nknow very well who I am.\"\n\nAs the chief of the eunuchs perceived that Abou Hassan now wished\nto rise, he offered him his hand, and helped him to get out of\nbed. No sooner were his feet set on the floor, than the chamber\nrang with the repeated acclamations of the officers and ladies,\nwho cried out all together, \"Commander of the faithful, God give\nyour majesty a good day.\" \"O heaven!\" cried Abou Hassan, \"what a\nstrange thing this is! Last night I was Abou Hassan, and this\nmorning I am the commander of the believers! I cannot comprehend\nthis sudden and surprising change.\" Presently some of the\nofficers began to dress him; and when they had done, Mesrour led\nhim through all the eunuchs and ladies, who were ranged on both\nsides, quite to the council chamber door, which was opened by one\nof the officers. Mesrour walked before him to the foot of the\nthrone, where he stopped, and putting one hand under one arm,\nwhile another officer who followed did the same by the other,\nthey helped him to ascend the throne. Abou Hassan sat down amidst\nthe acclamations of the officers, who wished him all happiness\nand prosperity, and turning to the right and left he saw the\nofficers of the guards ranged in order, and making a fine\nappearance.\n\nThe caliph in the mean time came out of the closet, and went into\nanother, which looked into the hall, from whence he could see and\nhear all that passed in council, where his grand vizier presided\nin his place. What pleased him highly, was to see Abou Hassan\nfill his throne with almost as much gravity as himself.\n\nAs soon as Abou Hassan had seated himself, the grand vizier\nprostrated himself at the foot of the throne, and rising, said,\n\"Commander of the faithful, God shower down blessings on your\nmajesty in this life, receive you into his paradise in the other\nworld, and confound your enemies.\"\n\nAbou Hassan, after all that had happened that morning, at these\nwords of the grand vizier, never doubted but that he was caliph,\nas he wished to be; and without examining any farther, how or by\nwhat adventure, or sudden change of fortune, he had become so,\nimmediately began to exercise his power, and looking very gravely\nat the vizier, asked him what he had to say? \"Commander of the\nfaithful,\" replied the grand vizier, \"the emirs, Vizier, and\nother officers of your council, wait without till your majesty\ngives them leave to pay their accustomed respects.\" Abou Hassan\nordered the door to be opened, and the grand vizier addressing\nhimself to the officers in waiting, said, \"Chief of the door-\nkeepers, the commander of the faithful orders you to do your\nduty.\"\n\nWhen the door was opened, the viziers, emirs, and principal\nofficers of the court, all dressed magnificently in their habits\nof ceremony, went in their order to the foot of the throne, paid\ntheir respects to Abou Hassan; and bowing their heads down to the\ncarpet, saluted him with the title of commander of the faithful,\naccording to the instructions of the grand vizier, and afterwards\ntook their seats.\n\nWhen this ceremony was over, and they were all placed, there was\na profound silence. The grand vizier always standing before the\nthrone, began according to the order of papers in his hand to\nmake his report of affairs, which at that time were of very\nlittle consequence. Nevertheless, the caliph could not but admire\nhow Abou Hassan acquitted himself in his exalted station without\nthe least hesitation or embarrassment, and decided well in all\nmatters, as his own good sense suggested. But before the grand\nvizier had finished his report, Abou Hassan perceived the judge\nof the police, whom he knew by sight, sitting in his place.\n\"Stop,\" said he, to the grand vizier, interrupting him; \"I have\nan order of consequence to give to the judge of the police.\" The\njudge of the police perceiving that Abou Hassan looked at him,\nand hearing his name mentioned, arose from his seat, and went\ngravely to the foot of the throne, where he prostrated himself\nwith his face to the ground. \"Judge of the police,\" said Abou\nHassan, \"go immediately to such a quarter, where you will find a\nmosque, seize the imaum and four old grey beards, give each of\nthe old men a hundred bastinadoes, and the imaum four hundred.\nAfter that, mount them all five, clothed in rags, on camels, with\ntheir faces to the tails, and lead them through the whole city,\nwith a crier before them, who shall proclaim with a loud voice,\n\u0091This is the punishment of all those who trouble their heads with\nother people's affairs, make it their business to create\ndisturbances and misunderstandings in families in their\nneighbourhood, and do them all the mischief in their power.' My\nintention is also, that you enjoin them to leave that quarter,\nand never to set foot in it more: and while your lieutenant is\nconducting them through the town, return, and give me an account\nof the execution of my orders.\" The judge of the police laid his\nhand upon his head, to shew his obedience, and prostrating\nhimself a second time retired to execute the mandate.\n\nThe caliph was highly pleased at the firmness with which this\norder was given, and perceived that Abou Hassan was resolved not\nto lose the opportunity of punishing the imaum and the other four\nold hypocrites of his quarter. In the mean time the grand vizier\nwent on with his report, and had just finished, when the judge of\nthe police came back from executing his commission. He approached\nthe throne with the usual ceremony, and said, \"Commander of the\nfaithful, I found the imaum and his four companions in the\nmosque, which your majesty pointed out; and as a proof that I\nhave punctually obeyed your commands, I have brought an\ninstrument signed by the principal inhabitants of the ward.\" At\nthe same time he pulled a paper out of his bosom, and presented\nit to the pretended caliph.\n\nAbou Hassan took the paper, and reading it over cautiously with\nthe names of the witnesses, who were all people he knew, said to\nthe judge of the police, smiling, \"It is well; I am satisfied;\nreturn to your seat.\" \"These old hypocrites,\" said he to himself,\nwith an air of satisfaction \"who thought fit to censure my\nactions, and find fault with my entertaining honest people,\ndeserved this punishment.\" The caliph all the time penetrated his\nthoughts, and felt inconceivable delight at his frolic.\n\nAbou Hassan, then addressing himself to the grand vizier, said,\n\"Go to the high treasurer for a purse of a thousand pieces of\ngold, and carry it to the mother of one Abou Hassan, who is known\nby the name of the debauchee; she lives in the same quarter to\nwhich I sent the judge of the police. Go, and return\nimmediately.\"\n\nThe grand vizier, after laying his hand upon his head, and\nprostrating himself before the throne, went to the high\ntreasurer, who gave him the money, which he ordered a slave to\ntake, and to follow him to Abou Hassan's mother, to whom he gave\nit, saying only, \"The caliph makes you this present.\" She\nreceived it with the greatest surprise imaginable.\n\nDuring the grand vizier's absence, the judge of the police made\nthe usual report of his office, which lasted till the vizier\nreturned. As soon as he came into the council-chamber, and had\nassured Abou Hassan that he had executed his orders, Mesrour, the\nchief of the eunuchs, made a sign to the viziers, the emirs, and\nother officers, that the council was over, and that they might\nall retire; which they did, by making the same prostration at the\nfoot of the throne as when they entered.\n\nAbou Hassan descended from the caliph's throne, and Mesrour went\nbefore him, to shew him the way into an inner apartment, where\nthere was a table spread; several eunuchs ran to tell the\nmusicians that the sham caliph was coming, when they immediately\nbegan a concert of vocal and instrumental music, with which Abou\nHassan was so charmed and transported, that he could not tell\nwhat to think of all he saw and heard. \"If this is a dream,\" said\nhe, \"it is a long one. But certainly,\" continued he, \"it is no\ndream; for I can see and feel, walk and hear, and argue\nreasonably; whatever it is, I trust in God; I cannot but believe\nthat I am the commander of the faithful, for no other person\ncould live in this splendour. The honour and respect that has\nbeen strewn me, and the obedience paid to my commands, are\nsufficient proofs of my exaltation.\"\n\nIn short, Abou Hassan took it for granted that he was the\ncommander of the faithful; but was still more convinced of it\nwhen he entered a magnificent and spacious hall, which was finely\npainted with the brightest colours intermixed with gold. Seven\nbands of female musicians, more beautiful than the others, were\nplaced round the hall, and as many gold chandeliers hung from the\nceiling, which was painted with blue and gold, intermixed with\nwonderful effect. In the middle of the hall was spread a table\ncovered with massive gold plates and dishes, which scented the\napartment with the spices and amber wherewith the meat was\nseasoned; and seven young and most beautiful ladies, dressed in\nthe richest habits of the most vivid colours, stood round this\ntable, each with a fan in her hand, to fan Abou Hassan when at\ndinner.\n\nIf ever mortal was charmed, Abou Hassan was when he entered this\nstately hall. At every step he took, he could not help stopping\nto contemplate at leisure all the wonders that regaled his eyes,\nand turned first to one side, and then to the other; which gave\nthe caliph, who viewed him with attention, very great pleasure.\nAt last he sat down at the table, and presently all the ladies\nbegan to fan the new caliph. He looked first at one, then at\nanother, and admired the grace with which they acquitted\nthemselves. He told them with a smile, that he believed one of\nthem was enough to give him all the air he wanted, and would have\nsix of the ladies sit at table with him, three on his right hand,\nand three on his left; and he placed them so, that as the table\nwas round, which way soever he turned, his eyes might be saluted\nwith agreeable objects.\n\nThe six ladies obeyed; and Abou Hassan taking notice, that out of\nrespect they did not eat, helped them himself, and invited them\nto eat in the most pressing and obliging terms. Afterwards he\nasked their names, which they told him were Alabaster Neck, Coral\nLips, Moon Face, Sunshine, Eye's Delight, Heart's Delight, and\nshe who fanned him was Sugar Cane. The many soft things he said\nupon their names shewed him to be a man of sprightly wit, and it\nis not to be conceived how much it increased the esteem which the\ncaliph (who saw every thing) had already conceived for him.\n\nWhen the ladies observed that Abou Hassan had done eating, one of\nthem said to the eunuchs who waited, \"The commander of the\nfaithful will go into the hall where the dessert is laid; bring\nsome water;\" upon which they all rose from the table, and taking\nfrom the eunuch, one a gold basin, another an ewer of the same\nmetal, and a third a towel, kneeled before Abou Hassan, and\npresented them to him to wash his hands. As soon as he had done,\nhe got up, and after an eunuch had opened the door, went,\npreceded by Mesrour, who never left him, into another hall, as\nlarge as the former, adorned with paintings by the best masters,\nand furnished with gold and silver vessels, carpets, and other\nrich furniture. There seven different bands of music began a\nconcert as soon as Abou Hassan appeared. In this hall there were\nseven large lustres, a table in the middle covered with dried\nsweetmeats, the choicest and most exquisite fruits of the season,\nraised in pyramids, in seven gold basins; and seven ladies more\nbeautiful than the others standing round it, each with a fan in\nher hand.\n\nThese new objects raised still greater admiration in Abou Hassan;\nwho, after he had made a full stop, and given the most sensible\nmarks of surprise and astonishment, went directly to the table,\nwhere sitting down, he gazed a considerable time at the seven\nladies, with an embarrassment that plainly shewed he knew not to\nwhich to give the preference. At last he ordered them all to lay\naside their fans and sit down, and eat with him, telling them\nthat it was not so hot, but he could spare them that trouble.\n\nWhen the ladies were all placed about him, the first thing he did\nwas to ask their names, which were different from the other\nseven, and expressed some perfection of mind or body, which\ndistinguished them from one another: upon which he took an\nopportunity, when he presented them with fruit, &c., to say\nsomething gallant. \"Eat this fig for my sake,\" said he to Chain\nof Hearts, who sat on his right hand; \"and render the fetters,\nwith which you loaded me the first moment I saw you, more\nsupportable.\" Then, presenting a bunch of grapes to Soul's\nTorment, \"Take this cluster of grapes,\" said he, \"on condition\nyou instantly abate the torments which I suffer for your sake;\"\nand so on to the rest. By these sallies Abou Hassan more and more\namused the caliph, who was delighted with his words and actions,\nand pleased to think he had found in him a man who diverted him\nso agreeably.\n\nAfter Abou Hassan had tasted all the fruits in the basin, he got\nup and followed Mesrour into a third hall, much more\nmagnificently furnished than the other two; where he was received\nby the same number of musicians and ladies, who stood round a\ntable covered with all manner of wet sweetmeats. After he had\nlooked about him with new wonder, he advanced to the table, the\nmusic playing all the time till he sat down. The seven ladies, by\nhis order, sat down with him, helped themselves, as he desired,\nto what they liked best; and he afterwards informed himself of\ntheir names, which pleased him as much as the others had done,\nand led him to say as many soft things to them, to the great\ndiversion of the caliph, who lost not a word.\n\nBy this time the day beginning to close, Abou Hassan was\nconducted into a fourth hall, much more superb and magnificently\nfurnished, lighted with wax in seven gold lustres, which gave a\nsplendid light. Abou Hassan found the same number of musicians\nhere as he had done in the three other halls, performing in\nconcert in the most agreeable manner, and seeming to inspire\ngreater joy; and he saw as many ladies standing round a table\ncovered with seven gold basins filled with cakes, dried\nsweetmeats, and all such relishes as were calculated to promote\ndrinking. There he saw, which he had not observed in any of the\nother halls, a sideboard set out with seven large silver flagons\nfull of the choicest wines, and by them seven crystal glasses of\nthe finest workmanship.\n\nHitherto, in the three first halls, Abou Hassan had drunk nothing\nbut water, according to the custom observed at Bagdad, from the\nhighest to the lowest and at the caliph's court, never to drink\nwine till the evening; all who transgress this rule being\naccounted debauchees, who dare not shew themselves in the day-\ntime. This custom is the more laudable, as it requires a clear\nhead to apply to business in the course of the day; and as no\nwine is drunk till evening, no drunken people are seen in the\nstreets in open day creating disturbance in the city.\n\nAs soon as Abou Hassan entered the fourth hall, he went to the\ntable, sat down, and was a long time in a kind of ecstasy at the\nsight of the seven ladies who surrounded him, and were much more\nbeautiful than any he had beheld in the other halls. He was very\ndesirous to know their names; but as the music played so loud,\nand particularly the tambour, that he could not hear them speak,\nhe clapped his hands for the musicians to cease, when a profound\nsilence ensued. Taking by the hand the lady who stood on the\nright next to him, he made her sit down by him, and presenting\nher with a cake, asked her name. \"Commander of the faithful,\"\nsaid the lady, \"I am called Cluster of Pearls.\" \"No name,\"\nreplied Abou Hassan, \"could have more properly expressed your\nworth; and indeed your teeth exceed the finest pearls. Cluster of\nPearls,\" added he, \"since that is your name, oblige me with a\nglass of wine from your fair hand.\" The lady went to the\nsideboard and brought him a glass of wine, which she presented to\nhim with a pleasant air. Abou Hassan took the glass with a smile,\nand looking passionately at her, said, \"Cluster of Pearls, I\ndrink your health; I desire you to fill out as much for yourself,\nand pledge me.\" She ran to the sideboard, and returned with a\nglass in her hand; but before she drank, she sung a song, which\ncharmed him as much by the sweetness of her voice as by its\nnovelty.\n\nAfter Abou Hassan had drunk, he made another lady sit down by\nhim, and presenting her with what she chose in the basins, asked\nher name, which she told him was Morning Star. \"Your bright\neyes,\" said he, \"shine with greater lustre than that star whose\nname you bear. Do me the pleasure to bring me some wine,\" which\nshe did with the best grace in the world. Then turning to the\nthird lady, whose name was Day-light, he ordered her to do the\nsame, and so on to the seventh, to the extreme satisfaction of\nthe caliph.\n\nWhen they had all filled him a glass round, Cluster of Pearls,\nwhom he had just addressed, went to the sideboard, poured out a\nglass of wine, and putting in a pinch of the same powder the\ncaliph had used the night before, presented it to Abou Hassan;\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" said she, \"Il beg of your majesty to\ntake this glass of wine, and before you drink it, do me the\nfavour to hear a song I have composed to-day, and which I flatter\nmyself will not displease you. I never sung it before.\" \"With all\nmy heart,\" said Abou Hassan, taking the glass, \"and, as commander\nof the faithful, I command you to sing it; for I am persuaded\nthat so beautiful a lady cannot compose a song which does not\nabound with wit and pleasantry.\" The lady took a lute, and tuning\nit to her voice, sung with so much justness, grace, and\nexpression, that Abou Hassan was in perfect ecstasy all the time,\nand was so much delighted, that he ordered her to sing it again,\nand was as much charmed with it as at first.\n\nWhen the lady had concluded, Abou Hassan drank off his glass, and\nturned his head towards her to give her those praises which he\nthought she merited, but was prevented by the opiate, which\noperated so suddenly, that his mouth was instantly wide open, and\nhis eyes close shut, and dropping his head on the cushions, he\nslept as profoundly as the day before when the caliph had given\nhim the powder. One of the ladies stood ready to catch the glass,\nwhich fell out of his hand; and then the caliph, who enjoyed\ngreater satisfaction in this scene than he had promised himself,\nand was all along a spectator of what had passed, came into the\nhall to them, overjoyed at the success of his plan. He ordered\nAbou Hassan to be dressed in his own clothes, and carried back to\nhis house by the slave who had brought him, charging him to lay\nhim on a sofa in the same room, without making any noise, and to\nleave the door open when he came away.\n\nThe slave took Abou Hassan upon his shoulders, carried him home\nby a back door of the palace, placed him in his own house as he\nwas ordered, and returned with speed, to acquaint the caliph.\n\"Well,\" said the caliph, \"Abou Hassan wished only to be caliph\nfor one day, to punish the imaum of the mosque of his quarter,\nand the four old men who had displeased him: I have procured him\nthe means of doing this, and he ought to be content.\"\n\nIn the mean time, Abou Hassan, who was laid upon his sofa by the\nslave, slept till very late the next morning. When the powder was\nworked off, he awoke, opened his eyes, and finding himself at\nhome, was in the utmost surprise. \"Cluster of Pearls! Morning\nStar! Coral Lips! Moon Face!\" cried he, calling the ladies of the\npalace by their names, as he remembered them; \"where are you?\ncome hither.\"\n\nAbou Hassan called so loud, that his mother, who was in her own\napartment, heard him, and running to him upon the noise he made,\nsaid \"What ails you, son? what has happened to you?\" At these\nwords Abou Hassan lifted up his head, and looking haughtily at\nhis mother, said, \"Good woman! who is it you call son?\" \"Why\nyou,\" answered his mother very mildly; \"are not you Abou Hassan\nmy son? It is strange that you have forgotten yourself so soon.\"\n\"I your son! old bull!\" replied Abou Hassan; \"you are a liar, and\nknow not what you say! I am not Abou Hassan, I tell you, but the\ncommander of the faithful!\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue, son,\" answered the mother \"one would think you\nare a fool, to hear you talk thus.\" \"You are an old fool\nyourself,\" replied Abou Hassan; \"I tell you once more I am the\ncommander of the faithful, and God's vicar on earth!\" \"Ah!\nchild,\" cried the mother, \"is it possible that I should hear you\nutter such words that shew you are distracted! What evil genius\npossesses you, to make you talk at this rate? God bless you, and\npreserve you from the power of Satan. You are my son Abou Hassan,\nand I am your mother.\"\n\nAfter she had used all the arguments she could think of to bring\nhim to himself, and to shew how great an error he was in, she\nsaid, \"Do not you see that the room you are now in is your own,\nand is not like a chamber in a palace fit for the commander of\nthe believers? and that you have never left it since you were\nborn, but lived quietly at home with me. Think seriously of what\nI say, and do not fancy things that are not, nor ever can be.\nOnce more, my son, think seriously of it.\"\n\nAbou Hassan heard all these remonstrances of his mother very\npatiently, holding down his eyes, and clapping his hands under\nhis chin, like a man recollecting himself, to examine the truth\nof what he saw and heard. At last, he said to his mother, just as\nif he was awaking out of a deep sleep, and with his hand in the\nsame posture, \"I believe you are right, methinks I am Abou\nHassan, you are my mother, and I am in my own room.\" Then looking\nat her again, and at every object before him, he added, \"I am\nAbou Hassan, there is no doubt of it, and I cannot comprehend how\nthis fancy came into my head.\"\n\nThe mother really believed that her son was cured of the disorder\nof his mind, which she ascribed to a dream, began to laugh with\nhim, and ask him questions about it; when suddenly he started up,\nand looking crossly at his mother, said, \"Old sorceress, you know\nnot what you say. I am not your son, nor you my mother. You\ndeceive yourself and would deceive me. I tell you I am the\ncommander of the faithful, and you shall never persuade me to the\ncontrary!\" \"For heaven's sake, son,\" said the mother, \"let us\nleave off this discourse; recommend yourself to God, for fear\nsome misfortune should happen to us; let us talk of something\nelse. I will tell you what happened yesterday in our quarter to\nthe imaum of the mosque, and the four scheiks our neighbours: the\njudge of the police came and seized them, and gave each of them I\nknow not how many strokes with a bastinado, while a crier\nproclaimed, \u0091That such was the punishment of all those who\ntroubled themselves about other people's business, and employed\nthemselves in setting their neighbours at variance:' he\nafterwards led them through all the streets, and ordered them\nnever to come into our quarter again.\" Abou Hassan's mother\nlittle thought her son had any share in this adventure, and\ntherefore had turned the discourse on purpose to put him out of\nthe conceit of being the commander of the faithful; but instead\nof effacing that idea, she recalled it, and impressed the more\ndeeply in his mind, that it was not imaginary but real.\n\nAbou Hassan no sooner heard this relation, but he cried out, \"I\nam neither thy son, nor Abou Hassan, but certainly the commander\nof the believers. I cannot doubt after what you have told me.\nKnow then that it was by my order the imaum and the four scheiks\nwere punished, and I tell you I am certainly the commander of the\nfaithful: therefore say no more of its being a dream. I was not\nasleep, but as much awake as I am now. You do me much pleasure to\nconfirm what the judge of the police told me he had executed\npunctually according to my order; I am overjoyed that the imaum\nand the four scheiks, those great hypocrites, were so chastised,\nand I should be glad to know how I came here. God be praised for\nall things! I am certainly commander of the faithful, and all thy\narguments shall not convince me of the contrary.\"\n\nThe mother, who could not imagine why her son so strenuously and\npositively maintained himself to be caliph, no longer doubted but\nthat he had lost his senses, when she found he insisted so much\non a thing that was so incredible; and in this thought said, \"I\npray God, son, to have mercy upon you! Pray do not talk so madly.\nBeseech God to forgive you, and give you grace to talk more\nreasonably. What would the world say to hear you rave in this\nmanner? Do you not know that \u0091walls have ears?'\"\n\nThese remonstrances only enraged Abou Hassan the more; and he was\nso provoked at his mother, that he said, \"Old woman, I have\ndesired you once already to hold your tongue. If you do not, I\nshall rise and give you cause to repent all your lifetime. I am\nthe caliph and the commander of the believers; and you ought to\ncredit me when I say so.\"\n\nThe good woman supposing that he was more distracted than ever,\nabandoned herself to tears, and beating her face and breast,\nexpressed the utmost grief and astonishment to see her son in\nsuch a state. Abou Hassan, instead of being appeased or moved by\nhis mother's tears, lost all the respect due from a son to his\nmother. Getting up hastily, and laying hold of a switch, he ran\nto his mother in great fury, and in a threatening manner that\nwould have frightened any one but a mother so partial to him,\nsaid, \"Tell me directly, wicked woman, who I am.\" \"I do not\nbelieve, son,\" replied she, looking at him tenderly, and without\nfear, \"that you are so abandoned by God as not to know your\nmother, who brought you into the world, and to mistake yourself.\nYou are indeed my son Abou Hassan, and are much in the wrong to\narrogate to yourself the title which belongs only to our\nsovereign lord the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, especially after the\nnoble and generous present the monarch made us yesterday. I\nforgot to tell you, that the grand vizier Jaaffier came to me\nyesterday, and putting a purse of a thousand pieces of gold into\nmy hands, bade me pray for the commander of the faithful, who had\nsent me that present; and does not this liberality concern you\nmore than me, who have but a short time to live?\"\n\nAt these words Abou Hassan grew quite mad. The circumstance of\nthe caliph's liberality persuaded him more than ever that he was\ncaliph, remembering that he had sent the vizier. \"Well, old hag,\"\ncried he, \"will you be convinced when I tell you that I sent you\nthose thousand pieces of gold by my grand vizier Jaaffier, who\nobeyed my commands, as I was commander of the faithful? But\ninstead of believing me, you endeavour to distract me by your\ncontradictions, and maintain with obstinacy that I am your son;\nbut you shall not go long unpunished.\" After these words, he was\nso unnatural, in the height of his frenzy, as to beat her cruelly\nwith his cane.\n\nThe poor mother, who could not have thought that her son would\nhave come so soon from words to blows, called out for help so\nloud, that the neighbours ran in to her assistance. Abou Hassan\ncontinued to beat her, at every stroke asking her if he was the\ncommander of the faithful? to which she always answered tenderly,\nthat he was her son.\n\nBy the time the neighbours came in Abou Hassan's rage began to\nabate. The first who entered the room got between him and his\nmother, and taking the switch out of his hand, said to him, \"What\nare you doing, Abou Hassan? have you lost all fear of God and\nyour reason? Did ever a son so well brought up as you dare to\nstrike his mother? are you not ashamed so to treat yours, who\nloves you so tenderly?\" Abou Hassan, still full of fury, looked\nat him who spoke without returning an answer; and then staring on\nall the rest of his neighbours who had followed, said, \"Who is\nthat Abou Hassan you speak of? Is it me you call by that name?\"\n\nThis question disconcerted the neighbours. \"How!\" said he who\nspoke first, \"do not you know your mother who brought you up, and\nwith whom you have always lived?\" \"Be gone, you are impertinent\nvagabonds,\" replied Abou Hassan; \"I neither knew her nor you, and\nwill not know her. I am not Abou Hassan; I am the commander of\nthe faithful, and will make you feel it to your cost.\"\n\nAt this speech the neighbours no longer doubted that he was mad:\nand to prevent his repeating his outrages, seized him,\nnotwithstanding his resistance, and bound him hand and foot, But\nthough apparently disabled from doing any mischief, they did not\nchoose to leave him alone with his mother. Two of them ran for\nthe keeper of the hospital for insane persons, who came presently\nwith chains, handcuffs, a bastinado, and many attendants. When\nthey entered the room, Abou Hassan, who little expected such\ntreatment, struggled to unloose himself; but after his keeper had\ngiven him two or three smart strokes upon the shoulders, he lay\nso quiet, that the keeper and his people did what they pleased\nwith him. As soon as they had bound and manacled him, they took\nhim with them to the hospital. When he was got out of the house\ninto the street, the people crowded round him, one buffeted him,\nanother boxed him, and others called him fool and madman. To all\nthis treatment he replied, \"There is no greatness and power but\nin God most high and almighty. I am treated as a fool, though I\nam in my right senses. I suffer all these injuries and\nindignities for the love of God.\" He was conducted to the\nhospital, where he was lodged in a grated cell; but before he was\nshut up, the keeper, who was hardened to such terrible execution,\nregaled him without pity with fifty strokes of the bastinado on\nhis shoulders, which he repeated every day for three weeks,\nbidding him remember that he was not the commander of the\nfaithful. \"I am not mad,\" said Abou Hassan, \"but if I wanted your\nassistance, nothing would so effectually make me mad as your\ncruel treatment. I want not your advice.\"\n\nAbou Hassan's mother went every day to visit her son, and could\nnot forbear weeping at beholding him fall away, and sigh and\ncomplain at the hardships he endured. In short, his shoulders,\nback, and sides were so black and bruised, that he could not turn\nhimself. His mother would willingly have talked with him, to\ncomfort him, and to sound him whether he still retained the\nnotion of being caliph; but whenever she opened her mouth, he\nstopped her with so much fury, that she was forced to leave him,\nand return home inconsolable at his obstinacy.\n\nBy degrees, however, those strong and lively ideas, which Abou\nHassan had entertained, of having been clothed in the caliph's\nhabit, having exercised his authority, and been punctually obeyed\nand treated like the true caliph, the assurance of which had\npersuaded him that he was so, began to wear away. Sometimes he\nwould say to himself, \"If I was the caliph and commander of the\nbelievers, how came I, when I awoke, to find myself at home\ndressed in my own apparel? Why should I not have been attended by\neunuchs, and their chief, and a crowd of beautiful ladies? Why\nshould the grand vizier, and all those emirs and governors of\nprovinces, who prostrated themselves at my feet, forsake me?\nUndoubtedly if I had any authority over them, they would have\ndelivered me long ago out of the miserable condition I am in;\ncertainly I ought to look upon all as a dream. It is true,\nhowever, that I commanded the judge of the police to punish the\nimaum, and the four old men his companions; I ordered the grand\nvizier to carry my mother a thousand pieces of gold; and my\ncommands were executed. All these points are obstacles to my\nbelieving it a dream; but there are so many things that I cannot\ncomprehend, nor ever shall, that I will put my trust in God, who\nknows all things.\"\n\nAbou Hassan was taken up with these thoughts and reflections when\nhis mother came to see him. She found him so much altered and\nemaciated that she shed a torrent of tears; in the midst of which\nshe saluted him as she used to do, and he returned her\nsalutation, which he had never done before since he had been in\nthe hospital. This she looked upon to be a good sign. \"Well, my\nson,\" said she, wiping her tears, \"how do you do, and how do you\nfind yourself? Have you renounced all those whims and fancies\nwhich the devil had put into your head?\" \"Indeed, mother,\"\nreplied Abou Hassan, very rationally and calmly, and in a tone\nexpressive of his grief for the excesses he had been transported\nto against her, \"I acknowledge my error, and beg of you to\nforgive the execrable crime which I have been guilty of towards\nyou, and which I detest. I ask pardon also of my neighbours whom\nI have abused. I have been deceived by a dream; but by so\nextraordinary a one, and so like to truth, that I venture to\naffirm any other person, to whom such a thing might have\nhappened, would have been guilty of as great or greater\nextravagancies; and I am this instant so much perplexed about it,\nthat while I am speaking I can hardly persuade myself but that\nwhat befell me was matter of fact, so like was it to what happens\nto people who are broad awake. But whatever it was, I do, and\nshall always regard it as a dream and an illusion. I am convinced\nthat I am not that shadow of a caliph and commander of the\nfaithful, but Abou Hassan your son, the son of a person whom I\nalways honoured till that fatal day, the remembrance of which\nwill cover me with confusion, and whom in future I shall honour\nand respect all my life as I ought.\"\n\nAt this rational declaration, the tears of sorrow and affliction\nwhich the mother of Abou Hassan had so long shed were changed\ninto those of joy. \"My son!\" cried she, transported with\npleasure, \"my satisfaction and comfort to hear you talk so\nreasonably is inexpressible: and it gives me as much joy as if I\nhad brought you into the world a second time; but I must tell you\nmy opinion of this adventure, and observe one thing which you may\nnot have noticed; the stranger whom you brought home the evening\nbefore your illness to sup with you went away without shutting\nyour chamber-door after him, as you desired; which I believe gave\nthe devil an opportunity to enter, and throw you into the\nhorrible illusion you have been in: therefore, my son, you ought\nto return God thanks for your deliverance, and beseech him to\nkeep you from falling again into the snares of the evil spirit.\"\n\n\"You have found out the source of our misfortunes,\" answered Abou\nHassan. \"It was that very night I had this dream which turned my\nbrain. I bade the merchant expressly to shut the door after him;\nand now I find he did not do it. I am persuaded, as well as you,\nthe devil finding it open came in, and filled my head full of\nthese fancies. The people of Moussul, from whence this merchant\ncame, may not know how we at Bagdad are convinced from experience\nthat the devil is the cause of troublesome dreams when we leave\nour chamber-doors open. But since, mother, you see I am, by the\ngrace of God, so well recovered, for God's sake get me out of\nthis horrible place, which will infallibly shorten my days if I\nstay here any longer.\" The mother, glad to hear her son was so\nwell cured of his foolish imagination of being caliph, went\nimmediately to the keeper, and assuring him that he was very\nsensible and well, he came, examined, and released him in her\npresence.\n\nWhen Abou Hassan came home, he stayed within doors some days to\nrecover his health by better living than he had found at the\nhospital. But when he had recovered his strength, and felt no\nlonger the effect of the harsh treatment he had suffered in his\nconfinement, he began to be weary of spending his evenings alone.\nHe accordingly entered again upon the same plan as he had before\npursued; which was, to provide enough every day to regale a\nstranger at night.\n\nThe day on which Abou Hassan renewed his custom of going about\nsun-set to the end of Bagdad bridge to stop the first stranger\nthee offered, and invite him to do him the honour of supping with\nhim, happened to be the first day of the month, that which the\ncaliph always set apart to go in disguise out of some one of the\ngates to observe what was committed contrary to the good\ngovernment of the city, as established and regulated at the\nbeginning of his reign. Abou Hassan had not been long arrived at\nthe bridge, when, looking about him, he perceived the Moussul\nmerchant, followed by the same slave. Persuaded that all his\nmisfortunes were owing to the merchant's having left his door\nopen, he shuddered at the sight of him. \"God preserve me,\" said\nhe to himself; \"if I am not deceived, there is again the magician\nwho enchanted me!\" He trembled with agitation, and looked over\nthe side railing into the river, that he might not see him till\nhe was past.\n\nThe caliph, who wished to renew the diversion he had received,\nhad taken care to inform himself of all that had happened to Abou\nHassan, and enjoyed much pleasure at the relation given him,\nespecially at his being sent to a mad-house. But as this monarch\nwas both just and generous, and had taken a great liking to Abou\nHassan, as capable of contributing further to his amusement, and\nhad doubted whether, after renouncing his frenzied character of a\ncaliph, he would return to his usual manner of living; with a\nview therefore to bring him to his palace, he disguised himself\nagain like a merchant of Moussul, the better to execute his plan.\nHe perceived Abou Hassan at the same time that he saw him, and\npresently guessed by his action that he was angry, and wished to\nshun him. This made him walk close to the side railing; and when\nhe came nigh him, he put his head over to look him in the face.\n\"Ho, brother Abou Hassan,\" said he, \"is it you? I greet you! Give\nme leave to embrace you?\"\n\n\"Not I,\" replied Abou Hassan, pettishly, without looking at the\npretended Moussul merchant; \"I do not greet you; I will have\nneither your greeting nor your embraces. Go along!\"\n\n\"What!\" answered the caliph, \"do you not know me? Do you not\nremember the evening we spent together at your house this day\nmonth, where you did me the honour to treat me very generously?\"\n\"No,\" replied Abou Hassan in the same tone, \"I do not know you,\nnor what you talk about; go, I say again, about your business.\"\n\nThe caliph was not to be diverted from his purpose by this rude\nbehaviour. He well knew the law Abou Hassan had imposed on\nhimself, never to have commerce again with a stranger he had once\nentertained; but pretended to be ignorant of it. \"I cannot\nbelieve,\" said he, \"but you must know me again; it is not\npossible that you should have forgotten me in so short a time.\nCertainly some misfortune has befallen you, which inspires you\nwith this aversion for me. However, you ought to remember, that I\nshewed my gratitude by my good wishes, and that I offered you my\ninterest, which is not to be slighted, in an affair which you had\nmuch at heart.\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"what your interest may be,\nand I have no desire to make use of it: but I am sensible the\nutmost of your good wishes ended in making me mad. In God's name,\nI say once more, go your way, and trouble me no more.\"\n\n\"Ah! brother Abou Hassan,\" replied the caliph, embracing him, \"I\ndo not intend to part with you thus, since I have had the good\nfortune to meet with you a second time; you must exercise the\nsame hospitality towards me again that you shewed me a month ago,\nwhen I had the honour to drink with you.\"\n\n\"I have protested against this,\" said Abou Hassan, \"and have so\nmuch power over myself, as to decline receiving a second time as\nmy guest, a man like you who carries misfortunes with him. You\nknow the proverb, \u0091Take up your drum and begone.' Make the\napplication to yourself. How often must I repeat my refusal. God\nbe with you! You have been the cause of my sufferings, and I will\nnot trust myself with you again.\" \"My good friend Abou Hassan,\"\nsaid the caliph, embracing him, \"you treat me in a way I little\nexpected. I beg of you not to speak to me thus harshly, but be\npersuaded of my friendship. Do me the favour to tell me what has\nhappened to you; for I assure you I wished you well, and still do\nso; and would be glad of an opportunity to make you any amends\nfor the trouble I have caused you, if it has been really my\nfault.\" Abou Hassan yielded to the solicitations of the caliph.\n\"Your incredulity and importunity,\" said he, \"have tired my\npatience; and what I am going to relate will shew you that I do\nnot accuse you wrongfully.\"\n\nThe caliph seated himself by Abou Hassan, while he told him all\nthat had happened to him, from his waking in the palace to his\nwaking again in his own house, all which he described as a mere\ndream, and recounted all the circumstances, which the caliph knew\nas well as himself, and which renewed his pleasure. He enlarged\nafterwards on the impression which the dream of being caliph and\ncommander of the faithful had made upon him, which, he said,\nthrew him into such extravagancies, that his neighbours were\nobliged to carry him to a mad-house, where he was treated in a\nmanner which he deemed most barbarous and inhuman. \"But,\" said\nhe, \"what will surprise you, and what you little think of, is,\nthat it was altogether your fault that these things happened to\nme; for, if you remember, I desired you to shut the door after\nyou, which you neglected, and the devil, finding it open, entered\nand put this dream into my head, which, though it was very\nagreeable, was the cause of the misfortune I complain of: you\ntherefore, for your negligence, are answerable for the horrid and\ndetestable crime I have committed in lifting my hand against my\nmother, whom I might have killed (I blush for shame when I think\nof it), because she said I was her son, and would not acknowledge\nme for commander of the faithful, as I thought and positively\ninsisted on to her that I was. You are the cause of the offence I\nhave given my neighbours, when, running in at the cries of my\npoor mother, they surprised me in the horrid act of felling her\nat my feet; which would never have happened, if you had taken\ncare to shut my door when you went away, as I desired you. They\nwould not have come into my house without my leave; and, what\ntroubles me most of all, they would not have been witnesses of my\nfolly. I should not have been obliged to strike them in my own\ndefence, and they would not have bound and fettered me, to carry\nand shut me up in the hospital for madmen, where I assure you\nevery day that I remained confined in that hell, I received a\nscore of strokes with a bastinado.\" Abou Hassan recounted his\ncomplaints with great warmth and vehemence to the caliph, who\nknew as well as himself what had passed, and was delighted to\nfind that he had succeeded so well in his plan to throw him into\nthe vagaries from which he still was not entirely free. He could\nnot help laughing at the simplicity wherewith he related them.\n\nAbou Hassan, who thought that his story should rather have moved\ncompassion, and that every one ought to be as much concerned at\nit as himself, warmly resented the pretended Moussul merchant's\nlaughter. \"What!\" said he, \"do you make a jest of me and laugh in\nmy face, or do you believe I laugh at you when I speak seriously?\nIf you want proof of what I advance, look yourself and see\nwhether or no I tell you the truth ;\" with that, stooping down\nand baring his shoulders, he shewed the caliph the scars and\nweals which the bastinado had left.\n\nThe caliph could not behold these marks of cruelty without\nhorror. He pitied Abou Hassan, and felt sorry he had carried the\njest so far. \"Come, rise, dear brother,\" said he to him eagerly,\nand embracing Abou Hassan heartily in his arms; \"let me go to\nyour house, and enjoy the happiness of being merry with you to-\nnight; and to-morrow, if it please God, all things will go well.\"\n\nAbou Hassan, notwithstanding his resolution never to admit the\nsame stranger a second time, could not resist the caresses of the\ncaliph, whom he still took for a merchant of Moussul. \"I will\nconsent,\" said he, \"if you will swear to shut my door after you,\nthat the devil may not come in to distract my brain again.\" The\ncaliph promised that he would; upon which they both arose, walked\ntowards the city, and, followed by the caliph's slave, reached\nAbou Hassan's house by the time it was dark.\n\nThe caliph, the more to blind Abou Hassan, said to him, \"Place\nconfidence in me; I promise you on my honour I will not break my\nword. You need not hesitate to trust a person who wishes you all\nhappiness and prosperity, of which confidence you will see the\neffects.\" \"I desire not that,\" said Abou Hassan, stopping him\nshort. \"I yield to your importunity; but I dispense with your\ngood wishes, and beg you in God's name to form none for me. All\nthe mischief that has hitherto befallen me arose from those you\nexpressed for me, and from your leaving the door open.\" \"Well,\"\nreplied the caliph, still laughing at the misguided imagination\nof Abou Hassan, \"since you will have it so, I promise you I will\nform none.\" \"You give me pleasure by speaking so,\" said Abou\nHassan; \"I desire no more; I shall be more than satisfied\nprovided you keep your word, and I shall forgive you all the\nrest.\"\n\nAs soon as Abou Hassan entered his house, he called for his\nmother and for candles, desired his guest to sit down upon a\nsofa, and then placed himself by him. A little time after, supper\nwas brought up, and they both began to eat without ceremony. When\nthey had done, Abou Hassan's mother cleared the table, set on a\nsmall dessert of fruit, wine, and glasses by her son, then\nwithdrew, and appeared no more. Abou Hassan first filled out his\nown glass, and then the caliph's: and after they had drunk some\ntime, and talked of indifferent matters, the caliph, perceiving\nthat his host grew warm with liquor, began to talk of love, and\nasked him if he had ever felt that passion.\n\n\"Brother,\" replied Abou Hassan, familiarly thinking his guest was\nhis equal, \"I never looked upon love or marriage but as a\nslavery, to which I was always unwilling to submit; and must own\nto you, that I never loved any thing but good cheer and good\nwine; in short, to divert and entertain myself agreeably with my\nfriends. Yet I do not tell you that I am indifferent to marriage,\nor incapable of attachment, if I could meet with a woman of such\nbeauty and sweetness of temper as her I saw in my dream that\nfatal night in which I first received you into my house, and you,\nto my misfortune, left my door open, who would pass the whole\nnight with me drinking, singing, and playing on some instrument,\nand in agreeable conversation, and who would study to please and\ndivert me: I believe, on the contrary, I should change all my\nindifference into a perfect attachment to such a person, and, I\nthink, should live very happily with her. But where is such a\nwoman to be found except in the caliph's palace, or in those of\nthe grand vizier or some great lords of the court, who want not\nmoney to provide them? I choose therefore to stick to my bottle,\nwhich is a much cheaper pleasure, and which I can enjoy as well\nas the greatest.\" Saying these words, he filled out his own and\nthe caliph's glass, and said, \"Come, take your glass, and let us\npursue this charming pleasure.\"\n\nWhen they had drunk off their wine, \"It is great pity,\" said the\ncaliph, \"that so gallant a man as you, who owns himself not\ninsensible of love, should lead so solitary a life.\" \"I prefer\nthe easy quiet life I live,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"before the\ncompany of a wife, whose beauty might not please me, and who,\nbesides, might create me a great deal of trouble by her\nimperfections and ill-humour.\" The conversation lasted a long\ntime, and the caliph seeing Abou Hassan had drunk to the pitch he\ndesired, said, \"Let me alone, since you have the same good taste\nas every other honest man, I warrant you I will find you a wife\nthat shall please you.\" Then taking Abou Hassan's glass, and\nputting a pinch of the same powder into it, filled him up a\nbumper, and presenting it to him, said, \"Come, let us drink\nbeforehand the fair lady's health, who is to make you happy. I am\nsure you will like her.\"\n\nAbou Hassan took the glass laughing, and shaking his head, said,\n\"Be it so; since you desire it, I cannot be guilty of so great a\npiece of incivility, nor disoblige a guest of so much merit in\nsuch a trifling matter. I will drink the health of the lady you\npromise me, though I am very well contented as I am, and do not\nrely on your keeping your word.\" No sooner had Abou Hassan drank\noff his bumper, than he was seized with as deep a sleep as\nbefore; and the caliph ordered the same slave to take him and\ncarry him to the palace. The slave obeyed, and the caliph, who\ndid not intend to send back Abou Hassan as before, shut the door\nafter him, as he had promised, and followed.\n\nWhen they arrived at the palace, the caliph ordered Abou Hassan\nto be laid on a sofa, in the fourth hall, from whence he had been\ncarried home fast asleep a month before; but first he bade the\nattendants to put him on the same habit in which he had acted the\ncaliph, which was done. He then charged all the eunuchs,\nofficers, ladies, and musicians who were in the hall, when he\ndrank the last glass of wine which had put him to sleep, to be\nthere by daybreak, and to take care to act their parts well when\nhe should awake. He then retired to rest, charging Mesrour to\nawake him before they went into the hall, that he might conceal\nhimself in the closet as before.\n\nMesrour, at the hour appointed, awakened the caliph, who\nimmediately rose, and went to the hall where Abou Hassan lay\nstill asleep, and when he had placed himself in his closet,\nMesrour and the other officers, ladies, and musicians, who waited\nfor him, went in, and placed themselves about the sofa, so as not\nto hinder the caliph from seeing what passed, and noticing all\nhis actions.\n\nThings being thus disposed, and the caliph's powder having had\nits effect, Abou Hassan began to awake without opening his eyes,\nand threw off the phlegm, which was received in a gold basin as\nbefore. At that instant, the seven bands of singers joined their\nvoices to the sound of hautboys, fifes, flutes, and other\ninstruments, forming a very agreeable concert. Abou Hassan was in\ngreat surprise to hear the delightful harmony; but when he opened\nhis eyes, and saw the ladies and officers about him, whom he\nthought he recognized, his amazement increased. The hall that he\nwas in seemed to be the same he had seen in his first dream, and\nhe observed the same lustres, and the same furniture and\nornaments.\n\nThe concert ceased, to give the caliph an opportunity of\nattending to the countenance of his guest, and all that he might\nsay in his surprise. The ladies, Mesrour, and all the officers of\nthe chamber, waited in profound and respectful silence. Abou\nHassan bit his finger, and cried loud enough for the caliph to\nhear him, \"Alas! I am fallen again into the same dream and\nillusion that happened to me a month ago, and must expect again\nthe bastinado and grated cell at the mad-house. Almighty God,\"\nadded he, \"I commit myself into the hands of thy divine\nprovidence. He was a wicked man that I entertained at my house\nlast night, who has been the cause of this illusion, and the\nhardships I must again undergo. The base wretch swore to shut the\ndoor after him, but did not, and the devil came in and has turned\nmy brain with this wicked dream of being commander of the\nfaithful, and other phantoms which bewitch my eyes. God confound\nthee, Satan? and crush thee under some mountain of stones.\"\n\nAfter these words, Abou Hassan closed his eyes, and remained some\ntime thoughtful and much perplexed; then opening them again, and\nlooking about him, cried out a second time with less surprise,\nand smiling at the various objects before him, \"Great God! I\ncommit myself into the hands of thy providence, preserve me from\nthe temptation of Satan.\" Then shutting them again, he said, \"I\nwill go to sleep until Satan leaves me, and returns as he came,\nwere I to wait till noon.\" They did not give him time to go to\nsleep again as he promised himself; for Strength of Hearts, one\nof the ladies whom he had seen before, approached, and sitting\ndown on the sofa by him, said to him respectfully, \"Commander of\nthe faithful, I entreat your majesty to forgive me for taking the\nliberty to tell you not to go to sleep; day appears, and it is\ntime to rise.\" \"Begone, Satan!\" answered Abou Hassan, raising his\nvoice; but looking at the lady, he said, \"Is it me you call the\ncommander of the faithful? Certainly you take me for somebody\nelse.\" \"It is to your majesty I give that title,\" replied the\nlady, \"to whom it belongs, as you are sovereign of the world, and\nI am your most humble slave. Undoubtedly,\" added she, \"your\nmajesty means to divert yourself by pretending to have forgotten\nyourself, or this is the effect of some troublesome dream; but if\nyou would but open your eyes, the mists which disturb your\nimagination would soon be dispelled, and you would find yourself\nin your own palace, surrounded by your officers and slaves, who\nall wait your commands: and that your majesty may not be\nsurprised to find yourself in this hall, and not in bed, I beg\nleave to inform you, that you fell so suddenly asleep last night,\nthat we were unwilling to awake you, to conduit you to your\nchamber, but laid you carefully upon this sofa.\" In short, she\nsaid to him so many things which appeared probable, that at last\nhe sat up, opened his eyes, and recollected her and all the\nladies again. They all approached him, and she who spoke first,\nresuming the discourse, said, \"Commander of the faithful, and\nvicar of the prophet on earth, be not displeased if I acquaint\nyour majesty once more that it is time to rise, for day appears.\"\n\n\"You are very troublesome and importunate,\" replied Abou Hassan,\nrubbing his eyes; \"I am not the commander of the faithful, but\nAbou Hassan; I know it well, and you shall not persuade me\notherwise.\" \"We do not know that Abou Hassan you majesty speaks\nof, nor desire to know him,\" answered the lady; \"but we know you\nto be the commander of the believers, and you cannot persuade us\nto the contrary.\"\n\nAbou Hassan looking about, and finding himself in the same hall,\nattributed all he saw and heard to such a dream as he had had\nbefore, and greatly feared the dreadful consequences. \"Allah have\nmercy on me!\" said he, lifting up his hands and eyes, like a man\nwho knew not where he was; \"I commit myself into his hands. I\ncannot doubt, after what I have seen, but that the devil, who\ncame into my chamber, possesses me, and fills my imagination full\nof all these visions.\"\n\nThe caliph, who saw him all the time, and heard these\nexclamations, began to shake so heartily, that he had much\ndifficulty to forbear bursting into loud laughter.\n\nAbou Hassan laying himself down again, and shutting his eyes, the\nsame lady said, \"Commander of the faithful, since your majesty\ndoes not rise, after we have, according to our duty, informed you\nit is day, and the dispatch of business requires your presence,\nwe shall use the liberty you give us in such cases.\" Then taking\nhim by one arm, and calling to one of the other ladies to do the\nsame by the other, they lifted him up, and carried him into the\nmiddle of the hall, where they seated him, and all taking hands,\ndanced and skipped round him while the music played and sounded\nloudly in his ears.\n\nAbou Hassan was in inexpressible perplexity, and exclaimed,\n\"What! am I indeed caliph, and commander of the faithful!\" And in\nhis uncertainty, would have said more, but the music was so loud,\nthat he could not be heard. At last he made a sign to String of\nPearls and Morning Star, two of the ladies who were dancing, that\nhe wanted to speak with them; upon which they forbore, and went\nto him. \"Do not lie now,\" said he, \"but tell me truly who I am?\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied Morning Star, \"your majesty\nmeans either to surprise us, by asking this question, as if you\ndid not know that you are commander of the faithful, and vicar on\nearth of the prophet of God, master of both worlds, that whereon\nwe now are and that to come after death, or else you must have\nhad some extraordinary dream that has made you forget who you\nare; which may well be, considering that your majesty has slept\nlonger than ordinary; however, if you will give me leave, I will\nrefresh your memory with what passed yesterday.\" She then told\nhim how he went to council, punished the imaum, and the four old\nmen, and had sent a present by his grand vizier of a thousand\npieces of gold to the mother of one Abou Hassan; what he did in\nthe inner part of the palace, and what passed at the three meals\nwhich he took in the three halls, adding, \"In the fourth your\nmajesty did us the honour to make us sit down by you, to hear our\nsongs, and received wine from our hands, until your majesty fell\nasleep, as Strength of Hearts has told you. From that time your\nmajesty has continued, contrary to custom, in a sound sleep until\nnow. Strength of Hearts, all your other slaves, and the officers\npresent, can confirm what I say, and it is now time you should go\nto prayers.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied Abou Hassan, shaking his head, \"you would\nhave me believe all this; but I tell you, you are all fools, or\nmad, and that is great pity, for you are very handsome. Since I\nsaw you I have been at home, where I used my mother so ill that\nthey sent me to a mad-house, and kept me there three weeks\nagainst my will, beat me unmercifully every day, and yet you\nwould make me believe all this to be a dream.\" \"Commander of the\nfaithful,\" answered Morning Star, \"you are mistaken, we are ready\nto swear by all your majesty holds most dear, that all you relate\ncan be only a dream. You have never stirred out of this hall\nsince yesterday, but slept here all night.\"\n\nThe confidence with which the lady assured Abou Hassan that all\nshe said was truth, and that he had never been out of the hall\nsince that time, bewildered his senses so that he was at a loss\nwhat to believe. \"O Heaven!\" said he to himself, \"am I Abou\nHassan, or the commander of the faithful! Almighty God, enlighten\nmy understanding, and inform me of the truth, that I may know\nwhat to trust.\" He then uncovered his shoulders, and shewed the\nladies the livid weals of the blows he had received. \"Look,\" said\nhe, \"judge whether these strokes could come to me in a dream, or\nwhen I was asleep. For my part, I can affirm, that they were real\nblows; I feel the smart of them yet, and that is a testimonial\nthere is no room to doubt. Now if I received these strokes in my\nsleep, it is the most extraordinary thing in the world, and\nsurpasses my comprehension.\"\n\nIn this uncertainty Abou Hassan called to one of the officers\nthat stood near him: \"Come hither,\" said he, \"and bite the tip of\nmy ear, that I may know whether I am asleep or awake.\" The\nofficer obeyed, and bit so hard, that he made him cry out loudly\nwith the pain; the music struck up at the same time, and the\nofficers and ladies all began to sing, dance, and skip about Abou\nHassan, and made such a noise, that he was in a perfect ecstasy,\nand played a thousand ridiculous pranks. He threw off his\ncaliph's habit, and his turban, jumped up in his shirt and\ndrawers, and taking hold of two of the ladies' hands, began\nsinging, jumping and cutting capers, so that the caliph could not\ncontain himself, but burst into such violent laughter, that he\nfell backwards, and was heard above the noise of all the\nmusicians. He was so long before he could check himself, that it\nhad like to have been fatal. At last he got up, opened the\nlattice, and putting out his head, cried \"Abou Hassan, Abou\nHassan, have you a mind to kill me with laughing?\"\n\nAs soon as the caliph's voice was heard, every body was silent,\nand Abou Hassan, among the rest, who, turning his head to see\nfrom whence the voice came, knew the caliph, and in him\nrecognised the Moussul merchant, but was not in the least\ndaunted; on the contrary he became convinced that he was awake,\nand that all that had happened to him had been real, and not a\ndream. He entered into the caliph's pleasantry. \"Ha! ha!\" said\nhe, looking at him with good assurance, \"you are a merchant of\nMoussul, and complain that I would kill you; you have been the\noccasion of my using my mother so ill, and of my being sent to a\nmad-house. It was you who treated the imaum and the four scheiks\nin the manner they were used, and not me; I wash my hands of it.\nIt is you who have been the cause of all my disorders and\nsufferings: in short, you are the aggressor, and I the injured\nperson.\"\n\n\"Indeed, you are in the right, Abou Hassan,\" answered the caliph,\nlaughing all the while; \"but to comfort you, and make you amends\nfor all your troubles, I call Heaven to witness, I am ready and\nwilling to make you what reparation you please to ask.\" After\nthese words, he came out of the closet into the hall, ordered one\nof his most magnificent habits to be brought, commanded the\nladies to dress Abou Hassan in it, and when they had done, he\nsaid, embracing him, \"Thou art my brother; ask what thou wilt,\nand thou shalt have it.\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"I beg of your\nmajesty to do me the favour to tell me what you did to disturb my\nbrain in this manner, and what was your design; for it is a thing\nof the greatest importance for me to know, that I may perfectly\nrecover my senses.\"\n\nThe caliph was ready to give him this satisfaction, and said,\n\"First, you are to know, that I often disguise myself, and\nparticularly at night, to observe if all goes right in Bagdad;\nand as I wish to know what passes in its environs, I set apart\nthe first day of every month to make an excursion, sometimes on\none side, sometimes on another, and always return by the bridge.\nThe evening that you invited me to supper, I was beginning my\nrounds, and in our conversation you told me, that the only thing\nyou wished for was to be caliph for four-and-twenty hours, to\npunish the imaum of your mosque and his four counsellors. I\nfancied that this desire of yours would afford me diversion, and\nthought immediately how I might procure you the satisfaction you\nwished. I had about me a certain powder, which immediately throws\nthe person who takes it into a sound sleep for a certain time. I\nput a dose of it, without being perceived by you, into the last\nglass I presented to you, upon which you fell fast asleep, and I\nordered my slave to carry you to my palace, and came away without\nshutting the door. I have no occasion to repeat what happened\nwhen you awoke, nor during the whole day till evening, but after\nyou had been regaled by my orders, one of the ladies put another\ndose of the same powder into a glass she gave you; you fell\nasleep as before, and the same slave carried you home, and left\nthe door open. You have told me all that happened to you\nafterwards. I never imagined that you could have suffered so much\nas you have done. But as I have a great regard for you, I will do\nevery thing to comfort you, and make you forget all your\nsufferings; think of what I can do to serve you, and ask me\nboldly what you wish.\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"how great\nsoever my tortures may have been, they are all blotted out of my\nremembrance, since I understand my sovereign lord and master had\na share in them. I doubt not in the least of your majesty's\nbounty; but as interest never governed me, and you give me\nliberty to ask a favour, I beg that it may be that of having\naccess to your person, to enjoy the happiness of admiring, all my\nlifetime, your virtues.\"\n\nThis proof of disinterestedness in Abou Hassan confirmed the\nesteem the caliph had entertained for him. \"I am pleased with\nyour request,\" said he, \"and grant you free access to my person\nat all times and all hours.\" At the same time he assigned him an\napartment in the palace, and, in regard to his pension, told him,\nthat he would not have him apply to his treasurer, but come\nalways to him for an order upon him, and immediately commanded\nhis private treasurer to give him a purse containing a thousand\npieces of gold. Abou Hassan made a low prostration, and the\ncaliph left him to go to council.\n\nAbou Hassan took this opportunity to go and inform his mother of\nhis good fortune, and that what had happened was not a dream; for\nthat he had actually been caliph, had acted as such, and received\nall the honours; and that she had no reason to doubt of it, since\nhe had this confirmed by the caliph himself.\n\nIt was not long before this story of Abou Hassan was spread\nthroughout Bagdad, and carried into all the provinces both far\nand near, without the omission of a single circumstance.\n\nThe new favourite Abou Hassan was always with the caliph; for, as\nhe was a man of a pleasent temper, and created mirth wherever he\nwent by his wit and drollery, the caliph formed no party of\ndiversion without him, and sometimes carried him to visit his\nconsort Zobeide, to whom he had related his story. Zobeide, who\nobserved that every time he came with the caliph, he had his eyes\nalways fixed upon one of her slaves, called Nouzhatoul-aouadat,\nresolved to tell the caliph of it. \"Commander of the faithful,\"\nsaid she one day, \"you do not observe that every time Abou Hassan\nattends you in your visits to me, he never keeps his eyes off\nNouzhatoul-aouadat, and makes her blush, which is almost a\ncertain sign that she entertains no aversion for him. If you\napprove of it, we will make a match between them.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the caliph, \"you remind me of what I ought to\nhave done before. I know Abou Hassan's opinion respecting\nmarriage from himself, and have always promised him a wife that\nshould please him. I am glad you mentioned the circumstance; for\nI know not how I came to forget it. But it is better that Abou\nHassan should follow his own inclination, and choose for himself.\nIf Nouzhatoul-aouadat is not averse to it, we ought not to\nhesitate upon their marriage; and since they are both present,\nthey have only to say that they consent.\"\n\nAbou Hassan threw himself at the caliph's and Zobeide's feet, to\nshew the sense he had of their goodness; and rising up, said, \"I\ncannot receive a wife from better hands, but dare not hope that\nNouzhatoul-aouadat will give me her hand as readily as I give her\nmine.\" At these words he looked at the princess's slave, who\nshewed by her respectful silence, and the sudden blush that arose\nin her cheeks, that she was disposed to obey the caliph and her\nmistress Zobeide.\n\nThe marriage was solemnized, and the nuptials celebrated in the\npalace, with great rejoicings, which lasted several days. Zobeide\nmade her slave considerable presents, and the caliph did the same\nto Abou Hassan. The bride was conducted to the apartment the\ncaliph had assigned Abou Hassan, who waited for her with all the\nimpatience of a bridegroom, and received her with the sound of\nall sorts of instruments, and musicians of both sexes, who made\nthe air echo with their concert.\n\nAfter these feasts and rejoicings, which lasted several days, the\nnewly-married couple were left to pursue their loves in peace.\nAbou Hassan and his spouse were charmed with each other, lived\ntogether in perfect union, and seldom were asunder, but when\neither he paid his respects to the caliph, or she hers to\nZobeide. Indeed, Nouzhatoul-aouadat was endued with every\nqualification capable of gaining Abou Hassan's love and\nattachment, was just such a wife as he had described to the\ncaliph, and fit to sit at the head of his table. With these\ndispositions they could not fail to pass their lives agreeably.\nThey kept a good table covered with the nicest and choicest\nrarities in season, by an excellent cook, who took upon him to\nprovide every thing. Their sideboard was always stored with\nexquisite wines placed within their reach when at table, where\nthey enjoyed themselves in agreeable conversation, and afterwards\nentertained each other with some pleasantry or other, which made\nthem laugh more or less, as they had in the day met with\nsomething to divert them; and in the evenings, which they\nconsecrated to mirth, they had generally some slight repast of\ndried sweetmeats, choice fruits, and cakes, and at each glass\ninvited each other by new songs to drink, and sometimes\naccompanied their voices with a lute, or other instruments which\nthey could both touch.\n\nAbou Hassan and Nouzhatoul-aouadat led this pleasant life\nunattentive to expense, until at length the caterer, who had\ndisbursed all his and their money for these expenses, brought\nthem in a long bill in hope of having an advance of cash. They\nfound the amount to be so considerable, that all the presents\nwhich the caliph and Zobeide had given them at their marriage\nwere but just enough to pay him. This made them reflect seriously\non what was passed, which, however, was no remedy for the present\nevil. But they agreed to pay the caterer; and having sent for\nhim, gave him all they owed him, without considering the\ndifficulty they should be in immediately after.\n\nThe caterer went away highly pleased at receiving so large a sum,\nthough Abou Hassan and his wife were not so well satisfied with\nseeing the bottom of their purse, but remained a long time\nsilent, and very much embarrassed, to find themselves reduced to\npoverty the very first year of their marriage. Abou Hassan\nremembered that the caliph, when he took him into the palace, had\npromised never to let him want. But when he considered how\nprodigal he had been of his money, was unwilling to expose\nhimself to the shame of letting the caliph know the ill use he\nhad made of his bounty, and that he wanted a supply. Besides, he\nhad made over his patrimony to his mother, when the caliph had\nreceived him near his person, and was afraid to apply to her,\nlest she should discover that he had returned to the same\nextravagance he had been guilty of after his father's death. His\nwife, on the other hand, regarded Zobeide's generosity, and the\nliberty she had given her to marry, as more than a sufficient\nrecompense for her service, and thought she had no right to ask\nmore.\n\nAbou Hassan at last broke silence, and looking at his wife, said,\n\"I see you are in the same embarrassment as myself, and thinking\nwhat we must do in this unhappy juncture, when our money fails us\nso unexpectedly. I do not know what your sentiments may be; but\nmine are, let what will happen, not to retrench our expenses in\nthe least; and I believe you will come into my opinion. The point\nis, how to support them without stooping to ask the caliph or\nZobeide: and I think I have fallen on the means; but we must\nassist each other.\"\n\nThis discourse of Abou Hassan very much pleased his wife, and\ngave her some hopes. \"I was thinking so as well as you,\" said\nshe; \"but durst not explain my thoughts, because I do not know\nhow we can help ourselves; and must confess, that what you tell\nme gives me a revival of pleasure. Since you say you have found\nout a resource, and my assistance is necessary, you need but tell\nme in what way, and I will do all that lies in my power.\"\n\n\"I was sure,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"that you would not fail me in\na business which concerns us both; and therefore I must tell you,\nthis want of money has made me think of a plan which will supply\nus, at least for a time. It consists in a little trick we must\nput, I upon the caliph and you upon Zobeide, and at which, as I\nam sure they will both be diverted, it will answer advantageously\nfor us. You and I will both die.\" \"Not I indeed,\" interrupted\nNouzhatoul-aouadat; \"you may die by yourself, if you please, but\nI am not so weary of this life; and whether you are pleased or\nnot, will not die so soon. If you have nothing else to propose,\nyou may die by yourself; for I assure you I shall not join you.\"\n\n\"You are a woman of such vivacity and wonderful quickness,\"\nreplied Abou Hassan, \"that you scarcely give me time to explain\nmy design. Have but a little patience, and you shall find that\nyou will be ready enough to die such a death as I intend; for\nsurely you could not think I meant a real death?\" \"Well,\" said\nhis wife, \"if it is but a sham death you design, I am at your\nservice, and you may depend on my zeal to second you in this\nmanner of dying; but I must tell you truly, I am very unwilling\nto die, as I apprehended you at first.\"\n\n\"Be but silent a little,\" said Abou Hassan, \"and I will tell you\nwhat I promise. I will feign myself dead, and you shall lay me\nout in the middle of my chamber, with my turban upon my face, my\nfeet towards Mecca, as if ready to be carried out to burial. When\nyou have done this, you must lament, and weep bitterly, as is\nusual in such cases, tear your clothes and hair, or pretend to do\nit, and go all in tears, with your locks dishevelled, to Zobeide.\nThe princess will of course inquire the cause of your grief; and\nwhen you have told her, with words intermixed with sobs, she will\npity you, give you money to defray the expense of my funeral, and\na piece of good brocade to cover my body, that my interment may\nbe the more magnificent, and to make you a new dress in the room\nof that you will have torn. As soon as you return with the money\nand the brocade, I will rise, lay you in my place, and go and act\nthe same part with the caliph, who I dare say will be as generous\nto me as Zobeide will have been to you.\"\n\nNouzhatoul-aouadat highly approved the project, and said to Abou\nHassan, \"Come, lose no time; strip to your shirt and drawers,\nwhile I prepare a winding sheet. I know how to bury as well as\nany body; for while I was in Zobeide's service, when any of my\nfellow-slaves died, I had the conducting of the funeral.\" Abou\nHassan did as his wife mentioned, and laid himself on the sheet\nwhich she had spread on the carpet in the middle of the room. As\nsoon as he had crossed his arms, his wife wrapped him up, turned\nhis feet towards Mecca, and put a piece of fine muslin and his\nturban upon his face, so that nothing seemed wanting but to carry\nhim out to be buried. After this she pulled off her head-dress,\nand with tears in her eyes, her hair dishevelled, and seeming to\ntear it off, with a dismal cry and lamentation, beating her face\nand breast with all the marks of the most lively grief, ran\nacross the court to Zobeide's apartments, who, hearing the voice\nof a person crying very loud, commanded some of her women to see\nwho it was; they returned and told her that it was Nouzhatoul-\naouadat, who was approaching in a deplorable condition.\n\nThe princess, impatient to know what had happened to her, rose up\nimmediately, and went to meet her at the door of her ante-\nchamber. Nouzhatoul-aouadat played her part to perfection. As\nsoon as she saw Zobeide, who held the door open, she redoubled\nher cries, tore her hair off by handfuls, beat her face and\nbreast, and threw herself at her feet, bathing them with her\ntears.\n\nZobeide, amazed to see her slave in such extraordinary\naffliction, asked what had happened; but, instead of answering,\nshe continued her sobs; and at last feigning to strive to check\nthem, said, with words interrupted with sighs, \"Alas! my most\nhonoured lady and mistress, what greater misfortune could have\nbefallen me than this, which obliges me to throw myself at your\nhighness's feet)' God prolong your days, my most respectable\nprincess, in perfect health, and grant you many happy years! Abou\nHassan! poor Abou Hassan! whom you honoured with your esteem, and\ngave me for a husband, is no more!\"\n\nAt these words Nouzhatoul-aouadat redoubled her tears and sighs,\nand threw herself again at the princess's feet. Zobeide was\nextremely concerned at this news. \"Abou Hassan dead!\" cried she;\n\"that agreeable, pleasant man! I did not expect his death so\nsoon; he seemed to promise a long life, and well deserved to\nenjoy it!\" She then also burst into tears, as did all her women,\nwho had been often witnesses of Abou Hassan's pleasantries when\nthe caliph brought him to amuse the princess Zobeide, and all\ntogether continued for some time bewailing his loss. At length\nthe princess Zobeide broke silence: \"Wicked woman!\" cried she,\naddressing herself to the false widow, \"perhaps you may have\noccasioned his death. Your ill temper has given him so much\nvexation, that you have at last brought him to his grave.\"\nNouzhatoul-aouadat seemed much hurt at the reproaches of Zobeide:\n\"Ah, madam,\" cried she, \"I do not think I ever gave your majesty,\nwhile I was your slave, reason to entertain so disadvantageous an\nopinion of my conduct to a husband who was so dear to me. I\nshould think myself the most wretched of women if you were\npersuaded of this. I behaved to Abou Hassan as a wife should do\nto a husband for whom she has a sincere affection; and I may say,\nwithout vanity, that I had for him the same regard he had for me.\nI am persuaded he would, were he alive, justify me fully to your\nmajesty; but, madam,\" added she, renewing her tears, \"his time\nwas come, and that was the only cause of his death.\"\n\nZobeide, as she had really observed in her slave a uniformly\nequal temper, mildness, great docility and zeal for her service,\nwhich shewed she was rather actuated by inclination than duty,\nhesitated not to believe her on her word, and ordered her\ntreasurer to fetch a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of rich\nbrocade.\n\nThe slave soon returned with the purse and piece of brocade,\nwhich, by Zobeide's order, she delivered to Nouzhatoul-aouadat,\nwho threw herself again at the princess's feet, and thanked her\nwith great self-satisfaction at finding she had succeeded so\nwell. \"Go,\" said Zobeide, \"use that brocade to cover the corpse\nof your husband, and with the money bury him handsomely, as he\ndeserves. Moderate the transport of your afflictions: I will take\ncare of you.\"\n\nAs soon as Nouzhatoul-aouadat got out of the princess's presence,\nshe dried up her tears, and returned with joy to Abou Hassan, to\ngive him an account of her good success. When she came home she\nburst out a laughing on seeing her husband still stretched out in\nthe middle of the floor; she ran to him, bade him rise and see\nthe fruits of his stratagem. He arose, and rejoiced with his wife\nat the sight of the purse and brocade. Unable to contain herself\nat the success of her artifice, \"Come, husband,\" said she,\nlaughing, \"let me act the dead part, and see if you can manage\nthe caliph as well as I have done Zobeide.\"\n\n\"That is the temper of all women,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"who, we\nmay well say, have always the vanity to believe they can do\nthings better than men, though at the same time what good they do\nis by their advice. It would be odd indeed, if I, who laid this\nplot myself, could not carry it on as well as you. But let us\nlose no time in idle discourse; lie down in my place, and witness\nif I do not come off with as much applause.\"\n\nAbou Hassan wrapped up his wife as she had done him, and with his\nturban unrolled, like a man in the greatest affliction, ran to\nthe caliph, who was holding a private council with Jaaffier and\nother confidential viziers. He presented himself at the door, and\nthe officer, knowing he had free access, opened it. He entered\nholding with one hand his handkerchief before his eyes, to hide\nthe feigned tears, which trickled down his cheeks, and striking\nhis breast with the other, with exclamations expressing\nextraordinary grief.\n\nThe caliph, always used to see Abou Hassan with a merry\ncountenance, was very much surprised to behold him in so much\ndistress. He interrupted the business of the council to inquire\nthe cause of his grief. \"Commander of the faithful,\" answered\nAbou Hassan, with repeated sighs and sobs, \"God preserve your\nmajesty on the throne, which you fill so gloriously! a greater\ncalamity could not have befallen me than what I now lament. Alas!\nNouzhatoul-aouadat whom you in your bounty gave me for a wife to\ngladden my existence, alas!\" at this exclamation Abou Hassan\npretended to have his heart so full, that he could not utter\nmore, but poured forth a flood of tears.\n\nThe caliph, who now understood that Abou Hassan came to tell him\nof the death of his wife, seemed much concerned, and said to him\nwith an air which shewed how much he regretted her loss, \"God be\nmerciful to her: she was a good slave, and we gave her to you\nwith an intention to make you happy: she deserved a longer life.\"\nThe tears then ran down his face, so that he was obliged to pull\nout his handkerchief to wipe them off. The grief of Abou Hassan,\nand the tears of the caliph, excited those of Jaaffier and the\nother viziers. They bewailed the death of Nouzhatoul- aouadat,\nwho, on her part, was only impatient to hear how Abou Hassan\nsucceeded.\n\nThe caliph had the same suspicion of the husband that Zobeide had\nof the wife, and imagined that he had occasioned her death.\n\"Wretch!\" said he, in a tone of indignation, \"have not you been\nthe cause of your wife's death by your ill treatment of her? You\nought at least to have had some regard for the princess my\nconsort, who loved her more than the rest of her slaves, yet\nconsented to give her to you. What a return for her kindness!\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied Abou Hassan, affecting to\nweep more bitterly than before, \"can your majesty for a moment\nsuppose that Abou Hassan, whom you have loaded with your favours\nand kindness, and on whom you have conferred honours he could\nnever have aspired to, can have been capable of such ingratitude?\nI loved Nouzhatoul-aouadat my wife as much on these accounts, as\nfor the many good qualities she possessed, and which drew from me\nall the attachment, tenderness, and love she deserved. But, my\nlord,\" added he, \"she was to die, and God would no longer suffer\nme to enjoy a happiness for which I was indebted to your majesty\nand your beloved consort.\"\n\nAbou Hassan dissembled so well, that the caliph, who had never\nheard how extravagantly he and his wife had lived, no longer\ndoubting his sincerity, ordered his treasurer, who was present,\nto give Abou Hassan a purse of a hundred pieces of gold and a\npiece of brocade. Abou Hassan immediately cast himself at the\ncaliph's feet, and thanked him for his present. \"Follow the\ntreasurer,\" said the monarch; \"throw the brocade over the corpse,\nand with the money shew the last testimony of thy love for thy\nwife.\"\n\nAbou Hassan made no reply to these obliging words of the caliph,\nbut retiring with a low prostration, followed the treasurer; and\nas soon as he had got the purse and piece of brocade, went home,\nwell pleased with having found out so quick and easy a way of\nsupplying the necessity which had given him so much uneasiness.\n\nNouzhatoul-aouadat, weary with lying so long in one posture,\nwaited not till Abou Hassan bade her rise; but as soon as she\nheard the door open, sprang up, ran to her husband, and asked him\nif he had imposed on the caliph as cleverly as she had done on\nZobeide. \"You see,\" said he, shewing her the stuff, and shaking\nthe purse, \"that I can act a sorrowful husband for a living wife,\nas well as you can a weeping widow for a husband not dead.\" Abou\nHassan, however, was not without his fears that this double plot\nmight be attended with some ill consequences. He thought it would\nnot be amiss to put his wife on her guard as to what might\nhappen, that they might aft in concert. \"For,\" added he, \"the\nbetter we succeed in embarrassing the caliph and Zobeide, the\nmore they will be pleased at last, and perhaps may shew their\nsatisfaction by greater liberality.\" This last consideration\ninduced them to carry on their stratagem farther.\n\nThe caliph, though he had important affairs to decide, was so\nimpatient to condole with the princess on the death of her slave,\nthat he rose up as soon as Abou Hassan was gone, and put off the\ncouncil to another day. \"Follow me,\" said he to Mesrour, who\nalways attended him wherever he went, and was in all his\ncouncils, \"let us go and share with the princess the grief which\nthe death of her slave Nouzhatoul-aouadat must have occasioned.\"\n\nAccordingly they went to Zobeide's apartment, whom the caliph\nfound sitting on a sofa, much afflicted, and still in tears.\n\"Madam,\" said the caliph, going up to her, \"it is unnecessary to\ntell you how much I partake with you in your affliction; since\nyou must be sensible that what gives you pleasure or trouble, has\nthe same effect on me. But we are all mortal, and must surrender\nup to God that life he has given us, when he requires it.\nNouzhatoul-aouadat, your faithful slave, was endued with\nqualifications that deserved your esteem, and I cannot but\napprove your expressing it after her death; but consider all your\ngrief will not restore her to life. Therefore, madam, if you love\nme, and will take my advice, be comforted for this loss, take\ncare of a life which you know is precious to me, and constitutes\nall the happiness of mine. \"\n\nIf the princess was charmed with these tender sentiments which\nthe caliph expressed in his compliments, she was amazed to hear\nof Nouzhatoulaouadat's death. This news threw her into such\nastonishment, that she was not able to return an answer for some\ntime. At last recovering, she replied with an air expressive of\nsurprise, \"Commander of the faithful, I am very sensible of all\nyour tender sentiments; but give me leave to say, I cannot\ncomprehend the news you tell me of the death of my slave, who is\nin perfect health. My affliction is for the death of Abou Hassan,\nher husband, your favourite, whom I esteemed, as much for the\nregard you had for him, as his having so often diverted me\nagreeably, and for whom I had as great a value as yourself. But\nthe little concern you shew for his death, and your so soon\nforgetting a man in whose company you have so often told me you\ntook so much pleasure, surprises me; and this insensibility seems\nthe greater, from the deception you would put upon me in changing\nhis death for that of my slave.\"\n\nThe caliph, who thought that he was perfectly well informed of\nthe death of the slave, and had just reason to believe so,\nbecause he had both seen and heard Abou Hassan, laughed, and\nshrugged up his shoulders, to hear Zobeide talk in this manner.\n\"Mesrour,\" said he, to the eunuch, \"what do you think of the\nprincess's discourse? Do not women sometimes lose their senses;\nfor you have heard and seen all as well as myself?\" Then turning\nto Zobeide, \"Madam,\" said he, \"shed no more tears for Abou\nHassan, for I can assure you he is well; but rather bewail the\ndeath of your dear slave. It is not many moments since her\nhusband came in the most inexpressible affliction, to tell me of\nthe death of his wife. I gave him a purse of a hundred pieces of\ngold and a piece of brocade, to comfort him, and bury her; and\nMesrour, who was present, can tell you the same.\"\n\nThe princess took this discourse of the caliph's to be all a\njest, and thought he had a mind to impose upon her. \"Commander of\nthe faithful,\" replied she, \"though you are used to banter, I\nmust tell you, this is not a proper time for pleasantry. What I\ntell you is very serious; I do not talk of my slave's death, but\nof Abou Hassan's, her husband, whose fate I bewail, and so ought\nyou too.\" \"Madam,\" said the caliph, putting on a grave\ncountenance, \"I tell you without raillery that you are deceived;\nNouzhatoul-aouadat is dead, and Abou Hassan is alive, and in\nperfect health.\"\n\nZobeide was much piqued at this dry answer of the caliph.\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied she smartly, \"God preserve\nyou from continuing longer in this mistake, surely you would make\nme think your mind is not as usual. Give me leave to repeat to\nyou once more, that it is Abou Hassan who is dead, and that my\nslave Nouzhatoul-aouadat, his widow, is living. It is not an hour\nsince she went from hence. She came here in so disconsolate a\nstate, that the sight of her was enough to have drawn tears from\nmy eyes, if she had not told me her affliction. All my women, who\nwept with me, can bear me witness, and tell you also that I made\nher a present of a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of brocade;\nthe grief which you found me in, was on account of the death of\nher husband; and just at the instant you entered, I was going to\nsend you a compliment of condolence.\"\n\nAt these words of Zobeide, the caliph cried out in a fit of\nlaughter, \"This, madam, is a strange piece of obstinacy; but,\"\ncontinued he seriously, \"you may depend upon Nouzhatoul-aouadat's\nbeing dead.\" \"I tell you no, sir,\" replied Zobeide sharply; \"it\nis Abou Hassan that is dead, and you shall never make me believe\notherwise.\"\n\nUpon this the caliph's anger rose in his countenance. He seated\nhimself on the sofa at some distance from the princess, and\nspeaking to Mesrour, said, \"Go immediately, see which it is, and\nbring me word; for though I am certain that it is Nouzhatoul-\naouadat, I would rather take this method than be any longer\nobstinately positive about the matter, though of its certainty I\nam perfectly satisfied.\" No sooner had the caliph commanded than\nMesrour was gone. \"You will see,\" continued he, addressing\nhimself to Zobeide, \"in a moment, which of us is right.\" \"For my\npart,\" replied Zobeide, \"I know very well that I am in the right,\nand you will find it to be Abou Hassan.\" \"And for myself,\"\nreturned the caliph, \"I am so sure that it is Nouzhatoul-aouadat,\nthat I will lay you what wager you please that Abou Hassan is\nwell.\"\n\n\"Do not think to come off so,\" said Zobeide; \"I accept your\nwager, and I am so well persuaded of his death, that I would\nwillingly lay the thing dearest to me in the world against what\nyou will, though it were of less value. You know what I have in\nmy disposal, and what I value most; propose the bet, and I will\nstand to it.\"\n\n\"Since it is so,\" said the caliph, \"I will lay my garden of\npleasures against your palace of paintings, though the one is\nworth much more than the other.\" \"Is the question at present,\"\nreplied Zobeide, \"if your garden is more valuable than my palace?\nThat is not the point. You have made choice of what you thought\nfit belonging to me, as an equivalent against what you lay; I\naccept the wager, and that I will abide by it, I take God to\nwitness.\" The caliph took the same oath, and both waited\nMesrour's return.\n\nWhile the caliph and Zobeide were disputing so earnestly, and\nwith so much warmth, Abou Hassan, who foresaw their difference,\nwas very attentive to whatever might happen. As soon as he\nperceived Mesrour through a window, at which he sat talking with\nhis wife, and observed that he was coming directly to their\napartment, he guessed his commission, and bade his wife make\nhaste to act the dead part once more, as they had agreed, without\nloss of time; but they were so pressed, that Abou Hassan had much\nado to wrap up his wife, and lay the piece of brocade which the\ncaliph had given him upon her, before Mesrour reached the house.\nThis done, he opened the door of his apartment, and with a\nmelancholy, dejected countenance, and his handkerchief before his\neyes, went and sat down at the head of the pretended deceased.\n\nBy the time he was seated, Mesrour came into the room. The dismal\nsight which met his eyes, gave him a secret joy on account of the\nerrand the caliph had sent him on. Abou Hassan rose up to meet\nhim, and kissing his hand out of respect, said, sighing and\nsobbing, \"You see me under the greatest calamity that ever could\nhave befallen me the death of my dear wife, Nouzhatoul-aouadat,\nwhom you honoured with your favours.\"\n\nMesrour, affected by this discourse, could not refuse some tears\nto the memory of the deceased. He lifted up the cloth a little at\nthe head, and peeping under it, let it down again, and said, with\na deep sigh, \"There is no other God but Allah, we must all submit\nto his will, and every creature must return to him. Nouzhatoul-\naouadat, my good sister,\" added he, sighing, \"thy days have been\nfew: God have mercy on thee.\" Then turning to Abou Hassan, who\nwas all the time in tears, \"We may well say,\" added he, \"that\nwomen sometimes have whims, and lose their senses in a most\nunpardonable manner; for Zobeide, good mistress as she is, is in\nthat situation at present; she will maintain to the caliph that\nyou are dead, and not your wife; and whatever the caliph can say\nto the contrary, he cannot persuade her otherwise. He called me\nto witness and confirm this truth; for you know I was present\nwhen you came and told him the sorrowful news: but all signifies\nnothing. They are both positive; and the caliph, to convince\nZobeide, has sent me to know the truth, but I fear I shall not be\nbelieved; for when women once take up a thing, they are not to be\nbeaten out of it.\"\n\n\"God keep the commander of the faithful in the possession and\nright use of his senses,\" replied Abou Hassan, still sighing and\nweeping; \"you see how it is, and that I have not imposed upon his\nmajesty. And I wish to Heaven,\" continued he, to dissemble the\nbetter, \"that I had no occasion to have told him the melancholy\nand afflicting news. Alas! I cannot enough express my irreparable\nloss!\" \"That is true,\" replied Mesrour, \"and I can assure you I\ntake a great share in your affliction; but you must be comforted,\nand not abandon yourself to your grief. I leave you with\nreluctance, to return to the caliph; but I beg the favour of you\nnot to bury the corpse till I come again; for I will assist at\nthe interment, and accompany it with my prayers.\" Mesrour went to\ngive an account of his visit. Abou Hassan attended him to the\ndoor, told him he did not deserve the honour he intended him: and\nfor fear Mesrour should return to say something else, followed\nhim with his eyes for some time, and when he saw him at a\ndistance, returned to his wife and released her. \"This is\nalready,\" said he, \"a new scene of mirth, but I fancy it will not\nbe the last; for certainly the princess Zobeide will not believe\nMesrour, but will laugh at him, since she has too substantial a\nreason to the contrary; therefore we must expect some new event.\"\nWhile Abou Hassan was talking thus, Nouzhatoul-aouadat had time\nto put on her clothes again, and both went and sat down on a sofa\nopposite to the window, where they could see all that passed.\n\nIn the mean time, Mesrour reached Zobeide's apartment, and going\ninto her closet laughing, clapped his hands like one who had\nsomething very agreeable to tell.\n\nThe caliph, naturally impatient, and piqued a little at the\nprincess's contradiction, as soon as he saw Mesrour, \"Vile\nslave,\" said he, \"is this a time to laugh? Why do not you tell me\nwhich is dead, the husband or the wife?\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" answered Mesrour, putting on a\nserious countenance, \"it is Nouzhatoul-aouadat who is dead, for\nthe loss of whom About Hassan is as much afflicted as when he\nappeared before your majesty.\" The caliph not giving him time to\npursue his story, interrupted him, and cried out, laughing\nheartily, \"Good news! Zobeide, your mistress, was a moment ago\npossessed of the palace of paintings, and now it is mine. She\nstaked it against my garden of pleasures, since you went;\ntherefore you could not have done me greater pleasure. I will\ntake care to reward you: but give me a true account of what you\nsaw.\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" said Mesrour, \"when I came to Abou\nHassan's apartment, I found the door open, and he was bewailing\nthe death of his wife. He sat at the head of the deceased, who\nwas laid out in the middle of the room, with her feet towards\nMecca, and was covered with the piece of brocade which your\nmajesty presented to Abou Hassan. After I had expressed the share\nI took in his grief, I went and lifted up the pall at the head,\nand knew Nouzhatoul-aouadat, though hr face was much swelled and\nchanged. I exhorted Abou Hassan in the best manner I could to be\ncomforted; and when I came away, told him I would attend at his\nwife's funeral, and desired him not to remove the corpse till I\ncame. This is all I can tell your majesty.\" \"I ask no more,\" said\nthe caliph, laughing heartily, \"and I am well satisfied with your\nexactness.\" Then addressing himself to Zobeide, \"Well, madam,\"\nsaid he, \"have you yet any thing to say against so certain a\ntruth? Will you still believe that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is alive,\nand that Abou Hassan is dead? And will you not own that you have\nlost your wager?\"\n\n\"How, sir,\" replied Zobeide, who would not believe one word\nMesrour said, \"do you think that I regard that impertinent fellow\nof a slave, who knows not what he says? I am not blind or mad.\nWith these eyes I saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat in the greatest\naffliction; I spoke to her myself, and she told me that her\nhusband was dead.\" \"Madam,\" replied Mesrour, \"I swear to you by\nyour own life, and that of the commander of the faithful, which\nare both dear to me, that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is dead, and Abou\nHassan is living.\"\n\n\"Thou liest, base despicable slave,\" said Zobeide in a rage, \"and\nI will confound thee immediately.\" Clapping her hands together,\nshe called her women, who all approached. \"Come hither,\" said the\nprincess to them, \"and speak the truth. Who was that who came and\nspoke with me a little before the caliph entered?\" The women all\nanswered that it was poor afflicted Nouzhatoul-aouadat. \"And\nwhat,\" added she, addressing herself to her treasurer, \"did I\norder you to give her?\" \"Madam,\" answered the treasurer, \"I gave\nNouzhatoul-aouadat, by your orders, a purse of a hundred pieces\nof gold and a piece of brocade, which she carried away with her.\"\n\"Well, then, sorry slave,\" said Zobeide to Mesrour, in passion,\n\"what have you to say to all this? Whom do you think now I ought\nto believe, you or my treasurer, my women, and myself?\"\n\nMesrour did not want for arguments to contradict the princess;\nbut, as he was afraid of provoking her too much, chose rather to\nbe silent, though he was satisfied that the wife was dead, and\nnot the husband.\n\nDuring the whole of this dispute between Zobeide and Mesrour, the\ncaliph, who heard the evidence on both sides, and was persuaded\nof the contrary of what the princess asserted, because he had\nhimself seen and spoken to Abou Hassan, and from what Mesrour had\ntold him, laughed heartily to see Zobeide so exasperated.\n\"Madam,\" said he to her, \"once more I repeat that I know not who\nwas the author of that saying, that \u0091Women sometimes lose their\nwits,' but I am sure you make it good. Mesrour has just come from\nAbou Hassan's, and tells you that he saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat lying\ndead in the middle of the room, Abou Hassan alive, and sitting by\nher; and yet you will not believe this evidence, which nobody can\nreasonably refuse; I cannot comprehend this conduit.\"\n\nZobeide would not hear the caliph. \"Pardon me, commander of the\nfaithful,\" replied she, \"if I suspect you: I see that you have\ncontrived with Mesrour to vex me, and to try my patience. And as\nI perceive that this report was concerted between you, I beg\nleave to send a person to Abou Hassan's, to know whether or not I\nam in the wrong.\"\n\nThe caliph consented, and the princess charged with this\nimportant commission an old nurse, who had lived with her from\nher infancy. \"Hark you nurse,\" said she, \"you see my dispute with\nthe commander of the faithful, and Mesrour; I need tell you no\nmore. Go to Abou Hassan's or rather to Nouzhatoul-aouadat's, for\nAbou Hassan is dead, and clear up this matter for me. If you\nbring me good news, a handsome present is your reward: make\nhaste, and return immediately.\"\n\nThe nurse set out, to the great joy of the caliph, who was\ndelighted to see Zobeide in this embarrassment; but Mesrour,\nextremely mortified to find the princess so angry with him, did\nall he could to appease her, and to make her and the caliph both\nsatisfied with him. He was overjoyed when Zobeide sent the nurse;\nbecause he was persuaded that the report she must make would\nagree with his, justify him, and restore him to her favour.\n\nIn the mean time Abou Hassan, who watched at the window,\nperceived the nurse at a distance, and guessing that she was sent\nby Zobeide, called his wife, and told her that the princess's\nnurse was coming to know the truth. \"Therefore,\" said he, \"make\nhaste and lay me out.\" Accordingly Nouzhatoul-aouadat covered him\nwith the brocade Zobeide had given her, and put his turban upon\nhis face. The nurse, eager to acquit herself of her commission,\nhobbled as fast as age would allow her, and entering the room,\nperceived Nouzhatoul-aouadat in tears, her hair dishevelled, and\nseated at the head of her husband, beating her breast, with all\nthe expressions of violent grief.\n\nThe good old nurse went directly to the false widow. \"My dear\nNouzhatoul-aouadat,\" said she, with a sorrowful countenance, \"I\ncome not to interrupt your grief and tears for a husband whom you\nloved so tenderly.\" \"Ah! good mother,\" replied the counterfeit\nwidow, \"you see my misfortune, and how unhappy I am from the loss\nof my beloved Abou Hassan. Abou Hassan, my dear husband!\" cried\nshe, \"what have I done that you should leave me so soon? Have I\nnot always preferred your will to my own? Alas! what will become\nof poor Nouzhatoul-aouadat?\"\n\n\"This black-faced Mesrour,\" cried the nurse, lifting up her\nhands, \"deserves to be punished for having caused so great a\ndifference between my good mistress and the commander of the\nfaithful, by the falsehood he has told them. Daughter,\" continued\nshe, \"that villain Mesrour has asserted, with inconceivable\nimpudence, before our good mistress, that you were dead, and Abou\nHassan was alive.\"\n\n\"Alas! my good mother,\" cried Nouzhatoul-aouadat, \"I wish to\nHeaven that it was true! I should not be in this sorrowful state,\nnor bewail a husband so dear to me!\" At these words she wept\nafresh, and with redoubled tears and cries feigned the deepest\nsorrow.\n\nThe nurse was so much moved by her tears, that she sat down by\nher, and cried too. Then gently lifting up the turban and cloth,\nlooked at the face of the corpse. \"Ah! poor Abou Hassan,\" she\ncried, covering his face again, \"God have mercy upon thee. Adieu,\nchild,\" said she to Nouzhatoul-aouadat: \"if I could stay longer\nwith you, I would with all my heart; but I am obliged to return\nimmediately, to deliver my mistress from the uneasiness that\nblack villain has occasioned her, by his impudent lie, assuring\nher with an oath that you were dead.\"\n\nAs soon as the nurse was gone, Nouzhatoul-aouadat wiped her eyes\nand released Abou Hassan; they both went and sat down on a sofa\nagainst the window, expecting what would be the end of this\nstratagem, and to be ready to act according as circumstances\nmight require.\n\n\nThe nurse, in the mean time, made all the haste she could to\nZobeide. The pleasure of carrying the princess news favourable to\nher wager, but still more the hopes of a good reward, added wings\nto her feet, and running into the princess's closet quite out of\nbreath, she gave her a true account of all she had seen. Zobeide\nhearkened to the old woman's relation with a most sensible\npleasure; and when she had done, said, with a tone which shewed\ntriumph at having, as she supposed, won her wager: \"Repeat it\nonce more before the caliph, who looks upon us all to be fools,\nwould make us believe we have no sense of religion, nor fear of\nGod; and tell your story to that wicked black slave, who had the\ninsolence to assert a wilful falsehood.\"\n\nMesrour, who expected the nurse's report would prove favourable\non his side, was much mortified to find it so much the contrary,\nand so vexed at the anger Zobeide expressed against him, for a\nthing which he thought himself surer of than any body, that he\nwas glad of an opportunity of speaking his mind freely to the old\nwomen, which he durst not do to the princess. \"Old toothless,\"\nsaid he to the nurse, \"you are a liar, and there is no truth in\nwhat you say; for I saw with my own eyes Nouzhatoul-aouadat laid\nout in the middle of the room.\"\n\n\"You are a notorious liar yourself,\" replied the nurse, with an\ninsulting air, \"to dare maintain so great a falsity before my\nface, who am just come from seeing Abou Hassan dead, laid out,\nand have left his wife alive.\" \"I am not an impostor,\" replied\nMesrour; \"it is you who endeavour to lead us all into error.\"\n\n\"What impudence,\" said the nurse, \"to dare tell me I lie in the\npresence of their majesties, when I saw just now with my own eyes\nwhat I have had the honour to tell them.\" \"Indeed, nurse,\"\nanswered Mesrour again, \"you had better hold your tongue, for you\ncertainly doat.\"\n\nZobeide, who could no longer endure this want of respect in\nMesrour, who, without any regard to her, treated her nurse so\ninjuriously in her presence, without giving the old lady time to\nreply to so gross an affront, said to the caliph, \"Commander of\nthe faithful, I demand justice for this insolence to us both.\"\nShe was so enraged she could say no more, but burst into tears.\n\nThe caliph, who had heard all the dispute, thought it very\nintricate. He mused some time, and could not tell what to think\nof so many contradictions. The princess on her part, as well as\nMesrour, the nurse, and all the women slaves, who were present,\nwere as much puzzled, and remained silent. At last the caliph,\naddressing himself to Zobeide, said, \"I see we are all liars;\nmyself first, then you, Mesrour, and you, nurse; or at least it\nseems not one can be believed more than the other; therefore let\nus go ourselves to examine the truth, for I can see no other way\nto clear up these doubts.\"\n\nSo saying, the caliph arose, the princess followed him, and\nMesrour went before to open the doors. \"Commander of the\nfaithful,\" said he, \"I am overjoyed that your majesty has taken\nthis course; and shall be much more, when I shall make it plainly\nappear to the nurse, not that she doats, since the expression is\nunfortunately displeasing to my good mistress, but that her\nreport is not true.\"\n\nThe nurse wanted not a reply; \"Hold your tongue, black face,\"\nsaid she; \"you doat yourself.\"\n\nZobeide, who was much provoked at Mesrour, could not bear to hear\nhim attack her nurse again without taking her part: \"Vile slave,\"\nsaid she, \"say what you will, I maintain my nurse speaks the\ntruth, and look upon you as a mere liar.\" \"Madam,\" replied\nMesrour, \"if nurse is so very certain that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is\nalive, and Abou Hassan dead, I will lay her what she dares of\nit.\" The nurse was as ready as he; \"I dare,\" said she, \"take you\nat your word: let us see if you dare unsay it.\" Mesrour stood to\nhis word; and they laid a piece of gold brocade with silver\nflowers before the caliph and the princess.\n\nThe apartment from which the caliph and Zobeide set out, though\ndistant from Abou Hassan's, was nevertheless just opposite, so\nthat he perceived them coming, and told his wife that he was much\nmistaken if the caliph and Zobeide, preceded by Mesrour, and\nfollowed by a great number of women, were not about to do them\nthe honour of a visit. She looked through a lattice and saw them,\nseemed frightened, and cried out, \"What shall we do? we are\nruined.\" \"Fear nothing,\" replied Abou Hassan. \"Have you forgotten\nalready what we agreed on? We will both feign ourselves dead, and\nyou shall see all will go well. At the slow rate they are coming,\nwe shall be ready before they reach the door.\" Accordingly, Abou\nHassan and his wife wrapped up and covered themselves with the\npieces of brocade, and waited patiently for their visitors.\n\nMesrour, who came first, opened the door, and the caliph and\nZobeide, followed by their attendants, entered the room; but were\nstruck with horror, and stood motionless, at the spectacle which\npresented itself to their view, not knowing what to think. At\nlength Zobeide breaking silence, said to the caliph, \"Alas! they\nare both dead! You have done much,\" continued she, looking at the\ncaliph and Mesrour, \"to endeavour to make me believe that my dear\nslave was dead, and I find it is true: grief at the loss of her\nhusband has certainly killed her.\" \"Say rather, madam,\" answered\nthe caliph, prepossessed to the contrary, that Nouzhatoul-aoudat\ndied first, \"the afflicted Abou Hassan sunk under his grief, and\ncould not survive his dear wife; you ought, therefore, to confess\nthat you have lost your wager, and that your palace of paintings\nis mine.\"\n\n\"Hold there,\" answered Zobeide, warmed at being contradicted by\nthe caliph; \"I will maintain you have lost your garden of\npleasures. Abou Hassan died first; since my nurse told you, as\nwell as me, that she saw her alive, and weeping for the death of\nher husband.\"\n\nThe dispute of the caliph and Zobeide brought on another between\nMesrour and the nurse, who had wagered as well as they; each\naffirmed to have won, and at length they proceeded to abuse each\nother very grossly.\n\nAt last the caliph, reflecting on what had passed, began to think\nthat Zobeide had as much reason as himself to maintain that she\nhad won. In this embarrassment of not being able to find out the\ntruth, he advanced towards the corpses, and sat down at the head,\nsearching for some expedient that might gain him the victory over\nZobeide. \"I swear,\" cried he presently after, \"by the holy name\nof God, that I will give a thousand pieces of gold to him who can\ntell me which of these two died first.\"\n\n\nNo sooner were these words out of the caliph's mouth, than he\nheard a voice under Abou Hassan's piece of brocade say,\n\"Commander of the faithful, I died first, give me the thousand\npieces of gold.\" At the same instant Abou Hassan threw off the\npiece of brocade, and springing up, prostrated himself at his\nfeet, while his wife did the same to Zobeide, keeping on her\npiece of brocade out of decency. The princess at first shrieked\nout, but recovering herself, expressed great joy to see her dear\nslave rise again, just when she was almost inconsolable at having\nseen her dead. \"Ah! wicked Nouzhatoul-aouadat,\" cried she, \"what\nhave I suffered for your sake? However, I forgive you from my\nheart, since you are not dead.\"\n\nThe caliph was not so much surprised, when he heard Abou Hassan's\nvoice: but thought he should have died with laughing at this\nunravelling of the mystery, and to hear Abou Hassan ask so\nseriously for the thousand pieces of gold. \"What, Abou Hassan,\"\nsaid he, continuing to laugh aloud, \"hast thou conspired against\nmy life, to kill me a second time with laughing? How came this\nthought into your head, to surprise Zobeide and me thus, when we\nleast thought of such a trick?\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied Abou Hassan, \"I will declare\nto your majesty the whole truth, without the least reserve. Your\nmajesty knows that I always loved to eat and drink well' and the\nwife you gave me rather increased than restrained this\npropensity. With these dispositions your majesty may easily\nsuppose we might spend a good estate; and to make short of my\nstory, we were not sparing of what your majesty so generously\ngave us. This morning, accounting with our caterer, who took care\nto provide every thing for us, and paying what we owed him, we\nfound we had nothing left. Then, reflections on what was past,\nand resolutions to manage better for the future, crowded into our\nthoughts; we formed a thousand projects, all of which we\nrejected. At last, the shame of seeing ourselves reduced to so\nlow a condition, and not daring to tell your majesty, made us\ncontrive this stratagem to relieve our necessities, and to divert\nyou, which we hope your majesty will be pleased to pardon.\"\n\nThe caliph was satisfied with Abou Hassan's sincerity, and\nZobeide, who had till now been very serious, began to laugh at\nthe thought of Abou Hassan's scheme. The caliph, who had not\nceased laughing at the singularity of the adventure, rising, said\nto Abou Hassan and his wife, \"Follow me; I will give you the\nthousand pieces of gold I promised, for joy to find you are not\ndead.\" Zobeide desired him to let her make her slave a present of\nthe same sum, for the same reason. By this means Abou Hassan and\nhis wife Nouzhatoul-aouadat preserved the favour of the caliph\nHaroon al Rusheed and the princess Zobeide, and by their\nliberalities were enabled to pursue their pleasures.\n\n\n\n\n\n               THE STORY OF ALLA AD DEEN; OR, THE\n                        WONDERFUL LAMP.\n\n\n\nIn the capital of one of the large and rich provinces of the\nkingdom of China, the name of which I do not recollect, there\nlived a tailor, named Mustapha, who was so poor, that he could\nhardly, by his daily labour, maintain himself and his family,\nwhich consisted of a wife and son.\n\nHis son, who was called Alla ad Deen, had been brought up in a\nvery careless and idle manner, and by that means had contracted\nmany vicious habits. He was wicked, obstinate, and disobedient to\nhis father and mother, who, when he grew up, could not keep him\nwithin doors. He was in the habit of going out early in the\nmorning, and would stay out all day, playing in the streets and\npublic places with idle children of his own age.\n\nWhen he was old enough to learn a trade, his father not being\nable to put him out to any other, took him into his own shop, and\ntaught him how to use his needle: but neither fair words nor the\nfear of chastisement were capable of fixing his lively genius.\nAll his father's endeavours to keep him to his work were in vain;\nfor no sooner was his back turned, than he was gone for that day.\nMustapha chastised him, but Alla ad Deen was incorrigible, and\nhis father, to his great grief, was forced to abandon him to his\nidleness: and was so much troubled at not being able to reclaim\nhim, that it threw him into a fit of sickness, of which he died\nin a few months.\n\nThe mother, finding that her son would not follow his father's\nbusiness, shut up the shop, sold off the implements of trade, and\nwith the money she received for them, and what she could get by\nspinning cotton, thought to maintain herself and her son. Alla ad\nDeen, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father,\nand who cared so little for his mother, that whenever she chid\nhim, he would abuse her, gave himself entirely over to his idle\nhabits, and was never out of the streets from his companions.\nThis course he followed till he was fifteen years old, without\ngiving his mind to any useful pursuit, or the least reflection on\nwhat would become of him. In this situation, as he was one day\nplaying according to custom in the street, with his vagabond\nassociates, a stranger passing by stood to observe him.\n\nThis stranger was a sorcerer, called by the writer of this story,\nthe African magician; he was a native of Africa, and had been but\ntwo days arrived from thence.\n\nThe African magician, who was a good physiognomist, observing in\nAlla ad Deen's countenance something absolutely necessary for the\nexecution of the design he was engaged in, inquired artfully\nabout his family, who he was, and what were his inclinations; and\nwhen he had learned all he desired to know, went up to him, and\ntaking him aside from his comrades, said, \"Child, was not your\nfather called Mustapha the tailor?\" \"Yes, sir,\" answered the boy;\n\"but he has been dead a long time.\"\n\nAt these words, the African magician threw his arms about Alla ad\nDeen's neck, and kissed him several times with tears in his eyes.\nAlla ad Deen, who observed his tears, asked him what made him\nweep. \"Alas! my son,\" cried the African magician with a sigh,\n\"how can I forbear?\n\n\"I am your uncle; your worthy father was my own brother. I have\nbeen many years abroad, and now I am come home with the hopes of\nseeing him, you tell me he is dead. I assure you it is a sensible\ngrief to me to be deprived of the comfort I expected. But it is\nsome relief to my affliction, that as far as I can remember him,\nI knew you at first sight, you are so like him; and I see I am\nnot deceived.\" Then he asked Alla ad Deen, putting his hand into\nhis purse, where his mother lived; and as soon as he had informed\nhim, gave him a handful of small money, saying, \"Go, my son, to\nyour mother, give my love to her, and tell her that I will visit\nher to-morrow, if I have time, that I may have the satisfaction\nof seeing where my good brother lived so long, and ended his\ndays.\"\n\nAs soon as the African magician left his newly-adopted nephew,\nAlla ad Deen ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his uncle\nhad given him. \"Mother,\" said he, \"have I an uncle?\" \"No, child,\"\nreplied his mother, \"you have no uncle by your father's side, or\nmine.\" \"I am just now come,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"from a man who\nsays he is my uncle by my father's side, assuring me that he is\nhis brother. He cried and kissed me when I told him my father was\ndead; and to shew you that what I tell you is truth,\" added he,\npulling out the money, \"see what he has given me. He charged me\nto give his love to you, and to tell you, if he has any time to-\nmorrow, he will come and pay you a visit, that he may see the\nhouse my father lived and died in.\" \"Indeed, child,\" replied the\nmother, \"your father had a brother, but he has been dead a long\ntime, and I never heard of another.\"\n\nThe mother and son talked no more then of the African magician;\nbut the next day Alla ad Deen's uncle found him playing in\nanother part of the town with other children, and embracing him\nas before, put two pieces of gold into his hand, and said to him,\n\"Carry this, child, to your mother, tell her that I will come and\nsee her tonight, and bid her get us something for supper; but\nfirst shew me the house where you live.\"\n\nAfter Alla ad Deen had shewed the African magician the house, he\ncarried the two pieces of gold to his mother, and when he had\ntold her of his uncle's intention, she went out and bought\nprovisions; and considering she wanted various utensils, borrowed\nthem of her neighbours. She spent the whole day in preparing the\nsupper; and at night when it was ready, said to her son, \"Perhaps\nyour uncle knows not how to find our house; go and bring him if\nyou meet with him.\"\n\nThough Alla ad Deen had shewed the magician the house, he was\nready to go, when somebody knocked at the door, which he\nimmediately opened: and the magician came in loaded with wine,\nand all sorts of fruits, which he brought for a dessert.\n\nAfter the African magician had given what he brought into Alla ad\nDeen's hands, he saluted his mother, and desired her to shew him\nthe place where his brother Mustapha used to sit on the sofa; and\nwhen she had so done, he fell down and kissed it several times,\ncrying out with tears in his eyes, \"My poor brother! How unhappy\nam I, not to have come soon enough to give you one last embrace.\"\nAlla ad Deen's mother desired him to sit down in the same place,\nbut he declined. \"No,\" said he, \"I shall take care how I do that;\nbut give me leave to sit opposite to it, that although I am\ndeprived of the satisfaction of seeing the master of a family so\ndear to me, I may at least have the pleasure of beholding the\nplace where he used to sit.\" The widow pressed him no farther,\nbut left him at liberty to sit where he pleased.\n\nWhen the magician had made choice of a place, and sat down, he\nbegan to enter into discourse with Alla ad Deen's mother. \"My\ngood sister,\" said he, \"do not be surprised at your never having\nseen me all the time you have been married to my brother Mustapha\nof happy memory. I have been forty years absent from this\ncountry, which is my native place, as well as my late brother's;\nand during that time have travelled into the Indies, Persia,\nArabia, Syria, and Egypt, have resided in the finest towns of\nthose countries; and afterwards crossed over into Africa, where I\nmade a longer stay. At last, as it is natural for a man, how\ndistant soever it may be, to remember his native country,\nrelations, and acquaintance, I was desirous to see mine again,\nand to embrace my dear brother; and finding I had strength enough\nto undertake so long a journey, I immediately made the necessary\npreparations, and set out. I will not tell you the length of time\nit took me, all the obstacles I met with, and what fatigues I\nhave endured, to come hither; but nothing ever mortified and\nafflicted me so much, as hearing of my brother's death, for whom\nI always had a brotherly love and friendship. I observed his\nfeatures in the face of my nephew, your son, and distinguished\nhim among a number of children with whom he was at play; he can\ntell you how I received the most melancholy news that ever\nreached my ears. But God be praised for all things! It is a\ncomfort for me to find, as it were, my brother in a son, who has\nhis most remarkable features.\"\n\nThe African magician perceiving that the widow began to weep at\nthe remembrance of her husband, changed the conversation, and\nturning towards her son, asked him his name. \"I am called Alla ad\nDeen,\" said he. \"Well, Alla ad Deen,\" replied the magician, \"what\nbusiness do you follow? Are you of any trade?\"\n\nAt this question the youth hung down his head, and was not a\nlittle abashed when his mother answered, \"Alla ad Deen is an idle\nfellow; his father, when alive, strove all he could to teach him\nhis trade, but could not succeed; and since his death,\nnotwithstanding all I can say to him, he does nothing but idle\naway his time in the streets, as you saw him, without considering\nhe is no longer a child; and if you do not make him ashamed of\nit, I despair of his ever coming to any good. He knows that his\nfather left him no fortune, and sees me endeavour to get bread by\nspinning cotton; for my part, I am resolved one of these days to\nturn him out of doors, and let him provide for himself.\"\n\nAfter these words, Alla ad Deen's mother burst into tears; and\nthe magician said, \"This is not well, nephew; you must think of\nhelping yourself, and getting your livelihood. There are many\nsorts of trades, consider if you have not an inclination to some\nof them; perhaps you did not like your father's, and would prefer\nanother: come, do not disguise your sentiments from me; I will\nendeavour to help you.\" But finding that Alla ad Deen returned no\nanswer, \"If you have no mind,\" continued he, \"to learn any\nhandicraft, I will take a shop for you, furnish it with all sorts\nof fine stuffs and linens; and with the money you make of them\nlay in fresh goods, and then you will live in an honourable way.\nConsult your inclination, and tell me freely what you think of my\nproposal: you shall always find me ready to keep my word.\"\n\nThis plan greatly flattered Alla ad Deen, who hated work, but had\nsense enough to know that such shops were much frequented, and\nthe owners respected. He told the magician he had a greater\ninclination to that business than to any other, and that he\nshould be much obliged to him for his kindness. \"Since this\nprofession is agreeable to you,\" said the African magician, \"I\nwill carry you with me to-morrow, clothe you as handsomely as the\nbest merchants in the city, and afterwards we will think of\nopening a shop as I mentioned.\"\n\nThe widow, who never till then could believe that the magician\nwas her husband's brother, no longer doubted after his promises\nof kindness to her son. She thanked him for his good intentions;\nand after having exhorted Alla ad Deen to render himself worthy\nof his uncle's favour by good behaviour, served up supper, at\nwhich they talked of several indifferent matters; and then the\nmagician, who saw that the night was pretty far advanced, took\nhis leave, and retired.\n\nHe came again the next day, as he had promised, and took Alla ad\nDeen with him to a merchant, who sold all sorts of clothes for\ndifferent ages and ranks ready made, and a variety of fine\nstuffs. He asked to see some that suited Alla ad Deen in size;\nand after choosing a suit for himself which he liked best, and\nrejecting others which he did not think handsome enough, he bade\nAlla ad Deen choose those he preferred. Alla ad Deen, charmed\nwith the liberality of his new uncle, made choice of one, and the\nmagician immediately paid for it.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen found himself so handsomely equipped, he\nreturned his uncle thanks; who promised never to forsake him, but\nalways to take him along with him; which he did to the most\nfrequented places in the city, and particularly where the\nprincipal merchants kept their shops.\n\nWhen he brought him into the street where they sold the richest\nstuffs, and finest linens, he said to Alla ad Deen, \"As you are\nsoon to be a merchant, it is proper you should frequent these\nshops, and be acquainted with them.\" He then shewed him the\nlargest and finest mosques, carried him to the khans or inns\nwhere the merchants and travellers lodged, and afterwards to the\nsultan's palace, where he had free access; and at last brought\nhim to his own khan, where meeting with some merchants he had\nbecome acquainted with since his arrival, he gave them a treat,\nto bring them and his pretended nephew acquainted.\n\nThis entertainment lasted till night, when Alla ad Deen would\nhave taken leave of his uncle to go home; the magician would not\nlet him go by himself, but conducted him to his mother, who, as\nsoon as she saw him so well dressed, was transported with joy,\nand bestowed a thousand blessings upon the magician, for being at\nso great an expense upon her child. \"Generous relation!\" said\nshe, \"I know not how to thank you for your liberality! I know\nthat my son is not deserving of your favours; and were he ever so\ngrateful, and answered your good intentions, he would be unworthy\nof them. I thank you with all my soul, and wish you may live long\nenough to witness my son's gratitude, which he cannot better shew\nthan by regulating his conduct by your good advice.\" \"Alla ad\nDeen,\" replied the magician, \"is a good boy, and I believe we\nshall do very well; but I am sorry for one thing, which is, that\nI cannot perform to-morrow what I promised, because, as it is\nFriday, the shops will be shut up, and therefore we cannot hire\nor furnish one, but must wait till Saturday. I will, however,\ncall on him to-morrow and take him to walk in the gardens, where\npeople of the best fashion generally resort. Perhaps he has never\nseen these amusements, he has only hitherto been among children;\nbut now he must see men.\" The African magician took his leave of\nthe mother and the son, and retired. Alla ad Deen, who was\noverjoyed to be so well clothed, anticipated the pleasure of\nwalking in the gardens. He had never been out of the town, nor\nseen the environs, which were very beautiful and pleasant.\n\nAlla ad Deen rose early the next morning, dressed himself, to be\nready when his uncle called on him; and after he had waited some\ntime, began to be impatient, and stood watching at the door; but\nas soon as he perceived him coming, he told his mother, took his\nleave of her, and ran to meet him.\n\nThe magician caressed Alla ad Deen, and said, \"Come, my dear\nchild, and I will shew you fine things.\" He then led him out at\none of the gates of the city, to some magnificent houses, or\nrather palaces, to each of which belonged beautiful gardens, into\nwhich anybody might enter. At every building he came to, he asked\nAlla ad Deen if he did not think it fine; and the youth was ready\nto answer when any one presented itself, crying out, \"Here is a\nfiner house, uncle, than any we have seen yet.\" By this artifice,\nthe cunning magician led Alla ad Deen some way into the country;\nand as he meant to carry him farther, to execute his design, he\ntook an opportunity to sit down in one of the gardens on the\nbrink of a fountain of clear water, which discharged itself by a\nlion's mouth of bronze into a basin, pretending to be tired.\n\"Come, nephew,\" said he, \"you must be weary as well as I; let us\nrest ourselves, and we shall be better able to pursue our walk.\"\n\nAfter they had sat down, the magician pulled from his girdle a\nhandkerchief with cakes and fruit, which he had provided, and\nlaid them on the edge of the basin. He broke a cake in two, gave\none half to Alla ad Deen, and ate the other himself; and in\nregard to the fruit, left him at liberty to take which sort he\nliked best. During this short repast, he exhorted his nephew to\nleave off keeping company with vagabonds, and seek that of wise\nand prudent men, to improve by their conversation. \"For,\" said\nhe, \"you will soon be at man's estate, and you cannot too early\nbegin to imitate their example.\" When they had eaten as much as\nthey liked, they got up, and pursued their walk through gardens\nseparated from one another only by small ditches, which marked\nout the limits without interrupting the communication; so great\nwas the confidence the inhabitants reposed in each other. By this\nmeans, the African magician drew Alla ad Deen insensibly beyond\nthe gardens, and crossed the country, till they nearly reached\nthe mountains.\n\nAlla ad Deen, who had never been so far before, began to find\nhimself much tired with so long a walk, and said to the magician,\n\"Where are we going, uncle? We have left the gardens a great way\nbehind us, and I see nothing but mountains; if we go much\nfurther, I do not know whether I shall be able to reach the town\nagain?\" \"Never fear, nephew,\" said the false uncle; \"I will shew\nyou another garden which surpasses all we have yet seen; it is\nnot far off; and when we come there, you will say that you would\nhave been sorry to have been so nigh, and not seen it.\" Alla ad\nDeen was soon persuaded; and the magician, to make the way seem\nshorter and less fatiguing, told him a great many stories.\n\nAt last they arrived between two mountains of moderate height,\nand equal size, divided by a narrow valley, which was the place\nwhere the magician intended to execute the design that had\nbrought him from Africa to China. \"We will go no farther now,\"\nsaid he to Alla ad Deen: \"I will shew you here some extraordinary\nthings, which, when you have seen, you will thank me for: but\nwhile I strike a light, gather up all the loose dry sticks you\ncan see, to kindle a fire with.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen found so many dried sticks, that before the magician\nhad made a light, he had collected a great heap. The magician\npresently set them on fire, and when they were in a blaze, threw\nin some incense which raised a cloud of smoke. This he dispersed\non each side, by pronouncing several magical words which Alla ad\nDeen did not understand.\n\nAt the same time the earth trembling, opened just before the\nmagician, and uncovered a stone, laid horizontally, with a brass\nring fixed into the middle. Alla ad Deen was so frightened at\nwhat he saw, that he would have run away; but the magician caught\nhold of him, abused him, and gave him such a box on the ear, that\nhe knocked him down. Alla ad Deen got up trembling, and with\ntears in his eyes, said to the magician, \"What have I done,\nuncle, to be treated in this severe manner?\" \"I have my reasons,\"\nanswered the magician: \"I am your uncle, I supply the place of\nyour father, and you ought to make no reply. But, child,\" added\nhe, softening, \"do not be afraid; for I shall not ask any thing\nof you, but that you obey me punctually, if you would reap the\nadvantages which I intend you.\" These fair promises calmed Alla\nad Deen's fears and resentment; and when the magician saw that he\nwas appeased, he said to him, \"You see what I have done by virtue\nof my incense, and the words I pronounced. Know then, that under\nthis stone there is hidden a treasure, destined to be yours, and\nwhich will make you richer than the greatest monarch in the\nworld: no person but yourself is permitted to lift this stone, or\nenter the cave; so you must punctually execute what I may\ncommand, for it is a matter of great consequence both to you and\nme.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen, amazed at all he saw and heard the magician say of\nthe treasure which was to make him happy, forgot what was past,\nand rising, said, \"Well, uncle, what is to be done? Command me, I\nam ready to obey.\" \"I am overjoyed, child,\" said the African\nmagician, embracing him; \"take hold of the ring, and lift up that\nstone.\" \"Indeed, uncle,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"I am not strong\nenough, you must help me.\" \"You have no occasion for my\nassistance,\" answered the magician; \"if I help you, we shall be\nable to do nothing; take hold of the ring, pronounce the names of\nyour father and grandfather, then lift it up, and you will find\nit will come easily.\" Alla ad Deen did as the magician bade him,\nraised the stone with ease, and laid it on one side.\n\nWhen the stone was pulled up, there appeared a cavity of about\nthree or four feet deep, with a little door, and steps to go down\nlower. \"Observe, my son,\" said the African magician, \"what I\ndirect. Descend into the cave, and when you are at the bottom of\nthose steps you will find a door open, which will lead you into a\nspacious vault, divided into three great halls, in each of which\nyou will see four large brass cisterns placed on each side, full\nof gold and silver; but take care you do not meddle with them.\nBefore you enter the first hall, be sure to tuck up your vest,\nwrap it about you, and then pass through the second into the\nthird without stopping. Above all things, have a care that you do\nnot touch the walls, so much as with your clothes; for if you do,\nyou will die instantly. At the end of the third hall, you will\nfind a door which opens into a garden planted with fine trees\nloaded with fruit; walk directly across the garden by a path\nwhich will lead you to five steps that will bring you upon a\nterrace, where you will see a niche before you, and in that niche\na lighted lamp. Take the lamp down, and extinguish it: when you\nhave thrown away the wick, and poured out the liquor, put it in\nyour vestband and bring it to me. Do not be afraid that the\nliquor will spoil your clothes, for it is not oil; and the lamp\nwill be dry as soon as it is thrown out. If you should wish for\nany of the fruit of the garden, you may gather as much as you\nplease.\"\n\nAfter these words, the magician drew a ring off his finger, and\nput it on one of Alla ad Deen's, telling him that it was a\npreservative against all evil, while he should observe what he\nhad prescribed to him. After this instruction he said, \"Go down\nboldly, child, and we shall both be rich all our lives.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen jumped into the cave, descended the steps, and found\nthe three halls just as the African magician had described. He\nwent through them with all the precaution the fear of death could\ninspire; crossed the garden without stopping, took down the lamp\nfrom the niche, threw out the wick and the liquor, and, as the\nmagician had desired, put it in his vestband. But as he came down\nfrom the terrace, seeing it was perfectly dry, he stopped in the\ngarden to observe the fruit, which he only had a glimpse of in\ncrossing it. All the trees were loaded with extraordinary fruit,\nof different colours on each tree. Some bore fruit entirely\nwhite, and some clear and transparent as crystal; some pale red,\nand others deeper; some green, blue, and purple, and others\nyellow: in short, there was fruit of all colours. The white were\npearls; the clear and transparent, diamonds; the deep red,\nrubies; the paler, rubies; the green, emeralds; the blue,\nturquoises; the purple, amethysts; and those that were of yellow\ncast, sapphires. Alla ad Deen was altogether ignorant of their\nworth, and would have preferred figs and grapes, or any other\nfruits. But though he took them only for coloured glass of little\nvalue, yet he was so pleased with the variety of the colours, and\nthe beauty and extraordinary size of the seeming fruit, that he\nresolved to gather some of every sort; and accordingly filled the\ntwo new purses his uncle had bought for him with his clothes.\nSome he wrapped up in the skirts of his vest, which was of silk,\nlarge and wrapping, and crammed his bosom as full as it could\nhold.\n\nAlla ad Deen, having thus loaded himself with riches he knew not\nthe value of, returned through the three halls with the same\nprecaution, made all the haste he could, that he might not make\nhis uncle wait, and soon arrived at the mouth of the cave, where\nthe African magician expected him with the utmost impatience. As\nsoon as Alla ad Deen saw him, he cried out, \"Pray, uncle, lend me\nyour hand, to help me out.\" \"Give me the lamp first,\" replied the\nmagician; \"it will be troublesome to you.\" \"Indeed, uncle,\"\nanswered Alla ad Deen, \"I cannot now; it is not troublesome to\nme: but I will as soon as I am up.\" The African magician was so\nobstinate, that he would have the lamp before he would help him\nup; and Alla ad Deen, who had encumbered himself so much with his\nfruit that he could not well get at it, refused to give it to him\ntill he was out of the cave. The African magician, provoked at\nthis obstinate refusal, flew into a passion, threw a little of\nhis incense into the fire, which he had taken care to keep in,\nand no sooner pronounced two magical words, than the stone which\nhad closed the mouth of the cave moved into its place, with the\nearth over it in the same manner as it lay at the arrival of the\nmagician and Alla ad Deen.\n\nThis action of the African magician's plainly shewed him to be\nneither Alla ad Deen's uncle, nor Mustapha the tailor's brother;\nbut a true African. Africa is a country whose inhabitants delight\nmost in magic of any in the whole world, and he had applied\nhimself to it from his youth. After forty years' experience in\nenchantments, geomancy, fumigations, and reading of magic books,\nhe had found out that there was in the world a wonderful lamp,\nthe possession of which would render him more powerful than any\nmonarch; and by a late operation of geomancy, he had discovered\nthat this lamp lay concealed in a subterraneous place in the\nmidst of China, in the situation already described. Fully\npersuaded of the truth of this discovery, he set out from the\nfarthest part of Africa; and after a long and fatiguing journey,\ncame to the town nearest to this treasure. But though he had a\ncertain knowledge of the place where the lamp was, he was not\npermitted to take it himself, nor to enter the .subterraneous\nplace, but must receive it from the hands of another person. For\nthis reason he had addressed himself to Alla ad Deen, whom he\nlooked upon as a young lad whose life was of no consequence, and\nfit to serve his purpose, resolving, as soon as he should get the\nlamp into his hands, to sacrifice him to his avarice and\nwickedness, by making the fumigation mentioned before, and\nrepeating two magical words, the effect of which would remove the\nstone into its place, so that no witness would remain of the\ntransaction.\n\nThe blow he had given Alla ad Deen was intended to make him obey\nthe more readily, and give him the lamp as soon as he should ask\nfor it. But his too great precipitation, and his fear lest\nsomebody should come that way during their dispute, and discover\nwhat he wished to keep secret, produced an effect quite contrary\nto what he had proposed to himself.\n\nWhen the African magician saw that all his hopes were frustrated\nforever, he returned the same day for Africa; but went quite\nround the town, and at some distance from it, lest some persons\nwho had observed him walk out with the boy, on seeing him come\nback without him, should entertain any suspicions, and stop him.\n\nAccording to all appearances, there was no prospects of Alla ad\nDeen being any more heard of. But the magician, when he had\ncontrived his death, forgot the ring he had put upon his finger,\nwhich preserved him, though he knew not its virtue. It may seem\nastonishing that the loss of that, together with the lamp, did\nnot drive the magician to despair; but magicians are so much used\nto misfortunes, and events contrary to their wishes, that they do\nnot lay them to heart, but still feed themselves, to the end of\nlife, with unsubstantial notions and chimeras.\n\nThe surprise of Alla ad Deen, who had never suspected this\ntreachery from his pretended uncle, after all his caresses and\nwhat he had done for him, is more easily to be imagined than\nexpressed. When he found himself buried alive, he cried, and\ncalled out to his uncle, to tell him he was ready to give him the\nlamp; but in vain, since his cries could not be heard. He\ndescended to the bottom of the steps, with a design to get into\nthe garden, but the door, which was opened before by enchantment,\nwas now shut by the same means. He then redoubled his cries and\ntears, sat down on the steps, without any hopes of ever seeing\nlight again, and in a melancholy certainty of passing from the\npresent darkness into that of a speedy death.\n\nAlla ad Deen remained in this state two days, without eating or\ndrinking, and on the third looked upon death as inevitable.\nClasping his hands with an entire resignation to the will of God,\nhe said, \"There is no strength or power but in the great and high\nGod.\" In this action of joining his hands he rubbed the ring\nwhich the magician had put on his finger, and of which he knew\nnot yet the virtue. Immediately a genie of enormous size and\nfrightful aspect rose out of the earth, his head reaching the\nroof of the vault, and said to him, \"What wouldst thou have? I am\nready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all who may\npossess the ring on thy finger; I, and the other slaves of that\nring.\"\n\nAt another time, Alla ad Deen, who had not been used to such\nappearances, would have been so frightened at the sight of so\nextraordinary a figure that he would not have been able to speak;\nbut the danger he was in made him answer without hesitation,\n\"Whoever thou art, deliver me from this place, if thou art able.\"\nHe had no sooner spoken these words, than he found himself on the\nvery spot where the magician had caused the earth to open.\n\nIt was some time before his eyes could bear the light, after\nbeing so long in total darkness: but after he had endeavoured by\ndegrees to support it, and began to look about him, he was much\nsurprised not to find the earth open, and could not comprehend\nhow he had got so soon out of its bowels. There was nothing to be\nseen but the place where the fire had been, by which he could\nnearly judge the situation of the cave. Then turning himself\ntowards the town, he perceived it at a distance in the midst of\nthe gardens that surrounded it, and saw the way by which the\nmagician had brought him. Returning God thanks to find himself\nonce more in the world, he made the best of his way home. When he\ngot within his mother's door, the joy to see her and his weakness\nfor want of sustenance for three days made him faint, and he\nremained for a long time as dead. His mother, who had given him\nover for lost, seeing him in this condition, omitted nothing to\nbring him to himself. As soon as he recovered, the first words he\nspoke, were, \"Pray, mother, give me something to eat, for I have\nnot put a morsel of anything into my mouth these three days.\" His\nmother brought what she had, and set it before him. \"My son,\"\nsaid she, \"be not too eager, for it is dangerous; eat but little\nat a time, and take care of yourself. Besides, I would not have\nyou talk; you will have time enough to tell me what has happened\nto you when you are recovered. It is a great comfort to me to see\nyou again, after the affliction I have been in since Friday, and\nthe pains I have taken to learn what was become of you.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen took his mother's advice, and ate and drank\nmoderately. When he had done, \"Mother,\" said he to her, \"I cannot\nhelp complaining of you, for abandoning me so easily to the\ndiscretion of a man who had a design to kill me. and who at this\nvery moment thinks my death certain. You believed he was my\nuncle, as well as I; and what other thoughts could we entertain\nof a man who was so kind to me, and made such advantageous\nproffers? But I must tell you, mother, he is a rogue and a cheat,\nand only made me those promises to accomplish my death; but for\nwhat reason neither you nor I can guess. For my part, I can\nassure you, I never gave him any cause to justify the least ill\ntreatment from him. You shall judge yourself, when you have heard\nall that passed from the time I left you, till he came to the\nexecution of his wicked design.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen then related to his mother all that had happened to\nhim from the Friday, when the magician took him to see the\npalaces and gardens about the town, and what fell out in the way,\ntill they came to the place between the two mountains where the\ngreat prodigy was to be performed; how, with incense which the\nmagician threw into the fire, and some magical words which he\npronounced, the earth opened, and discovered a cave, which led to\nan inestimable treasure. He forgot not the blow the magician had\ngiven him, in what manner he softened again, and engaged him by\ngreat promises, and putting a ring to his finger, to go down into\nthe cave. He did not omit the least circumstance of what he saw\nin crossing the three halls and the garden, and his taking the\nlamp, which he pulled out of his bosom and shewed to his mother,\nas well as the transparent fruit of different colours, which he\nhad gathered in the garden as he returned. But, though these\nfruits were precious stones, brilliant as the sun, and the\nreflection of a lamp which then lighted the room might have led\nthem to think they were of great value, she was as ignorant of\ntheir worth as her son, and cared nothing for them. She had been\nbred in a low rank of life, and her husband's poverty prevented\nhis being possessed of jewels, nor had she, her relations, or\nneighbours, ever seen any; so that we must not wonder that she\nregarded them as things of no value, and only pleasing to the eye\nby the variety of their colours.\n\nAlla ad Deen put them behind one of the cushions of the sofa, and\ncontinued his story, telling his mother, that when he returned to\nthe mouth of the cave, upon his refusal to give the magician the\nlamp till he should get out, the stone, by his throwing some\nincense into the fire, and using two or three magical words, shut\nhim in, and the earth closed. He could not help bursting into\ntears at the representation of the miserable condition he was in,\nat finding himself buried alive in a dismal cave, till by the\ntouching of his ring, the virtue of which he was till then an\nentire stranger to, he, properly speaking, came to life again.\nWhen he had finished his story, he said to his mother, \"I need\nsay no more, you know the rest. This is my adventure, and the\ndanger I have been exposed to since you saw me.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother heard with so much patience as not to\ninterrupt him this surprising and wonderful relation,\nnotwithstanding it could be no small affliction to a mother, who\nloved her son tenderly: but yet in the most moving part which\ndiscovered the perfidy of the African magician, she could not\nhelp shewing, by marks of the greatest indignation, how much she\ndetested him; and when her son had finished his story, she broke\nout into a thousand reproaches against that vile impostor. She\ncalled him perfidious traitor, barbarian, assassin, deceiver,\nmagician, and an enemy and destroyer of mankind. \"Without doubt,\nchild,\" added she, \"he is a magician, and they are plagues to the\nworld, and by their enchantments and sorceries have commerce with\nthe devil. Bless God for preserving you from his wicked designs;\nfor your death would have been inevitable, if you had not called\nupon him, and implored his assistance.\" She said a great deal\nmore against the magician's treachery; but finding that whilst\nshe talked, Alla ad Deen, who had not slept for three days and\nnights, began to doze, she left him to his repose and retired.\n\nAlla ad Deen, who had not closed his eyes while he was in the\nsubterraneous abode, slept very soundly till late the next\nmorning; when the first thing he said to his mother was that he\nwanted something to eat, and that she could not do him a greater\nkindness than to give him his breakfast. \"Alas! child,\" said she,\n\"I have not a bit of bread to give you, you ate up all the\nprovisions I had in the house yesterday; but have a little\npatience, and it shall not be long before I will bring you some:\nI have a little cotton, which I have spun; I will go and sell it,\nbuy bread, and something for our dinner.\" \"Mother,\" replied Alla\nad Deen, \"keep your cotton for another time, and give me the lamp\nI brought home with me yesterday; I will go and sell it, and the\nmoney I shall get for it will serve both for breakfast and\ndinner, and perhaps supper too.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother took the lamp, and said to her son, \"Here\nit is, but it is very dirty; if it was a little cleaner I believe\nit would bring something more.\" She took some fine sand and water\nto clean it; but had no sooner begun to rub it, than in an\ninstant a hideous genie of gigantic size appeared before her, and\nsaid to her in a voice like thunder, \"What wouldst thou have? I\nam ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those\nwho have that lamp in their hands; I and the other slaves of the\nlamp.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother, terrified at the sight of the genie,\nfainted; when Alla ad Deen, who had seen such a phantom in the\ncavern, snatched the lamp out of his mother's hand, and said to\nthe genie boldly, \"I am hungry, bring me something to eat.\" The\ngenie disappeared immediately, and in an instant returned with a\nlarge silver tray, holding twelve covered dishes of the same\nmetal, which contained the most delicious viands; six large white\nbread cakes on two plates, two flagons of wine, and two silver\ncups. All these he placed upon a carpet, and disappeared; this\nwas done before Alla ad Deen's mother recovered from her swoon.\n\nAlla ad Deen had fetched some water, and sprinkled it in her\nface, to recover her: whether that or the smell of the meat\nbrought her to life again, it was not long before she came to\nherself. \"Mother,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"do not mind this; get up,\nand come and eat; here is what will put you in heart, and at the\nsame time satisfy my extreme hunger: do not let such delicious\nmeat get cold.\"\n\nHis mother was much surprised to see the great tray, twelve\ndishes, six loaves, the two flagons and cups, and to smell the\nsavoury odour which exhaled from the dishes. \"Child,\" said she,\n\"to whom are we obliged for this great plenty and liberality? Has\nthe sultan been made acquainted with our poverty, and had\ncompassion on us?\" \"It is no matter, mother,\" said Alla ad Deen,\n\"let us sit down and eat; for you have almost as much need of a\ngood breakfast as myself; when we have done, I will tell you.\"\nAccordingly both mother and son sat down, and ate with the better\nrelish as the table was so well furnished. But all the time Alla\nad Deen's mother could not forbear looking at and admiring the\ntray and dishes, though she could not judge whether they were\nsilver or any other metal, and the novelty more than the value\nattracted her attention.\n\nThe mother and son sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time, and\nthen they thought it would be best to put the two meals together;\nyet after this they found they should have enough left for\nsupper, and two meals for the next day.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen's mother had taken away and set by what was\nleft, she went and sat down by her son on the sofa, saying, \"I\nexpect now that you should satisfy my impatience, and tell me\nexactly what passed between the genie and you while I was in a\nswoon;\" which he readily complied with.\n\nShe was in as great amazement at what her son told her, as at the\nappearance of the genie; and said to him, \"But, son, what have we\nto do with genii? I never heard that any of my acquaintance had\never seen one. How came that vile genie to address himself to me,\nand not to you, to whom he had appeared before in the cave?\"\n\"Mother,\" answered Alla ad Deen, \"the genie you saw is not the\none who appeared to me, though he resembles him in size; no, they\nhad quite different persons and habits; they belong to different\nmasters. If you remember, he that I first saw, called himself the\nslave of the ring on my finger; and this you saw, called himself\nthe slave of the lamp you had in your hand: but I believe you did\nnot hear him, for I think you fainted as soon as he began to\nspeak.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried the mother, \"was your lamp then the occasion of\nthat cursed genie addressing himself rather to me than to you?\"\nAh my son, take it out of my sight, and put it where you please.\nI will never touch it. I had rather you would sell it, than run\nthe hazard of being frightened to death again by touching it: and\nif you would take my advice, you would part also with the ring,\nand not have any thing to do with genii, who, as our prophet has\ntold us, are only devils.\"\n\n\"With your leave, mother,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"I shall now\ntake care how I sell a lamp, which may be so serviceable both to\nyou and me. Have not you been an eye-witness of what it has\nprocured us? and it shall still continue to furnish us with\nsubsistence and maintenance. You may suppose as I do, that my\nfalse and wicked uncle would not have taken so much pains, and\nundertaken so long and tedious a journey, if it had not been to\nget into his possession this wonderful lamp, which he preferred\nbefore all the gold and silver which he knew was in the halls,\nand which I have seen with my own eyes. He knew too well the\nworth of this lamp, not to prefer it to so great a treasure; and\nsince chance hath discovered the virtue of it to us, let us make\na profitable use of it, without making any great shew, and\nexciting the envy and jealousy of our neighbours. However, since\nthe genii frighten you so much, I will take it out of your sight,\nand put it where I may find it when I want it. The ring I cannot\nresolve to part with; for without that you had never seen me\nagain; and though I am alive now, perhaps, if it was gone, I\nmight not be so some moments hence; therefore I hope you will\ngive me leave to keep it, and to wear it always on my finger. Who\nknows what dangers you and I may be exposed to, which neither of\nus can foresee, and from which it may deliver us.\" As Alla ad\nDeen's arguments were just, his mother had nothing to say against\nthem; she only replied, that he might do what he pleased, for her\npart, she would have nothing to do with genii, but would wash her\nhands of them, and never say anything more about them.\n\nBy the next night they had eaten all the provisions the genie had\nbrought; and the next day Alla ad Deen, who could not bear the\nthoughts of hunger, putting one of the silver dishes under his\nvest, went out early to sell it, and addressing himself to a Jew\nwhom he met in the streets, took him aside, and pulling out the\nplate, asked him if he would buy it. The cunning Jew took the\ndish, examined it, and as soon as he found that it was good\nsilver, asked Alla ad Deen at how much he valued it. Alla ad\nDeen, who knew not its value, and never had been used to such\ntraffic, told him he would trust to his judgment and honour. The\nJew was somewhat confounded at this plain dealing; and doubting\nwhether Alla ad Deen understood the material or the full value of\nwhat he offered to sell, took a piece of gold out of his purse\nand gave it him, though it was but the sixtieth part of the worth\nof the plate. Alla ad Deen, taking the money very eagerly,\nretired with so much haste, that the Jew, not content with the\nexorbitancy of his profit, was vexed he had not penetrated into\nhis ignorance, and was going to run after him, to endeavour to\nget some change out of the piece of gold; but he ran so fast, and\nhad got so far, that it would have been impossible for him to\novertake him.\n\nBefore Alla ad Deen went home, he called at a baker's, bought\nsome cakes of bread, changed his money, and on his return gave\nthe rest to his mother, who went and purchased provisions enough\nto last them some time. After this manner they lived, till Alla\nad Deen had sold the twelve dishes singly, as necessity pressed,\nto the Jew, for the same money; who, after the first time, durst\nnot offer him less, for fear of losing so good a bargain. When he\nhad sold the last dish, he had recourse to the tray, which\nweighed ten times as much as the dishes, and would have carried\nit to his old purchaser, but that it was too large and\ncumbersome; therefore he was obliged to bring him home with him\nto his mother's, where, after the Jew had examined the weight of\nthe tray, he laid down ten pieces of gold, with which Alla ad\nDeen was very well satisfied.\n\nThey lived on these ten pieces in a frugal manner, and Alla ad\nDeen, though used to an idle life, had left off playing with\nyoung lads of his own age ever since his adventure with the\nAfrican magician. He spent his time in walking about, and\nconversing with decent people, with whom he gradually got\nacquainted. Sometimes he would stop at the principal merchants'\nshops, where people of distinction met, and listen to their\ndiscourse, by which he gained some little knowledge of the world.\n\nWhen all the money was spent, A]la ad Deen had recourse again to\nthe lamp. He took it in his hand, looked for the part where his\nmother had rubbed it with the sand, rubbed it also, when the\ngenie immediately appeared, and said, \"What wouldst thou have?\" I\nam ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those\nwho have that lamp in their hands; I, and the other slaves of the\nlamp.\" \"I am hungry,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"bring me something to\neat.\" The genie disappeared, and presently returned with a tray,\nthe same number of covered dishes as before, set them down, and\nvanished.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother, knowing what her son was going to do, went\nout about some business, on purpose to avoid being in the way\nwhen the genie came; and when she returned, was almost as much\nsurprised as before at the prodigious effect of the lamp.\nHowever, she sat down with her son, and when they had eaten as\nmuch as they liked, she set enough by to last them two or three\ndays.\n\nAs soon as Alla ad Deen found that their provisions were\nexpended, he took one of the dishes, and went to look for his Jew\nchapman; but passing by a goldsmith's shop, who had the character\nof a very fair and honest man, the goldsmith perceiving him,\ncalled to him, and said, \"My lad, I have often observed you go\nby, loaded as you are at present, and talk with such a Jew, and\nthen come back again empty handed. I imagine that you carry\nsomething which you sell to him; but perhaps you do not know that\nhe is the greatest rogue even among the Jews, and is so well\nknown, that nobody of prudence will have anything to do with him.\nWhat I tell you is for your own good. If you will shew me what\nyou now carry, and it is to be sold, I will give you the full\nworth of it; or I will direct you to other merchants who will not\ncheat you.\"\n\nThe hopes of getting more money for his plate induced Alla ad\nDeen to pull it from under his vest, and shew it to the\ngoldsmith, who at first sight saw that it was made of the finest\nsilver, asked him if he had sold such as that to the Jew, when\nAlla ad Deen told him that he had sold him twelve such, for a\npiece of gold each. \"What a villain!\" cried the goldsmith; \"but,\"\nadded he, \"my son, what is passed cannot be recalled. By shewing\nyou the value of this plate, which is of the finest silver we use\nin our shops, I will let you see how much the Jew has cheated\nyou.\"\n\nThe goldsmith took a pair of scales, weighed the dish, and after\nhe had mentioned how much an ounce of fine silver cost, assured\nhim that his plate would fetch by weight sixty pieces of gold,\nwhich he offered to pay down immediately. \"If you dispute my\nhonesty,\" said he, \"you may go to any other of our trade, and if\nhe gives you more, I will be bound to forfeit twice as much; for\nwe gain only the fashion of the plate we buy, and that the\nfairest dealing Jews are not contented with.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen thanked him for his fair dealing, so greatly to his\nadvantage, took the gold, and never after went to any other\nperson, but sold him all his dishes and the tray, and had as much\nfor them as the weight came to.\n\nThough Alla ad Deen and his mother had an inexhaustible treasure\nin their lamp, and might have had whatever they wished for, yet\nthey lived with the same frugality as before, except that Alla ad\nDeen dressed better; as for his mother, she wore no clothes but\nwhat she earned by spinning cotton. After their manner of living,\nit may easily be supposed, that the money for which Alla ad Deen\nhad sold the dishes and tray was sufficient to maintain them some\ntime.\n\nDuring this interval, Alla ad Deen frequented the shops of the\nprincipal merchants, where they sold cloth of gold and silver,\nlinens, silk stuffs, and jewellery, and oftentimes joining in\ntheir conversation, acquired a knowledge of the world, and\nrespectable demeanour. By his acquaintance among the jewellers,\nhe came to know that the fruits which he had gathered when he\ntook the lamp were, instead of coloured glass, stones of\ninestimable value; but he had the prudence not to mention this to\nany one, not even to his mother.\n\nOne day as Alla ad Deen was walking about the town, he heard an\norder proclaimed, commanding the people to shut up their shops\nand houses, and keep within doors, while the princess Buddir al\nBuddoor, the sultan's daughter, went to the baths and returned.\n\nThis proclamation inspired Alla ad Deen with eager curiosity to\nsee the princess's face, which he could not do without admission\ninto the house of some acquaintance, and then only through a\nwindow; which did not satisfy him, when he considered that the\nprincess, when she went to the baths, would be closely veiled;\nbut to gratify his curiosity, he presently thought of a scheme,\nwhich succeeded; it was to place himself behind the door of the\nbath, which was so situated that he could not fail of seeing her\nface.\n\nAlla ad Deen had not waited long before the princess came, and he\ncould see her plainly through a chink of the door without being\ndiscovered. She was attended by a great crowd of ladies, slaves\nand eunuchs, who walked on each side, and behind her. When she\ncame within three or four paces of the door of the baths, she\ntook off her veil, and gave Alla ad Deen an opportunity of a full\nview.\n\nAs soon as Alla ad Deen had seen the princess, his heart could\nnot withstand those inclinations so charming an object always\ninspires. The princess was the most beautiful brunette in the\nworld; her eyes were large, lively, and sparkling; her looks\nsweet and modest; her nose was of a just proportion and without a\nfault, her mouth small, her lips of a vermilion red and\ncharmingly agreeable symmetry; in a word, all the features of her\nface were perfectly regular. It is not therefore surprising that\nAlla ad Deen, who had never before seen such a blaze of charms,\nwas dazzled, and his senses ravished by such an assemblage. With\nall these perfections the princess had so fine a form, and so\nmajestic an air, that the sight of her was sufficient to inspire\nlove and admiration.\n\nAfter the princess had passed by, and entered the baths, Alla ad\nDeen remained some time astonished, and in a kind of ecstacy,\nretracing and imprinting the idea of so charming an object deeply\nin his mind. But at last, considering that the princess was gone\npast him, and that when she returned from the bath her back would\nbe towards him, and then veiled, he resolved to quit his hiding\nplace and go home. He could not so far conceal his uneasiness but\nthat his mother perceived it, was surprised to see him so much\nmore thoughtful and melancholy than usual; and asked what had\nhappened to make him so, or if he was ill? He returned her no\nanswer, but sat carelessly down on the sofa, and remained silent,\nmusing on the image of the charming Buddir al Buddoor. His\nmother, who was dressing supper, pressed him no more. When it was\nready, she served it up, and perceiving that he gave no attention\nto it, urged him to eat, but had much ado to persuade him to\nchange his place; which when he did, he ate much less than usual,\nall the time cast down his eyes, and observed so profound a\nsilence, that she could not obtain a word in answer to all the\nquestions she put, in order to find the reason of so\nextraordinary an alteration.\n\nAfter supper, she asked him again why he was so melancholy, but\ncould get no information, and he determined to go to bed rather\nthan give her the least satisfaction. Without examining how he\npassed the night, his mind full as it was with the charms of the\nprincess, I shall only observe that as he sat next day on the\nsofa, opposite his mother, as she was spinning cotton, he spoke\nto her in these words: \"I perceive, mother, that my silence\nyesterday has much troubled you; I was not, nor am I sick, as I\nfancy you believed; but I assure you, that what I felt then, and\nnow endure, is worse than any disease. I cannot explain what ails\nme; but doubt not what I am going to relate will inform you.\n\n\"It was not proclaimed in this quarter of the town, and therefore\nyou could know nothing of it, that the sultan's daughter was\nyesterday to go to the baths. I heard this as I walked about the\ntown, and an order was issued that all the shops should be shut\nup in her way thither, and everybody keep within doors, to leave\nthe streets free for her and her attendants. As I was not then\nfar from the bath, I had a great curiosity to see the princess's\nface; and as it occurred to me that the princess, when she came\nnigh the door of the bath, would pull her veil off, I resolved to\nconceal myself behind the door. You know the situation of the\ndoor, and may imagine that I must have had a full view of her.\nThe princess threw off her veil, and I had the happiness of\nseeing her lovely face with the greatest security. This, mother,\nwas the cause of my melancholy and silence yesterday; I love the\nprincess with more violence than I can express; and as my passion\nincreases every moment, I cannot live without the possession of\nthe amiable Buddir al Buddoor, and am resolved to ask her in\nmarriage of the sultan her father.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother listened with surprise to what her son told\nher; but when he talked of asking the princess in marriage, she\ncould not help bursting out into a loud laugh. Alla ad Deen would\nhave gone on with his rhapsody, but she interrupted him. \"Alas!\nchild,\" said she, \"what are you thinking of? you must be mad to\ntalk thus.\"\n\n\"I assure you, mother,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"that I am not mad,\nbut in my right senses; I foresaw that you would reproach me with\nfolly and extravagance; but I must tell you once more that I am\nresolved to demand the princess of the sultan in marriage, and\nyour remonstrances shall not prevent me.\"\n\n\"Indeed, son,\" replied the mother seriously, \"I cannot help\ntelling you that you have forgotten yourself; and if you would\nput this resolution of yours in execution, I do not see whom you\ncan prevail upon to venture to make the proposal for you.\" \"You\nyourself,\" replied he immediately. \"I go to the sultan!\" answered\nthe mother, amazed and surprised. \"I shall be cautious how I\nengage in such an errand. Why, who are you, son,\" continued she,\n\"that you can have the assurance to think of your sultan's\ndaughter? Have you forgotten that your father was one of the\npoorest tailors in the capital, and that I am of no better\nextraction; and do not you know that sultans never marry their\ndaughters but to princes, sons of sovereigns like themselves?\"\n\n\"Mother,\" answered Alla ad Deen, \"I have already told you that I\nforesaw all that you have said, or can say: and tell you again,\nthat neither your discourse nor your remonstrances shall make me\nchange my mind. I have told you that you must ask the princess in\nmarriage for me: it is a favour I desire of you, and I beg of you\nnot to refuse, unless you would rather see me in my grave, than\nby your compliance give me new life.\"\n\nThe good old woman was much embarrassed, when she found Alla ad\nDeen obstinately persisting in so wild a design. \"My son,\" said\nshe again, \"I am your mother, who brought you into the world, and\nthere is nothing that is reasonable but I would readily do for\nyou. If I were to go and treat about your marriage with some\nneighbour's daughter, whose circumstances were equal with yours,\nI would do it with all my heart; and even then they would expect\nyou should have some little estate or fortune, or be of some\ntrade. When such poor folks as we are wish to marry, the first\nthing they ought to think of, is how to live. But without\nreflecting on the meanness of your birth, and the little merit\nand fortune you have to recommend you, you aim at the highest\npitch of exaltation; and your pretensions are no less than to\ndemand in marriage the daughter of your sovereign, who with one\nsingle word can crush you to pieces. I say nothing of what\nrespects yourself. I leave you to reflect on what you have to do,\nif you have ever so little thought. I come now to consider what\nconcerns myself. How could so extraordinary a thought come into\nyour head, as that I should go to the sultan and make a proposal\nto him to give his daughter in marriage to you? Suppose I had,\nnot to say the boldness, but the impudence to present myself\nbefore the sultan, and make so extravagant a request, to whom\nshould I address myself to be introduced to his majesty? Do you\nnot think the first person I should speak to would take me for a\nmad woman, and chastise me as I should deserve? Suppose, however,\nthat there is no difficulty in presenting myself for an audience\nof the sultan, and I know there is none to those who go to\npetition for justice, which he distributes equally among his\nsubjects; I know too that to those who ask a favour he grants it\nwith pleasure when he sees it is deserved, and the persons are\nworthy of it. But is that your case? Do you think you have\nmerited the honour you would have me ask for you? Are you worthy\nof it? What have you done to claim such a favour, either for your\nprince or country? How have you distinguished yourself? If you\nhave done nothing to merit so high a distinction, nor are worthy\nof it, with what face shall I ask it? How can I open my mouth to\nmake the proposal to the sultan? His majestic presence and the\nlustre of his court would absolutely confound me, who used even\nto tremble before my dear husband your father, when I asked him\nfor any thing. There is another reason, my son, which you do not\nthink of, which is that nobody ever goes to ask a favour of the\nsultan without a present. But what presents have you to make? And\nif you had any that were worthy of the least attention of so\ngreat a monarch, what proportion could they bear to the favour\nyou would ask? Therefore, reflect well on what you are about, and\nconsider, that you aspire to an object which it is impossible for\nyou to obtain.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen heard very calmly all that his mother could say to\ndissuade him from his design, and after he had weighed her\nrepresentations in all points, replied: \"I own, mother, it is\ngreat rashness in me to presume to carry my pretensions so far;\nand a great want of consideration to ask you with so much heat\nand precipitancy to go and make the proposal to the sultan,\nwithout first taking proper measures to procure a favourable\nreception, and therefore beg your pardon. But be not surprised\nthat through the violence of my passion I did not at first see\nevery measure necessary to procure me the happiness I seek. I\nlove the princess, or rather I adore her, and shall always\npersevere in my design of marrying her. I am obliged to you for\nthe hint you have given me, and look upon it as the first step I\nought to take to procure the happy issue I promise myself.\n\n\"You say it is not customary to go to the sultan without a\npresent, and that I have nothing worthy of his acceptance. As to\nthe necessity of a present, I agree with you, and own that I\nnever thought of it; but as to what you say that I have nothing\nfit to offer, do not you think, mother, that what I brought home\nwith me the day on which I was delivered from an inevitable\ndeath, may be an acceptable present? I mean what you and I both\ntook for coloured glass: but now I am undeceived, and can tell\nyou that they are jewels of inestimable value, and fit for the\ngreatest monarchs. I know the worth of them by frequenting the\nshops; and you may take my word that all the precious stones\nwhich I saw in the most capital jewellers' possessions were not\nto be compared to those we have, either for size or beauty, and\nyet they value theirs at an excessive price. In short, neither\nyou nor I know the value of ours; but be it as it may, by the\nlittle experience I have, I am persuaded that they will be\nreceived very favourably by the sultan: you have a large\nporcelain dish fit to hold them; fetch it, and let us see how\nthey will look, when we have arranged them according to their\ndifferent colours.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother brought the china dish, when he took the\njewels out of the two purses in which he had kept them, and\nplaced them in order according to his fancy. But the brightness\nand lustre they emitted in the day-time, and the variety of the\ncolours, so dazzled the eyes both of mother and son, that they\nwere astonished beyond measure; for they had only seen them by\nthe light of a lamp; and though the latter had beheld them\npendant on the trees like fruit beautiful to the eye, yet as he\nwas then but a boy, he looked on them only as glittering\nplaythings.\n\nAfter they had admired the beauty of the jewels some time, Alla\nad Deen said to his mother, \"Now you cannot excuse yourself from\ngoing to the sultan, under pretext of not having a present to\nmake him, since here is one which will gain you a favourable\nreception.\"\n\nThough the good widow, notwithstanding the beauty and lustre of\nthe precious stones, did not believe them so valuable as her son\nestimated them, she thought such a present might nevertheless be\nagreeable to the sultan, but still she hesitated at the request.\n\"My son,\" said she, \"I cannot conceive that your present will\nhave its desired effect, or that the sultan will look upon me\nwith a favourable eye; I am sure, that if I attempt to deliver\nyour strange message, I shall have no power to open my mouth;\ntherefore I shall not only lose my labour, but the present, which\nyou say is so invaluable, and shall return home again in\nconfusion, to tell you that your hopes are frustrated. I have\nrepresented the consequence, and you ought to believe me; but,\"\nadded she, \"I will exert my best endeavour to please you, and\nwish I may have power to ask the sultan as you would have me; but\ncertainly he will either laugh at me, send me back like a fool,\nor be in so great a rage, as to make us both the victims of his\nfury.\"\n\nShe used many other arguments to endeavour to make him change his\nmind; but the charms of the princess had made too great an\nimpression on his heart for him to be dissuaded from his design.\nHe persisted in importuning his mother to execute his resolution,\nand she, as much out of tenderness as for fear he should be\nguilty of greater extravagance, complied with his request.\n\nAs it was now late, and the time for admission to the palace was\npassed, it was put off till the next day. The mother and son\ntalked of different matters the remaining part of the day; and\nAlla ad Deen strove to encourage her in the task she had\nundertaken; while she, notwithstanding all his arguments, could\nnot persuade herself she should succeed; and it must be confessed\nshe had reason enough to doubt. \"Child,\" said she to Alla ad\nDeen, \"if the sultan should receive me as favourably as I wish\nfor your sake, should even hear my proposal with calmness, and\nafter this scarcely-to-be-expected reception should think of\nasking me where lie your riches and your estate (for he will\nsooner inquire after these than your person), if, I say, he\nshould ask me these questions, what answer would you have me\nreturn him?\"\n\n\"Let us not be uneasy, mother,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"about what\nmay never happen. First, let us see how the sultan receives, and\nwhat answer he gives you. If it should so fall out, that he\ndesires to be informed of what you mention, I have thought of an\nanswer, and am confident that the lamp which hath supported us so\nlong will not fail me in time of need.\"\n\nThe tailor's widow could not say any thing against what her son\nthen proposed; but reflected that the lamp might be capable of\ndoing greater wonders than just providing victuals for them. This\nconsideration satisfied her, and at the same time removed all the\ndifficulties which might have prevented her from undertaking the\nservice she had promised her son with the sultan. Alla ad Deen,\nwho penetrated into his mother's thoughts, said to her, \"Above\nall things, mother, be sure to keep secret our possession of the\nlamp, for thereon depends the success we have to expect;\" and\nafter this caution, Alla ad Deen and his mother parted to go to\nrest. But violent love, and the great prospect of so immense a\nfortune, had so much possessed the son's thoughts, that he could\nnot repose himself so well as he could have wished. He rose\nbefore day-break, awakened his mother, pressing her to get\nherself dressed to go to the sultan's palace, and to get\nadmittance, if possible, before the grand vizier, the other\nviziers, and the great officers of state went in to take their\nseats in the divan, where the sultan always assisted in person.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother took the china dish, in which they had put\nthe jewels the day before, wrapped in two napkins, one finer than\nthe other, which was tied at the four corners for more easy\ncarriage, and set forward for the sultan's palace. When she came\nto the gates, the grand vizier, the other viziers and most\ndistinguished lords of the court, were just gone in; but,\nnotwithstanding the crowd of people who had business was great,\nshe got into the divan, a spacious hall, the entrance into which\nwas very magnificent. She placed herself just before the sultan,\ngrand vizier, and the great lords, who sat in council, on his\nright and left hand. Several causes were called, according to\ntheir order, pleaded and adjudged, until the time the divan\ngenerally broke up, when the sultan rising, returned to his\napartment, attended by the grand vizier; the other viziers and\nministers of state then retired, as also did those whose business\nhad called them thither; some pleased with gaining their causes,\nothers dissatisfied at the sentences pronounced against them, and\nsome in expectation of theirs being heard the next sitting.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother, seeing the sultan retire, and all the\npeople depart, judged rightly that he would not sit again that\nday, and resolved to go home. When Alla ad Deen saw her return\nwith the present designed for the sultan, he knew not what to\nthink of her success, and in his fear lest she should bring him\nsome ill news, had not courage to ask her any questions; but she,\nwho had never set foot in the sultan's palace before, and knew\nnot what was every day practised there, freed him from his\nembarrassment, and said to him, with a great deal of simplicity,\n\"Son, I have seen the sultan, and am very well persuaded he has\nseen me too; for I placed myself just before him; but he was so\nmuch taken up with those who attended on all sides of him, that I\npitied him, and wondered at his patience. At last I believe he\nwas heartily tired, for he rose up suddenly, and would not hear a\ngreat many who were ready prepared to speak to him, but went\naway, at which I was well pleased, for indeed I began to lose all\npatience, and was extremely fatigued with staying so long. But\nthere is no harm done; I will go again to-morrow; perhaps the\nsultan may not be so busy.\"\n\nThough his passion was very violent, Alla ad Deen was forced to\nbe satisfied with this delay, and to fortify himself with\npatience. He had at least the satisfaction to find that his\nmother had got over the greatest difficulty, which was to procure\naccess to the sultan, and hoped that the example of those she saw\nspeak to him would embolden her to acquit herself better of her\ncommission when a favourable opportunity might offer to speak to\nhim.\n\nThe next morning she repaired to the sultan's palace with the\npresent, as early as the day before, but when she came there, she\nfound the gates of the divan shut, and understood that the\ncouncil sat but every other day, therefore she must come again\nthe next. This news she carried to her son, whose only relief was\nto guard himself with patience. She went six times afterwards on\nthe days appointed, placed herself always directly before the\nsultan, but with as little success as the first morning, and\nmight have perhaps come a thousand times to as little purpose, if\nluckily the sultan himself had not taken particular notice of\nher: for only those who came with petitions approached the\nsultan, when each pleaded their cause in its turn, and Alla ad\nDeen's mother was not one of them.\n\nOn the sixth day, however, after the divan was broken up, when\nthe sultan returned to his own apartment, he said to his grand\nvizier, \"I have for some time observed a certain woman, who\nattends constantly every day that I give audience, with something\nwrapped up in a napkin: she always stands up from the beginning\nto the breaking up of the audience, and affects to place herself\njust before me. Do you know what she wants?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the grand vizier, who knew no more than the sultan\nwhat she wanted, but did not wish to seem uninformed, \"your\nmajesty knows that women often make complaints on trifles;\nperhaps she may come to complain to your majesty that somebody\nhas sold her some bad flour, or some such trifling matter.\" The\nsultan was not satisfied with this answer, but replied, \"If this\nwoman comes to our next audience, do not fail to call her, that I\nmay hear what she has to say.\" The grand vizier made answer by\nlowering his hand, and then lifting it up above his head,\nsignifying his willingness to lose it if he failed.\n\nBy this time, the tailor's widow was so much used to go to\naudience, and stand before the sultan, that she did not think it\nany trouble, if she could but satisfy her son that she neglected\nnothing that lay in her power to please him: the next audience\nday she went to the divan, placed herself in front of the sultan\nas usual; and before the grand vizier had made his report of\nbusiness, the sultan perceived her, and compassionating her for\nhaving waited so long, said to the vizier, \"Before you enter upon\nany business, remember the woman I spoke to you about; bid her\ncome near, and let us hear and dispatch her business first.\" The\ngrand vizier immediately called the chief of the mace-bearers who\nstood ready to obey his commands; and pointing to her, bade him\ngo to that woman, and tell her to come before the sultan.\n\nThe chief of the officers went to Alla ad Deen's mother, and at a\nsign he gave her, she followed him to the foot of the sultan's\nthrone, where he left her, and retired to his place by the grand\nvizier. The old woman, after the example of others whom she saw\nsalute the sultan, bowed her head down to the carpet, which\ncovered the platform of the throne, and remained in that posture\ntill the sultan bade her rise, which she had no sooner done, than\nhe said to her, \"Good woman, I have observed you to stand a long\ntime, from the beginning to the rising of the divan; what\nbusiness brings you here?\"\n\nAfter these words, Alla ad Deen's mother prostrated herself a\nsecond time; and when she arose, said, \"Monarch of monarchs,\nbefore I tell your majesty the extraordinary and almost\nincredible business which brings me before your high throne, I\nbeg of you to pardon the boldness or rather impudence of the\ndemand I am going to make, which is so uncommon, that I tremble,\nand am ashamed to propose it to my sovereign.\" In order to give\nher the more freedom to explain herself, the sultan ordered all\nto quit the divan but the grand vizier, and then told her she\nmight speak without restraint.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother, not content with this favour of the\nsultan's to save her the trouble and confusion of speaking before\nso many people, was notwithstanding for securing herself against\nhis anger, which, from the proposal she was going to make, she\nwas not a little apprehensive of; therefore resuming her\ndiscourse, she said, \"I beg of your majesty, if you should think\nmy demand the least injurious or offensive, to assure me first of\nyour pardon and forgiveness.\" \"Well,\" replied the sultan, \"I will\nforgive you, be it what it may, and no hurt shall come to you:\nspeak boldly.\"\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen's mother had taken all these precautions, for\nfear of the sultan's anger, she told him faithfully how Alla ad\nDeen had seen the princess Buddir al Buddoor, the violent love\nthat fatal sight had inspired him with, the declaration he had\nmade to her of it when he came home, and what representations she\nhad made \"to dissuade him from a passion no less disrespectful,\"\nsaid she, \"to your majesty, as sultan, than to the princess your\ndaughter. But,\" continued she, \"my son, instead of taking my\nadvice and reflecting on his presumption, was so obstinate as to\npersevere, and to threaten me with some desperate act, if I\nrefused to come and ask the princess in marriage of your majesty;\nand it was not without the greatest reluctance that I was led to\naccede to his request, for which I beg your majesty once more to\npardon not only me, but also Alla ad Deen my son, for\nentertaining so rash a project as to aspire to so high an\nalliance.\"\n\nThe sultan hearkened to this discourse with mildness, and without\nshewing the least anger; but before he gave her any answer, asked\nher what she had brought tied up in the napkin. She took the\nchina dish, which she had set down at the foot of the throne,\nbefore she prostrated herself before him; untied it, and\npresented it to the sultan.\n\nThe sultan's amazement and surprise were inexpressible, when he\nsaw so many large, beautiful, and valuable jewels collected in\nthe dish. He remained for some time motionless with admiration.\nAt last, when he had recovered himself, he received the present\nfrom Alla ad Deen's mother's hand, crying out in a transport of\njoy, \"How rich, how beautiful!\" After he had admired and handled\nall the jewels, one after another, he turned to his grand vizier,\nand shewing him the dish, said, \"Behold, admire, wonder, and\nconfess that your eyes never beheld jewels so rich and beautiful\nbefore.\" The vizier was charmed. \"Well,\" continued the sultan,\n\"what sayst thou to such a present? Is it not worthy of the\nprincess my daughter? And ought I not to bestow her on one who\nvalues her at so great price?\"\n\nThese words put the grand vizier into extreme agitation. The\nsultan had some time before signified to him his intention of\nbestowing the princess on a son of his; therefore he was afraid,\nand not without grounds, that the sultan, dazzled by so rich and\nextraordinary a present, might change his mind. Therefore going\nto him, and whispering him in the ear, he said, \"I cannot but own\nthat the present is worthy of the princess; but I beg of your\nmajesty to grant me three months before you come to a final\nresolution. I hope, before that time, my son, on whom you have\nhad the goodness to look with a favourable eye, will be able to\nmake a nobler present than Alla ad Deen, who is an entire\nstranger to Your majesty.\"\n\nThe sultan, though he was fully persuaded that it was not\npossible for the vizier to provide so considerable a present for\nhis son to make the princess, yet as he had given him hopes,\nhearkened to him, and granted his request. Turning therefore to\nthe old widow, he said to her, \"Good woman, go home, and tell\nyour son that I agree to the proposal you have made me; but I\ncannot marry the princess my daughter, till the paraphernalia I\ndesign for her be got ready, which cannot be finished these three\nmonths; but at the expiration of that time come again.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother returned home much more gratified than she\nhad expected, since she had met with a favourable answer, instead\nof the refusal and confusion she had dreaded. From two\ncircumstances Alla ad Deen, when he saw his mother returning,\njudged that she brought him good news; the one was, that she\nreturned sooner than ordinary; and the other, the gaiety of her\ncountenance. \"Well, mother,\" said he, \"may I entertain any hopes,\nor must I die with despair?\" When she had pulled off her veil,\nand had seated herself on the sofa by him, she said to him, \"Not\nto keep you long in suspense, son, I will begin by telling you,\nthat instead of thinking of dying, you have every reason to be\nwell satisfied.\" Then pursuing her discourse, she told him, that\nshe had an audience before everybody else which made her come\nhome so soon; the precautions she had taken lest she should have\ndispleased the sultan, by making the proposal of marriage between\nhim and the princess Buddir al Buddoor, and the condescending\nanswer she had received from the sultan's own mouth; and that as\nfar as she could judge, the present had wrought a powerful\neffect. \"But when I least expected it,\" said she, \"and he was\ngoing to give me an answer, and I fancied a favourable one, the\ngrand vizier whispered him in the ear, and I was afraid might be\nsome obstacle to his good intentions towards us, and so it\nhappened, for the sultan desired me to come to audience again\nthis day three months.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen thought himself the most happy of all men at hearing\nthis news, and thanked his mother for the pains she had taken in\nthe affair, the good success of which was of so great importance\nto his peace. Though from his impatience to obtain the object of\nhis passion, three months seemed an age, yet he disposed himself\nto wait with patience, relying on the sultan's word, which he\nlooked upon to be irrevocable. But all that time he not only\ncounted the hours, days, and weeks, but every moment. When two of\nthe three months were past, his mother one evening going to light\nthe lamp, and finding no oil in the house, went out to buy some,\nand when she came into the city, found a general rejoicing. The\nshops, instead of being shut up, were open, dressed with foliage,\nsilks, and carpeting, every one striving to show their zeal in\nthe most distinguished manner according to his ability. The\nstreets were crowded with officers in habits of ceremony, mounted\non horses richly caparisoned, each attended by a great many\nfootmen. Alla ad Deen's mother asked the oil-merchant what was\nthe meaning of all this preparation of public festivity.\" Whence\ncame you, good woman,\" said he, \"that you don't know that the\ngrand vizier's son is to marry the princess Buddir al Buddoor,\nthe sultan's daughter, to-night? She will presently return from\nthe baths; and these officers whom you see are to assist at the\ncavalcade to the palace, where the ceremony is to be solemnized.\"\n\nThis was news enough for Alla ad Deen's mother. She ran till she\nwas quite out of breath home to her son, who little suspected any\nsuch event. \"Child,\" cried she, \"you are undone! You depend upon\nthe sultan's fine promises, but they will come to nothing.\" Alla\nad Deen was alarmed at these words. \"Mother,\" replied he, \"how do\nyou know the sultan has been guilty of a breach of promise?\"\n\"This night,\" answered the mother, \"the grand vizier's son is to\nmarry the princess Buddir al Buddoor.\" She then related how she\nhad heard it; so that from all circumstances, he had no reason to\ndoubt the truth of what she said.\n\nAt this account, Alla ad Deen was thunder-struck. Any other man\nwould have sunk under the shock; but a sudden hope of\ndisappointing his rival soon roused his spirits, and he bethought\nhimself of the lamp, which had on every emergence been so useful\nto him; and without venting his rage in empty words against the\nsultan, the vizier, or his son, he only said, \"Perhaps, mother,\nthe vizier's son may not be so happy to-night as he promises\nhimself: while I go into my chamber a moment, do you get supper\nready.\" She accordingly went about it, but guessed that her son\nwas going to make use of the lamp, to prevent, if possible, the\nconsummation of the marriage.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen had got into his chamber, he took the lamp,\nrubbed it in the same place as before, when immediately the genie\nappeared, and said to him, \"What wouldst thou have? I am ready to\nobey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those who have that\nlamp in their possession; I and the other slaves of the lamp.\"\n\"Hear me,\" said Alla ad Deen; \"thou hast hitherto brought me\nwhatever I wanted as to provisions; but now I have business of\nthe greatest importance for thee to execute. I have demanded the\nprincess Buddir al Buddoor in marriage of the sultan her father;\nhe promised her to me, only requiring three months delay; but\ninstead of keeping that promise, has this night married her to\nthe grand vizier's son. What I ask of you is, that as soon as the\nbride and bridegroom are retired, you bring them both hither in\ntheir bed.\" \"Master,\" replied the genie, \"I will obey you. Have\nyou any other commands?\" \"None at present,\" answered Alla ad\nDeen; the genie then disappeared.\n\nAlla ad Deen having left his chamber, supped with his mother,\nwith the same tranquillity of mind as usual; and after supper\ntalked of the princess's marriage as of an affair wherein he had\nnot the least concern'; he then retired to his own chamber again,\nand left his mother to go to bed; but sat up waiting the\nexecution of his orders to the genie.\n\nIn the meantime, everything was prepared with the greatest\nmagnificence in the sultan's palace to celebrate the princess's\nnuptials; and the evening was spent with all the usual ceremonies\nand great rejoicings till midnight, when the grand vizier's son,\non a signal given him by the chief of the princess's eunuchs,\nslipped away from the company, and was introduced by that officer\ninto the princess's apartment, where the nuptial bed was\nprepared. He went to bed first, and in a little time after, the\nsultaness, accompanied by her own women, and those of the\nprincess, brought the bride, who, according to the custom of new-\nmarried ladies, made great resistance. The sultaness herself\nhelped to undress her, put her into bed by a kind of violence:\nand after having kissed her, and wished her good night, retired\nwith the women to her own apartments.\n\nNo sooner was the door shut, than the genie, as the faithful\nslave of the lamp, and punctual in executing the command of those\nwho possessed it, without giving the bridegroom the least time to\ncaress his bride, to the great amazement of them both, took up\nthe bed, and transported it in an instant into Alla ad Deen's\nchamber, where he set it down.\n\nAlla ad Deen, who had waited impatiently for this moment, did not\nsuffer the vizier's son to remain long in bed with the princess.\n\"Take this new-married man,\" said he to the genie, \"shut him up\nin the out-house, and come again tomorrow morning before day-\nbreak.\" The genie instantly forced the vizier's son out of bed,\ncarried him whither Alla ad Deen had commanded him; and after he\nhad breathed upon him, which prevented him stirring, left him\nthere.\n\nPassionate as was Alla ad Deen's love for the princess, he did\nnot talk much to her when they were alone; but only said with a\nrespectful air, \"Fear nothing, adorable princess, you are here in\nsafety; for, notwithstanding the violence of my passion, which\nyour charms have kindled, it shall never exceed the bounds of the\nprofound adoration I owe you. If I have been forced to come to\nthis extremity, it is not with any intention of affronting you,\nbut to prevent an unjust rival's possessing you, contrary to the\nsultan your father's promise in favour of myself.\"\n\nThe princess, who knew nothing of these particulars, gave very\nlittle attention to what Alla ad Deen could say. The fright and\namazement of so surprising and unexpected an adventure had\nalarmed her so much that he could not get one word from her.\nHowever, he undressed himself, took the bridegroom's place, but\nlay with his back to the princess, putting a sabre between\nhimself and her, to shew that he deserved to be put to death, if\nhe attempted anything against her honour. Alla ad Deen, satisfied\nwith having thus deprived his rival of the happiness he had\nflattered himself with, slept very soundly, though the princess\nBuddir al Buddoor never passed a night so ill in her life; and if\nwe consider the condition in which the genie left the grand\nvizier's son, we may imagine that the new bridegroom spent it\nmuch worse.\n\nAlla ad Deen had no occasion the next morning to rub the lamp to\ncall the genie; who appeared at the hour appointed, just when he\nhad done dressing himself, and said to him, \"I am here, master,\nwhat are your commands?\" \"Go,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"fetch the\nvizier's son out of the place where you left him, put him into\nhis bed again, and carry it to the sultan's palace, from whence\nyou brought it.\" The genie presently returned with the vizier's\nson. Alla ad Deen took up his sabre, the bridegroom was laid by\nthe princess, and in an instant the nuptial-bed was transported\ninto the same chamber of the palace from whence it had been\nbrought. But we must observe, that all this time the genie never\nwas visible either to the princess or the grand vizier's son. His\nhideous form would have made them die with fear. Neither did they\nhear any thing of the discourse between Alla ad Deen and him;\nthey only perceived the motion of the bed, and their\ntransportation from one place to another; which we may well\nimagine was enough to alarm them.\n\nAs soon as the genie had set down the nuptial bed in its proper\nplace, the sultan tapped at the door to wish her good morning.\nThe grand vizier's son, who was almost perished with cold, by\nstanding in his thin under garment all night, and had not had\ntime to warm himself in bed, no sooner heard the knocking at the\ndoor than he got out of bed, and ran into the robing-chamber,\nwhere he had undressed himself the night before.\n\nThe sultan having opened the door, went to the bed-side, kissed\nthe princess between the eyes, according to custom, wishing her a\ngood morrow, but was extremely surprised to see her so\nmelancholy. She only cast at him a sorrowful look, expressive of\ngreat affliction or great dissatisfaction. He said a few words to\nher; but finding that he could not get a word from her,\nattributed it to her modesty, and retired. Nevertheless, he\nsuspected that there was something extraordinary in this silence,\nand thereupon went immediately to the sultaness's apartment, told\nher in what a state he had found the princess, and how she had\nreceived him. \"Sir,\" said the sultaness, \"your majesty ought not\nto be surprised at this behaviour; new-married people have\nnaturally a reserve about them; two or three days hence she will\nreceive the sultan her father as she ought: but I will go and see\nher,\" added she; \"I am much deceived if she receives me in the\nsame manner.\"\n\nAs soon as the sultaness was dressed, she went to the princess's\napartment, who was still in bed. She undrew the curtain, wished\nher good morrow, and kissed her. But how great was her surprise\nwhen she returned no answer; and looking more attentively at her,\nshe perceived her to be much dejected, which made her judge that\nsomething had happened, which she did not understand \"How comes\nit, child,\" said the sultaness, \"that you do not return my\ncaresses? Ought you to treat your mother after this manner? I am\ninduced to believe something extraordinary has happened; come,\ntell me freely, and leave me no longer in a painful suspense.\"\n\nAt last the princess broke silence with a deep sigh, and said,\n\"Alas! most honoured mother, forgive me if I have failed in the\nrespect I owe you. My mind is so full of the extraordinary\ncircumstances which have befallen me this night, that I have not\nyet recovered my amazement and alarm.\" She then told her, how the\ninstant after she and her husband were together, the bed was\ntransported into a dark dirty room, where he was taken from her\nand carried away, but where she knew not; and that she was left\nalone with a young man, who, after he had said something to her,\nwhich her fright did not suffer her to hear, laid himself in her\nhusband's place, but first put his sabre between them; and in the\nmorning her husband was brought to her again, when the bed was\ntransported back to her own chamber in an instant. \"All this,\"\nsaid she, \"was but just done, when the sultan my father came into\nmy chamber. I was so overwhelmed with grief, that I had not power\nto speak, and am afraid that he is offended at the manner in\nwhich I received the honour he did me; but I hope he will forgive\nme, when he knows my melancholy adventure, and the miserable\nstate I am in at present.\"\n\nThe sultaness heard all the princess told her very patiently, but\nwould not believe it. \"You did well, child,\" said she, \"not to\nspeak of this to your father: take care not to mention it to\nanybody; for you will certainly be thought mad if you talk in\nthis manner.\" \"Madam,\" replied the princess, \"I can assure you I\nam in my right senses; ask my husband, and he will tell you the\nsame circumstances.\" \"I will,\" said the sultaness, \"but if he\nshould talk in the same manner, I shall not be better persuaded\nof the truth. Come, rise, and throw off this idle fancy; it will\nbe a strange event, if all the feasts and rejoicings in the\nkingdom should be interrupted by such a vision. Do not you hear\nthe trumpets of congratulation, and concerts of the finest music?\nCannot these inspire you with joy and pleasure, and make you\nforget the fancies of an imagination disturbed by what can have\nbeen only a dream?\" At the same time the sultaness called the\nprincess's women, and after she had seen her get up, and begin\ndressing, went to the sultan's apartment, told him that her\ndaughter had got some odd notions in her head, but that there was\nnothing in them but idle phantasy.\n\nShe then sent for the vizier's son, to know of him something of\nwhat the princess had told her; but he, thinking himself highly\nhonoured to be allied to the sultan, and not willing to lose the\nprincess, denied what had happened. \"That is enough,\" answered\nthe sultaness, \"I ask no more, I see you are wiser than my\ndaughter.\"\n\nThe rejoicings lasted all that day in the palace, and the\nsultaness, who never left the princess, forgot nothing to divert\nher, and induce her to take part in the various diversions and\nshows; but she was so struck with the idea of what had happened\nto her in the night, that it was easy to see her thoughts were\nentirely taken up with it. Neither was the grand vizier's son in\nless tribulation, though his ambition made him disguise his\nfeelings so well, that nobody doubted of his being a happy\nbridegroom.\n\nAlla ad Deen, who was well acquainted with what passed in the\npalace, was sure the new-married couple were to sleep together\nagain, notwithstanding the troublesome adventure of the night\nbefore; and therefore, having as great an inclination to disturb\nthem, had recourse to his lamp, and when the genie appeared, and\noffered his service, he said to him, \"The grand vizier's son and\nthe princess Buddir al Buddoor are to sleep together again to-\nnight: go, and as soon as they are in bed, bring the bed hither,\nas thou didst yesterday.\"\n\nThe genie obeyed as faithfully and exactly as the day before; the\ngrand vizier's son passed the night as coldly and disagreeably,\nand the princess had the mortification again to have Alla ad Deen\nfor her bed-fellow, with the sabre between them. The genie,\naccording to orders, came the next morning, brought the\nbridegroom, laid him by his bride, and then carried the bed and\nnew-married couple back again to the palace.\n\nThe sultan, after the reception the princess had given him, was\nvery anxious to know how she had passed the second night, and\ntherefore went into her chamber as early as the morning before.\nThe grand vizier's son, more ashamed and mortified with the ill\nsuccess of this last night, no sooner heard him coming, than he\njumped out of bed, and ran hastily into the robing-chamber. The\nsultan went to the princess's bed-side, and after the same\ncaresses he had given her the former morning, bade her good\nmorrow. \"Well daughter,\" said he, \"are you in a better humour\nthan yesterday?\" Still the princess was silent, and the sultan\nperceiving her to be more troubled, and in greater confusion than\nbefore, doubted not that something very extraordinary was the\ncause; but provoked that his daughter should conceal it, he said\nto her in a rage, with his sabre in his hand, \"Daughter, tell me\nwhat is the matter, or I will cut off your head immediately.\"\n\nThe princess, more frightened at the menaces and tone of the\nenraged sultan than at the sight of the drawn sabre, at last\nbroke silence, and said with tears in her eyes, \"My dear father\nand sultan, I ask your majesty's pardon if I have offended you,\nand hope, that out of your goodness and clemency you will have\ncompassion on me, when I shall have told you in what a miserable\ncondition I have spent this last night, as well as the\npreceding.\"\n\nAfter this preamble, which appeased and affected the sultan, she\ntold him what had happened to her in so moving a manner, that he,\nwho loved her tenderly, was most sensibly grieved. She added, \"If\nyour majesty doubts the truth of this account, you may inform\nyourself from my husband, who, I am persuaded, will tell you the\nsame thing.\"\n\nThe sultan immediately felt all the extreme uneasiness so\nsurprising an adventure must have given the princess. \"Daughter,\"\nsaid he, \"you are much to blame for not telling me this\nyesterday, since it concerns me as much as yourself. I did not\nmarry you with an intention to make you miserable, but that you\nmight enjoy all the happiness you deserve and might hope for from\na husband who to me seemed agreeable to you. Efface all these\ntroublesome ideas from your memory; I will take care that you\nshall have no more disagreeable and insupportable nights.\"\n\nAs soon as the sultan had returned to his own apartment, he sent\nfor the grand vizier: \"Vizier,\" said he, \"have you seen your son,\nand has he told you anything?\" The vizier replied, \"No.\" The\nsultan related all the circumstances of which the princess had\ninformed him, and afterwards said, \"I do not doubt but that my\ndaughter has told me the truth; but nevertheless I should be glad\nto have it confirmed by your son, therefore go and ask him how it\nwas.\"\n\nThe grand vizier went immediately to his son, communicated what\nthe sultan had told him, and enjoined him to conceal nothing, but\nto relate the whole truth. \"I will disguise nothing from you,\nfather,\" replied the son, \"for indeed all that the princess has\nstated is true; but what relates particularly to myself she knows\nnothing of. Since my marriage, I have passed two nights beyond\nimagination or expression disagreeable, not to mention the fright\nI was in at finding my bed lifted four times, transported from\none place to another, without being able to guess how it was\ndone. You may judge of the miserable condition I was in, passing\ntwo whole nights in nothing but my under vestments, standing in a\nkind of closet, unable to stir out of the place or to make the\nleast movement, though I could not perceive any obstacle to\nprevent me. Yet I must tell you, that all this ill usage does not\nin the least lessen those sentiments of love, respect, and\ngratitude I entertain for the princess, and of which she is so\ndeserving; but I must confess, that notwithstanding all the\nhonour and splendour that attends marrying my sovereign's\ndaughter, I would much rather die, than continue in so exalted an\nalliance if I must undergo nightly much longer what I have\nalready endured. I do not doubt but that the princess entertains\nthe same sentiments, and that she will readily agree to a\nseparation, which is so necessary both for her repose and mine.\nTherefore, father, I beg, by the same tenderness which led you to\nprocure me so great an honour, to obtain the sultan's consent\nthat our marriage may be declared null and void.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the grand vizier's ambition to have his son\nallied to the sultan, the firm resolution he saw he had formed to\nbe separated from the princess made him not think it proper to\npropose to him to have patience for a few days, to see if this\ndisappointment would not have an end; but he left him to give an\naccount of what he had related to him, and without waiting till\nthe sultan himself, whom he found disposed to it, spoke of\nsetting aside the marriage, he begged of him to give his son\nleave to retire from the palace, alleging it was not just that\nthe princess should be a moment longer exposed to so terrible a\npersecution upon his son's account.\n\nThe grand vizier found no great difficulty to obtain what he\nasked, as the sultan had determined already; orders were given to\nput a stop to all rejoicings in the palace and town, and\nexpresses dispatched to all parts of his dominions to countermand\nthem; and, in a short time, all rejoicings ceased.\n\nThis sudden and unexpected change gave rise both in the city and\nkingdom to various speculations and inquiries; but no other\naccount could be given of it, except that both the vizier and his\nson went out of the palace very much dejected. Nobody but Alla ad\nDeen knew the secret. He rejoiced within himself at the happy\nsuccess procured by his lamp, which now he had no more occasion\nto rub, to produce the genie to prevent the consummation of the\nmarriage, as he had certain information it was broken off, and\nthat his rival had left the palace. Neither the sultan nor the\ngrand vizier, who had forgotten Alla ad Deen and his request, had\nthe least thought that he had any concern in the enchantment\nwhich caused the dissolution of the marriage.\n\nAlla ad Deen waited till the three months were completed, which\nthe sultan had appointed for the consummation of the marriage\nbetween the princess Buddir al Buddoor and himself; and the next\nday sent his mother to the palace, to remind the sultan of his\npromise.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother went to the palace, and stood in the same\nplace as before in the hall of audience. The sultan no sooner\ncast his eyes upon her than he knew her again, remembered her\nbusiness, and how long he had put her off: therefore when the\ngrand vizier was beginning to make his report, the sultan\ninterrupted him, and said, \"Vizier, I see the good woman who made\nme the present of jewels some months ago; forbear your report,\ntill I have heard what she has to say.\" The vizier looking about\nthe divan, perceived the tailor's widow, and sent the chief of\nthe mace-bearers to conduct her to the sultan.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother came to the foot of the throne, prostrated\nherself as usual, and when she rose, the sultan asked her what\nshe would have. Sir,\" said she, \"I come to represent to your\nmajesty, in the name of my son Alla ad Deen, that the three\nmonths, at the end of which you ordered me to come again, are\nexpired; and to beg you to remember your promise.\"\n\nThe sultan, when he had fixed a time to answer the request of\nthis good woman, little thought of hearing any more of a\nmarriage, which he imagined must be very disagreeable to the\nprincess, when he considered the meanness and poverty of her\ndress and appearance; but this summons for him to fulfill his\npromise was somewhat embarrassing; he declined giving an answer\ntill he had consulted his vizier, and signified to trim the\nlittle inclination he had to conclude a match for his daughter\nwith a stranger, whose rank he supposed to be very mean.\n\nThe grand vizier freely told the sultan his thoughts, and said to\nhim, \"In my opinion, sir, there is an infallible way for your\nmajesty to avoid a match so disproportionable, without giving\nAlla ad Deen, were he known to your majesty, any cause of\ncomplaint; which is, to set so high a price upon the princess,\nthat, however rich he may be, he cannot comply with. This is the\nonly evasion to make him desist from so bold, not to say rash, an\nundertaking, which he never weighed before he engaged in it.\"\n\nThe sultan, approving of the grand vizier's advice, turned to the\ntailor's widow, and said to her, \"Good woman, it is true sultans\nought to abide by their word, and I am ready to keep mine, by\nmaking your son happy in marriage with the princess my daughter.\nBut as I cannot marry her without some further valuable\nconsideration from your son, you may tell him, I will fulfill my\npromise as soon as he shall send me forty trays of massive gold,\nfull of the same sort of jewels you have already made me a\npresent of, and carried by the like number of black slaves, who\nshall be led by as many young and handsome white slaves, all\ndressed magnificently. On these conditions I am ready to bestow\nthe princess my daughter upon him; therefore, good woman, go and\ntell him so, and I will wait till you bring me his answer.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother prostrated herself a second time before the\nsultan's throne, and retired. In her way home, she laughed within\nherself at her son's foolish imagination. \"Where,\" says she, \"can\nhe get so many large gold trays, and such precious stones to fill\nthem? Must he go again to that subterraneous abode, the entrance\ninto which is stopped up, and gather them off the trees? But\nwhere will he get so many such slaves as the sultan requires? It\nis altogether out of his power, and I believe he will not be much\npleased with my embassy this time.\" When she came home, full of\nthese thoughts, she said to her son, \"Indeed, child, I would not\nhave you think any farther of your marriage with the princess.\nThe sultan received me very kindly, and I believe he was well\ninclined to you; but if I am not much deceived the grand vizier\nhas made him change his mind, as you will guess from what I have\nto tell you. After I had represented to his majesty that the\nthree months were expired, and begged of him to remember his\npromise, I observed that he whispered with his grand vizier\nbefore he gave me his answer.\" She then gave her son an exact\naccount of what the sultan had said to her, and the conditions on\nwhich he consented to the match. Afterwards she said to him, \"The\nsultan expects your answer immediately; but,\" continued she,\nlaughing, \"I believe he may wait long enough.\"\n\n\"Not so long, mother, as you imagine,\" replied Alla ad Deen: \"the\nsultan is mistaken, if he thinks by this exorbitant demand to\nprevent my entertaining thoughts of the princess. I expected\ngreater difficulties, and that he would have set a higher price\nupon her incomparable charms. I am very well pleased; his demand\nis but a trifle to what I could have done for her. But while I\nthink of satisfying his request, go and get something for our\ndinner, and leave the rest to me.\"\n\nAs soon as his mother was gone out to market, Alla ad Deen took\nthe lamp, and rubbing it, the genie appeared, and offered his\nservice as usual. \"The sultan,\" said Alla ad Deen to him, \"gives\nme the princess his daughter in marriage; but demands first forty\nlarge trays of massive gold, full of the fruits of the garden\nfrom whence I took this lamp; and these he expects to have\ncarried by as many black slaves, each preceded by a young\nhandsome white slave, richly clothed. Go, and fetch me this\npresent as soon as possible, that I may send it to him before the\ndivan breaks up.\"\n\nThe genie told him his command should be immediately obeyed, and\ndisappeared.\n\nIn a little time afterwards the genie returned with forty black\nslaves, each bearing on his head a heavy tray of pure gold, full\nof pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and every sort of precious\nstones, all larger and more beautiful than those presented to the\nsultan. Each tray was covered with silver tissue, embroidered\nwith flowers of gold; these, together with the white slaves,\nquite filled the house, which was but a small one, the little\ncourt before it, and a small garden behind. The genie asked if he\nhad any other commands, and Alla ad Deen telling him that he\nwanted nothing farther, he disappeared.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen's mother came from market, she was much\nsurprised to see so many people and such vast riches. As soon as\nshe had laid down her provisions, she was going to pull off her\nveil; but he prevented her, and said, \"Mother, let us lose no\ntime; before the sultan and the divan rise, I would have you\nreturn to the palace with this present as the dowry demanded for\nthe princess, that he may judge by my diligence and exactness of\nthe ardent and sincere desire I have to procure myself the honour\nof this alliance.\" Without waiting for his mother's reply, Alla\nad Deen opened the street-door, and made the slaves walk out;\neach white slave followed by a black with a tray upon his head.\nWhen they were all out, the mother followed the last black slave;\nhe shut the door, and then retired to his chamber, full of hopes\nthat the sultan, after this present, which was such as he\nrequired, would receive him as his son-in-law.\n\nThe first white slave who went out made all the people who were\ngoing by stop; and before they were all clear of the house, the\nstreets were crowded with spectators, who ran to see so\nextraordinary and magnificent a procession. The dress of each\nslave was so rich, both for the stuff and the jewels, that those\nwho were dealers in them valued each at no less than a million of\nmoney; besides the neatness and propriety of the dress, the noble\nair, fine shape and proportion of each slave were unparalleled;\ntheir grave walk at an equal distance from each other, the lustre\nof the jewels curiously set in their girdles of gold, in\nbeautiful symmetry, and the egrets of precious stones in their\nturbans, which were of an unusual but elegant taste, put the\nspectators into such great admiration, that they could not avoid\ngazing at them, and following them with their eyes as far as\npossible; but the streets were so crowded with people, that none\ncould move out of the spot they stood on. As they had to pass\nthrough several streets to the palace, a great part of the city\nhad an opportunity of seeing them. As soon as the first of these\nslaves arrived at the palace gate, the porters formed themselves\ninto order, taking him for a prince from the richness and\nmagnificence of his habit, and were going to kiss the hem of his\ngarment; but the slave, who was instructed by the genie,\nprevented them, and said, \"We are only slaves, our master will\nappear at a proper time.\"\n\nThe first slave, followed by the rest, advanced into the second\ncourt, which was very spacious, and in which the sultan's\nhousehold was ranged during the sitting of the divan. The\nmagnificence of the officers, who stood at the head of their\ntroops, was considerably eclipsed by the slaves who bore Alla ad\nDeen's present, of which they themselves made a part. Nothing was\never seen so beautiful and brilliant in the sultan's palace; and\nall the lustre of the lords of his court was not to be compared\nto them.\n\nAs the sultan, who had been informed of their march, and approach\nto the palace, had given orders for them to be admitted, they met\nwith no obstacle, but went into the divan in regular order, one\npart filing to the right, and the other to the left. After they\nwere all entered, and had formed a semicircle before the sultan's\nthrone, the black slaves laid the golden trays on the carpet,\nprostrated themselves, touching the carpet with their foreheads,\nand at the same time the white slaves did the same. When they\nrose, the black slaves uncovered the trays, and then all stood\nwith their arms crossed over their breasts.\n\nIn the meantime Alla ad Deen's mother advanced to the foot of the\nthrone, and having paid her respects, said to the sultan, \"Sir,\nmy son is sensible this present, which he has sent your majesty,\nis much below the princess Buddir al Buddoor's worth; but hopes,\nnevertheless, that your majesty will accept of it, and make it\nagreeable to the princess, and with the greater confidence since\nhe has endeavoured to conform to the conditions you were pleased\nto impose.\"\n\nThe sultan was not able to give the least attention to this\ncompliment. The moment he cast his eyes on the forty trays, full\nof the most precious, brilliant, and beautiful jewels he had ever\nseen, and the fourscore slaves, who appeared by the elegance of\ntheir persons, and the richness and magnificence of their dress,\nlike so many princes, he was so struck, that he could not recover\nfrom his admiration. Instead of answering the compliment of Alla\nad Deen's mother, he addressed himself to the grand vizier, who\ncould not any more than the sultan comprehend from whence such a\nprofusion of richness could come. \"Well, vizier,\" said he aloud,\n\"who do you think it can be that has sent me so extraordinary a\npresent, and neither of us know? Do you think him worthy of the\nprincess Buddir al Buddoor, my daughter?\"\n\nThe vizier, notwithstanding his envy and grief to see a stranger\npreferred to be the sultan's son-in-law before his son, durst not\ndisguise his sentiments. It was too visible that Alla ad Deen's\npresent was more than sufficient to merit his being received into\nroyal alliance; therefore, consulting his master's feelings, he\nreturned this answer: \"I am so far from having any thoughts that\nthe person who has made your majesty so noble a present is\nunworthy of the honour you would do him, that I should say he\ndeserved much more, if I was not persuaded that the greatest\ntreasure in the world ought not to be put in competition with the\nprincess your majesty's daughter.\" This speech was applauded by\nall the lords who were then in council.\n\nThe sultan made no longer hesitation, nor thought of informing\nhimself whether Alla ad Deen was endowed with all the\nqualifications requisite in one who aspired to be his son-in-law.\nThe sight alone of such immense riches, and Alla ad Deen's\nquickness in satisfying his demand, without starting the least\ndifficulty at the exorbitant conditions he had imposed, easily\npersuaded him, that he could want nothing to render him\naccomplished, and such as he desired. Therefore, to send Alla ad\nDeen's mother back with all the satisfaction she could desire, he\nsaid to her, \"My good lady, go and tell your son that I wait with\nopen arms to embrace him, and the more haste he makes to come and\nreceive the princess my daughter from my hands, the greater\npleasure he will do me.\"\n\nAs soon as the tailor's widow had retired, overjoyed as a woman\nin her condition must have been, to see her son raised beyond all\nexpectations to such exalted fortune, the sultan put an end to\nthe audience; and rising from his throne, ordered that the\nprincess's eunuchs should come and carry the trays into their\nmistress's apartment, whither he went himself to examine them\nwith her at his leisure. The fourscore slaves were conducted in\nto the palace; and the sultan, telling the princess of their\nmagnificent appearance, ordered them to be brought before her\napartment, that she might see through the lattices he had not\nexaggerated in his account of them.\n\nIn the meantime Alla ad Deen's mother got home, and shewed in her\nair and countenance the good news she brought her son \"My son,\"\nsaid she to him, \"you have now all the reason in the world to be\npleased: you are, contrary to my expectations, arrived at the\nheight of your desires. Not to keep you too long in suspense, the\nsultan, with the approbation of the whole court, has declared\nthat you are worthy to possess the princess Buddir al Buddoor,\nwaits to embrace you and conclude your marriage; therefore, you\nmust think of making some preparations for your interview, which\nmay answer the high opinion he has formed of your person; and\nafter the wonders I have seen you do, I am persuaded nothing can\nbe wanting. But I must not forget to tell you the sultan waits\nfor you with great impatience, therefore lose no time in paying\nyour respects.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen, enraptured with this news, and full of the object\nwhich possessed his soul, made his mother very little reply, but\nretired to his chamber. There, after he had rubbed his lamp,\nwhich had never failed him in whatever he wished for, the\nobedient genie appeared. \"Genie,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"I want to\nbathe immediately, and you must afterwards provide me the richest\nand most magnificent habit ever worn by a monarch.\" No sooner\nwere the words out of his mouth than the genie rendered him, as\nwell as himself, invisible, and transported him into a hummum of\nthe finest marble of all sorts of colours; where he was\nundressed, without seeing by whom, in a magnificent and spacious\nhall. From the hall he was led to the bath, which was of a\nmoderate heat, and he was there rubbed and washed with various\nscented waters. After he had passed through several degrees of\nheat, he came out, quite a different man from what he was before.\nHis skin was clear white and red, his body lightsome and free;\nand when he returned into the hall, he found, instead of his own,\na suit, the magnificence of which astonished him. The genie\nhelped him to dress, and when he had done, transported him back\nto his own chamber, where he asked him if he had any other\ncommands. \"Yes,\" answered Alla ad Deen, \"I expect you to bring me\nas soon as possible a charger, that surpasses in beauty and\ngoodness the best in the sultan's stables, with a saddle, bridle,\nand other caparisons worth a million of money. I want also twenty\nslaves, as richly clothed as those who carried the present to the\nsultan, to walk by my side and follow me, and twenty more to go\nbefore me in two ranks. Besides these, bring my mother six women\nslaves to attend her, as richly dressed at least as any of the\nprincess Buddir al Buddoor's, each carrying a complete dress fit\nfor any sultaness. I want also ten thousand pieces of gold in ten\npurses; go, and make haste.\"\n\nAs soon as Alla ad Deen had given these orders, the genie\ndisappeared, but presently returned with the horse, the forty\nslaves, ten of whom carried each a purse containing ten thousand\npieces of gold, and six women slaves, each carrying on her head a\ndifferent dress for Alla ad Deen's mother, wrapped up in a piece\nof silver tissue, and presented them all to Alla ad Deen.\n\nOf the ten purses Alla ad Deen took four, which he gave to his\nmother, telling her, those were to supply her with necessaries;\nthe other six he left in the hands of the slaves who brought\nthem, with an order to throw them by handfuls among the people as\nthey went to the sultan's palace. The six slaves who carried the\npurses he ordered likewise to march before him, three on the\nright hand and three on the left. Afterwards he presented the six\nwomen slaves to his mother, telling her they were her slaves, and\nthat the dresses they had brought were for her use.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen had thus settled matters, he told the genie he\nwould call for him when he wanted him, and thereupon the genie\ndisappeared. Alla ad Deen's thoughts now were only upon\nanswering, as soon as possible, the desire the sultan had shown\nto see him. He dispatched one of the forty slaves to the palace,\nwith an order to address himself to the chief of the porters, to\nknow when he might have the honour to come and throw himself at\nthe sultan's feet. The slave soon acquitted himself of his\ncommission, and brought for answer, that the sultan waited for\nhim with impatience.\n\nAlla ad Deen immediately mounted his charger, and began his\nmarch, in the order we have already described; and though he\nnever was on horseback before, appeared with such extraordinary\ngrace, that the most experienced horseman would not have taken\nhim for a novice. The streets through which he was to pass were\nalmost instantly filled with an innumerable concourse of people,\nwho made the air echo with acclamations, especially every time\nthe six slaves who carried the purses threw handfuls of gold\namong the populace. Neither did these acclamations and shouts of\njoy come from those alone who scrambled for the money, but from a\nsuperior rank of people, who could not forbear applauding Alla ad\nDeen's generosity. Not only those who knew him when he played in\nthe streets like a vagabond did not recollect him, but those who\nsaw him but a little while before hardly recognised him, so much\nwere his features altered: such were the effects of the lamp, as\nto procure by degrees to those who possessed it perfections\nsuitable to the rank to which the right use of it advanced them.\nMuch more attention was paid to Alla ad Deen's person than to the\npomp and magnificence of his attendants, as a similar show had\nbeen seen the day before when the slaves walked in procession\nwith the present to the sultan. Nevertheless the horse was much\nadmired by good judges, who knew how to discern his beauties,\nwithout being dazzled by the jewels and richness of the\nfurniture. When the report was everywhere spread, that the sultan\nwas going to give the princess in marriage to Alla ad Deen,\nnobody regarded his birth, nor envied his good fortune, so worthy\nhe seemed of it in the public opinion.\n\nWhen he arrived at the palace, everything was prepared for his\nreception; and when he came to the gate of the second court, he\nwould have alighted from his horse, agreeably to the custom\nobserved by the grand vizier, the commander in chief of the\nempire, and governors of provinces of the first rank; but the\nchief of the mace-bearers who waited on him by the sultan's order\nprevented him, and attended him to the grand hall of audience,\nwhere he helped him to dismount; though Alla ad Deen endeavoured\nto prevent him, but could not prevail. The officers formed\nthemselves into two ranks at the entrance of the hall. The chief\nput Alla ad Deen on his right hand, and through the midst of them\nled him to the sultan's throne.\n\nAs soon as the sultan perceived Alla ad Deen, he was no less\nsurprised to see him more richly and magnificently habited than\never he had been himself, than struck at his good mien, fine\nshape, and a certain air of unexpected dignity, very different\nfrom the meanness of his mother's late appearance.\n\nBut, notwithstanding, his amazement and surprise did not hinder\nhim from rising off his throne, and descending two or three\nsteps, quick enough to prevent Alla ad Deen's throwing himself at\nhis feet. He embraced him with all the demonstrations of joy at\nhis arrival. After this civility Alla ad Deen would have thrown\nhimself at his feet again; but he held him fast by the hand, and\nobliged him to sit close to the throne.\n\nAlla ad Deen then addressed the sultan, saying, \"I receive the\nhonour which your majesty out of your great condescension is\npleased to confer; but permit me to assure you, that I have not\nforgotten that I am your slave; that I know the greatness of your\npower, and that I am not in sensible how much my birth is below\nthe splendour and lustre of the high rank to which I am raised.\nIf any way,\" continued he, \"I could have merited so favourable a\nreception, I confess I owe it merely to the boldness which chance\ninspired in me to raise my eyes, thoughts, and desires to the\ndivine princess, who is the object of my wishes. I ask your\nmajesty's pardon for my rashness, but I cannot dissemble, that I\nshould die with grief were I to lose my hopes of seeing them\naccomplished.\"\n\n\"My son,\" answered the sultan, embracing him a second time, \"you\nwould wrong me to doubt for a moment of my sincerity: your life\nfrom this moment is too dear to me not to preserve it, by\npresenting you with the remedy which is at my disposal. I prefer\nthe pleasure of seeing and hearing you before all your treasure\nadded to my own.\"\n\nAfter these words, the sultan gave a signal, and immediately the\nair echoed with the sound of trumpets, hautboys, and other\nmusical instruments: and at the same time the sultan led Alla ad\nDeen into a magnificent hall, where was laid out a most splendid\ncollation. The sultan and Alla ad Deen ate by themselves, while\nthe grand vizier and the great lords of the court, according to\ntheir dignity and rank, sat at different tables. The conversation\nturned on different subjects; but all the while the sultan took\nso much pleasure in looking at his intended son-in-law, that he\nhardly ever took his eyes off him; and throughout the whole of\ntheir conversation Alla ad Deen showed so much good sense, as\nconfirmed the sultan in the high opinion he had formed of him.\n\nAfter the feast, the sultan sent for the chief judge of his\ncapital, and ordered him to draw up immediately a contract of\nmarriage between the princess Buddir al Buddoor his daughter and\nAlla ad Deen. In the mean time the sultan and he entered into\nanother conversation on various subjects, in the presence of the\ngrand vizier and the lords of the court, who all admired the\nsolidity of his wit, the great ease and freedom wherewith he\ndelivered himself, the justness of his remarks, and his energy in\nexpressing them.\n\nWhen the judge had drawn up the contract in all the requisite\nforms, the sultan asked Alla ad Deen if he would stay in the\npalace, and solemnize the ceremonies of marriage that day. To\nwhich he answered, \"Sir, though great is my impatience to enjoy\nyour majesty's goodness, yet I beg of you to give me leave to\ndefer it till I have built a palace fit to receive the princess;\ntherefore I petition you to grant me a convenient spot of ground\nnear your palace, that I may the more frequently pay my respects,\nand I will take care to have it finished with all diligence.\"\n\"Son,\" said the sultan, \"take what ground you think proper, there\nis space enough on every quarter round my palace; but consider, I\ncannot see you too soon united with my daughter, which alone is\nwanting to complete my happiness.\" After these words he embraced\nAlla ad Deen again, who took his leave with as much politeness as\nif he had been bred up and had always lived at court.\n\nAlla ad Deen returned home in the order he had come, amidst the\nacclamations of the people, who wished him all happiness and\nprosperity. As soon as he dismounted, he retired to his own\nchamber, took the lamp, and called the genie as before, who in\nthe usual manner made him a tender of his service. \"Genie,\" said\nAlla ad Deen, \"I have every reason to commend your exactness in\nexecuting hitherto punctually whatever I have demanded; but now\nif you have any regard for the lamp your protector, you must\nshow, if possible, more zeal and diligence than ever. I would\nhave you build me, as soon as you can, a palace opposite, but at\na proper distance from the sultan's, fit to receive my spouse the\nprincess Buddir al Buddoor. I leave the choice of the materials\nto you, that is to say, porphyry, jasper, agate, lapis lazuli, or\nthe finest marble of various colours, and also the architecture\nof the building. But I expect that on the terraced roof of this\npalace you will build me a large hall crowned with a dome, and\nhaving four equal fronts; and that instead of layers of bricks,\nthe walls be formed of massive gold and silver, laid alternately;\nthat each front shall contain six windows, the lattices of all\nwhich, except one, which must be left unfinished, shall be so\nenriched in the most tasteful workmanship, with diamonds, rubies,\nand emeralds, that they shall exceed every thing of the kind ever\nseen in the world. I would have an inner and outer court in front\nof the palace, and a spacious garden; but above all things, take\ncare that there be laid in a place which you shall point out to\nme a treasure of gold and silver coin. Besides, the edifice must\nbe well provided with kitchens and offices, storehouses, and\nrooms to keep choice furniture in, for every season of the year.\nI must have stables full of the finest horses, with their\nequerries and grooms, and hunting equipage. There must be\nofficers to attend the kitchens and offices, and women slaves to\nwait on the princess. You understand what I mean; therefore go\nabout it, and come and tell me when all is finished.\"\n\nBy the time Alla ad Deen had instructed the genie resetting the\nbuilding of his palace, the sun was set. The next morning, before\nbreak of day, our bridegroom, whose love for the princess would\nnot let him sleep, was up, when the genie presented himself, and\nsaid, \"Sir, your palace is finished, come and see how you like\nit.\" Alla ad Deen had no sooner signified his consent, than the\ngenie transported him thither in an instant, and he found it so\nmuch beyond his expectation, that he could not enough admire it.\nThe genie led him through all the apartments, where he met with\nnothing but what was rich and magnificent, with officers and\nslaves, all habited according to their rank and the services to\nwhich they were appointed. The genie then showed him the\ntreasury, which was opened by a treasurer, where Alla ad Deen saw\nheaps of purses, of different sizes, piled up to the top of the\nceiling, and disposed in most excellent order. The genie assured\nhim of the treasurer's fidelity, and thence led him to the\nstables, where he showed him some of the finest horses in the\nworld, and the grooms busy in dressing them; from thence they\nwent to the store-houses, which were filled with all things\nnecessary, both for food and ornament.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen had examined the palace from top to bottom, and\nparticularly the hall with the four-and-twenty windows, and found\nit much beyond whatever he could have imagined, he said, \"Genie,\nno one can be better satisfied than I am; and indeed I should be\nmuch to blame if I found any fault. There is only one thing\nwanting which I forgot to mention; that is, to lay from the\nsultan's palace to the door of the apartment designed for the\nprincess, a carpet of fine velvet for her to walk upon.\" The\ngenie immediately disappeared, and Alla ad Deen saw what he\ndesired executed in an instant. The genie then returned, and\ncarried him home before the gates of the sultan's palace were\nopened.\n\nWhen the porters, who had always been used to an open prospect,\ncame to open the gates, they were amazed to find it obstructed,\nand to see a carpet of velvet spread from the grand entrance.\nThey did not immediately look how far it extended; but when they\ncould discern Alla ad Deen's palace distinctly, their surprise\nwas increased. The news of so extraordinary a wonder was\npresently spread through the palace. The grand vizier, who\narrived soon after the gates were open, being no less amazed than\nothers at this novelty, ran and acquainted the sultan, but\nendeavoured to make him believe it to be all enchantment.\n\"Vizier,\" replied the sultan, \"why will you have it to be\nenchantment? You know as well as I that it must be Alla ad Deen's\npalace, which I gave him leave to build, for the reception of my\ndaughter. After the proof we have had of his riches, can we think\nit strange, that he should raise a palace in so short a time? He\nwished to surprise us, and let us see what wonders are to be done\nwith money in only one night. Confess sincerely that the\nenchantment you talk of proceeds from a little envy on account of\nyour son's disappointment.\" The hour of going to council put an\nend to the conversation.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen had been conveyed home, and had dismissed the\ngenie, he found his mother up, and dressing herself in one of\nthose suits which had been brought her. By the time the sultan\nrose from the council, Alla ad Deen had prepared his mother to go\nto the palace with her slaves, and desired her, if she saw the\nsultan, to tell him she should do herself the honour to attend\nthe princess towards evening to her palace. Accordingly she went;\nbut though she and the women slaves who followed her were all\ndressed like sultanesses, yet the crowd was not near so great as\nthe preceding day, because they were all veiled, and had each an\nupper garment on agreeable to the richness and magnificence of\ntheir habits. Alla ad Deen mounted his horse, and took leave of\nhis paternal house forever, taking care not to forget his\nwonderful lamp, by the assistance of which he had reaped such\nadvantages, and arrived at the utmost height of his wishes, and\nwent to the palace in the same pomp as the day before.\n\nAs soon as the porters of the sultan's palace saw Alla ad Deen's\nmother, they went and informed the sultan, who immediately\nordered the bands of trumpets, cymbals, drums, fifes and\nhautboys, placed in different parts of the palace, to play, so\nthat the air resounded with concerts which inspired the whole\ncity with joy: the merchants began to adorn their shops and\nhouses with fine carpets and silks, and to prepare illuminations\nagainst night. The artisans of every description left their work,\nand the populace repaired to the great space between the royal\npalace and that of Alla ad Deen; which last drew all their\nattention, not only because it was new to them, but because there\nwas no comparison between the two buildings. But their amazement\nwas to comprehend by what unheard-of miracle so magnificent a\npalace could have been so soon erected, it being apparent to all\nthat there were no prepared materials, or any foundations laid\nthe day before.\n\nAlla ad Deen's mother was received in the palace with honour, and\nintroduced into the princess Buddir al Buddoor's apartment by the\nchief of the eunuchs. As soon as the princess saw her, she rose,\nsaluted, and desired her to sit down on a sofa; and while her\nwomen finished dressing and adorning her with the jewels which\nAlla ad Deen had presented to her, a collation was served up. At\nthe same time the sultan, who wished to be as much with his\ndaughter as possible before he parted with her, came in and paid\nthe old lady great respect. Alla ad Deen's mother had talked to\nthe sultan in public, but he had never seen her with her veil\noff, as she was then; and though she was somewhat advanced in\nyears, she had the remains of a good face, which showed what she\nhad been in her youth. The sultan, who had always seen her\ndressed very meanly, not to say poorly, was surprised to find her\nas richly and magnificently attired as the princess his daughter.\nThis made him think Alla ad Deen equally prudent and wise in\nwhatever he undertook.\n\nWhen it was night, the princess took her leave of the sultan her\nfather: their adieus were tender, and accompanied with tears.\nThey embraced each other several times, and at last the princess\nleft her own apartment for Alla ad Deen's palace, with his mother\non her left hand carried in a superb litter, followed by a\nhundred women slaves, dressed with surprising magnificence. All\nthe bands of music, which had played from the time Alla ad Deen's\nmother arrived, being joined together, led the procession,\nfollowed by a hundred state ushers, and the like number of black\neunuchs, in two files, with their officers at their head. Four\nhundred of the sultan's young pages carried flambeaux on each\nside, which, together with the illuminations of the sultan's and\nAlla ad Deen's palaces, made it as light as day.\n\nIn this order the princess proceeded in her litter on the carpet,\nwhich was spread from the sultan's palace, preceded by bands of\nmusicians, who, as they advanced, joining with those on the\nterraces of Alla ad Deen's palace, formed a concert, which\nincreased the joyful sensations not only of the crowd assembled\nin the great square, but of the metropolis and its environs.\n\nAt length the princess arrived at the new palace. Alla ad Deen\nran with all imaginable joy to receive her at the grand entrance.\nHis mother had taken care to point him out to the princess, in\nthe midst of the officers who surrounded him, and she was charmed\nwith his person. \"Adorable princess,\" said Alla ad Deen,\naccosting her, and saluting her respectfully, as soon as she had\nentered her apartment, \"if I have the misfortune to have\ndispleased you by my boldness in aspiring to the possession of so\nlovely a princess, and my sultan's daughter, I must tell you,\nthat you ought to blame your bright eyes and charms, not me.\"\n\"Prince (as I may now call you),\" answered the princess, \"I am\nobedient to the will of my father; and it is enough for me to\nhave seen you to tell you that I obey without reluctance.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen, charmed with so agreeable and satisfactory an\nanswer, would not keep the princess standing; but took her by the\nhand, which he kissed with the greatest demonstration of joy, and\nled her into a large hall, illuminated with an infinite number of\nwax candles, where, by the care of the genie, a noble feast was\nserved up. The dishes were of massive gold, and contained the\nmost delicate viands. The vases, basins, and goblets, were gold\nalso, and of exquisite workmanship, and all the other ornaments\nand embellishments of the hall were answerable to this display.\nThe princess, dazzled to see so much riches collected in one\nplace, said to Alla ad Deen, \"I thought, prince, that nothing in\nthe world was so beautiful as the sultan my father's palace, but\nthe sight of this hall alone is sufficient to show I was\ndeceived.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen led the princess to the place appointed for her, and\nas soon as she and his mother were seated, a band of the most\nharmonious instruments, accompanied with the voices of beautiful\nladies, began a concert, which lasted without intermission to the\nend of the repast. The princess was so charmed, that she declared\nshe had never heard anything like it in the sultan her father's\ncourt; but she knew not that these musicians were fairies chosen\nby the genie, the slave of the lamp.\n\nWhen the supper was ended, there entered a company of female\ndancers, who performed, according to the custom of the country,\nseveral figure dances, singing at the same time verses in praise\nof the bride and bridegroom. About midnight Alla ad Deen's mother\nconducted the bride to the nuptial apartment, and he soon after\nretired.\n\nThe next morning when Alla ad Deen left the bridal chamber, his\nattendants presented themselves to dress him, and brought him\nanother habit as rich and magnificent as that worn the day\nbefore. He then ordered one of the horses appointed for his use\nto be got ready, mounted him, and went in the midst of a large\ntroop of slaves to the sultan's palace. The sultan received him\nwith the same honours as before, embraced him, placed him on the\nthrone near him, and ordered a collation. Alla ad Deen said, \"I\nbeg your majesty will dispense with my eating with you to-day; I\ncame to entreat you to take a repast in the princess's palace,\nattended by your grand vizier, and all the lords of your court.\"\nThe sultan consented with pleasure, rose up immediately, and,\npreceded by the principal officers of his palace, and followed by\nall the great lords of his court, accompanied Alla ad Deen.\n\nThe nearer the sultan approached Alla ad Deen's palace, the more\nhe was struck with its beauty, but was much more amazed when he\nentered it; and could not forbear breaking out into exclamations\nof approbation. But when he came into the hall, and cast his eyes\non the windows, enriched with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, all\nlarge perfect stones, he was so much surprised, that he remained\nsome time motionless. After he recovered himself, he said to his\nvizier, \"Is it possible that there should be such a stately\npalace so near my own, and I be an utter stranger to it till\nnow?\" \"Sir,\" replied the grand vizier, \"your majesty may remember\nthat the day before yesterday you gave Alla ad Deen, whom you\naccepted for your son-in-law, leave to build a palace opposite\nyour own, and that very day at sunset there was no palace on this\nspot, but yesterday I had the honour first to tell you that the\npalace was built and finished.\" \"I remember,\" replied the sultan,\n\"but never imagined that the palace was one of the wonders of the\nworld; for where in all the world besides shall we find walls\nbuilt of massive gold and silver, instead of brick, stone, or\nmarble; and diamonds, rubies, and emeralds composing the\nwindows!\"\n\nThe sultan would examine and admire the beauty of all the\nwindows, and counting them, found that there were but three-and-\ntwenty so richly adorned, and he was greatly astonished that the\ntwenty-fourth was left imperfect. \"Vizier,\" said he, for that\nminister made a point of never leaving him, \"I am surprised that\na hall of this magnificence should be left thus imperfect.\"\n\"Sir,\" replied the grand vizier, \"without doubt Alla ad Deen only\nwanted time to finish this window like the rest; for it is not to\nbe supposed but that he has sufficient jewels for the purpose, or\nthat he will not complete it the first opportunity.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen, who had left the sultan to go and give some orders,\nreturned just as the vizier had finished his remark. \"Son,\" said\nthe sultan to him, \"this hall is the most worthy of admiration of\nany in the world; there is only one thing that surprises me,\nwhich is to find one of the windows unfinished. Is it from the\nforgetfulness or negligence of the workmen, or want of time, that\nthey have not put the finishing stroke to so beautiful a piece of\narchitecture?\" \"Sir,\" answered Alla ad Deen, \"it was for none of\nthese reasons that your majesty sees it in this state. The\nomission was by design, it was by my orders that the workmen left\nit thus, since I wished that your majesty should have the glory\nof finishing this hall, and of course the palace.\" \"If you did it\nwith this intention,\" replied the sultan, \"I take it kindly, and\nwill give orders about it immediately.\" He accordingly sent for\nthe most considerable jewellers and goldsmiths in his capital.\n\nAlla ad Deen then conducted the sultan into the saloon where he\nhad regaled his bride the preceding night. The princess entered\nimmediately afterwards, and received the sultan her father with\nan air that showed how happy she was with her marriage. Two\ntables were immediately spread with the most delicious meats, all\nserved up in gold dishes. The sultan, princess, Alla ad Deen, his\nmother, and the grand vizier, sat down at the first, and all the\nlords of the court at the second, which was very long. The sultan\nwas much pleased with the cookery, and owned he had never eaten\nanything more excellent. He said the same of the wines, which\nwere delicious; but what he most of all admired, were four large\nsideboards, profusely furnished with large flagons, basins, and\ncups, all of massive gold, set with jewels. He was besides\ncharmed with several bands of music, which were ranged along the\nhall, and formed most agreeable concerts.\n\nWhen the sultan rose from table, he was informed that the\njewellers and goldsmiths attended; upon which he returned to the\nhall, and showed them the window which was unfinished. \"I sent\nfor you,\" said he, \"to fit up this window in as great perfection\nas the rest; examine them well and make all the dispatch you\ncan.\"\n\nThe jewellers and goldsmiths examined the three-and-twenty\nwindows with great attention, and after they had consulted\ntogether, to know what each could furnish, they returned, and\npresented themselves before the sultan, whose principal jeweller,\nundertaking to speak for the rest, said, \"Sir, we are all willing\nto exert our utmost care and industry to obey your majesty; but\namong us all we cannot furnish jewels enough for so great a\nwork.\" \"I have more than are necessary,\" said the sultan; \"come\nto my palace, and you shall choose what may answer your purpose.\"\n\nWhen the sultan returned to his palace, he ordered his jewels to\nbe brought out, and the jewellers took a great quantity,\nparticularly those Alla ad Deen had made him a present of, which\nthey soon used, without making any greet advance in their work.\nThey came again several times for more, and in a month's time had\nnot finished half their work. In short, they used all the jewels\nthe sultan had, and borrowed of the vizier, but yet the work was\nnot half done.\n\nA]]a ad Deen, who knew that all the sultan's endeavours to make\nthis window like the rest were in vain, sent for the jewellers\nand goldsmiths, and not only commanded them to desist from their\nwork, but ordered them to undo what they had begun, and to carry\nall their jewels back to the sultan and to the vizier. They undid\nin a few hours what they had been six weeks about, and retired,\nleaving Alla ad Deen alone in the hall. He took the lamp which he\ncarried about him, rubbed it, and presently the genie appeared.\n\"Genie,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"I ordered thee to leave one of the\nfour-and-twenty windows of this hall imperfect, and thus hast\nexecuted my commands punctually; now I would have thee make it\nlike the rest.\" The genie immediately disappeared. Alla ad Deen\nwent out of the hall, and returning soon after, found the window,\nas he wished it to be, like the others.\n\nIn the meantime, the jewellers and goldsmiths repaired to the\npalace, and were introduced into the sultan's presence; where the\nchief jeweller, presenting the precious stones which he had\nbrought back, said, in the name of all the rest, \"Your majesty\nknows how long we have been upon the work you were pleased to set\nus about, in which we used all imaginable industry. It was far\nadvanced, when prince Alla ad Deen commanded us not only to leave\noff, but to undo what we had already begun, and bring your\nmajesty your jewels back.\" The sultan asked them if Alla ad Deen\nhad given them any reason for so doing, and they answering that\nhe had given them none, he ordered a horse to be brought, which\nhe mounted, and rode to his son-in law's palace, with some few\nattendants on foot. When he came there, he alighted at the stair-\ncase, which led up to the hall with the twenty-four windows, and\nwent directly up to it, without giving previous notice to Alla ad\nDeen; but it happened that at that very juncture Alla ad Deen was\nopportunely there, and had just time to receive him at the door.\n\nThe sultan, without giving Alla ad Deen time to complain\nobligingly of his not having given notice, that he might have\nacquitted himself with the more becoming respect, said to him,\n\"Son, I come myself to know the reason why you commanded the\njewellers to desist from work, and take to pieces what they had\ndone.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen disguised the true reason, which was, that the\nsultan was not rich enough in jewels to be at so great an\nexpense, but said, \"I beg of you now to see if any thing is\nwanting.\"\n\nThe sultan went directly to the window which was left imperfect,\nand when he found it like the rest, fancied that he was mistaken,\nexamined the two windows on each side, and afterwards all the\nfour-and-twenty; but when he was convinced that the window which\nseveral workmen had been so long about was finished in so short a\ntime, he embraced Alla ad Deen, and kissed him between his eyes.\n\"My son,\" said he, \"what a man you are to do such surprising\nthings always in the twinkling of an eye; there is not your\nfellow in the world; the more I know, the more I admire you.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen received these praises from the sultan with modesty,\nand replied in these words: \"Sir, it is a great honour to me to\ndeserve your majesty's good-will and approbation, and I assure\nyou, I shall study to deserve them more.\"\n\nThe sultan returned to his palace, but would not let Alla ad Deen\nattend him. When he came there, he found his grand vizier\nwaiting, to whom he related the wonder he had witnessed, with the\nutmost admiration, and in such terms as left the minister no room\nto doubt but that the facet was as the sultan related it; though\nhe was the more confirmed in his belief, that Alla ad Deen's\npalace was the effect of enchantment, as he had told the sultan\nthe first moment he saw it. He was going to repeat the\nobservation, but the sultan interrupted him, and said, \"You told\nme so once before; I see, vizier, you have not forgotten your\nson's espousals to my daughter.\" The frank vizier plainly saw how\nmuch the sultan was prepossessed, therefore avoided disputes and\nlet him remain in his own opinion. The sultan as soon as he rose\nevery morning went into the closet, to look at Alla ad Deen's\npalace, and would go many times in a day to contemplate and\nadmire it.\n\nAlla ad Deen did not confine himself in his palace; but took care\nto shew himself once or twice a week in the town, by going\nsometimes to one mosque, and sometimes to another, to prayers, or\nto visit the grand vizier, who affected to pay his court to him\non certain days, or to do the principal lords of the court the\nhonour to return their visits after he had regaled them at his\npalace. Every time he went out, he caused two slaves, who walked\nby the side of his horse, to throw handfuls of money among the\npeople as he passed through the streets and squares, which were\ngenerally on those occasions crowded. Besides, no one came to his\npalace gates to ask alms, but returned satisfied with his\nliberality. In short, he so divided his time, that not a week\npassed but he went either once or twice a hunting, sometimes in\nthe environs of the city, sometimes farther off; at which time\nthe villages through which he passed felt the effects of his\ngenerosity, which gained him the love and blessings of the\npeople: and it was common for them to swear by his head. Thus,\nwithout giving the ]east umbrage to the sultan, to whom he paid\nall imaginable respect, Alla ad Deen, by his affable behaviour\nand liberality, had won the affections of the people, and was\nmore beloved than the sultan himself. With all these good\nqualities he shewed a courage and a zeal for the public good\nwhich could not be sufficiently applauded. He gave sufficient\nproofs of both in a revolt on the borders of the kingdom; for he\nno sooner understood that the sultan was levying an army to\ndisperse the rebels than he begged the command of it, which he\nfound not difficult to obtain. As soon as he was empowered, he\nmarched with so much expedition, that the sultan heard of the\ndefeat of the rebels before he had received an account of his\narrival in the army. And though this action rendered his name\nfamous throughout the kingdom, it made no alteration in his\ndisposition; but he was as affable after his victory as before.\n\nAlla ad Deen had conducted himself in this manner several years,\nwhen the African magician, who undesignedly had been the\ninstrument of raising him to so high a pitch of prosperity,\nrecalled him to his recollection in Africa, whither, after his\nexpedition, he had returned. And though he was almost persuaded\nthat Alla ad Deen must have died miserably in the subterraneous\nabode where he had left him, yet he had the curiosity to inform\nhimself about his end with certainty; and as he was a great\ngeomancer, he took out of a cupboard a square covered box, which\nhe used in his geomantic observations: then sat himself down on\nthe sofa, set it before him, and uncovered it. After he had\nprepared and levelled the sand which was in it, with an intention\nto discover whether or no Alla ad Deen had died in the\nsubterraneous abode, he cast the points, drew the figures, and\nformed a horoscope, by which, when he came to examine it, he\nfound that Alla ad Deen, instead of dying in the cave, had made\nhis escape, lived splendidly, was in possession of the wonderful\nlamp, had married a princess, and was much honoured and\nrespected.\n\nThe magician no sooner understood by the rules of his diabolical\nart, that Alla ad Deen had arrived to this height of good\nfortune, than his face became inflamed with anger, and he cried\nout in a rage, \"This sorry tailor's son has discovered the secret\nand virtue of the lamp! I believed his death to be certain; but\nfind that he enjoys the fruit of my labour and study! I will,\nhowever, prevent his enjoying it long, or perish in the attempt.\"\nHe was not a great while deliberating on what he should do, but\nthe next morning mounted a barb, set forwards, and never stopped\nbut to refresh himself and horse, till he arrived at the capital\nof China. He alighted, took up his lodging in a khan, and stayed\nthere the remainder of the day and the night, to refresh himself\nafter so long a journey.\n\nThe next day, his first object was to inquire what people said of\nAlla ad Deen; and, taking a walk through the town, he went to the\nmost public and frequented places, where persons of the best\ndistinction met to drink a certain warm liquor, which he had\ndrunk often during his former visit.\n\nAs soon as he had seated himself, he was presented with a cup of\nit, which he took; but listening at the same time to the\ndiscourse of the company on each side of him, he heard them\ntalking of Alla ad Deen's palace. When he had drunk off his\nliquor, he joined them, and taking this opportunity, inquired\nparticularly of what palace they spoke with so much commendation.\n\"From whence come you?\" said the person to whom he addressed\nhimself; \"you must certainly be a stranger not to have seen or\nheard talk of Prince Alla ad Deen's palace\" (for he was called so\nafter his marriage with the princess). \"I do not say,\" continued\nthe man, \"that it is one of the wonders of the world, but that it\nis the only wonder of the world; since nothing so grand, rich,\nand magnificent was ever beheld. Certainly you must have come\nfrom a great distance, or some obscure corner, not to have heard\nof it, for it must have been talked of all over the world. Go and\nsee it, and then judge whether I have told you more than the\ntruth.\" \"Forgive my ignorance,\" replied the African magician; \"I\narrived here but yesterday, and came from the farthest part of\nAfrica, where the fame of this palace had not reached when I came\naway. The business which brought me hither was so urgent, that my\nsole objets was to arrive as soon as I could, without stopping\nanywhere, or making any acquaintance. But I will not fail to go\nand see it; my impatience is so great, I will go immediately and\nsatisfy my curiosity, if you will do me the favour to shew me the\nway thither.\"\n\nThe person to whom the African magician addressed himself took a\npleasure in shewing him the way to Alla ad Deen's palace, and he\ngot up and went thither instantly. When he came to the palace,\nand had examined it on all sides, he doubted not but that Alla ad\nDeen had made use of the lamp to build it. Without attending to\nthe inability of a poor tailor's son, he knew that none but the\ngenii, the slaves of the lamp, the attaining of which he had\nmissed, could have performed such wonders; and piqued to the\nquick at Alla ad Deen's happiness and splendour, he returned to\nthe khan where he lodged.\n\nThe next point was to ascertain where the lamp was; whether Alla\nad Deen carried it about with him, or where he kept it; and this\nhe was to discover by an operation of geomancy. As soon as he\nentered his lodging, he took his square box of sand, which he\nalways carried with him when he travelled, and after he had\nperformed some operations, he found that the lamp was in Alla ad\nDeen's palace, and so great was his joy at the discovery that he\ncould hardly contain himself. \"Well,\" said he, \"I shall have the\nlamp, and defy Alla ad Deen's preventing my carrying it off, and\nmaking him sink to his original meanness, from which he has taken\nso high a flight.\"\n\nIt was Alla ad Deen's misfortune at that time to be absent in the\nchase for eight days, and only three were expired, which the\nmagician came to know by this means. After he had performed the\nmagical operation, which gave him so much joy, he went to the\nsuperintendent of the khan, entered into conversation with him on\nindifferent subjects, and among the rest, told him he had been to\nsee Alla ad Deen's palace; and after exaggerating on all that he\nhad seen most worthy of observation, added, \"But my curiosity\nleads me farther, and I shall not be satisfied till I have seen\nthe person to whom this wonderful edifice belongs.\" \"That will be\nno difficult matter,\" replied the master of the khan, \"there is\nnot a day passes but he gives an opportunity when he is in town,\nbut at present he is not at the palace, and has been gone these\nthree days on a hunting-match, which will last eight.\n\nThe magician wanted to know no more; he took his leave of the\nsuperintendent of the khan, and returning to his own chamber,\nsaid to himself, \"This is an opportunity I ought by no means to\nneglect, but must make the best use of it.\" To that end, he went\nto a coppersmith, and asked for a dozen copper lamps: the master\nof the shop told him he had not so many by him, but if he would\nhave patience till the next day, he would have them ready. The\nmagician appointed his time, and desired him to take care that\nthey should be handsome and well polished. After promising to pay\nhim well, he returned to his inn.\n\nThe next day the magician called for the twelve lamps, paid the\nman his full price, put them into a basket which he bought on\npurpose, and with the basket hanging on his arm, went directly to\nAlla ad Deen's palace: as he approached he began crying, \"Who\nwill change old lamps for new ones?\" As he went along, a crowd of\nchildren collected, who hooted, and thought him, as did all who\nchanced to be passing by, a madman or a fool, to offer to change\nnew lamps for old ones.\n\nThe African magician regarded not their scoffs, hootings, or all\nthey could say to him, but still continued crying, \"Who will\nchange old lamps for new?\" He repeated this so often, walking\nbackwards and forwards in front of the palace, that the princess,\nwho was then in the hall with the four-and-twenty windows,\nhearing a man cry something, and not being able to distinguish\nhis words, owing to the hooting of the children and increasing\nmob about him, sent one of her women slaves to know what he\ncried.\n\nThe slave was not long before she returned, and ran into the\nhall, laughing so heartily, that the princess could not forbear\nherself. \"Well, giggler,\" said the princess, \"will you tell me\nwhat you laugh at?\" \"Madam,\" answered the slave, laughing still,\n\"who can forbear laughing, to see a fool with a basket on his\narm, full of fine new lamps, ask to change them for old ones; the\nchildren and mob, crowding about him so that he can hardly stir,\nmake all the noise they can in derision of him.\"\n\nAnother female slave hearing this, said, \"Now you speak of lamps,\nI know not whether the princess may have observed it, but there\nis an old one upon a shelf of the prince's robing-room, and\nwhoever owns it will not be sorry to find a new one in its stead.\nIf the princess chooses, she may have the pleasure of trying if\nthis fool is so silly as to give a new lamp for an old one,\nwithout taking any thing for the exchange.\"\n\nThe lamp this slave spoke of was the wonderful lamp, which Alla\nad Deen had laid upon the shelf before he departed for the chase;\nthis he had done several times before; but neither the princess,\nthe slaves, nor the eunuchs, had ever taken notice of it. At all\nother times except when hunting he carried it about his person.\n\nThe princess, who knew not the value of this lamp, and the\ninterest that Alla ad Deen, not to mention herself, had to keep\nit safe, entered into the pleasantry, and commanded a eunuch to\ntake it, and make the exchange. The eunuch obeyed, went out of\nthe hall, and no sooner got to the palace gates than he saw the\nAfrican magician, called to him, and shewing him the old lamp,\nsaid, \"Give me a new lamp for this.\"\n\nThe magician never doubted but this was the lamp he wanted. There\ncould be no other such in this palace, where every utensil was\ngold or silver. He snatched it eagerly out of the eunuch's hand,\nand thrusting it as far as he could into his breast, offered him\nhis basket, and bade him choose which he liked best. The eunuch\npicked out one, and carried it to the princess; but the exchange\nwas no sooner made than the place rung with the shouts of the\nchildren, deriding the magician's folly.\n\nThe African magician gave everybody leave to laugh as much as\nthey pleased; he stayed not long near the palace, but made the\nbest of his way, without crying any longer, \"New lamps for old\nones.\" His end was answered, and by his silence he got rid of the\nchildren and the mob.\n\nAs soon as he was out of the square between the two palaces, he\nhastened down the streets which were the least frequented; and\nhaving no more occasion for his lamps or basket, set all down in\nan alley where nobody saw him: then going down another street or\ntwo, he walked till he came to one of the city gates, and\npursuing his way through the suburbs, which were very extensive,\nat length reached a lonely spot, where he stopped for a time to\nexecute the design he had in contemplation, never caring for his\nhorse which he had left at the khan, but thinking himself\nperfectly compensated by the treasure he had acquired.\n\nIn this place the African magician passed the remainder of the\nday, till the darkest time of night, when he pulled the lamp out\nof his breast and rubbed it. At that summons the genie appeared,\nand said, \"What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy\nslave, and the slave of all those who have that lamp in their\nhands; both I and the other slaves of the lamp.\" \"I command\nthee,\" replied the magician, \"to transport me immediately and the\npalace which thou and the other slaves of the lamp have built in\nthis city, with all the people in it, to Africa.\" The genie made\nno reply, but with the assistance of the other genii, the slaves\nof the lamp immediately transported him and the palace entire, to\nthe spot whither he was desired to convey it.\n\nAs soon as the sultan rose the next morning, according to custom,\nhe went into his closet, to have the pleasure of contemplating\nand admiring Alla ad Deen's palace; but when he first looked that\nway, and instead of a palace saw an empty space such as it was\nbefore the palace was built, he thought he was mistaken, and\nrubbed his eyes; but when he looked again, he still saw nothing\nmore the second time than the first, though the weather was fine,\nthe sky clear, and the dawn advancing had made all objects very\ndistinct. He looked again in front, to the right and left, but\nbeheld nothing more than he had formerly been used to see from\nhis window. His amazement was so great, that he stood for some\ntime turning his eyes to the spot where the palace had stood, but\nwhere it was no longer to be seen. He could not comprehend how so\nlarge a palace as Alla ad Deen's, which he had seen plainly every\nday for some years, and but the day before, should vanish so\nsoon, and not leave the least remains behind. \"Certainly,\" said\nhe to himself, \"I am not mistaken; it stood there: if it had\nfallen, the materials would have lain in heaps; and if it had\nbeen swallowed up by an earthquake, there would be some mark\nleft.\" At last, though he was convinced that no palace stood now\nopposite his own, he could not help staying some time at his\nwindow, to see whether he might not be mistaken. At last he\nretired to his apartment, not without looking behind him before\nhe quitted the spot ordered the grand vizier to be sent for with\nexpedition, and in the meantime sat down, his mind agitated by so\nmany different conjectures that he knew not what to resolve.\n\nThe grand vizier did not make the sultan wait long for him, but\ncame with so much precipitation, that neither he nor his\nattendants, as they passed, missed Alla ad Deen's palace; neither\ndid the porters, when they opened the palace gates observe any\nalteration.\n\nWhen he came into the sultan's presence, he said to him, \u0091\"The\nhaste in which your majesty sent for me makes me believe\nsomething extraordinary has happened, since you know that this is\na day of public audience, and I should not have failed of\nattending at the usual time.\" \"Indeed,\" said the sultan, \"it is\nsomething very extraordinary, as you say, and you will allow it\nto be so: tell me what is become of Alla ad Deen's palace?\" \"His\npalace!\" replied the grand vizier, in amazement, \"I thought as I\npassed it stood in its usual place; such substantial buildings\nare not so easily removed.\" \"Go into my closet,\" said the sultan,\n\"and tell me if you can see it.\"\n\nThe grand vizier went into the closet, where he was struck with\nno less amazement than the sultan had been. When he was well\nassured that there was not the least appearance of this palace,\nhe returned to the sultan. \"Well,\" said the sultan, :have you\nseen Alla ad Deen's palace?\" \"No,\" answered the vizier; \"but your\nmajesty may remember that I had the honour to tell you, that\npalace, which was the subject of your admiration, with all its\nimmense riches, was only the work of magic and a magician; but\nyour majesty would not pay the least attention to what I said.\"\n\nThe sultan, who could not deny what the grand vizier had\nrepresented to him, flew into the greater passion: \"Where is that\nimpostor, that wicked wretch,\" said he, \"that I may have his head\ntaken off immediately?\" \"Sir,\" replied the grand vizier, \"it is\nsome days since he came to take his leave of your majesty, on\npretence of hunting; he ought to be sent for, to know what is\nbecome of his palace, since he cannot be ignorant of what has\nbeen transacted.\" \"That is too great an indulgence,\" replied the\nsultan: \"command a detachment of horse to bring him to me loaded\nwith chains.\" The grand vizier gave orders for a detachment, and\ninstructed the officer who commanded them how they were to act,\nthat Alla ad Deen might not escape. The detachment pursued their\norders; and about five or six leagues from the town met him\nreturning from the chase. The officer advanced respectfully, and\ninformed him the sultan was so impatient to see him, that he had\nsent his party to accompany him home.\n\nAlla ad Deen had not the least suspicion of the true reason of\ntheir meeting him; but when he came within half a league of the\ncity, the detachment surrounded him, when the officer addressed\nhimself to him, and said, \"Prince, it is with great regret that I\ndeclare to you the sultan's order to arrest you, and to carry you\nbefore him as a criminal: I beg of you not to take it ill that we\nacquit ourselves of our duty, and to forgive us.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen, who felt himself innocent, was much surprised at\nthis declaration, and asked the officer if he knew what crime he\nwas accused of; who replied, he did not. Then Alla ad Deen,\nfinding that his retinue was much interior to this detachment,\nalighted off his horse, and said to the officers, \"Execute your\norders; I am not conscious that I have committed any offence\nagainst the sultan's person or government.\" A heavy chain was\nimmediately put about his neck, and fastened round his body, so\nthat both his arms were pinioned down; the officer then put\nhimself at the head of the detachment, and one of the troopers\ntaking hold of the end of the chain and proceeding after the\nofficer, led Alla ad Deen, who was obliged to follow him on foot,\ninto the city.\n\nWhen this detachment entered the suburbs, the people, who saw\nAlla ad Deen thus led as a state criminal, never doubted but that\nhis head was to be cut off; and as he was generally beloved, some\ntook sabres and other arms; and those who had none gathered\nstones, and followed the escort. The last division faced about to\ndisperse them; but their numbers presently increased so much,\nthat the soldiery began to think it would be well if they could\nget into the sultan's palace before Alla ad Deen was rescued; to\nprevent which, according to the different extent of the streets,\nthey took care to cover the ground by extending or closing. In\nthis manner they with much difficulty arrived at the palace\nsquare, and there drew up in a line, till their officer and\ntroopers with Alla ad Deen had got within the gates, which were\nimmediately shut.\n\nAlla ad Deen was carried before the sultan, who waited for him,\nattended by the grand vizier, in a balcony; and as soon as he saw\nhim, he ordered the executioner, who waited there for the\npurpose, to strike off his head without hearing him or giving him\nleave to clear himself.\n\nAs soon as the executioner had taken off the chain that was\nfastened about Alla ad Deen's neck and body, and laid down a skin\nstained with the blood of the many he had executed, he made the\nsupposed criminal kneel down, and tied a bandage over his eyes.\nThen drawing his sabre, took his aim by flourishing it three\ntimes in the air, waiting for the sultan's giving the signal to\nstrike.\n\nAt that instant the grand vizier perceiving that the populace had\nforced the guard of horse, crowded the great square before the\npalace, and were scaling the walls in several places, and\nbeginning to pull them down to force their way in; he said to the\nsultan, before he gave the signal, \"I beg of your majesty to\nconsider what you are going to do, since you will hazard your\npalace being destroyed; and who knows what fatal consequence may\nfollow?\" \"My palace forced!\" replied the sultan; \"who can have\nthat audacity?\" \"Sir,\" answered the grand vizier, \"if your\nmajesty will but cast your eyes towards the great square, and on\nthe palace walls, you will perceive the truth of what I say.\"\n\nThe sultan was so much alarmed when he saw so great a crowd, and\nhow enraged they were, that he ordered the executioner to put his\nsabre ;immediately into the scabbard, to unbind Alla ad Deen, and\nat the same time commanded the porters to declare to the people\nthat the sultan had pardoned him, and that they might retire.\n\nThose who had already got upon the walls, and were witnesses of\nwhat had passed, abandoned their design and got quickly down,\noverjoyed that they had saved the life of a man they dearly\nloved, and published the news amongst the rest, which was\npresently confirmed by the mace-bearers from the top of the\nterraces. The justice which the sultan had done to Alla ad Deen\nsoon disarmed the populace of their rage; the tumult abated, and\nthe mob dispersed.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen found himself at liberty, he turned towards the\nbalcony, and perceiving the sultan, raised his voice, and said to\nhim in a moving manner, \"I beg of your majesty to add one favour\nmore to that which I have already received, which is, to let me\nknow my crime?\" \"Your crime,\" answered the sultan; \"perfidious\nwretch! Do you not know it? Come hither, and I will shew it you.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen went up, when the sultan, going before him without\nlooking at him, said, \"Follow me;\" and then led him into his\ncloset. When he came to the door, he said, \"Go in; you ought to\nknow whereabouts your palace stood: look round and tell me what\nis become of it?\"\n\nAlla ad Deen looked, but saw nothing. He perceived the spot upon\nwhich his palace had stood; but not being able to divine how it\nhad disappeared, was thrown into such great confusion and\namazement, that he could not return one word of answer.\n\nThe sultan growing impatient, demanded of him again, \"Where is\nyour palace, and what is become of my daughter?\" Alla ad Deen,\nbreaking silence, replied, \"Sir, I perceive and own that the\npalace which I have built is not in its place, but is vanished;\nneither can I tell your majesty where it may be, but can assure\nyou I had no concern in its removal.\"\n\n\"I am not so much concerned about your palace,\" replied the\nsultan, \"I value my daughter ten thousand times more, and would\nhave you find her out, otherwise I will cause your head to be\nstruck off, and no consideration shall divert me from my\npurpose.\"\n\n\"I beg of your majesty,\" answered Alla ad Deen, \"to grant me\nforty days to make my inquiries; and if in that time I have not\nthe success I wish, I will offer my head at the foot of your\nthrone, to be disposed of at your pleasure.\" \"I give you the\nforty days you ask,\" said the sultan; \"but think not to abuse the\nfavour I shew you, by imagining you shall escape my resentment;\nfor I will find you out in whatsoever part of the world you may\nconceal yourself.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen went out of the sultan's presence with great\nhumiliation, and in a condition worthy of pity. He crossed the\ncourts of the palace, hanging down his head, and in such great\nconfusion, that he durst not lift up his eyes. The principal\nofficers of the court, who had all professed themselves his\nfriends, and whom he had never disobliged, instead of going up to\nhim to comfort him, and offer him a retreat in their houses,\nturned their backs to avoid seeing him. But had they accosted him\nwith a word of comfort or offer of service, they would have no\nmore known Alla ad Deen. He did not know himself, and was no\nlonger in his senses, as plainly appeared by his asking everybody\nhe met, and at every house, if they had seen his palace, or could\ntell him any news of it.\n\nThese questions made the generality believe that Alla ad Deen was\nmad. Some laughed at him, but people of sense and humanity,\nparticularly those who had had any connection of business or\nfriendship with him, really pitied him. For three days he rambled\nabout the city in this manner, without coming to any resolution,\nor eating anything but what some compassionate people forced him\nto take out of charity.\n\nAt last, as he could no longer in his unhappy condition stay in a\ncity where he had lately been next to the sultan, he took the\nroad to the country; and after he had traversed several fields in\nwild uncertainty, at the approach of night came to the bank of a\nriver. There, possessed by his despair, he said to himself,\n\"Where shall I seek my palace? In what province, country, or part\nof the world, shall I find that and my dear princess, whom the\nsultan expects from me? I shall never succeed; I had better free\nmyself at once from fruitless endeavours, and such bitter grief\nas preys upon me.\" He was just going to throw himself into the\nriver, but, as a good Moosulmaun, true to his religion, he\nthought he should not do it without first saying his prayers.\nGoing to prepare himself, he went to the river's brink, in order\nto perform the usual ablutions. The place being steep and\nslippery, from the water beating against it, he slid down, and\nhad certainly fallen into the river, but for a little rock which\nprojected about two feet out of the earth. Happily also for him\nhe still had on the ring which the African magician had put on\nhis finger before he went down into the subterraneous abode to\nfetch the precious lamp. In slipping down the bank he rubbed the\nring so hard by holding on the rock, that immediately the same\ngenie appeared whom he had seen in the cave where the magician\nhad left him. \"What wouldst thou have?\" said the genie. \"I am\nready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those that\nhave that ring on their finger; both I and the other slaves of\nthe ring.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen, agreeably surprised at an apparition he so little\nexpected in his present calamity, replied, \"Save my life, genie,\na second time, either by shewing me to the place where the palace\nI caused to be built now stands, or immediately transporting it\nback where it first stood.\" \"What you command me,\" answered the\ngenie, \"is not wholly in my power; I am only the slave of the\nring; you must address yourself to the slave of the lamp.\" \"If\nthat be the case,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"I command thee, by the\npower of the ring, to transport me to the spot where my palace\nstands, in what part of the world soever it may be, and set me\ndown under the window of the princess Buddir al Buddoor.\" These\nwords were no sooner out of his mouth, than the genie transported\nhim into Africa, to the midst of a large plain, where his palace\nstood, at no great distance from a city, and placing him exactly\nunder the window of the princess's apartment, left him. All this\nwas done almost in an instant.\n\nAlla ad Deen, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, knew his\npalace and the princess Buddir al Buddoor's apartment again; but\nas the night was far advanced, and all was quiet in the palace,\nhe retired to some distance, and sat down at the foot of a large\ntree. There, full of hopes, and reflecting on his happiness, for\nwhich he was indebted to chance, he found himself in a much more\ncomfortable situation than when he was arrested and carried\nbefore the sultan; being now delivered from the immediate danger\nof losing his life. He amused himself for some time with these\nagreeable thoughts; but not having slept for two days, was not\nable to resist the drowsiness which came upon him, but fell fast\nasleep.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as day appeared, Alla ad Deen was\nagreeably awakened by the singing not only of the birds which had\nroosted in the tree under which he had passed the night, but also\nof those which frequented the thick groves of the palace garden.\nWhen he cast his eyes on that wonderful edifice, he felt\ninexpressible joy at thinking he might possibly soon be master of\nit again, and once more possess his dear princess Buddir al\nBuddoor. Pleased with these hopes, he immediately arose, went\ntowards the princess's apartment, and walked some time under her\nwindow in expectation of her rising, that he might see her.\nDuring this expectation, he began to consider with himself whence\nthe cause of his misfortune had proceeded; and after mature\nreflection, no longer doubted that it was owing to having trusted\nthe lamp out of his sight. He accused himself of negligence in\nletting it be a moment away from him. But what puzzled him most\nwas, that he could not imagine who had been so envious of his\nhappiness. He would soon have guessed this, if he had known that\nboth he and his palace were in Africa, the very name of which\nwould soon have made him remember the magician his declared\nenemy; but the genie, the slave of the ring, had not made the\nleast mention of the name of the country, nor had Alla ad Deen\ninquired.\n\nThe princess rose earlier that morning than she had done since\nher transportation into Africa by the magician, whose presence\nshe was forced to support once a day, because he was master of\nthe palace; but she had always treated him so harshly that he\ndared not reside in it. As she was dressing, one of the women\nlooking through the window, perceived Alla ad Deen, and instantly\ntold her mistress. The princess, who could not believe the joyful\ntidings, hastened herself to the window, and seeing Alla ad Deen,\nimmediately opened it. The noise of opening the window made Alla\nad Deen turn his head that way, and perceiving the princess he\nsaluted her with an air that expressed his joy. \"To lose no\ntime,\" said she to him, \"I have sent to have the private door\nopened for you; enter, and come up.\"\n\nThe private door, which was just under the princess's apartment,\nwas soon opened, and Alla ad Deen conducted up into the chamber.\nIt is impossible to express the joy of both at seeing each other,\nafter so cruel a separation. After embracing and shedding tears\nof joy, they sat down, and Alla ad Deen said, \"I beg of you,\nprincess, in God's name, before we talk of anything else, to tell\nme, both for your own sake, the sultan your father's, and mine,\nwhat is become of an old lamp which I left upon a shelf in my\nrobing-chamber, when I departed for the chase.\"\n\n\"Alas! dear husband,\" answered the princess, \"I was afraid our\nmisfortune might be owing to that lamp: and what grieves me most\nis, that I have been the cause of it.\" \"Princess,\" replied Alla\nad Deen, \"do not blame yourself, since it was entirely my fault,\nfor I ought to have taken more care of it. But let us now think\nonly of repairing the loss; tell me what has happened, and into\nwhose hands it has fallen.\"\n\nThe princess then related how she had changed the old lamp for a\nnew one, which she ordered to be fetched, that he might see it,\nand how the next morning she found herself in the unknown country\nthey were then in, which she was told was Africa, by the traitor,\nwho had transported her thither by his magic art.\n\n\"Princess,\" said Alla ad Deen, interrupting her, \"you have\ninformed me who the traitor is, by telling me we are in Africa.\nHe is the most perfidious of men; but this is neither a time nor\nplace to give you a full account of his villanies. I desire you\nonly to tell me what he has done with the lamp, and where he has\nput it?\" \"He carries it carefully wrapped up in his bosom,\" said\nthe princess; \"and this I can assure you, because he pulled it\nout before me, and shewed it to me in triumph.\"\n\n\"Princess,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"do not be displeased that I\ntrouble you with so many questions, since they are equally\nimportant to us both. But to come to what most particularly\nconcerns me; tell me, I conjure you, how so wicked and perfidious\na man treats you?\" \"Since I have been here,\" replied the\nprincess, \"he repairs once every day to see me; and I am\npersuaded the little satisfaction he receives from his visits\nmakes him come no oftener. All his addresses tend to persuade me\nto break that faith I have pledged to you, and to take him for my\nhusband; giving me to understand, I need not entertain hopes of\never seeing you again, for that you were dead, having had your\nhead struck off by the sultan my father's order. He added, to\njustify himself, that you were an ungrateful wretch; that your\ngood fortune was owing to him, and a great many other things of\nthat nature which I forbear to repeat: but as he received no\nother answer from me but grievous complaints and tears, he was\nalways forced to retire with as little satisfaction as he came. I\ndoubt not his intention is to allow me time to overcome my grief,\nin hopes that afterwards I may change my sentiments; and if I\npersevere in an obstinate refusal, to use violence. But my dear\nhusband's presence removes all my apprehensions.\"\n\n\"I am confident my attempts to punish the magician will not be in\nvain,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"since my princess's fears are\nremoved, and I think I have found the means to deliver you from\nboth your enemy and mine; to execute this design, it is necessary\nfor me to go to the town. I shall return by noon, will then\ncommunicate my design, and what must be done by you to ensure\nsuccess. But that you may not be surprised, I think it proper to\nacquaint you, that I shall change my apparel, and beg of you to\ngive orders that I may not wait long at the private door, but\nthat it may be opened at the first knock;\" all which the princess\npromised to observe.\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen was out of the palace, he looked round him on\nall sides, and perceiving a peasant going into the country,\nhastened after him; and when he had overtaken him, made a\nproposal to him to change habits, which the man agreed to. When\nthey had made the exchange, the countryman went about his\nbusiness, and Alla ad Deen to the city. After traversing several\nstreets, he came to that part of the town where all descriptions\nof merchants and artisans had their particular streets, according\nto their trades. He went into that of the druggists; and going\ninto one of the largest and best furnished shops, asked the\ndruggist if he had a certain powder which he named.\n\nThe druggist, judging Alla ad Deen by his habit to be very poor,\nand that he had not money enough to pay for it, told him he had\nit, but that it was very dear; upon which Alla ad Deen penetrated\nhis thoughts, pulled out his purse, and shewing him some gold,\nasked for half a dram of the powder; which the druggist weighed,\nwrapped up in paper, and gave him, telling him the price was a\npiece of gold. Alla ad Deen put the money into his hand, and\nstaying no longer in the town than just to get a little\nrefreshment, returned to the palace, where he waited not long at\nthe private door. When he came into the princess's apartment, he\nsaid to her, \"Princess, perhaps the aversion you tell me you have\nfor your ravisher may be an objection to your executing what I am\ngoing to propose; but permit me to say it is proper that you\nshould at this juncture dissemble a little, and do violence to\nyour inclinations, if you would deliver yourself from him, and\ngive my lord the sultan your father the satisfaction of seeing\nyou again. \"If you will take my advice,\" continued he, \"dress\nyourself this moment in one of your richest habits, and when the\nAfrican magician comes, make no difficulty to give him the best\nreception; receive him with a cheerful countenance, so that he\nmay imagine time has removed your affliction and disgust at his\naddresses. In your conversation, let him understand that you\nstrive to forget me; and that he may be the more fully convinced\nof your sincerity, invite him to sup with you, and tell him you\nshould be glad to taste of some of the best wines of his country.\nHe will presently go to fetch you some. During his absence, put\ninto one of the cups you are accustomed to drink out of this\npowder, and setting it by, charge the slave you may order that\nnight to attend you, on a signal you shall agree upon, to bring\nthat cup to you. When the magician and you have eaten and drunk\nas much as you choose, let her bring you the cup, and then change\ncups with him. He will esteem it so great a favour that he will\nnot refuse, but eagerly quaff it off; but no sooner will he have\ndrunk, than you will see him fall backwards. If you have any\nreluctance to drink out of his cup, you may pretend only to do\nit, without fear of being discovered; for the effect of the\npowder is so quick, that he will not have time to know whether\nyou drink or not.\"\n\nWhen Alla ad Deen had finished, \"I own,\" answered the princess,\n\"I shall do myself great violence in consenting to make the\nmagician such advances as I see are absolutely necessary; but\nwhat cannot one resolve to do against a cruel enemy? I will\ntherefore follow your advice, since both my repose and yours\ndepend upon it. \"After the princess had agreed to the measures\nproposed by Alla ad Deen, he took his leave, and went and spent\nthe rest of the day in the neighbourhood of the palace till it\nwas night, and he might safely return to the private door.\n\nThe princess, who had remained inconsolable at being separated\nnot only from her husband, whom she had loved from the first\nmoment, and still continued to love more out of inclination than\nduty, but also from the sultan her father, who had always showed\nthe most tender and paternal affection for her, had, ever since\ntheir cruel separation, lived in great neglect of her person. She\nhad almost forgotten the neatness so becoming persons of her sex\nand quality, particularly after the first time the magician paid\nher a visit; and she had understood by some of the women, who\nknew him again, that it was he who had taken the old lamp in\nexchange for a new one, which rendered the sight of him more\nabhorred. However, the opportunity of taking the revenge he\ndeserved made her resolve to gratify Alla ad Deen. As soon,\ntherefore, as he was gone, she sat down to dress, and was attired\nby her women to the best advantage in the richest habit of her\nwardrobe. Her girdle was of the finest and largest diamonds set\nin gold, her necklace of pearls, six on a side, so well\nproportioned to that in the middle, which was the largest ever\nseen, and invaluable, that the greatest sultanesses would have\nbeen proud to have been adorned with only two of the smallest.\nHer bracelets, which were of diamonds and rubies intermixed,\ncorresponded admirably to the richness of the girdle and\nnecklace.\n\nWhen the princess Buddir al Buddoor was completely dressed, she\nconsulted her glass and women upon her adjustment; and when she\nfound she wanted no charms to flatter the foolish passion of the\nAfrican magician, she sat down on a sofa expecting his arrival.\n\nThe magician came at the usual hour, and as soon as he entered\nthe great hall where the princess waited to receive him, she rose\nwith an enchanting grace and smile, and pointed with her hand to\nthe most honourable place, waiting till he sat down, that she\nmight sit at the same time which was a civility she had never\nshown him before.\n\nThe African magician, dazzled more with the lustre of the\nprincess's eyes than the glittering of the jewels with which she\nwas adorned, was much surprised. The smiling and graceful air\nwith which she received him, so opposite to her former behaviour,\nquite fascinated his heart.\n\nWhen he was seated, the princess, to free him from his\nembarrassment, broke silence first, locking at him all the time\nin such a manner as to make him believe that he was not so odious\nto her as she had given him to understand hitherto and said, \"You\nare doubtless amazed to find me so much altered to-day; but your\nsurprise will not be so great when I acquaint you, that I am\nnaturally of a disposition so opposite to melancholy and grief,\nsorrow and uneasiness, that I always strive to put them as far\naway as possible when I find the subject of them is past. I have\nreflected on what you told me of Alla ad Deen's fate, and know my\nfather's temper so well, that I am persuaded with you he could\nnot escape the terrible effects of the sultan's rage; therefore,\nshould I continue to lament him all my life, my tears cannot\nrecall him. For this reason, since I have paid all the duties\ndecency requires of me to his memory, now he is in the grave I\nthink I ought to endeavour to comfort myself. These are the\nmotives of the change you see in me; I am resolved to banish\nmelancholy entirely; and, persuaded that you will bear me company\ntonight, I have ordered a supper to be prepared; but as I have no\nwines but those of China, I have a great desire to taste of the\nproduce of Africa, and doubt not your procuring some of the\nbest.\"\n\nThe African magician, who had looked upon the happiness of\ngetting so soon and so easily into the princess Buddir al\nBuddoor's good graces as impossible, could not think of words\nexpressive enough to testify how sensible he was of her favours:\nbut to put an end the sooner to a conversation which would have\nembarrassed him, if he had engaged farther in it, he turned it\nupon the wines of Africa, and said, \"Of all the advantages Africa\ncan boast, that of producing the most excellent wines is one of\nthe principal. I have a vessel of seven years old, which has\nnever been broached; and it is indeed not praising it too much to\nsay it is the finest wine in the world. If my princess,\" added\nhe, \"will give me leave, I will go and fetch two bottles, and\nreturn again immediately.\" \"I should be sorry to give you that\ntrouble,\" replied the princess; \"you had better send for them.\"\n\"It is necessary I should go myself,\" answered the African\nmagician; \"for nobody but myself knows where the key of the\ncellar is laid, or has the secret to unlock the door.\" \"If it be\nso,\" said the princess, \"make haste back; for the longer you\nstay, the greater will be my impatience, and we shall sit down to\nsupper as soon as you return.\"\n\nThe African magician, full of hopes of his expected happiness,\nrather flew than ran, and returned quickly with the wine. The\nprincess, not doubting but he would make haste, put with her own\nhand the powder Alla ad Deen had given her into the cup set apart\nfor that purpose. They sat down at the table opposite to each\nother, the magician's back towards the sideboard. The princess\npresented him with the best at the table, and said to him, \"If\nyou please, I will entertain you with a concert of vocal and\ninstrumental music; but, as we are only two, I think conversation\nmaybe more agreeable.\" This the magician took as a new favour.\n\nAfter they had eaten some time, the princess called for some\nwine, drank the magician's health, and afterwards said to him,\n\"Indeed you had a full right to commend your wine, since I never\ntasted any so delicious.\" \"Charming princess,\" said he, holding\nin his hand the cup which had been presented to him,\" my wine\nbecomes more exquisite by your approbation.\" \"Then drink my\nhealth,\" replied the princess; \"you will find I understand\nwines.\" He drank the princess's health, and returning the cup,\nsaid, \"I think myself fortunate, princess, that I reserved this\nwine for so happy an occasion; and own I never before drank any\nin every respect so excellent.\"\n\nWhen they had each drunk two or three cups more, the princess,\nwho had completely charmed the African magician by her civility\nand obliging behaviour, gave the signal to the slave who served\nthem with wine, bidding her bring the cup which had been filled\nfor her, and at the same time bring the magician a full goblet.\nWhen they both had their cups in their hands, she said to him, \"I\nknow not how you express your loves in these parts when drinking\ntogether? With us in China the lover and his mistress\nreciprocally exchange cups, and drink each other's health.\" At\nthe same time she presented to him the cup which was in her hand,\nand held out her hand to receive his. He hastened to make the\nexchange with the more pleasure, because he looked upon this\nfavour as the most certain token of an entire conquest over the\nprincess, which raised his rapture to the highest pitch. Before\nhe drank, he said to her, with the cup in his hand, \"Indeed,\nprincess, we Africans are not so refined in the art of love as\nyou Chinese: and your instructing me in a lesson I was ignorant\nof, informs me how sensible I ought to be of the favour done me.\nI shall never, lovely princess, forget my recovering, by drinking\nout of your cup, that life, which your cruelty, had it continued,\nmust have made me despair of.\"\n\nThe princess, who began to be tired with this impertinent\ndeclaration of the African magician, interrupted him, and said,\n\"Let us drink first, and then say what you will afterwards;\" at\nthe same time she set the cup to her lips, while the African\nmagician, who was eager to get his wine off first, drank up the\nvery last drop. In finishing it, he had reclined his head back to\nshew his eagerness, and remained some time in that state. The\nprincess kept the cup at her lips, till she saw his eyes turn in\nhis head, when he fell backwards lifeless on the sofa.\n\nThe princess had no occasion to order the private door to be\nopened to Alla ad Deen; for her women were so disposed from the\ngreat hall to the foot of the staircase, that the word was no\nsooner given that the African magician was fallen backwards, than\nthe door was immediately opened.\n\nAs soon as Alla ad Deen entered the hall, he saw the magician\nstretched backwards on the sofa. The princess rose from her seat,\nand ran overjoyed to embrace him; but he stopped her, and said,\n\"Princess, it is not yet time; oblige me by retiring to your\napartment; and let me be left alone a moment, while I endeavour\nto transport you back to China as speedily as you were brought\nfrom thence.\"\n\nWhen the princess, her women and eunuchs, were gone out of the\nhall, Alla ad Deen shut the door, and going directly to the dead\nbody of the magician, opened his vest, took out the lamp, which\nwas carefully wrapped up, as the princess had told him, and\nunfolding and rubbing it, the genie immediately appeared.\n\"Genie,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"I have called to command thee, on\nthe part of thy good mistress this lamp, to transport this palace\ninstantly into China, to the place from whence it was brought\nhither.\" The genie bowed his head in token of obedience, and\ndisappeared. Immediately the palace was transported into China,\nand its removal was only felt by two little shocks, the one when\nit was lifted up, the other when it was set down, and both in a\nvery short interval of time.\n\nAlla ad Deen went to the princess's apartment, and embracing her,\nsaid, \"I can assure you, princess, that your joy and mine will be\ncomplete tomorrow morning.\" The princess, guessing that Alla ad\nDeen must be hungry, ordered the dishes, served up in the great\nhall, to be brought down. The princess and Alla ad Deen ate as\nmuch as they thought fit, and drank of the African magician's old\nwine; during which time their conversation could not be otherwise\nthan satisfactory, and then they retired to their own chamber.\n\n>From the time of the transportation of Alla ad Deen's palace,\nthe princess's father had been inconsolable for the loss of her.\nHe could take no rest, and instead of avoiding what might\ncontinue his affliction, he indulged it without restraint. Before\nthe disaster he used to go every morning into his closet to\nplease himself with viewing the palace, he went now many times in\nthe day to renew his tears, and plunge himself into the deepest\nmelancholy, by the idea of no more seeing that which once gave\nhim so much pleasure, and reflecting how he had lost what was\nmost dear to him in this world.\n\nThe very morning of the return of Alla ad Deen's palace, the\nsultan went, by break of day, into his closet to indulge his\nsorrows. Absorbed in himself, and in a pensive mood, he cast his\neyes towards the spot, expecting only to see an open space; but\nperceiving the vacancy filled up, he at first imagined the\nappearance to be the effect of a fog; looking more attentively,\nhe was convinced beyond the power of doubt it was his son-in-\nlaw's palace. Joy and gladness succeeded to sorrow and grief. He\nreturned immediately into his apartment, and ordered a horse to\nbe saddled and brought to him without delay, which he mounted\nthat instant, thinking he could not make haste enough to the\npalace.\n\nAlla ad Deen, who foresaw what would happen, rose that morning by\nday-break, put on one of the most magnificent habits his wardrobe\nafforded, and went up into the hall of twenty-four windows, from\nwhence he perceived the sultan approaching, and got down soon\nenough to receive him at the foot of the great staircase, and to\nhelp him to dismount. \"Alla ad Deen,\" said the sultan, \"I cannot\nspeak to you till I have seen and embraced my daughter.\"\n\nHe led the sultan into the princess's apartment. The happy father\nembraced her with his face bathed in tears of joy; and the\nprincess, on her side, shewed him all the testimonies of the\nextreme pleasure the sight of him afforded her.\n\nThe sultan was some time before he could open his lips, so great\nwas his surprise and joy to find his daughter again, after he had\ngiven her up for lost; and the princess, upon seeing her father,\nlet fall tears of rapture and affection.\n\nAt last the sultan broke silence, and said, \"I would believe,\ndaughter, your joy to see me makes you seem as little changed as\nif no misfortune had befallen you; yet I cannot be persuaded but\nthat you have suffered much alarm; for a large palace cannot be\nso suddenly transported as yours has been, without causing great\nfright and apprehension I would have you tell me all that has\nhappened, and conceal nothing from me.\"\n\nThe princess, who took great pleasure in giving the sultan the\nsatisfaction he demanded, said, \"If I appear so little altered, I\nbeg of your majesty to consider that I received new life\nyesterday morning by the presence of my dear husband and\ndeliverer Alla ad Deen, whom I looked upon and bewailed as lost\nto me; and the happiness of seeing and embracing of whom has\nalmost recovered me to my former state of health. My greatest\nsuffering was only to find myself forced from your majesty and my\ndear husband; not only from the love I bore my husband, but from\nthe uneasiness I laboured under through fear that he, though\ninnocent, might feel the effects of your anger, to which I knew\nhe was left exposed. I suffered but little from the insolence of\nthe wretch who had carried me off; for having secured the\nascendant over him, I always put a stop to his disagreeable\novertures, and was as little constrained as I am at present.\n\n\"As to what relates to my transportation, Alla ad Deen had no\nconcern in it; I was myself the innocent cause of it.\" To\npersuade the sultan of the truth of what she said, she gave him a\nfull account of how the African magician had disguised himself,\nand offered to change new lamps for old ones; how she had amused\nherself in making that exchange, being entirely ignorant of the\nsecret and importance of the wonderful lamp; how the palace and\nherself were carried away and transported into Africa, with the\nAfrican magician, who was recognised by two of her women and the\neunuch who made the exchange of the lamp, when he had the\naudacity, after the success of his daring enterprise, to propose\nhimself for her husband; how he persecuted her till Alla ad\nDeen's arrival; how they had concerted measures to get the lamp\nfrom him again, and the success they had fortunately met with by\nher dissimulation in inviting him to supper, and giving him the\ncup with the powder prepared for him. \"For the rest,\" added she,\n\"I leave it to Alla ad Deen to recount.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen had not much to tell the sultan, but only said,\n\"When the private door was opened I went up into the great hall,\nwhere I found the magician lying dead on the sofa, and as I\nthought it not proper for the princess to stay there any longer,\nI desired her to go down into her own apartment, with her women\nand eunuchs. As soon as I was alone, and had taken the lamp out\nof the magician's breast, I made use of the same secret he had\ndone, to remove the palace, and carry off the princess; and by\nthat means the palace was re-conveyed to the place where it stood\nbefore; and I have the happiness to restore the princess to your\nmajesty, as you commanded me. But that your majesty may not think\nthat I impose upon you, if you will give yourself the trouble to\ngo up into the hall, you may see the magician punished as he\ndeserved.\"\n\nThe sultan, to be assured of the truth, rose instantly, and went\ninto the hall, where, when he saw the African magician dead, and\nhis face already livid by the strength of the poison, he embraced\nAlla ad Deen with great tenderness, and said, \"My son, be not\ndispleased at my proceedings against you; they arose from my\npaternal love; and therefore you ought to forgive the excesses to\nwhich it hurried me.\" \"Sir,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"I have not\nthe least reason to complain of your majesty's conduct, since you\ndid nothing but what your duty required. This infamous magician,\nthe basest of men, was the sole cause of my misfortune. When your\nmajesty has leisure, I will give you an account of another\nvillanous action he was guilty of towards me, which was no less\nblack and base than this, from which I was preserved by the\nprovidence of God in a very miraculous way.\" \"I will take an\nopportunity, and that very shortly,\" replied the sultan, \"to hear\nit; but in the mean time let us think only of rejoicing, and the\nremoval of this odious object.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen ordered the magician's corpse to be removed and\nthrown upon a dunghill, for birds and beasts to prey upon. In the\nmean time, the sultan commanded the drums, trumpets, cymbals, and\nother instruments of music to announce his joy to the public, and\na festival of ten days to be proclaimed for the return of the\nprincess and Alla ad Deen.\n\nThus Alla ad Deen escaped once more the almost inevitable danger\nof losing his life; but this was not the last, since he ran as\ngreat a hazard a third time.\n\nThe African magician had a younger brother, who was equally\nskilful as a necromancer, and even surpassed him in villany and\npernicious designs. As they did not live together, or in the same\ncity, but oftentimes when one was in the east, the other was in\nthe west, they failed not every year to inform themselves, by\ntheir art, each where the other resided, and whether they stood\nin need of one another's assistance.\n\nSome time after the African magician had failed in his enterprise\nagainst Alla ad Deen, his younger brother, who had heard no\ntidings of him, and was not in Africa, but in a distant country,\nhad the wish to know in what part of the world he sojourned, the\nstate of his health, and what he was doing; and as he, as well as\nhis brother, always carried a geomantic square instrument about\nhim, he prepared the sand, cast the points, and drew the figures.\nOn examining the planetary mansions, he found that his brother\nwas no longer living, but had been poisoned; and by another\nobservation, that he was in the capital of the kingdom of China;\nalso that the person who had poisoned him was of mean birth,\nthough married to a princess, a sultan's daughter.\n\nWhen the magician had informed himself of his brother's fate, he\nlost no time in useless regret, which could not restore him to\nlife; but resolving immediately to revenge his death, departed\nfor China; where, after crossing plains, rivers, mountains,\ndeserts, and a long tract of country without delay, he arrived\nafter incredible fatigues.\n\nWhen he came to the capital of China, he took a lodging. The next\nday he walked through the town, not so much to observe the\nbeauties, which were indifferent to him, as to take proper\nmeasures to execute his pernicious designs. He introduced himself\ninto the most frequented places, where he listened to everybody's\ndiscourse. In a place where people resort to divert themselves\nwith games of various kinds, and where some were conversing,\nwhile others played, he heard some persons talk of the virtue and\npiety of a woman called Fatima, who was retired from the world,\nand of the miracles she wrought. As he fancied that this woman\nmight be serviceable to him in the project he had conceived, he\ntook one of the company aside, and requested to be informed more\nparticularly who that holy woman was, and what sort of miracles\nshe performed.\n\n\"What!\" said the person whom he addressed, \"have you never seen\nor heard of her? She is the admiration of the whole town, for her\nfasting, her austerities, and her exemplary life. Except Mondays\nand Fridays, she never stirs out of her little cell; and on those\ndays on which she comes into the town she does an infinite deal\nof good; for there is not a person that has the headache but is\ncured by her laying her hand upon them.\"\n\nThe magician wanted no further information. He only asked the\nperson in what part of the town this holy woman's cell was\nsituated. After he had informed himself on this head, he\ndetermined on the detestable design of murdering her and assuming\nher character. With this view he watched all her steps the first\nday she went out after he had made this inquiry, without losing\nsight of her till evening, when he saw her re-enter her cell.\nWhen he had fully observed the place, he went to one of those\nhouses where they sell a certain hot liquor, and where any person\nmay pass the night, particularly in the great heats, when the\npeople of that country prefer lying on a mat to a bed. About\nmidnight, after the magician had satisfied the master of the\nhouse for what little he had called for, he went out, and\nproceeded directly to the cell of Fatima. He had no difficulty to\nopen the door, which was only fastened with a latch, and he shut\nit again after he had entered, without any noise. When he entered\nthe cell, he perceived Fatima by moonlight lying in the air on a\nsofa covered only by an old mat, with her head leaning against\nthe wall. He awakened her, and clapped a dagger to her breast.\n\nThe pious Fatima opening her eyes, was much surprised to see a\nman with a dagger at her breast ready to stab her, and who said\nto her, \"If you cry out, or make the least noise, I will kill\nyou; but get up, and do as I shall direct you.\"\n\nFatima, who had lain down in her habit, got up, trembling with\nfear. \"Do not be so much frightened,\" said the magician; \"I only\nwant your habit, give it me and take mine.\" Accordingly Fatima\nand he changed clothes. He then said to her, \"Colour my face,\nthat I may be like you;\" but perceiving that the poor creature\ncould not help trembling, to encourage her he said, \"I tell you\nagain you need not fear anything: I swear by the name of God I\nwill not take away your life.\" Fatima lighted her lamp, led him\ninto the cell, and dipping a soft brush in a certain liquor,\nrubbed it over his face, assured him the colour would not change,\nand that his face was of the same hue as her own: after which,\nshe put her own head-dress on his head, also a veil, with which\nshe shewed him how to hide his face as he passed through the\ntown. After this, she put a long string of beads about his neck,\nwhich hung down to the middle of his body, and giving him the\nstick she used to walk with in his hand, brought him a looking-\nglass, and bade him look if he was not as like her as possible.\nThe magician found himself disguised as he wished to be; but he\ndid not keep the oath he so solemnly swore to the good Fatima;\nbut instead of stabbing her, for fear the blood might discover\nhim, he strangled her; and when he found she was dead, threw her\nbody into a cistern just by the cell.\n\nThe magician, thus disguised like the holy woman Fatima, spent\nthe remainder of the night in the cell. The next morning, two\nhours after sunrise, though it was not a day the holy woman used\nto go out on, he crept out of the cell, being well persuaded that\nnobody would ask him any questions; or, if they should, he had an\nanswer ready for them. As one of the first things he did after\nhis arrival was to find out Alla ad Deen's palace, where he was\nto complete his designs, he went directly thither.\n\nAs soon as the people saw the holy woman, as they imagined him to\nbe, they presently gathered about him in a great crowd. Some\nbegged his blessing, others kissed his hand, and others, more\nreserved, only the hem of his garment; while others, whether\ntheir heads ached, or they wished to be preserved against that\ndisorder, stooped for him to lay his hands upon them; which he\ndid, muttering some words in form of prayer; and, in short,\ncounterfeited so well, that everybody took him for the holy\nwoman.\n\nAfter frequently stopping to satisfy people of this description,\nwho received neither good nor harm from this imposition of hands,\nhe came at last to the square before Alla ad Deen's palace. The\ncrowd was so great that the eagerness to get at him increased in\nproportion. Those who were the most zealous and strong forced\ntheir way through the crowd. There were such quarrels, and so\ngreat a noise, that the princess, who was in the hall of four-\nand-twenty windows, heard it, and asked what was the matter; but\nnobody being able to give her an answer, she ordered them to\ninquire and inform her. One of her women looked out of a window,\nand then told her it was a great crowd of people collected about\nthe holy woman to be cured of the headache by the imposition of\nher hands.\n\nThe princess, who had long heard of this holy woman, but had\nnever seen her, was very desirous to have some conversation with\nher, which the chief of the eunuchs perceiving, told her it was\nan easy matter to bring her to her, if she desired and commanded\nit; and the princess expressing her wishes, he immediately sent\nfour eunuchs for the pretended holy woman.\n\nAs soon as the crowd saw the eunuchs, they made way, and the\nmagician perceiving also that they were coming for him, advanced\nto meet them, overjoyed to find his plot proceeded so well. \"Holy\nwoman,\" said one of the eunuchs, \"the princess wants to see you,\nand has sent us for you.\" \"The princess does me too great an\nhonour,\" replied the false Fatima; \"I am ready to obey her\ncommand,\" and at the same time followed the eunuchs to the\npalace.\n\nWhen the magician, who under a holy garment disguised a wicked\nheart, was introduced into the great hall, and perceived the\nprincess, he began a prayer, which contained a long enumeration\nof vows and good wishes for the princess's health and prosperity,\nand that she might have every thing she desired. He then\ndisplayed all his hypocritical rhetoric, to insinuate himself\ninto the princess's favour under the cloak of piety, which it was\nno hard matter for him to do; for as the princess herself was\nnaturally good, she was easily persuaded that all the world were\nlike her, especially those who made profession of serving God in\nsolitude.\n\nWhen the pretended Fatima had finished his long harangue, the\nprincess said to him, \"I thank you, good mother, for your\nprayers: I have great confidence in them, and hope God will hear\nthem. Come, and sit by me.\" The false Fatima sat down with\naffected modesty: the princess then resuming her discourse, said,\n\"My good mother, I have one thing to request, which you must not\nrefuse me; it is to stay with me, that you may edify me with your\nway of living; and that I may learn from your good example how to\nserve God.\" \"Princess,\" said the counterfeit Fatima, \"I beg of\nyou not to ask what I cannot consent to, without neglecting my\nprayers and devotion.\" \"That shall be no hinderance to you,\"\nanswered the princess; \"I have a great many apartments\nunoccupied; you shall choose which you like best, and have as\nmuch liberty to perform your devotions as if you were in your own\ncell.\"\n\nThe magician, who desired nothing more than to introduce himself\ninto the palace, where it would be a much easier matter for him\nto execute his designs, under the favour and protection of the\nprincess, than if he had been forced to come and go from the cell\nto the palace, did not urge much to excuse himself from accepting\nthe obliging offer which the princess made him. \"Princess,\" said\nhe, \"whatever resolution a poor wretched woman as I am may have\nmade me renounce the pomp and grandeur of this world, I dare not\npresume to oppose the will and commands of so pious and\ncharitable a princess.\"\n\nUpon this the princess, rising up, said, \"Come with me, I will\nshew you what vacant apartments I have, that you may make choice\nof that you like best.\" The magician followed the princess, and\nof all the apartments she shewed him, made choice of that which\nwas the worst furnished, saying it was too good for him, and that\nhe only accepted of it to please her.\n\nAfterwards the princess would have brought him back again into\nthe great hall to make him dine with her; but he considering that\nhe should then be obliged to shew his face, which he had always\ntaken care to conceal; and fearing that the princess should find\nout that he was not Fatima, he begged of her earnestly to excuse\nhim, telling her that he never ate anything but bread and dried\nfruits, and desiring to eat that slight repast in his own\napartment. The princess granted his request, saying, \"You may be\nas free here, good mother, as if you were in your own cell: I\nwill order you a dinner, but remember I expect you as soon as you\nhave finished your repast.\"\n\nAfter the princess had dined, and the false Fatima had been\ninformed by one of the eunuchs that she was risen from table, he\nfailed not to wait upon her. \"My good mother,\" said the princess,\n\"I am overjoyed to have the company of so holy a woman as\nyourself, who will confer a blessing upon this palace. But now I\nam speaking of the palace, pray how do you like it? And before I\nshew it all to you, tell me first what you think of this hall.\"\n\nUpon this question, the counterfeit Fatima, who, to act his part\nthe better, affected to hang down his head, without so much as\never once lifting it, at last looked up, and surveyed the hall\nfrom one end to the other. When he had examined it well, he said\nto the princess, \"As far as such a solitary being as I am, who am\nunacquainted with what the world calls beautiful, can judge, this\nhall is truly admirable and most beautiful; there wants but one\nthing.\" \"What is that, good mother?\" demanded the princess; \"tell\nme, I conjure you. For my part, I always believed, and have heard\nsay, it wanted nothing; but if it does, it shall be supplied.\"\n\n\"Princess,\" said the false Fatima, with great dissimulation,\n\"forgive me the liberty I have taken; but my opinion is, if it\ncan be of any importance, that if a roe's egg were hung up in the\nmiddle of the dome, this hall would have no parallel in the four\nquarters of the world, and your palace would be the wonder of the\nunit verse.\"\n\n\"My good mother,\" said the princess, \"what bird is a roe, and\nwhere may one get an egg?\" \"Princess,\" replied the pretended\nFatima, \"it is a bird of prodigious size, which inhabits the\nsummit of mount Caucasus; the architect who built your palace can\nget you one.\"\n\nAfter the princess had thanked the false Fatima for what she\nbelieved her good advice, she conversed with her upon other\nmatters; but could not forget the roe's egg, which she resolved\nto request of Alla ad Deen when he returned from hunting. He had\nbeen gone six days, which the magician knew, and therefore took\nadvantage of his absence; but he returned that evening after the\nfalse Fatima had taken leave of the princess, and retired to his\napartment. As soon as he arrived, he went directly to the\nprincess's apartment, saluted and embraced her, but she seemed to\nreceive him coldly. \"My princess,\" said he, \"I think you are not\nso cheerful as you used to be; has any thing happened during my\nabsence, which has displeased you, or given you any trouble or\ndissatisfaction In the name of God, do not conceal it from me; I\nwill leave nothing undone that is in my power to please you.\" \"It\nis a trifling matter,\" replied the princess, \"which gives me so\nlittle concern that I could not have thought you could have\nperceived it in my countenance; but since you have unexpectedly\ndiscovered some alteration, I will no longer disguise a matter of\nso little consequence from you.\"\n\n\"I always believed,\" continued the princess,\" that our palace was\nthe most superb, magnificent, and complete in the world: but I\nwill tell you now what I find fault with, upon examining the hall\nof four-and-twenty windows. Do not you think with me, that it\nwould be complete if a roe's egg were hung up in the midst of the\ndome?\" \"Princess,\" replied Alla ad Deen, \"it is enough that you\nthink there wants such an ornament; you shall see by the\ndiligence used to supply that deficiency, that there is nothing\nwhich I would not do for your sake.\"\n\nAlla ad Deen left the princess Buddir al Buddoor that moment, and\nwent up into the hall of four-and-twenty windows, where pulling\nout of his bosom the lamp, which, after the danger he had been\nexposed to, he always carried about him, he rubbed it; upon which\nthe genie immediately appeared. \"Genie,\" said Alla ad Deen,\n\"there wants a roe's egg to be hung up in the midst of the dome;\nI command thee, in the name of this lamp, to repair the\ndeficiency.\" Alla ad Deen had no sooner pronounced these words,\nthan the genie gave so loud and terrible a cry, that the hall\nshook, and Alla ad Deen could scarcely stand upright. \"What!\nwretch,\" said the genie, in a voice that would have made the most\nundaunted man tremble, \"is it not enough that I and my companions\nhave done every thing for you, but you, by an unheard-of\ningratitude, must command me to bring my master, and hang him up\nin the midst of this dome? This attempt deserves that you, your\nwife, and your palace, should be immediately reduced to ashes:\nbut you are happy that this request does not come from yourself.\nKnow then, that the true author is the brother of the African\nmagician, your enemy, whom you have destroyed as he deserved. He\nis now in your palace, disguised in the habit of the holy woman\nFatima, whom he has murdered; and it is he who has suggested to\nyour wife to make this pernicious demand. His design is to kill\nyou, therefore take care of yourself.\" After these words, the\ngenie disappeared.\n\nAlla ad Deen lost not a word of what the genie had said. He had\nheard talk of the holy woman Fatima, and how she pretended to\ncure the headache. He returned to the princess's apartment, and\nwithout mentioning a word of what had happened, sat down, and\ncomplained of a great pain which had suddenly seized his head;\nupon which the princess ordered the holy woman to be called, and\nthen told him how she had invited her to the palace, and that she\nhad appointed her an apartment.\n\nWhen the pretended Fatima came, Alla ad Deen said, \"Come hither,\ngood mother; I am glad to see you here at so fortunate a time; I\nam tormented with a violent pain in my head, and request your\nassistance, by the confidence I have in your good prayers, and\nhope you will not refuse me that favour which you do to so many\npersons afflicted with this complaint.\" So saying, he arose, but\nheld down his head. The counterfeit Fatima advanced towards him,\nwith his hand all the time on a dagger concealed in his girdle\nunder his gown; which Alla ad Deen observing, he seized his hand\nbefore he had drawn it, pierced him to the heart with his own\ndagger, and then pushed him down on the floor.\n\n\"My dear husband, what have you done?\" cried the princess in\nsurprise. \"You have killed the holy woman.\" \"No, my princess,\"\nanswered Alla ad Deen, with emotion, \"I have not killed Fatima,\nbut a villain, who would have assassinated me, if I had not\nprevented him. This wicked wretch,\" added he, uncovering his\nface, \"has strangled Fatima, whom you accuse me of killing, and\ndisguised himself in her clothes with intent to murder me: but\nthat you may know him better, he is brother to the African\nmagician.\" Alla ad Deen then informed her how he came to know\nthese particulars, and afterwards ordered the dead body to be\ntaken away.\n\nThus was Alla ad Deen delivered from the persecution of two\nbrothers, who were magicians. Within a few years afterwards, the\nsultan died in a good old age, and as he left no male children,\nthe princess Buddir al Buddoor, as lawful heir of the throne,\nsucceeded him, and communicating the power to Alla ad Deen, they\nreigned together many years, and left a numerous and illustrious\nposterity.\n\n\n\n\n\n               ADVENTURE OF THE CALIPH HAROON AL\n                            RUSHEED.\n\n\n\nThe caliph Haroon al Rusheed was one day suffering from\ndepression of spirits, when his faithful and favourite grand\nvizier Jaaffier came to him. This minister finding him alone,\nwhich was seldom the case, and perceiving as he approached that\nhe was in a very melancholy humour, and never lifted up his eyes,\nstopped till he should vouchsafe to look at him.\n\nAt last the caliph turned his eyes towards him, but presently\nwithdrew them again, and remained in the same posture motionless\nas before.\n\nThe grand vizier, observing nothing in the caliph's eyes which\nregarded him personally, took the liberty to speak to him, and\nsaid, \"Commander of the faithful, will your majesty give me leave\nto ask whence proceeds this melancholy, of which you always\nseemed to me so little susceptible?\"\n\n\"Indeed, vizier,\" answered the caliph, brightening up his\ncountenance, \"I am very little subject to it, and had not\nperceived it but for you, but I will remain no longer in this\nhippish mood. If no new affair brought you hither, you will\ngratify me by inventing something to dispel it.\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" replied the grand vizier, \"my duty\nobliged me to wait on you, and I take the liberty to remind your\nmajesty, that this is the day which you have appointed to inform\nyourself of the good government of your capital and its environs;\nand this occasion very opportunely presents itself to dispel\nthose clouds which obscure your natural gaiety.\"\n\n\"You do well to remind me,\" replied the caliph, \"for I had\nentirely forgotten it; go and change your dress, while I do the\nsame.\"\n\nThey each put on the habit of a foreign merchant, and under that\ndisguise went out by a private door of the palace-garden, which\nled into the country. After they had gone round part of the city\nto the banks of the Euphrates, at some distance from the walls,\nwithout having observed anything disorderly, they crossed the\nriver in the first boat they met, and making a tour on the other\nside, crossed the bridge, which formed the communication betwixt\nthe two parts of the town.\n\nAt the foot of this bridge they met an old blind man, who asked\nalms of them; the caliph turned about, and put a piece of gold\ninto his hand. The blind man instantly caught hold of his hand,\nand stopped him; \"Charitable person,\" said he, \"whoever you are,\nwhom God hath inspired to bestow alms on me, do not refuse the\nfavour I ask of you, to give me a box on the ear, for I deserve\nthat, and a greater punishment.\" Having thus spoken, he let the\ncaliph's hand go, that he might strike, but for fear he should\npass on without doing it, held him fast by his clothes.\n\nThe caliph, surprised both at the words and action of the blind\nman, said, \"I cannot comply with your request. I will not lessen\nthe merit of my charity, by treating you as you would have me.\"\nAfter these words, he endeavoured to get away from the blind man.\n\n\nThe blind man, who expected this reluctance of his benefactor,\nexerted himself to detain him. \"Sir,\" said he, \"forgive my\nboldness and importunity; I desire you would either give me a box\non the ear, or take your alms back again, for I cannot receive it\nbut on that condition, without breaking a solemn oath, which I\nhave sworn to God; and if you knew the reason, you would agree\nwith me that the punishment is very slight.\"\n\nThe caliph, unwilling to be detained any longer, yielded to the\nimportunity of the blind man, and gave him a very slight blow:\nwhereupon he immediately let him go, thanked and blessed him.\nWhen the caliph and vizier had got so me small distance from the\nblind man, the caliph said to Jaaffier, \"This blind man must\ncertainly have some very uncommon reasons, which make him behave\nhimself in this manner to all who give him alms. I should be glad\nto know them; therefore return, tell him who I am, and bid him\nnot fail to come to my palace about prayer-time in the afternoon\nof to-morrow, that I may have some conversation with him.\"\n\nThe grand vizier returned, bestowed his alms on the blind man,\nand after he had given him a box on the ear, told him the\ncaliph's order, and then returned to the caliph.\n\nWhen they came into the town, they found in a square a great\ncrowd of spectators, looking at a handsome well-shaped young man,\nwho was mounted on a mare, which he drove and urged full speed\nround the place, spurring and whipping the poor creature so\nbarbarously, that she was all over sweat and blood.\n\nThe caliph, amazed at the inhumanity of the rider, stopped to ask\nthe people if they knew why he used the mare so ill; but could\nlearn nothing, except that for some time past he had every day,\nat the same hour, treated her in the same manner.\n\nAt they went along, the caliph bade the grand vizier take\nparticular notice of the place, and not fail to order the young\nman to attend the next day at the hour appointed to the blind\nman. But before the caliph got to his palace, he observed in a\nstreet, which he had not passed through a long time before, an\nedifice newly built, which seemed to him to be the palace of some\none of the great lords of the court. He asked the grand vizier if\nhe knew to whom it belonged; who answered he did not, but would\ninquire; and thereupon asked a neighbour, who told him that the\nhouse was that of one Khaujeh Hassan, surnamed Al Hubbaul, on\naccount of his original trade of rope-making, which he had seen\nhim work at himself, when poor; that without knowing how fortune\nhad favoured him, he supposed he must have acquired great wealth,\nas he defrayed honourably and splendidly the expenses he had been\nat in building.\n\nThe grand vizier rejoined the caliph, and gave him a full account\nof what he had heard. \"I must see this fortunate rope-maker,\"\nsaid the caliph, \"therefore go and tell him to come to my palace\nat the same hour you have ordered the other two.\" Accordingly the\nvizier obeyed.\n\nThe next day, after afternoon prayers, the caliph retired to his\nown apartment, when the grand vizier introduced the three persons\nwe have been speaking of, and presented them to the caliph.\n\nThey all three prostrated themselves before the throne, and when\nthey rose up, the caliph asked the blind man his name, who\nanswered, it was Baba Abdoollah.\n\n\"Baba Abdoollah,\" replied the caliph, \"your manner of asking alms\nseemed so strange to me yesterday, that if it had not been for\nsome private considerations I should not have complied with your\nrequest, but should have prevented you from giving any more\noffence to the public. I ordered you to come hither, to know from\nyourself what could have induced you to make the indiscreet oath\nyou told me of, that I may judge whether you have done well, and\nif I ought to suffer you to continue a practice that appears to\nme to set so ill an example. Tell me freely how so extravagant a\nthought came into your head, and do not disguise any thing from\nme, for I will absolutely know the truth.\"\n\nBaba Abdoollah, intimidated by this reprimand, cast himself a\nsecond time at the foot of the caliph's throne, with his face to\nthe ground, and when he rose up, said, \"Commander of the\nfaithful, I most humbly ask your majesty's pardon for my\npresumption, in daring to have required, and almost forced you to\ndo a thing which indeed appears so contrary to reason. I\nacknowledge my offence, but as I did not then know your majesty,\nI implore your clemency, and hope you will consider my ignorance.\n\n\"As to the extravagance of my action, I own it, and own also that\nit must seem strange to mankind; but in the eye of God it is a\nslight penance I have enjoined myself for an enormous crime of\nwhich I have been guilty, and for which, if all the people in the\nworld were each to give me a box on the ear, it would not be a\nsufficient atonement. Your majesty will judge of this yourself,\nwhen, in telling my story, in obedience to your commands I shall\ninform you what that heinous crime was.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Baba Abdoollah.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, I was born at Bagdad, had a moderate\nfortune left me by my father and mother, who died within a few\ndays of each other. Though I was then but young, I did not\nsquander away my fortune as most young men do, in idle expenses\nand debauchery; on the contrary, I neglected no opportunity to\nincrease it by my industry. At last I became rich enough to\npurchase fourscore camels, which I let out to merchants for\ncaravans, who paid me well for every journey I went with them\nthroughout the extent of your majesty's dominions.\n\nIn the midst of this prosperity, and with an ardent desire of\ngrowing much richer, as I was returning one day with my camels\nunloaded from Bussorah, whither I had carried some bales that\nwere to be embarked for the Indies, I met with good pasturage, at\nsome distance from any habitation; made a halt, and let my beasts\ngraze for some time. While I was seated, a dervish, who was\nwalking to Bussorah, came and sat down by me to rest himself: I\nasked him whence he came, and where he was going; he put the same\nquestions to me: and when we had satisfied each other's\ncuriosity, we produced our provisions and ate together.\n\nDuring our repast, after we had talked on many indifferent\nsubjects, the dervish told me that he knew of a spot a small\ndistance from thence, where there were such immense riches, that\nif all my fourscore camels were loaded with the gold and jewels\nthat might be taken from it, they would not be missed.\n\nThis intelligence surprised and charmed me; and I was so\noverjoyed, that I could scarcely contain myself. I could not\nbelieve that the dervish was capable of telling me a falsehood;\ntherefore I fell upon his neck, and said, \"Good dervish, I know\nyou value not the riches of this world, therefore of what service\ncan the knowledge of this treasure be to you? You are alone, and\ncannot carry much of it away; shew me where it is, I will load\nall my camels, and as an acknowledgment of the favour done me,\nwill present you with one of them.\"\n\nIndeed I offered very little, but after he had communicated the\nsecret to me, my desire of riches was become so violent, that I\nthought it a great deal, and looked upon the seventy-nine camel\nloads which I reserved for myself as nothing in comparison of\nwhat I allowed him.\n\nThe dervish, though he saw my avarice, was not however angry at\nthe unreasonable return I proposed to make him, but replied\nwithout the least concern, \"You are sensible, brother, that what\nyou offer me is not proportionable to the valuable favour you ask\nof me. I might have chosen whether I would communicate my secret\nto you or not, and have kept the treasure to myself: but what I\nhave told you is sufficient to shew my good intentions; it is in\nmy power to oblige you, and make both our fortunes. I have,\nhowever, another proposition more just and equitable to make to\nyou; it lies in your own breast whether or no you will agree to\nit.\n\n\"You say,\" continued the dervish, \"that you have fourscore\ncamels: I am ready to conduct you to the place where the treasure\nlies, and we will load them with as much jewels and gold as they\ncan carry, on condition that when they are so loaded you will let\nme have one half, and you be contented with the other; after\nwhich we will separate, and take our camels where we may think\nfit. You see there is nothing but what is strictly equitable in\nthis division; for if you give me forty camels, you will procure\nby my means wherewithal to purchase thousands.\"\n\nI could not but agree there was a great deal of justice in what\nthe dervish said: but without considering what riches I should\ngain in accepting of the condition he proposed, I could not\nwithout reluctance think of parting with my forty camels,\nespecially when I reflected that the dervish would then be as\nrich as myself. Avarice made me unmindful that I was beforehand\nmaking an ungrateful return for a favour, purely gratuitous. But\nthere was no time to hesitate; I must either accept of the\nproposal, or resolve to repent all my lifetime of losing, by my\nown fault, an opportunity of obtaining an immense fortune. That\ninstant I collected all my camels, and after we had travelled\nsome time, we came into a valley, the pass into which was so\nnarrow, that two camels could not go a-breast. The two mountains\nwhich bounded this valley formed nearly a circle, but were so\nhigh, craggy, and steep, that there was no fear of our being seen\nby any body.\n\nWhen we came between these two mountains, the dervish said to me,\n\"Stop your camels, make them kneel that we may load them the\neasier, and I will proceed to discover the treasure.\"\n\nI did as the dervish directed; and going to him soon after, found\nhim with a match in one hand, gathering sticks to light a fire;\nwhich he had no sooner done, than he cast some incense into it,\nand pronouncing certain words which I did not understand, there\npresently arose a thick cloud. He divided this cloud, when the\nrock, though of a prodigious perpendicular height, opened like\ntwo folding doors, and exposed to view a magnificent palace in\nthe hollow of the mountain, which I supposed to be rather the\nworkmanship of genii than of men; for man could hardly have\nattempted such a bold and surprising work.\n\nBut this, I must tell your majesty, was an afterthought which did\nnot occur to me at the moment; so eager was I for the treasures\nwhich displayed themselves to my view, that I did not even stop\nto admire the magnificent columns and arcades which I saw on all\nsides; and, without attention to the regularity with which the\ntreasures were ranged, like an eagle seizing her prey, I fell\nupon the first heap of golden coin that was near me. My sacks\nwere all large, and with my good will I would have filled them\nall; but I was obliged to proportion my burden to the strength of\nmy camels. The dervish did the same; but I perceived he paid more\nattention to the jewels, and when he told me the reason, I\nfollowed his example, so that we took away much more jewels than\ngold. When we had filled our sacks, and loaded our camels, we had\nnothing left to do but to shut up the treasure and go our way.\n\nBut before we parted, the dervish went again into the treasury,\nwhere there were a great many wrought vessels of gold of\ndifferent forms. I observed that he took out of one of these\nvessels a little box of a certain wood, which I knew not, and put\nit into his breast; but first shewed me that it contained only a\nkind of glutinous ointment.\n\nThe dervish used the same incantations to shut the treasury as he\nhad done to open it; and after he pronounced certain words, the\ndoors closed, and the rock seemed as solid and entire as before.\n\nWe now divided our camels. I put myself at the head of the forty\nwhich I had reserved for myself, and the dervish placed himself\nat the head of the rest which I had given him. We came out of the\nvalley by the way we had entered, and travelled together till we\ncame to the great road, where we were to part; the dervish to go\nto Bussorah, and I to Bagdad. To thank him for so great a\nkindness, I made use of the most expressive terms, testifying my\ngratitude for the preference he had given me before all other men\nin letting me have a share of such riches. We embraced each other\nwith great joy, and taking our leave, pursued our different\nroutes.\n\nI had not gone far, following my camels, which paced quietly on\nin the track I had put them into, before the demon of ingratitude\nand envy took possession of my heart, and I deplored the loss of\nmy other forty, but much more the riches wherewith they were\nloaded. \"The dervish,\" said I to myself, \"has no occasion for all\nthis wealth, since he is master of the treasure, and may have as\nmuch as he pleases;\" so I gave myself up to the blackest\ningratitude, and determined immediately to take the camels with\ntheir loading from him.\n\nTo execute this design, I first stopped my own camels, then ran\nafter the dervish, and called to him as loud as I could, giving\nhim to understand that I had something material to say to him,\nand made a sign to him to stop, which he accordingly did.\n\nWhen I came up to him, I said, \"Brother, I had no sooner parted\nfrom you, but a thought came into my head, which neither of us\nhad reflected on before. You are a recluse dervish, used to live\nin tranquillity, disengaged from all the cares of the world, and\nintent only upon serving God. You know not, perhaps, what trouble\nyou have taken upon yourself, to take care of so many camels. If\nyou would take my advice, you would keep but thirty; you will\nfind them sufficiently troublesome to manage. Take my word; I\nhave had experience.\"\n\n\"I believe you are right,\" replied the dervish, who found he was\nnot able to contend with me;\" I own I never thought of this. I\nbegin already to be uneasy at what you have stated. Choose which\nten you please, and take them, and go on in God's keeping.\"\n\nI set ten apart, and after I had driven them off, I put them in\nthe road to follow my others. I could not have imagined that the\ndervish would be so easily persuaded to part with his camels,\nwhich increased my covetousness, and made me flatter myself, that\nit would be no hard matter to get ten more: wherefore, instead of\nthanking him for his present, I said to him again; \"Brother, the\ninterest I take in your repose is so great, that I cannot resolve\nto part from you without desiring you to consider once more how\ndifficult a thing it is to govern thirty loaded camels,\nespecially for you who are not used to such work: you will find\nit much better to return me as many more back as you have done\nalready. What I tell you is not for my own sake and interest, but\nto do you the greater kindness. Ease yourself then of the camels,\nand leave them to me, who can manage a hundred as well as one.\"\n\nMy discourse had the desired effect upon the dervish, who gave\nme, without any hesitation, the other ten camels; so that he had\nbut twenty left and I was master of sixty, and might boast of\ngreater riches than any sovereign princes. Any one would have\nthought I should now have been content; but as a person afflicted\nwith a dropsy, the more he drinks the more thirsty he is, so I\nbecame more greedy and desirous of the other twenty camels.\n\nI redoubled my solicitations and importunities, to make the\ndervish condescend to grant me ten of the twenty, which he did\nwith a good grace: and as to the other ten he had left, I\nembraced him, kissed his feet, and caressed him, conjuring him\nnot to refuse me, but to complete the obligation I should ever\nhave to him, so that at length he crowned my joy, by giving me\nthem also. \"Make a good use of them, brother,\" said the dervish,\n\"and remember that God can take away riches as well as give them,\nif we do not assist the poor, whom he suffers to be in want, on\npurpose that the rich may merit by their charity a recompense in\nthe other world.\"\n\nMy infatuation was so great that I could not profit by such\nwholesome advice. I was not content, though I had my forty camels\nagain, and knew they were loaded with an inestimable treasure.\nBut a thought came into my head, that the little box of ointment\nwhich the dervish shewed me had something in it more precious\nthan all the riches which I was obliged to him for: the place\nfrom whence the dervish took it, said I to myself, and his care\nto secure it, makes me believe there is something mysterious in\nit. This determined me to obtain it. I had just embraced him and\nbade him adieu; but as I turned about from him, I said, \"What\nwill you do with that little box of ointment? It seems such a\ntrifle, it is not worth your carrying away. I entreat you to make\nme a present of it; for what occasion has a dervish, as you are,\nwho has renounced the vanities of the world, for perfumes, or\nscented ointments?\"\n\nWould to heaven he had refused me that box; but if he had, I was\nstronger than he, and resolved to have taken it from him by\nforce; that for my complete satisfaction it might not be said he\nhad carried away the smallest part of the treasure.\n\nThe dervish, far from denying me, readily pulled it out of his\nbosom, and presenting it to me with the best grace in the world,\nsaid, \"Here, take it, brother, and be content; if I could do more\nfor you, you needed but to have asked me; I should have been\nready to satisfy you.\"\n\nWhen I had the box in my hand, I opened it, and looking at the\nointment, said to him, \"Since you are so good, I am sure you will\nnot refuse me the favour to tell me the particular use of this\nointment.\"\n\n\"The use is very surprising and wonderful,\" replied the dervish:\n\"if you apply a little of it round the left eye, and upon the\nlid, you will see at once all the treasures contained in the\nbosom of the earth; but if you apply it to the right eye, it will\nmake you blind.\"\n\n\"I would make the experiment myself. Take the box,\" said I to the\ndervish, \"and apply some to my left eye. You understand how to do\nit better than I, and I long to experience what seems so\nincredible.\" Accordingly I shut my left eye, and the dervish took\nthe trouble to apply the unguent; I opened my eye, and was\nconvinced he had told me truth. I saw immense treasures, and such\nprodigious riches, so diversified, that it is impossible for me\nto give an account of them; but as I was obliged to keep my right\neye shut with my hand, and that tired me, I desired the dervish\nto apply some of the pomatum to that eye.\n\n\"I am ready to do it,\" said the dervish; \"but you must remember\nwhat I told you, that if you put any of it upon your right eye,\nyou would immediately be blind; such is the virtue of the\nointment.\"\n\nFar from being persuaded of the truth of what the dervish said, I\nimagined, on the contrary, that there was some new mystery, which\nhe meant to hide from me. \"Brother,\" replied I, smiling, \"I see\nplainly you wish to mislead me; it is not natural that this\nointment should have two such contrary effects.\"\n\n\"The matter is as I tell you,\" replied the dervish, taking the\nname of God to bear witness; \"you ought to believe me, for I\ncannot disguise the truth.\"\n\nI would not believe the dervish, who spoke like an honest man. My\ninsurmountable desire of seeing at my will all the treasures in\nthe world and perhaps of enjoying those treasures to the extent I\ncoveted, had such an effect upon me, that I could not hearken to\nhis remonstrances, nor be persuaded of what was however but too\ntrue, as to my lasting misfortune I soon experienced.\n\nI persuaded myself that if the ointment, by being applied to the\nleft eye, had the virtue of shewing me all the treasures of the\nearth, by being applied to the right, it might have the power of\nputting them in my disposal. Possessed with this thought, I\nobstinately pressed the dervish to apply the ointment to my right\neye; but he as positively refused. \"Brother,\" said he, \"after l\nhave done you so much service, I cannot resolve to do you so\ngreat an injury; consider with yourself what a misfortune it is\nto be deprived of one's eye-sight: do not reduce me to the hard\nnecessity of obliging you in a thing which you will repent of all\nyour life.\"\n\nI persisted in my obstinacy, and said to him in strong terms,\n\"Brother, I earnestly desire you to lay aside all your\ndifficulties. You have granted me most generously all that I have\nasked of you hitherto, and would you have me go away dissatisfied\nwith you at last about a thing of so little consequence? For\nGod's sake grant me this last favour; whatever happens I will not\nlay the blame on you, but take it upon myself alone.\"\n\nThe dervish made all the resistance possible, but seeing that I\nwas able to force him to do it, he said, \"Since you will\nabsolutely have it so, I will satisfy you;\" and thereupon he took\na little of the fatal ointment, and applied it to my right eye,\nwhich I kept shut; but alas! when I came to open it, I could\ndistinguish nothing with either eye but thick darkness, and\nbecame blind as you see me now.\n\n\"Ah! dervish,\" I exclaimed in agony, \"what you forewarned me of\nhas proved but too true. Fatal curiosity,\" added I, \"insatiable\ndesire of riches, into what an abyss of miseries have they cast\nme! I am now sensible what a misfortune I have brought upon\nmyself; but you, dear brother,\" cried I, addressing myself to the\ndervish, \"who are so charitable and good, among the many\nwonderful secrets you are acquainted with, have you not one to\nrestore to me my sight again?\"\n\n\"Miserable wretch!\" answered the dervish, \"if you would have been\nadvised by me, you would have avoided this misfortune, but you\nhave your deserts; the blindness of your mind was the cause of\nthe loss of your eyes. It is true I have secrets, some of which,\nduring the short time we have been together, you have by my\nliberality witnessed; but I have none to restore to you your\nsight. Pray to God, therefore, if you believe there is one; it is\nhe alone that can restore it to you. He gave you riches, of which\nyou were unworthy, on that account takes them from you again, and\nwill by my hands give them to men not so ungrateful as yourself.\"\n\nThe dervish said no more, and I had nothing to reply. He left me\nto myself overwhelmed with confusion, and plunged in\ninexpressible grief. After he had collected my camels, he drove\nthem away, and pursued the road to Bussorah.\n\nI cried out loudly as he was departing, and entreated him not to\nleave me in that miserable condition, but to conduct me at least\nto the first caravanserai; but he was deaf to my prayers and\nentreaties. Thus deprived of sight and all I had in the world, I\nshould have died with affliction and hunger, if the next day a\ncaravan returning from Bussorah had not received me charitably,\nand brought me back to Bagdad.\n\nAfter this manner was I reduced without remedy from a condition\nworthy the envy of princes for riches and magnificence, though\nnot for power, to beggary without resource. I had no other way to\nsubsist but by asking charity, which I have done till now. But to\nexpiate my offence against God, I enjoined myself, by way of\npenance, a box on the ear from every charitable person who should\ncommiserate my condition.\n\n\"This, commander of the faithful, is the motive which seemed so\nstrange to your majesty yesterday, and for which I ought to incur\nyour indignation. I ask your pardon once more as your slave, and\nsubmit to receive the chastisement I deserve. And if you\nvouchsafe to pronounce any thing beyond the penance I have\nimposed upon myself, I am ready to undergo it, since I am\npersuaded you must think it too slight and much too little for my\ncrime.\"\n\nThe blind man having concluded his story, the caliph said, \"Baba\nAbdoollah, your sin has been great; but God be praised, you feel\nthe enormity of your guilt, and your penance proves your\nrepentance. You must continue it, not ceasing to ask of God\npardon in every prayer your religion obliges you to say daily:\nbut that you may not be prevented from your devotions by the care\nof getting your living, I will settle a charity on you during\nyour life, of four silver dirhems a day, which my grand vizier\nshall give you daily with the penance, therefore do not go away,\nbut wait till he has executed my orders.\"\n\nAt these words, Baba Abdoollah prostrated himself before the\ncaliph's throne, returned him thanks, and wished him all\nhappiness and prosperity.\n\nThe caliph, very well satisfied with the story of Baba Abdoollah\nand the dervish, addressed himself to the young man who used his\nmare so ill, and asked him his name; to which he replied, it was\nSyed Naomaun.\n\n\"Syed Naomaun,\" resumed the caliph, \"I have seen horses exercised\nall my life, and have often exercised them myself, but never in\nso barbarous a manner as you yesterday treated your mare in the\nfull square, to the great offence of all the spectators, who\nmurmured loudly at your conduct. I myself was not less\ndispleased, and had nearly, contrary to my intention, discovered\nwho I was, to have punished your cruelty. By your air and\nbehaviour you do not seem to be a barbarous or cruel man; and\ntherefore I would fain believe that you had reason for what you\ndid, since I am informed that this was not the first time, but\nthat you practise the same treatment every day. I would know what\nis the cause, and sent for you for that purpose, that you should\ntell me the truth, and disguise nothing from me.\"\n\nSyed Naomaun understood what the caliph demanded of him. The\nrelation was painful to him. He changed colour several times, and\ncould not help shewing how greatly he was embarrassed. However,\nhe must resolve to tell his story; but before he spoke, he\nprostrated himself before the caliph's throne, and after he rose\nup, endeavoured to speak to satisfy the caliph, but was so\nconfounded, not so much at the presence of the caliph, as by the\nnature of his relation, that he was speechless.\n\nThe caliph, notwithstanding his natural impatience to be obeyed,\nshewed not the least anger at Syed Naomaun's silence: he saw\nplainly, that he either had not assurance to speak before him, or\nwas intimidated by the tone of his voice; or, in short, that\nthere was something to be concealed in his story.\n\n\"Syed Naomaun,\" said the caliph, to encourage him, \"recollect\nyourself, but tell your story as if you were speaking not to me,\nbut to your most familiar friend. If there is any thing in your\nrelation which troubles you, and you think I may be offended at\nit, I pardon you beforehand: therefore be not uneasy, but speak\nboldly and freely, and disguise nothing.\"\n\nSyed Naomaun, encouraged by these words, said, \"Commander of the\nfaithful, whatever apprehensions a man may be under at your\nmajesty's presence, I am sensible those respectful sensations\nwould not deprive me of the use of my speech, so as to fail in my\nobedience, in giving you satisfaction in any other matter but\nthis you now ask of me. I dare not say I am the most perfect of\nmen; yet I am not wicked enough to have committed, or to have had\nan intention of committing any thing against the laws to fear\ntheir severity; and yet I cannot say I am exempt from sin through\nignorance. In this case I do not say that I depend upon your\nmajesty's pardon, but will submit myself to your justice, and\nreceive the punishment I deserve. I own, that the manner in which\nI have for some time treated my mare, and which your majesty has\nwitnessed, is strange, and sets an ill example: but I hope you\nwill think the motive well grounded, and that I am more worthy of\ncompassion than chastisement: but not to keep your majesty any\nlonger in suspense by a long preamble, I will tell you my story.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Syed Naomaun.\n\n\n\nI shall not trouble your majesty with my birth, which is not\nillustrious enough to merit your attention. For my situation, my\nparents, by their good economy, left me enough to live on like an\nhonest man, free from ambition, or being burdensome to any one.\n\nWith these advantages, the only blessing I wanted to render my\nhappiness complete was an amiable wife, who might share them with\nme; but that was a blessing it did not please God to grant me: on\nthe contrary, it was my misfortune to have one, who, the very\nnext day after our wedding, began to exercise my patience in a\nmanner not to be conceived by any one who has not had the same\ntrial.\n\nAs it is the custom for us to marry without seeing or knowing\nwhom we are to espouse, your majesty is sensible that a husband\nhas no reason to complain, when he finds that the wife who has\nbeen chosen for him is not horribly ugly and deformed, and that\nher carriage, wit, and behaviour make amends for any slight\nbodily imperfections.\n\nThe first time I saw my wife with her face uncovered, after she\nwas brought home with the usual ceremonies to my house, I\nrejoiced to find that I had not been imposed upon in the\ndescription of her person, which pleased me, and she was\nperfectly agreeable to my inclination.\n\nThe next day after our wedding, when our dinner was served up,\nwhich consisted of several dishes, I went into the room where the\ncloth was ]aid, and not finding my wife there, ordered her to be\ncalled. After making me wait a long time, she came. I dissembled\nmy impatience, we sat down, and I began with the rice, which I\ntook up as usual.\n\nOn the other hand, my wife, instead of using her hand as\neverybody does, pulled a little case out of her pocket, and took\nout of it a kind of bodkin, with which she picked up the rice,\nand put it into her mouth, grain by grain.\n\nSurprised at this manner of eating, I said to her, \"Ameeneh,\"\n(which was her name,) \"are you used to eat rice so in your\nfamily, or do you do it because you are a little eater, or would\nyou count the grains, that you may not eat more at one time than\nanother? If you do it out of frugality, or to teach me not to be\nextravagant, you have no reason to fear, as I can assure you we\nshall not ruin ourselves that way. We have, God be thanked!\nenough to live at our ease, without depriving ourselves of\nnecessaries. Do not restrain yourself, my dear Ameeneh, but eat\nas you see me eat.\" The kind manner in which I made these\nremonstrances might have produced some obliging answer; but she,\nwithout saying a word, continued to eat as she had begun. At\nlast, to make me the more uneasy, she ate a grain of rice at\nintervals only; and instead of eating any of the other meats with\nme, she only now and then put some crumbs of bread into her\nmouth, but not so much as a sparrow would have pecked.\n\nI was much provoked at her obstinacy; but yet, to indulge and\nexcuse her, I imagined that she had not been used to eat with\nmen, before whom she might perhaps have been taught to restrain\nherself; but at the same time thought she carried it too far out\nof pure simplicity. I fancied again that she might have\nbreakfasted late, or that she might have a wish to eat alone, and\nmore at liberty. These considerations prevented me from saying\nmore to her then, to ruffle her temper, by shewing any sign of\ndissatisfaction. After dinner I left her, but not with an air\nthat shewed any displeasure.\n\nAt supper, and the next day, and every time we ate together, she\nbehaved herself in the same manner. I knew it was impossible for\na woman to live on so little food as she took, and that there\nmust be some mystery in her conduct, which I did not understand.\nThis made me resolve to dissemble; I appeared to take no notice\nof her actions, in hopes that time would bring her to live with\nme as I desired she should. But my hopes were in vain, and it was\nnot long before I was convinced they were so.\n\nOne night, when Ameeneh thought me fast asleep, she got out of\nbed softly, dressed herself with great precaution, not to make a\nnoise for fear of awaking me. I could not comprehend her design,\nbut curiosity made me feign a sound sleep. As soon as she had\ndressed herself, she went softly out of the room.\n\nWhen she was gone, I arose, threw my cloak over my shoulders, and\nhad time enough to see from a window that looked into my court-\nyard, that she opened the street-door and went out.\n\nI immediately ran down to the door, which she had left half open,\nand followed her by moonlight, till I saw her enter a burying-\nground just by our house. I got to the end of the wall, taking\ncare not to be seen, and looking over, saw Ameeneh with a ghoul.\n\nYour majesty knows that the ghouls of both sexes are wandering\ndemons, which generally infest old buildings; from whence they\nrush out, by surprise, on people that pass by, kill them, and eat\ntheir flesh; and for want of such prey, will sometimes go in the\nnight into burying-grounds, and feed on dead bodies which they\ndig up.\n\nI was struck with astonishment and horror to see my wife with\nthis ghoul. They dug up a dead body which had been buried but\nthat day, and the ghoul cut off pieces of the flesh, which they\nate together by the grave-side, conversing during their shocking\nand inhuman repast. But I was too far off to hear their\ndiscourse, which must have been as strange as their meal, the\nremembrance of which still makes me shudder.\n\nWhen they had finished this horrible feast, they threw the\nremains of the dead body into the grave again, and filled it up\nwith the earth which they had dug out. I left them at their work,\nmade haste home, and leaving the door half open as I had found\nit, went into my chamber, and to bed again, where I pretended to\nbe fast asleep.\n\nSoon afterwards Ameeneh returned without the least noise,\nundressed herself, and came to bed, rejoicing, as I imagined,\nthat she had succeeded so well without being discovered.\n\nMy mind was so full of the idea of such an abominable action as I\nhad witnessed, that I felt great reluctance to lie by a person\nwho could have had any share in the guilt of it, and was a long\ntime before I could fall asleep. However, I got a short nap; but\nwaked at the first call to public prayers at day-break, got up,\ndressed myself, and went to the mosque.\n\nAfter prayers I went out of the town, spent the morning in\nwalking in the gardens, and thinking what I should do to oblige\nmy wife to change her mode of living. I rejected all the violent\nmeasures that suggested themselves to my thoughts, and resolved\nto use gentle means to cure her unhappy and depraved inclination.\nIn this state of reverie I insensibly reached home by dinner-\ntime.\n\nAs soon as Ameeneh saw me enter the house, she ordered dinner to\nbe served up; and as I observed she continued to eat her rice in\nthe same manner, by single grains, I said to her, with all the\nmildness possible, \"You know, Ameeneh, what reason I had to be\nsurprised, when the day after our marriage I saw you eat rice in\nso small a quantity, and in a manner which would have offended\nany other husband but myself: you know also, I contented myself\nwith telling you that I was uneasy at it, and desired you to eat\nof the other meats, which I had ordered to be dressed several\nways to endeavour to suit your taste, and I am sure my table did\nnot want for variety: but all my remonstrances have had no\neffect, and you persist in your sullen abstemiousness. I have\nsaid nothing, because I would not constrain you, and should be\nsorry that any thing I now say should make you uneasy; but tell\nme, Ameeneh, I conjure you, are not the meats served up at my\ntable better than the flesh of a human corpse?\"\n\nI had no sooner pronounced these words than Ameeneh, who\nperceived that I had discovered her last night's horrid\nvoraciousness with the ghoul, flew into a rage beyond\nimagination. Her face became as red as scarlet, her eyes ready to\nstart out of her head, and she foamed with passion.\n\nThe terrible state in which she appeared alarmed me so much, that\nI stood motionless, and was not able to defend myself against the\nhorrible wickedness she meditated against me, and which will\nsurprise your majesty. In the violence of her passion, she dipped\nher hand into a basin of water, which stood by her, and muttering\nbetween her teeth some words, which I could not hear, she threw\nsome water in my face, and exclaimed, in a furious tone, \"Wretch,\nreceive the punishment of thy prying curiosity, and become a\ndog!\"\n\nAmeeneh, whom I did not before know to be a sorceress, had no\nsooner pronounced these diabolical words, than I was immediately\ntransformed into a dog. My amazement and surprise at so sudden\nand unexpected a metamorphosis prevented my thinking at first of\nproviding for my safety. Availing herself of this suspense, she\ntook up a great stick, with which she laid on me such heavy\nblows, that I wonder they did not kill me. I thought to have\nescaped her rage, by running into the yard; but she pursued me\nwith the same fury, and notwithstanding all my activity I could\nnot avoid her blows. At last, when she was tired of running after\nand beating me, and enraged that she had not killed me, as she\ndesired, she thought of another method to effect her purpose: she\nhalf opened the street-door, that she might endeavour to squeeze\nme to death, as I ran out to preserve my life. Dog as I was, I\ninstantly perceived her pernicious design; and as present danger\ninspires a presence of mind, to elude her vigilance I watched her\nface and motions so well, that I took my opportunity, and passed\nthrough quick enough to save myself and escape her malice, though\nshe pinched the end of my tail.\n\nThe pain I felt made me cry out and howl as I ran along the\nstreets, which collected all the dogs about me, and I got bit by\nseveral of them; but to avoid their pursuit, I ran into the shop\nof a man who sold boiled sheep's heads, tongues, and feet, where\nI saved myself.\n\nThe man at first took my part with much compassion, by driving\naway the dogs that followed me, and would have run into his\nhouse. My first care was to creep into a corner to hide myself;\nbut I found not the sanctuary and protection I hoped for. My host\nwas one of those extravagantly superstitious persons who think\ndogs unclean creatures, and if by chance one happens to touch\nthem in the streets, cannot use soap and water enough to wash\ntheir garments clean. After the dogs who chased me were all\ndispersed and gone, he did all he could to drive me out of his\nhouse, but I was concealed out of his reach, and spent that night\nin his shop in spite of him; and indeed I had need of rest to\nrecover from Ameeneh's ill-treatment.\n\nNot to weary your majesty with trifling circumstances, I shall\nnot particularize the melancholy reflections I made on my\nmetamorphosis; but only tell you, that my host having gone out\nthe next morning to lay in a stock of sheep's heads, tongues, and\ntrotters, when he returned, he opened his shop, and while he was\nlaying out his goods, I crept from my corner, and got among some\nother dogs of the neighbourhood, who had followed my host by the\nscent of his meat, and surrounded the shop, in expectation of\nhaving some offal thrown to them. I joined them, and put myself\namong them in a begging posture. My host observing me, and\nconsidering that I had eaten nothing while I lay in the shop,\ndistinguished me from the rest, by throwing me larger pieces of\nmeat, and oftener than the other dogs. After he had given me as\nmuch as he thought fit, I looked at him earnestly, and wagged my\ntail, to shew him I begged he would repeat his favours. But he\nwas inflexible, and opposed my entrance with a stick in his hand,\nand with so stern a look, that I felt myself obliged to seek a\nnew habitation.\n\nI stopped at the shop of a baker in the neighbourhood, who was of\na lively gay temper, quite the reverse of the offal butcher. He\nwas then at breakfast, and though I made no sign that I wanted\nany thing, threw me a piece of bread. Instead of catching it up\ngreedily, as dogs usually do, I looked at him, moving my head and\nwagging my tail, to shew my gratitude; at which he was pleased,\nand smiled. Though I was not hungry, I ate the piece of bread to\nplease him, and I ate slowly to shew him that it was out of\nrespect to him. He observed this, and permitted me to continue\nnear the shop. I sat down and turned myself to the street, to\nshew him I then only wanted his protection; which he not only\ngranted, but by his caresses encouraged me to come into the\nhouse. This I did in a way that shewed it was with his leave. He\nwas pleased, and pointed me out a place where to lie, of which I\ntook possession, and kept while I lived with him. I was always\nwell treated; and whenever he breakfasted, dined, or supped, I\nhad my share of provisions; and, in return, I loved him, and was\nfaithful, as gratitude required of me. I always had my eyes upon\nhim, and he scarcely stirred out of doors, or went into the city\non business, but I was at his heels. I was the more exact,\nbecause I perceived my attention pleased him; for whenever he\nwent out, without giving me time to see him, he would call\nChance, which was the name he gave me.\n\nAt this name I used to spring from my place, jump, caper, run\nbefore the door, and never cease fawning on him, till he went\nout; and then I always either followed him, or ran before him,\ncontinually looking at him to shew my joy.\n\nI had lived some time with this baker, when a woman came one day\ninto the shop to buy some bread, who gave my master a piece of\nbad money among some good, which he returned, and requested her\nto exchange.\n\nThe woman refused to take it again, and affirmed it to be good.\nThe baker maintained the contrary, and in the dispute told the\nwoman, he was sure that the piece of money was so visibly bad,\nthat his dog could distinguish it; upon which he called me by\nname. I immediately jumped on the counter, and the baker throwing\nthe money down before me, said, \"See, and tell me which of these\npieces is bad?\" I looked over all the pieces of money, and then\nset my paw upon that which was bad, separated it from the rest,\nlooking in my master's face, to shew it him.\n\nThe baker, who had only called me to banter the woman, was much\nsurprised to see me so immediately pitch upon the bad money. The\nwoman thus convicted had nothing to say for herself, but was\nobliged to give another piece instead of the bad one. As soon as\nshe was gone, my master called in some neighbours, and enlarged\nvery much on my capacity, telling them what had happened.\n\nThe neighbours desired to make the experiment, and of all the bad\nmoney they shewed me, mixed with good, there was not one which I\ndid not set my paw upon, and separate from the rest.\n\nThe woman also failed not to tell everybody she met what had\nhappened; so that the fame of my skill in distinguishing good\nmoney from bad was not only spread throughout the neighbourhood,\nbut over all that part of the town, and insensibly through the\nwhole city.\n\nI had business enough every day; for I was obliged to shew my\nskill to all customers who came to buy bread of my master. In\nshort, my reputation procured my master more business than he\ncould manage, and brought him customers from the most distant\nparts of the town; this run of business lasted so long, that he\nowned to his friends and neighbours, that I was a treasure to\nhim.\n\nMy little knowledge made many people envy my master's good\nfortune, and lay snares to steal me away, which obliged him\nalways to keep me in his sight. One day a woman came like the\nrest out of curiosity to buy some bread, and seeing me sit upon\nthe counter, threw down before me six pieces of money, among\nwhich was one that was bad. I separated it presently from the\nothers, and setting my paw upon it, looked in the woman's face,\nas much as to say, \"Is it not so?\" The woman looking at me\nreplied, \"Yes, you are in the right, it is bad:\" and staying some\ntime in the shop, to look at and admire me, at last paid my\nmaster for his bread, but when she went out of the shop, made a\nsign, unknown to him, for me to follow her.\n\nI was always attentive to any means likely to deliver me out of\nso strange a metamorphosis, and had observed that the woman\nexamined me with an extraordinary attention. I imagined that she\nmight know something of my misfortune, and the melancholy\ncondition I was reduced to: however, I let her go, and contented\nmyself with looking at her. After walking two or three steps, she\nturned about, and seeing that I only looked at her, without\nstirring from my place, made me another sign to follow her.\n\nWithout deliberating any longer, and observing that my master was\nbusy cleaning his oven, and did not mind me, I jumped off the\ncounter, and followed the woman, who seemed overjoyed.\n\nAfter we had gone some way, she stopped at a house, opened the\ndoor, and called to me to come in, saying, \"You will not repent\nfollowing me.\" When I had entered, she shut the door, and\nconduded me to her chamber, where I saw a beautiful young lady\nworking embroidery. This lady, who was daughter to the charitable\nwoman who had brought me from the baker's, was a very skilful\nenchantress, as I found afterwards.\n\n\"Daughter,\" said the mother, \"I have brought you the much-talked-\nof baker's dog, that can tell good money from bad. You know I\ngave you my opinion respecting him when I first heard of him, and\ntold you, I fancied he was a man changed into a dog by some\nwicked magician. To-day I determined to go to that baker for some\nbread, and was myself a witness of the wonders performed by this\ndog, who has made such a noise in Bagdad. What say you, daughter,\nam I deceived in my conjecture?\" \"Mother, you are not,\" answered\nthe daughter, \"and I will disenchant him immediately.\"\n\nThe young lady arose from her sofa, put her hand into a basin of\nwater, and throwing some upon me, said, \"If thou wert born a dog,\nremain so, but if thou wert born a man, resume thy former shape,\nby the virtue of this water.\" At that instant the enchantment was\nbroken, and I became restored to my natural form.\n\nPenetrated with the greatness of this kindness, I threw myself at\nmy deliverer's feet; and after I had kissed the hem of her\ngarment, said, \"My dear deliverer, I am so sensible of your\nunparalleled humanity towards a stranger, as I am, that I beg of\nyou to tell me yourself what I can do to shew my gratitude; or\nrather dispose of me as a slave, to whom you have a just right,\nsince I am no more my own, but entirely yours: and that you may\nknow who I am, I will tell you my story in as few words as\npossible.\"\n\nAfter I had informed her who I was, I gave her an account of my\nmarriage with Ameeneh, of the complaisance I had shewn her, my\npatience in bearing with her humour, her extraordinary behaviour,\nand the savage inhumanity with which she had treated me out of\nher inconceivable wickedness, and finished my story with my\ntransformation, and thanking her mother for the inexpressible\nhappiness she had procured me.\n\n\"Syed Naomaun,\" said the daughter to me, \"let us not talk of the\nobligation you say you owe me; it is enough for me that I have\ndone any service to so honest a man. But let us talk of Ameeneh\nyour wife. I was acquainted with her before your marriage; and as\nI know her to be a sorceress, she also is sensible that I have\nsome of the same kind of knowledge as herself, since we both\nlearnt it of the same mistress. We often meet at the baths, but\nas our tempers are different, I avoid all opportunities of\ncontracting an intimacy with her, which is no difficult matter,\nas she does the same by me. I am not at all surprised at her\nwickedness: but what I have already done for you is not\nsufficient; I must complete what I have begun. It is not enough\nto have broken the enchantment by which she has so long excluded\nyou from the society of men. You must punish her as she deserves,\nby going home again, and assuming the authority which belongs to\nyou. I will give you the proper means. Converse a little with my\nmother till I return to you.\"\n\nMy deliveress went into a closet, and while she was absent, I\nrepeated my obligations to the mother as well as the daughter.\nShe said to me, \"You see my daughter has as much skill in the\nmagic art as the wicked Ameeneh; but makes such use of it, that\nyou would be surprised to know the good she has done, and daily\ndoes, by exercising her science. This induces me to let her\npractise it; for I should not permit her, if I perceived she made\nan improper application of it in the smallest instance.\"\n\nThe mother then related some of the wonders she had seen her\nperform: by this time the daughter returned with a little bottle\nin her hand. \"Syed Naomaun,\" said she, \"my books which I have\nbeen consulting tell me that Ameeneh is now abroad, but will be\nat home presently. They also inform me that she pretended before\nyour servants to be very uneasy at your absence, and made them\nbelieve, that at dinner you recollected some business which\nobliged you to go out immediately; that as you went, you left the\ndoor open, and a dog running into the hall where she was at\ndinner, she had beaten him out with a great stick.\n\n\"Take this little bottle, go home immediately, and wait in your\nown chamber till Ameeneh comes in, which she will do shortly. As\nsoon as she returns, run down into the court, and meet her face\nto face. In her surprise at seeing you so unexpectedly, she will\nturn her back to run away; have the bottle ready, and throw some\nof the liquor it contains upon her, pronouncing at the same time\nthese words: \u0091Receive the chastisement of thy wickedness.' I will\ntell you no more; you will see the effect.\"\n\nAfter these instructions I took leave of my benefactress, and her\nmother, with all the testimonies of the most perfect gratitude,\nand a sincere protestation never to forget my obligation to them;\nand then went home.\n\nAll things happened as the beautiful and humane enchantress had\nforetold. Ameeneh was not long before she came home. As she\nentered the court, I met her with the bottle in my hand. Upon\nseeing me, she shrieked; and as she turned to run towards the\ndoor, I threw the liquor upon her, pronouncing the words which\nthe young lady had taught me, when she was instantly transformed\ninto the mare which your majesty saw me upon yesterday.\n\nAt that instant, owing to the surprise she was in, I easily\nseized her by the mane, and notwithstanding her resistance, led\nher into the stable, where I put a halter upon her head, and when\nI had tied her to the rack, reproaching her with her baseness, I\nchastised her with a whip till I was tired, and have punished her\nevery day since in the manner which your majesty has witnessed.\n\n\"I hope, commander of the faithful,\" concluded Syed Naomaun,\n\"your majesty will not disapprove of my conduct, but will rather\nthink I have shewn so wicked and pernicious a woman more\nindulgence than she deserved.\"\n\nWhen the caliph found that Syed Naomaun had ended his story, he\nsaid to him, \"Your adventure is very singular, and the wickedness\nof your wife inexcusable; therefore I do not condemn the\nchastisement you have hitherto given her; but I would have you\nconsider how great a punishment it is to be reduced to the\ncondition of beasts, and wish you would be content with the\nchastisement you have already inflicted. I would order you to go\nand address yourself to the young enchantress, to end the\nmetamorphosis she has inflicted, but that I know the obstinacy\nand incorrigible cruelty of magicians of both sexes, who abuse\ntheir art; which makes me apprehensive that a second effect of\nyour wife's revenge might be more fatal than the first.\"\n\nThe caliph, who was naturally mild and compassionate to all\ncriminals, after he had declared his mind to Syed Naomaun,\naddressed himself to the third person the grand vizier had\nsummoned to attend him. \"Khaujeh Hassan,\" said he, \"passing\nyesterday by your house, it seemed so magnificent that I felt a\ncuriosity to know to whom it belonged, and was told that you,\nwhose trade is so mean that a man can scarcely get his bread by\nit, have built this house after you had followed this trade some\nyears. I was likewise informed that you make a good use of the\nriches God has blessed you with, and your neighbours speak well\nof you.\n\n\"All this pleases me well,\" added the caliph, \"but I am persuaded\nthat the means by which Providence has been pleased to bestow\nthese gifts on you must have been very extraordinary. I am\ncurious to know the particulars from your own mouth, and sent for\nyou on purpose to have that satisfaction. Speak truly, that when\nI know your story, I may rejoice in your good fortune.\n\n\"But that you may not suspect my curiosity, and believe I have\nany other interest than what I tell you, I declare, that far from\nhaving any pretensions, I give you my word you shall enjoy freely\nall you possess.\"\n\nOn these assurances of the caliph, Khaujeh Hassan prostrated\nhimself before the throne, with his forehead down to the carpet,\nand when he rose up, said, \"Commander of the faithful, some\npersons might have been alarmed at having been summoned to appear\nbefore your majesty; but knowing that my conscience was clear,\nand that I had committed nothing against the laws or your\nmajesty, but, on the contrary, had always the most respectful\nsentiments and the profoundest veneration for your person, my\nonly fear was, that I should not be able to support the splendour\nof your presence. But nevertheless on the public report of your\nmajesty's receiving favourably, and hearing the meanest of your\nsubjects, I took courage, and never doubted but I should have\nconfidence enough to give you all the satisfaction you might\nrequire of me. Besides, your majesty has given me a proof of your\ngoodness, by granting me your protection before you know whether\nI deserve it. I hope, however, you will retain the favourable\nsentiments you have conceived of me, when, in obedience to your\ncommand, I shall have related my adventures.\"\n\nAfter this compliment to conciliate the caliph's good-will and\nattention, and after some moments' recollection, Khaujeh Hassan\nrelated his story in the following manner:\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Story of Khaujeh Hassan al Hubbaul.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, that your majesty may the better\nunderstand by what means I arrived at the happiness I now enjoy,\nI must acquaint you, there are two intimate friends, citizens of\nBagdad, who can testify the truth of what I shall relate, and to\nwhom, after God, the author of all good, I owe my prosperity.\n\nThese two friends are called, the one Saadi, the other Saad.\nSaadi, who is very rich, was always of opinion that no man could\nbe happy in this world without wealth, to live independent of\nevery one.\n\nSaad was of a different opinion; he agreed that riches were\nnecessary to comfort, but maintained that the happiness of a\nman's life consisted in virtue, without any farther eagerness\nafter worldly goods than what was requisite for decent\nsubsistence, and benevolent purposes.\n\nSaad himself is one of this number, and lives very happily and\ncontentedly in his station: but though Saadi is infinitely more\nopulent, their friendship is very sincere, and the richest sets\nno more value on himself than the other. They never had any\ndispute but on this point; in all other things their union of\nopinion has been very strict.\n\nOne day as they were talking upon this subject, as I have since\nbeen informed by them both, Saadi affirmed, that poverty\nproceeded from men's being born poor, or spending their fortunes\nin luxury and debauchery, or by some of those unforeseen\nfatalities which do not often occur. \"My opinion,\" said he, \"is,\nthat most people's poverty is owing to their wanting at first a\nsufficient sum of money to raise them above want, by employing\ntheir industry to improve it; for,\" continued he, \"if they once\nhad such a sum, and made a right use of it, they would not only\nlive well, but would in time infallibly grow rich.\"\n\nSaad could not agree in this sentiment: \"The way,\" said he,\n\"which you propose to make a poor man rich, is not so certain as\nyou imagine. Your plan is very hazardous, and I can bring many\ngood arguments against your opinion, but that they would carry us\ntoo far into dispute, I believe, with as much probability, that a\npoor man may become rich by other means as well as by money: and\nthere are people who have raised as large and surprising fortunes\nby mere chance, as others have done by money, with all their good\neconomy and management to increase it by the best conducted\ntrade.\"\n\n\"Saad,\" replied Saadi, \"I see we shall not come to any\ndetermination by my persisting to oppose my opinion against\nyours. I will make an experiment to convince you, by giving, for\nexample, a sum of money to some artisan, whose ancestors from\nfather to son have always been poor, lived only from day to day,\nand died as indigent as they were born. If I have not the success\nI expect, you shall try if you will have better by the means you\nshall employ.\"\n\nSome days after this dispute, the two friends happened to walk\nout together, and passing through the street where I was at work\nat my trade of rope-making, which I learnt of my father, who\nlearnt of his, and he of his ancestors; and by my dress and\nappearance, it was no hard matter for them to guess my poverty.\n\nSaad, remembering Saadi's engagement, said, \"If you have not\nforgotten what you said to me, there is a man,\" pointing to me,\n\"whom I can remember a long time working at his trade of rope-\nmaking, and in the same poverty: he is a worthy subject for your\nliberality, and a proper person to make your experiment upon.\" \"I\nso well remember the conversation,\" replied Saadi, \"that I have\never since carried a sufficient sum about me for the purpose, but\nonly waited for an opportunity of our being together, that you\nmight be witness of the fact. Let us go to him, and know if he is\nreally necessitous.\"\n\nThe two friends came to me, and I, seeing that they wished to\nspeak to me, left off work: they both accosted me with the common\nsalutation, and Saadi, wishing me peace, asked me my name.\n\nI returned their salutation, and answered Saadi's question,\nsaying to him, \"Sir, my name is Hassan; but by reason of my\ntrade, I am commonly known by the name of Hassan al Hubbaul.\"\n\n\"Hassan,\" replied Saadi, \"as there is no occupation but what a\nman may live by, I doubt not but yours produces enough for you to\nlive well upon; and I am amazed, that during the long time you\nhave worked at your trade, you have not saved enough to lay in a\ngood stock of hemp to extend your manufacture and employ more\nhands, by the profit of whose work you would soon increase your\nincome.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied I, \"you will be no longer amazed that I have not\nsaved money and taken the way you mention to become rich, when\nyou come to know that, let me work as hard as I may from morning\ntill night, I can hardly get enough to keep my family in bread\nand pulse. I have a wife and five children, not one of whom is\nold enough to be of the least assistance to me. I must feed and\nclothe them, and in our poor way of living, they still want many\nnecessaries, which they can ill do without And though hemp is not\nvery dear, I must have money to buy it. This is the first thing I\ndo with any money I receive for my work; otherwise I and my\nfamily must starve.\n\n\"Now judge, sir,\" added I, \"if it be possible that I should save\nany thing for myself and family: it is enough that we are content\nwith the little God sends us, and that we have not the knowledge\nor desire of more than we want, but can live as we have been\nalways bred up, and are not reduced to beg.\"\n\nWhen I had given Saadi this account, he said to me, \"Hassan, I am\nnot so much surprised as I was, for I comprehend what obliges you\nto be content in your station. But if I should make you a present\nof a purse of two hundred pieces of gold, would not you make a\ngood use of it? and do not you believe, that with such a sum you\ncould become soon as rich as the principal of your occupation?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied I, \"you seem to be so good a gentleman, that I am\npersuaded you would not banter me, but that the offer you make me\nis serious; and I dare say, without presuming too much upon\nmyself, that a considerably less sum would be sufficient to make\nme not only as rich as the first of our trade, but that in time I\nshould be richer than all of them in this city together, though\nBagdad is so large and populous.\"\n\nThe generous Saadi showed me immediately that in what he said he\nwas serious. He pulled a purse out of his bosom, and putting it\ninto my hands, said, \"Here, take this purse; you will find it\ncontains two hundred pieces of gold: I pray God bless you with\nthem, and give you grace to make the good use of them I desire;\nand believe me, my friend Saad, whom you see here, and I shall\nboth take great pleasure in finding they may contribute towards\nmaking you more happy than you now are.\"\n\nWhen I had got the purse, the first thing I did was to put it\ninto my bosom; but the transport of my joy was so great, and I\nwas so much penetrated with gratitude, that my speech failed me\nand I could give my benefactor no other tokens of my feelings\nthan by laying hold of the hem of his garment and kissing it; but\nhe drew it from me hastily, and he and his friend pursued their\nwalk.\n\nAs soon as they were gone, I returned to my work, and my first\nthought was, what I should do with my purse to keep it safe. I\nhad in my poor house neither box nor cupboard to lock it up in,\nnor any other place where I could be sure it would not be\ndiscovered if I concealed it.\n\nIn this perplexity, as I had been used, like many poor people of\nmy condition, to put the little money I had in the folds of my\nturban, I left my work, and went into the house, under pretence\nof wrapping my turban up anew. I took such precautions that\nneither my wife nor children saw what I was doing. But first I\nlaid aside ten pieces of gold for present necessaries, and\nwrapped the rest up in the folds of the linen which went about my\ncap.\n\nThe principal expense I was at that day was to lay in a good\nstock of hemp, and afterwards, as my family had eaten no flesh\nmeat a long time, I went to the shambles, and bought something\nfor supper.\n\nAs I was carrying home the meat I had bought, a famished vulture\nflew upon me, and would have taken it away, if I had not held it\nvery fast; but, alas! I had better have parted with it than lost\nmy money; the faster I held my meat, the more the bird struggled\nto get it, drawing me sometimes on one side, and sometimes on\nanother, but would not quit the prize; till unfortunately in my\nefforts my turban fell on the ground.\n\nThe vulture immediately let go his hold, but seizing my turban,\nflew away with it. I cried out so loud, that I alarmed all the\nmen, women, and children in the neighbourhood, who joined their\nshouts and cries to make the vulture quit his hold; for by such\nmeans these voracious birds are often frightened so as to quit\ntheir prey. But our cries did not avail; he carried off my\nturban, and we soon lost sight of him, and it would have been in\nvain for me to fatigue myself with running after him.\n\nI went home very melancholy at the loss of my money. I was\nobliged to buy a new turban, which diminished the small remainder\nof the ten pieces; for I had laid out several in hemp. The little\nthat was left was not sufficient to give me reason to indulge the\ngreat hopes I had conceived.\n\nBut what troubled me most, was the little satisfaction I should\nbe able to give my benefactor for his ineffectual generosity,\nwhen he should come to hear what a misfortune I had met with,\nwhich he would perhaps regard as incredible, and consequently an\nidle excuse.\n\nWhile the remainder of the ten pieces lasted, my little family\nand I lived better than usual; but I soon relapsed into the same\npoverty, and the same inability to extricate myself from\nwretchedness. However, I never murmured nor repined; \"God,\" said\nI, \"was pleased to give me riches when I least expelled them; he\nhas thought fit to take them from me again almost at the same\ntime, because it so pleased him, and they were at his disposal;\nyet I will praise his name for all the benefits I have received,\nas it was his good pleasure, and submit myself, as I have ever\ndone hitherto, to his will.\"\n\nThese were my sentiments, while my wife, from whom I could not\nkeep secret the loss I had sustained, was inconsolable. In my\ntrouble I had told my neighbours, that when I lost my turban I\nlost a hundred and ninety pieces of gold; but as they knew my\npoverty, and could not comprehend how I should have got so great\na sum by my work, they only laughed at me.\n\nAbout six months after this misfortune, which I have related to\nyour majesty, the two friends walking through that part of the\ntown where I lived, the neighbourhood brought me to Saad's\nrecollection. \"We are now,\" said he to Saadi, \"not far from the\nstreet where Hassan the ropemaker lives; let us call and see what\nuse he has made of the two hundred pieces of gold you gave him,\nand whether they have enabled him to take any steps towards\nbettering his fortune.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" replied Saadi; \"I have been thinking of him\nsome days, and it will be a great pleasure and satisfaction to me\nto have you with me, as a witness of the proof of my argument.\nYou will see undoubtedly a great alteration. I expect we shall\nhardly know him again.\"\n\nJust as Saadi said this, the two friends turned the corner of the\nstreet, and Saad, who perceived me first at a distance, said to\nhis friend, \"I believe you reckon without your host. I see\nHassan, but can discern no change in his person, for he is as\nshabbily dressed as when we saw him before; the only difference\nthat I can perceive is, that his turban looks something better.\nObserve him yourself, and see whether I am in the wrong.\"\n\nAs they drew nearer to me, Saadi saw me too, and found Saad was\nin the right, but could not tell to what he should attribute the\nlittle alteration he saw in my person; and was so much amazed,\nthat he could not speak when he came up to me. \"Well, Hassan,\"\nsaid Saad, \"we do not ask you how affairs go since we saw you\nlast; without doubt they are in a better train.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" replied I, addressing myself to them both, \"I have\nthe great mortification to tell you, that your desires, wishes,\nand hopes, as well as mine, have not had the success you had\nreason to expect, and I had promised myself; you will scarcely\nbelieve the extraordinary adventure that has befallen me. I\nassure you nevertheless, on the word of an honest man, and you\nought to believe me, for nothing is more true than what I am\ngoing to tell you.\" I then related to them my adventure, with the\nsame circumstances I had the honour to tell your majesty.\n\nSaadi rejected my assertion, and said, \"Hassan, you joke, and\nwould deceive me; for what you say is a thing incredible. What\nhave vultures to do with turbans? They only search for something\nto satisfy their hunger. You have done as all such people as\nyourself generally do. If they have made any extraordinary gain,\nor any good fortune happens to them, which they never expected,\nthey throw aside their work, take their pleasure, make merry,\nwhile the money lasts; and when they have eaten and drunk it all\nout, are reduced to the same necessity and want as before. You\nwould not be so miserable, but because you deserve it, and render\nyourself unworthy of any service done to you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" I replied, \"I bear all these reproaches, and am ready to\nbear as many more, if they were more severe, and all with the\ngreater patience because I do not think I deserve them. The thing\nis so publicly known in this part of the town, that there is\nnobody but can satisfy you of the truth of my assertions. If you\ninquire, you will find that I do not impose upon you. I own, I\nnever heard of vultures flying away with turbans; but this has\nactually happened to me, like many other things, which do not\nfall out every day, and yet have actually happened.\"\n\nSaad took my part, and told Saadi a great many as surprising\nstories of vultures, some of which he affirmed he knew to be\ntrue, insomuch that at last he pulled his purse out of his\nvestband, and counted out two hundred pieces of gold into my\nhand, which I put into my bosom for want of a purse.\n\nWhen Saadi had presented me with this sum, he said, \"Hassan, I\nmake you a present of these two hundred pieces; but take care to\nput them in a safer place, that you may not lose them so\nunfortunately as you have done the others, and employ them in\nsuch a manner that they may procure you the advantages which the\nothers would have done.\" I told him that the obligation of this\nhis second kindness was much greater than I deserved, after what\nhad happened, and that I should be sure to make good use of his\nadvice. I would have said a great deal more, but he did not give\nme time, for he went away, and continued his walk with his\nfriend.\n\nAs soon as they were gone, I left off work, and went home, but\nfinding neither my wife nor children within, I pulled out my\nmoney, put ten pieces by, and wrapped up the rest in a clean\nlinen cloth, tying it fast with a knot; but then I was to\nconsider where I should hide this linen cloth that it might be\nsafe. After I had considered some time, I resolved to put it in\nthe bottom of an earthen vessel full of bran, which stood in a\ncorner, which I imagined neither my wife nor children would look\ninto. My wife came home soon after, and as I had but little hemp\nin the house, I told her I should go out to buy some, without\nsaying any thing to her about the two friends.\n\nWhile I was absent, a sandman, who sells scouring earth for the\nhair and body, which women use in the baths, passed through our\nstreet, and called, \"Cleansing, ho!\" My wife, who wanted some,\nbeckoned to him: but as she had no money, asked him if he would\nmake an exchange of some earth for some bran. The sandman asked\nto see the bran. My wife shewed him the pot; the bargain was\nmade; she had the cleansing earth, with which she filled a dust\nhole I had made to the house, and the sandman took the pot and\nbran along with him.\n\nNot long after I came home with as much hemp as I could carry,\nand followed by five porters loaded also with hemp. After I had\nsatisfied them for their trouble, I sat down to rest myself; and\nlooking about me, could not see the pot of bran.\n\nIt is impossible for me to express to your majesty my surprise\nand the effect it had on me at the moment. I asked my wife\nhastily what was become of it; when she told me the bargain she\nhad made with the sandman, which she thought to be a very good\none.\n\n\"Ah! unfortunate woman!\" cried I, \"you know not the injury you\nhave done me, yourself, and our children, by making that bargain,\nwhich has ruined us for ever. You thought you only sold the bran,\nbut with the bran you have enriched the sandman with a hundred\nand ninety pieces of gold, which Saadi with his friend came and\nmade me a second present of.\"\n\nMy wife was like one distracted, when she knew what a fault she\nhad committed through ignorance. She cried, beat her breast, and\ntore her hair and clothes. \"Unhappy wretch that I am,\" cried she,\n\"am I fit to live after so dreadful a mistake! Where shall I find\nthis sandman? I know him not, I never saw him in our street\nbefore. Oh! husband,\" added she, \"you were much to blame to be so\nreserved in a matter of such importance This had never happened,\nif you had communicated the secret to me.\" In short, I should\nnever finish my story were I to tell your majesty what her grief\nmade her say. You are not ignorant how eloquent women often are\nin their afflictions.\n\n\"Wife,\" said I, \"moderate your grief: by your weeping and howling\nyou will alarm the neighbourhood, and there is no reason they\nshould be informed of our misfortunes. They will only laugh at,\ninstead of pitying us. We had best bear our loss patiently, and\nsubmit ourselves to the will of God, and bless him, for that out\nof two hundred pieces of gold which he had given us, he has taken\nback but a hundred and ninety, and left us ten, which, by the use\nI shall make of them will be a great relief to us.\"\n\nMy wife at first did not relish my arguments; but as time softens\nthe greatest misfortunes, and makes them more supportable, she at\nlast grew easy, and had almost forgotten them. \"It is true,\" said\nI to her, \"we live but poorly; but what have the rich which we\nhave not? Do not we breathe the same air, enjoy the same light\nand the same warmth of the sun? Therefore what conveniences have\nthey more than we, that we should envy their happiness? They die\nas well as we. In short, while we live in the fear of God, as we\nshould always do, the advantage they have over us is so very\ninconsiderable, that we ought not to covet it.\"\n\nI will not tire your majesty any longer with my moral\nreflections. My wife and I comforted ourselves, and I pursued my\ntrade with as much alacrity as before these two mortifying\nlosses, which followed one another so quickly. The only thing\nthat troubled me sometimes was, how I should look Saadi in the\nface when he should come and ask me how I had improved his two\nhundred pieces of gold, and advanced my fortune by means of his\nliberality. I saw no remedy but to resolve to submit to the\nconfusion I should feel, though it was by no fault of mine this\ntime, any more than before, that our misfortune had happened.\n\nThe two friends stayed away longer this time than the former,\nthough Saad had often spoken to Saadi, who always put it off;\nfor, said he, \"The longer we stay away, the richer Hassan will\nbe, and I shall have the greater satisfaction.\"\n\nSaad, who had not the same opinion of the effect of his friend's\ngenerosity, replied, \"You fancy then that your last present will\nhave been turned to a better account than the former. I would\nadvise you not to flatter yourself too much, for fear you may be\nmore sensibly mortified if it should prove otherwise.\" \"Why,\"\nreplied Saadi, \"vultures do not fly away with turbans every day;\nand Hassan will have been more cautious this time.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt it,\" replied Saad; \"but,\" added he, \"there are\nother accidents that neither you nor I can think of; therefore, I\nsay again, moderate your expectations, and do not depend too much\non Hassan's success; for to tell you what I think, and what I\nalways thought (whether you like to hear it or not), I have a\nsecret presentiment that you will not have accomplished your\npurpose, and that I shall succeed better in proving that a poor\nman may sooner become rich by other means than money.\"\n\nOne day, when Saad and Saadi were disputing upon this subject,\nSaad observed that enough had been said; \"I am resolved,\"\ncontinued he, \"to inform myself this very day what has passed; it\nis a pleasing time for walking, let us not lose it, but go and\nsee which of us has lost the wager.\" I saw them at a distance,\nwas overcome with confusion, and was just going to leave my work,\nto run and hide myself. However I refrained, appeared very\nearnest at work, made as if I had not seen them, and never lifted\nup my eyes till they were close to me and had saluted me, and\nthen I could not help myself. I hung down my head, told them my\nlast misfortune, with all the circumstances, and that I was as\npoor as when they first saw me.\n\n\"After that,\" I added, \"you may say that I ought to have hidden\nmy money in another place than in a pot of bran, which was\ncarried out of my house the same day: but that pot had stood\nthere many years, and had never been removed, whenever my wife\nparted with the bran. Could I guess that a sandman should come by\nthat very day, my wife have no money, and would make such an\nexchange? You may indeed allege, that I ought to have told my\nwife of it; but I will never believe that such prudent persons,\nas I am persuaded you are, would have given me that advice; and\nif I had put my money anywhere else, what certainty could I have\nhad that it would be more secure?\"\n\n\"I see, sir,\" said I, addressing myself to Saadi, \"that it has\npleased God, whose ways are secret and impenetrable, that I\nshould not be enriched by your liberality, but that I must remain\npoor: however, the obligation is the same as if it had wrought\nthe desired effect.\"\n\nAfter these words I was silent; and Saadi replied, \"Though I\nwould persuade myself, Hassan, that all you tell us is true, and\nnot owing to your debauchery or ill management, yet I must not be\nextravagant, and ruin myself for the sake of an experiment. I do\nnot regret in the least the four hundred pieces of gold I gave\nyou to raise you in the world. I did it in duty to God, without\nexpecting any recompense but the pleasure of doing good. If any\nthing makes me repent, it is, that I did not address myself to\nanother, who might have made a better use of my charity.\" Then\nturning about to his friend, \"Saad,\" continued he, \"you may know\nby what I have said that I do not entirely give up the cause. You\nmay now make your experiment, and let me see that there are ways,\nbesides giving money, to make a poor man's fortune. Let Hassan be\nthe man. I dare say, whatever you may give him he will not be\nricher than he was with four hundred pieces of gold.\" Saad had a\npiece of lead in his hand, which he shewed Saadi. \"You saw me,\"\nsaid he, \"take up this piece of lead, which I found on the\nground; I will give it Hassan, and you shall see what it is\nworth.\"\n\nSaadi, burst out laughing at Saad. \"What is that bit of lead\nworth,\" said he, \"a farthing? What can Hassan do with that?\" Saad\npresented it to me, and said, \"Take it, Hassan; let Saadi laugh,\nyou will tell us some news of the good luck it has brought you\none time or another.\" I thought Saad was in jest, and had a mind\nto divert himself: however I took the lead, and thanked him. The\ntwo friends pursued their walk, and I fell to work again.\n\nAt night when I pulled off my clothes to go to bed, the piece of\nlead, which I had never thought of from the time he gave it me,\ntumbled out of my pocket. I took it up, and laid it on the place\nthat was nearest me. The same night it happened that a fisherman,\na neighbour, mending his nets, found a piece of lead wanting; and\nit being too late to buy any, as the shops were shut, and he must\neither fish that night, or his family go without bread the next\nday, he called to his wife and bade her inquire among the\nneighbours for a piece. She went from door to door on both sides\nof the street, but could not get any, and returned to tell her\nhusband her ill success. He asked her if she had been to several\nof their neighbours, naming them, and among the rest my house.\n\"No indeed,\" said the wife, \"I have not been there; that was too\nfar off, and if I had gone, do you think I should have found any?\nI know by experience they never have any thing when one wants\nit.\" \"No matter,\" said the fisherman, \"you are an idle hussy; you\nmust go there; for though you have been there a hundred times\nbefore without getting any thing, you may chance to obtain what\nwe want now. You must go.\"\n\nThe fisherman's wife went out grumbling, came and knocked at my\ndoor, and waked me out of a sound sleep. I asked her what she\nwanted. \"Hassan,\" said she, as loud as she could bawl, \"my\nhusband wants a bit of lead to load his nets with; and if you\nhave a piece, desires you to give it him.\"\n\nThe piece of lead which Saad had given me was so fresh in my\nmemory, and had so lately dropped out of my clothes, that I could\nnot forget it. I told my neighbour I had some; and if she would\nstay a moment my wife should give it to her. Accordingly, my\nwife, who was wakened by the noise as well as myself, got up, and\ngroping about where I directed her, found the lead, opened the\ndoor, and gave it to the fisherman's wife, who was so overjoyed\nthat she promised my wife, that in return for the kindness she\ndid her and her husband, she would answer for him we should have\nthe first cast of the nets.\n\nThe fisherman was so much rejoiced to see the lead, which he so\nlittle expected, that he much approved his wife's promise. He\nfinished mending his nets, and went a-fishing two hours before\nday, according to custom. At the first throw he caught but one\nfish, about a yard long, and proportionable in thickness; but\nafterwards had a great many successful casts; though of all the\nfish he took none equalled the first in size.\n\nWhen the fisherman had done fishing, he went home, where his\nfirst care was to think of me. I was extremely surprised, when at\nmy work, to see him come to me with a large fish in his hand.\n\"Neighbour,\" said he, \"my wife promised you last night, in return\nfor your kindness, whatever fish I should catch at my first\nthrow; and I approved her promise. It pleased God to send me no\nmore than this one for you, which, such as it is, I desire you to\naccept. I wish it had been better. Had he sent me my net full,\nthey should all have been yours.\"\n\n\"Neighbour,\" said I, \"the bit of lead which I sent you was such a\ntrifle, that it ought not to be valued at so high a rate:\nneighbours should assist each other in their little wants. I have\ndone no more for you than I should have expected from you had I\nbeen in your situation; therefore I would refuse your present, if\nI were not persuaded you gave it me freely, and that I should\noffend you; and since you will have it so, I take it, and return\nyou my hearty thanks.\"\n\nAfter these civilities, I took the fish, and carried it home to\nmy wife. \"Here,\" said I, \"take this fish, which the fisherman our\nneighbour has made me a present of, in return for the bit of lead\nhe sent to us for last night: I believe it is all we can expect\nfrom the present Saad made me yesterday, promising me that it\nwould bring me good luck;\" and then I told her what had passed\nbetween the two friends.\n\nMy wife was much startled to see so large a fish. \"What would you\nhave me do with it?\" said she. \"Our gridiron is only fit to broil\nsmall fish; and we have not a pot big enough to boil it.\" \"That\nis your business,\" answered I; \"dress it as you will, I shall\nlike it either way.\" I then went to my work again.\n\nIn gutting the fish, my wife found a large diamond, which, when\nshe washed it, she took for a piece of glass: indeed she had\nheard talk of diamonds, but if she had ever seen or handled any\nshe would not have known how to distinguish them. She gave it to\nthe youngest of our children for a plaything, and his brothers\nand sisters handed it about from one to another, to admire its\nbrightness and beauty.\n\nAt night when the lamp was lighted, and the children were still\nplaying with the diamond, they perceived that it gave a light,\nwhen my wife, who was getting them their supper, stood between\nthem and the lamp; upon which they snatched it from one another\nto try it; and the younger children fell a-crying, that the elder\nwould not let them have it long enough. But as a little matter\namuses children, and makes them squabble and fall out, my wife\nand I took no notice of their noise, which presently ceased, when\nthe bigger ones supped with us, and my wife had given the younger\neach their share.\n\nAfter supper the children got together again, and began to make\nthe same noise. I then called to the eldest to know what was the\nmatter, who told me it was about a piece of glass, which gave a\nlight when his back was to the lamp. I bade him bring it to me,\nmade the experiment myself, and it appeared so extraordinary,\nthat I asked my wife what it was. She told me it was a piece of\nglass, which she had found in gutting the fish.\n\nI thought no more than herself but that it was a bit of glass,\nbut I was resolved to make a farther experiment of it; and\ntherefore bade my wife put the lamp in the chimney, which she\ndid, and still found that the supposed piece of glass gave so\ngreat a light, that we might see to go to bed without the lamp.\nSo I put it out, and placed the bit of glass upon the chimney to\nlight us. \"Look,\" said I, \"this is another advantage that Saad's\npiece of lead procures us: it will spare us the expense of oil.\"\n\nWhen the children saw the lamp was put out, and the bit of glass\nsupplied the place, they cried out so loud, and made so great a\nnoise from astonishment, that it was enough to alarm the\nneighbourhood; and before my wife and I could quiet them we were\nforced to make a greater noise, nor could we silence them till we\nhad put them to bed; where after talking a long while in their\nway about the wonderful light of a bit of glass, they fell\nasleep. After they were asleep, my wife and I went to bed by\nthem; and next morning, without thinking any more of the glass, I\nwent to my work as usual; which ought not to seem strange for\nsuch a man as I, who had never seen any diamonds, or if I had,\nnever attended to their value.\n\nBut before I proceed, I must tell your majesty that there was but\na very slight partition-wall between my house and my next\nneighbour's, who was a very rich Jew, and a jeweller; and the\nchamber that he and his wife lay in joined to ours. They were\nboth in bed, and the noise my children made awakened them.\n\nThe next morning the jeweller's wife came to mine to complain of\nbeing disturbed out of their first sleep. \"Good neighbour\nRachel,\" (which was the Jew's wife's name,) said my wife, \"I am\nvery sorry for what happened, and hope you will excuse it: you\nknow it was caused by the children, and they will laugh and cry\nfor a trifle. Come in, and I will shew you what was the occasion\nof the noise.\"\n\nThe Jewess went in with her, and my wife taking the diamond (for\nsuch it really was, and a very extraordinary one) out of the\nchimney, put it into her hands. \"See here,\" said she, \"it was\nthis piece of glass that caused all the noise;\" and while the\nJewess, who understood all sorts of precious stones, was\nexamining the diamond with admiration, my wife told her how she\nfound it in the fish's belly, and what happened.\n\n\"Indeed, Ayesha,\" (which was my wife's name,) said the jeweller's\nwife, giving her the diamond again, \"I believe as you do it is a\npiece of glass; but as it is more beautiful than common glass,\nand I have just such another piece at home, I will buy it, if you\nwill sell it.\"\n\nThe children, who heard them talking of selling their plaything,\npresently interrupted their conversation, crying and begging\ntheir mother not to part with it, who, to quiet them, promised\nshe would not.\n\nThe Jewess being thus prevented in her intended swindling bargain\nby my children, went away, but first whispered my wife, who\nfollowed her to the door, if she had a mind to sell it, not to\nshew it to anybody without acquainting her.\n\nThe Jew went out early in the morning to his shop in that part of\nthe town where the jewellers sell their goods. Thither his wife\nfollowed, and told him the discovery she had made. She gave him\nan account of the size and weight of the diamond as nearly as she\ncould guess, also of its beauty, water, and lustre, and\nparticularly of the light which it gave in the night according to\nmy wife's account, which was the more credible as she was\nuninformed.\n\nThe Jew sent his wife immediately to treat, to offer her a trifle\nat first, as she should think fit, and then to raise her price by\ndegrees; but be sure to bring it, cost what it would. Accordingly\nhis wife came again to mine privately, and asked her if she would\ntake twenty pieces of gold for the piece of glass she had shown\nher.\n\nMy wife, thinking the sum too considerable for a mere piece of\nglass as she had thought it, would not make any bargain; but told\nher, she could not part with it till she had spoken to me. In the\nmean time I came from my work to dinner. As they were talking at\nthe door, my wife stopped me, and asked if I would sell the piece\nof glass she had found in the fish's belly for twenty pieces of\ngold, which our neighbour offered her. I returned no answer; but\nreflected immediately on the assurance with which Saad, in giving\nme the piece of lead, told me it would make my fortune. The\nJewess, fancying that the low price she had offered was the\nreason I made no reply, said, \"I will give you fifty, neighbour,\nif that will do.\"\n\nAs soon as I found that she rose so suddenly from twenty to\nfifty, I told her that I expected a great deal more. \"Well,\nneighbour,\" said she, \"I will give you a hundred, and that is so\nmuch, I know not whether my husband will approve my offering it.\"\nAt this new advance, I told her I would have a hundred thousand\npieces of gold for it; that I saw plainly that the diamond, for\nsuch I now guessed it must be, was worth a great deal more, but\nto oblige her and her husband, as they were neighbours, I would\nlimit myself to that price, which I was determined to have; and\nif they refused to give it, other jewellers should have it, who\nwould give a great deal more.\n\nThe Jewess confirmed me in this resolution, by her eagerness to\nconclude a bargain; and by coming up at several biddings to fifty\nthousand pieces, which I refused. \"I can offer you no more,\" said\nshe, \"without my husband's consent. He will be at home at night;\nand I would beg the favour of you to let him see it, which I\npromised.\"\n\nAt night when the Jew came home, his wife told him what she had\ndone; that she had got no forwarder with my wife or me; that she\noffered, and I had refused, fifty thousand pieces of gold; but\nthat I had promised to stay till night at her request. He\nobserved the time when I left off work, and came to me.\n\"Neighbour Hassan\", said he, \"I desire you would shew me the\ndiamond your wife shewed to mine.\" I brought him in, and shewed\nit to him. As it was very dark, and my lamp was not lighted, he\nknew instantly, by the light the diamond gave, and by the lustre\nit cast in my hand, that his wife had given him a true account of\nit. He looked at and admired it a long time. \"Well, neighbour,\"\nsaid he, \"my wife tells me she offered you fifty thousand pieces\nof gold: I will give you twenty thousand more.\"\n\n\"Neighbour,\" said I, \"your wife can tell you that I valued my\ndiamond at a hundred thousand pieces, and I will take nothing\nless.\" He haggled a long time with me, in hopes that I would make\nsome abatement: but finding at last that I was positive, and for\nfear that I should shew it to other jewellers, as I certainly\nshould have done, he would not leave me till the bargain was\nconcluded on my own terms. He told me that he had not so much\nmoney at home, but would pay it all to me on the morrow, that\nvery instant fetched two bags of a thousand pieces each, as an\nearnest; and the next day, though I do not know how he raised the\nmoney, whether he borrowed it of his friends, or let some other\njewellers into partnership with him, he brought me the sum we had\nagreed for at the time appointed, and I delivered to him the\ndiamond.\n\nHaving thus sold my diamond, and being rich, infinitely beyond my\nhopes, I thanked God for his bounty; and would have gone and\nthrown myself at Saad's feet to express my gratitude, if I had\nknown where he lived; as also at Saadi's, to whom I was first\nobliged, though his good intention had not the same success.\n\nAfterwards I thought of the use I ought to make of so\nconsiderable a sum. My wife, with the vanity natural to her sex,\nproposed immediately to buy rich clothes for herself and\nchildren; to purchase a house, and furnish it handsomely. I told\nher we ought not to begin with such expenses; \"for,\" said I,\n\"money should only be spent, so that it may produce a fund from\nwhich we may draw without its failing. This I intend, and shall\nbegin to-morrow.\"\n\n\nI spent all that day and the next in going to the people of my\nown trade, who worked as hard every day for their bread as I had\ndone; and giving them money beforehand, engaged them to work for\nme in different sorts of rope-making, according to their skill\nand ability, with a promise not to make them wait for their\nmoney, but to pay them as soon as their work was done.\n\nBy this means I engrossed almost all the business of Bagdad, and\neverybody was pleased with my exactness and punctual payment.\n\nAs so great a number of workmen produced, as your majesty may\njudge, a large quantity of work, I hired warehouses in several\nparts of the town to hold my goods, and appointed over each a\nclerk, to sell both wholesale and retail; and by this economy\nreceived considerable profit and income. Afterwards, to unite my\nconcerns in one spot, I bought a large house, which stood on a\ngreat deal of ground, but was ruinous, pulled it down, and built\nthat your majesty saw yesterday, which, though it makes so great\nan appearance, consists, for the most part, of warehouses for my\nbusiness, with apartments absolutely necessary for myself and\nfamily.\n\nSome time after I had left my old mean habitation, and removed to\nthis, Saad and Saadi, who had scarcely thought of me from the\nlast time they had been with me, as they were one day walking\ntogether, and passing by our street, resolved to call upon me:\nbut great was their surprise when they did not see me at work.\nThey asked what was become of me, and if I was alive or dead.\nTheir amazement was redoubled, when they were told I was become a\ngreat manufacturer, and was no longer called plain Hassan, but\nKhaujeh Hassan al Hubbaul, and that I had built in a street,\nwhich was named to them, a house like a palace.\n\nThe two friends went directly to the street, and in the way, as\nSaadi could not imagine that the bit of lead which Saad had given\nme could have been the raising of my fortune, he said to him, \"I\nam overjoyed to have made Hassan's fortune: but I cannot forgive\nthe two lies he told me, to get four hundred pieces instead of\ntwo; for I cannot attribute it to the piece of lead you gave\nhim.\"\n\n\"So you think,\" replied Saad: \"but so do not I. I do not see why\nyou should do Khaujeh Hassan so much injustice as to take him for\na liar. You must give me leave to believe that he told us the\ntruth, disguised nothing from us, that the piece of lead which I\ngave him is the cause of his prosperity: and you will find he\nwill presently tell us so.\"\n\nDuring their discourse the two friends came into the street where\nI lived, asked whereabouts my house stood; and being shewn it,\ncould hardly believe it to be mine.\n\nThey knocked at the door, and my porter opened it; when Saadi,\nfearing to be guilty of rudeness in taking the house of a\nnobleman for that he was inquiring after, said to the porter, \"We\nare informed that this is the house of Khaujeh Hassan al Hubbaul:\ntell us if we are mistaken.\" \"You are very right, sir,\" said the\nporter, opening the door wider; \"it is the same; come in; he is\nin the hall, and any of the slaves will point him out to you.\"\n\nI had no sooner set my eyes upon the two friends, than I knew\nthem. I rose from my seat, ran to them, and would have kissed the\nhem of their garments; but they would not suffer it, and embraced\nme. I invited them to a sofa made to hold four persons, which was\nplaced full in view of my garden. I desired them to sit down, and\nthey would have me take the place of honour. I assured them I had\nnot forgotten that I was poor Hassan the ropemaker, nor the\nobligations I had to them; but were this not the case, I knew the\nrespect due to them, and begged them not to expose me. They sat\ndown in the proper place, and I seated myself opposite to them.\n\nThen Saadi, addressing himself to me, said, \"Khaujeh Hassan, I\ncannot express my joy to see you in the condition I wished you,\nwhen I twice made you a present of two hundred pieces of gold,\nfor I mean not to upbraid you; though I am persuaded that those\nfour hundred pieces have made this wonderful change in your\nfortune, which I behold with pleasure. One thing only vexes me,\nwhich is, that you should twice disguise the truth from me,\npretending that your losses were the effect of misfortunes which\nnow seem to me more than ever incredible. Was it not because,\nwhen we were together the last time, you had so little advanced\nyour small income with the four hundred pieces of gold, that you\nwere ashamed to own it? I am willing to believe this, and wait to\nbe confirmed in my opinion.\"\n\nSaad heard this speech of Saadi's with impatience, not to say\nindignation, which he shewed by casting down his eyes and shaking\nhis head: he did not, however, interrupt him. When he had done,\nhe said to him, \"Forgive me, Saadi, if I anticipate Khaujeh\nHassan, before he answers you, to tell you, that I am vexed at\nyour prepossession against his sincerity, and that you still\npersist in not believing the assurances he has already given you.\nI have told you before, and I repeat it once more, that I believe\nthose two accidents which befell him, upon his bare assertion;\nand whatever you may say, I am persuaded they are true; but let\nhim speak himself, and say which of us does him justice.\"\n\nAfter this discourse of the two friends, I said, addressing\nmyself to them both, \"Gentlemen, I should condemn myself to\nperpetual silence, on the explanation you ask of me, if I were\nnot certain the dispute you have had on my account cannot break\nthat friendship which subsists between you; therefore I will\ndeclare to you the truth, since you require it; and with the same\nsincerity as before.\" I then told them every circumstance your\nmajesty has heard, without forgetting the least.\n\nAll my protestations had no effect on Saadi, to cure him of his\nprejudice. \"Khaujeh Hassan,\" replied he, \"the adventure of the\nfish, and diamond found in his belly, appears to me as incredible\nas the vulture's flying away with your turban, and the exchange\nof the scouring earth. Be it as it may, I am equally convinced\nthat you are no longer poor, but rich as I intended you should\nbe, by my means; and I rejoice sincerely.\"\n\nAs it grew late, they arose up to depart; when I stopped them,\nand said, \"Gentlemen, there is one favour I have to ask; I beg of\nyou not to refuse to do me the honour to stay and take a slight\nsupper with me, also a bed to-night, and to-morrow I will carry\nyou by water to a small country-house, which I bought for the\nsake of the air, and we will return the same day on my horses.\"\n\n\"If Saad has no business that calls him elsewhere,\" said Saadi,\n\"I consent.\" Saad told him that nothing should prevent his\nenjoying his company. We have only to send a slave to my house,\nthat we may not be waited for. I provided a slave; and while they\nwere giving him their orders, I went and ordered supper.\n\nWhile it was getting ready, I shewed my benefactors my house, and\nall my offices, which they thought very extensive considering my\nfortune: I call them both benefactors without distinction,\nbecause without Saadi, Saad would never have given me the piece\nof lead; and without Saad, Saadi would not have given me the four\nhundred pieces of gold. Then I brought them back again into the\nhall, where they asked me several questions about my concerns;\nand I gave them such answers as satisfied them.\n\nDuring this conversation, my servants came to tell me that supper\nwas served up. I led them into another hall, where they admired\nthe manner in which it was lighted, the furniture, and the\nentertainment I had provided. I regaled them also with a concert\nof vocal and instrumental music during the repast, and afterwards\nwith a company of dancers, and other entertainments, endeavouring\nas much as possible to shew them my gratitude.\n\nThe next morning, as we had agreed to set out early to enjoy the\nfresh air, we repaired to the river-side by sun-rise, and went on\nboard a pleasure-boat well carpeted that waited for us; and in\nless than an hour and a half, with six good rowers, and the\nstream, we arrived at my country house.\n\nWhen we went ashore, the two friends stopped to observe the\nbeauty of the architecture of my house, and to admire its\nadvantageous situation for prospects, which were neither too much\nlimited nor too extensive, but such as made it very agreeable. I\nthen conducted them into all the apartments, and shewed them the\nout-houses and conveniences; with all which they were very well\npleased\n\nAfterwards we walked in the gardens, where what they were most\nstruck with was a grove of orange and lemon trees, loaded with\nfruit and flowers, which were planted at equal distances, and\nwatered by channels cut from a neighbouring stream. The close\nshade, the fragrant smell which perfumed the air, the soft\nmurmurings of the water, the harmonious notes of an infinite\nnumber of birds, and many other agreeable circumstances, struck\nthem in such a manner, that they frequently stopped to express\nhow much they were obliged to me for bringing them to so\ndelightful a place, and to congratulate me on my great\nacquisitions, with other compliments. I led them to the end of\nthe grove, which was very long and broad, where I shewed them a\nwood of large trees, which terminated my garden, and afterwards a\nsummer-house, open on all sides, shaded by a clump of palm-trees,\nbut not so as to injure the prospect; I then invited them to walk\nin, and repose themselves on a sofa covered with carpets and\ncushions.\n\nTwo of my boys, whom I had sent into the country, with a tutor,\nfor the air, had gone just then into the wood, and seeing a nest\nwhich was built in the branches of a lofty tree, they attempted\nto get at it; but as they had neither strength nor skill to\naccomplish their object, they shewed it to the slave who waited\non them, and bade him climb the tree for it. The slave, when he\ncame to it, was much surprised to find it composed of a turban:\nhowever he took it, brought it down, and shewed it to my\nchildren; and as he thought that I might like to see a nest that\nwas so uncommon, he gave it to the eldest boy to bring to me.\n\nI saw the children at a distance, coming back to us, overjoyed to\nhave procured a nest. \"Father,\" said the eldest, \"we have found a\nnest in a turban.\" The two friends and I were very much surprised\nat the novelty; but I much more, when I recognized the turban to\nbe that which the vulture had flown away with. After I had\nexamined it well, and turned it about, I said to my guests,\n\"Gentlemen, have you memories good enough to remember the turban\nI had on the day you did me the honour first to speak to me?\" \"I\ndo not think,\" said Saad, \"that either my friend or I gave any\nattention to it; but if the hundred and ninety pieces of gold are\nin it, we cannot doubt of it.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied I, \"there is no doubt but it is the same turban;\nfor besides that I know it perfectly well, I feel by the weight\nit is too heavy to be any other, and you will perceive this if\nyou give yourself the trouble to take it in your hand.\" Then\nafter taking out the birds, and giving them to the children, I\nput it into his hands, and he gave it to Saadi. \"Indeed,\" said\nSaadi, \"I believe it to be your turban; which I shall, however,\nbe better convinced of when I see the hundred and ninety pieces\nof gold.\"\n\n\"Now, sir,\" added I, taking the turban again, \"observe well\nbefore I unwrap it, that it is of no very fresh date in the tree;\nand the state in which you see it, and the nest so neatly made in\nit, without having been touched by the hand of man, are\nsufficient proofs that the vulture drops or laid it in the tree\nupon the day it was seized; and that the branches hindered it\nfrom falling to the ground. Excuse my making this remark, since\nit concerns me so much to remove all suspicions of fraud.\" Saad\nbacked me in what I urged; and said, \"Saadi, this regards you and\nnot me, for I am verily persuaded that Khaujeh Hassan does not\nimpose upon us.\"\n\nWhile Saad was talking, I pulled off the linen cloth which was\nwrapped about the cap of the turban, and took out the purse,\nwhich Saadi knew to be the same he had given me. I emptied it on\nthe carpet before them, and said, \"There, gentlemen, there is the\nmoney, count it, and see if it be right;\" which Saad did, and\nfound it to be one hundred and ninety pieces of gold. Then Saadi,\nwho could not deny so manifest a truth, addressing himself to me\nsaid, \"I agree, Khaujeh Hassan, that this money could not serve\nto enrich you; but the other hundred and ninety pieces, which you\nwould make me believe you hid in a pot of bran, might.\" \"Sir,\"\nanswered I, \"I have told you the truth in regard to both sums:\nyou would not have me retract, to make myself a liar.\"\n\n\"Khaujeh Hassan,\" said Saad, \"leave Saadi to his own opinion; I\nconsent with all my heart that he believes you are obliged to him\nfor one part of your good fortune, by means of the last sum he\ngave you, provided he will agree that I contributed to the other\nhalf by the bit of lead, and will not pretend to dispute the\nvaluable diamond found in the fish's belly.\" \"I agree to it,\"\nanswered Saadi, \"but still you must give me liberty to believe\nthat money is not to be amassed without money.\"\n\n\"What,\" replied Saad, \"if chance should throw a diamond in my way\nworth fifty thousand pieces of gold, and I should have that sum\ngiven me for it, can it be said I got that sum by money?\"\n\nThey disputed no farther at this time; we rose, and went into the\nhouse, just as dinner was serving up. After dinner, I left my\nguests together, to pass away the heat of the day more at their\nliberty, and with great composure, while I went to give orders to\nmy housekeeper and gardener,\n\nAfterwards I returned to them again, and we talked of indifferent\nmatters till it grew a little cooler; when we returned into the\ngarden for fresh air, and stayed till sun-set. We then mounted on\nhorseback, and got to Bagdad by moonlight, two hours after,\nfollowed by one of my slaves.\n\nIt happened, I know not by what negligence of my servants, that\nwe were then out of grain for the horses, and the storehouses\nwere all shut up; when one of my slaves seeking about the\nneighbourhood for some, met with a pot of bran in a shop; bought\nthe bran, and brought the pot along with him, promising to carry\nit back again the next day. The slave emptied the bran, and\ndividing it with his hands among the horses, felt a linen cloth\ntied up, and very heavy; he brought the cloth to me in the\ncondition that he found it, and presented it to me, telling me,\nthat it might perhaps be the cloth he had often heard me talk of\namong my friends.\n\nOverjoyed, I said to my two benefactors, \"Gentlemen, it has\npleased God that you should not part from me without being fully\nconvinced of the truth of what I have assured you. There are the\nother hundred and ninety pieces of gold which you gave me,\"\ncontinued I, addressing myself to Saadi; \"I know it well by the\ncloth, which I tied up with my own hands;\" and then I told out\nthe money before them. I ordered the pot to be brought to me,\nknew it to be the same; and sent to my wife to ask if she\nrecognized it, ordering them to say nothing to her of what had\nhappened. She knew it immediately, and sent me word that it was\nthe same pot she had exchanged full of bran for the scouring-\nearth.\n\nSaadi readily submitted, renounced his incredulity; and said to\nSaad, \"I yield to you, and acknowledge that money is not always\nthe means of becoming rich.\"\n\nWhen Saadi had spoken, I said to him, \"I dare not propose to\nreturn you the three hundred and eighty pieces of gold which it\nhath pleased God should be found, to undeceive you as to the\nopinion of my honesty. I am persuaded that you did not give them\nto me with an intention that I should return them; but as I ought\nto be content with what Providence has sent me from other\nquarters, and I do not design to make use of them; if you approve\nof my proposal, to-morrow I will give them to the poor, that God\nmay bless us both.\"\n\nThe two friends lay at my house that night also; and next day,\nafter embracing me, returned home, well pleased with the\nreception I had given them, and to find I did not make an\nimproper use of the riches Heaven had blessed me with. I thanked\nthem both, and regarded the permission they gave me to cultivate\ntheir friendship, and to visit them, as a great honour.\n\nThe caliph was so attentive to Khaujeh Hassan's story, that he\nhad not perceived the end of it, but by his silence. \"Khaujeh\nHassan,\" said he, \"I have not for a long time heard any thing\nthat has given me so much pleasure, as having been informed of\nthe wonderful ways by which God gave thee thy riches to make thee\nhappy in this world. Thou oughtest to continue to return him\nthanks by the good use thou makest of his blessings. I am glad I\ncan tell thee, that the same diamond which made thy fortune is\nnow in my treasury; and I am happy to learn how it came there:\nbut because there may remain in Saadi some doubts on the\nsingularity of this diamond, which I esteem the most precious and\nvaluable jewel I possess, I would have you carry him with Saad to\nmy treasurer, who shall shew it them, to remove Saadi's unbelief,\nand to let him see that money is not the only means of making a\npoor man rich in a short time, without labour. I would also have\nyou tell the keeper of my treasury this story, that he may have\nit put into writing, and that it may be kept with the diamond.\"\n\nAfter these words the caliph signified to Khaujeh Hassan, Syed\nNaomaun, and Baba Abdoollah, by bowing of his head, that he was\nsatisfied with them; they all took their leaves, by prostrating\nthemselves at the throne, and then retired.\n\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF ALI BABA AND THE FORTY\n                 ROBBERS DESTROYED BY A SLAVE.\n\n\n\nIn a town in Persia, there lived two brothers, one named Cassim,\nthe other Ali Baba. Their father left them scarcely any thing;\nbut as he had divided his little property equally between them,\nit should seem their fortune ought to have been equal; but chance\ndetermined otherwise.\n\nCassim married a wife who soon after became heiress to a large\nsum, and a warehouse full of rich goods; so that he all at once\nbecame one of the richest and most considerable merchants, and\nlived at his ease.\n\nAli Baba on the other hand, who had married a woman as poor as\nhimself, lived in a very wretched habitation, and had no other\nmeans to maintain his wife and children but his daily labour of\ncutting wood, and bringing it upon three asses, which were his\nwhole substance, to town to sell.\n\nOne day, when Ali Baba was in the forest, and had just cut wood\nenough to load his asses, he saw at a distance a great cloud of\ndust, which seemed to be driven towards him: he observed it very\nattentively, and distinguished soon after a body of horse. Though\nthere had been no rumour of robbers in that country, Ali Baba\nbegan to think that they might prove such, and without\nconsidering what might become of his asses, was resolved to save\nhimself. He climbed up a large, thick tree, whose branches, at a\nlittle distance from the ground, were so close to one another\nthat there was but little space between them. He placed himself\nin the middle, from whence he could see all that passed without\nbeing discovered; and the tree stood at the base of a single\nrock, so steep and craggy that nobody could climb up it.\n\nThe troop, who were all well mounted and armed, came to the foot\nof this rock, and there dismounted. Ali Baba counted forty of\nthem, and, from their looks and equipage, was assured that they\nwere robbers. Nor was he mistaken in his opinion: for they were a\ntroop of banditti, who, without doing any harm to the\nneighbourhood, robbed at a distance, and made that place their\nrendezvous; but what confirmed him in his opinion was, that every\nman unbridled his horse, tied him to some shrub, and hung about\nhis neck a bag of corn which they brought behind them. Then each\nof them took his saddle wallet, which seemed to Ali Baba to be\nfull of gold and silver from its weight. One, who was the most\npersonable amongst them, and whom he took to be their captain,\ncame with his wallet on his back under the tree in which Ali Baba\nwas concealed, and making his way through some shrubs, pronounced\nthese words so distinctly, \"Open, Sesame,\" that Ali Baba heard\nhim. As soon as the captain of the robbers had uttered these\nwords, a door opened in the rock; and after he had made all his\ntroop enter before him, he followed them, when the door shut\nagain of itself.\n\nThe robbers stayed some time within the rock, and Ali Baba, who\nfeared that some one, or all of them together, might come out and\ncatch him, if he should endeavour to make his escape, was obliged\nto sit patiently in the tree. He was nevertheless tempted to get\ndown, mount one of their horses, and lead another, driving his\nasses before him with all the haste he could to town; but the\nuncertainty of the event made him choose the safest course.\n\nAt last the door opened again, and the forty robbers came out. As\nthe captain went in last, he came out first, and stood to see\nthem all pass by him; when Ali Baba heard him make the door close\nby pronouncing these words, \"Shut, Sesame.\" Every man went and\nbridled his horse, fastened his wallet, and mounted again; and\nwhen the captain saw them all ready, he put himself at their\nhead, and they returned the way they had come.\n\nAli Baba did not immediately quit his tree; for, said he to\nhimself, they may have forgotten something and may come back\nagain, and then I shall be taken. He followed them with his eyes\nas far as he could see them; and afterwards stayed a considerable\ntime before he descended. Remembering the words the captain of\nthe robbers used to cause the door to open and shut, he had the\ncuriosity to try if his pronouncing them would have the same\neffect. Accordingly, he went among the shrubs, and perceiving the\ndoor concealed behind them, stood before it, and said, \"Open,\nSesame.\" The door instantly flew wide open.\n\nAli Baba, who expected a dark dismal cavern, was surprised to see\nit well lighted and spacious, in form of a vault, which received\nthe light from an opening at the top of the rock. He saw all\nsorts of provisions, rich bales of silk, stuff, brocade, and\nvaluable carpeting, piled upon one another; gold and silver\ningots in great heaps, and money in bags. The sight of all these\nriches made him suppose that this cave must have been occupied\nfor ages by robbers, who had succeeded one another.\n\nAli Baba did not stand long to consider what he should do, but\nwent immediately into the cave, and as soon as he had entered,\nthe door shut of itself. But this did not disturb him, because he\nknew the secret to open it again. He never regarded the silver,\nbut made the best use of his time in carrying out as much of the\ngold coin, which was in bags, at several times, as he thought his\nthree asses could carry. He collected his asses, which were\ndispersed, and when he had loaded them with the bags, laid wood\nover in such a manner that they could not be seen. When he had\ndone he stood before the door, and pronouncing the words, \"Shut,\nSesame,\" the door closed after him, for it had shut of itself\nwhile he was within, but remained open while he was out. He then\nmade the best of his way to town.\n\nWhen Ali Baba got home, he drove his asses into a little yard,\nshut the gates very carefully, threw off the wood that covered\nthe bags, carried them into his house, and ranged them in order\nbefore his wife, who sat on a sofa.\n\nHis wife handled the bags, and finding them full of money,\nsuspected that her husband had been robbing, insomuch that she\ncould not help saying, \"Ali Baba, have you been so unhappy as\nto______.\" \"Be quiet, wife,\" interrupted Ali Baba, \"do not\nfrighten yourself, I am no robber, unless he may be one who\nsteals from robbers. You will no longer entertain an ill opinion\nof me, when I shall tell you my good fortune.\" He then emptied\nthe bags, which raised such a great heap of gold, as dazzled his\nwife's eyes; and when he had done, told her the whole adventure\nfrom beginning to end; and, above all, recommended her to keep it\nsecret.\n\nThe wife, cured of her fears, rejoiced with her husband at their\ngood fortune, and would count all the gold, piece by piece.\n\"Wife,\" replied Ali Baba, \"you do not know what you undertake,\nwhen you pretend to count the money; you will never have done. I\nwill dig a hole, and bury it; there is no time to be lost\". \"You\nare in the right, husband,\" replied she; \"but let us know, as\nnigh as possible, how much we have. I will borrow a small measure\nin the neighbourhood, and measure it, while you dig the hole.\"\n\"What you are going to do is to no purpose, wife,\" said Ali Baba;\n\"if you would take my advice, you had better let it alone, but\nkeep the secret, and do what you please.\"\n\nAway the wife ran to her brother-in-law Cassim, who lived just\nby, but was not then at home; and addressing herself to his wife,\ndesired her to lend her a measure for a little while. Her sister-\nin-law asked her, whether she would have a great or a small one?\nThe other asked for a small one. She bade her stay a little, and\nshe would readily fetch one.\n\nThe sister-in-law did so, but as she knew Ali Baba's poverty, she\nwas curious to know what sort of grain his wife wanted to\nmeasure, and artfully putting some suet at the bottom of the\nmeasure, brought it to her with an excuse, that she was sorry\nthat she had made her stay so long, but that she could not find\nit sooner.\n\nAli Baba's wife went home, set the measure upon the heap of gold,\nfilled it and emptied it often upon the sofa, till she had done:\nwhen she was very well satisfied to find the number of measures\namounted to so many as they did, and went to tell her husband,\nwho had almost finished digging the hole. While Ali Baba was\nburying the gold, his wife, to shew her exactness and diligence\nto her sister-in-law, carried the measure back again, but without\ntaking notice that a piece of gold had stuck to the bottom.\n\"Sister,\" said she, giving it to her again, \"you see that I have\nnot kept your measure long; I am obliged to you for it, and\nreturn it with thanks.\"\n\nAs soon as Ali Baba's wife was gone, Cassim's looked at the\nbottom of the measure, and was in inexpressible surprise to find\na piece of gold stuck to it. Envy immediately possessed her\nbreast. \"What!\" said she, \"has Ali Baba gold so plentiful as to\nmeasure it? Where has that poor wretch got all this wealth?\n\"Cassim, her husband, was not at home, but at his counting-house,\nwhich he left always in the evening. His wife waited for him, and\nthought the time an age; so great was her impatience to tell him\nthe circumstance, at which she guessed he would be as much\nsurprised as herself.\n\nWhen Cassim came home, his wife said to him, \"Cassim, I know you\nthink yourself rich, but you are much mistaken; Ali Baba is\ninfinitely richer than you; he does not count his money but\nmeasures it.\" Cassim desired her to explain the riddle, which she\ndid, by telling him the stratagem she had used to make the\ndiscovery, and shewed him the piece of money, which was so old\nthat they could not tell in what prince's reign it was coined.\n\nCassim, instead of being pleased, conceived a base envy at his\nbrother's prosperity; he could not sleep all that night, and went\nto him in the morning before sun-rise. Cassim, after he had\nmarried the rich widow, had never treated Ali Baba as a brother,\nbut neglected him. \"All Baba,\" said he, accosting him, \"you are\nvery reserved in your affairs; you pretend to be miserably poor,\nand yet you measure gold.\" \"How, brother?\" replied Ali Baba; \"I\ndo not know what you mean: explain yourself.\" \"Do not pretend\nignorance,\" replied Cassim, shewing him the piece of gold his\nwife had given him. \"How many of these pieces,\" added he, \"have\nyou? My wife found this at the bottom of the measure you borrowed\nyesterday.\"\n\nBy this discourse, Ali Baba perceived that Cassim and his wife,\nthrough his own wife's folly, knew what they had so much reason\nto conceal; but what was done could not be recalled; therefore,\nwithout shewing the least surprise or trouble, he confessed all,\ntold his brother by what chance he had discovered this retreat of\nthe thieves, in what place it was; and offered him part of his\ntreasure to keep the secret. \"I expect as much,\" replied Cassim\nhaughtily; \"but I must know exactly where this treasure is, and\nhow I may visit it myself when I choose; otherwise I will go and\ninform against you, and then you will not only get no more, but\nwill lose all you have, and I shall have a share for my\ninformation.\"\n\nAli Baba, more out of his natural good temper, than frightened by\nthe insulting menaces of his unnatural brother, told him all he\ndesired, and even the very words he was to use to gain admission\ninto the cave.\n\nCassim, who wanted no more of Ali Baba, left him, resolving to be\nbeforehand with him, and hoping to get all the treasure to\nhimself. He rose the next morning, long before the sun, and set\nout for the forest with ten mules bearing great chests, which he\ndesigned to fill; and followed the road which Ali Baba had\npointed out to him. He was not long before he reached the rock,\nand found out the place by the tree, and other marks which his\nbrother had given him. When he reached the entrance of the\ncavern, he pronounced the words, \"Open, Sesame,\" the door\nimmediately opened, and when he was in, closed upon him. In\nexamining the cave, he was in great admiration to find much more\nriches than he had apprehended from Ali Baba's relation. He was\nso covetous, and greedy of wealth, that he could have spent the\nwhole day in feasting his eyes with so much treasure, if the\nthought that he came to carry some away had not hindered him. He\nlaid as many bags of gold as he could carry at the door of the\ncavern, but his thoughts were so full of the great riches he\nshould possess, that he could not think of the necessary word to\nmake it open, but instead of Sesame, said \"Open, Barley,\" and was\nmuch amazed to find that the door remained fast shut. He named\nseveral sorts of grain, but still the door would not open.\n\nCassim had never expected such an incident, and was so alarmed at\nthe danger he was in, that the more he endeavoured to remember\nthe word Sesame, the more his memory was confounded, and he had\nas much forgotten it as if he had never heard it mentioned. He\nthrew down the bags he had loaded himself with, and walked\ndistractedly up and down the cave, without having the least\nregard to the riches that were round him.\n\nAbout noon the robbers chanced to visit their cave, and at some\ndistance from it saw Cassim's mules straggling about the rock,\nwith great chests on their backs. Alarmed at this novelty, they\ngalloped full speed to the cave. They drove away the mules, which\nCassim had neglected to fasten, and they strayed through the\nforest so far, that they were soon out of sight. The robbers\nnever gave themselves the trouble to pursue them, being more\nconcerned to know who they belonged to. And while some of them\nsearched about the rock, the captain and the rest went directly\nto the door, with their naked sabres in their hands, and\npronouncing the proper words, it opened.\n\nCassim, who heard the noise of the horses' feet from the middle\nof the cave, never doubted of the arrival of the robbers, and his\napproaching death; but was resolved to make one effort to escape\nfrom them. To this end he rushed to the door, and no sooner heard\nthe word Sesame, which he had forgotten, and saw the door open,\nthan he ran out and threw the leader down, but could not escape\nthe other robbers, who with their sabres soon deprived him of\nlife.\n\nThe first care of the robbers after this was to examine the cave.\nThey found all the bags which Cassim had brought to the door, to\nbe ready to load his mules, and carried them again to their\nplaces, without missing what Ali Baba had taken away before. Then\nholding a council, and deliberating upon this occurrence, they\nguessed that Cassim, when he was in, could not get out again; but\ncould not imagine how he had entered. It came into their heads\nthat he might have got down by the top of the cave; but the\naperture by which it received light was so high, and the rock so\ninaccessible without, besides that nothing shewed that he had\ndone so, that they gave up this conjecture. That he came in at\nthe door they could not believe however, unless he had the secret\nof making it open. In short, none of them could imagine which way\nhe had entered; for they were all persuaded nobody knew their\nsecret, little imagining that Ali Baba had watched them. It was a\nmatter of the greatest importance to them to secure their riches.\nThey agreed therefore to cut Cassim's body into four quarters, to\nhang two on one side and two on the other, within the door of the\ncave, to terrify any person who should attempt the same thing,\ndetermining not to return to the cave till the stench of the body\nwas completely exhaled. They had no sooner taken this resolution\nthan they put it in execution, and when they had nothing more to\ndetain them, left the place of their hoards well closed. They\nmounted their horses, went to beat the roads again, and to attack\nthe caravans they might meet.\n\nIn the mean time, Cassim's wife was very uneasy when night came,\nand her husband was not returned. She ran to Ali Baba in alarm,\nand said, \"I believe, brother-in-law, that you know Cassim, your\nbrother, is gone to the forest, and upon what account; it is now\nnight, and he is not returned; I am afraid some misfortune has\nhappened to him.\" Ali Baba, who had expected that his brother,\nafter what he had said, would go to the forest, had declined\ngoing himself that day, for fear of giving him any umbrage;\ntherefore told her, without any reflection upon her husband's\nunhandsome behaviour, that she need not frighten herself, for\nthat certainly Cassim would not think it proper to come into the\ntown till the night should be pretty far advanced.\n\nCassim's wife, considering how much it concerned her husband to\nkeep the business secret, was the more easily persuaded to\nbelieve her brother-in-law. She went home again, and waited\npatiently till midnight. Then her fear redoubled, and her grief\nwas the more sensible because she was forced to keep it to\nherself. She repented of her foolish curiosity, and cursed her\ndesire of penetrating into the affairs of her brother and sister-\nin-law. She spent all the night in weeping; and as soon as it was\nday, went to them, telling them, by her tears, the cause of her\ncoming.\n\nAli Baba did not wait for his sister-in-law to desire him to go\nto see what was become of Cassim, but departed immediately with\nhis three asses, begging of her first to moderate her affliction.\nHe went to the forest, and when he came near the rock, having\nseen neither his brother nor the mules in his way, was seriously\nalarmed at finding some blood spilt near the door, which he took\nfor an ill omen; but when he had pronounced the word, and the\ndoor had opened, he was struck with horror at the dismal sight of\nhis brother's quarters. He was not long in determining how he\nshould pay the last dues to his brother, but without adverting to\nthe little fraternal affection he had shown for him, went into\nthe cave, to find something to enshroud his remains, and having\nloaded one of his asses with them, covered them over with wood.\nThe other two asses he loaded with bags of gold, covering them\nwith wood also as before; and then bidding the door shut, came\naway; but was so cautious as to stop some time at the end of the\nforest, that he might not go into the town before night. When he\ncame home, he drove the two asses loaded with gold into his\nlittle yard, and left the care of unloading them to his wife,\nwhile he led the other to his sister-in-law's house.\n\nAli Baba knocked at the door, which was opened by Morgiana, an\nintelligent slave, fruitful in inventions to insure success in\nthe most difficult undertakings: and Ali Baba knew her to be\nsuch. When he came into the court, he unloaded the ass, and\ntaking Morgiana aside, said to her, \"The first thing I ask of you\nis an inviolable secrecy, which you will find is necessary both\nfor your mistress's sake and mine. Your master's body is\ncontained in these two bundles, and our business is, to bury him\nas if he had died a natural death. Go, tell your mistress I want\nto speak with her; and mind what I have said to you.\"\n\nMorgiana went to her mistress, and Ali Baba followed her. \"Well,\nbrother,\" said she, with great impatience, \"what news do you\nbring me of my husband? I perceive no comfort in your\ncountenance.\" \"Sister,\" answered Ali Baba, \"I cannot satisfy your\ninquiries unless you hear my story from the beginning to the end,\nwithout speaking a word; for it is of as great importance to you\nas to me to keep what has happened secret.\" \"Alas!\" said she,\n\"this preamble lets me know that my husband is not to be found;\nbut at the same time I know the necessity of the secrecy you\nrequire, and I must constrain myself: say on, I will hear you.\"\n\nAli Baba then detailed the incidents of his journey, till he came\nto the finding of Cassim's body. \"Now,\" said he, \"sister, I have\nsomething to relate which will afflict you the more, because it\nis perhaps what you so little expect; but it cannot now be\nremedied; if my endeavours can comfort you, I offer to put that\nwhich God hath sent me to what you have, and marry you: assuring\nyou that my wife will not be jealous, and that we shall live\nhappily together. If this proposal is agreeable to you, we mast\nthink of acting so as that my brother should appear to have died\na natural death. I think you may leave the management of the\nbusiness to Morgiana, and I will contribute all that lies in my\npower to your consolation.\"\n\nWhat could Cassim's widow do better than accept of this proposal?\nFor though her first husband had left behind him a plentiful\nsubstance, his brother was now much richer, and by the discovery\nof this treasure might be still more so. Instead, therefore, of\nrejecting the offer, she regarded it as the sure means of\ncomfort; and drying up her tears, which had begun to flow\nabundantly, and suppressing the outcries usual with women who\nhave lost their husbands, shewed Ali Baba that she approved of\nhis proposal. Ali Baba left the widow, recommended to Morgiana to\nact her part well, and then returned home with his ass.\n\nMorgiana went out at the same time to an apothecary, and asked\nfor a sort of lozenges, which he prepared, and were very\nefficacious in the most dangerous disorders. The apothecary\ninquired who was ill at her master's? She replied with a sigh,\n\"Her good master Cassim himself: that they knew not what his\ndisorder was, but that he could neither eat nor speak.\" After\nthese words, Morgiana carried the lozenges home with her, and the\nnext morning went to the same apothecary's again, and with tears\nin her eyes, asked for an essence which they used to give to sick\npeople only when at the last extremity. \"Alas!\" said she, taking\nit from the apothecary, \"I am afraid that this remedy will have\nno better effect than the lozenges; and that I shall lose my good\nmaster.\"\n\nOn the other hand, as Ali Baba and his wife were often seen to go\nbetween Cassim's and their own house all that day, and to seem\nmelancholy, nobody was surprised in the evening to hear the\nlamentable shrieks and cries of Cassim's wife and Morgiana, who\ngave out every where that her master was dead.\n\nThe next morning, soon after day appeared, Morgiana, who knew a\ncertain old cobbler that opened his stall early, before other\npeople, went to him, and bidding him good morrow, put a piece of\ngold into his hand. \"Well,\" said Baba Mustapha, which was his\nname, and who was a merry old fellow, looking at the gold, though\nit was hardly day-light, and seeing what it was, \"this is good\nhansel: what must I do for it? I am ready.\"\n\n\"Baba Mustapha,\" said Morgiana, \"you must take with you your\nsewing tackle, and go with me; but I must tell you, I shall\nblindfold you when you come to such a place.\"\n\nBaba Mustapha seemed to hesitate a little at these words. \"Oh!\noh!\" replied he, \"you would have me do something against my\nconscience, or against my honour?\" \"God forbid!\" said Morgiana,\nputting another piece of gold into his hand, \"that I should ask\nany thing that is contrary to your honour; only come along with\nme, and fear nothing.\"\n\nBaba Mustapha went with Morgiana, who, after she had bound his\neyes with a handkerchief at the place she had mentioned, conveyed\nhim to her deceased master's house, and never unloosed his eyes\ntill he had entered the room where she had put the corpse\ntogether. \"Baba Mustapha,\" said she, \"you must make haste and sew\nthese quarters together; and when you have done, I will give you\nanother piece of gold.\"\n\nAfter Baba Mustapha had finished his task, she blindfolded him\nagain, gave him the third piece of gold as she had promised, and\nrecommending secrecy to him, carried him back to the place where\nshe first bound his eyes, pulled off the bandage, and let him go\nhome, but watched him that he returned towards his stall, till he\nwas quite out of sight, for fear he should have the curiosity to\nreturn and dodge her; she then went home.\n\nBy the time Morgiana had warmed some water to wash the body, Ali\nBaba came with incense to embalm it, after which it was sewn up\nin a winding sheet. Not long after, the joiner, according to Ali\nBaba's orders, brought the bier, which Morgiana received at the\ndoor, and helped Ali Baba to put the body into it; when she went\nto the mosque to inform the imaum that they were ready. The\npeople of the mosque, whose business it was to wash the dead,\noffered to perform their duty, but she told them that it was done\nalready.\n\nMorgiana had scarcely got home before the imaum and the other\nministers of the mosque arrived. Four neighbours carried the\ncorpse on their shoulders to the burying-ground, following the\nimaum, who recited some prayers. Morgiana, as a slave to the\ndeceased, followed the corpse, weeping, beating her breast, and\ntearing her hair: and Ali Baba came after with some neighbours,\nwho often relieved the others in carrying the corpse to the\nburying-ground.\n\nCassim's wife stayed at home mourning, uttering lamentable cries\nwith the women of the neighbourhood, who came according to custom\nduring the funeral, and joining their lamentations with hers,\nfilled the quarter far and near with sorrow.\n\nIn this manner Cassim's melancholy death was concealed, and\nhushed up between Ali Baba, his wife, Cassim's widow, and\nMorgiana, with so much contrivance, that nobody in the city had\nthe least knowledge or suspicion of the cause of it.\n\nThree or four days after the funeral, Ali Baba removed his few\ngoods openly to the widow's house; but the money he had taken\nfrom the robbers he conveyed thither by night; soon after the\nmarriage with his sister-in-law was published, and as these\nmarriages are common, nobody was surprised.\n\nAs for Cassim's warehouse, Ali Baba gave it to his own eldest\nson, promising that if he managed it well, he would soon give him\na fortune to marry very advantageously according to his\nsituation.\n\nLet us now leave Ali Baba to enjoy the beginning of his good\nfortune, and return to the forty robbers.\n\nThey came again at the appointed time to visit their retreat in\nthe forest; but great was their surprise to find Cassim's body\ntaken away, with some of their bags of gold. \"We are certainly\ndiscovered,\" said the captain, \"and if we do not speedily apply\nsome remedy, shall gradually lose all the riches which our\nancestors and ourselves have, with so much pains and danger, been\nso many years amassing together. All that we can think of the\nloss which we have sustained is, that the thief whom we surprised\nhad the secret of opening the door, and we came luckily as he was\ncoming out: but his body being removed, and with it some of our\nmoney, plainly shews that he had an accomplice; and as it is\nlikely that there were but two who had discovered our secret, and\none has been caught, we must look narrowly after the other. What\nsay you, my lads?\"\n\nAll the robbers thought the captain's proposal so advisable, that\nthey unanimously approved of it, and agreed that they must lay\nall other enterprises aside, to follow this closely, and not give\nit up till they had succeeded.\n\n\"I expected no less,\" said the captain, \"from your fidelity to\nour cause: but, first of all, one of you who is bold, artful, and\nenterprising, must go into the town, disguised as a traveller and\na stranger, to try if he can hear any talk of the strange death\nof the man whom we have killed, as he deserved; and endeavour to\nfind out who he was, and where he lived. This is a matter of the\nfirst importance for us to ascertain, that we may do nothing\nwhich we may have reason to repent of, by discovering ourselves\nin a country where we have lived so long unknown, and where we\nhave so much reason to continue: but to warn him who shall take\nupon himself this commission, and to prevent our being deceived\nby his giving us a false report, which may be the cause of our\nruin; I ask you all, if you do not think that in case of\ntreachery, or even error of judgment, he should suffer death?\"\n\nWithout waiting for the suffrages of his companions, one of the\nrobbers started up, and said, \"I submit to this condition, and\nthink it an honour to expose my life, by taking the commission\nupon me; but remember, at least, if I do not succeed, that I\nneither wanted courage nor good will to serve the troop.\"\n\nAfter this robber had received great commendations from the\ncaptain and his comrades, he disguised himself so that nobody\nwould take him for what he was; and taking his leave of the troop\nthat night, went into the town just at day-break; and walked up\nand down, till accidentally he came to Baba Mustapha's stall,\nwhich was always open before any of the shops.\n\nBaba Mustapha was seated with an awl in his hand, just going to\nwork. The robber saluted him, bidding him good morrow; and\nperceiving that he was old, said, \"Honest man, you begin to work\nvery early: is it possible that one of your age can see so well?\nI question, even if it were somewhat lighter, whether you could\nsee to stitch.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" replied Baba Mustapha,\" you must be a stranger, and\ndo not know me; for old as I am, I have extraordinary good eyes;\nand you will not doubt it when I tell you that I sewed a dead\nbody together in a place where I had not so much light as I have\nnow.\"\n\nThe robber was overjoyed to think that he had addressed himself,\nat his first coming into the town, to a man who in all\nprobability could give him the intelligence he wanted. \"A dead\nbody!\" replied he with affected amazement, to make him explain\nhimself. \"What could you sew up a dead body for? You mean, you\nsewed up his winding sheet.\" \"No, no,\" answered Baba Mustapha, \"I\nperceive your meaning; you want to have me speak out, but you\nshall know no more.\"\n\nThe robber wanted no farther assurance to be persuaded that he\nhad discovered what he sought. He pulled out a piece of gold, and\nputting it into Baba Mustapha's hand, said to him, \"I do not want\nto learn your secret, though I can assure you I would not divulge\nit, if you trusted me with it. The only thing which I desire of\nyou is, to do me the favour to shew me the house where You\nstitched up the dead body.\"\n\n\"If I were disposed to do you that favour,\" replied Baba\nMustapha, holding the money in his hand, ready to return it, \"I\nassure you I cannot; and you may believe me, on my word. I was\ntaken to a certain place, where I was blinded, I was then led to\nthe house, and afterwards brought back again in the same manner;\nyou see, therefore, the impossibility of my doing what you\ndesire.\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied the robber, \"you may, however, remember a little\nof the way that you were led blindfolded. Come, let me blind your\neyes at the same place. We will walk together; perhaps you may\nrecognize some part; and as every body ought to be paid for their\ntrouble, there is another piece of gold for you; gratify me in\nwhat I ask you.\" So saying, he put another piece of gold into his\nhand.\n\nThe two pieces of gold were great temptations to Baba Mustapha.\nHe looked at them a long time in his hand, without saying a word,\nthinking with himself what he should do; but at last he pulled\nout his purse, and put them in. \"I cannot assure you,\" said he to\nthe robber, \"that I can remember the way exactly; but since you\ndesire, I will try what I can do.\" At these words Baba Mustapha\nrose up, to the great joy of the robber, and without shutting his\nshop, where he had nothing valuable to lose, he led the robber to\nthe place where Morgiana had bound his eyes. \"It was here,\" said\nBaba Mustapha, \"I was blindfolded; and I turned as you see me.\"\nThe robber, who had his handkerchief ready, tied it over his\neyes, walked by him till he stopped, partly leading, and partly\nguided by him. \"I think,\" said Baba Mustapha, \"I went no\nfarther,\" and he had now stopped directly at Cassim's house,\nwhere Ali Baba then lived. The thief, before he pulled off the\nband, marked the door with a piece of chalk, which he had ready\nin his hand; and then asked him if he knew whose house that was?\nto which Baba Mustapha replied, that as he did not live in that\nneighbourhood he could not tell.\n\nThe robber, finding he could discover no more from Baba Mustapha,\nthanked him for the trouble he had taken, and left him to go back\nto his stall, while he returned to the forest, persuaded that he\nshould be very well received.\n\nA little after the robber and Baba Mustapha had parted, Morgiana\nwent out of Ali Baba's house upon some errand, and upon her\nreturn, seeing the mark the robber had made, stopped to observe\nit. \"What can be the meaning of this mark?\" said she to herself;\n\"somebody intends my master no good: however, with whatever\nintention it was done, it is advisable to guard against the\nworst.\" Accordingly, she fetched a piece of chalk, and marked two\nor three doors on each side, in the same manner, without saying a\nword to her master or mistress.\n\nIn the mean time the thief rejoined his troop in the forest, and\nrecounted to them his success; expatiating upon his good fortune,\nin meeting so soon with the only person who could inform him of\nwhat he wanted to know. All the robbers listened to him with the\nutmost satisfaction; when the captain, after commending his\ndiligence, addressing himself to them all, said, \"Comrades, we\nhave no time to lose: let us set off well armed, without its\nappearing who we are; but that we may not excite any suspicion,\nlet only one or two go into the town together, and join at our\nrendezvous, which shall be the great square. In the mean time our\ncomrade, who brought us the good news, and I, will go and find\nout the house, that we may consult what had best be done.\"\n\nThis speech and plan were approved of by all, and they were soon\nready. They filed off in parties of two each, after some interval\nof time, and got into the town without being in the least\nsuspected. The captain and he who had visited the town in the\nmorning as spy, came in the last. He led the captain into the\nstreet where he had marked Ali Baba's residence; and when they\ncame to the first of the houses which Morgiana had marked, he\npointed it out. But the captain observed that the next door was\nchalked in the same manner, and in the same place; and shewing it\nto his guide, asked him which house it was, that, or the first?\nThe guide was so confounded, that he knew not what answer to\nmake; but still more puzzled, when he and the captain saw five or\nsix houses similarly marked. He assured the captain, with an\noath, that he had marked but one, And could not tell who had\nchalked the rest, so that he could not distinguish the house\nwhich the cobbler had stopped at.\n\nThe captain, finding that their design had proved abortive, went\ndirectly to the place of rendezvous, and told the first of his\ntroops whom he met that they had lost their labour, and must\nreturn to their cave. He himself set them the example, and they\nall returned as they had come.\n\nWhen the troop was all got together, the captain told them the\nreason of their returning; and presently the conductor was\ndeclared by all worthy of death. He condemned himself,\nacknowledging that he ought to have taken better precaution, and\nprepared to receive the stroke from him who was appointed to cut\noff his head.\n\nBut as the safety of the troop required that an injury should not\ngo unpunished, another of the gang, who promised himself that he\nshould succeed better, presented himself, and his offer being\naccepted, he went and corrupted Baba Mustapha, as the other had\ndone; and being shewn the house, marked it in a place more remote\nfrom sight, with red chalk.\n\nNot long after Morgiana, whose eyes nothing could escape, went\nout, and seeing the red chalk, and arguing with herself as she\nhad done before, marked the other neighbours' houses in the same\nplace and manner.\n\nThe robber, at his return to his company, valued himself much on\nthe precaution he had taken, which he looked upon as an\ninfallible way of distinguishing Ali Baba's house from the\nothers; and the captain and all of them thought it must succeed.\nThey conveyed themselves into the town with the same precaution\nas before; but when the robber and his captain came to the\nstreet, they found the same difficulty; at which the captain was\nenraged, and the robber in as great confusion as his predecessor.\n\nThus the captain and his troop were forced to retire a second\ntime, and much more dissatisfied; while the robber, who had been\nthe author of the mistake, underwent the same punishment; which\nhe willingly submitted to.\n\nThe captain, having lost two brave fellows of his troop, was\nafraid of diminishing it too much by pursuing this plan to get\ninformation of the residence of their plunderer. He found by\ntheir example that their heads were not so good as their hands on\nsuch occasions; and therefore resolved to take upon himself the\nimportant commission.\n\nAccordingly he went and addressed himself to Baba Mustapha, who\ndid him the same service he had done to the other robbers. He did\nnot set any particular mark on the house, but examined and\nobserved it so carefully, by passing often by it, that it was\nimpossible for him to mistake it.\n\nThe captain, well satisfied with his attempt, and informed of\nwhat he wanted to know, returned to the forest; and when he came\ninto the cave, where the troop waited for him, said, \"Now,\ncomrades, nothing can prevent our full revenge, as I am certain\nof the house, and in my way hither I have thought how to put it\ninto execution, but if any one can form a better expedient, let\nhim communicate it.\" He then told them his contrivance; and as\nthey approved of it, ordered them to go into the villages about,\nand buy nineteen mules, with thirty-eight large leather jars, one\nfull of oil, and the others empty.\n\nIn two or three days' time the robbers had purchased the mules\nand jars, and as the mouths of the jars were rather too narrow\nfor his purpose, the captain caused them to be widened; and after\nhaving put one of his men into each, with the weapons which he\nthought fit, leaving open the seam which had been undone to leave\nthem room to breathe, he rubbed the jars on the outside with oil\nfrom the full vessel.\n\nThings being thus prepared, when the nineteen mules were loaded\nwith thirty-seven robbers in jars, and the jar of oil, the\ncaptain, as their driver, set out with them, and reached the town\nby the dusk of the evening, as he had intended. He led them\nthrough the streets till he came to Ali Baba's, at whose door he\ndesigned to have knocked; but was prevented by his sitting there\nafter supper to take a little fresh air. He stopped his mules,\naddressed himself to him, and said, \"I have brought some oil a\ngreat way, to sell at to-morrow's market; and it is now so late\nthat I do not know where to lodge. If I should not be troublesome\nto you, do me the favour to let me pass the night with you, and I\nshall be very much obliged by your hospitality.\"\n\nThough Ali Baba had seen the captain of the robbers in the\nforest, and had heard him speak, it was impossible to know him in\nthe disguise of an oil-merchant. He told him he should be\nwelcome, and immediately opened his gates for the mules to go\ninto the yard. At the same time he called to a slave, and ordered\nhim, when the mules were unloaded, not only to put them into the\nstable, but to give them fodder; and then went to Morgiana, to\nbid her get a good supper for his guest.\n\nHe did more. To make his guest as welcome as possible, when he\nsaw the captain had unloaded his mules, and that they were put\ninto the stables as he had ordered, and he was looking for a\nplace to pass the night in the air, he brought him into the hall\nwhere he received his company, telling him he would not suffer\nhim to be in the court. The captain excused himself on pretence\nof not being troublesome; but really to have room to execute his\ndesign, and it was not till after the most pressing importunity\nthat he yielded. Ali Baba, not content to keep company with the\nman who had a design on his life till supper was ready, continued\ntalking with him till it was ended, and repeating his offer of\nservice.\n\nThe captain rose up at the same time with his host; and while Ali\nBaba went to speak to Morgiana he withdrew into the yard, under\npretence of looking at his mules. Ali Baba, after charging\nMorgiana afresh to take care of his guest, said to her, \"To-\nmorrow morning I design to go to the bath before day; take care\nmy bathing-linen be ready, give them to Abdoollah,\" which was the\nslave's name, \"and make me some good broth against I return.\"\nAfter this he went to bed.\n\nIn the mean time the captain of the robbers went from the stable\nto give his people orders what to do; and beginning at the first\njar, and so on to the last, said to each man: \"As soon as I throw\nsome stones out of the chamber window where I lie, do not fail to\ncut the jar open with the knife you have about you for the\npurpose, and come out, and I will immediately join you.\" After\nthis he returned into the house, when Morgiana taking up a light,\nconducted him to his chamber, where she left him; and he, to\navoid any suspicion, put the light out soon after, and laid\nhimself down in his clothes, that he might be the more ready to\nrise.\n\nMorgiana, remembering Ali Baba's orders, got his bathing-linen\nready, and ordered Abdoollah to set on the pot for the broth; but\nwhile she was preparing it, the lamp went out, and there was no\nmore oil in the house, nor any candles. What to do she did not\nknow, for the broth must be made. Abdoollah seeing her very\nuneasy, said, \"Do not fret and teaze yourself, but go into the\nyard, and take some oil out of one of the jars.\"\n\nMorgiana thanked Abdoollah for his advice, took the oil-pot, and\nwent into the yard; when as she came nigh the first jar, the\nrobber within said softly, \"Is it time?\"\n\nThough the robber spoke low, Morgiana was struck with the voice\nthe more, because the captain, when he unloaded the mules, had\ntaken the lids off this and all the other jars to give air to his\nmen, who were ill enough at their ease, almost wanting room to\nbreathe.\n\nAs much surprised as Morgiana naturally was at finding a man in a\njar instead of the oil she wanted, many would have made such a\nnoise as to have given an alarm, which would have been attended\nwith fatal consequences; whereas Morgiana comprehending\nimmediately the importance of keeping silence, from the danger\nAli Baba, his family, and herself were in, and the necessity of\napplying a speedy remedy without noise, conceived at once the\nmeans, and collecting herself without shewing the least emotions,\nanswered, \"Not yet, but presently.\" She went in this manner to\nall the jars, giving the same answer, till she came to the jar of\noil.\n\nBy this means, Morgiana found that her master Ali Baba, who\nthought that he had entertained an oil merchant, had admitted\nthirty-eight robbers into his house, regarding this pretended\nmerchant as their captain. She made what haste she could to fill\nher oil-pot, and returned into her kitchen; where, as soon as she\nhad lighted her lamp, she took a great kettle, went again to the\noil-jar, filled the kettle, set it on a large wood-fire, and as\nsoon as it boiled went and poured enough into every jar to stifle\nand destroy the robber within.\n\nWhen this action, worthy of the courage of Morgiana, was executed\nwithout any noise, as she had projected, she returned into the\nkitchen with the empty kettle; and having put out the great fire\nshe had made to boil the oil, and leaving just enough to make the\nbroth, put out the lamp also, and remained silent; resolving not\nto go to rest till she had observed what might follow through a\nwindow of the kitchen, which opened into the yard.\n\nShe had not waited long before the captain of the robbers got up,\nopened the window, and finding no light, and hearing no noise, or\nany one stirring in the house, gave the appointed signal, by\nthrowing little stones, several of which hit the jars, as he\ndoubted not by the sound they gave. He then listened, but not\nhearing or perceiving any thing, whereby he could judge that his\ncompanions stirred, he began to grow very uneasy, threw stones\nagain a second and also a third time, and could not comprehend\nthe reason that none of them should answer his signal. Much\nalarmed, he went softly down into the yard, and going to the\nfirst jar, whilst asking the robber whom he thought alive if he\nwas in readiness, smelt the hot boiled oil, which sent forth a\nsteam out of the jar. Hence he suspected that his plot to murder\nAli Baba and plunder his house was discovered. Examining all the\njars one after another, he found that all his gang were dead; and\nby the oil he missed out of the last jar guessed the means and\nmanner of their death. Enraged to despair at having failed in his\ndesign, he forced the lock of a door that led from the yard to\nthe garden, and climbing over the walls, made his escape.\n\nWhen Morgiana heard no noise, and found, after waiting some time,\nthat the captain did not return, she concluded that he had chosen\nrather to make his escape by the garden than the street-door,\nwhich was double locked. Satisfied and pleased to have succeeded\nso well, in saving her master and family, she went to bed.\n\nAli Baba rose before day, and, followed by his slave, went to the\nbaths, entirely ignorant of the important event which had\nhappened at home; for Morgiana had not thought it safe to wake\nhim before, for fear of losing her opportunity; and after her\nsuccessful exploit she thought it needless to disturb him.\n\nWhen he returned from the baths, the sun was risen; he was very\nmuch surprised to see the oil-jars, and that the merchant was not\ngone with the mules. He asked Morgiana, who opened the door, and\nhad let all things stand as they were, that he might see them,\nthe reason of it? \"My good master,\" answered she, \"God preserve\nyou and all your family; you will be better informed of what you\nwish to know when you have seen what I have to shew you, if you\nwill but give yourself the trouble to follow me.\"\n\nAs soon as Morgiana had shut the door, Ali Baba followed her;\nwhen she requested him to look into the first jar and see if\nthere was any oil. Ali Baba did so, and seeing a man, started\nback in alarm, and cried out. \"Do not be afraid,\" said Morgiana,\n\"the man you see there can neither do you nor any body else any\nharm. He is dead.\" \"Ah, Morgiana!\" said Ali Baba, \"what is it you\nshew me? Explain yourself.\" \"I will,\" replied Morgiana; \"moderate\nyour astonishment, and do not excite the curiosity of your\nneighbours; for it is of great importance to keep this affair\nsecret. Look into all the other jars.\"\n\nAli Baba examined all the other jars, one after another: and when\nhe came to that which had the oil in, found it prodigiously sunk,\nand stood for some time motionless, sometimes looking at the\njars, and sometimes at Morgiana, without saying a word, so great\nwas his surprise: at last, when he had recovered himself, he\nsaid, \"And what is become of the merchant?\"\n\n\"Merchant!\" answered she, \"he is as much one as I am; I will tell\nyou who he is, and what is become of him; but you had better hear\nthe story in your own chamber; for it is time for your health\nthat you had your broth after your bathing.\"\n\nWhile Ali Baba retired to his chamber, Morgiana went into the\nkitchen to fetch the broth, but before he would drink it, he\nfirst entreated her to satisfy his impatience, and tell him what\nhad happened, with all the circumstances; and she obeyed him.\n\n\"Last night, sir,\" said she, \"when you were gone to bed, I got\nyour bathing- linens ready, and gave them to Abdoollah;\nafterwards I set on the pot for the broth, but as I was preparing\nthe materials, the lamp, for want of oil, went out; and as there\nwas not a drop more in the house, I looked for a candle, but\ncould not find one: Abdoollah seeing me vexed, put me in mind of\nthe jars of oil which stood in the yard. I took the oil-pot, went\ndirectly to the jar which stood nearest to me; and when I came to\nit, heard a voice within, saying, \u0091Is it time?' Without being\ndismayed, and comprehending immediately the malicious intention\nof the pretended oil-merchant, I answered, \u0091Not yet, but\npresently.' I then went to the next, when another voice asked me\nthe same question, and I returned the same answer; and so on,\ntill I came to the last, which I found full of oil; with which I\nfilled my pot.\n\n\"When I considered that there were thirty seven robbers in the\nyard, who only waited for a signal to be given by the captain,\nwhom you took to be an oil-merchant, and entertained so\nhandsomely, I thought there was no time to be lost; I carried my\npot of oil into the kitchen, lighted the lamp, afterwards took\nthe biggest kettle I had, went and filled it full of oil, set it\non the fire to boil, and then poured as much into each jar as was\nsufficient to prevent them from executing the pernicious design\nthey had meditated: after this I retired into the kitchen, and\nput out the lamp; but before I went to bed, waited at the window\nto know what measures the pretended merchant would take.\n\n\"After I had watched some time for the signal, he threw some\nstones out of the window against the jars, but neither hearing\nnor perceiving any body stirring, after throwing three times, he\ncame down, when I saw him go to every jar, after which, through\nthe darkness of the night, I lost sight of him. I waited some\ntime longer, and finding that he did not return, doubted not but\nthat, seeing he had missed his aim, he had made his escape over\nthe walls of the garden. Persuaded that the house was now safe, I\nwent to bed.\n\n\"This,\" said Morgiana, \"is the account you asked of me; and I am\nconvinced it is the consequence of what I observed some days ago,\nbut did not think fit to acquaint you with: for when I came in\none morning early, I found our street door marked with white\nchalk, and the next morning with red; upon which, both times,\nwithout knowing what was the intention of those chalks, I marked\ntwo or three neighbours' doors on each side in the same manner.\nIf you reflect on this, and what has since happened, you will\nfind it to be a plot of the robbers of the forest, of whose gang\nthere are two wanting, and now they are reduced to three: all\nthis shews that they had sworn your destruction, and it is proper\nyou should be upon your guard, while there is one of them alive:\nfor my part I shall neglect nothing necessary to your\npreservation, as I am in duty bound.\"\n\nWhen Morgiana had left off speaking, Ali Baba was so sensible of\nthe great service she had done him, that he said to her, \"I will\nnot die without rewarding you as you deserve: I owe my life to\nyou, and for the first token of my acknowledgment, give you your\nliberty from this moment, till I can complete your recompense as\nI intend. I am persuaded with you, that the forty robbers have\nlaid snares for my destruction. God, by your means, has delivered\nme from them as yet, and I hope will continue to preserve me from\ntheir wicked designs, and by averting the danger which threatened\nme, will deliver the world from their persecution and their\ncursed race. All that we have to do is to bury the bodies of\nthese pests of mankind immediately, and with all the secrecy\nimaginable, that nobody may suspect what is become of them. But\nthat labour Abdoollah and I will undertake.\"\n\nAli Baba's garden was very long, and shaded at the farther end by\na great number of large trees. Under these he and the slave dug a\ntrench, long and wide enough to hold all the robbers, and as the\nearth was light, they were not long in doing it. Afterwards they\nlifted the bodies out of the jars, took away their weapons,\ncarried them to the end of the garden, laid them in the trench,\nand levelled the ground again. When this was done, Ali Baba hid\nthe jars and weapons; and as he had no occasion for the mules, he\nsent them at different times to be sold in the market by his\nslave.\n\nWhile Ali Baba took these measures to prevent the public from\nknowing how he came by his riches in so short a time, the captain\nof the forty robbers returned to the forest with inconceivable\nmortification; and in his agitation, or rather confusion, at his\nill success, so contrary to what he had promised himself, entered\nthe cave, not being able, all the way from the town, to come to\nany resolution how to revenge himself of Ali Baba.\n\nThe loneliness of the gloomy cavern became frightful to him.\n\"Where are you, my brave lads,\" cried he, \"old companions of my\nwatchings, inroads, and labour? What can I do without you? Did I\ncollect you only to lose you by so base a fate, and so unworthy\nof your courage! Had you died with your sabres in your hands,\nlike brave men, my regret had been less! When shall I enlist so\ngallant a troop again? And if I could, can I undertake it without\nexposing so much gold and treasure to him who hath already\nenriched himself out of it? I cannot, I ought not to think of it,\nbefore I have taken away his life. I will undertake that alone\nwhich I could not accomplish with your powerful assistance; and\nwhen I have taken measures to secure this treasure from being\npillaged, I will provide for it new masters and successors after\nme, who shall preserve and augment it to all posterity.\" This\nresolution being taken, he was not at a loss how to execute his\npurpose; but easy in his mind, and full of hopes, slept all that\nnight very quietly.\n\nWhen he awoke early next morning, he dressed himself, agreeably\nto the project he had formed, went to the town, and took a\nlodging in a khan. As he expected what had happened at Ali Baba's\nmight make a great noise, he asked his host what news there was\nin the city? Upon which the inn-keeper told him a great many\ncircumstances, which did not concern him in the least. He judged\nby this, that the reason why Ali Baba kept his affairs so secret,\nwas for fear people should know where the treasure lay; and\nbecause he knew his life would be sought on account of it. This\nurged him the more to neglect nothing to rid himself of so\ncautious an enemy.\n\nThe captain now assumed the character of a merchant, and conveyed\ngradually a great many sorts of rich stuffs and fine linen to his\nlodging from the cavern, but with all the necessary precautions\nimaginable to conceal the place whence he brought them. In order\nto dispose of the merchandizes, when he had amassed them\ntogether, he took a warehouse, which happened to be opposite to\nCassim's, which Ali Baba's son had occupied since the death of\nhis uncle.\n\nHe took the name of Khaujeh Houssain, and as a new-comer, was,\naccording to custom, extremely civil and complaisant to all the\nmerchants his neighbours. Ali Baba's son was from his vicinity\none of the first to converse with Khaujeh Houssain, who strove to\ncultivate his friendship more particularly, when, two or three\ndays after he was settled, he recognized Ali Baba, who came to\nsee his son, and stopped to talk with him as he was accustomed to\ndo. When he was gone, the impostor learnt from his son who he\nwas. He increased his assiduities, caressed him in the most\nengaging manner, made him some small presents, and often asked\nhim to dine and sup with him; when he treated him very\nhandsomely.\n\nAli Baba's son did not choose to lie under such obligation to\nKhaujeh Houssain, without making the like return; but was so much\nstraitened for want of room in his house, that he could not\nentertain him so well as he wished; he therefore acquainted his\nfather Ali Baba with his intention, and told him that it did not\nlook well for him to receive such favours from Khaujeh Houssain,\nwithout inviting him in return.\n\nAli Baba, with great pleasure, took the treat upon himself.\n\"Son,\" said he, \"to-morrow being Friday, which is a day that the\nshops of such great merchants as Khaujeh Houssain and yourself\nare shut, get him to take a walk with you, and as you come back,\npass by my door, and call in. It will look better to have it\nhappen accidentally, than if you gave him a formal invitation. I\nwill go and order Morgiana to provide a supper.\"\n\nThe next day Ali Baba's son and Khaujeh Houssain met by\nappointment, took their walk, and as they returned, Ali Baba's\nson led Khaujeh Houssain through the street where his father\nlived; and when they came to the house, stopped and knocked at\nthe door. \"This, sir,\" said he, \"is my father's house; who, from\nthe account I have given him of your friendship, charged me to\nprocure him the honour of your acquaintance; and I desire you to\nadd this pleasure to those for which I am already indebted to\nyou.\"\n\nThough it was the sole aim of Khaujeh Houssain to introduce\nhimself into Ali Baba's house, that he might kill him without\nhazarding his own life or making any noise; yet he excused\nhimself, and offered to take his leave. But a slave having opened\nthe door, Ali Baba's son took him obligingly by the hand, and in\na manner forced him in.\n\nAli Baba received Khaujeh Houssain with a smiling countenance,\nand in the most obliging manner he could wish. He thanked him for\nall the favours he had done his son; adding withal, the\nobligation was the greater, as he was a young man not much\nacquainted with the world, and that he might contribute to his\ninformation.\n\nKhaujeh Houssain returned the compliment, by assuring Ali Baba,\nthat though his son might not have acquired the experience of\nolder men, he had good sense equal to the experience of many\nothers. After a little more conversation on different subjects,\nhe offered again to take his leave; when Ali Baba, stopping him,\nsaid, \"Where are you going, sir, in so much haste? I beg you\nwould do me the honour to sup with me, though what I have to give\nyou is not worth your acceptance; but such as it is, I hope you\nwill accept it as heartily as I give it.\" \"Sir,\" replied Khaujeh\nHoussain, \"I am thoroughly persuaded of your good-will; and if I\nask the favour of you not to take it ill that I do not accept\nyour obliging invitation, I beg of you to believe that it does\nnot proceed from any slight or intention to affront, but from a\nreason which you would approve if you knew it.\"\n\n\"And what may that reason be, sir,\" replied Ali Baba, \"if I may\nbe so bold as to ask you?\" \"It is,\" answered Khaujeh Houssain,\n\"that I can eat no victuals that have any salt in them; therefore\njudge how I should feel at your table.\" \"If that is the only\nreason,\" said Ali Baba, \"it ought not to deprive me of the honour\nof your company at supper; for, in the first place, there is no\nsalt ever put into my bread, and as to the meat we shall have to-\nnight, I promise you there shall be none in that. Therefore you\nmust do me the favour to stay. I will return immediately.\"\n\nAli Baba went into the kitchen, and ordered Morgiana to put no\nsalt to the meat that was to be dressed that night; and to make\nquickly two or three ragouts besides what he had ordered, but be\nsure to put no salt in them.\n\nMorgiana, who was always ready to obey her master, could not\nhelp, this time, seeming somewhat dissatisfied at his strange\norder. \"Who is this difficult man,\" said she, \"who eats no salt\nwith his meat? Your supper will be spoiled, if I keep it back so\nlong.\" \"Do not be angry, Morgiana,\" replied Ali Baba: \"he is an\nhonest man; therefore do as I bid you.\"\n\nMorgiana obeyed, though with no little reluctance, and had a\ncuriosity to see this man who ate no salt. To this end, when she\nhad finished what she had to do in the kitchen, she helped\nAbdoollah to carry up the dishes; and looking at Khaujeh\nHoussain, knew him at first sight, notwithstanding his disguise,\nto be the captain of the robbers, and examining him very\ncarefully, perceived that he had a dagger under his garment. \"I\nam not in the least amazed,\" said she to herself, \"that this\nwicked wretch, who is my master's greatest enemy, would eat no\nsalt with him, since he intends to assassinate him; but I will\nprevent him\".\n\nMorgiana, while they were eating, made the necessary preparations\nfor executing one of the boldest acts ever meditated, and had\njust determined, when Abdoollah came for the dessert of fruit,\nwhich she carried up, and as soon as Abdoollah had taken the meat\naway, set it upon the table; after that, she placed three glasses\nby Ali Baba, and going out, took Abdoollah with her to sup, and\nto give Ali Baba the more liberty of conversation with his guest.\n\nKhaujeh Houssain, or rather the captain of the robbers, thought\nhe had now a favourable opportunity of being revenged on Ali\nBaba. \"I will,\" said he to himself, \"make the father and son both\ndrunk: the son, whose life I intend to spare, will not be able to\nprevent my stabbing his father to the heart; and while the slaves\nare at supper, or asleep in the kitchen, I can make my escape\nover the gardens as before.\"\n\nInstead of going to supper, Morgiana, who had penetrated the\nintentions of the counterfeit Khaujeh Houssain, would not give\nhim time to put his villanous design into execution, but dressed\nherself neatly with a suitable head-dress like a dancer, girded\nher waist with a silver-gilt girdle, to which there hung a\nponiard with a hilt and guard of the same metal, and put a\nhandsome mask on her face. When she had thus disguised herself,\nshe said to Abdoollah, \"Take your tabor, and let us go and divert\nour master and his son's guest, as we do sometimes when he is\nalone.\"\n\nAbdoollah took his tabor and played all the way into the hall\nbefore Morgiana, who, when she came to the door, made a low\nobeisance, with a deliberate air, in order to draw attention, and\nby way of asking leave to exhibit her skill. Abdoollah, seeing\nthat his master had a mind to say something, left off playing.\n\"Come in, Morgiana,\" said Ali Baba, \"and let Khaujeh Houssain see\nwhat you can do, that he may tell us what he thinks of you.\"\n\"But, sir,\" said he, turning towards his guest, \"do not think\nthat I put myself to any expense to give you this diversion,\nsince these are my slave and my cook and housekeeper; and I hope\nyou will not find the entertainment they give us disagreeable.\"\n\nKhaujeh Houssain, who did not expect this diversion after supper,\nbegan to fear he should not be able to improve the opportunity he\nthought he had found; but hoped, if he now missed his aim, to\nsecure it another time, by keeping up a friendly correspondence\nwith the father and son; therefore, though he could have wished\nAli Baba would have declined the dance, he pretended to be\nobliged to him for it, and had the complaisance to express his\nsatisfaction at what he saw pleased his host.\n\nAs soon as Abdoollah saw that Ali Baba and Khaujeh Houssain had\ndone talking, he began to play on the tabor, and accompanied it\nwith an air; to which Morgiana, who was an excellent performer,\ndanced in such a manner as would have created admiration in any\nother company besides that before which she now exhibited, among\nwhom, perhaps, none but the false Khaujeh Houssain was in the\nleast attentive to her, the rest having seen her so frequently.\n\nAfter she had danced several dances with equal propriety and\ngrace, she drew the poniard, and holding it in her hand, began a\ndance, in which she outdid herself, by the many different\nfigures, light movements, and the surprising leaps and wonderful\nexertions with which she accompanied it. Sometimes she presented\nthe poniard to one's breast, sometimes to another's, and\noftentimes seeming to strike her own. At last, as if she was out\nof breath, she snatched the tabor from Abdoollah with her left\nhand, and holding the dagger in her right, presented the other\nside of the tabor, after the manner of those who get a livelihood\nby dancing, and solicit the liberality of the spectators.\n\nAli Baba put a piece of gold into the tabor, as did also his son;\nand Khaujeh Houssain seeing that she was coming to him, had\npulled his purse out of his bosom to make her a present; but\nwhile he was putting his hand into it, Morgiana, with a courage\nand resolution worthy of herself, plunged the poniard into his\nheart.\n\nAli Baba and his son, shocked at this action, cried out aloud.\n\"Unhappy wretch!\" exclaimed Ali Baba, \"what have you done to ruin\nme and my family?\" \"It was to preserve, not to ruin you,\"\nanswered Morgiana; \"for see here,\" continued she (opening the\npretended Khaujeh Houssain's garment, and shewing the dagger),\n\"what an enemy you had entertained! Look well at him, and you\nwill find him to be both the fictitious oil-merchant, and the\ncaptain of the gang of forty robbers. Remember, too, that he\nwould eat no salt with you; and what would you have more to\npersuade you of his wicked design? Before I saw him I suspected\nhim as soon as you told me you had such a guest. I knew him, and\nyou now find that my suspicion was not groundless.\"\n\nAli Baba, who immediately felt the new obligation he had to\nMorgiana for saving his life a second time, embraced her:\n\"Morgiana,\" said he, \"I gave you your liberty, and then promised\nyou that my gratitude should not stop there, but that I would\nsoon give you higher proofs of its sincerity, which I now do by\nmaking you my daughter-in-law.\" Then addressing himself to his\nson, he said, \"I believe you, son, to be so dutiful a child, that\nyou will not refuse Morgiana for your wife. You see that Khaujeh\nHoussain sought your friendship with a treacherous design to take\naway my life; and, if he had succeeded, there is no doubt but he\nwould have sacrificed you also to his revenge. Consider, that by\nmarrying Morgiana you marry the preserver of my family and your\nown.\"\n\nThe son, far from shewing any dislike, readily consented to the\nmarriage; not only because he would not disobey his father, but\nalso because it was agreeable to his inclination.\n\nAfter this, they thought of burying the captain of the robbers\nwith his comrades, and did it so privately that nobody discovered\ntheir bones till many years after, when no one had any concern in\nthe publication of this remarkable history.\n\nA few days afterwards, Ali Baba celebrated the nuptials of his\nson and Morgiana with great solemnity, a sumptuous feast, and the\nusual dancing and spectacles; and had the satisfaction to see\nthat his friends and neighbours, whom he invited, had no\nknowledge of the true motives of the marriage; but that those who\nwere not unacquainted with Morgiana's good qualities commended\nhis generosity and goodness of heart.\n\nAli Baba forbore, after this marriage, from going again to the\nrobbers' cave, as he had done from the time he had brought away\nhis brother Cassim's mangled remains, for fear of being\nsurprised. He kept away after the death of the thirty-seven\nrobbers and their captain, supposing the other two, whom he could\nget no account of, might be alive.\n\nAt the year's end, when he found they had not made any attempt to\ndisturb him, he had the curiosity to make another journey, taking\nthe necessary precautions for his safety. He mounted his horse,\nand when he came to the cave, and saw no footsteps of men or\nhorses, looked upon it as a good sign. He alighted, tied his\nhorse to a tree, then approaching the entrance, and pronouncing\nthe words, Open, Sesame, the door opened. He entered the cavern,\nand by the condition he found things in, judged that nobody had\nbeen there since the false Khaujeh Houssain, when he had fetched\nthe goods for his shop, that the gang of forty robbers was\ncompletely destroyed, and no longer doubted that he was the only\nperson in the world who had the secret of opening the cave, so\nthat all the treasure was at his sole disposal. Having brought\nwith him a wallet, he put into it as much gold as his horse would\ncarry, and returned to town.\n\nAfterwards Ali Baba carried his son to the cave, taught him the\nsecret, which they handed down to their posterity, who, using\ntheir good fortune with moderation, lived in great honour and\nsplendour.\n\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF ALI KHAUJEH, A  MERCHANT OF\n                            BAGDAD.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, there lived at\nBagdad a merchant whose name was Ali Khaujeh, who was neither one\nof the richest nor poorest of his line. He was a bachelor, and\nlived in the house which had been his father's, independent and\ncontent with the profit he made by his trade. But happening to\ndream for three successive nights that a venerable old man came\nto him, and, with a severe look, reprimanded him for not having\nmade a pilgrimage to Mecca, he was much troubled.\n\nAs a good Mussulmaun, he knew he was obliged to undertake a\npilgrimage; but as he had a house, shop, and goods, he had always\nbelieved that they might stand for a sufficient reason to excuse\nhim, endeavouring by his charity, and other good works, to atone\nfor that neglect. After this dream, however, his conscience was\nso much pricked, that the fear lest any misfortune should befall\nhim made him resolve not to defer it any longer; and to be able\nto go that year, he sold off his household goods, his shop, and\nwith it the greatest part of his merchandize, reserving only some\narticles, which he thought might turn to a better account at\nMecca; and meeting with a tenant for his house, let that also.\n\nHis affairs being thus disposed, he was ready to depart when the\nBagdad caravan set out for Mecca: the only thing he had to do was\nto lodge in some place of security a sum of a thousand pieces of\ngold, which would have been troublesome to carry with him, with\nthe money he had set apart to defray his expenses on the road,\nand for other purposes. To this end, he made choice of a jar of a\nsuitable size, put the thousand pieces of gold into it, and\ncovered them over with olives. When he had closed the mouth of\nthe jar, he carried it to a merchant, a particular friend of his,\nand said to him, \"You know, brother, that in a few days I mean to\ndepart with the caravan, on my pilgrimage to Mecca. I beg the\nfavour of you to take charge of a jar of olives, and keep it for\nme till I return.\" The merchant promised him he would, and in an\nobliging manner said, \"Here, take the key of my warehouse, and\nset your jar where you please. I promise you shall find it there\nwhen you return.\"\n\nOn the day the caravan was to set out Ali Khaujeh joined it, with\na camel loaded with what goods he had thought fit to carry, which\nalso served him to ride on. He arrived safe at Mecca, where he\nvisited, with other pilgrims, the temple so much celebrated and\nfrequented by the faithful of all nations every year, who came\nfrom all parts of the world, and observed religiously the\nceremonies prescribed them. When he had acquitted himself of the\nduties of his pilgrimage, he exposed the merchandize he had\nbrought with him for sale or barter, as might be most profitable.\n\nTwo merchants passing by, and seeing Ali Khaujeh's goods, thought\nthem so choice, that they stopped some time to look at, though\nthey had no occasion for them; and when they had satisfied their\ncuriosity, one of them said to the other, as they were going\naway, \"If this merchant knew to what profit these goods would\nturn at Cairo he would carry them thither, and not sell them\nhere, though this is a good mart.\"\n\n\nAli Khaujeh heard these words; and as he had often heard talk of\nthe beauties of Egypt, he was resolved to take the opportunity of\nseeing them, by performing a journey thither. Therefore, after\nhaving packed up his goods again, instead of returning to Bagdad,\nhe set out for Egypt, with the caravan of Cairo. When he came\nthither, he found his account in his journey, and in a few days\nsold all his goods to a greater advantage than he had hoped for.\nWith the money he bought others, with an intent to go to\nDamascus: and while he waited for the opportunity of a caravan,\nwhich was to depart in six weeks, visited all the curiosities of\nCairo, as also the pyramids, and sailing up the Nile, viewed the\nfamous towns on each side of that river.\n\nAs the Damascus caravan took Jerusalem in their way, our Bagdad\nmerchant had the opportunity of visiting the temple, regarded by\nthe Mussulmauns to be the most holy, after that of Mecca, whence\nthis city takes its name of Biel al Mukkuddus, or most sacred\nmansion.\n\nAli Khaujeh found Damascus so delicious a place, being environed\nby verdant meadows, pleasantly watered, and delightful gardens,\nthat it exceeded the descriptions given of it in the journals of\ntravellers. Here he made a long abode, but, nevertheless, did not\nforget his native Bagdad: for which place he at length set out,\nand arrived at Aleppo, where he made some stay; and from thence,\nafter having passed the Euphrates, he bent his course to\nMoussoul, with an intention, in his return, to come by a shorter\nway down the Tigris.\n\nWhen Ali Khaujeh came to Moussoul, some Persian merchants, with\nwhom he had travelled from Aleppo, and with whom he had\ncontracted a great friendship, had obtained so great an influence\nover him by their civilities and agreeable conversation, that\nthey easily persuaded him not to leave them till he should have\nvisited Sheerauz, from whence he might easily return to Bagdad\nwith a considerable profit. They led him through the towns of\nSultania, Rei, Coam, Caschan, Ispahan, and from thence to\nSheerauz; from whence he had the complaisance to bear them\ncompany to Hindoostan, and then returned with them again to\nSheerauz; insomuch, that including the stay made in every town,\nhe was seven years absent from Bagdad, whither he then resolved\nto return.\n\nAll this time his friend, with whom he had left his jar of\nolives, neither thought of him nor them; but at the time when he\nwas on the road with a caravan from Sheerauz, one evening as this\nmerchant was supping with his family, the discourse happened to\nfall upon olives, and his wife was desirous to eat some, saying,\nshe had not tasted any for a long while. \"Now you speak of\nolives,\" said the merchant, \"you put me in mind of a jar which\nAli Khaujeh left with me seven years ago, when he went to Mecca;\nand put it himself in my warehouse to be kept for him against he\nreturned. What is become of him I know not; though, when the\ncaravan came back, they told me he was gone for Egypt. Certainly\nhe must be dead, since he has not returned in all this time; and\nwe may eat the olives, if they prove good. Give me a plate and a\ncandle, I will go and fetch some of them, and we will taste\nthem.\"\n\n\"For God's sake, husband,\" said the wife, \"do not commit so base\nan action; you know that nothing is more sacred than what is\ncommitted to one's care and trust. You say Ali Khaujeh has left\nMecca, and is not returned; but you have been told that he is\ngone into Egypt; and how do you know but that he may be gone\nfarther? As you have no intelligence of his death, he may return\nto-morrow for any thing you can tell: and what a disgrace would\nit be to you and your family if he should come, and you not\nrestore him his jar in the same condition he left it? I declare I\nhave no desire for the olives, and will not taste them, for when\nI mentioned them it was only by way of conversation; besides, do\nyou think that they can be good, after they have been kept so\nlong? They most be all mouldy, and spoiled; and if Ali Khaujeh\nshould return, as I have a strong persuasion he will, and should\nfind they had been opened, what will he think of your honour? I\nbeg of you to let them alone.\"\n\nThe wife had not argued so long with her husband, but that she\nread his obstinacy in his face. In short, he never regarded what\nshe said, but got up, took a candle and a plate, and went into\nthe warehouse. \"Well, husband,\" said the wife again, \"remember I\nhave no hand in this business; and that you cannot lay any thing\nto my charge, if you should have cause to repent of your\nconduit.\"\n\nThe merchant's ears were deaf to these remonstrances of his wife,\nand he persisted in his design. When he came into the warehouse,\nhe opened the jar, and found the olives mouldy; but to see if\nthey were all so to the bottom, he turned some of them upon the\nplate; and by shaking the jar, some of the gold tumbled out.\n\nAt the sight of the gold, the merchant, who was naturally\ncovetous, looked into the jar, perceived that he had shaken out\nalmost all the olives, and what remained was gold coin. He\nimmediately put the olives into the jar again, covered it up, and\nreturned to his wife. \"Indeed, wife,\" said he, \"you were in the\nright to say that the olives were all mouldy; for I found them\nso, and have made up the jar just as Ali Khaujeh left it; so that\nhe will not perceive that they have been touched, if he should\nreturn.\" \"You had better have taken my advice,\" said the wife,\n\"and not have meddled with them. God grant no mischief happens in\nconsequence!\"\n\nThe merchant was not more affected with his wife's last words\nthan he had been by her former, but spent almost the whole night\nin thinking how he might appropriate Ali Khaujeh's gold to his\nown use, and keep possession of it in case he should return and\nask him for the jar. The next morning he went and bought some\nolives of that year, took out the old with the gold, and filled\nthe jar with the new, covered it up, and put it in the place\nwhere Ali Khaujeh had left it.\n\nAbout a month after the merchant had committed this unworthy\naction, Ali Khaujeh arrived at Bagdad; and as he had let his\nhouse, alighted at a khan, choosing to stay there till he had\nannounced his arrival to his tenant, and given him time to\nprovide himself with another residence.\n\nThe next morning Ali Khaujeh went to pay a visit to the merchant\nhis friend, who received him in the most obliging manner; and\nexpressed great joy at his return, after so many years absence;\ntelling him, that he had begun to lose all hopes of ever seeing\nhim again.\n\nAfter the usual compliments on both sides on such a meeting, Ali\nKhaujeh desired the merchant to return him the jar of olives\nwhich he had left. with him, and to excuse the liberty he had\ntaken in giving him so much trouble.\n\n\"My dear friend,\" replied the merchant, \"you are to blame to make\nthese apologies, your vessel has been no inconvenience to me; on\nsuch an occasion I should have made as free with you: there is\nthe key of my warehouse, go and fetch your jar ; you will find it\nin the place where you deft it.\"\n\nAli Khaujeh went into the merchant's warehouse, took his jar; and\nafter having returned him the key with thanks for the favour he\nhad done: him, returned with it to the khan where he lodged; but\non opening the jar, and putting his hand down as low as the\npieces of gold had lain, was greatly surprised to find none. At\nfirst he thought he might perhaps be mistaken; and, to discover\nthe truth, poured out all the olives into his travelling\nkitchen-utensils, but without so much as finding one single piece\nof money. His astonishment was so great, that he stood for some\ntime motionless; then lifting up his hands and eyes to Heaven, he\nexclaimed, \"Is it possible that a man, whom I took for my friend,\nshould be guilty of such baseness?\"\n\nAli Khaujeh, alarmed at the apprehension of so considerable a\nloss, returned immediately to the merchant. \"My good friend,\"\nsaid he, \"be not surprised to see me come back so soon. I own the\njar of olives to be the same I placed in your warehouse; but with\nthe olives I put into it a thousand pieces of gold, which I do\nnot find. Perhaps you might have occasion for them, and have\nemployed them in trade: if so they are at your service till it\nmay be convenient for you to return them; only put me out of my\npain, and give me an acknowledgment, after which you may pay me\nat your own convenience.\"\n\nThe merchant, who had expected that Ali Khaujeh would come with\nsuch a complaint, had meditated an answer. \"Friend Ali Khaujeh,\"\nsaid he, \"when you brought your jar to me did I touch it? did not\nI give you the key of my warehouse, did not you carry it there\nyourself, and did not you find it in the same place, covered in\nthe same manner as when you left it? And if you had put gold in\nit, you must have found it. You told me it contained olives, and\nI believed you. This is all I know of the matter: you may\ndisbelieve me if you please; but I never touched them.\"\n\nAli Khaujeh used all the mild methods he could think of to oblige\nthe merchant to restore his property. \"I love peace and\nquietness,\" said he to him, \"and shall be sorry to come to those\nextremities which will bring the greatest disgrace upon you;\nconsider, that merchants, as we are, ought to abandon all\ninterest to preserve a good reputation. Once again I tell you, I\nshall be greatly concerned if your obstinacy oblige me to force\nyou to do me justice; for I would rather almost lose what is my\nright than have recourse to law.\"\n\n\"Ali Khaujeh,\" replied the merchant, \"you agree that you left a\njar of olives with me; and now you have taken it away, you come\nand ask me for a thousand pieces of gold. Did you ever tell me\nthat such a sum was in the jar? I did not even know that they\nwere olives, for you never showed them to me. I wonder you do not\nask me for diamonds and pearls instead of gold; be gone about\nyour business, and do not raise a mob about my warehouse;\" for\nsome persons had already collected. These words were pronounced\nin such great heat and passion, as not only made those who stood\nabout the warehouse already stay longer, and create a greater\nmob, but the neighbouring merchants came out of their shops to\nlearn what the dispute was between Ali Khaujeh and the merchant,\nand endeavoured to reconcile them; but when Ali Khaujeh had\ninformed them of his grievance, they asked the merchant what he\nhad to say.\n\nThe merchant owned that he had kept the jar for Ali Khaujeh in\nhis warehouse, but denied that ever he had meddled with it; swore\nthat he knew it contained olives, only because Ali Khaujeh told\nhim so, and requested them all to bear witness of the insult and\naffront offered him. \"You bring it upon yourself,\" said Ali\nKhaujeh taking him by the arm; \"but since you use me so basely, I\ncite you to the law of God: let us see whether you will have the\nassurance to say the same thing before the cauzee.\"\n\nThe merchant could not refuse the summons, which every Mussulmaun\nis bound to observe, or be declared a rebel against religion; but\nsaid, \"With all my heart; we shall soon see who is in the wrong.\"\n\nAli Khaujeh carried the merchant before the magistrate, where he\naccused him of having, by breach of trust, defrauded him of a\nthousand pieces of gold, which he had left with him. The cauzee\ndemanded if he had any witnesses; to which he replied, that he\nhad not taken that precaution, because he had believed the person\nhe trusted his money with to be his friend, and always took him\nfor an honest man.\n\nThe merchant made the same defence he had done before the\nmerchants his neighbours, offering to make oath that he never had\nthe money he was accused of, and that he did not so much as know\nthere was such a sum; upon which the cauzee took his oath, and\ndismissed him acquitted for want of evidence.\n\nAli Khaujeh, extremely mortified to find that he must sit down\nwith so considerable a loss, protested against the sentence,\ndeclaring to the cauzee that he would appeal to the caliph, who\nwould do him justice; which protestation the magistrate regarded\nas the effect of the common resentment of those who lose their\ncause; and thought he had done his duty in acquitting a person\nwho had been accused without witnesses.\n\nWhile the merchant returned home triumphing over Ali Khaujeh and\noverjoyed at his good fortune, the latter went and drew up a\npetition; and the next day observing the time when the caliph\ncame from noon tide prayers, placed himself in the street he was\nto pass through; and holding out his hand with the petition, an\nofficer appointed for that purpose, who always goes before the\ncaliph, came and took it to present it.\n\nAs Ali Khaujeh knew that it was the caliph's custom to read the\npetitions at his return to the palace, he went into the court,\nand waited till the officer who had taken the petition came out\nof the caliph's apartment, who told him that the caliph had\nappointed an hour to hear him next day; and then asking him where\nthe merchant lived, he sent to notify to him to attend at the\nsame time.\n\nThat same evening, the caliph, accompanied by the grand vizier\nJaaffier, and Mesrour the chief of the eunuchs, went disguised\nthrough the town, as it was his custom occasionally to do; when,\non passing through a street, the caliph heard a noise, and\nmending his pace, came to a gateway, which led into a little\ncourt, in which he perceived ten or twelve children playing by\nmoonlight.\n\nThe caliph, who was curious to know at what play the children\nwere engaged, sat down on a stone bench just by; and heard one of\nthe liveliest of the children say, \"Let us play at the cauzee I\nwill be the magistrate; bring Ali Khaujeh and the merchant who\ncheated him of the thousand pieces of gold before me.\"\n\nThese words of the child put the caliph in mind of the petition\nAli Khaujeh had given him that day, and made him redouble his\nattention to see the issue of the trial.\n\nAs the affair of Ali Khaujeh and the merchant had made a great\nnoise in Bagdad, it had not escaped the children, who all\naccepted the proposition with joy, and agreed on the part each\nwas to act: not one of them refused him who made the proposal to\nbe cauzee: and when he had taken his seat, which he did with all\nthe seeming gravity of a judge, another, as an officer of the\ncourt, presented two boys before him; one as Ali Khaujeh, and the\nother as the merchant against whom he complained.\n\nThe pretended cauzee then directing his discourse to the feigned\nAli Khaujeh, asked him what he had to lay to that merchant's\ncharge?\n\nAli Khaujeh after a low obeisance, informed the young cauzee of\nthe fact, related every particular, and afterwards begged that he\nwould use his authority, that he might not lose so considerable a\nsum of money.\n\nThe feigned cauzee, turning about to the merchant, then asked him\nwhy he did not return the money which Ali Khaujeh demanded of\nhim?\n\nThe feigned merchant alleged the same reasons as the real\nmerchant had done before the cauzee himself, and offered to\nconfirm by oath that what he had said was truth.\n\n\"Not so fast,\" replied the pretended cauzee; \"before you come to\nyour oath, I should be glad to see the jar of olives. Ali\nKhaujeh,\" said he, addressing himself to the boy who acted that\npart, \"have you brought the jar?\" \"No,\" replied he. \"Then go and\nfetch it immediately,\" said the other.\n\nThe pretended Ali Khaujeh went immediately, and returning,\nfeigned to set a jar before the cauzee, telling him that it was\nthe same he had left with the accused person, and received from\nhim again. But to omit no part of the formality, the supposed\ncauzee asked the merchant if it was the same; and as by his\nsilence he seemed not to deny it, he ordered it to be opened. He\nthat represented Ali Khaujeh seemed to take off the cover, and\nthe pretended cauzee made as if he looked into it. \"They are fine\nolives,\" said he, \"let me taste them;\" and then pretending to eat\nsome, added, \"They are excellent: but,\" continued he, \"I cannot\nthink that olives will keep seven years, and be so good,\ntherefore send for some olive-merchants, and let me hear what is\ntheir opinion.\" Two boys, as olive-merchants, then presented\nthemselves. \"Are you olive-merchants?\" said the sham cauzee.\n\"Tell me how long olives will keep fit to eat.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the two merchants, \"let us take what care we can,\nthey will hardly be worth any thing the third year; for then they\nhave neither taste nor colour.\" \"If it be so,\" answered the\ncauzee, \"look into that jar, and tell me how long it is since\nthose olives were put into it?\"\n\nThe two merchants pretended to examine and to taste the olives,\nand told the cauzee they were new and good. \"You are mistaken,\"\nsaid the young cauzee; \"Ali Khaujeh says he put them into the jar\nseven years ago.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the merchants, \"we can assure you they are of this\nyear's growth: and we will maintain there is not a merchant in\nBagdad but will say the same.\"\n\nThe feigned merchant who was accused would have objected against\nthe evidence of the olive-merchants; but the pretended cauzee\nwould not suffer him. \"Hold your tongue,\" said he, \"you are a\nrogue; let him be impaled.\" The children then concluded their\nplay, clapping their hands with great joy, and seizing the\nfeigned criminal to carry him to execution.\n\nWords cannot express how much the caliph Haroon al Rusheed\nadmired the sagacity and sense of the boy who had passed so just\na sentence, in an affair which was to be pleaded before himself\nthe next day. He withdrew, and rising off the bench, asked the\ngrand vizier, who heard all that had passed, what he thought of\nit. \"Indeed, commander of the true believers,\" answered the grand\nvizier Jaaffier, \"I am surprised to find so much sagacity in one\nso young.\"\n\n\"But,\" answered the caliph, \"do you know one thing? I am to\npronounce sentence in this very cause to-morrow; the true Ali\nKhaujeh presented his petition to me to-day; and do you think,\"\ncontinued he, \"that I can give a better sentence?\" \"I think not,\"\nanswered the vizier, \" if the case is as the children represented\nit.\" \"Take notice then of this house,\" said the caliph, \"and\nbring the boy to me to-morrow, that he may try this cause in my\npresence; and also order the cauzee, who acquitted the merchant,\nto attend to learn his duty from a child. Take care likewise to\nbid Ali Khaujeh bring his jar of olives with him, and let two\nolive-merchants attend.\" After this charge he pursued his rounds,\nwithout meeting with any thing worth his attention.\n\nThe next day the vizier went to the house where the caliph had\nbeen a witness of the children's play, and asked for the master;\nbut he being abroad, his wife appeared thickly veiled. He asked\nher if she had any children. To which she answered, she had\nthree; and called them. \"My brave boys,\" said the vizier, \"which\nof you was the cauzee when you played together last night?\" The\neldest made answer, it was he: but, not knowing why he asked the\nquestion, coloured. \"Come along with me, my lad,\" said the grand\nvizier; \"the commander of the faithful wants to see you.\"\n\nThe mother was alarmed when she saw the grand vizier would take\nher son with him, and asked, upon what account the caliph wanted\nhim? The grand vizier encouraged her, and promised that he should\nreturn again in less than an hour's time, when she would know it\nfrom himself. \"If it be so, sir,\" said the mother, \"give me leave\nto dress him first, that he may be fit to appear before the\ncommander of the faithful:\" which the vizier readily complied\nwith.\n\nAs soon as the child was dressed, the vizier carried him away and\npresented him to the caliph, at the time he had appointed to hear\nAli Khaujeh and the merchant.\n\nThe caliph, who saw that the boy was much abashed, in order to\nencourage him, said, \"Come to me, child, and tell me if it was\nyou that determined the affair between Ali Khaujeh and the\nmerchant who had cheated him of his money? I saw and heard the\ndecision, and am very well pleased with you.\" The boy answered\nmodestly, that it was he. \"Well, my son,\" replied the caliph,\n\"come and sit down by me, and you shall see the true Ali Khaujeh,\nand the true merchant.\"\n\nThe caliph then took him by the hand, seated him on the throne by\nhim, and asked for the two parties. When they were introduced,\nthey prostrated themselves before the throne, bowing their heads\nquite down to the carpet that covered it. Afterwards the caliph\nsaid to them, \"Plead each of you your causes before this child,\nwho will hear and do you justice: and if he should be at a loss I\nwill assist him.\"\n\nAli Khaujeh and the merchant pleaded one after the other; but\nwhen the merchant proposed his oath as before, the child said,\n\"It is too soon; it is proper that we should see the jar of\nolives.\"\n\nAt these words Ali Khaujeh presented the jar, placed it at the\ncaliph's feet, and opened it. The caliph looked at the olives,\ntook one and tasted it, giving another to the boy. Afterwards the\nmerchants were called, who examined the olives, and reported that\nthey were good, and of that year. The boy told them, that Ali\nKhaujeh affirmed that it was seven years since he had put them\nup; when they returned the same answer as the children, who had\nrepresented them the night before.\n\nThough the wretch who was accused saw plainly that these\nmerchants' opinion must convict him, yet he would say something\nin his own justification. But the child, instead of ordering him\nto be impaled, looked at the caliph, and said \"Commander of the\nfaithful, this is no jesting matter; it is your majesty that must\ncondemn him to death, and not I, though I did it yesterday in\nplay.\"\n\nThe caliph, fully satisfied of the merchant's villany, delivered\nhim into the hands of the ministers of justice to be impaled. The\nsentence was executed upon him, after he had confessed where he\nhad concealed the thousand pieces of gold, which were restored to\nAli Khaujeh. The monarch, most just and equitable, then turning\nto the cauzee, bade him learn of that child to acquit himself\nmore exactly of his duty; and embracing the boy, sent him home\nwith a purse of a hundred pieces of gold as a token of his\nliberality and admiration of his acuteness.\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Volume 3.","title":"The Arabian Nights Entertainments \u2014 Volume 03","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":149534}